#perhaps my read list will grow slightly shorter

[heatwa-ves]

thought this book would take me longer to read but I'm already nearly halfway through and I only started to read it this morning

[luvyanfei]

with a short & insecure s/o (hcs)

ft. xiao, kaeya, zhongli, & xingqiu requested by anon

this,,, this is me

xiao. 

he’s appalled when he finds out people actually tease you for your height. xiao has always known how terrible humans can be, but to think they would attempt to tear someone down, specifically his lover, just because they’re considered small irate him to no end. you might want to hold on to him tightly before he can storm off and declare war on the bullies who dared to torment you in any way. 

he honestly doesn’t care if you’re short or tall, ugly or pretty - your appearance isn’t what’s important here. he fell in love with you for what’s inside of you, don’t forget that, okay? xiao may not outright say all that because he’s embarrassed of showing his soft side to you, but if your insecurity gets the better of you, he’ll at least lend an ear to you as you rant to him while stargazing together. 

however, what xiao despises more than others treating you poorly is you belittling yourself. he has zero tolerance for that kind of attitude and will react quite aggressively, gripping you by the shoulders and shaking you. he can’t help himself. it hurts him deeply, dare he say more than a stab to his heart, seeing you wallowing in self-hatred. he’s harsh, but he means well. xiao would much rather see a content smile on your face than having you look disconsolate. 

“have you finally stopped your wailing yet?” xiao peers at your face drenched in tears in disinterest, but really, he’s pretty concerned on the inside. your sobs have been reduced to quiet sniffles, but your body won’t stop trembling. he looks away for a minute, sighs heavily, and pulls you into his arms, a blush coating his cheeks. 

he stays silent the whole time, too nervous to do anything really, as your palms press against his chest lightly and will yourself to calm down. xiao clears his throat and brings a finger down to brush away the glistening tears from your eyes. 

“look, just because you’re short, it doesn’t mean i don’t like you any less,” he whispers only for you to hear, and presses his lips to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds. “even if you, or anybody else, don’t think you’re worthy enough, i at lease still care about you, so don’t let others’ opinions get to you.”

kaeya.

not to be blunt or anything, but kaeya being, well kaeya, he’s probably going to relentlessly tease you. he doesn’t do it because he harbors any ill-intent towards you. it’s just, kaeya is very fond of your flustered expression. if you happen to end up crying from his words, he’ll immediately stop and apologize guiltily. the last thing he needs is for you to abandon him too because of a fault on his end. 

kaeya really does love you a lot, despite your flaws and silently admires you for your empathy and altruism. one good thing about being shorter than your boyfriend is that you can wear his clothing on and he’ll be a gushing mess in no time. he’ll purposefully place his jacket somewhere for you to find in hopes you’ll put it on. he may be doing this just for the purpose of having fun, but he likes knowing that it means you're comfortable and accepting in your relationship with him. 

he likes patting you on the head when you pass by each other at random times, his lips curling in a knowing smirk. if you ever need help obtaining items that are out of your reach, kaeya will conveniently be there to lend a hand. it fuels his confidence how you always go to him for help instead of seeking support from someone who might be more reliable. it goes to show that your trust in him is deep. 

“having difficulties, [name]?” kaeya hollers to gain your attention as you look down from the ladder to glance at the knight, your hand outreached to grab at the material you need with failed attempts. “allow me to be of service~” 

he gestures for you to climb down and gets up the ladder himself, easily grasping the object in his fingers. once his feet has touched the ground, he lowers his hand to give it to you, but before your fingertips can make contact with it, he pulls it away from you. "ah ah ah~ shouldn’t i get some kind of a compensation for helping my dearest?” you stare at him in confusion before an idea plants itself in your head. ah. so that’s what he wants. with a roll of your eyes, you stride up the ladder till your eyes meet and kisses him on the lips. 

as you push your body away from him, he gives a closed-eye grin and nods in satisfaction. “that wasn’t too bad, now was it?” kaeya finally hands you the item, but he grips your free hand in his and guides it to press against his warm cheek. “you should realize by now what you’re capable of doing, stealing my heart like this. you’re so cruel [name], but perhaps that’s why i’ve grown to love you.” 

zhongli.

zhongli is an honest and good-natured man. he’ll immediately tell you that he doesn’t think to care about your height, so there’s no reason for you to worry about it either. he’s not an idiot though. he’s aware that your self-deprecating thoughts won’t disappear so easily with his consoling words alone. actions speak louder than words, after all. 

if anyone ends up insulting you for your size, zhongli won’t hesitate to politely stand up for you. although, if they stubbornly persist in demeaning you, it’ll push him to the brink of indignation, but he’ll still attempt to keep up a courteous manner for your sake as he calmly tells them to back off. like kaeya, he loves it when you wear his clothing! he’s lived for a long time to see many things, but witnessing you cuddling him while his jacket is draped snugly over your body has got to be the cutest thing he’s seen yet. 

ever the supportive individual, zhongli will help you come out of your shell and build up on your self-esteem. he’s there with you every step of the day, so if you ever slip and feel like you’re about to fall into an abyss of despair, he’ll take your out-stretched hands in his and guide you back into the light. 

“[name], is something the matter? you look as if you’re bothered by something.” zhongli questions innocently, studying your face carefully. your eyes droop slightly, but you reassure him that you were pondering how it would feel like if you were as tall as him. he nods in understanding and brings a hand up to his chin in thought. 

before you know it, he’s turned his back towards you and kneeled down. perplexed, you stare at him, unsure of what he’s doing. “you said you desired to know what it’s like to be around my height, so this is the only thing i can think of.” hesitantly, you place your hands on his shoulder blades to balance yourself and he makes sure to hold onto you tightly as he stands up slowly. you smile in appreciation at zhongli’s consideration over your feelings and presses your body closer to his. 

he beams back at you, sealing a kiss to your lips. “if you ever feel down, remember that there’s at least one person in the world that loves you - one of them being me, of course.” 

xingqiu.

he also reacts similar to kaeya, although his teasing is slightly toned down and less vocal. like, if you wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, he might lean away from you and probably use a stool to make himself taller, but he’ll stop after a bit of fun and laughter. it’s not funny unless both of you are smiling, right?

he finds your short stature to be one of your charm points and will compliment you for that, calling you adorable and such. it’s kind of perfect for him because he likes being the big spoon, embracing you from behind and nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. if you’re around the same age as him, it’s alright! there’s still time for you to grow. he’s sure the both of you will be tall soon. there’s no judgement when you’re with him, so don’t be afraid of being yourself around xingqiu, alright? 

if he finds out your confidence is still lacking, he’ll scribble down a list of all the things he loves about you for you to read to lift your spirits up! although, that might prove to be a challenge considering his handwriting is infamously known for being illegible. 

“hmm... isn’t that the picture we took at liyue harbor together?” xingqiu observes the photo in your hand, reminiscing the fond memories. his honey irises flicker to you. “hey, what’s with the frown?” 

you shake your head and tries to change the subject, but he presses on to persuade you into explaining. when you finally do, he bursts into a fit of laughter, wiping away the tears pricking the edge of his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior, but [name], you shouldn’t have to concern yourself with such a trivial matter.” he tucks away a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his index finger ghosting over your lips. 

“have i ever told you that you’re cute?” xingqiu murmurs, a sense of genuine compassion laced in his tone. “don’t stare at me like that, please. i’m quite serious, so there’s no need to compare yourself with me. no matter the height difference, i’ll always love you - if you’ll allow me too. 

tagging. @liliisacutieowo, @scarymoosh

[har-rison-s]

pray, do tell

request: If you don’t mind me asking, request for Loki asking the other Loki’s if they have a s/o in their timeline during episode 5?

a/n: hi ! i absolutely ADORE this idea and i hope i'll write it out respectfully :)) i loved episode 5 so much, except for SOME scenes, and i especially enjoyed multiple lokis sitting around and talking, chilling, that's like... my dream place to be. YOU DON'T KNOW THE EFFECT PRESIDENT LOKI HAS ON ME. like it should be studied in labs and schools cos ??????? that feeling when he's on screen was just something else. also ! kid loki holding alligator loki my beloved <3. i'd love to be surrounded by lokis, me and loki actually have the same personality type so they're like... my people. sorry for the rant, hahah ! this one is a bit shorter than my other loki works, sorry about that :/ also it took me like 40 minutes to find decent gifs lmao. happy reading !! <3

masterlist

mcu masterlist

warnings: nothing really

disclaimer: lokis mentioned have he/him pronouns !

Weirded out by what he's seeing, and not entirely sure it's real, Loki can't take his eyes off it, either. The way alligator Loki drinks his boxed wine is just so fascinating to him, yet weird and other-wordly (he knows those well) at the same time. And he's weirded out more by the fact that he doesn't find a variant of him being an alligator strange in any way. He's had a few trying days, as he said himself.

Loki manages to divert his eyes off the creature with horns on its head and looks to the grapes he holds in his hand. He picks small dirt away from the berries and takes a grape into his mouth with ease. The taste reminds him of many things. His childhood, his home, his family... Thor, Frigga, Odin, Sif and the Warriors Three. Asgard. The Gardens, the waters, the Bifrost. Heimdall. Visits to the city, the markets, the celebrations.

Love.

Loki blinks, fooling himself and others by aiming to portray that he's not thinking about anything important. But he is. She was the most important thing to him, and now... Well, maybe during the New York heist, she's still fine, but after Ragnarok... Loki fears too much to think about it.

He wishes he could remember everything with her that followed New York, but all he has of their future is some worn-out tape in the TVA archives. Perhaps even pictures... He wants to live through all they had now, he wishes he could do that most of all. Of course, there's the finding Mobius and helping Sylvie burn down the TVA thing, but upon remembering her, it all falls into the background.

His first love. Not a god, like him, but she was a goddess in his eyes. He smiles now, subtly, at the fond memories of her. He noticed the little moments he had with her in the tape Mobius had, about his whole future. How beautiful she always was, her subtle way of laughing and going about her smiles and giggles, how exceptional and different her clothes always were, how her hair shined in any light...

“Did any of you...” Loki starts to say, and sighs shortly before continuing, thinking he'll probably regret asking it, “did any of you leave a... a lover behind when the TVA arrested you? Prince or princess?” He looks between his variants. Young Loki shoots him a stern look. “Apologies, my liege. You seem too young for that.” Loki bids him a polite smile, but his brain whirs. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Don't know. Time doesn't really... exist here.” Young Loki says and throws a salt biscuit into alligator Loki's jaws. “But no lovers in my lifetime, Loki.” He pointedly looks at the older variant of himself, nodding slightly.

“Not yet, at least.” Loki points out and gets scoffs and chuckles from Boastful and Classic Loki. He looks at them with a furrowed brow.

“Oh, you and your grand plan,” Classic Loki shakes his head before taking another sip from his huge cup. Loki only rolls his eyes, but still waits for answers to his question, “well,” Classic Loki downs his drink, “it would be no surprise to you that I had countless partners before I chose isolation. Partners of any kind.” He winks. Loki nods, understanding how much alike he truly is with his variants. “But I feel there is no one truly... truly made for me. Like midgardians would say - 'the one'.“

“In my case, there were many 'the ones',” Boastful Loki says, mocking Classic's use of words. All other Lokis roll their eyes, “I actually feel like every person in the whole universe was made to be with me. I'm just that irresistible.” He smiles pleasantly to himself. Alligator Loki growls again.

“That's another “liar” from him to you, Boast,” Classic Loki nods his head towards Boastful, who only shakes his head and frowns.

“I had my fair share of men and women before I was taken,” Boastful says, “must have been the same for you, Loki.” He looks at him. “Asgard was truly a giving place.”

Loki chuckles, but looks away from his variants. “Oh, it was...” he says quietly, “it was.” His voice grows even more quiet. Young and Classic Loki exchange a look.

“Do tell us, your mischievousness.” Classic Loki urges him. Loki shoots him a nervous look, then he leans back into the sofa and sighs, his eyes strictly focused on his hands.

“I had plenty before I met... one,” he starts to say, “me and her share a past, and, it seems, a future as well. After New York, I am taken to Asgard, imprisoned, but she is there. I fake my death and rule over Asgard as Odin, and she's there. I help Thor destroy our evil sister--”

“Oh, she was a nasty one.” Boastful says, shaking his head. “We used to have a connection, but then she just... I don't even know.” He shrugs. Loki eyes him for a second before continuing.

“We destroyed Asgard, but saved its people, and saved her. We make for Midgard, and she's there with me.” Loki sighs, his eyes gloomy. “And then... Thanos attacks, destroys half, if not all our people, and...” he can't even speak further. His variants share a look, each having quite the correct guess for what could follow after that. Boastful drinks from his cup in an awkward manner. “But I feel like that's another life I lived. Or another me. I don't know, I feel so... disconnected from her, from what we had. Must be the TVA and this... void. And all that's happened, all I've learned about my future.” He sighs again.

“Meeting her again would be a wake-up call, no?” Boastful asks. Loki shrugs, a sad expression on his face.

“Rather a sign that you're real.” Classic Loki says with a wide, true smile. Loki looks to him as if looking at a mentor. “I often felt like the people I loved and the love I had for them, even if it was not reciprocated, were a reminder that I am real, I exist and I can feel all these things.”

Loki considers his words, and then nods along, finding a truth in them.

“After all, love and all other emotions are the human part in all of us.” Classic says. “And it isn't always bad to feel like a regular human being.” Loki can also find truth in those words. Love makes one feel alive, makes you feel like you're on the right path, found the right person, found your purpose. It doesn't always have to be glorious, it can be small, but nonetheless important to you.

“I used to think humans smaller than us, more pathetic and puny, but...” Loki shakes his head, “we, gods, are just the same, really.” He chuckles sadly. “Having quarrels over the stupidest things, being as imperfect as humans... Sometimes I even felt like I was too good, too perfect for something like true love, which is a pathetic emotion that makes you feel all kinds of other feelings, but...” he smiles, “often times I felt like that, she told me everyone was deserving of love, even me.” His smile grows wider.

“She sounds lovely.” Classic Loki tells him with a kind smile.

“She was that, and more.” Loki nods along. Young Loki imitates the sound of a snore and throws a crumpled piece of paper at Loki's shoulder.

“You're making me extremely bored.” He announces and sits straighter in his chair, looking over the mess that is his palace. “Love's boring.” Young Loki throws a juice carton across the room, making a face.

“You are just too young to understand and know it, your majesty.” Boastful says with a wink, and the next juice carton is flying over his head with a snicker from Young Loki. Classic Loki keeps Boastful tight in his seat so an argument wouldn't arise, and Boastful hesitantly restrains, his drink almost spilling over his cup. Loki watches them with a sappy smile on his features, and decides this is a good place to spend eternity at, even without her.

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let me know if you want to be added ! or maybe to a loki list !

[shoichee]

Hey luv! I just got my braces off and I don’t know if I like myself with or without them cause yah girl has ✨confidence issues✨ so can you do the GoM + Kagami and Teppei thanks my savior

OH, rn i have braces too (although they’re ceramic and harder to see) but I definitely can understand the apprehension when you have them taken off after for so long;; 

the amount of characters requested actually exceed the rules, but since i’ve taken a while to get to your request, i’ll still do them but they will be shorter^^ THANK YOU FOR STICKING BY THIS BLOG AND READING MY STUFF <3

[Headcanons]

Kuroko Tetsuya

right away, he notices that something was amiss with you, and asks upfront if anything was bothering you

you replied hesitantly, but while you talked you held up a hand in front of your mouth:

���Um… I don’t know if I like how I look right now…”

Kuroko stares at your nervous eyes and then looks down to your hand in front of your mouth before asking why

“Just got my braces off, and I feel a bit… weird without them? I feel like I look strange without them…”

“Do you mind if I see you?” he asks, softening his eyes at you

“W-Well… you’re not someone to judge, I know, but don’t… laugh or anything.”

“I won’t, (y/n)-san.”

he slowly brings your hand down and you slowly smile to reveal your teeth to him, and he gives you the purest smile… and that catches you off guard so badly like… YOUR TEETH GOT HIM TO SMILE LIKE THAT??? DAMN, MAYBE YOU SHOULD SMILE EVERY SECOND TO SEE SUCH A TREASURE—

“(y/n)-san, I think you look wonderful,” he muses, bringing your same hand that was in front of your mouth into his own hand with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure everyone who sees you will think the same.”

ah Kuroko, the individual who has a knack in comforting people with his genuity (example: see Momoi)

whenever you do have those moments of self-consciousness again, he’s always there to calmly reassure you otherwise

Kise Ryouta

IMMEDIATELY sees your teeth when you talk, and freaks out like a little kid on Christmas

“(y/n)-cchi! (y/n)-cchi!!” he hoots around, pointing at his own teeth. “You got your braces off today! You look amazing!”

when you hesitate and tell him that you’re not so sure about yourself without your braces, he pinches your cheek and gives a little dramatic huff

“But (y/n)-cchi…! Come onnnn, trust me!” he says, giving a signature pout, and you laugh at his antics

“Ohhh, do that again! Do that again!” (he craves for your laughs, and he wants more)

he definitely tries to get you to smile and laugh to get you more comfortable with your braceless teeth

whether you have braces or not, he doesn’t mind so much because what he really cares about is your smile, and if he sees your teeth showing, braces or without, it means that he knows he’s doing a good job in making you comfortable and happy

while he showers you in praises every single moment, when you feel really down, he takes an extra measure or two to cuddle you gently while being much softer in delivering those compliments

always gives a daily compliment to give you a serotonin boost

Midorima Shintarou

he’s confused… why would you be upset that you got your braces off? you looked great before and even now, so does the fact of braces really change your perception of your appearance that much?

he won’t make any comment on your new appearance unless you bring it up to him and ask for his opinion/reassurance

he’s just happy for you that you have another milestone of your life, and not to mention, braces generally promote better oral health and fix misaligned bites

“Hm? What do I think of how you look? D-Don’t be ridiculous… What am I supposed to say?”

“Well, I just… think I look a little odd… I kind of… want my braces back.”

“You know you can’t do that, nanodayo,” he sighs. “So much money, effort, and care were invested into your teeth for many years. You did the most you could to take care of them and achieved the goal you set out for yourself when you first got braces, correct? That isn’t something to be ashamed of, nanodayo.”

despite his lecturing, his words do have some merit, and Midorima’s words were comforting in his own way

“But Midorima, um… sorry for annoying you,” you say, giving a chagrined smile

Midorima takes a good look at your exposed teeth for the first time and widens his eyes in a fluster before turning his eyes back to his astrology book

“I-I-It’s nothing.”

bonus: he’s definitely that one fussy parent who forces you to wear your retainers religiously, NO EXCUSES—he doesn’t want the whole process to be all for naught just because you got lazy in wearing a simple metal thing

Aomine Daiki

idiot #1

“Whoa, your teeth look different,” is something he would say tactlessly

immediately, you slapped your hands over your mouth at his words

forgive him, he usually says what’s on his mind with no filter and consideration

by then, he’d realized that the tone of his words was poorly delivered and would try to correct himself before he says anything more to dig himself a deeper grave

“Er, sorry, what I mean is… I didn’t know you were gonna have them off today…”

that actually made you more self-conscious and you try to flee from the scene

“W-Wait, hey!”

insert Aomine clumsily explaining that he didn’t mean to be tactless with his words and that he just meant that he was surprised in a good way

definitely shows you a lot more wholesome affection in addition to his usual PDA, but you wonder what he thought about your new “appearance,” so to speak

“What kinda question is that?” he scoffs. “You’re still hot and always will be.”

if there’s one sure benefit to his blunt words, it’s that his straightforwardness can easily dispel all your doubts and clear up any misunderstandings in one go

if you’re still doubtful about yourself, he’ll gladly resort to action to prove his point… perhaps makeout sessions with him would become a lot more exploratory and… just putting it out there, but we will leave this up to your imagination

anywho, he’s not afraid to give you more direct kisses to try to show you that he doesn’t care about your teeth and your lack of braces

definitely would tell out-of-pocket jokes and laugh more to get you to grow comfortable; after all, smiling is contagious right? who can resist Aomine’s smile???

if someone tried to make you uncomfortable by drawing everyone’s attention nearby in how you got your braces off, whether intentional or not, he’s scaring them away, no questions asked and he’s taking you away from the scene

Murasakibara Atsushi

“Oh…” he says with his usual drawl. “You got them off, Chibi-chin?”

it was a usual day with him tucking his own head into his arms to nap on the table when you walked up to him apprehensively, and he immediately notices your presence but lazily picks up his head to look at you when he noticed

“Er… yeah…”

he slightly tilts his head to the side like an inquisitive child to silently question what was wrong

“It’s nothing really! Just feeling tired… not in the talkative mood today.” as you said this, he noticed that you were more… tight-lipped, speaking in a quieter manner as if you were trying not to show your teeth as much as possible

he beckons a languid hand over and you reluctantly sit by his side, your face still slightly turned away

you thought he was just going to go back to sleep like he always does, but imagine your surprise when he easily picks you up from the side and placed you on his lap, face-to-face

Murasakibara then pulls your cheeks apart, revealing your pearly whites to him

“H-H-Hey!! Lert… gorw!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m… serwious!”

he stares at you impassively for a few moments before he suddenly lets your cheeks go and yawns

“... you look fine, Chibi-chin,” he mumbles, and he sets you off his lap before getting up with a stretch. “Besides, now that you don’t have braces anymore, you can finally eat whatever you want right…?”

“I… guess I can…”

and he’s already reaching for your hand to tug you to the nearest takeout with a slight shine of excitement in his dark pupils

“Chibi-chin, we can finally eat those candy apples together you’ve always craved for, lots and lots…”

he’s very fixated on you eating with your braceless teeth for the next few weeks with a small smile on his face, because you enjoying the food you eat are some of the simplest joys he loves when he’s with you (and you hadn’t been able to do that because your braces forbidden you from eating a list of things)

definitely drags you out for food outings a lot more for the next few weeks

he tries his best in trying to make you not think about your teeth and your self-consciousness about them in his roundabout way (note: see his cheek pulling, distracting you with your favorite snacks, etc.)

he’s not someone to make any deal out of it because worrying over such a trivial thing is annoying to him, but nonetheless he certainly wants to make sure that nothing is bothering you because that’s the greatest inconvenience (since he doesn’t like to see you in such a state)… you being upset and worried makes him upset and worried, after all

Akashi Seijuro

he immediately understands that feeling of self-doubt/self-consciousness, but nonetheless he compliments you to let you know that he truly finds you desirable/beautiful inside and out

still, words alone sometimes don’t convince you and even when he gives physical affection to comfort you, there’s still that nagging feeling of how you felt about your teeth

and he’s totally okay with that, and he knows that feeling very well himself (regarding having inner voices that taunt him)

rather than constantly hammering in compliments because he knows that at some point they’d feel more disingenuous the more he says them, he offers you to help overcome the self-consciousness on your own terms

Akashi offers the suggestion of wearing face masks (not necessarily the surgical ones, but the cute/plain colored masks you’d see around!) if you have certain days where you feel low about your braceless teeth

he’d be quite sly and teasing all the while; whenever you wear your cute mask for the day, he’d be a lot more affectionate with the PDA and give pecks on your lips… but the mask is always in the way, preventing you from feeling actual contact with his own lips

he can tell you’d definitely get pouty when you don’t really feel those kisses and he simply laughs and walks on

“You…! I know you only try to kiss me when I have the mask on! Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Hm? Is it really a crime for me to show physical affection to the person I love?”

he eventually does help you coax you out and become comfortable, and your face masks would eventually be stored away in a drawer

he rewards you for being strong in overcoming your own doubts:

“To celebrate your strength in overcoming a huge milestone, what would you like your reward to be?”

“For starters, give me back all those kisses you tried to give me throughout all the times I wore a mask!”

“Of course,” he chuckles, moving closer to your lips. “How could I ever resist you when you’re this stunning?”

Kagami Taiga

idiot #2 (see idiot #1)

unlike idiot #1, idiot #2 doesn’t notice the change on your teeth, at all

he doesn’t know why you’re fidgeting around or acting really, really strange… were you hungry? upset at him for something he didn’t realize he did wrong?

so after a few days after you got your braces off, he finally asks:

“Is there something wrong? Did I do something to upset you?”

poor guy doesn’t know if he was at fault or if he was missing something, and he physically holds his head to try to recall EVERYTHING for the past week

you reassure him that it wasn’t anything like that, but you still had furrowed brows and you were very careful in how you were talking

Kagami thinks you haven’t eaten and offers to make dinner, but eating in front of him for some reason really didn’t sound like a good idea to you so you declined

you’ll eventually tell him that you just felt a bit self-conscious after your braces got taken off

“Huh?”

he stares at your teeth for a very long time, and you immediately regret it, not wanting to draw his attention to you like that

he snaps out of his intense daze and immediately apologizes for making you uncomfortable

“M-My bad… I just didn’t notice until you told me.”

“Really?” you ask, slightly relieved that the change wasn’t as drastic as you thought it would be

“Er, yeah…” he mumbles, scratching his cheek, “you look good, by the way…” but by the time he finished his compliment, it came out as a cough

you can only laugh in relief, knowing that everything he says is always earnest and sincere

Kiyoshi Teppei

definitely noticed that your braces were off, but pretends to not notice until you bring it up yourself because he’s quite sharp and in tune with other people’s emotions

so he treats you like he always does, being the sweet “airhead” that he is, and he waits until you bring it up yourself (because he knows how self-conscious you were about your lack of braces)

you yourself are confused… like… was Teppei actually dense? was your whole inner dilemma not a big deal like your mind thought it would be?

you tug on his sleeve one day and ask him if he noticed your teeth, pointing to them all the while

and he immediately chastises himself (“silly me”) for not noticing, and he tells you that you were beautiful either way, and whether you had braces or not didn’t change that inherent fact (and that was his “reason” for not noticing to reassure you)

all while giving his easy going chuckles and ruffling your hair

laughs at your shyness at his words, not because it’s funny or anything but he truly finds you adorable

once you get comfortable without giving a second thought about your braces gone, he just drops the truth bomb on you so casually like:

“Ahhhh (y/n)-san,” he sighs in nostalgia. “You were really cute when you were so shy about getting them off, you know that?”

“Now wait a second…”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

“That you’re really cute.”

“No, no, the other part.”

“Whenever you get shy.”

“That is not what I mean and you know that—”

“Aww, you’re being really cute right now, (y/n)-san. Don’t tempt me to carry you around when I just finished with my physical therapy.”

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 4 - As The Snow Fell

[Thank you so much to everyone that has read, liked and re-blogged the chapters and master list of my fanfic so far, I really appreciate all the support!]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: You’ve barely even set foot into the village and have already had a taste of the unusual residents and otherworldly beings. Is there anyone that you can trust?

Trigger Warnings: Threat, theft.

Soundscape Ambience Suggestions:

Medieval Ruins Ambience

Quiet Tavern Ambience

[Photos are my own]

You woke with a start, the white canvas of the morning sky blinding you as a crow cawed from above. You cast you gaze about bleary eyed, taking in your surroundings. You were back at your camp, but mightily dishevelled, half your clothes on, half off, and various parts exposed to the elements. The last embers of the fire burned, soft wafts of smoke dying down.

What the hell happened last night? You wondered, casting your thoughts back and rubbing your face, feeling almost as if you had a hangover. Fixing your clothes, you turned your attention to your equipment and the camp. Anything that wasn’t necessary to have on you today you bagged back up into your luggage bag and pushed into the hollow of the tree that you had camped against; mostly some clothing, sleeping bag, tarpaulin… you paused as you got to the bow that the Duke had gifted to you, eyeing it up. As much as you felt safer with it, today you would have to try to be inconspicuous, and this weapon was not going to help with that. You stuffed it hastily as far bag into the hollow as you could, hooking it on a knot on the inside of the tree so that it hung safely, completely out of view, and then threw leaves over the bag.

The distance seemed shorter this time going towards the cliff edge that overlooked the village. You took out your binoculars from a pouch on your hip and got down onto your stomach to scout the area. From where you were you could easily see the castle with its spiky turrets in the distance, slightly shrouded by a fine mist at this hour. If it weren’t for the whole situation that you were in and the very obvious unease that this place was already causing you, you’d have maybe even called this gothic monster ‘beautiful’. Leading up to it were many small houses, each made slightly differently to the next, but somehow all similar. Some with thatched roofs, some tile, some metal. You were only at the brink of this village, but you could sense poverty from here, being used to living in a modern world and never feeling like you’d had to struggle too much for food or material needs. Your eyes were drawn to a route that should give you access easily into the village by way of going behind some of the closer buildings, and with a quick sweep, checking that no one was currently about, you decided to go now.

The village had a spattering of snow, less than a foot for sure, and for the most part it had been trodden down and thinned. Coming up to the first house you crouched down behind a small brick wall, which looked as though it had started to tumble over. Again, you couldn’t see anyone here, but you could definitely hear livestock; a pig and maybe some chickens. Peering over the top of the wall towards the house you noticed a washing line, its contents bouncing slowly in the slight breeze. There were yellowed white briefs, a petty coat, bonnets, a dress made out of material that looked itchier than it looked practical, and also a hooded cloak. You pondered for a moment if taking an entire line of clothes to disguise yourself was a good idea or not and then decided against it; you whipped the cloak down, it being very dull and drab in both colour and fabric, with no distinguishing features, and threw the large hood up over your head. It was big enough even to hide your eyes, the swells of fabric wrapping around your arms and body, providing more warmth as well as what you hoped would deter anyone from making too much notice of you. Your boots and trousers were visible, from the knee down, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Nearing the centre, you started to hear the sounds you’d expect to hear in a small village like this. The day was light enough to see everything clearly; a statue of a lady holding a sword and shield. Something about it sent a shiver down your back. It wasn’t that it looked creepy, it just felt… familiar somehow. This looked as though it was perhaps the centre of the village; a woman sat on a bench knitting, a couple of children played with a stick and hoop. That felt weird too. It was the turn of the millennium, and yet here children were playing with really outdated toys. A little way up you could see a hill rising with some gravestones dotted here and there to the left of it. Already you could feel the eyes of the children staring at you and the quiet clacking of the knitting needles had stopped. Keeping your head down, you carried on walking, your feet choosing to take you up the small hill, past the gravestones. You passed a strange wooden shine on your right, not daring to turn your head to look at the details right now, for you’d hoped that they people here might assume that you were one of them thus letting you become invisible. You’d had undercover jobs before that you’d excelled at, but things felt very different here. Every step you took made the feeling of foreboding grow stronger in you. Up ahead was a door depicting two characters, one looked like a woman, the other, you weren’t too sure, but it looked sturdy and as though it might lead to the great castle, so that didn’t seem like you’d be unnoticed if you tried that door. To the right a long alley way, but it looked to lead away from the village, and to the right again the iron gates into the grounds of a small church, with a bubble of people emerging from its doors now. Yes, you had to lay low and try not to turn heads, but you also needed information, maybe if you passed through this crowd as if you were going somewhere you could eavesdrop some clues.

You made your way over and saw a man dressed like a vicar of sorts standing at the church doors while the villagers left, his hands raised in the air and a grin on his face. His eyes were eerily shadowed with darkness, but this didn’t seem to deter his congregation.

“Thank you for coming to today’s assembly to pay our respects to our beloved saviour, Mother Miranda. Volunteers and the Heretic’s Judgement are to be held tomorrow at Mother’s church.”

Just then you accidentally bumped right into someone emerging from the crowd, the impact making you both exhaled audibly, and the villager dropping their item to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?” You asked, seeing her face as she looked up to see whom she had bumped into. You mentally kicked yourself for being automatically nicely mannered when you could have just trundled past. Instead, you stopped to pick up what you saw now to be a small bouquet of flowers, seeing her smiling at you as you handed them to her.

“Oh yes, I’m quite alright.” She said warmly. She looked to be in her forties with grey blue eyes, mousy brown hair and bangs. “Are you?”

You were taken aback for a moment; you didn’t expect anyone to ask how you were. In all honesty you’d been better. “No damage done.” You smiled, making sure to pull the cloak over any item of clothing that might give you away for being from further afield than the next village or so. The church doors had closed, and the rest of the crowd had now disbanded into the rest of the village.

“You look to me like you could do with a hot meal and a warm bath. If you beg my pardon for saying so.” She took a step back and extended her hand. “I’m Luiza by the way.”

“Y/N.” You replied, shaking it. Is this a good idea? You asked yourself, but you couldn’t help but trust the woman.

“I was just about to lay these down in the cemetery, if you’d like to join me Y/N.” Luiza offered, indicating to the small bouquet. There was a look in her eyes, like she was trying to tell you something.

“Yes of course.”

The two of you made your way a little past the church and through some more iron gates, this time into a space that was on a slight slope with a couple of crypts and tombs. Checking around her to make sure that no one else was around, Luiza turned her eyes back to you slowly.

“You’re not from here.” She stated. You swallowed.

“No, I’m from the next town over, I’m passing through to –“

“Please. You’re not from here, your accent, your boots… but your eyes, your eyes are what really gave it away. If you’d ever lived near here, you’d never have the damn nerve to even come.” She waved a hand in the air, and yet looked remorsefully subdued. You didn’t quite know what to say.

You looked down to the ground, shame seeping in as if from the snow at your feet.

“I’m searching for a friend.” You said solemnly. “He’s here somewhere, at least, I think. I think that he came here on a lead; whether he’s here to help someone or it’s to do with something that concerns us… I’m not sure. But he’s been gone a while now, and I’d like to get him back home.” Saying it made it all the more real, and you could feel your throat growing tight. The whole time that you’d been speaking Luiza had listened intently, yet her face remained soft. Something twinkled in her pale eyes, a knowing.

“Do you have a picture, of your friend?” She asked.

“Yes.” You unzipped the RPD bag hanging at your side and carefully pulled the photo from the wallet inside. “His name is Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Luiza took the photo into her own hand carefully, studying it and then handed it back.

“You should come over for some dinner tonight Y/N. See that gate over there?” She pointed back towards the church but the opposite side from which you’d entered. “Through that gate, turn left and all the way up the hill. My husband and I are having goulash tonight, if that might tempt you.”

“With dumplings?”

“I can do them if you’d like.” She smiled, turning away to face a small gravestone. “Come after nightfall but be careful on your way.”

“I will.” You started heading back towards the church and then turned to ask, “Who is it? That you’re visiting I mean.”

“My daughter.” She replied.

You left Luiza at her daughter’s grave and felt your stomach rumble. The last 24 hours had been gruelling on your body, you were cramping with no pain relief, nor for your knee, which was already aching, a reminder of the stress you’d put it through the day before fighting that… beast, and then you remembered; the dream… what had happened? That was the same beast as the one you’d slain. But what, you’d resurrected it? You wondered what it meant, and then you started to recall what had happened after. Your cheeks burned red in an instant, spreading over your neck and ears. Confusion ultimately taking over. Well at least I’m warm now, you sneered at yourself, and then felt another rumble. I need food.

Luiza seemed like she could be a good ally to have here, and something told you that she recognised that picture of Leon; even if she was the only person that would help you out you felt happy that you had at least something potentially to go on. You headed back into the centre of the village, with the intention of heading back to your camp for another preserved snack and then it hit you; the smell of eggs and bacon. It was drifting up from somewhere a little way past the statue to the left and you followed it around without a care.

“The Fat Goose” The sign read above the door. It looked to be a small inn of sorts with a few townsfolk coming in and out, and in seemingly good spirits. You made sure that your hood was pulled back up over your eyes and made your way in. It was like many other humble pubs that you’d frequented here and there, mostly when visiting back home in England. A long bar at the back of the room, a door leading somewhere at the back, and the clientele sat hunched over round tables upon stools, leaning close to the fire, or shouting above one another at the bar itself. It wasn’t the busiest, but it seemed to be where the majority of the village had decided to spend their day if they did not have work to be done. You could see a couple of the villagers did indeed have meals here of all sorts; chicken, bread, cheese, and most importantly eggs and bacon. You could feel yourself salivating.

Keeping your head low you approached the barkeep, the Lei ready in your hand, and slid it across the surface towards him. “Eggs, bacon and ale, thank you.” You pushed your coin over to him. You’d been lucky, upon meeting the Duke he’d brought up local currency and exchanged what you’d made the mistake of purchasing at the airport.

The barkeeper was quietly suspicious, evident in the way that he eyed you up, taking a moment to pause cleaning the tankard in his hands to take the money and gave a nod back.

“We’ll bring it over to yer table.” He said, turning back to what he was doing. You chanced a glance around the room and decided to take a seat at a vacant table by the window. It felt like a safe spot; you could see the door and the bar, but you were also tucked into a corner out of the way, the only light cast by the fire on the other side of the room and a couple of candles over head in brackets.

The ale was with you in no time at all. You’d never actually drank ale before and weren’t expecting it to be the tastiest of drinks, but there wasn’t much choice here. The eggs and bacon shortly followed, filling the room with a smell that made you stomach growl again.

The door flew open and you suddenly noticed the difference between the warmth of the inn with the bite of the outside air. The chill swept into the pub with the figures of two men, both tall and brawny, but one much larger than the other. They seemed to be deep in conversation but trying to keep their voices to a murmur that they could only hear between themselves.

They were dressed similarly; the taller man’s clothes had more of a darker and subdued palette. He had a head of grey hair, and a beard to match, a broad forehead, kind eyes and a nose which looked as though it had been broken at least once. The shorter of the two, but by no means lacking in height had a similar long coat but in more earthy tones. His face was hidden by a dark brown leather hat of sorts, well-worn with a mess of dark hair streaked with grey. The other patrons went quiet as the men entered and then began nodding at them, some even tilting a hat, before going back to their business.

Something began stirring in your stomach and you looked down at your food, maybe the eggs were off? You looked up again, unconscious of being unable to stop watching them, or more specifically, the man with the hat. He definitely felt your gaze right at that moment as he slowly turned his face over his right shoulder to look at you from behind dark, circular shades hiding his eyes from view. Time seemed to stop. He was really looking, and you felt as though you were tumbling backwards down through the biggest chasm carved into the stars.

“Oh boy.” You breathed as the man suddenly turned his head back to reply to something that his towering friend had said, who in turn, then noticed you, glancing over his friend’s head. The feeling in your stomach had grown so intense that it felt as though it had now pummelled its way into your chest too. This felt like danger and sickness all wrapped into one. You had half a mind to leave now, but you knew that not only would that rouse more suspicion, you just also didn’t want to.

“Urias, Karl.” The bartender came over to the two men at the bar, “What can I get you?”

Sometime later a beautiful, red haired girl came to take your plate away. Despite being so hungry when you first came into the establishment, once the men had entered, you’d felt so nauseous that you’d barely been able to manage another bite. You tried to channel your thoughts, calm the storm in your stomach and ease your breathing. You were getting there, managing to ground yourself, but every few minutes your eyes were drawn back to that man, was he Urias or was he Karl? Which name suited him most? Urias sounded strong and noble, well he certainly looked strong. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, suddenly emitting raucous laughter from something that his friend said which shocked you out of your trance; and then he fell silent, starring at the other man so intensely that it scared you.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” He asked. The pub fell silent. You were so focused on the scene, as was everyone else that you neglected to notice the way your tankard had started to slowly drift up into the air along with everyone else’s.

“I’m sorry my friend, I am not. I am going to marry her.”

“God fucking damnit Urias!” He bellowed, slamming a fist down on the bar. Everything fell with a bang, ale sloshing over the tables and with that he stormed out of the pub. Urias rubbed a giant hand over his face, the skin gathering in mounds between each finger. The bartender brought over a new tankard, about three times the size of the regular ones and let it thud down in front of Urias.

“On the house, chief.”

Urias took it in his man-paw and without hesitation turned towards you, walking over.

“Are you going to tell me who you are then, fabled traveller. I can tell you come from very far away.” He sounded like how you imagined a talking bear to sound, deep and rumbly. He had a big, square chin, his jaw jutted out slightly, strong teeth, big lips and kind eyes. He poured a little of the ale from his giant vessel into your own, indicating for you to stay put. No one else in the pub seemed to be paying attention, at least not with their eyes, this man must have some hold or power over them.

“My name is Y/N, and I am looking for my friend.” You told him truthfully, face down, but eyes looking up at him. You were scared, for sure, but you wouldn’t let it show. You were here for a reason, you’d come this far, you weren’t going to leave without Leon, and you meant it. You slid the photo across the table to him and he took it tenderly, bringing it closer to his face, all that way up to take a look. He tilted his head to the side.

“Have you spoken to anyone else?” He asked, eyes flitting between you and the photo.

“One other.” You replied, not mentioning who.

“Y/A my name is Urias, as you might have heard my friend eloquently let the world know earlier. I am the chief of this village. My brother and I-“ He paused and looked down at his hands. “My brother and I came from a mountain clan, our blood line has been chief there for generations, but we wanted to see more of the world and make our mark, learn trades and earn our keep. We came to this village when we were both merely men grown, that was a long time ago now.” He had a faraway look in his eyes, turning now to look out of the window, it was already beginning to grow dark and a drift of snow had begun to descend once more. “We climbed the ranks here, doing what we could to help protect the village and its population…” He paused again in thought. “To help, however we could. It’s just me now, but I still want that, I still want to do what’s right for my people”

He took a deep drink from the tankard, which now that you were looking at it closely, looked more like a small barrel with a makeshift handle.

“Y/N I will help you however I can, but please understand this; this is no normal village, there are things at work here even I can’t quite explain. Tensions are very high, and an outsider coming in looking for a missing friend,” He tilted his head and gave a small chuckle, “Well, that’s not going to go down so well with some of the villagers, and especially not with the higher ups.”

“You mean Mother Miranda?” You asked bluntly. He swung his head to look you dead in the eyes.

“How do you know her name?”

“I did my research before I came; I don’t know much about her Urias, but I have a bad feeling about her.” Your cheeks burned from being so forward.

He laughed again, “You’re not the only one.” He muttered, casting you a careful sideways glance, taking you in some more. He looked like he was pondering or considering something. “There are a seldom few here that you can trust, so be careful. You can find me at my house, some of the folk they call it ‘the chief’s hut’, or else I’ll likely be here, at least for now.” His mind seemed to trail off somewhere else.

Noticing that night had indeed now fallen you bid your farewell and shook the giant’s paw and made your way outside into the chill of night, thankful for the stolen cloak wrapped around your frame.

You started around the side of the pub, back towards the route that would take you directly to Luiza’s house when something wrapped around your throat and shoved you against the wall. The breath was choked out of you upon impact and your hood fell, your hair falling down in-front of your eyes as you blinked them open, trying to see what had happened. Pain started spreading in your body; the cuts on your torso, your knee blazed and the cramps starting up again like knives. The thing around your throat was a hand, larger than your own but not huge, nails digging into your flesh.

You tried to say something, a warning a threat, but whoever it was, was closing your throat.

“Don’t pretend I didn’t see you making eyes at me in there darling,” A man’s voice drooled. “We don’t see tourists all too often around here, but I’m sure an outsider like you will be carrying something of value.”

You didn’t recognise the face in front of you at all. A man in his twenties, maybe, fairly non-descript with short mousey brown hair and some stubble. He absolutely reeked of alcohol. Your right hand shot instinctively towards your knife and he twisted your wrist anti-clockwise immediately disarming you, shoving you back against the wall with the force of his body and then reaching for any other weapons. Of course, he found the pistols, kicking one aside and holding the other to your temple.

“These will bring me a pretty Lei or two, I’m sure the Duke would be happy to pay me handsomely. What other souvenirs have you got under that cloak of yours?”

You scrabbled against his hands, trying to execute the self-defence you’d been taught for situations such as these. You tried to get to his weak points; wrist, elbow, knee, balls, but he had you at his mercy. The number of tight spots and situations you’d come up against in your time and you couldn’t do a damn thing if someone had you pinned when their strength was greater than your own. Your hands gripped against his arm, legs kicking.

“Hand it over and I won’t hurt you. Much.” He pressed the cold of your pistol harshly into the skin under your chin.

“No!” You rasped, suddenly being thrown down for a second but caught by something before you hit the ground. Strong, hot arms held you up from falling.

You dared to open your eyes, looking over the arm at the man’s fate. He was sprawled on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth.

“Get the fuck out of here.” A voice rumbled from above you. You looked up. It was Karl. You winced again and the younger man tore off into the darkness without looking back. Your body trembled from pain, cold and something else.

You looked up again. Although you still couldn’t see his eyes you could see some sort of unearthly glow behind the glasses. His skin looked fairly tanned, smooth but worn, tired maybe, and small scars scattered here and there. You were still in his arms, entranced, and so warm.

“Thank you.” You breathed. He swallowed hard and blinked, turning his face away from you, he let his arms drop now that you were on your feet, but you were still close against his body, which now felt so tense. Was he shaking?

“Go.” He exhaled. You faltered, putting a hand to his arm, he flinched, his breathing deepened. “Please.” He shut his eyes. What was this man fighting?

You gulped, stepping back, not understanding, pulling your cloak around you, and stooping to retrieve your weapons.

“Karl, Y/N what’s going on?” Urias lurched out of the pub doors, “What was that commotion?”

A couple of moments passed where you were staring at Urias, holding your cloak to you and expecting Karl to answer, but nothing happened. You turned around to look at Karl, but he wasn’t there.

Urias offered to escort you himself to Luiza’s from there. You told him what happened and although he was furious at what had happened, swearing he’d try to find the culprit and have them punished; he did not seem surprised by Karl’s sudden disappearance. To say you were shaken up was an understatement, but you at least felt safer being with this humungous man of the mountains as you made your way through the snowy night.

Song Suggestion: ‘Stumble and Pain’ by Joseph Arthur

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 3

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

“Going off the information I have listed here, it appears as though you’ll be receiving subject N-45, today. She’s a healthy 22 year old female. Her short, but muscular body weighs 95lbs with a childish height of 4’10” tall. She possesses primarily Romanian and Filipino ancestry, with some Dutch or Finnish or... whatever, thrown in there as well. And according to the various items we found on her person when she was first brought in, she’s apparently a graduate student at the University of Bucharest, or, at least she was, before she drove her car into a tree while driving up the mountain and was recovered by Heisenberg” Miranda explains robotically, reading aloud from a piece of paper held inside a thick manila envelope. “Of the 4 remaining test subjects, N-45 is easily the most violent and difficult one to work with, having to be either anesthetized or restrained every time I wanted to so much as take her vitals or stabilize her condition. When given smaller doses of sedatives she-”

For the first time in his entire life, Salvatore completely ignores whatever unimportant nonsense Mother Miranda is going on about, continuing to take in and analyze the strikingly unique appearance of the young woman before him.

Upon first inspection, N-45 appeared to resemble that of a normal woman in just about every way possible. Her hair was scruffy and very short, barely long enough to reach her eyes, and a deep black color that looked so soft and luxurious that Salvatore ached to run his fingers through it. Her face was slightly round, giving the young woman a very youthful appearance, with her sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones being some of the only things keeping Salvatore from mistaking her for a child. And lastly, her... figure, if Salvatore had to put such an embarrassing idea into words, was similar to that of Mother Miranda, only shorter, more compact even. It reminded the hooded man of those small packets of candy Duke occasionally gifted him that said “fun sized” on the label, in reference to them being much smaller than the standard sized candy bars and yet somehow being… better, despite technically giving you less candy.

She was already perfect as she was, but it was not just N-45’s beautiful human features that pulled Salvatore in and refused to let him escape the stupefaction he’d been placed under, but also her mutations.

A soft royal blue coated her from head to toe, giving way only to a large patch of solid white located on her chest and stomach. Her skin catches the light in a way that reveals areas of tiny overlapping scales, glimmering like stars in the midnight sky, or freshly polished armor, perhaps, along the bony ridges and tender curves of her figure.

Small white dots distributed like paint splatters across the colored sections of her flesh give a similar visual effect as freckles, starting from her hairline and extending all the way down to the very tips of her toes. These galaxies of white were invisible only on the white patch along the front of her torso, as well as on the lighter blue hue taken on by both the palms and webbings of her hands and feet.

Long Fin-like extensions grew along both her forearms and lower back. The former extended outward and inward like a windshield wiper, likely used to decrease water resistance. The latter, however, perhaps used to increase fine motor maneuverability while swimming at greater speeds or in tighter spaces, grew straight downwards from her lower back in an overlapping fan configuration that marginally covered her rear end, though not by very much. The fins looked like a soft, delicate material that was probably very flexible but very durable, if Salvatore had to guess just from looking.

And to top everything off, N-45 even appeared to even have gills, 2 different sets by the looks of it. The first set of 3 breathing slits was located horizontally along both sides of her neck, while the second set could be found on both sides of her torso, following the downward angle of her ribs but stopping just underneath her soft, plump-looking breasts.

Salvatore feels a sudden wave of heat cascade over his body and he turns his face away in shameful embarrassment as he suddenly realizes that N-45, much like every test subject undergoing cadou treatment, was still very, very nude at the present moment.

“I can’t make any promises regarding her disposition, but physically speaking, she’s ready to be released to you whenever you’d like. I’ll have some of the villagers transport and release her into the reservoir later this week” Mother Miranda says, pressing a button to close the pod now that Salvatore was no longer staring at her.

“W-wait just a m-moment” Salvatore calls out, prompting Mother Miranda to halt the closing of the pod.

“Yes? What is it?” The woman asks curtly, clearly not wanting to stand here and watch Salvatore any longer than she has to.

Wringing his hands together nervously, Salvatore meekly asks, “C-could… could y-you wake h-her up… s-so that I can s-speak with her… j-just for a m-moment?”

Mother Miranda remains silent for a moment, blank face staring directly at Salvatore as she contemplates what to do.

“No, Moreau,” she says finally. “I’ve had a very busy day today and I'm quite tired. N-45 is a menace that I struggle to deal with even on my best days. The last thing I need is something going wrong and her getting out and causing all sorts of chaos.”

Salvatore’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he makes no further attempts to argue.

Mother Miranda rolls her eyes at the incredibly childish display, walking over to place a gentle hand on Salvatore’s head. “Would it make you feel better if I agreed to have N-45 be the first of the subjects to be dropped off? It’ll be more difficult than my original plan, but I suppose it was a bit unfair that you were the only one who didn’t get to “pick” their gift.”

“Yes, M-Mother Miranda… I-I’d like th-that very… very m-much” Salvatore says, leaning into the touch as Mother Miranda begins guiding him back toward the hallway leading to the exit door.

It wasn’t until after Miranda had exited the lab and begun walking down the long hallway toward the exit that Salvatore dared cast another glance back at the pod that contained N-45, wistfully thinking of how amazing her hand had felt in his, and how much he wanted to speak to her.

Just as the disfigured man was about to turn back and follow Miranda out of the laboratory, a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, prompting Salvatore to tense and snap toward the 4 pods, frantically trying to figure out what it was he saw. A few seconds of stillness pass before Salvatore sees movement again, not freely moving about the room like he originally expected, but from within one of the 4 pods, his pod to be exact.

His curiosity momentarily outweighing his nerves, Salvatore slowly approaches the metal capsule, trying to get a look through the small pane of glass that allows visual access into the holding pod.

Another flash of movement has Salvatore flinching, jumping back as though he’d been advanced upon. After several seconds of stillness, however, the hooded man regains his confidence and once again inches his way toward the capsule, moving his head up and down to try and get one more glimpse at N-45 before he has to leave. One last look before she lays eyes upon his vile and disgusting body for the first time, screaming and calling him a monster as she runs away, leaving him alone and without anyone to call his own. Just like always.

“ Hello ?”

Salvatore froze dead in his tracks, his heart pounding and his lungs refusing to take in air, as a soft, muffled, questioning voice reaches the deformed man’s ears, followed by two golden orbs with narrow black slits running vertically through the center, that slowly peek into view from the bottom of the glass window. Salvatore’s eyes widen in shock as he quickly realizes that the orbs of gold are not, in fact, just spheres of color, but rather a pair of eyes, staring intently at him from inside the pod.

“Uuuuuh… u-u-uuum… I-i… I w-was just…” the disfigured man stuttered as he struggled to move his body, seemingly paralyzed by the bewitching gaze currently locked onto him, looking at him with an intensity that makes Salvatore wonder if this is what it feels like to be a cell put under a microscope.

It isn’t until Salvatore notices the golden orbs moving and shifting from one corner of the window pane to the other that the hooded man realizes, to his immediate horror, that he might not be the only one trying to get a better look at the figure located on the other side of the pod door. Panic and fear immediately fill Salvatore from deep within, growing strong enough to allow him to finally overcome his temporary paralysis and skitter away from view. Pulling his hood even further over his petrifyingly grotesque face in shame of himself, Salvatore flees the laboratory as quickly as his hobbled limp would allow.

His heart pounds to the beat of the soft, but desperate pleas of protest coming from N-45’s pod in response to Salvatore’s rapidly retreating form, yet the hooded man cannot bring himself to believe what he hears as true. Perhaps believing that the siren-like voice he hears echoing off the metal laboratory walls to be nothing more than a trick of his sick and lonely mind, Salvatore does not stop, nor does he turn back around until he’s met up with Mother Miranda at the exit to the surface, lungs burning and legs aching from running for so far and long.

“Oh, there you are, Moreau,” Mother Miranda says suddenly, stopping just before they are about to exit the laboratory. “I’m glad you chose this time to finally catch up, because I just realized a second ago that I’d forgotten to give you N-45’s previous name. You can name her something else if you’d prefer, of course, but I offered the information to your siblings so I suppose I should offer it to you as well. Would you still like to know N-45’s name, or would you rather abandon her given name for one of your own choosing?”

After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Salvatore lifts his head, “I… I-i would like to k-know… her n-name… please...” the mutant man says softly.

Mother Miranda briefly raises a questioning eyebrow at Salvatore’s nervous body language, but ultimately rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders, all but tossing the Manila envelope containing N-45’s information at the hooded man before disappearing out the large metal door.

“If you’re going to read that now, feel free, but return to the meeting room once you're done. And be sure to lock the door to my laboratory behind you” Miranda commands, her voice having grown echoey due to how far away she now was.

“Yes, M-Mother” Salvatore calls after her as he scrambles to catch the thrown file and prevent any loose papers from falling out. Once he’s got a solid handle on the thick envelope, he opens it, casting a quick glance back in the direction of the pod room, where Nadine and the other 3 gifts were being held for the time being.

Returning to the file, Salvatore frantically flips through every page, trying to find the one that held N-45’s personal background information.

After several minutes of desperate flipping back and forth, Salvatore finally focuses on one particular piece of paper that looked to have been in the file for the longest. Pulling out the particular page he’d found, the disfigured man drops the rest of the folder onto the ground and begins rapidly skimming through the information printed on the page, his hungry eyes refusing to stop until they finally zeroed in on the information he’d been looking for.

Project: E.V.A. Resurrection

Subject: N-45

Parasite Administered: Cadou (Series- N; Strain- 45)

Family Name: Bogdan

Given Name: Nadine

“N… Nadine” Salvatore said slowly, feeling slightly lightheaded and out of breath as each individual letter of the young woman’s name rolled off his tongue like Camembert cheese; smooth, creamy, decedent, and likely to keep him up all night with an upset stomach and a racing heartbeat.

Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine. Nadine.

The name quickly became a broken loop played over and over and over again inside Salvatore’s head, his mind unable, or rather unwilling, to think of anything else as he read, reread, and then re-reread Nadine’s name at least 100 times, before finally setting the piece of paper down.

“Nadine...” Salvatore breathes the name once again, his voice carrying a wistful tone. “E-even your n-name is wonderful...”

An already beautiful woman, made even more perfect through the power of science and Mother Miranda’s grace, only for all that potential to end up wasted in the hands of a desperately lonely and horrifically mangled fish mutant, who was more likely to accidentally dissolve her in stomach acid than woo her like some kind of aquatic Prince Charming.

“Y-ya right... e-e-even with a-another mutant… I’m s-still so disgusting a-an… and horrifying in comparison… n-not even my o-own kind can b-bring thems-themselves to love me f-for who I a-am… not th-that there’s much of m-me that’s worth l-loving to begin w-with” Moreau laments to himself, wondering if it was even worth holding out hope that things with Nadine could go his way. As if one look at his monstrous form wouldn’t be enough to ruin everything Salvatore already has an agonizingly low chance of ever having with that magnificent specimen of a woman.

Even with Nadine’s own external mutations making it clear that she was no longer fully human, her form had still retained such a beautifully strong, yet womanly shape to it, and her face still looked so young and innocent despite everything that she’s been through. Someone as beautiful as her was far too good and pure to be tainted by his filthy hands.

‘Maybe I should just kill her when the villagers arrive with her at the gate? At least then... I could say I put her out of her misery before she had to experience it for herself…’ Salvatore sulks mentally.

However, despite the self degrading thoughts running through his mind, the memory of the curious look Nadine’s shockingly bright and mesmerizing golden eyes held when trying to look at Salvatore through the pod window made the hooded man shiver, having never been looked upon in such an innocently curious manner before. Most people who got that close to Salvatore didn’t even need to see his face in order to start screaming and running away in terror. However, if the deformed man allowed himself a brief moment to believe that it was indeed her who’d been calling him to come back and show himself, then from the tone and rushed quality of her voice, it would seem as though Nadine was unsatisfied with the fact that she hadn’t seen all of Salvatore’s face and body, not terrified.

How strange...

How very strange indeed…

[softomi]

now accepting boyfriend applications: literature

synopsis: phone dead, laptop gone, guess it’s an old fashioned having to sit down and talk to the boys who apparently are interested in the position of being your boyfriend. first; you just have to make it to your literature class. 

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: now accepting boyfriend applications

next up: intro to business 

series taglist: @kyomihann @chesley-cant-deal @bluearmufs @your-consulting-fangirl @itsmeaudrieee @winunk @aegiseterna @katelyns-stuff @mochipk @3rachachoo @kyuudere

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen @waitforitillwritemywayout

Your phone was still charging, it’s in your bag plugged into a power bank and you’re hoping it’ll charge enough soon. You’ve made it to campus with five minutes to spare, you can already see Akaashi through the windows of the class. He’s absolutely cute and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him, but you were so blissfully in love with your ex that you never took the chance to fully indulge yourself to fantasize.

And while he’s in class looking like he just walked right out of a manga in a university setting; you look exactly as it would sound like, as if you just woke up and ran to campus. Your hair is a mess, you tried running through campus attempting to put it up in a bun, it’s lopsided and you’re using the hood of your sweatshirt to try and cover up the mess of a mop it is. It doesn’t help that the only reason you’re wearing a sweatshirt is because you didn’t have time to put on a bra so yeah, you’re walking around campus with no bra on and the ugly sweatpants with wine stains on it doesn’t do you justice either. You’re even decked out with a pair of sandals.

Honestly, how were you going to walk into class, look at Akaashi in the face, and just act as if he didn’t send you a boyfriend application. When he sees you, he’ll definitely retract his resume.

There’s two minutes left and you’re awkwardly poking your head in. No one is giving you the time of day but it feels like all eyes are on you when you step in. Perhaps you shouldn’t be too ashamed of your looks as you’re nearing the end of the semester and most girls have switched out their cute skirts for tracksuit pants.

You’re slowly going towards your seat, Akaashi diligently writing in his notebook and he finally looks up. Through his glasses, he meets your gaze, his lips slowly part and he’s blinking as if wondering if you were really you. As you pull into your seat, he stares down at his notebook, he’s stopped writing and everything in you is just screaming at you to not scream out loud because there was no going back on this weird friendship type relationship that you two have developed.

Akaashi shuffles in his seat, his body is turned to face you and he’s so close to opening his mouth when the teacher’s voice makes his thoughts stop. He turns back to face the front, no words exchanged as you pull out your notebook, pencil, and charging cell phone that’s just reached fifteen percent. For the first time since the beginning of the semester, you’re going to take notes and listen intently to this hour and fifteen-minute long lecture.

Only ten minutes have passed and your professor has done nothing but decided to review on what the difference between a primary article and a secondary article is because some people just don’t understand why Wikipedia is not an official source. You peek a look over at Akaashi. He, too, seems incredibly bored but his hardworking nature has him at least trying to focus on the professor despite the pen in his hand drawing circles on his notepad.

When he looks over at you, a small smile on his lips, you’re quick to turn away with a blush on your cheeks.

At thirty minutes, your phone is dancing on the edge of thirty percent. It’s enough to get you to start looking through your phone and you find yourself once again clicking on Akaashi’s email. You lean your arm onto the desk, tilting your body just enough that you think he wouldn’t be able to see that you’re looking at his boyfriend application.

You’re skipping passed official details, instead ceasing the scrolling when you reach his skillset. It’s all very professional sounding despite him referring to relationship and dating. It makes you crack a smile, you want to laugh out loud and not because it’s funny but because it’s actually really cute.

One of my skillsets is my height, considering your shorter height, I will be able to provide assistance whenever needed. While I may once in a while enjoy your smaller stature, I will try not to bring it up repeatedly to spare you of your feelings.

You bite down on your lower lip, suppressing the immense grin that wants to grow on your face. Through the strands of your hair, you peek another glance at him. This time he’s removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes slowly, a small yawn falling through his lips.

My biggest weakness is my busy schedule. I spend most of my days working part-time at the campus library and studying. As a literature major, I have multiple readings, essays, and assignments which may hinder my time to have a steady relationship but I believe that this weakness will later play a role as a strength in how devoted I am to what I love.

Well, that just made your heart skip ten beats.

My future goals include working as an editor, but right now my shorter-term goal would be to graduate with my literature degree on time. Another short-term goal I had developed over the semester was to ask you out on a date.

Your stomach spirals, you’re internally groaning at how cute this actually was.

“There’s twenty minutes left of class, during this time I’d like you to discuss with your revision partner about your last draft.”

Shit. You’re screaming in your head because this was not happening. Now you had to talk to Akaashi. The voices of students have now taken over the classroom, when you turn to look at Akaashi, a meek smile on you as he’s staring with his head tilted.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking so nicely, his voice soft and genuine. It feels like forever since someone has been so sweet to you.

Your hand reaches to scratch the back of your neck, a weak curve on your lips, “It’s been a pretty hectic twenty-four hours.”

Akaashi leans on his desk, cheek pressed against his palm and he’s asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your lips fall into a small pout because he’s just so sincere. He’s always been. Maybe that was why you had just the teeniest of crush on him earlier in the semester because he remembered the small details. When he noticed you switched from coffee to tea, you ranted to him for five minutes about how your boyfriend was adamant on you changing your lifestyle by switching to healthier options. The next class time you had together, Akaashi brought you coffee because as long as your boyfriend didn’t know then it was alright.

“Are you sure you want to listen to me?” You quirk a brow at him, “Because I’ll talk for the rest of the time.”

Akaashi sits up straight, flipping his notebook, pen ready in hand, “I must have forgotten to list listening as one of my strengths.” Your face burns all of a sudden, he has the smallest smirk on his face when he turns back to you, “I’ll take notes, tell me what’s wrong.”

You’re not used to someone listening to you, you’re used to someone interrupting you. It felt awkward at first, just letting everything roll off your tongue, and your eyes keep darting to the way his pen moves against his notebook. Was he actually taking notes of your rant? When you finish, he’s smiling, there’s a warmth to his grin that has you internally groaning.

“What did you write down?” You’re leaning over now, trying to get a good look at his notebook and you don’t even notice that the embarrassment in you has lifted. You’re no longer plagued with awkwardness like you were an hour ago.

Akaashi tilts his notebook for you to clearly see his handwriting. A wide smile taking over your expression. She’s cute when she’s talking. He was indeed more straightforward than you had imagined, you pictured him as shy and cute, while he was definitely the latter, he came off boldly.

“If I have to be honest.” He states suddenly, “My friend threw together that application and then sent it to you and then messaged you.” Your expression falters but he’s adverting his eyes just slightly, “I was too shy to try and message to ask if you were alright and well, my friend tends to get a little out of hand.” He’s grinning once more, rubbing the back of his neck, “I guess it sort of worked out in the end.”

The professor’s voice draws your attention, “Once you’re done discussing with your partner, you’re free to leave.”

You look at the time, sparing a glance to Akaashi, “I’m sorry, I have to get to my next class.” You’re shoving your stuff into your backpack and he also quickly packs up.

“I’ll walk you.” He’s so eager that he almost knocks over his coffee cup, “I mean if it’s alright with you?”

“Sure, my next class is.”

Akaashi interjects, “Intro to Business, across campus.”

You’re surprised he remembers, a little impressed that it feels like he’s leading the way to your next class. For a moment it’s silent, you can tell he’s a little nervous but heck you’re also very nervous.

“You said two other guys sent you an application?”

Slowly you nod, “I mean one’s definitely a no, he’s just so cocky, definitely not my type. The other?” You think for a moment, “He’s really nice, funny, and we’ve kind of built up a friendship over the semester.” You notice how silent Akaashi has suddenly fallen.

“So.” Akaashi is quiet, “Then you would say that I’m up against him?” The two of you have stopped in front of your class, Akaashi staring down at you; the look in his eyes suddenly changes. He was getting competitive, “I’ll make sure to win you over.”

Your cheeks dust with a blush. He’s suddenly digging in his bag; he pulls out a baseball style cap. His hand tugging back your hood, undoing your sloppy bun to let your hair fall down. Your heart races at the way he sneaks in a stroke through your hair before fitting the cap onto your head. It’s loosely hanging until he leans into you, he smells of a deep forest and you’re tempted to just wrap your fingers on his t-shirt and pull him in a little bit more.

“You’ll probably be more comfortable with a hat than a hood.” He pulls away once he’s fixed the strap but his scent lingers momentarily, “You should get to class.” He states sweetly, taking in the cute way you’re trying to hide your face with his hat.

“I’ll message you.” You say as you slowly hang around the doorway to your class, “To return the hat.” And possibly more. You think.

The moment you turn away, a blushing grin on you with your heart beating rapidly; everything stops when you come face to face with Kuroo Tetsuro. He’s got a cheeky look on him, slightly eyeing the man still lingering outside of the classroom. The two men meet gazes and there’s a sharp sting between the two; an acknowledgement of an opponent.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 15

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual mentions

A/N:  hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

    - I think we suffer from the same thing, then … Sir. - her lashes fluttered slowly and Sebastian wondered if time had stopped moving and she was perhaps the only person who held that control.

    - Fuck it. - his hands flew to the sides of her face, grabbing her close to him so he could connect his lips to hers. Y/N fell down onto he couch, losing balance at the sheer veracity of the kiss. He swiftly turned her around so she was laying on top of his chest. The kiss seemed endless and every time it felt like it ended, he would kiss her again some longer some shorter. Her hands slid up and down his blazer, stopping at the top so she could pull it off him and throw it somewhere in the living room.

As his hands climbed up her torso, reaching the bottom of her sweatshirt until the lift binged. Y/N’s heart stopped as she pushed him off her, eyes widening as she saw Gwen walk into the entrance followed by her newer bed acquisition. The heiress paid barely any attention to the two of them, instead grabbing her bag from the hook. 

     - Try to be back by 5, we have that cabaret meeting, remember? - Sebastian spoke up before Gwen could return to the lift. 

     - I’ve already told you that I won’t be caught dead in a cabaret. - she rolled her eyes, lowering her dark sunglasses to the bridge of her nose. - Ask Y/N to go, she probably has nothing to do. 

     - It’s not Y/N’s job to ...

     - It’s okay. - Y/N softly placed her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, trying to diffuse the fight that was surely about to begin if he decided to speak back to Gwen. She guessed he didn’t know to what extent she always got what she wanted and so, she thought that maybe her long and thorough knowledge in avoiding blow outs with Gwen could help him. However, Sebastian calmed down due to her soft touch and not because she decided to avoid a fight. She seemed to have that effect on him. - I’ll just fill in for Gwen, I have the free night. 

    - Are we done? - she whined like a five year old before jumping back into the lift once Sebastian dismissed the situation. Once the lift doors closed and the arrows above blinked the down, Sebastian wrapped his hands around Y/N’s waist effectively pulling her from the couch onto his lap. 

    - Where were we? - he questioned, pushing the hair away from her face that had inevitably moved out of place during the heavy make out. Her cheeks heated up as she moved her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling the smell of bergamot and pepper of his cologne. Sebastian always seemed to smell good in an intoxicating way that made her want to wrap her whole being around the scent. - Cuddling works too. 

   - We can’t do this. You know we can’t do this. - there was really not much force or containment left in Y/N and characters she used to loathe for their infidelity suddenly became sympathetic in her mind. Suddenly Y/N understood Anna, Cecilia, Constance and their passions for it seemed that once your heart made a decision, your mind couldn’t really argue it. So there she was now, out of arguments, out of reasons not to be in his arms, wrapped in his aura. She had lost all the reasons. Why should she be allowed to give into her passions when Gwen herself constantly did despite her impending marriage? Why should Y/N always be in the right? Was there even something known as right or wrong or was everything shades of greyness? - One of us must have self control.

  - Well, angel ... I hope you’re not expecting me to be the prudent one because I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. - Y/N pulled slightly back to look at his eyes. Eyes couldn’t lie as they were the window to the soul and the soul is too pure to be filled with lies. His eyes were softened, looking at her as if he had stated the most mundane fact in the whole entire universe, as if he had told her it was rainy outside, no big deal. - Besides, what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. 

   - Maybe you’re right. Maybe we ...

   - Mr Stan? - they were removed off their daizy daydream by a voice getting closer and closer. Yet, this time, none of them were fast enough or caring enough to separate from each other and as such Amelia walked in to her employer sat against the couch with one of his employees on his lap. Y/N cowered under her gaze, swearing mentally as Sebastian got up. - Your one o’clock meeting is here. 

   - Thank you, Amelia. - he cleared his throat before turning his head ever so slightly to look at Y/N. - I’ll see you tonight, angel. 

The handmaid nodded, bitting her lip as he left before her gaze shifted to Amelia who had a slightly hidden grin in her face, something she couldn’t exactly read. Was she gonna tell Gwen about the situation she had found? Was she gonna lecture her that the position was not something she should’ve been in with a married man? 

   - I must say, Miss Y/N, you’re quite the little box of surprises. 

   - Please don’t tell Gwen. - she rushed after her into the kitchen. - I know it’s wrong but I ... I really tried. 

   - Miss Y/N, it’s not up to me to judge your choices. Besides, I’ve always thought Mr. Stan needed a softer influence to get away from whatever manners his father taught him. 

   - But it’s wrong ... I’m such a bad person. - Y/N plopped down on one of the high chairs. - How would Gwen feel if she knew?

   - Well, how would you feel if it was someone else he was engaged to and not Miss Gwen? - Y/N rubbed her neck at the question. Was she only feeling bad because she knew Gwen ever since they were children? Would she have jumped into the affair without a thought? Was she that bad of a person. - People aren’t good or bad, Miss Y/N. No one is purely good and no one is purely bad.

   - I can’t explain an affair. Why would I do this? Her family raised me and could possibly kill me. How do I thank them? I kiss her husband to be in her home. Oh god, I’m a home wrecker ...

   - Now, now, Miss Y/N. You can’t be a home wrecker if those two never really wanted to be in a relationship. You can’t destroy something that isn’t there. 

Even with that Y/N spent the rest of the day wallowing in pity over feeling rather attracted to the mob boss. How could she not feel attracted to him? Not only did he appeal to her most primitive part but also to her modern side. Being next to him meant she was constantly protected, if no one dared to shot at him no one would shot at her. On the other side, he was absolutely stunning, well built and probably the nicest man she had ever met. True, she didn’t exactly know his mob persona but she didn’t exactly knew most of other mobsters business persona. 

She tried to busy her mind by considering what to wear to a cabaret. In the first place, she didn’t even knew that cabarets existed anymore and the only place she had ever heard about a cabaret had been the musical cabaret. What did people even wore to a cabaret? With that thought in mind she opened her wardrobe looked at the various dresses Gwen had handed out to her over the years. What was suitable to wear in a cabaret even? Did you dress like if you went to a nightclub? Maybe she should dress classically. Classic dresses were the most she had on her wardrobe due to Gwen having quite a few for cocktail parties and other high class gatherings but Y/N had always had a favourite one. It was an Elia Saab dress Gwen had gotten from one of her father’s associates. It was made of a short white sheer fabric which had been embroided with white flowers. It had always been one of Y/N’s favourites growing up as it reminded her of something a princess would wear, it was magical.

She grabbed the hanger of her wardrobe, pacing over to the bigger mirror with it. Once her reflection was seen in the mirror, she placed the hanger over her shoulder, playing with the fabric as she watched it in the mirror. It looked beautiful and the mere sight of it made her forget she was about to attend a business event with the man she was absolutely smitten with.

The time seemed to speed up faster and faster as Y/N gotten ready and before she knew it, it was time to go to the cabaret. Did she know what to expect? No. Was she nervous? Yes, but not entirely for the reason you’d expect her to be. She closed the door of her bedroom, face turned to the door.

   - You better not be trying to run away. - she moved her gaze from the door, noticing Sebastian at the end of the hallway. - Because it would be a pity not to show up to that meeting without such a little pretty thing like you on my arm. 

   - Am I your accessory now? 

   - Angel, anyone standing next to your is the accessory, not the other way around.

Sebastian had always believed Y/N was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever come to see in his whole life but the dress and jewellery always took her to a level that the mob boss didn’t think humanly possible. If he said he wasn’t rather prideful of parading her around as they walked into one of the cabarets he’d inherit from his father, he’d be lying. She still did not understand why out of all places he and his associates decided to have a meeting in a cabaret.

She was quickly introduced to most people before being sat by Sebastian’s left, a place that was usually reserved for either the wife or partner of a mob boss. Y/N had been used to setting the table back at the Forrests and that was something that had gotten engrained in her mind as Mr. Forrest took it particularly personal on keeping sitting etiquette. She wondered if Sebastian cared about it. Y/N soon realised that the meeting was about to become private as some of the associates got up. 

  - Stay here. - he mumbled against her ear. - I better not hear about you wandering around. 

  - Or what? - Sebastian was a controlling man and he was certain that Y/N’s natural born curiosity was something hard to keep in control. However, this was a mob spot and he didn’t want her wandering around. 

  - I’ll spank you, angel.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld​ @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying

[prosciuttulipa]

May I request h/c's for La Squadra (individually) getting hit with an aging stand ability which turns them into a child for a few days and s/o (g/n) has to take care of them until they're back to normal? Thank you for your time. Also love your work òwó -⌖

Hello, anon hon! Of course you may! And ahh, I’m so glad you like my work! Thank you for reading it! This is my first headcanon piece for the whole La Squadra gang —  it is quite long, so I might make them shorter in the future (unless you all like these lengths)! 

I also haven’t included Sorbet and Gelato, but if you’d like them added to the list, I’ll write something for them as well! 

The Aging Stand works as such: La Squadra is able to recognize their S/O as someone they’re safe with, but they don’t remember that they’re their S/O, or that they were even adults. However, once they turn back, they have memories of the time they were affected by the Stand. 

Headcanons: La Squadra turns into a child, with Gender Neutral!S/O taking care of them

Risotto:

You almost don’t recognize Risotto as a child — his trademark black scleras, red irises and silver hair are nowhere to be seen. Instead, you find yourself face to face with a kid with light blonde hair - so light it almost looks silver - and the most gorgeous green eyes. 

(You find out when he’s turned back that obtaining his Stand had affected his looks, hence the appearance you were accustomed to. But you can’t help but think that Risotto as a child looks almost...pretty.)

Risotto is a quiet kid, but you get the feeling it’s more out of choice than a duty; his silence as a child isn’t accompanied by the heaviness you feel from him as an adult. In fact, you find that he actually talks and smiles a lot more than you’re used to, voice quiet but emotive; he seems really happy to have someone to chat with. 

Is also a rather helpful and (surprisingly) clingy kid — he likes following you around and observing what you’re doing, handing you tools or items before you even ask for them. What he really wants is to join in on your activities, but he won’t initiate it. You can tell by the way he rocks on his heels that he wants something though, and when you ask if he wants to help with whatever you’re doing, he’s rushing over in a heartbeat, excited. 

When he turns back into an adult, Risotto thanks you for being so kind to him: it’d been a while since he felt that free, and it felt good to be taken care of, for once. He gives you a long kiss, before letting you know with a murmur that you’d make a great parent, and if you weren’t opposed to it, he’d love the idea of starting a family with you someday...

Prosciutto:

Even as a child, you recognize Prosciutto immediately: he’s practically a mini version of his adult self, with his hair neatly slicked back, wearing a button-up and some black pants. His glare is the same too, though you can’t help but think that it doesn’t pack the same punch — he looks more pouty than threatening!

Prosciutto is a very standoffish, but good kid. He’s very obedient and doesn’t make a lot of fuss, but there’s something quite robotic with his ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s. He also seems unaccustomed to having someone else around, often doing activities on his own; when you ask him if you can join him, he looks surprised, but he lets you (and maybe perks up slightly at the company). 

Child Prosciutto is also used to doing the chores. You’ve found him loading laundry into the washing machine, and after meals he goes to wash the dishes, standing on a little stool to reach the sink. It’s very impressive that he knows how to do all of this, but you can’t help but feel a bit concerned — someone had clearly taught Prosciutto to fend for himself at a very young age...what sort of background did he grow up in? 

You get your answer after a while. Prosciutto hadn’t expressed any wants, so you ask him whether there’s anything he’d like. What comes next is heartbreaking: “...I want Madre and Padre to spend more time with me. But I know they can’t, so as long as they come back home safe, I don’t want anything else.” 

You make a vow right then and there to make sure he feels safe and cared for; a child shouldn’t have to worry about issues like that, and the fact that Prosciutto does makes your chest ache. So whether it’s keeping him company or showering him with gifts and treats, you do your best to provide Prosciutto with a comfortable place. When he changes back into an adult, you’re hugging him tightly, promising him that you won’t ever leave him alone. He’s silent, but by his firm grip on you, you can tell he appreciates it.

Melone: 

Melone is a pretty child: his hair is blonde (not lavender, as it hasn’t been dyed yet) but just as long and silky smooth, and you’re able to get a clear view of beautiful blue eyes without his mask. He still favours swooping his hair to one side, though. You initially think there’s a deeper reason for it, but it just seems that he likes how it frames his face.

A very curious and smart kid, Melone isn’t shy about sharing his ideas and knowledge, loving to hear yours as well! Discussions and asking questions are favourite pastimes of his. You notice that Melone has a routine in initiating them: he tugs at your hand insistently, before starting with a “Do you know that…” It’s quite endearing! 

With that, Melone also enjoys reading, a common occurrence to see him poring over a book he’s picked off the bookshelf; you can’t help but smile when you see that they’re all biology books too (ah, that’s where Baby Face is from). You’ll often find Melone padding up to you, asking if you could explain what a particular word or diagram means. However, he gets most excited when you read a book to him, snuggling into your lap and listening with rapt attention.

He’s a bit of a fashionista as well! While nowhere near the eccentric tastes he has as an adult, Melone does enjoy experimenting with his clothing, tying and looping fabric to create new outfits for himself! He also enjoys ‘making’ clothes for you, clipping and knotting blankets together to create some avant-garde looks! They’re surprisingly good!

Once Melone turns back, he’s got baby fever, immediately. He remembers how kind and caring you were while you were taking care of his child self, and he’ll gush about how gorgeous you’d look while taking care of children you two could call your own. And if you think that that’s all you’re going to get away with, you’re sorely mistaken...you’ve gotten him all hot and bothered thinking about parenthood and babies, and you’re going to have to help relieve him. 

Ghiaccio:

Like Risotto, Ghiaccio’s appearance as an adult is a result of his Stand (which he hadn’t yet obtained as a child). While you recognize him from his red glasses and angry glare, his hair throws you for a loop: it’s ginger in colour, in a shade that’s as fiery as his temper. Although his hair isn’t flattened into the style that you’re used to seeing, it seems to have a natural curl and spring to it; you find yourself ruffling his hair a lot...it’s just so nice to touch! 

And speaking of tempers...you find that Ghiaccio is just as loud and agitated as ever, perhaps even more so (hell hath no fury as a small child scorned). But he doesn’t have petty tantrums — more so that he gets worked up very easily and hence ends up yelling. When angry, the noise isn’t nice to deal with, but if the yelling is because he’s getting excited about something he likes, it’s quite endearing. You can’t help but want to cheer along with him! 

Nevertheless, constant screaming is never good for anyone, and Ghiaccio needs to be calmed down —  luckily enough, you have plenty of experience doing that. You remind him to use his inside voice, giving him space and time to wind down. He mumbles to you one day that he appreciates how you don’t scold him when he gets loud: he can’t help but hit MAX VOLUME when getting worked up, and he’s glad that you understand he’s not trying to be a nuisance. 

When more level-headed, Ghiaccio proves himself to be a very bright and confident child, with a penchant for languages! He’s a quick learner, and if you speak more than one language, he wants you to teach him some phrases! He spends most of his time reviewing what he’s learned, and repeating it to you when he has the chance. And if you reward him with a hug or a ruffle to his hair...well, you’ll find that Ghiaccio gets quite affectionate, making sure he does a perfect job to earn another gentle pat!  

Once he turns back, Ghiaccio is completely embarrassed, barely able to get the ‘thank you’ out of him. But before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you into a tight hug, grumbling about how he hasn’t been able to hold you and needs to make up for the lost time. 

Formaggio:

As a child, Formaggio doesn’t look all that much different from his adult self. He has the same flashy hairstyle and street style clothes, but he’s got a bit of a babyface —  you can tell he’d really grown into his features as he got older! Nonetheless, those cheeks of his are perfect for squishing, something you find yourself indulging in as you take care of him. 

Formaggio is quite a normal child: his biggest worry is how to get out of trouble, and he always has a shit-eating grin on his face. As assassins, Formaggio hadn’t said anything about his background for safety reasons, but his child self tells you all kinds of information: that he’s grown up in a big family, that he plays with stray animals that come to his door, that he looks up to his big brother and papa. You hang on to his every word, happy to learn a bit more about him. 

Is the Ultimate Clapback Extraordinaire™. If you think this child can’t talk smack, then you are sorely mistaken. He is ruthless with his comebacks, but you can’t help loving this rowdy side of him, especially when it’s not directed towards you —  Prosciutto comes in one day to check up on the two of you, and you can barely hold your laughter as Formaggio absolutely demolishes the man with his wits. 

He also loves making you laugh! His speciality is impressions and slapstick comedy, with him calling out to you before pulling a face, or a silly magic trick. It’s his way of making sure you’re alright: you find yourself stressed one day (taking care of your boyfriend who is now a child does a number on your mental health) and before you know it, you’re doubling over in laughter at Formaggio’s antics, worries far away from you.

When he turns back into an adult, you teasingly complain that he was cuter as a child, but you both know you’re relieved things are back to normal. He sweeps you into his arms and peppers your face with kisses, promising with that same mischievous grin to treat you to a nice date as thanks for all you’ve done.

Illuso: 

It is honestly a bit terrifying how much Illuso looks the same as a child. His hair isn’t in multiple ponytails - he’s put it in one sleek ponytail instead - but he has the same smug expression you’re used to. His clothing isn’t as revealing though, which is a relief — he might get cold and sick if he’s not wearing enough. 

Do not attempt to play hide and seek with him; you should’ve known better than to trust that honey-sweet plea. Illuso is good at the game, and he knows it. The first (and last time) you play the game, you end up seeking Illuso for an entire day. The only way you’d found him was by calling out that dinner was ready, realizing with horror that he’d hidden in a high kitchen cabinet full of glassware (how on earth did he get up there). 

Disciplining Illuso is also a complete failure. It may be because you’re so soft with him (he is/was your boyfriend, after all), but you can’t say no when he starts to pout, batting his lashes at you in a way that’ll make any heart melt. And if that expression of his fails, he’ll tide you over with his words, mumbling out a ‘please forgive me’, tone apologetic and regretful. Yet as soon as you forgive him, he’s back to being catty and raising hell. 

But you can’t deny he’s sweet. You’re particularly tired one day, which Illuso picks up on. He’s uncharacteristically well behaved, occasionally appearing with little gifts and then disappearing without a sound; you receive some chocolate, a bunch of hand-picked flowers, and some hot water to calm your nerves. When he finally returns in the evening, explaining that he kept himself entertained so as to give you some space, you pull him into a gentle hug, laughing softly when you feel him pat your head. 

When Illuso turns back, the first thing he does is apologize for being such a handful of a child — there’s no denying that he was being a bit of a brat. Pressing a soft kiss to your neck and running his hands down your sides, he whispers into your ear that he’ll make it up to you with some sweet, sweet loving...it’s his turn to take care of you now. 

Pesci: 

Is the sweetest looking out of all of the La Squadra children: his hair is still styled like his adult self, and you can’t help but gush when you realize that he’s missing a front tooth! He tells you that he had lost it a few days ago, pointing to where the tiniest bit of adult tooth is starting to grow in. “I can’t wait till it comes in completely!”

Pesci is still just as shy and timid, though he gets less so the longer you spend time with him. Originally, he finds himself hiding behind large objects (it makes him feel safe), but once you start to get him out of his shell, he slowly drops the habit, coming up and snuggling up to you instead! He’s quite the cuddle bug once he’s comfortable with you!

Your praise is also something that makes him incredibly happy! The first time you say, “You did great Pesci!”, he flushes and gets all cute, stuttering out a thank you before hiding his face. But there’s no doubt that he likes it, so you don’t hold back on the compliments. Eventually, the praise makes Pesci feel more confident in himself — if you believe he can do something, then he’s going to give it the best shot he has!  

Mention anything related to the ocean, and Pesci will lose his mind. You’d decided to bring back a children’s book about sea animals one day, and when you offered it to Pesci, the boy was jumping up and down in excitement, squeaking out a ‘thank you’ before flipping through the pages. The book never leaves his side, and he’s read it so many times, he can tell you the names of all the different sea animals! His favourite one is the clownfish: he thinks it’s so cool that they don’t get stung by sea anemone! 

Once Pesci turns back into an adult, he’s hugging you tightly, stuttering out his thanks for being so nice with his child self. He never tells you, but he ends up keeping the sea animals book you bought for him; it’s a personal reminder of how much you love him, and maybe one day, he’ll be able to hear you read that book to you two’s future children...

[batfamilysays]

NUMBER NEIGHBOR

in which damian wayne meets his number neighbor

old draft of oc x damian

wc: 3468

GOTHAM CITY

TINSLEY'S APARTMENT 

06:32 PM

Friday comes too quickly and Damian is nowhere near ready.

His lips are still busted open from the preceding evening’s scouting and his hairs grown out far too long, hanging in tufts right below his brow and curling the daintiest bit in a mess of matte black. Small dark rings kiss his tanned skin and tug at the lids of his jade eyes, dulling the color every so slightly to a muted green.

Nothing is right.

Every article of clothing in his wardrobe suddenly seems inadequate for meeting the girl he has been anxiously anticipating ever since he sent the text. He’d probably still be trying to decide on what garment to wear had it not been for Jason chucking a pair of jeans at him and telling him to leave.

Damian isn't dense, he recognizes he's quite aloof at first, he knows his demeanor is unsettling, so as he stood in front of her apartment complex, arm raising to knock, his mind begins to wander.

Was this worth it?

Was the prospect of her getting hurt enough to make Damian turn around, could that ever-growing cavity in his stomach be filled by someone else’s presence? Someone, he doesn’t care about half as much as Tinsley? Someone who didn’t fill it with maddening butterflies and a troublesome warmth. Or could perhaps Damian be allowed this? Allowed this small wedge of pleasure in a world that seemed to grant him nothing but iniquity and desolation?

Fortunately for everyone involved, he didn’t have time to decide for himself as the door swung open and a pair of arms encased his torso with enough force he stumbled back against the hallway’s stained walls and knocked his head against the plaster with a disquieting thud!

An instinct burned into him since childhood shouts, screams at him to push whomever this was away, and retaliate with tenfold that amount of brutality. Yet somehow he can’t quite hear outcries, they seem muffled against the vanilla and honey redolence that embraces him, filling that basin in his stomach to the brink with warm marmalade and crystalized sugar.

“Damian!” such a faint voice whispers, so soft the Wayne almost doesn’t catch it over his shooting heart at the close proximity with the girl he was only just now identifying as Tinsley Nolans, his number neighbor, ‘“Oh my god this is such a surreal experience.”

Hesitantly Damian returns the embrace, his hands engulf the shorter woman in his arms and the scent of her fragaria shampoo and conditioner saturating his senses in a wonderful mellow mix. Her hair blinds him and Tinsley couldn’t help but notice how delicately he was touching her, it was as though she was glass and he was a man destined to shatter it.

It was as though the lion had fallen in love with the lamb.

“You smell really good.” Damian says through a sigh, only belatedly realizing just how awkward that was after the words leave his throat, “Oh my god that sounds so creepy I didn’t mean it-”

“You smell really good too,” It wasn’t what Tinsley had planned to say but if it would make Damian less uncomfortable she was okay with scraping her original sappy speech - besides he really does smell good, “Like mint and smog.”

He knows the smokey fragrance is from the gas bomb he had used the night prior on a few of the riddler’s henchmen, but Damian lets that thought drift peacefully from his head as her hands began playing with the fabric of his shirt, her lips moving in small puffs as she says, “It’s really crazy to see you, it’s like I’m meeting my best friend for the first time.”

The reply he goes with is cheesy, but he can’t find it in himself to care, “I am seeing my best friend for the first time.”

Drawing away with a grin Damian allows himself this one self-indulgent act, allows himself to drink in the slightly shorter girl in front of him, her sandals adding at least an inch in height with their white chunky heels and strappy bases. Tinsley’s hair was laying in long strands across her shoulders, each perfectly curling at the end and crooking up at the base of her neck. A flannel was thrown indolently around her shoulders to add a bit of warmth to the grey cropped shirt and ripped black jeans and Damian couldn’t help but inhale at the peaks of bronzed skin that appeared with every movement she made.

Shaking his head Damian attempts to refocus on her smirking face, a smug look gliding across her eyes like koi fish swimming their deft routine. With the quick realization, he hasn’t said anything for a good two minutes, Damian quickly spouts out, “You look um-nice Ley,”

“You don’t look too bad yourself edgelord,” She adds a playful wink and loops their arms together with comfortable ease, almost as though she knows that’s how they’re meant to be, connected, “C’mon let’s go I’m dying for taco bell,”

Damian, without reluctance, permits his body to decompress, the tension and nerves seeping out with every warm glance she offered and the soft touch of her skin against his flesh, “I don’t know how you can stomach that garbage,”

“Tsk. Such a rich boy thing to say,” Stopping briefly to pop her head inside the flat Tinsley yells, “See you tonight!” To her mother - who roars a warning to Damian - and resumes dragging the much larger man down the corridor with her.

“I’d be careful with what you say, I’m the one with a license after all,” Damian simpers and extracts the keys from his pocket, wagging them in front of Tinsley face teasingly, satisfied with himself as she lets out a childish huff and pouts in a fashion he finds sinfully adorable.

“I regret telling you that wholeheartedly, besides I’ve got my redo in two weeks soo I’ll be the one driving you places, “ Tinsley snatches the keys from his arm and dashes down the hall, only turning back around for a second to stick out her tongue and wink, emitting a boisterous, “Race ya!”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Damian pursues her, knowing full well he can catch up to her with ease if he so chooses to.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he watches from behind as Tinsley twirls and titters as if a ballerina executing a routine only she knows of. Damian wasn’t religious by any means, but this - this was something eternal, something sacred. That carefree expression etched into her face as she reaches the end of the hall, those teasing insults she spews at him while walking to the elevator, the warmth of her skin against his own as she places the keys in his hands and climbs into the passenger side of the car.

It prompted a feeling to froth in Damian’s chest, a feeling he never wanted to be rid of, a feeling that made the pit in his stomach seem not so deafening after all.

GOTHAM CITY WAYNE MANOR 07:02 PM

Driving back to the manor was an experience - to say the least, and Damian found himself learning a few different things. 

Firstly, She was a wretched singer, throughout the complete car ride her bellows of off-key glee songs left Damian to regret not insisting control of the aux. 

Secondly, She really was awful on the road, she screamed every time the car went over train tracks and went on and on about being crushed by two trucks and becoming a truck sandwich if Damian ever got too close to other cars.

Lastly, Damian is absolutely smitten with her.

The sky had turned frigid in the half an hour it took to arrive at the manor, it lays across them like a white blanket of frost and punctuates each of their breaths with puffs of grey- something Tinsley took benefit of when doing her red hood impression with the mock smoke of a cigarette. 

Damian walks up to the house, his hand interlocked with Tinsley’s for what he would never admit to being for anything other than warmth. 

The manor really is quite fantastical, with noble pedestals of brown and beige driving up to the roof, complex patterns incised into the granite walls and alabaster steps, each window a darkened hue that makes them seem all the more ambiguous than Tinsley already thought them to be. 

A key is fitted into the cold doorknob and Tinsley smiles as Damian yanks her inside, a small yelp leaving her lips as he does so with a probably unnecessary amount of force. Though, in his defense, he didn’t want to waste any time that could be spent inside with her instead of in the freezing night.

“I cannot believe you live here…” Tinsley allows herself to drink in the magnificent interior design, her heart swelling when she directs her gaze back at Damian, whose own eyes have been locked on her the whole time, the same expression coating his eyes when looking at her that she had looking at the structure, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Damian swears his heart skips a beat, and so he rather than confront the emotions and pressure fabricating in his gut he releases her hand and walks over to the couch, his back turned to the dejected expression Tinsley holds.

“Soooooo,” Tinsley trails off and plops onto the almost comically large couch, the pearly white cushion sinking under her weight and fluffing out around her head, “I’m still a firm believe we should order Taco bell and watch Twilight.”

Setting next to her Damian kicks off his converse, facing her with one eyebrow raised, “Ah yes cause I’m a well-known vampire fanatic.”

Tinsley sits up and punches his shoulder without any malice, her fist barely being felt through Damian’s thick jacket, “Ya know what buckeroo it’s good! Yeah, the acting is less than subpar but the story arc is great!”

With a swift flick of his wrists, he grabs her hands in his own, “Doesn’t an 18-year-old end up with a literal fetus?” 

Though Damian may not have been the biggest movie watcher he had read his fair share of cheesy romance novels - for research purposes of course - and twilight was most certainly included in that list.

“That’s not canon!” She argues, twisting so she was on top of him, arms still pinned to his.

“Didn’t the author write it?” Damian easily flips them a second time, the urge to be tender overwhelming despite the usual harshness in his fighting. But this wasn’t a fight - not really - and he needed to get used to that. Because with Tinsley it never would be a fight. 

Scrunching her eyebrows together in thought Tinsley groans, pouting out her bottom lip as her list of arguments ran out, so instead a simple “Shuddup!” would have to suffice. 

It was only then did Damian realize the position they were in. Tinsley pinned under him, her brown hair a makeshift halo under the fluorescent yellow lights and casting a yellow glow to her face, which almost seems to radiate pure rapture as she beams at him, such heat and affection it makes Damian want to cry. 

He’s a murder. And murders don’t deserve this. No matter how much he wants too. 

Getting up Damian turns his attention back to the screen, face heating up as he flicks the screen on, “So what do you want to watch?

GOTHAM CITY

CITY ROOFTOPS

12:57

Wind ruffles through his matte black hair and the cold brings his jade eyes to tears, the stinging of wetness against his eyelids burning like chlorine and sunscreen on a blistering summer’s day. Everything seems to anger him nowadays, the way the sun sets far too late on the horizon, how it barely caresses the moon and instead engulfs it, not a bit of fragility in the proficient routine they continuously dance. Even his telephone appears to be in opposition with him, invariably buzzing to life with sweet texts from the one person he refuses to be in contact with but so desperately desires to. 

Perhaps he was a bad person, Damian, had mulled over this thought all of last night, the words replaying in his head until they didn’t taste correct on his tongue or sound right for his ears. They reappear at the forefront now, when he is dawned in his vigilante attire and perched on Tinsley’s rooftop with the claim to be patrolling for crime when everyone knows that was most certainly not the reason for him being there. 

Seven Days. For seven days Damian has ignored every one of Tinsley’s persistent calls and texts, the fear of falling too deep for a girl who could most certainly do better than him devouring every bit of his soul. Eventually, the calls had trickled out and the texts became sparse until she finally cut him off altogether. He wanted to blame Tinsley at first, wanted so badly to make their devastating separation her fault when in actuality it was all Damian.

He had been the one terrified of getting hurt. He was the one who was scared she’d leave him. He was the one who knew she could do better. He was the one everyone abandoned. He was the one no one wanted. He was the one who had fallen in love with a girl on the internet. 

Everyone had tried to help in their own ways, Bruce had tried for days to figure out what was wrong, even threatening to take him off duty if he didn’t tell him. Dick had taken him out for ice cream in the hopes of cheering him up. Jason took Damian to shoot things, Duke spared with him to let him relieve stress, Stephanie had bought him cat toys for Alfred, Barbra had gotten him a fresh set of katanas, and Tim had sat down and just talked with him. In a way Damian couldn’t explain, this warmed his heart and filled the bits and crevices of the basin in this stomach (Especially Tim who - in a weird way -  Damian was closest to)

None of the attempted persuasions worked though and eventually, Damian stopped checking the messages and the hole in his chest expanded tenfold, so large and opaque he was fearful it would swallow him whole if he didn’t find something to fill it, this would likely prove to be challenging seeing as though only two people had ever been able to completely fill the irksome hole.

His mother was the first and most prominent, but after using him for years she threw him out, discarding the son to his father after training him to kill and feel nothing but a wave of numbness. After training him to be a monster. His father hadn’t wanted him at first, he was the product of manipulation and abuse, why would anyone want that? But Bruce had to take him, despite his original wishes, and even if Dick assured Damian that Bruce did love him the youngest Wayne couldn’t find it in himself to believe that.

Tinsley Elowen Nolans was the second. But now that she was gone Damian felt as though the hole had grown in size, the only parts in him unconsumed by the darkness where the spots reserved for his family. He knew that if he had simply allowed himself to open up to Tim, Dick, Jason, even Duke that they could possibly fill the cavity. But he didn’t want their warmth. He wanted hers.

Except he couldn’t have hers. 

He watches silently as Tinsley walks up to the building, fiddling with her yellow keychain to find the correct one to unlock the apartment complex doors. This was the usual routine she took, what wasn’t usual was what she does next. Damian quirks a brow under his mask as she takes out her phone and types a quick message, only understanding when his phone beeps with a message

TINSLEY

i miss you.

He shouldn’t have checked his phone, not when Tinsley was collapsing to the ground with quiet sobs escaping her lips. Her hair had been thrown into a lopsided ponytail and her mascara was starting to smear down her face with every trail of snot and whimper of inner torment. Damian wanted nothing more than to forget their fight, forget his stupidity, and jump down and make her forgive him, make her stop hurting, make her stop caring about him.

It was exceedingly critical for him to help her, comfort her. However, just as he goes to support her something pulls him back, maybe his insecurities, maybe the knowledge he was still in his uniform. Or maybe a sympathetic group of orphans who look at him with too much pity. 

With a scowl Damian shakes Dick’s grip off his shoulder, turning towards them with harsh eyes, blinking away the small tears that had managed to form in his irises. A disgruntled cough leaves his throat and he adjusts the black fabric of his mask to cover his bleary eyes, “Tsk. What is it? Don’t you all have neighborhoods to patrol?” 

“Bruce - I mean Batman,” Stephanie corrects after a glare from Cassandra, “Told us you refused to patrol any town but this one and

it seemed suspicious so Tim and I looked into it and that building,” She juts out a thumb to the sobbing girl and blue apartment complex, “Is not-so-coincidentally the same place Tinsley lives.”

Huffing Damian crosses his arms, “You’re right, it is a coincidence. Now shouldn’t you be swapping spit with that ugly bastard,” despite the words he isn’t trying to be malicious - he was just genuinely upset with the situation he has found himself in and is lashing out in the only way he knows how. (Okay and maybe he said it a bit to be mean)

“Robin we just want to help,” Barbra tries, dawned in her Batgirl suit, “With everything that’s gone down we don’t think it’s healthy for you to be ‘patrolling’ here. You’ll never be able to move on from Tinsley if you’re constantly seeing her.”

“Oh please he isn’t trying to move on, he’s trying to get her back.” Jason cuts in, rolling his eyes and clicking a finger against his red helmet, “Which is the right thing to do considering she made him less … well ... him”

“Red hood don’t be mean,” Dick scolds, a pitiful smile on his lips as he turns to Damian and engulfs him in a forced hug, “Whatever you need we’re here for you little D.”

“I need you all to leave me alone!”

Tim steps forward and pries Dick off of Damian, mumbling a barely audible, “He doesn’t want a hug, you’re making him uncomfortable” before turning his attention back to Damian, “Okay well anything except that.” 

“Robin, what happened between you two anyway?” Cassandra finally asks, easing the question on everyone's mind with a few words, “You seemed so ... I don't know … happy? Though I have to admit I’m slightly relieved you aren’t gushing over your phone during training sessions anymore.”

“Black Bat, you straight up skip training sessions what the fuck are you on about?” Duke’s eyes go wide as Cassandra throws a knife at him, his hand shooting up and catching it with ease, “Okay damn girl.”

Cassandra snatches her knife back and throws a glare at the yellow-suited man, “Watch it Signal.” 

“Can we please get back to Robin and his saga of love?”

Damian can’t help it, the tears push heavily against his eyes and finally break free from the trap of his green irises, small uneven blobs of wetness trailing down his face and plopping onto the ground with a deafening noise. It wasn’t that loud, but Damian's fuzzy head and fast-beating heart augment the noise tenfold.

Everyone goes silent, possibly from a shortage of anything to say, or perhaps from seeing such a austere boy collapse down into pitful bewailings in front of them. His legs buckle and the dark haired man fallsl to his knees, arm covering his face in pure agony as every text he ever sent replays in his mind, a broken record forcing him to relive what he’s done.

So much pain he doesn’t notice the same rag tag group of orphans engulfing him in a hug

TAGLIST !!!

@pretendthisusernameisgoodd @dickgraysonhasanicebutt @multiverseofwonders @emmaleilani96 @mcgonagalls-witches @pleasestophoney @kurosstuff @liltleaderofthelameones @water248 @blackrippedskinnybeans @evalynanne

[flipomatic]

Just Out of Reach

Author Note: This is my first fic for this fandom and for this ship, so I’m working on getting a feel for these characters. This fic references the events of the valentines day event and the white day area conversation between Aoi and Tsubaki.

Summary: Tsubaki just watched as the pair stopped. The woman pulled a piece of folded paper out of her bag, it looked to be an envelope of some kind, and presented it to Aoi with both hands. Even from this distance, Tsubaki could see that Aoi’s face had flushed scarlet.

So that’s what this was, a love confession.

Tsubaki’s stomach churned as Aoi reached forward and, with hands wearing the gloves Tsubaki had given her, accepted the envelope.

Word Count: 2200

___________________________________________________________

As Tsubaki stepped out of the building, the cold air pricked at her skin. Though it was late March, there were still some colder days. Today was one of those days. Tsubaki tightened her muffler around her neck, the one Aoi had given her just over a week earlier. Just remembering their exchange warmed her cheeks.

Behind her, the rest of her unit was leaving as well. They had met today to work on a new song, which they were set to start performing next week. They practiced at the club while it was closed, since their performances were on that stage. After rehearsing, they decided to go to the café to have an afternoon snack and talk about the new song.

Hiiro was dressed for the weather, with a stylish grey coat that reached her knees. It was almost too warm for such a heavy coat, but Hiiro didn’t seem to mind. Nagisa was her exact opposite, insisting that it was spring so she didn’t need a jacket. Instead, her arms were exposed by a short-sleeved t-shirt. Every time the wind blew past, she shivered slightly. She clutched her guitar tightly in her right hand since she didn’t leave it at the venue.

Aoi was balanced somewhere between them. She wore her usual open black jacket, with gloves to cope with the cold. They were the gloves Tsubaki had given her; seeing them almost made Tsubaki blush even harder.

The café was only a few blocks away, so they set off to walk together. Nagisa took the lead with a bounce in her step, likely to fight off the cold. Hiiro walked only half a step behind her, with Tsubaki and Aoi side by side in the rear. They passed a group of young women as they left the vicinity of the club.

“I’m absolutely starving!” Nagisa exclaimed, rubbing her free hand dramatically against her stomach.

Hiiro chuckled, “What are you going to eat?”

“Hmm…” Nagisa turned towards her, her hand now lifted to her chin as she thought. “Pancakes sound really good right now. A huge stack of them!”

“Didn’t you have lunch?” Tsubaki chimed in, wondering for perhaps the twentieth time how Nagisa could possibly eat so much. She was even shorter than Tsubaki.

“Of course.” Nagisa replied simply. “Or I’d definitely pass out.”

Aoi laughed, a sound that always sent Tsubaki’s heart racing. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Nagisa spun around to walk backward while she talked to them, launching into a story about a time when that had happened. It was when she was younger and forgot to bring a lunch to school. Nagisa was still telling the story, which was growing more animated by the second, when an unknown voice interrupted her.

“E-excuse me.” The voice, quiet and timid, came from behind them. Tsubaki stopped to look, as did the rest of the unit. A young woman was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Tsubaki recognized her as one of the girls they walked by a couple minutes ago. Long black hair covered part of her face, which was bright red. Her eyes were pointed down at the ground. “M-Miyake-san, do you have a minute to talk… in private?” She seemed to have trouble finding the right words.

Tsubaki wondered what this was about. She knew Aoi had a lot of fans, perhaps she wanted an autograph. That didn’t explain the clear embarrassment though. Tsubaki glanced over at Aoi, whose eyes were wide with surprise.

“I… If that’s alright with you?” Aoi looked between her unit members, stopping on Tsubaki last. Tsubaki tried to read her gaze, but wasn’t sure what she saw.

The darker part of Tsubaki’s heart, the part that growled when another girl so much as looked at Aoi, wanted to say no. She was with her unit right now, not free to talk. But no, Tsubaki knew that wasn’t right.

“We’ll wait here for you.” Tsubaki replied, trying to sound nonchalant about it. The way that Nagisa raised an eyebrow at her told her she had failed.

“Go ahead, we’re not in a hurry.” Hiiro insisted, gesturing towards the girl.

Aoi’s expression was still unreadable. “Thank you.” The side of her mouth lifted into a smile as she turned back to the girl. “After you.”

Tsubaki watched in silence as the two walked away. They went all the way down the sidewalk, where the other Rondo members wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop.

“Damn, I wanted to listen in.” Nagisa had one hand cupped around her ear.

Hiiro shook her head with a wry smile. “Aoi-kun will spot us if we move.”

Tsubaki just watched as the pair stopped. The woman pulled a piece of folded paper out of her bag, it looked to be an envelope of some kind, and presented it to Aoi with both hands. Even from this distance, Tsubaki could see that Aoi’s face had flushed scarlet.

So that’s what this was, a love confession.

Tsubaki’s stomach churned as Aoi reached forward and, with hands wearing the gloves Tsubaki had given her, accepted the envelope.

It wasn’t like Tsubaki didn’t know that Aoi was popular, or that a lot of people were interested in her. She knew all of that; she remembered the mountain of chocolate Aoi received for valentines day and the hordes of screaming fans.

That didn’t stop Tsubaki from feeling jealous, from wanting Aoi to pay attention to only her. She wanted to storm over there, tear that letter from Aoi’s grasp, and declare that she was hers.

Tsubaki wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t do that. Aoi wasn’t hers, no matter how badly she wanted her to be. She could only hope that Aoi returned her feelings, but Tsubaki was under no illusion that she did.

In the distance, Aoi opened the letter and started to read it.

Tsubaki couldn’t watch anymore. Even though she said it was alright, she couldn’t subject herself to this. She felt a surge of pain in her heart as she turned away, back in the direction they’d been walking. “Actually, I’ll pass on the café.” She said, causing both Hiiro and Nagisa to look at her instead of in the distance.

“Tsubaki?” Hiiro phrased her name as a question, asking so much without asking anything at all.

“I’ll see you around.” Tsubaki started walking away, not looking back even as Nagisa called out to her. Aoi was probably going to leave with that girl anyway, to cancel on the unit’s plans. Tsubaki told herself it was better like this.

She would go home. At home, she’d be alone. There was a pain in that, but also solace. She wouldn’t have to watch Aoi accept someone else’s love, wouldn’t have to be reminded about how she wasn’t enough.

___________________________________________________________

“I like you!” The young woman, who said her name was Nana, leaned forward and held an envelope out with both hands. “Please accept this!” There was a heart drawn on one side.

Aoi could hardly believe what was happening. First Nana had stopped her unit and asked to speak with her, now she was confessing her love. It felt surreal. Her face was hot, unbearably so; she felt like she was in shock. She had received confessions before, but she never felt ready for them.

Aoi slowly took the offered paper, opening the envelope carefully so she wouldn’t tear it. Inside was a single piece of folded paper. It contained a few paragraphs of text, which Aoi read quickly. They explained that Nana loved watching Aoi perform, heard she liked homemade food, and offered to cook for her. It finished with the confession Nana had just made.

Once she finished it, Aoi looked back up at Nana. She still looked nervous, as she had since the moment she approached the group. Both of her hands were clenched together in front of her body.

Aoi searched for the words to respond to her. She was cute, but Aoi didn’t really know her. It was great that she was a fan, but Aoi wasn’t prepared to return her feelings. There were other reasons too, Aoi thought as she looked at her gloves. The gloves Tsubaki gave her, which were a precious gift, a precious reminder.

Nana had her eyes locked on Aoi’s face, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. “Will you go out with me?” She asked an actual question now, one Aoi had to respond to.

Even though Aoi was certain in her answer, she still felt bad saying it. She didn’t like hurting others. “I’m sorry.” She offered the letter back to Nana, who immediately frowned. “I can’t return your feelings.”

Nana took the paper back gingerly, tears now welling up in the corner of her eyes. Aoi’s heart panged. “I understand…” She took a half step back and bowed forward, hiding her face. “Goodbye.” She turned quickly and walked away, back towards where her friends were likely waiting.

Aoi watched her for a few moments, before turning back to Rondo. Immediately, she noticed that something was wrong. The whole unit had been there before, but now she only saw Hiiro and Nagisa. Did Tsubaki go ahead without them?

The confession was already fading from Aoi’s mind as she hurried back to the group. “Sorry for the delay.” She said as she reached them. “Where’s Tsubaki?” She was worried, what if something bad had happened?

“She decided to go home.” Hiiro replied in a light tone that didn’t match the message.

That didn’t make sense; they were supposed to all go to the café together. “Huh? What do you mean?” Aoi furrowed her eyebrows together.

“She left, split, said farewell.” Nagisa counted off up to three on her fingers as she listed them. “Didn’t say why, probably cuz we got delayed.” She shrugged.

Aoi’s heart, which had already been in pain earlier, felt even worse now. It was her fault that Tsubaki left, that she wasn’t going to be with Rondo at the café. If they had just kept walking, then she would still be there.

“You could still catch her.” Hiiro pointed down the sidewalk, in the direction Tsubaki must’ve gone in. “She turned left two streets down.”

Yes, Aoi wanted to do just that. She quickly said, “Thanks!” and took off down the street at an accelerated walk.

“We’ll meet you there!” Nagisa’s voice echoed behind her.

As Aoi made the left turn, she recognized that she was now going towards Tsubaki’s house, which meant she really was headed towards home.

Aoi knew how to get there and what route Tsubaki would take.

Even as she walked quickly down the sidewalk, she wondered if she should turn back. It wasn’t like they couldn’t get a snack or talk about the song without Tsubaki, Aoi knew that they could. She also knew that she wanted Tsubaki to be there. It wasn’t Rondo without her, Aoi’s heart wouldn’t be complete without her.

There was a chance she’d say no, that she wouldn’t appreciate Aoi coming after her like this. That was a risk Aoi was willing to take. She’d been chasing after Tsubaki for so long; it wasn’t time to stop now.

After just a few minutes of walking, she saw a familiar sight in the distance. The muffler, the one Aoi had given to Tsubaki, was visible around her neck even at a long distance. Every time Tsubaki wore it, Aoi felt warm inside. She hoped it was keeping Tsubaki warm too.

“Tsubaki!” Aoi called out her name as she got closer, causing Tsubaki to spin around with wide eyes. She looked completely shocked to see Aoi behind her, following her. In the afternoon sunlight, she was stunning.

“Aoi?” She said in a confused tone. She took a small step towards Aoi as her eyes flicked from Aoi’s face down to her hands, and then back up.

“Please come to the café.” Aoi felt slightly out of breath, from practically jogging the last stretch. Her cheeks must’ve been flushed from exertion.

“Aren’t you busy now?” Tsubaki’s voice sounded strained, rougher than usual.

Aoi shook her head. “Just with my unit.” She said, reaching towards Tsubaki with one hand. “Please come, it wouldn’t be the same without you. I want you to be there.”

Tsubaki’s eyes widened even more, before tears welled up in the corner of them. Aoi hoped she hadn’t made a mistake, hadn’t stepped right over Tsubaki’s boundaries and was about to be rejected.

“I will.” Tsubaki wiped the corner of her eyes as she nodded.

A wave of relief rushed through Aoi’s chest. “Let’s go then.” They turned to go back the way they came, since the café was actually closer to the venue than where they were now.

Again Aoi and Tsubaki walked side by side, as they had done earlier.

Aoi stole a glance at Tsubaki as they walked, wondering what she was thinking. As she looked at the muffler around her neck, she wondered if Tsubaki knew how much she cared for her.

She wasn’t ready to take another step yet, but she hoped Tsubaki felt the same way.

[mossy-covered-bones]

The Abyss: Xanthar’s Tale

Part 5

(Introduction)—(Previous)—(Next)

You guys ready for some plot? Because there’s gonna be some plot.

:)

—

“So would you answer questions about your other friend as long as they’re not about whatever it is you’re hiding from me?” X asked, lying on their back in front of Asterisk’s mirror. Their hands were held in front of their face, them and the mirror lit by the soft glow of X’s lantern—now with new batteries.

Asterisk responded slowly, hesitantly. “I… do not see why not. What would you like to ask us?”

X squeezed *s eyes shut, thinking. “Do you have an idea of how long it’s been since they’ve visited you?”

“My sense of time is very unreliable—“

“Right, silver frame, it was a dumb question, sorry.”

Asterisk let out a low laugh. “It is unreliable, but I know they left for good before you set foot in this building.”

“Oh. So ten, eleven months at the very least?”

“Yes, if that is how long you have been here. Their visits slowed long before they left this place for good, however.”

X hummed to *self. “Why did they stop coming down here?”

“They got what they came to me for, there was no real reason for them to stay. They were never one for needless pleasantries.”

“Were they nice? Did you like talking with them?”

“We did enjoy their company, but I… would not call them nice. They were fairly brash, and crude, and impatient. But they were good company.”

X nodded, humming to *self. “Do you miss them?”

“I will once again remind you that we are not a social creature, and do not require companionship.”

“You don’t need to, to miss someone’s company.”

Asterisk blinked, glancing away for a moment. “I… suppose you are right. Perhaps I do miss them, in a sense. But I am happy for them. They have achieved the life they have always wanted, and it would be selfish of us to take that away from them in order to keep their company.”

“Did you help them get that? The… what did you call it, the life they always wanted?” X asked, hands folded over their stomach as they glanced over to the mirror.

Asterisk let out a low hum, contemplating its answer. Or just contemplating whether it wanted to tell (———).

The eyes bobbed in a nod. “Yes, yes we did.”

(———) sat at *s computer, scrolling through one of the advice blogs * found over the past few days, reading over the response to an ask * had sent.

They’d been mulling things over, the euphoria of shorter hair and slightly more androgynous clothing pushing (———) to try and find a word for how they felt. The odd feeling of gender they hadn’t even considered trying to pick apart until now.

They still weren’t sure yet, but… nonbinary seemed to fit. For now. (———) was still looking through terms, finding nonbinary people to follow, trying out pronouns. They didn’t want to rush anything, to throw themself in first to all the confusing terms and neopronouns, but… it was relieving, to find a term that fit them and that odd disconnect they’d always chalked up to a bad body image.

X had been spending more time on the internet than usual, the little niche of openly nonbinary people and those questioning their gender like them somewhat homey and reassuring, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Everyone was so welcoming and helpful with the questions X had, supplying them with terms to look into and things to consider while they puzzled themself out.

They really felt like they belonged with these people.

“Does your kind have, like… any concept of gender?”

Asterisk let out a low laugh. “No, I’m afraid that’s mostly a human concept. Some of our kind has attempted to describe themselves with your words, but they often fall short. One cannot capture the essence of self in just a few simple words. Why do you ask?”

“Well I…” X let out a huff, biting their lip. “How much do you know about western concepts of gender?”

“The vague idea, I suppose.”

X nodded. “So traditionally it’s male and female, most people stick with what they grew up being told they were. It’s, uh… there’s a small fraction of the population that… realized they’d rather be the other one? So if people thought they were a guy growing up, but they realized they were actually a girl.”

“Yes, being… trans? I have heard of that.”

“Okay…” They swallowed, wiping the sweat from their palms. “So most people think of gender as just being A or B, yeah? But some people don’t feel like they fit in just one of those boxes, they call themselves nonbinary. It’s another way of being trans, since they aren’t what people thought they were when they were born. They don’t… identify with the gender assigned to them at birth, that’s the official… uh… words for it.”

Asterisk blinked slowly. “That makes sense. I do not see why anyone would want to limit themselves to only two options.”

X let out a sigh of relief, sagging against the wall. “Yeah, me neither. I’m nonbinary, too. Figured that out recently.”

“Ah, I do believe we should be congratulating you for the discovery? Our previous visitor did not tell us about the proper etiquette for these situations.”

“Thanks, I—“ X paused. Blinked. “Your other friend told you about trans stuff?”

The eyes hovering in the mirror crinkled at the edges, almost like Asterisk was smiling. “Yes, they did. They told us they were trans.”

“You… what? So then why did they… you said… did you…” X frowned, squinting into the mirror. “Why are you smiling?”

“Tell me, X. Do you remember what I told you, the second time we met?”

X shook their head. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Just think. You were trying to guess what I was.”

“Is this about the Fae thing? If so I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad about it—“

“We do not require an apology for that, X. But yes, that is what I mean.”

X frowned again, but nodded. “Yeah, I kinda remember. What about it?”

“We said that they are not the only beings who deal in names, in identities.”

“Are you… implying that you do, too? Steal people’s names?” They raised a brow. “Why are you telling me this?”

Asterisk let out a slow, deep sigh. “It would probably make more sense if I told you more of the one that came before you.”

—

Tag list: @definitely-a-living-human @catdragonunicorn @genesiscaveat

[mahizli]

Odds And Numbers (Cody and Obi-Wan, 22 BBY)

Part 13 of ‘Sparks of Hope- A Star Wars Advent Calendar’.

***

Commander Cody did not believe in chance or fate. Those were for the dreamers, those General Kenobi called enthusiasts – people who believed there was a greater purpose in everything.

Cody had been taught that safety resided in numbers. In calculating the outcomes, studying the battlefield, placing the troopers carefully, according to their abilities.

And of course, his training on Kamino had also taught him that strength was achieved in brotherhood. Adhering to values like honour, loyalty and duty. Taking care of one’s vode, making sure they stayed focused, strong and reliable.

Cody did not believe in chance or fate – but General Kenobi believed in what the Jetii called the Force, and over those first months at his side, Cody had tempered some of his views with what the General called nuances.

His Jetii General believed in the Force, was able to feel it all around them and use it when he fought, spinning so fast the eye could not follow, deflecting blaster bolts almost before they were shot and leaping like he had wings. He was able to will the pain away, to heal light injuries and to stay without eating and drinking for days. But mostly, General Kenobi, like every other Jetii, was able to sense feelings and thoughts in the Force, to absorb or reflect them, and to read what he called signatures.

The first time they had met, Cody had stood to attention, back rigid and gaze straight, studying the Jetii who was to become his General – face seemingly blank while his mind assessed him.

Jetii General Obi-Wan Kenobi was slightly shorter than him, but not small. He was lean, but not frail, grave but not intimidating, yet Cody quickly calculated that with those linen tunics and thin trousers and layers of plain fabric, the Jetii wouldn’t stand a chance on the battlefield.

That was before he saw him in action, fighting and spinning before him like nothing Cody had ever witnessed before. General Kenobi was not one to linger behind, not one to leave wounded on the field either – and after that first battle together, where the Jetii’s tunic had soiled with dust and blood that was partly his own, both had struck what the General called a compromise.

Jetii General Obi-Wan Kenobi would be wearing a chest plate, pauldrons and vambraces, as well as blacks and boots, like a vode. But he would keep a Jetii tabard, and his Jetii belt, and stay without helmet or blaster – because he had his lightsaber.

Cody did not believe in chance, or wonder, but after two months at General Kenobi’s side, he had come to the conclusion that this Force the Jetii worshipped did not work randomly. It was something like tipping the odds, changing them to fate, then to facts once more. Or rather, making the odds clearer around them, allowing some trust to sip below Cody’s carefully kept armour.

He had come to trust General Kenobi. And not because he was a Jetii. But because the Jetii he was did not only rely upon the Force. General Kenobi did not just jump into battle carelessly – he always made sure to know everything he could about the field and the people they were dealing with. He had not just one plan, he often conceived at least another, if not two – and he worked. Tirelessly. Always improve his knowledge in battle and strategics, always seeking for the peaceful solution whenever they were on a mission, training whenever he could to perfect his combat skills – and teaching, of course.

That impulsive former hibir of his who was defying odds all the times, driving the General nearly insane – yet Cody knew just how much he cared for General Skywalker, whom he had raised like a child of his, until he became a friend.  

And that nehutyc little Commander, who had not learned yet that some odds could not be defeated, but was so endearing in that childish belief.

“She will learn. She is young still”, General Kenobi had told him, after they had evacuated her and her remaining troops on Felucia in a last-minute rescue – but Cody read his eye-language now and had seen sadness and worry and care there.

Just like that day General Kenobi had learned about the way the Kaminoan made the vode age faster, so that they could be battle-ready at ten. That day, the Jetii had paled, body getting very still at Cody’s side, who had not, ever, spared a second thought about it.

Seeing his Jetii-General so upset had made something in him stir, though. And so, being assigned to a Jetii who loved words and kept weighing them with such care, Cody had begun to think about them as well.

Words completed numbers, sometimes – they defined things better, like looking through electrobinoculars.

Enthusiasts. Nuances. Signatures. Compromise.

Cody had lost count of those words opening his inner world like small crevices. Some made him think. Some made him reconsider. And some left him in a state of silent wonder, because it felt like finally putting a name, an explanation to some patterns he had studied silently.

“Serendipity”, General Kenobi told him, one night, as they were sitting together on the Negociator’s bridge, going through medical supply-lists.

“It means: found by chance, by accident or coincidence – not by reasoning.”

Cody raised an eyebrow, face carefully lowered, but General Kenobi smiled at him, because he could read him through the Force.

“Not something you like, my dear Commander. Yet that is how the precursor of Nysillin was discovered. A researcher one forgot a box containing a colony of germs into a cupboard, and it became mouldy. When she finally remembered that box, she realised the germs had not grown. Rather, the mould seemed to have prevented them from colonising the box – so she tried to isolate it and to study it better. And that’s how we are able to use Nysillin now.”

“So… if she hadn’t forgotten that box…”, Cody said, slowly, frowning down at his data-pad and at the carefully drawn lists.

“Well, yes, Commander. Perhaps we would stand very differently now…”

Cody stayed silent a while more, then he raised his face and met General Kenobi’s calm, shrewd grey eyes.

“Is it something you like, sir? That… serendipity you just spoke of.”

The Jetii’s eyes turned soft, something very intimate sweeping briefly through his features.

“It is a word that is very dear to me, yes. You see, Commander, I do not think there are such things as immutable fates. I think every little act, and word, and thought probably plays a part into shaping the world around us. But I also think we will all remind blind, either wholly or partially, until we join the Force. So, serendipity… I like to think it is the Force’s way to give us a nudge.”

He smiled at him, wrapping his hand around his mug of tea.

“Yet it is but that: a nudge. We still have to deepen the course it shows us, and steer ourselves in the right direction.”

Cody nodded, slowly, assessing and processing the General’s words. And somehow, that night, working very late along his Jetii’s General side, another crevice opened in him, allowing few, precious words to pour out as well.

That night, he told the General that every vode had, in fact, something more than a number. Something they kept secret, only known by batch-brothers, because numbers were long and dull and hard to remember when one was just a kid.

“It is not a name. It’s… something that happened that made us laugh, or a special event involving a vode. It’s… I think it’s like the nudge you spoke about before, sir.”

The General’s eyes were still bright and alert, despite the late hour. His hair was tousled, though, because he had run his fingers several times through his hair, trying to rouse himself as they completed report after report. The Kaminoans would have brought him a comb, wordlessly radiating disapproval for everything that was not neat or symmetrical. But Cody just thought it made one want to speak to him, knowing one would not be judged.

“A nickname?”, the General questioned, softly, and Cody’s heart soared, for a brief second, leaving him almost helpless in the feeling’s wake.

“A nickname”, he repeated, tasting the word like some unknown flavour.

General Kenobi nodded, face growing thoughtful, eyes gentle as so often.

“Your signatures are so different, Commander. You may look alike – but I can assure you are not, in the Force. You all have a very unique way to be. And to become, as we all do.”

“They call me Cody. And it’s not Mando’a, even though Kote… Kote is another name they call me now. Because…”

“Because you are a fine leader, Commander. One that gave much glory to his troops – along with pride and strength.”

His General had a unique way of praising, too. It never looked like flattery. It just looked like facts, spoken with something warm Cody was finally identifying as care. And respect.

“Cody didn’t come from Kote, though, sir. It came from me… well… always telling my vode that safety was in numbers. Not just odds. And so they called me Codes, first, but quickly switched to Cody. I think only Rex remembers Codes, now, sir.”

General Kenobi smiled at him, and Cody almost smiled back, keeping his face straight just in time.

“I like all of these names, Commander. And I think… it is a wonderful thing to encourage, is it not? As much as I trust numbers and plans, as you so well know, I do prefer addressing people by names or titles.”

That night, General Kenobi called him Cody for the very first time. Sometimes he would use his title, sometimes he would combine both. Cody himself did not call him Obi-Wan – that was a name kept for Jetii and non-battle-friends. Instead, he called him sir, General, or General Kenobi – it was enough.

Or perhaps, it was because, sometimes, there was no real word for the fissures and light shaping people.  

Sometimes, words and names were simply not enough – but infinite.

And deep inside, it made Cody smile.

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic – translated from the original in Finnish

Summary: Young Caranthir is visiting his grandparents and sends a letter to his mother.

Word count: ~1,000; Rating: General audiences

Some keywords: family, epistolary

A/N: In this fic, Caranthir = Carnistir is still a child. Fanyë and Airion are original characters. They are Nerdanel’s brother’s children.

This is in purposefully simple language because it is a child's letter and I wanted the Finnish original to be readable to people learning Finnish too, not just natives.

Read on AO3

*

A letter home

Hello mama,

begins Carnistir's letter in all its simplicity. Nerdanel smiles down at it. Carnistir's handwriting is angular and messy, and the paper a little crumples. She is certain, however, that every word is meaningful.

 Hello mama,

 I am alright here at grandpapa Mahtan and grandmama Tyelpefindien's house. My cousins are less annoying than my brothers, and shared lessons with them have mostly gone well. Better than with Tyelko.

 Fanyë and Airion and I made small carvings of wood with grandmama this week, and pottery with grandpapa. I wanted to make animals. Airion made lumps that I did not recognise as anything before he told me what they are. But he is only small yet, and grandmama didn't give him a knife as sharp as she gave Fanyë and me for our carvings.

 Fanyë made flowers. I don't understand why because animals are much more interesting. She is very interested in flowers these days. I told her that she should start growing flowers instead of making inanimate things if she likes flowers so much. She shoved me and said that she can make flowers out of wood and clay all her life if she wants. I said that yes she can but she should only make them out of wood because her clay flowers are less nice.

 Her wooden flowers are rather wonderful. She made a rose with five layers of petals. They are very thin and fine, and my bird looks as much of a lump next to that rose as Airion's lump of clay which is supposed to be our grandparent's house. (It does not look like it.)

 I am sending my wooden bird to you anyway, mama. I made its tail a little too long but it is a house martin, a kind of swallow that lives here. If you think that painting it the right colours would make it better (and more easily recognisable) will you get me suitable paints? I will paint it when I get home. I tried to make it easy to paint. Grandmama gave me advice.

 I am also sending you the cat I made of clay with grandpapa's guidance. He helped me keep its legs from falling apart. I am better at working with clay than Fanyë but I don't like the feeling when clay dries on my skin. I don't think that I want to keep making pottery when I am grown.

 As you said when I left, it is useful to try many different crafts so I will know better what I like and what I want to apprentice in.

 Tomorrow we are going to begin learning how to work metal with grandpapa, although I of course know the basics of it already. Fanyë doesn't, she only knows woodwork and whittling. After that grandpapa has promised to teach Fanyë and me the rudiments of stone-carving (Airion is too small to learn that.) It sounds interesting. You have not yet got to teaching me about carving stone.

 But I would like it better if instead of teaching me how to carve a single stone grandpapa taught me how a great number of suitably cut stones are used to make a building.

 Here in the mansions of Aulë, houses are different from the houses in Tirion. I want to know why, and how differently the building of them is done, or is it only the end result that is different. Grandmama says that the houses of the Vanyar are even more different. I would like to see them up close some day. Can we ride through a Vanya village or town or city this year when we go to the harvest festival? We don't need to tell papa about it.

Nerdanel smiles still but her smile is tinged with sorrow. After a moment's break she carries on reading.

I also want to look closely at the Falmari's houses the next time we go to the seashore, Carnistir writes.

 In the evenings, Fanyë and Airion and I have time to play, and the whole family here goes on walks in the forest and along the fields. Fanyë always wants to walk one of grandmama's dogs. They often make a lot of noise and they want to charge after every squirrel. I walk ahead of the others sometimes so that I don't need to mind the dogs.

 I miss you, mama, and papa and Maitimo and Cáno, but not Tyelko. I am still angry with him for his prank that wasn't funny at all.

 I might forgive him next week but I am not making a promise of that.

 Don't keep the cat and the bird too close to each other in case the cat eats the bird. (That is a joke.)

 Yours

 Morifinwë Carnistir

 PS.  I wrote Morifinwë for papa if he reads this letter after all. I wrote him his own letter but it is shorter.

Carnistir's clay cat and wooden bird arrived together with the letter. Nerdanel opens the carefully wrapped packages and touches the little bird's smooth head and the cat's slightly arched back. Both show clearly the signs of being a child's work – a nimble-fingered, eager-to-learn child's.

How Nerdanel misses her fourth child! But it is better for Carnistir to be away from home for a while, at his grandparents' enjoying their loving attention and teaching, far away from Tyelko and his restless pranks. If Carnistir wants to stay  with his grandparents for a longer period of time, Nerdanel can ride there for a few days' visit. She could take Maitimo with her, perhaps. A small holiday from his studies would surely do some good for her conscientious first-born.

She goes to find good places for the clay cat and wooden bird. The bird she places on her bedside table to bring a smile to her face first thing in the morning, and the cat on the table in the corner of the dining room where the whole family can see it many times a day. As she walks from room to room, Nerdanel lists all the master builders and architects in Tirion, mulling over which one of them Carnistir might suit as an apprentice.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Voices Are Heard But Nothing Is Seen

Summary:  Edge is about done with unexpected happenings, but today is certainly a day for them.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, More Angst

Warnings:

This chapter gets a little spicy, some light sexiness going on.

~~*~~

Chapter List

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

Seldom All They Seem

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The knock at his door was an unexpected one. Too early for proper visitors even if he was expecting one, which he certainly was not. Edge took a moment to look through the peephole, the fisheye view showing him a child from the Bun family standing on his porch.

It was the work of moments to unlock the door and Edge threw it open, looking down at the child with no little suspicion.

“What is it?” Edge asked brusquely.

The child cringed a little, one hand twisting in the front of his striped shirt and the other holding up an envelope. “Message for you, Captain.”

That cringe made Edge's frown deepen. A certain amount of fear was better for anyone living in Underfell, particularly the young, to keep them safe. He’d never really considered that the children were often afraid of him in particular. Not that he’d ever harmed a single one, of course not, but surely he was imposing even without whatever evening stories their parents wove to keep them in their beds at night.

The children of Snowdin often skittered out of his path whenever he approached, their expressions ones of fearful awe, as though he were their savior and their boogeyman combined.

It had never bothered Edge in the past. He didn’t have time to coddle them when he was trying his damnedest to keep them alive. But seeing this child duck his head, his gaze kept fearfully low brought to mind an unpleasant possibility; his own child doing the same whenever he approached, that little soul growing inside Rus shying anxiously away from him.

Edge swallowed thickly even as the envelope, still held out to him, began to tremble ever so slightly in the child’s grip, dark sweat smudging the white paper.

“Thank you,” Edge said as he took the envelope, trying to temper the gruffness in his voice. He must have been somewhat successful, the child blinked, eyes darting up to meet Edge’s gaze. Impulsive, he dug into his inventory and pulled out a G coin, holding it out wordlessly to the child. And when the child only stared, Edge held it out again, biting back impatience as he added, “Here. Take it.”

Slowly, they reached out and at the last moment, snatched the coin from his hand. He expected the child to bound off, finally giving in to his fears, but they only backed away a step or two, staring at the coin. It might well be the first they’d ever owned; the Bun family was a large one with little cash to spare.

“Thank you, sir,” the child whispered and now his expression was one of awe.

“Keep it safe,” Edge warned, and the child nodded fervently.

“I will! I will, Captain!” And he finally dashed away, leaving Edge alone with that envelope.

He recognized the seal and ground his teeth. There was magic woven into it to keep anyone except the recipient from opening it and he had no doubt that if that child had indulged in any harmless curiosity, he would be the worse for it.

There was nothing for it. There was no question that she already knew he had it. With a sharp-tipped thumb, he popped the seal, holding it away from his face as a pale hiss of yellow smoke steamed up from the wax as the spell dissipated.

An invitation from Alphys to visit that afternoon for tea, as he’d expected.

Wonderful.

He’d frankly rather spend an afternoon fighting off a mob of XP hunters than with her, but turning down the invitation would be an insult she couldn’t ignore. Engaging in any kind of feud with Alphys was very low on his list, possibly alongside an assassination attempt on Asgore in terms of avoidance.

The only solution would be to endure and hopefully come out alive in the end.

~~*~~

Edge had visited the labs in Underswap once, reluctantly curious about the differences between worlds. As disturbing as it was to see Undyne’s alternate, a much shorter, meek and stammering version, almost more so was the sight of her lab. Dirty dishes scattered about, wrappers from the NTT resort balled up and piled beneath her desk. Disgusting, and knowing that she was Rus’s physician while he carried their child did not fill him with any sort of confidence.

But it was the only time in his recollection that Edge preferred filth to precision.

Alphys’s lab in Underfell was pristine, fluorescent lights glowing overhead, illuminating stark tiles and sleek stainless steel. The reek of bleach always hung heavy in the air, though even that couldn’t disguise the foul dankness lingering beneath.

The chairs were straight-back and uncomfortable, surrounding a low table, and Edge sat stiffly in his, watching as Alphys poured steaming tea into a delicate cup. There was a crack up the side of it, patched in gold, and when she handed it to Edge, he accepted it in silence.

“I suppose tea isn’t usual for a toast, b-but I hear that congratulations are in order,” Alphys said, pouring a cup of her own.

The rasp of her voice rarely ventured over a whisper and occasionally disintegrating entirely, coarsened by unnamed damage. Edge wondered at times if it was the same accident that caused the burns that left the side of her face sagging and one corner of her mouth drawn into a permanent scar, but an answer to that idle curiosity was surely not worth the price it would cost.

“Congratulations?” Edge asked. He managed to keep his tone neutral, but his soul was already sinking, chilled as if dunked in the freezing waters by the Snowdin docks.

Alphys nodded and sipped noisily from her cup, fastidiously wiping away the dribble of tea that leaked from the scarred side of her mouth. Edge raised his cup and did the same, discreetly holding the mouthful in a bubble of blue magic at the back of his throat, an uncomfortable but useful trick Red taught him years ago. Only a fool accepted any food within these walls without suspicion.

Thinking of his brother made an ache rise in his soul. Red was still barely talking to him, but there was no time for worrying on that. At least Red was spending a great deal of time with Rus and his interest in the souling was comforting. He wouldn’t be blaming the child for Edge’s stupidity.

“For the upcoming birth of your ch-child, of course!” Through her thick glasses, Alphys’s gaze was magnified and shrewd, regarding him knowingly. There was a choice to be made here.

What he knew of Alphys’s work was more rumor than fact, but he’d seen the results of one of her ‘experiments’ in New Home; once dangerous high-LV Monsters reduced to little more than dazed servants for the King. He suspected at times that some of the insanity-driven Monsters that roamed Snowdin wood weren’t there from their LV, but from something else entirely that sent them into screaming into the depths of madness. There was no way to be sure.

Edge didn’t know what things Asgore asked of her, what drove her. What he did know was that Undyne was infatuated with Alphys, no, perhaps obsessed would be more appropriate. His trust in Undyne could only extended so far, much as he wished otherwise; he couldn’t be confident that if she had to choose sides, it would be with him. That Alphys was questioning him now was damning as well, was it Undyne who’d broken confidence or if this was merely confirming that the audio-blocking device was no longer working.

Time was ticking away and there was still a choice to be made. Edge very much hoped it wasn’t the wrong one as he said, “Thank you.”

Alphys beamed and Edge wondered sourly if he’d only confirmed a suspicion rather than actual knowledge. But a denial might only make her more interested, entice her into trying to pry deeper into his affairs. Traps were in every direction and he needed to tread carefully.

“You must be so very excited! Skeleton magic is so very unique.” She took another sip of tea, saying almost into her cup as she looked up from beneath her lashes, “I realize this will be some time away, but when the child’s powers manifest, I do hope you let me observe.”

He could feel his magic burning hotter, crimson briefly eclipsing his vision with the flaring in his eye lights as he said, flatly. “You’re asking to experiment on my child.”

Alphys jerked, a splash of tea staining down the front of her pristine lab coat. He’d never seen Alphys look even mildly dismayed. It was something of a relief to see true horror now. “N-no, nothing like that! I only want t-to observe, your kind is so rare.” She set her cup onto the saucer with a clatter, clasping her clawed hands together, very nearly wringing them. Either she was a very convincing actor or genuinely upset and Edge was unwilling to bet on either. “I’m aware that my p-p-predecessor had a certain…reputation. But I would never hurt a child.”

But once the stripes were put away, all bets were off, weren’t they.

“I’ll consider it,” Edge said, intending no such thing. But being dragged all the way to Hotland for this sort of interrogation sat wrong with him and he couldn’t resist a jibe. “On the condition that Undyne is with you.”

A hectic flush rose in her cheeks and she gobbled out something in reply. But Edge was done. He drained the cup, pocketing the liquid with the rest, and stood, saying stiffly, “Thank you for the tea.”

He wasn’t quite to the door when Alphys called after him, “I haven’t seen your significant other on the c-cameras.” Edge ground his teeth, did not turn to look at her. There was no dismay in her voice now, only placid amusement as she asked slyly, “Where are you keeping them, tied up to your bed?”

It was no surprise she was watching. Everyone knew about the cameras, since the moment they were old enough to toddle past them. But the door to the basement, to the machine, was a mystery for very few. Other Monsters couldn’t seem to see the door. Their eyes skated over it, leaving a blank in their vision. As for the others, any skeleton not from Underfell made a point of shortcutting into their living room, per Edge’s rule. She couldn’t know where Rus was and that wasn’t about to change, not for any reason.

“Thank you for the tea,” Edge repeated. He turned his head enough to give her a short nod and left.

The moment he was outside, he spat out the tea, watching it seep quickly into the parched ground. The temptation was there to head directly back to Snowdin and from there to Underswap, but he resisted it. Better to go through his normal routine than to count on whatever force it was that kept the machine hidden to keep her from seeing where he was going.

It was past dinnertime when he finally went home. The house was empty, his brother nowhere to be seen, but that had been the norm since he learned about Rus’s pregnancy.

Edge changed out of his uniform before heading to the basement and the machine. Not that Rus didn’t know that he was in the guard, however, there was no need to grind his face in it. Lately, Rus was greedy to be held, cuddling in close whenever Edge was around. That was an easy desire to indulge and better in a comfortable pullover than armor.

His boots clattered on the steps as he went down, his concerns about Alphys sliding to the background as he thought fondly of Rus and his slowly growing belly. His brother’s prediction about it losing its translucence proved correct and Edge rather missed getting to see the soft glow of the little soul as it grew.

The tradeoff was that the little one moved now, sometimes with enough enthusiasm to make Rus wince, rubbing at whatever place was the recipient of a kick and complaining that their child was already taking after Edge.

Their child.

The evening was still early, but Rus was likely already sleeping. He often spent time drowsing away on the sofa while Edge and Blue watched television. He claimed the sofa was more comfortable for naps, cradling his achy bones.

The urge to hold him was growing by the moment and by the time Edge was out in the cold air of Underswap’s Snowdin, he was jogging to their front door, knocking lightly before opening it.

The living room was empty, he saw with a frown, the blanket Rus used folded neatly on the back of the sofa. There was a scrap of paper on the table and in Blue's best handwriting, Edge read that he’d gone off for night training with Alphys. Just seeing the name made Edge's mouth curl in distaste, even knowing they were very different people. He set the paper back down, considering the stairs.

Rus might have gone to bed early with both of them gone, and being able to hold him was winning out over Edge’s appetite. Perhaps he would quietly indulge for a time before seeing what dinner Blue surely left for them, from supplies Edge insisted on bringing. He could and would help provide, there would be no argument allowed there.

Yes, he decided, he wanted Rus close to him, Rus and their child. His conversation with Alphys had left him shaken and he wanted both of them in his arms.

Edge took a moment to lock the door, despite the insistence of the Swap brothers that it wasn’t necessary and went up the stairs on silent, stocking feet. Carefully he opened the door so as not to wake Rus, but he could not have braced himself for the sight before him.

Rus was completely bare, the soft orange swell of his belly stark against the pale sheets as he writhed and whimpered. His femurs were spread with one hand between them, his fingers working slickly, and Edge could only stand dumbfounded in the doorway, watching as he touched himself.

With a sigh, Rus opened his sockets and his hazy eye lights sharpened to see Edge standing there, gaping like a fool.

“fuck,” Rus groaned. His pelvis rose from the sheets, grinding almost desperately against his hand. “edge. i’m so fucking horny. help me?”

The soft honeyed flush in his cheek bones was enchanting, beautiful. Rus had always been beautiful at every brief tryst they’d had. Especially the last, his head tipped back as he gasped and whimpered, faint tears trailing down his cheekbones as he clawed desperately at the sheets, clutching them in a bone-creaking grip. His soul summoned between them, flashing lovely pure silver as it pressed to Edge’s, unknowingly creating the life he now carried.

But they hadn’t done anything of the sort since then. Edge slept next to Rus in his bed, held him close, offered light kisses and whispered to their child, and nothing more. He could taste the sweat beading on his upper jaw as he whispered, “I…I couldn’t...”

That lovely blush brightened, turned ruddy and mottled, closer to embarrassment than desire. Rus hastily reached for the sheet, dragging it over himself and wrapping up from skull to ankles.

“sorry,” Rus muttered, “wasn’t thinking.” He started to get up, swaddled in the sheet, his miserable hurt so blatant that Edge felt a flush of his own warming his cheek bones in matching shame.

“Wait, please.” Edge hastily crossed the room, sitting with Rus. Who refused to look at him, his pale eye lights flicking away.

“it’s no big deal, edgelord, i get it. you’re here for the kid is all and i overstepped—” He broke off as Edge ducked his head, giving him a firm kiss that should leave no doubt as to what Edge wanted. He opened his sockets when Edge drew away, panting softly and hurt fading to confusion.

“You don’t get it. It’s not that I don’t want to,” Edge told him. He hesitated, swallowing hard even as he confessed, “I don’t…I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Rus blinked once, twice, staring at him and then suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth. At first Edge thought he was nauseous; that happened occasionally, and Blue would simply have to wait until the child was here before attempting to cook anything with garlic again.

Then he realized Rus was stifling laughter. “seriously? look, hot stuff, you’re hung, but even your junk isn’t gonna knock the skitten on the head.”

That…should probably be insulting but said like that it made his worries seem ridiculously silly. Edge managed a short nod, unable to stop the sheepish curve of his own smile.

But humor faded quickly as Rus licked his teeth, his sockets languidly hooded as he gazed at Edge with nothing less than hunger. “besides, it’s not like that’s the only thing we could do. i’m too horny to sleep and that’s a fact. up for giving me a hand or is that too much for you, edgelord?”

Edge surged forward almost before he finished speaking, taking Rus’s mouth fiercely and urging him to lean back as he settled between Rus’s thighs.

After all, Edge suspected his honor, or possibly his stamina, was being called into question and he was determined to defend both.

~~*~~

Later, when Rus finally sank into an exhausted sleep, still quivering slightly with pleasurable little tremors, Edge curled up behind him.

Beautiful, Edge thought, though he kept it to himself, unwilling to wake Rus. But it was true, Rus was so very beautiful, always, and even more so now, ripe with pregnancy. He practically glowed with it and Edge would be content to simply look at him for some time, if he didn’t know Rus would give him a shove and tell him to knock it off.

Thinking of the baby...very lightly, Edge settled a hand over the slight curve of Rus’s belly. A soft thump greeted the touch, hard enough to make Rus murmur unhappily through his hard-won sleep. That wouldn’t do.

Edge slid down, replaced his hand with his cheek bone as he crooned softly to that bump, an almost forgotten lullaby from childhood. Perhaps it worked, the baby didn’t stir again. Or perhaps he was a fool, singing and whispering to a little one who couldn't hear a word of it. Edge did not know or care.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Edge murmured, too low to be heard even if he could be understood. “Keep you both safe.”

Underfell would never touch them, either of them. He would make sure of it.

Edge lay awake, his gaze flicking from Rus’s peaceful face to the pale, scarred bones of his hand resting against where his child slept, waiting to be born.

TBC

[retro-scorpio]

Sexual Tension

I don’t know what else to call this little one shot, so you’re unfortunately stuck with this.

I wrote this short story a little while ago, and it’s basically a college AU featuring Julian Devorak from The Arcana with special appearances from Julian’s sister Portia, Nadia Satrinava, Count Lucio, and Asra Alnazar. I may end up adding to this later, but as of right now this is the finished product.

So, if you’re into fanfiction about characters from The Arcana, then enjoy this story.

Julian has the rather stereotypical reputation of being a loner, so much so that it’s impossible to track him down outside of classes. Even then, he’s an elusive presence in the room, always choosing to sit in the back and keep to himself, his notes, and his cup of black coffee. Rumors spread about him as a result of his mysterious nature, but he doesn’t seem to know about them or care. At least, that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t know how true any of it is, because ever since I stepped foot in this university, I’m seeing him just about everywhere I go.

I first got a glimpse of Julian when I bumped into his shoulder as I was trying to find one of my classes. We both apologized, and he directed me to where I needed to go. Later on that same day, I discovered that we were both in the same English class about texts from the Victorian era, and so I opted to sit next to him. He’s always in the campus library the same time I am, hunched over books and scribbling things down in his notebook, and there was even one time where I caught him prancing around outside in the early morning light as if he was part of an imaginary sword fight.

So, I shouldn’t be that surprised to see him at auditions for our school’s fall production of Sweeny Todd, but at the same time it has me wondering just how many more times our paths are going to cross. Perhaps he likes the story as much as I do and wanted to see how our school would adopt it.

“Hello!” a skinny, petite, pale, brunette lady exclaims excitedly at me, startling me and making me flinch slightly. “I haven’t seen your face before. I’m Lizzy.” She extends her hand out to me, and I shake it. Before I can even tell her my name, though, she asks bluntly,

“You don’t know what role you want, do you?”

“Pardon?” Lizzy sheepishly smiles.

“Sorry; I should have warned you in advance that I’m really good at reading people. Being involved in theatre does that to you over time.”

“It’s okay,” I respond. “Especially because you’re right; I’m not even sure if I’ll get a part at all. I just really enjoy the story and thought I’d give this a shot.”

“Have you ever acted before?”

“A couple times, yeah. When I was younger. I’ve always liked the idea of acting, but I’ve not had much time to devote to it.

“Well, here’s your chance to tip your toes back in the water! I think I have the perfect role for you.”

“You do?” I ask. Lizzy enthusiastically nods her head.

“You see that giant group of people over there?” She points out a crowd huddled on the other side of the auditorium, appearing to be watching Julian’s every move and swooning over him.

“They’re all wanting to play the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant.”

“Let me guess: Julian’s playing Sweeny Todd.”

“Unofficially, yes,” Lizzy answers in a hushed tone. “He certainly has all of the traits of the character. The assistant is the most sought after role because in this iteration, they’re Sweeny Todd’s love interest and eventual partner in crime.”

“I thought Mrs. Lovett fulfilled that role.”

“In the classic, yes. This version is a sequel of sorts that answers the question, ‘what if Sweeny Todd didn’t die and instead managed to escape?’ So, he ends up traveling to and settling down in New York, where he picks up an assistant who helps him around his shop. He leads a normal life for five years until his daughter Johanna finds him and confronts him about what he did in London. The assistant happens to overhear their conversation and talks to Sweeny about it later that evening, and he or she—depends on who ends up getting the role—convinces Sweeny to pick up where he left off because there are a lot of corruption and starvation in New York.” Interesting. So, some artistic license has been taken with the story, which could either go really well or quite terribly.

“So, why do you think I would make a good assistant?”

“Because you’re the only person Julian’s noticed walk in here.” Before I can ask for Lizzy to clarify, a booming voice cuts through the chatter, and I’m forced to rush to the large group of people vying to play the assistant.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the voice rings out. It belongs to a tall, blonde man on the stage. “My name is Lucio, and I’m co-directing this play with the help of my dear friend Lizzy. Now, I’ve been told that there’s a long list of people wanting the role of Sweeny Todd’s assistant, so we’ll get that out of the way first. Will everyone fitting that description please step to the front of the auditorium and line up horizontally so that I can take a good look at each of you?” It becomes clear quickly that Lucio is pulling out the weeds before anyone even says a line, for he goes down the line and says no to the people he deems unfit for the role. A lot of it seems based on physical looks as he utter phrases like ‘too short’, ‘too fat’, and even ‘too ugly’ to a couple of individuals. By the time he gets to me, I’m finding it hard to swallow, but I try my best to not let Lucio know that I’m nervous. Instead, I look straight at him as he glances over every inch of me.

“Spunky,” he murmurs. I’m not wearing anything grand, so I wonder what brought on that comment. “I like it.” He moves on to the next person, and I hesitantly remain where I’m standing. Even though he gave me a compliment, Lucio didn’t explicitly tell me to stay like he did with the others still in line.

“Alright,” he states once he’s assessed everyone, clasping his hands in front of his chest. “So, for those no longer standing up here, you can either talk to Lizzy and audition for a different role or you can leave for the evening. The choice is yours. As for the rest of you, you’ll be ad-libbing your way through a pivotal scene in the play shortly. Julian, if you would hop on stage please.” Looking back at the seats, I see Julian sprawled out, as if he was right at home. He leisurely untangles himself and makes his way on stage.

“Bring out one of the folding chairs from backstage,” Lucio nearly barks at Julian. As Julian fulfills the request, Lucio tells us that we’ll be acting out the scene in which Sweeny Todd admits his crimes to his assistant.

“Julian will deliver the first line, thus setting the scene, but the direction it goes is entirely up to you. When I have seen enough, or if things are stalling, I will call scene. Remember, only one of you will get the role, so make a good impression. Julian!”

“Ready when you are!” Julian calls back. His voice is surprisingly smooth. The few times we’ve talked, he’s sounded a bit groggy, as though he needed more sleep. Combined with his tall stature, bright eyes, and muscular physique, it makes him quite the dream boat. I can see why so many people want to play his love interest.

“Excellent! You there. Pinky.” Lucio points at a girl with hot pink hair. “You’re up first.” Thank goodness. I did not want to go first. Lucio directs us to sit down in the second and third rows as he plants himself closer to the middle of the auditorium.

I must say, Julian is very good at improving. Not only does he know his character, but he’s also giving his partner opportunities to showcase their talents. Whether they take him up on his offer is another story. Some of them want to steal the scene, and others are using it as a means to flirt with Julian. Meanwhile, Lucio’s patience is slowly growing shorter as no one seems to be exactly who he’s looking for. He’s given everyone nicknames, some of them unflattering as time wears on. Fortunately for me, he calls me Spunky.

When I sit down on the chair on stage, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, envisioning the scene I’m about to play in my head. If this is a pivotal part in the play, then it needs to be full of suspense and drama. Just like that, a plan’s in place.

“Ready?” Julian whispers as I open my eyes back up. I nod my head, and he utters the opening lines.

“Elise, what you heard my daughter say is true. I am—well, was—the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I murdered countless people. Judges, doctors, lawyers, even my own wife. I ran away from London because I didn’t want to get caught, but the truth is all of those people either deserved to die or were wishing for death to be bestowed upon them. I was simply doing the world a favor.”

“I don’t believe you,” I reply. There’s a fleeting moment where Julian’s caught off guard, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh, really? And why’s that, dear?”

“How am I supposed to believe that the same man who constantly stubs his toe on furniture and smiles at everyone that he meets is capable of ruthless, calculated, cold-hearted murder? For God’s sake, you can’t even walk into a room without making some sort of mess! You’re always relying on me to keep the shop tidy, and I feel like someone who was into killing people would be able to neaten things up themselves.” Julian sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a pencil.

“So, you don’t believe I have it in me to be a murderer.”

“No, I don’t.” The next thing I know, Julian’s leaning over me, his face inches away from mine and his pencil hovering over my nose.

“Let me tell you something, darling; this tool has helped me make my way up the social chain. No matter how rich a man is, there comes a day where he needs a shave, and I’m the best there is.” He moves the pencil down and presses it against my throat while maintaining eye contact.

“There’s a certain amount of pressure that you need to apply in order to get a smooth, clean shave. If you don’t put enough pressure, you end up missing a few spots. Put too much, and well, you end up cutting him. Draw the knife across the neck fast enough, and you have a dead man suffering from major blood loss.” He presses the pencil harder against my throat to emphasize his point, making it slightly difficult for me to breathe.

“Shall I show you what I mean, Elise, or have I made myself clear?”

“I believe you,” I gasp. He immediately releases pressure and takes a couple steps back, smirking at me.

“Good. Now, if that’s all you wanted to discuss, then I suggest you head up to bed for the evening. We have a long day tomorrow.” He starts walking away from me, but Lucio hasn’t yelled for the scene to end, so I assume that I have to keep going.

“Why America?” Julian stops in his tracks and turns to face me.

“Pardon?”

“Why did you flee to America of all places? You could have easily traveled to France or Italy, but instead you chose New York.” Julian sighs.

“Like I said, I didn’t want to get caught. I wanted to start a new life, and word travels quicker from England to other countries in Europe than it does from England to America. The two countries are separated by an ocean, after all.”

“Have you ever thought about doing it again?”

“Doing what again?”

“Using your profession as a means of…extermination.”

“Elise, I was in a really dark place when I executed that plan in London. I’m not the same person I was five years ago, and if I were to do it again, I’d be signing my own death sentence.” I get up from the chair and slowly walk up to Julian, worried that my next actions are going to make Lucio end the scene.

“My father was killed by a drunk police officer who mistook him for another man, and my mom was raped and beaten by the judge overlooking the case.” I gently place my fingers around his chin and stand on the tips of my toes, bringing my face closer to his.

“The rich and powerful are just as evil and corrupt in New York as they are in London, Mr. Todd. They get to do whatever they want with impunity, even if it costs the lives of innocent, hardworking people. Someone has to make them pay for their crimes, or their offspring will continue being monsters among the human race. Is that something you’re willing to live with?” Julian looks like he’s beginning to run a fever at this point with his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. I plant my feet back on the ground and walk around him, heading towards an imaginary door.

“Good night, Mr. Todd.”

“Scene.” Even though Lucio’s voice is the softest it’s been during this entire process, the auditorium is silent enough for it to carry.

“Well, Spunky, I knew there was a reason I liked you. Congratulations, you have the role. Asra, you’ll be Spunky’s understudy, because you’re the only one that has as much chemistry with Julian. Everyone else who was auditioning for the assistant, you can either stick around and try for another role or leave; it doesn’t matter that much to me.”

 I end up staying through until the end of auditions, mainly because I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to leave or not. Turns out, once all the roles were filled to Lucio’s satisfaction, he gave everyone a copy of the rehearsal times, so it’s a good thing that I stuck around after all. Plus, I got to watch Julian perform on stage. I must say, the way he carries himself when he’s acting is quite entertaining, to say the least.

Speaking of Julian, he practically runs up to me as I’m leaving the auditorium.

“Well, hi, Julian,” I greet him, surprised that he sought me out. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replies quickly, his words rushing together into a jumbled mess. “I was just wondering if you would maybe like to walk with me? Since we’ll be working closely together, I would like to get to know you a little, but it’s totally fine if you just want to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind a little bit of company.” Julian smiles enthusiatically, and it makes my heart race.

“Great!” The two of us walk outside and start meandering around.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name,” Julian tells me. “Isn’t that weird? We keep seeing each other around campus, and we even share a class together, but I don’t know what to call you.” Is Julian normally this nervous? He’s certainly a fast talker, and he’s rambling a bit.

“My name’s Carina.” He stops in his tracks and gawks at me.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…” What about my name is making Julian awestruck? He doesn’t hate the name, does he?

“Carina was the name of a pet rabbit I had when I was younger. I’ve always liked how sophisticated and beautiful it sounded, and I thought that if I was to have a little girl, she would be called Carina.” He takes a momentary pause and shakes his head before adding,

“Then again, naming a child after a childhood pet isn’t exactly normal.” He continues walking, and I kind of have to jog to catch up to him.

“So, Julian, how long have you been acting? You looked like a professional on stage.” The compliment makes him flush.

“I’ve been acting since I was about five,” he answers softly, avoiding my gaze. “It started with children’s theater and stuff like that, but when I was ten, I attended my first summer drama camp, and my love for acting has grown ever since. Lucio ran the camp, you know. Has for many years.” I had no idea Lucio and Julian had that much history together.

“Do you like working with Lucio?”

“He’s very passionate about his work, which makes him a very intense person to be around. If things don’t go his way, he’s prone to throwing fits and screaming at people. Despite of that, he does manage to put together spectacular shows and treats everyone to a nice party in the end, so I would say working with Lucio is similar to a roller coaster. It’s both scary and exciting at times.”

“I see.” Julian finds a bench and beckons for me to sit down with him. Once we’re seated, he asks,

“What made you decide to try out for this play? Was it in order to get closer to me?” Before I can answer, he quickly backtracks.

“I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. God knows I’m way too insecure to think that way. It’s just that ever since Lucio accidentally let it slip that I would be the male lead in this play, I’ve heard people whispering about me all over campus, revealing to their friends what they would do to me if they got to play the assistant. To be honest, all of the attention makes me sick. I mean, I enjoy being in the spotlight when it comes to acting, but when I’m not on stage, I…”

“You just want to be left alone, don’t you?” Julian clasps my hand and nods his head.

“Well, Julian, if it makes you feel any better, I auditioned because I really enjoy the story of Sweeny Todd and wanted to see if I had what it took to get a role. That’s it. No nefarious intentions involved.” He visibly relaxes.

“Thank you, Carina,” he sighs contently. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly, making me look away and blush. This play is going to be interesting, to say the least.

 I wish there was a way to describe how today’s rehearsals went without being vulgar, but when you’re forced to repeatedly act out a scene where you’re passionately arguing with someone that you feel unresolved sexual tension towards and from, the most mild way to go about it would be to state that it was like two animals in heat. I’m honestly surprised that Julian and I managed to get through rehearsal without tearing each other’s clothes off on stage in front of everyone in the auditorium to see.

You see, this scene involves Elise, the assistant, yelling her grievances at Sweeny Todd, which revolve around money and sex, and Sweeny shouting that those problems wouldn’t exist if she didn’t essentially tell him to become a criminal again. This of course makes Elise more angry at Sweeny, and the scene ends with her storming out of his room and slamming the door behind her. Lucio calls this scene “the beginning of the end”, because after this point in the play, their relationship quickly becomes toxic to the point where they want to kill each other.

Speaking of Lucio, he’s been a key player in creating the tension between Julian and me, because he continuously forces us to approach the edge of no return, but he never allows us to go over it, not even outside rehearsal. Julian’s trying his best to be a gentleman and abide by Lucio’s rules, but I can tell that he’s getting worn out by constantly pushing down anything he may feel towards me and only allowing those emotions to come out when we’re on stage.

I suppose that’s why Asra pulls me aside as soon as Lucio dismisses us for the evening.

“Carina, there’s something you need to know about Julian,” he tells me softly but firmly.

“Go on…” Asra sighs.

“He’s a bit of a pressure cooker. He shoves any feelings he deems undesirable down until he can’t contain them anymore, and then they explode out of him with no way for him to control them until they’re completely out of his system. And it’s not just feelings like anger or sadness; he can get quite horny as well.” Before I can even reply to anything Asra has said, he quickly adds,

“I’ve seen the way you two have interacted during practice, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Sure, he’ll light up your world, but only for as long as he has to act with you. The moment the curtain drops on the final performance, he’ll throw you away like the burnt match you’ve become while spending time with him.” So many questions zoom through my brain, but right as I pick one to ask Asra, Julian walks to us and practically drags me away from him with a fake smile plastered on his face.

“Did something happen between you and Asra?” I ask Julian as we walk outside the auditorium.

“It’s a long story,” Julian mutters scornfully.

“I don’t have anywhere I have to be, so spill.” Julian stops and turns to face me, grabbing my hand as he does so.

“Carina, there are just some things that are best left in the past. Let’s just say that Asra and I aren’t the best of friends.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care so much?” Julian’s voice gets a bit nastier and louder, making me feel defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I nearly shout sarcastically. “It’s not like anyone would get curious if someone told them that a friend of theirs treats people like they were pieces of trash to be disposed of at the first opportunity.” Julian’s eyes briefly widen in shock before decisively narrowing in anger.

“Maybe some people are trash. You try your best to hold on to them because they mean a lot to you, but in the end you have to cut ties before they hurt you.”

“What in the hell are you talking about, Julian?”

“I’m talking about Asra!” We’re both yelling at this point. “He’s always painting himself as the victim, and he never acknowledges any of his wrongdoings!”

“What?!” Julian lets go of my hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to calm himself down.

“Look, if you want to know the truth, you’re not going to get it from either Asra or me, because we both were self-centered at the time.”

“Then who does know the truth?”

“Why don’t I have you meet her?”

 As it turns out, the girl in question happens to be in an apartment Julian lives in. Initially, I thought she was the short, plump, red-headed individual who greeted us when we stepped inside, but then she quickly dragged Julian away, talking excitedly about finally having a subject for the painting she was working on. Before I know it, a door slams, and I’m left alone.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” a smooth, female Indian voice tells me, making me jump out of my skin. When I recover from my shock, I find myself face-to-face with a regal-looking woman. She’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but her face looks very queenly. I follow her request and sit down in one of the chairs in the kitchen, which is the first room you’re in when you walk inside the apartment.

“You must be Carina,” the woman states, pouring hot water into two mugs and putting in tea bags. “Julian’s told me a lot about you, so I figured it was only a matter of time before he brought you over. I’m Nadia.” She walks over to the table and sits in the chair next to me, handing me a mug as she does so.

“How do you know Julian?” I nervously ask. There’s something about her that tells me that I’d do well to not piss her off.

“In simple terms, I’m a friend of his who’s mentoring his sister. She was the one that you saw first.” I take a sip of tea.

“What about in complex terms?” Nadia smirks at me.

“You’re clever. Julian could stand to be around someone like you.”

“Thank you,” I reply shyly.

“I’m Julian’s…unofficial therapist, you might say. Then again, I’m kind of everyone’s unofficial therapist, except for Portia. Julian’s sister,” she quickly adds upon seeing the confused look in my eyes. “Anyway, I deal with secrets. Secrets that can either bring people together or make them despise each other.”

“How do you do that?”

“Why, I talk to people. I listen to them, note anything interesting, and pass it along to whoever’s interested in it, for a small fee. Speaking of which, I’m sure there’s something you’d like to ask me. I have a feeling Julian didn’t bring you over here just to meet his sister and her teacher.” I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“I don’t know if you would be able to answer this, but something happened earlier this evening that raised some questions for me.” I quickly recount what Asra and Julian had told me after practice, and Nadia nods her head as I talk.

“To be honest, I’m not surprised,” Nadia responds. “Asra’s quite petty, and Julian can be melodramatic sometimes. They’ve both come to me complaining about the other, and I’ve seen their interactions with each other over the years, so I have a lot of information about the nature of their relationship. I just need one thing from you.”

“I understand.” Nadia smiles, making her look that much more like royalty.

“Good. So, tell me: how do you feel about Julian?” I nearly choke on my tea, and I feel my face start to burn up in embarrassment and something else, something more animalistic.

“I see,” Nadia replies to my nonverbal response. “You’re both pulled so taut that you’re about to snap.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Only because you both blush at the mere mention of the other. How hard has Lucio been pushing you?”

“We’re not allowed to be intimate off stage. We can be friendly, but that’s it.” Nadia sighs.

“Classic Lucio. Gets completely blindsided by Asra and then takes it out on you.”

“What do you mean?” Nadia proceeds to launch into the story of Julian and Asra. Apparently, they started off as rivals because Asra was jealous of Julian becoming Lucio’s favorite without even trying when he had to work tirelessly for two years prior just to get Lucio’s approval. The rivalry was one-sided, though, because Julian was blissfully unaware that Asra felt any ill will towards him.

When Julian was a sophomore in high school and Asra a senior, they ended up being the lead characters of one of Lucio’s original plays. Julian had shot up over the summer and was eight inches taller than Asra, which led to Asra developing feelings for Julian. This, of course, presented some internal conflict for Asra up until Julian had expressed interest back. From there, their relationship burned bright and fast.

Things between them started going downhill quickly when Asra would manipulate Julian into doing sexual things that Julian most likely wouldn’t have done on his own and Julian would either get super clingy or super distant. Nadia had tried to get them to work things out, but as soon as the final show ended, Julian broke up with Asra and ghosted him as much as he possibly could.

“So, why exactly would Asra care about my wellbeing if he really doesn’t care for Julian?” I ask Nadia once she’s done with her tale.

“Well, once Asra and Julian broke things off, Julian developed the habit of getting romantically close to his costar only to drop them once the production was over. Since you’re pretty new to the acting world, Asra wouldn’t want your experience to be soured by anything Julian does. At least, that’s what he’s told me.”

“But?” Nadia smirks knowingly.

“You’re the first person since Asra that’s made Julian…I don’t want to say lovestruck, because that sounds overdramatic, but maybe pleasantly nervous.”

“Really?” She nods her head.

“If you stay over here long enough this evening, Julian’s bound to show you what I’m talking about.”

 Julian’s managed to contain himself, all things considered. His sister Portia kept teasing him about me, Nadia awarded her with smirks, smiles, and some extra dessert, and it seemed like every other commercial on TV was based on a cheesy romantic comedy.

But then Nadia leaves for the evening and Portia goes off to bed and Julian starts channel surfing only to stumble upon a show that featured a girl moaning loudly as a guy’s using his dick like a jackhammer to drill an additional hole into her.

That’s when I can tell that some frayed strings in Julian are snapping. His face becomes flushed, his eyes dilate with a mixture of shock, horror, and arousal, and his mouth’s agape at the scene unfolding in front of him. I myself am having a difficult time keeping my composure, but I’m able to remain sane long enough to gently take the remote from Julian’s hand and shut the TV off. In a blink of an eye, my hand replaces the remote as Julian turns his body so that he’s facing me.

“C-Carina,” he stammers. “I…I’ve been trying so hard, and I—” As quickly as he grabbed my hand, I place my index finger on his lips and lean close to him. Somehow, his face becomes even redder.

“Julian, what do you want to do to me?”

“I don’t know if I should—” I cut his sentence abruptly by clamping my hand over his mouth.

“Just nod or shake your head, okay?” Julian nods his head, his gray eyes sparkling in the living room light.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Nod.

“Do you want to make out with me?” Nod.

“Do you want to run your hands all over my body?” Nod.

“Do you want to leave bites all over me?” A more hesitant nod.

“Do you want to do to me what the man on the screen did to that girl?” A very slow, almost ashamed nod, but a nod nevertheless.

“I want you to listen to me, Julian, because I’m only saying this once. When I remove my hand from your mouth, I want you to do me on this couch. You can go as rough or soft as you want, but I don’t want you to stop until you’ve orgasmed. I don’t care what Lucio’s going to say when he sees us at our next rehearsal; his decisions have pulled you so taut that you’re snapping right in front of me as we speak. Do you understand?” After a moment of serious contemplation, a quite shy nod.

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m leaving you to do whatever you want.” Nod.

“One.” Julian swallows.

“Two.” Something inside me quivers in anticipation.

“Three.” Time gets jumbled for about five seconds, and when it straightens itself back out, Julian and I are at the other end of the couch; he’s moved on top of me and is frantically kissing every part of me that he can touch. I can’t really keep up with him, not that I’m complaining.