#rt fanfictions

[cupidsdolll]

a bittersweet mafiarry multipart.

Namin’ The Stars After You - 3.2k. angst.

Harry’s known for being ruthless in the way he does his job, a day job out with his girlfriend takes a horrible turn.

Bigger Than The Whole Sky - 1.1k. angst.

summary: harry’s angry at the world, himself included and he makes it everyone’s problem but there might be a light coming in the middle of his storm

Golden Like Daylight - 1.2k. fluff, light angst.

Y/N’s alive but she’s not who she used to be, Harry has to deal with the aftermath.

[forlorn-crows]

Could you do 11 with Sunny and Cirrus please ❤️

#11 . . . in joy

Cirrus is drained, tired from her temples to her toes. The ride home had been full of nothing but bumps and chatter; Lucifer bless him, Mountain had tried to soothe her while her mate flitted about excitedly with Aeon and Aurora, practically sticking their faces to the bus windows while they perched on the skinny sofa, butts in the air and tails wagging in tandem. While the steady arm around her shoulders and the earth ghoul's calming scent was nice (even if it was overpowered with bright, citrusy excitement once they pulled into the abbey's long drive), Cirrus needs, more than anything, a long hot bath in solitude and semi-darkness.

It's all she's thinking about as they disembark. All she looks forward to as she drags her belongings in an oversized tote bag down the narrow steps, locating her luggage from one of the siblings sent out to help them and the rest of the crew unload. Just a nice, relaxing soak with some oils and bubbles, a glass of wine in the hand that's draped over the porcelain side.

The fantasy floats away the second she steps inside the vestibule and sees her through the small crowd of people. A curly copper head with warm brown horns bouncing up and down excitedly next to a certain quintessence ghoul's shoulder.

Sunshine.

Cirrus drops her bags next to a nearby pillar, hardly caring if her tote falls over and spills all its contents. All she cares about---Cumulus too, from the sounds of it---is getting that warm, beautiful girl of a ghoul back into her arms again.

Her gasp and subsequent squeal ring out over the din of the group, and the three of them barrel towards each other through the throng of people.

Cirrus reaches her first, Sunny practically crashing into her and jumping into her arms simultaneously.

"Cir!" she cries into her neck. "Oh I missed you so much!"

The taller ghoulette squeezes her tight. "Missed you too, sunbug. C'mere." Cirrus pulls back and cups Sunshine's face, pulling her into a kiss. She could nearly cry at the surge of joy and relief that floods her chest at the touch of her lips, slotting together like no time has passed.

She must linger a little too long, because Cumulus pipes up beside her. "Cirrrr," she whines impatiently. "Let me have a turn or I'm gonna explode!"

Sunshine laughs, as pretty as a windchime in a summer breeze. "There's plenty of me to go around, Lucy." She smiles wide and reaches for her, and Cumulus pulls her into a near bone-crushing hug. Sunny just squeals and laughs, soaking it all in.

Cirrus thinks she can forego the bath, at least for the moment, if it means she can bathe in Sunshine's warmth and love instead.

[vossprime]

Mechanical; Medicinal

Pairing: Pasqal Haneumann x Female Rogue Trader

Rating: Explicit, no warnings apply

Tags: Smut, Fluff, Instructions, Masturbation, Explicit Consent, Negotiation, Techpriests being Techpriests, Vaginal Fingering, adorable awkward first time between two people, Theological Discussion

Summary: Pasqal delivers some reports and finds himself in bed with the Rogue Trader.

Gift for @jaal-ama-daravv <3

“Rogue Trader.” Pasqal's vox came to life, echoing the familiar syllables. “I was summoned as per your request.”

“Magos.” Lorelei gave him a grateful smile, straightening her back in an effort to shake off the hours. It was rare to be here instead of Dargonus, and it was good to be back, even if it was only behind the desk. “Thank you for finding the time.”

“Reporting to the Lord Captain is my highest duty as Enginseer.” Pasqal’s voice was calm, seeped through with slight static as always, but his stance betrayed that he was at ease and his gaze softened when it met the Rogue Trader’s. She couldn’t hide the slight hitch in her breathing holding eye contact, and so she broke it hastily. Lorelei shifted a few papers on her desk, though they had absolutely no relevance to the conversation.

“It is nothing major. I wanted to inquire, out of personal interest, what kind of progress you’ve made with Nomos.” She quickly continued, speaking up as to hide that for a moment, she had stopped in her tracks. “Since our meeting in servitor-form at my Magnae Accessio had to be cut short due to the nature of the festivities.”

She imagined seeing a glint in the eye of the man across her when she mentioned Nomos.

“I found myself fascinated, thinking about Nomos beyond the short conversation I had with it. I was mainly wondering if its time off-ship yielded new results?”

“The unit known as Nomos did collect great amounts of data. Regrettably, it has requested undisturbed time for reflection and comprehension. Analysing that data is currently advancing without input. ”

Pasqal descended into an explanation of the steps the ships-tech priests had taken to aid Nomos in its analysis. The days where his speech had been too distinct and too binaric for her to understand were over, however now, she found herself not listening for different reasons.

The firm line of his brow softened when he spoke, his bright eyes lit up even more, his mechadendrites moved animatedly with each word.

It was a welcome sight, and when he finished his report, she realised that she missed a part of it.

“I thank you for your report.” 

Lorelei wouldn’t admit to her inattentiveness, and most conversations in her study were recorded for re-listening convenience.

She expected Pasqual to leave, after all this was all she had called him in for, but he stood in place, calm and silent.

“Is there something else, Pasqal?”

His machines gave off an alert sequence of noise, several beeps in fast order. 

“Requesting further communication.” His voice was low and measured, “My surveillance of vitals on unit Lorelei, Rogue Trader, additionally make it my duty to address several readings.”

Lorelei couldn’t help being surprised, but gave it thoughtful consideration before letting herself be unsettled too easily. 

“I have been feeling somewhat exhausted lately, now that you mention it. I do hope it is nothing serious.” She gave him an earnest smile. “I thank you for your care. Proceed.”

The thought that he was keeping an eye on her was reassuring. As Rogue Trader, there was always much to do and many people to look out for, so that it was sometimes deceptively easy to forget to take care of oneself.

“The deviation is minimal.” Pasqal’s tone stayed soothing and steady as always, and Lorelei’s heart lightened. “I predict a low impact on performance. As the only retinue member with such abilities, it is merely my function to supervise in the absence of medical personnel. Data available: Increase in heart rate. Above average production of several hormonal substances. Dilation of the pupils-”

Lorelei cleared her throat. “It is nothing.” The nature of the deviation suddenly became all too apparent for her taste.

Pasqal looked at her with a mild mixture of offence and concern.

“One of the possible causes I could narrow down is: fear. Sweating, fast breathing and excessive production of adrenaline are possible symptoms of feeling threatened.”

Lorelei felther cheeks grow warm. Knowing how fair she was, the Techpriest would see the aforementioned symptoms soon enough. 

“I think it has to do with your presence, more than anything.”

This would certainly be a predicament to explain to him.

“My presence?” Pasqal lifted his head in time with his mechadendrites, curiously fixating the Rogue Trader with a gaze. “This unit finds it difficult to create a sufficient conclusion on why the Rogue Trader would perceive it as a threat. If there is reason, I will rectify the behaviour in question immediately.” 

Seeing him apologise almost sparked a sense of guilt in her. Where others saw him as closed-off and enigmatic, she saw a man who was always painfully sincere. Him bowing his head in a miscommunicated act of transgression was something she couldn't let stand, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might make her. 

“No, Pasqal.” She raised her volume just enough for him to hear the unmistakable conviction in her voice. She was a powerful woman, and she knew the weight of her words. 

“You did nothing wrong. I continue to appreciate your presence aboard this ship, and you have not once given me a reason to feel angry, threatened, or otherwise displeased at you.” 

Afterwards, however, she faltered. How did one explain what one couldn't even quite make sense of?

“You won’t let go unless I tell you to, will you?”

“My domain is knowledge.” Pasqual affirmed, “desire for it dominates all. But I will purge the case from my records if ordered to do so.”

“Well then.” Lorelei stood up, suddenly discontent with not standing eye to eye, but hip still resting against the edge of the table.

“There is an explanation your calculations failed to consider: I simply like you. More than,” she lightly coughed, throat suddenly tightened, “more than is average. It is no secret I seek to understand your soul, but I fear this is an issue of, ah, body as well.”

By the Emperor, why did attraction sound so nonsensical when explained?

“I suppose this might sound alien to members of the Adeptus Mechanicus?”

Pasqal’s stance betrayed no nervousness, no hesitation.

“Do not underestimate the depth of our knowledge. Understanding the will of the machine requires understanding the will of the flesh as well.”

“The case doesn’t need to be purged. This conversation can stay between us, trusting in your discretion, and business will resume as usual. I will trouble you no further with my desires. Goodnight.”

She lifted herself off the ledge of the desk, ready to head to bed and forget about all of this.

“Rogue Trader-” his voice cut through the warm air of her chambers like a well-oiled blade. “This unit has dedicated itself to serving you, and if it can provide you with any assistance at its disposal, it will.”

She didn’t think his voice would sound as soft as it did. Lorelei questioned if he was offering what she presumed or if that was wishful thinking. 

That in itself was unusual, his words usually straight and to the point.

“I would want assistance for more than just duties’ sake.”

“The reasons for my service reach far deeper than duty.” 

Her heart fluttered, though she dared not to hope for too much. Their working relationship was a short one, after all, and she couldn't imagine Pasqal to be one for short-lived affairs.

“What would your aid entail?” Her inquiry was soft, hesitant. She didn’t wish to encroach on his boundaries more than she already felt like she did. Her fingers lingered on the side of the desk, yet undecided whether to leave or stay.

“That depends on the extent of your wishes.” Pasqal admitted, eyes cast down. “The Rogue Trader should be conscious of the fact that this unit does not usually see to such tasks.”

Lorelei swallowed nervously “I- I know.” Her fingers anxiously fidgeted with the edge of her desk, lacquered nails thrumming against the hardwood. “With your consent, I’d like to take you up on this offer.”

“My consent has been given.”

“Might I propose we take this somewhere more private, then?” ___

“How is engaging with the flesh not antithetical to your belief in the Omnissiah?” she inquired on the way to the bedroom.

He held the door open for her as she stepped through. He smelled faintly of the surprisingly sweet aroma of machine oil and, well, like any other human. The realisation softened her. It was so unexpected, as he was so much more to her, but she fondly embraced the reminder there was a human underneath it all.

She stood still between the Magos and the doorframe, looking up to the tall figure above her.

Sitting behind the raised Rogue Trader’s desk, people seemed so small. Now, she didn’t feel so high and mighty anymore.

“The circles I studied in imposed no law that forbade this. Seeing that the subject will be the Rogue Trader’s body, not mine, this appears compliant with all teachings.”

“I would like to request you stop calling me Rogue Trader when it is just the two of us, if your protocol allows for it. Lorelei suffices.”

She was more than her station, after all, and especially in the bedroom, there was no room for the title of Rogue Trader.

“And what about you?” Lorelei drew closer, fingers dancing along the seam of the scarlet robes of the Mechanicus. “What is your perspective on the issue?”

“The machine is the true flesh, and I do not stray from this belief.” He watched her, interested, fascinated, as she continued playing with his robe just enough to lay bare a small patch of skin, “I diligently strive to adhere to the will of the Omnissiah. Nevertheless, I am not above knowing this particular weakness of the flesh. We must carry it for as long as we cannot purge it.”

Lorelei traced the skin she had uncovered. A small, diagonal scar ran across it. Her fingers ghosted over the nearly-white tissue.

“Will you stop carrying this weakness some day?”

“Where my path leads me is neither known nor for me to decide. Is the subject of my conviction distracting to you?”

She shook her head. He did have a point - if she wants to pretend this was purely an issue of lust, her questions didn’t serve any purpose. 

Full understanding of the other was something she desired, but it would take time - then again, wasn’t this act, no matter how primal, also a way to achieve that?

“I want to make sure I am not making you do anything that could lead to unwanted consequences.” Her response was upright, earnest.

He folded his metal hand over her, pressing it gently against his skin. “I welcome your interest. You have many questions, Ro-” he paused. “Lorelei. Are there any further things you wish to know?”

Her name sounded lovely through his vox. Most other people spoke it with reverence, but hard, as a statement. His pronunciation was soft, giving the syllables equal weight as if trying to hold onto all of them for as long as possible.

“I just need to know-” she sighed, “If this is something you truly want.”

By the Emperor, this was difficult. Not Pasqal, he was usually direct and aware, no, it was sorting her own feelings that brought her close to madness. 

Pasqal seemed to weigh her statement for a few seconds. Enough for her to second-guess herself, something she wasn’t usually prone to doing. 

“Full comprehension of this topic eludes this unit yet. Analysing available data, however, I can conclude that this is indeed something that I want.”

She couldn’t stop the relief from becoming apparent on her face. 

“Then what would you be comfortable with?”

“That is something yet to be revealed to me. I request my mechadendrites to be left alone, as they do not serve the requested purpose. They are my siblings on my path of the Omnissiah, and not to be involved in this.”

“Of course.” Lorelei gave him a soft smile, taking one of his hands and tugging him further into the depths of the bedroom. ”Shall we begin?“

___

With solemn precision, like he did everything in his life, Pascal began to undo the chains hanging around his waist with the heavy metal censer around it. It sank to the ground with a satisfying dull noise against the carpet. His chestplate was carefully placed on one of the chairs in the room, out of the way, projecting the impressive symbol in its middle even when taken off the body.

Lorelei, with much less to shed, kicked off her boots and left them next to the bed - nothing was more annoying than having to take care of those in the middle of the act. She had come into the meeting without armour or jewellery, neither of those needed with the man that had sought her out. 

She sat down on the ledge, backing a little further until she sat towards the middle of the wide bed. It was too big for one person, and having spentspent countless nights alone in it, she was glad to finally use it for something other than sleep.

Pasqal sat down at the edge of the bed, his robes spilling over it like a bloodstain. His shadow fell over her. The light of the huge luster in the middle of the room showered him from above, giving the reflection of all his augments an eerie glow. Lorelei felt unsure, but not uncomfortable, in these familiar surroundings but unfamiliar circumstances.

He was close, maybe closer than he’d ever been. The soundscape of his machines sang her a lullaby, though she was far from craving sleep. She could pull him into a kiss, she mused.

“I might have been overconfident in offering my assistance.“ Pasqal confessed, “No, that is incorrect. I will require your detailed instructions for this.“

Lorelei caught herself playing with a strand of her copper hair, a telltale sign for her fluttering nerves. This was a novelty, for both of them, and haste seemed unwarranted. They could take their time, and she needed to get to know his body as much as he did hers. 

“No, no, it’s quite alright-” she answered between racing thoughts, “I will try my best to instruct you.”

“Thank you.” It sounded earnest.

“I’m not very experienced myself.” She laughed a nervous laugh, but an honest one. She’d had her dalliances before, but nothing that was particularly passionate and didn’t follow a certain scheme when it came down to it. 

She looked down on herself, white blouse sticking out from black trousers and boots. “You could start by taking off my shirt.”

He reached for her, arms long and gaze tender. His fingers found button after button and undid them with the same precision he devoted to every task.

He reached a point below her chest and stopped. Careful, as if fearing to break something precious, he placed a hand over her heart. His fingers rested under her collarbone where her scar ended, and for a moment she could only hear her own faintly thrumming heartbeat.

“Your heart rate is increasing.”

She nodded. The nervosity ate away at her like a greedy bird of prey, but his touch was pleasant enough to endure it. She wanted this.

“That means it’s working.”

A noise came out of the respirator that sounded close to a laugh. She couldn’t help but smile along.

Their eyes met, dark and light green mingling, and they continued in silent agreement. He opened button after button until her shirt hung around her chest and stomach, and finally slid it over her shoulders to the sheets.

Lorelei inhaled sharply, suddenly put on display so openly. Even though she was still wearing her corset and trousers, a sudden chill crept over her, making the hair on her arms stand upright. His hand lingered in the spot where the last button had unfurled, following the way of the garment down to her sides.

She didn’t expect any reaction from the techpriest to her exposure, he was a man of science and metal after all. Still, he studied her with something that could be either simple interest or admiration. 

Lorelei enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on her body. There was something freeing about it. She didn’t feel the need to pose under his gaze like she had for other men, he seemed to take her in exactly as she was and approve of what he saw.

Still she couldn’t help timidly shifting her legs. 

“May I-” she pointed to his hood, cloaking most of his features and disallowing her from seeing what she wanted most.

“Yes.” His reply was barely a breath. For a second, the lights felt lower than before, the room warmer.

Her hands reached to the sides of his head. Fingers brushed against short buzzed hair, pleasantly prickling. With a deliberately slow gesture she pulled the red hood of his robe back, gently placing it behind his neck.

Before she could quite reel herself in she sat up, bending forward. Almost chastely, she pressed a kiss to where the top of his respirator met his nose. His skin was cool underneath her lips. Her lipstick left a small, wine red mark.

It felt like ceremony, to not only devote rite to the metal, but to the flesh.

Her reward was a singular sigh.

Basking in his enjoyment, she moved upward to place a kiss on his forehead. A familiar pressure settled in her core as he wrapped his arms around her holding her tight. His fingers landed on her back. Warm and heavy, his hands pressed into the skin, and she yielded, inching closer to him.

Thought fled her brain, there was only the urge to be closer, closer, closer, and before she knew it she was almost on his lap.

She could feel each exhale of the respirator ghosting her face, and his body heat permeated through the robes as if trying to seep straight into her skin.

Lorelei nuzzled her face into the side of his, the only spot left open by wires and glass. It was a pleasant refuge - the whirring of his machines, the scent of his body - and the hands stroking her back had her enveloped in total, blissful comfort.

Audible breath stole past her lips as the nervous tension in her body eased. 

“Undo my corset.” she commanded, adding a more appropriate, “please.”

There was no one she could rather trust to easen the lacing with mechanical precision, and he undid each clasp with the skill of a servant. Metal fingers clicked pleasantly against each one. It allowed her to exist in the space between them a little while longer, caught in nothing but his arms gently working on her front and back.

The corset fell to the ground, devoid of use for now. Lorelei knew her chemise underneath was awfully thin, barely a barrier to keep away the prying eye. She didn’t need to look down on herself to know her form was easily discernible and her arousal already noticeable in the flush across her chest. 

Yet when she pulled the chemise over her head herself, it was a vulnerable gesture. This is how he must have felt baring her his stigmata. She had nothing of the sort left to show, the scar across her neck always on display. All she had, indeed, was her flesh.

She pressed herself back against his chest to hide her nakedness, not stopping to wait for a reaction this time. 

Almost assertively she ordered the techpriest to see to her pants. He did it the way he had followed all of her orders: with utmost reverence. From the way he unbuttoned them to the care with which he rolled the fabric over her hips and then her individual legs, his work was meditative. He saw to freeing her of her underwear and stockings the same way when she asked him to, finally utterly and completely naked before him. Each of his gestures spoke of a deep respect, and she wished to undress him in the same way when the time came.

She was not sure what would await her under those robes, or if he would allow her to take them off today at all. 

Either way, she was prepared to receive him. He was unconventional, and she was ready to take him as he was. 

When her fingers wrapped around one of the small clasps holding his robe together in front, his hand closed over hers. 

A sign to wait before continuing, or not at all?

Lorelei looked up at the man in front of her. Gently she lifted her hand, and his with it, bringing it to her mouth. In a spur of the moment she kissed the single metallic finger completing it.

Slowly, his finger began to trace the outline of her lips in turn. He wandered over her bottom lip, over the scar adorning both halves, replacing his pointer with his thumb. Almost thoughtful he pressed it into the flesh, seeing her lip yield to his touch and her jaw fall open when he did so.

In a sudden urge of playfulness, she gave it a small bite. He drew his hand back for a second, as if stung by a small animal, but immediately returned. Instead of his thumb he now used both pointer and index to trace the lines of her features, and Lorelei caught herself wishing he’d slip those fingers into her mouth. She could have asked, but seeing where this went naturally was much more exhilarating.

Ever so often their eyes met, and instead of simple curiosity, she could see the same flame burning that had set her alight intermingled with it.

She felt herself burn bright and melt fast under his gaze, and the desire hanging in the air had become palpable.

His fingers dipped into her mouth, just enough for her to taste the metal before they quickly drew back out. Now his hand trailed downwards, leaving a mark of her lipstick over her chin down over her neck where he went.

Lorelei closed her eyes and sighed, pleased. 

His hands began to explore her shoulders. This was what it meant for them both: an exploration. She could feel the way he tried to alternate between harder and gentler touches, the way he tried not to linger in the places her body had suffered lasting damage. She hoped her noises of contentment would serve him as enough feedback.

She liked the way he didn’t focus on her breasts immediately, as others had done before him. Instead he treated her as a whole, diligently caressing with no spot missed. The insides of her wrists proved to be more sensitive than she anticipated, and when he held it gently with one hand and followed the trails of veins there with another, it felt unexpectedly blissful.

“I see now the source of your anomalies,” his voice was a pleasant purr of vox-noise, “the signs are consistent with those previously displayed.”

“Told you.” Lorelei grinned. „Am I allowed to kiss you?” 

He trailed his way up her body over her shoulders, gently caressing her neck with the side of his hands. 

“Affirmative, but not recommended.” There was a slight tinge of something resembling regret to his voice. “Short-term survival is guaranteed. However, status of the skin under the respirator is: damaged.”

She wanted to ask what that entailed, but didn’t want to push the topic either when the night was this young. 

Instead, she leaned back, allowing him more of her, bathing in his attention like a well-fed cat in the sun. He continued his way down and finally - by this point she had been awaiting his touch there, craving it even - his hands found her chest, cupping it lightly. Silver fingers brushed her nipples as if on accident, but nothing really was an accident with Pasqal, was it?  

She didn’t refrain from making sound, rewarding him with soft sighs when his hand moved and gently rolled them between his fingers. 

Once again he leaned in, distance closing, intelligent eyes drinking her in, studying her, and she unravelled just from that inquiring gaze.

The air between them was alight with the heat of their bodies. 

He let go of her, fingers ghosting over the pale delicate skin so devoid of metal, lower and lower until finally settling on her hip. His hold was firm and calming. 

“I request a visual instruction on how to touch you.” Pasqual's vox came out stuttering, but not in any way unsettled. 

Blush crept over her features hot and fast like a fever. Never had she been asked to perform something this private - but with how much she enjoyed his eyes on her, enjoyed the communication that was only between looks, she would not have dreamed of saying no.

“Request accepted, Magos.” Her tone was playful but her breathing quickened slightly. He would see it, she thought, she could not hide her state from him and she did not want to.

She drew back from their entangled position, leaning onto her elbows just far enough for him to see her, enough of her, see what she wanted him to see. Her legs still hung to the side of his lap off the edge of the bed, and she knew that the way it forced her thighs apart left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He placed his hands firmly on her thighs, and it reassured her as much as it spurred her on. 

She wanted to feel those hands over every inch her body had to offer. Instead, she let her own glide over her stomach and navel toward her center. She wasn’t in the mood to waste time on making this a show, and his efforts left her wanting to be pleased. She didn’t take long to find the soft red curls between her legs and dip her fingers below.

Pleasure jolted through her body like electric current were to run through a machine, quick, infectious, lighting its path. She had touched herself hundreds of times before, naturally, but this was one of the few times she truly ached for something. Better yet, it was the fact she was being watched, willingly but distantly, that brought her quite close to the craved oblivion already.

“Start like this,” she pressed out, caressing around but not quite playing with her most sensitive spot yet, the same way she would if she were alone. He watched her body, yes, but most of his time seemed to be spent studying her face. 

How much did he see that stayed hidden to her?

“Then touch me here.” Her fingers began to circle her clit, unable to take his attention without relief any longer. Was it her imagination, or did his fingers dig into her thighs harder than before?

She tipped her head back, slightly overwhelmed with her own pleasure, but steadily watching him through eyelashes painting a blurry picture. Oh, how she wished that damn robe wouldn’t cover everything: she wanted to know if his body reacted the same as hers, if the same flush spread across his skin, wanted to see him, feel him, make him wholly hers.

The way he held her while sitting in front of her spread legs made it look as if he were inside her already.

Her fingers pushed inside her, first one, then two, and she imagined it was not her moving but him. Their heavy breathing filled the air, eyes locked while she pushed inside herself again and again. Discontented quite soon, she pulled her fingers out, slick and despising the emptiness it left.

“Pasqal,” she sighed, name like a prayer on her lips, “Touch me. I don’t care how, just touch me.”

As if the command had awakened him, the Techpriest rose to his full seated height. Carefully he pulled away, instead taking a position leaning over her, and once again she felt deliciously small both under his body and gaze.

Her persistent arousal, now quite obvious, had left a stain on his crimson robes.  

“Apologies.” she looked down on him, not without a smirk, once again placing her hand over the opening of the robe that closed his skin off from her sight. “May I open it?”

Pasqal’s agreement was a melodic hum. His mechanic hand gently pushed hers aside, parting his robes. 

The sight was the same as back when he had shown her his stigmata on the bridge, but back then she hadn't felt about him the way she did now. The memory had passed through her mind more than once. Again the winding unity of metal and flesh revealed itself to her, framed by crimson. 

“I still think it’s beautiful.” she sighed, wrapping both arms and legs around him as far as she could. 

Wires pressed against her, but so did cloth, flesh, metal. Pasqal was a landscape of textures and sounds. She embraced him, felt him, tried to focus on the places the sacred stigmata connected with her skin as well as his hand on her body, pressed against her stomach. 

His robes hung to her side, enveloping them as if a shared being.

And wasn’t this sacred, too? The meeting of opposites in agreement to become one, the contact of flesh, whether true or not, for fleeting moments of harmony.

She didn’t voice any of this, too taken by the moment to speak of something that might conflict with his teachings, but there had to have been a reason why he had agreed to unite with her despite them.

His vox was a fervent purr, hand gently ranking down her body the same way she had done on herself. His path was predictable, he had paid close attention when she had demonstrated after all.

He teased her the same way, avoiding the spot that would bring her close, but by the Emperor, it was worse when someone else did it than oneself. There was difference in knowing you could stop whenever you wanted and being wholly at the mercy of someone else, who might not be so benevolent yet.

His hand was the only thing separating their bodies, her gasps and moans the only thing filling the darkness between them, shielded from the light of the room. The world became her and him, the cloth between her fingers, the bedsheets under her back. 

“That’s good- good.” she managed to press out, panting between breaths, but not much more.

Finally, and how badly had she waited for it, his fingers found her clit and began to draw circles there, first withholding, then slowly increasing. The difference of texture between her skin and his metal was exhilarating.

It felt dreamlike, to be touched by someone she thought never would do so, and though pleasure tried to carry her away like an undercurrent, she tried to keep her mind in the present moment. 

Lorelei wanted to drink in Pasqal’ expression, the knit of his brows, the steady quickened exhale of the vox that betrayed he wasn’t unaffected, and he seemed to do the same to her.

In a moment of passion and little thought, she released her grasp around his neck, hand lading on the respirator cupping his face. 

Yet she halted a few seconds, awaiting indication that it was unwelcome to proceed, but it never came.

Slender finger slipped the respirator and vox down over his chin, forgotten and falling around his neck. Skin damaged by years of wear revealed itself from under it, scars where the machine had sat for so long as well as scars of other origin, patched and sewn but far from small. Lorelei didn’t care, pressed her lips to his before he could think to explain himself to her. 

He gave a little gasp, the first sound of his she had heard not filtered through his implants, and it was such a soft and fragile one that she wished to remember it for all of eternity. It took him some time to adjust to the kiss, long seconds passing in which they simply breathed the same air, connected, but finally he closed his lips over hers in something resembling a kiss.

Just in time with their impulsive affections, his fingers pushed inside her. Lorelei let out a startled yelp, breaking the contact, that quickly turned into a sigh. 

“Keep doing that-” she whispered, one hand back in his robes to clutch it like a lifeline. The other still held his respirator. She decided to indulge in another kiss, letting her lips wander over his and trying to immortalise in the feeling against hers, memorising every ridge of every scar running over each their lips, until the tactile image was burned into her mind.

Once satisfied, Lorelei gently placed the respirator back on his face.

Maybe he thanked her, maybe he said something entirely else, but the words went under as the rush of her own ecstasy pulled her downwards once more.

The feeling of his fingers sinking inside her was breathtaking, though her mind sometimes slipped in and out of imagining it to be something else, and with the time their play had gone on, she knew she would not last long. 

She tried to communicate the same to him, but the words stopped making sense in her head before they came out, and she was sure he’d know anyway. 

Lorelei fell and pulled him down with her, down, down, finger woven tight into the fabric and dragging him towards her. He hung over her like a shadow, one arm to her side, the other giving her seemingly endless pleasure, and she stared into his eyes with tender desperation.

Finally her body bucked upwards, into him, her core tightened, and then all the tension fell out of her at once. The climax came to her gently, the final impulse given. The pleasure spread through her like electric current lighting up nodes one by one until finally too bright to handle, burning the fuse. 

She held him through it, panting something that could have been his name, until the last of it had ebbed away and she sank back into the sheets, exhausted, but content.

It took her several moments to catch her breath, even when he had already withdrawn from her. He remained where he was, mild concern written in his eyes along with something else.

“Do you confirm your satisfaction?”

“Highly.” She stretched her hands, letting them fall besides her head. 

“Initiating the end of the encounter.”

“Wait,” Lorelei propped herself up. “You’ve taken care of me, and it would feel unfair to just-”

“The pleasure of the Rogue Trader takes priority.” he lectured her, “reciprocation can be negotiated at a later date.”

Her face lit up at the idea of a continuation, and the knot in her stomach that had formed when he announced the end untangled as quickly as it had come. It was true that she had plenty more ideas for occasions such as these.

“Accepted.”

“I’ve been informed that the customary end of protocol for this type of activity demands initiating closeness.”

“It does.” A smile spread across Lorelei’s lips. Her lipstick must have been thoroughly ruined by now. “If you would like to share this with me? You’re free to leave, if that is more to your comfort.” 

Her words were tender. She wanted to show him the same courtesy he had shown her, that he hadn't overwhelmed her, had been considerate and almost loving.

“It is a protocol I am honoured to fulfil.”

There was a happy trill coming from one of Pasqal machines as the hulking figure of the Techpriest tried to get comfortable on the suddenly very small bed. 

He rested his head on the pillow against the headboard, mechadendrites neatly tucked to his sides, hands folded over his stomach. It painted a somewhat out-of-place picture all together, much to Lorelei’s amusement.

She curled herself up against him, head on the spot where the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus had been. Underneath, she could hear the workings of a plethora of machinery, ticks and thrums, and deeper yet - a single, steady heartbeat. 

Lorelei listened to it for a while, until the rhythmic chorus under the techpriest’s skin sank her into blissful sleep.

[Ao3 Link]

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 11 - Desperate Times

In an act of sheer desperation, Y/N prays to the one man that is always listening.

(1.3k)

Sam’s head comes clean off with a swift slice to the neck, rolling to the floor with a sickening splat. His knees buckle as his body collapses on the ground, a pool of blood quickly forming around him. His wide, lifeless eyes stare at Dean, the pained look forever painted on his face.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Dean yells with a strangled cry, his body pinned against the wall by an invisible force.

“Wait your turn,” Lucifer taunts, admiring his work with a twisted smile.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” He shakes with anger.

Lucifer shakes his head and laughs like Dean had just told him the funniest joke.

“Sammy…” Dean whispers, unable to peel his eyes away from his mutilated brother. Tears stream down his cheeks, a look of horror and sadness pains his face.

“Now,” Lucifer steps over Sam with complete disregard for what he’s done. “you won't be getting off so easily.” He stops, just inches away from his face.

“I know what you’ve been doing with my lover,” he growls, his irises glowing their intimidating red color. He caresses his cheek with the knife, just teasing the skin.

“Did you think you could get away with it?” He presses the blade just above his cheekbone, leaving a deep gash.

Dean grits his teeth, refusing to show his pain to Lucifer.

“Did you really think she could ever love someone like you?” Lucifer seethes, his face twisting with anger. “She is mine!” He growls. His hand flys up to grasp Dean’s neck, squeezing with an unrelenting force.

Dean desperately gasps for air, his eyes bulging and face turns a cherry red. “FUCK… YOU!” He chokes out, spitting directly in his face.

Lucifer growls and wipes the spit from his face in disgust. Without a second thought, he plunges the blade deep into his chest, taking pleasure in the gush of blood splattering his face.

Dean lets out a strangled scream that’s cut off by him choking on his own blood. His eyes widen with horror before going slack. His head drops forward and his body hangs limply.

“Pity, the game was over so fast.” Lucifer frowns. He releases his hold on Dean and his body slumps to the ground, twisting in grotesque ways. He crouches to his knees, looming over the bloody scene. “But it was fun while it lasted.” He smiles, admiring the gruesome scene he created.

-------------

“NO!” I shot up in my bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. Unrelenting tears stream down my face to the point my vision is completely blurred. My chest becomes tight, my breathing coming in more shallow until I’m full on hyperventilate. My wings curl around me, shaking.

After what feels like hours, I calm myself down enough to get a grip on reality and swallow down my panic. “They’re not dead. Not yet. I can feel it.” For once, my connection with Lucifer is a blessing rather than a curse. “There’s still time,” I reassure myself, calming my nerves.

Jumping out of bed, I grab the phone that Sam had given me for emergencies and dial his number with shaky hands .

“Pick up dammit. PICK UP!” I curse, pacing back and forth as the phone rings.

“It’s Sam, leave a message,” the answering machine says as if it were taunting me.

“We need to talk, NOW!” I leave a message, before disconnecting. I desperately dial Dean’s number, praying that he will pick up.

“This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

“We need to talk immediately! I’m serious, you’re in danger!” I yell into the phone, before disconnecting the call once again.

------------------------------------------------------------

6 hours. It’s been 6 fucking hours since I first called. No response. What’s the point of leaving me a number if you wont even pick up the phone.

I twirl the cheap burner phone in my hand, taking another sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. In times like this, I don’t see the point of drinking from a glass, I’d only have to refill it countless times.

I clumsily dial Sam's number again for what must be the hundredth time today. At this point, the sound of his voice on the answering machine practically burned into my brain. 

“It’s Sam, leave a message.” 

“FUCK!” I yell, just barely resisting the urge to smash the phone on the ground to pieces. I down the last of the bottle, still not feeling as drunk as I would like to be.

I can’t stop my brain from running a million miles per minute, replaying the thoughts that have plagued my brain for hours. I’ve considered the possibilities over and over, every single course of action I could possibly take. It all leads to the same conclusion. I know what I must do.

Calling up Dean’s phone for the last time, I pray that he answers. The phone rings and the last bit of hope that I hold onto slips away as the familiar recorded message plays.

““This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do.”

I sigh and pause for nearly a minute, unsure of what to say, before I bite down my fear and start talking. “Dean, I’m not sure what to say, but I want to leave you one final message. You and Sam are in serious danger. I had a dream that Lucifer kills you both, and I can’t let that happen. I know what I have to do,” I pause for a second. “I’m going to give myself over to Lucifer in exchange for your lives. I’ll ensure Castiel gets home too. This is my mess and I have to be the one to clean it up.” I fall silent, choking back the tears that threaten to spill. 

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I’m sorry it ends like this. I’m sorry for everything. I’m just… I’m so sorry Dean. I wish we never got into that stupid fight, I wish I could've told you how much I care about you, how you make me feel things I can’t explain.”

“Tell Sam, thank you for everything,” I sniff.

“I guess this is goodbye Dean, take care.” I end the call, the line goes dead with a long beep. I smash the phone on the ground, broken pieces shooting off in every direction, releasing just a smidge of the pent up frustration that I have been holding onto.

I wipe my eyes and put on my best poker face. I take one last look around at the bunker. It had once been an unfamiliar prison that I was confined to, but now, it’s like the home I’ve always desperately craved. A deep sadness radiates through my core as I give one last goodbye to my home and the only family I've ever had. I find my way to the exit, shutting off the lights and closing the door behind me.

Stepping into the outdoors, the sun shines high above the sky and thick foliage extends around me, as far as the eye can see. The fact that I am really in the middle of nowhere truly sinks in as I take in the world around me. The soft wind blowing in my hair is a feeling I had almost forgotten in my time hidden away in the bunker. The crows in the tall mossy trees caw and the mourning doves coo softly, perhaps the last sign of innocent life I'll see for a long time. 

I close my eyes and pray to the one man that I know is always listening. “Okay Lucifer, come and take me. I’m ready.”

In a matter of seconds, the sound of wings flapping rushes through the wind and Lucifer stands tall before me. He’s covered head to toe in what I can only assume is Cas’s blood.

“Hello my love.” He gives me a cocky, but sweet smile. His eyes gaze into mine with an adoring look. “Just couldn’t resist, huh?” He chuckles. “I always knew you’d come back to me.” He places a hand on the small of my back and in the blink of an eye, the world spins and I’m taken far away from the bunker.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Tags: @roseblue373

[qogoist]

Jae Romance now LIVE - A Rogue's Gambit

Former smuggler and pirate Alethea has become the new Rogue Trader. Along with her trustworthy(?) retinue she must navigate the complications of her new position. Not an easy task! And made harder when she catches feelings for the charming Cold Trader Jae Heydari. Drama and Intrigue abound!

[dreamofbona]

rewrite the stars - sim jaeyun

summary: Choi Y/N has always dreamed of being an idol, and now her dream is coming true. As part of monster rookie girl group MAJ1K, she’s topping the charts, performing incredible stages, and feeling love from fans. She’s willing to do anything and everything to live her dream as an idol, and following the dating ban isn’t supposed to be an issue. She cares more about being an idol than she cares about love… until she meets Jake. From bumping into each other in company buildings to congratulating wins to eventually becoming MCs, she starts dreaming of something else. 

alternatively: can anyone resist sim jaeyun? + he likes you back. except you’re idols so drama.

pairing: jake x idol fem!reader

other characters: enhypen, kim chaewon, huh yunjin, jang wonyoung, txt, other hybe + starship artists

warnings: swearing, management is kind of evil so maybe threats of sabotage (will edit as we go along)

word count: 4.1 k

Chapter Two:

Your fancon is a success. Both nights sell out, and livestream tickets have been sold in the hundreds of thousands. Now, you and the girls are gearing up for your February comeback. You’re releasing another mini album - Love is Magic - on Valentine’s Day, and everyone at Tunez is stressed. This album has to be a hit after your successful debut. So far, pre orders have surpassed those of your debut, and it feels like everyone has their eyes on MAJ1K.

Days pass in the studio, in the practice room, and eventually you’re filming the music video for your new title track - ‘Black Magic’. It’s a song about using magic and falling in love. Typical bubblegum pop love song. You like the song, it’s fun and lively, and you think the public will like it as well. However, you hope that you’ll get to help write on the next album. You really want to perform music that you can relate to, that helps express you.

The comeback is teased and promoted, three concepts and member versions of the album have been announced and prepared. You can feel the stress radiating from your team whenever there’s a meeting: everything has to be perfect, this release has to be the release of the year. 

You’re grateful for a strong team that supports you as you want to do well, you want to leave a mark in the industry. At the same time, however, you hate that chart numbers and money are determining the direction your music is taking. You don’t want to make music for the charts; you want to make it for yourself, for your members, for your fans.

You keep your mouth shut, knowing that there’s no point in saying anything. You’d signed the contract willingly, chasing your dream of debuting, and nowhere in the contract did it say you could take part in deciding your music. You’d made your bed, and now you had to lie in it.

So days blew, and pretty soon it was comeback day. The comeback would be released on what was the evening of February 14th in Korea. All day you were restless, nervous for the public’s response. You knew they would like it - the title was a fun, light song that people would enjoy - but part of you was wondering what would happen if they didn’t. Would Tunez give up on MAJ1K? You thought of less popular groups under HYBE, under Starship, and the lack of attention and promotion the companies gave to those groups. What if MAJ1K ended up like them?

You were sitting in a lounge in the Starship building with the girls, all four of you at a circular table in comfy chairs, occasionally sipping the drinks in front of you. Wonyoung and Chaewon had iced Americanos, Yunjin had an iced Chai latte, and you had an iced caramel latte. You loved iced caramel lattes, but you were having a hard time touching your drink today. Your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you were gonna vomit. 

“Ah, look who it is,” you jumped at the sudden noise. You and the girls had been quiet, scared of saying anything in fear of somehow jinxing your album release. You were also the only ones in the lounge, so it had been incredibly quiet. Until now. “Our juniors. Big day today, huh?” 

You looked up to see one of your seniors in Starship, WJSN’s Dayoung. She was currently sporting a head of blonde hair, long and wavy, down a few inches past her shoulders. She had a big grin on her face, eyes bright and lively. If you knew anything about Dayoung, it was that she was always energetic and loud. You wondered how she did it.

“Are you scared it’ll flop?” she asked.

“Hey, Dayoung, don’t say that,” you turned, coming face to face with Exy. You freeze. Exy is only one of the most talented idols in the industry (you don’t understand how more people aren’t fans). She not only leads, raps, and dances, but she also writes and produces the majority of her group’s music. WJSN are unique in the industry in that sense - their leader is part of the writing process for many of their songs. You admire that about them. You also really admire and look up to Exy - one of the reasons you liked Starship and wanted to be under them was to get the opportunity to write and produce with her one day. 

“The company won’t like it if you stress our juniors out,” she continues. She then addresses you and the girls, saying, “Don’t worry, this comeback will do well. I heard it and it’s amazing, just what the public needs.”

You don’t say anything, not trusting your mouth to work.

“Also,” adds Dayoung, “it’s not like you can do anything about it anyways. At this point, what will happen is what’s meant to happen. If it flops, it flops, no big deal. You can always do better next time.”

“So you think it might flop?” asks Yunjin, eyes swimming with anxiety.

“No, what I meant-” Dayoung starts, before Exy interrupts her.

“It won’t flop. Trust me. Don’t trust her,” says Exy, playfully hitting Dayoung’s shoulder, “she’s a maknae. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Age discrimination,” is all Dayoung says. She then glances at her phone, sighs, “Nice meeting you. I have to get going.”

You bow in response. 

“I should probably go as well,” says Exy. “Don’t stress too much, though. And next comeback, we should get in the studio together. I’d love to work on a song with you all.”

You all bid her farewell, and then you’re in shock. 

“Writing a song with her?” Yunjin says. “When will our next comeback be?”

Chaewon laughs, “Slow down. We haven’t even had this one yet. I’m assuming the next one won’t be until June at least. It shouldn’t be till August, really, but this company is pushing us so much it might happen as early as June.”

“I can’t wait,” Yunjin decides. “I need to work on a song with Exy sunbaenim. We can win Song of the Year together.”

You shake your head, “And here I thought you were an artist. Pitiful. Going after awards.”

Yunjin rolls her eyes, “Come on, we all know you want a SOTY. We all do.”

You shrug, “It would be nice. Won’t go out of my way for it, however. Award shows are always so political. Look at the Grammys.”

“Fair point,” says Yunjin.

“I wonder if we could win an award with this comeback,” says Chaewon. “That would be nice.”

You shrug, “I hope we don’t. I want to win an award for the music we took part in.”

Chaewon frowns, “Don’t you want the group to be successful? If we win an award with this album, maybe we’ll get a longer break. Maybe they’ll get off our backs.”

Your leader sounds exhausted. Now you understand why she wants to win.

“You have a point,” you say. 

A few hours pass, conversation here and there, mostly silence. Pretty soon, you and the girls are in a van, on your way to Mnet for your comeback show. You get dressed, get your hair and makeup done, and then it’s go-time. 

You perform the title track (‘Black Magic’), as well as two b-sides you’re promoting. Fans cheer loudly, waving their lightsticks - the official lightstick had been released shortly before your fancon, it was shaped like a wand.

The comeback show goes well, and you think your management are satisfied - you made a point to sing live whenever you could. 

It’s in the van on the way back to your dorms after your first promotion that Wonyoung looks up from her phone with a smirk. 

“Guess who went live an hour ago and started talking about us?” she asks, holding up her phone.

You squint at the phone, making out the letters. 

“Jake sunbaenim talked about us again on live?!” exclaims Yunjin. “We all know why.”

You sigh, “Unnie, he doesn’t-”

“He likes you,” says Chaewon.

“Well then he should say something,” you say.

“You know it’s not that easy,” says Wonyoung. “He seems so sweet though, and he won’t shut up about you.” She scrolls on her phone, before showing you stan Twitter. “He specifically mentioned the part of the song where you have a high note. He said that’s his favorite part.”

Admittedly, you like hearing that. You feel incompetent sometimes compared to the others - Chaewon and Wonyoung are well-known, established idols, and Yunjin is trained in opera, and therefore known for her vocals. You love them, you’re proud of them, but you feel talentless sometimes next to them, so hearing that makes you feel warm inside.

“That’s sweet,” you say.

~~

You happen to be in the HYBE building the following weekend. You’ve successfully completed your first week of promotions (2 more to go!) and are in the HYBE building for practice, a meeting, and content shooting.

“Y/N! You must be exhausted from promotions, huh?” you’re sitting in one of HYBE’s lounges with the other girls - you have an hour to yourselves as you’ve finished your tasks for the day. “Hello everyone.” Your brother walks in with a grin on his face.

“Hi,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

“Comeback preparations,” he says. “Don’t tell anyone,” he glances around, “but we’re having a comeback in May.”

“Nice,” you say, “have you started on the songs?”

Soobin nods, “We’re working on the songs right now. I’m really excited for these songs, they’re coming together really well. We also have some fun concepts, switching it up a bit from our last era. They’re also planning a tour for us, so that’s exciting as well.”

“That’s great!” you exclaim, happy for your brother. You’re glad that he’s so excited about his career, and his music. You hope that you can feel the same way about your music one day.

“The comeback was excellent,” he continues, “the title is doing well on the charts. I’m streaming faithfully everyday.”

“Aww,” says Yunjin. “Thank you. I didn’t know we had such dedicated fans at HYBE.”

Soobin laughs, “You do. We’re not the only ones, ENHYPEN are pretty enthusiastic about you all as well.” he says, glancing at you. “Anyways, I have to get going. Fighting, girls, for your promotions!” 

You all thank him, and he leaves. 

“Maybe he knows something we don’t,” says Chaewon. 

“He’s friends with them,” you say. “ENHYPEN sunbaenim, I mean. Him and Heeseung sunbaenim were pretty tight when they were all trainees.”

“So we have someone on the inside,” Yunjin says, and you all laugh. 

Soon enough, it’s time to head back to the dorms for the day, and you’re walking in the hallway when you bump into him. Of course. 

“Oh, hi,” says Jake, before bowing politely. You bow in response, and he goes, “Congratulations on your comeback. It’s really good, I listened to it.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“We listened to your latest comeback as well,” says Chaewon, “Dimension: Answer. Y/N’s obsessed with ‘Polaroid Love’.”

Jake smiles, blushing, “Thank you, that’s great.” He then turns to you, “So you’re listening to our music now?”

You nod, looking at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact. “I’m pleased that my seniors make good music.”

He chuckles, and it’s music to your ears, “That’s nice to hear. Well, I don’t want to hold you all up, you must be tired, promotions and all. Have a good evening.”

You all thank him, bidding him farewell, before leaving the building.

Later that night, you find yourself looking for Jake’s most recent live. You can’t help yourself - you want to hear it for yourself. You find it easily enough - it was the group’s most recent live, and Weverse is a relatively easy platform to use.

“Hi everyone,” Jake says, waving to the camera. He’s smiling. His golden hair is unstyled, bangs falling onto his forehead. “We’ll just wait a bit for more people to join.”

You watch, waiting, and after what feels like forever, Jake finally starts talking. He thanks his fans for their support, he updates him on himself, on ENHYPEN. He then starts responding to fans who are typing in the chat.

“Ah, I see someone mentioning MAJ1K. Yes, I did listen to their comeback, it’s really good.” He turns slightly, doing something offscreen. Next thing you know, ‘Black Magic’ is playing, and Jake is vibing. “Yes! Let’s dance everyone!”

It’s endearing - Jake is doing parts of the choreo in his seat, and fans are filling the chat with dancing emojis.

He’s so sweet, you find yourself thinking. You can’t argue with it either - he’s promoting your group, and being so kind despite no obligation to be. He’s just a nice person.

The song continues playing, and Jake pauses right after the high note, rewinding and playing it again. He laughs, “That’s such a great bit right there. It’s my favorite part of the song.”

You’re smiling at your phone now. You just got complimented by one of your seniors, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I knew you liked him,” you jump, startled when you look up to see Wonyoung.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you say, dramatically putting a hand over your heart.

“Did I? Where is it?” she retorts, and you roll your eyes. “I just came here to tell you that we’re planning on watching a movie together in the main room. So quit looking at Jake for 5 seconds and spend quality time with your best friends.”

You frown, pretending to look confused, “But my best friends are back in Ansan?”

“Hey!” says Wonyoung, playfully hitting your shoulder.

“I was just joking. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You better,” says your maknae, before walking out of your room.

You look at the live one last time, at the joy in Jake’s eyes, and the way his hair is shining, before sighing and putting your phone down. 

~~

You find yourself looking for Jake after that night. You wonder if there’s a chance he tagged along when you appear on Music Bank. He isn’t there - obviously - but you feel like you’re getting a piece of him in your interview with Sunghoon - the blonde mentions how much his group is enjoying MAJ1K’s comeback.

MAJ1K also gets a longer break after the comeback, and your next comeback isn’t scheduled till July.

July.

ENHYPEN has their comeback scheduled for July as well.

You can’t help but grin in the meeting, and you know it shocks your team - February to July is still only 4 months, not much of a break - but you don’t give an explanation.

You’re not supposed to like that MAJ1K and ENHYPEN are promoting at the same time. But you do.

~~

Manifesto: Day 1 takes everyone by surprise. In the best way possible.

You’re shocked at the change - their title tracks no longer have hyphens, and the song itself is so different from what they usually do. You like it though, it feels cool and powerful. 

You get to watch them perform ‘Future Perfect’ and ‘TFW’ from backstage on Music Bank, and when all the promoting idols are crammed on stage to see who’s winning an award, you find yourself looking at Jake. 

His hands are interlocked in front of him, head tilted downwards. You think that his eyes are closed - you can’t tell because of his visor. When ENHYPEN wins, he jumps up, seemingly taken aback, before throwing his head back with a smile and embracing his bandmates.

You make eye contact with him while walking off-stage, and send him a smile. He smiles back, nods to you.

ENHYPEN do their live celebration, and you hear fans cheering loudly. You’re happy for them.

“Look at her, she’s not even sad that we lost,” says Yunjin. 

You sigh, “I guess you guys were right.”

“About time you admitted it,” says Chaewon. “I’m happy you’re not lying to yourself anymore.”

“Me too,” you decide.

~~

It’s later that day that you bump into him in the hallway. There’s no one else around - most people have left for the day - and your groups are getting ready to leave. You’re heading back to the green room from getting a bottle of water.

“Oh, hi,” it’s the stupidest way you could’ve greeted him.

“Hello,” he says. “Nice performance today, I’ve loved your comeback.”

You blush at the compliment, “Thank you. Your comeback has been amazing as well. ‘Shout Out’ is an incredible song.”

He grins, “I’m glad you like it. I got to help write it.”

“I heard,” you say. You don’t mention that you’d read his interview, and that you know which specific lines of the song he wrote. “That’s really cool.”

“Ummm,” he puts his hand in his pocket before pulling out his phone. He hesitates, nervous, before handing it to you, “Could I have your number?”

“Sure,” you say, putting it in.

“I just figured,” he starts, trying to offer an explanation, “Um, I like talking to you, so maybe we can talk outside of our random encounters?”

“I’d like that,” you say. “Text me.”

Jake smiles, “I will.”

~~

So you and Jake start texting. It’s pretty casual at first, congratulating one another on wins and promotions, but it quickly turns regular and deep. It becomes conversations about your favorite songs, about why you chose to become idols, dramas you’re watching, what you want for your next comeback.

You find yourself confiding in him, and he confides in you, and it feels nice to have someone outside of your family and outside of your group that you’re so close to.

You’re especially happy to be texting him once he goes on tour. You’re able to stay in touch with him, and he tells you all about performing for international fans and trying deep dish pizza and going shopping in an American mall.

You update him on the industry in Korea, about who had what comeback, and you update him on your own promotions.

After your July comeback, MAJ1K gets a few weeks off from promotions, before promotions start for a Japanese album. Your Japanese album is released in September, with Japanese versions of a few of your songs with an original Japanese song. You promote it, interviewing and signing copies for fans.

In October, MAJ1K has another fancon. In October, ENHYPEN are on tour in the US.

In November, MAJ1K make an appearance at KCON in Japan, where ENHYPEN have a few tour stops. You meet up with Jake for dinner one evening, the night after his birthday.

“Happy belated birthday,” you say, handing him a nicely wrapped box.

“Thank you,” he says, accepting it. “What is it?”

You shrug, “Open it later.”

He nods, putting it to the side.

Dinner with Jake is nice. It’s your first face-to-face interaction in months, but it feels like no time has passed. And even though you both swear that you’re just friends, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to go out with him romantically. How would dinner be on a date with him?

“Thanks for meeting up with me tonight,” says Jake. “I’m glad we got to have dinner.”

“Thanks for wanting me at your delayed birthday celebration,” you respond, and he chuckles.

“Of course I’d want to have birthday dinner with you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I had a good time tonight. So, when is MAJ1K getting back?”

“Our flight’s the day after tomorrow,” you say. “Tomorrow’s a break day, rest up and sightsee. What about you?”

“We leave tomorrow evening,” he says. “Well, see you next in the HYBE building?”

You nod, grinning. “See you at HYBE.”

He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating something. “Could I…” 

“What?”

He shakes his head, “Nevermind.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “What is it?”

“Um…” he looks uncomfortable. That’s a first. “No, nevermind.”

“Okay, then,” you respond. “See you, then, I guess.”

He nods, “See you.”

~~

“He celebrated his birthday with you, he obviously likes you,” is the first thing Yunjin says to you when you get back to the hotel. You and Yunjin are rooming together.

“Hello to you, too,” you respond. 

Yunjin rolls her eyes, before saying, “So, how was it? Romantic, candlelit dinner?”

“Romantic? No. Candlelit? Yes,” you respond.

Yunjin shakes her head, “No. Candlelit dinners are inherently romantic. It’s a cliche in the genre of romance. You’re just in denial.”

You shrug, “If I know I like him, I’m not in denial.”

Yunjin gasps, “When were you gonna tell me?”

“I thought you already knew.”

“I did,” she says, “but I was waiting for you to admit it to yourself. Once you admit it to yourself, you can actually do something about it, ya know?”

“I can’t do anything about it,” you respond. “I’m an idol. He’s an idol. You’re an idol, so you should know.”

“You can just keep it a secret,” she says.

“We have eagle-eyed fans, and so does he. Besides, there’s also Dispatch.” 

“Not in the HYBE building,” Yunjin points out. “What happens in the company building stays in the company building.”

“I guess,” you shrug. “But I don’t even know if he likes me back. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Yunjin sighs, “Have I not told you how obvious it is he likes you?”

“You have, but you’re my friend,” you argue.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Yunjin said. “Like you said, I’m your friend.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to think about this right now. Relationships, I mean.”

“We can talk more in the morning,” says Yunjin.

~~

You don’t talk in the morning. You also don’t respond to Jake’s text. It’s him asking if MAJ1K would be interested in hanging out with ENHYPEN as they have free time before their flight in the evening. You feel bad about it, but you leave him on read. You’ll make up an excuse later.

“So, how was your date last night?” asks Wonyoung over breakfast.

“It wasn’t a date,” you say, “but it was nice.”

“And I’m the queen of England,” mutters Chaewon.

You roll your eyes at your leader. 

“Has he texted? Since your dinner last night?” Yunjin asks.

You nod. “He was talking about us and them hanging out today. They’re flying back tonight, but besides that they’re free.”

“So when and where are we meeting up?” Chaewon asks. 

“We’re not,” you respond. “I haven’t responded yet, and I’m not planning on it.”

“Why?” Yunjin asks. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do,” you respond. “That’s why. I don’t want to be near him. It’s too much for me. We’re just friends, and I can’t deal with that.”

“You could change that if you talked to him,” Wonyoung says, but you shake your head.

“Even if he did like me back, it wouldn’t work out. It’s not a good idea. It’ll just get really messy and ruin everyone’s careers in the process.”

~~

You get a few more texts from Jake throughout the day.

jakey: are you guys busy? we still have a few hours… (1 pm)

jakey: well, we have to go now. see you back at hybe? :) (5 pm)

jakey: getting on the plane… i’ll stop annoying you… for now… (7 pm)

You feel bad for leaving him on read, but you don’t know how to respond. You don’t want to respond. 

The next day, you get another text from him wishing you a safe flight. 

You don’t respond.

~~

You don’t see Jake again till a few weeks later. It’s the New Years Eve Live performance, and it’s rather ironic that you bump into him there. It’s where you’d had your first conversation with him, and now, you saw him again there after avoiding him. The universe seems to like forcing you two to talk on New Years.

You’re walking to the green room with the girls, having just finished performing. ENHYPEN are passing by you in the hallway, getting ready to get on stage. 

“Y/N.” It’s your name. You recognize the voice. You’d recognize it anywhere.

“Hi,” you say. 

“I have to go right now,” says Jake, “but we’re talking after my performance.” He looks dejected, and you feel bad.

You nod.

“Hyung!” Jungwon calls him, and Jake turns to follow his group. The rest of the ENHYPEN members send him smirks, teasing looks. Except for Ni-Ki, the maknae, who looks at you, before looking at the ground. He looks annoyed.

You walk into the green room, nervous. It’s stupid, really - you and Jake were/are friends. You shouldn’t feel nervous. 

You also feel awful - he looked sad, and you know it’s your fault for ignoring his messages. 

ENHYPEN’s performance feels like an eternity. And then it’s over. 

jakey: let’s talk

taglist (send an ask/dm/comment):

copyright: this is my original work, so don't steal/copy it. i appreciate your cooperation on this matter.

[heisttheblackflag]

Let's get ready for Alfreyco Appreciation Month!!

For Alfreyco Appreciation Month, I’ve assembled a list of prompts to use as inspiration for your art, writing, or whatever else you want to make! The month will be officially starting on June 18 and ending on July 15, and each week has weekly prompts listed with their dates below. (If you’re not able to finish your piece(s) until after the 15th though that’s totally fine; I want this to be fun and chill for everyone so feel free to post whenever you can!)

The first group below is a bunch of prompts intended for posting at any point during the month. Feel free to combine any of them, and use them for any kind of media you want!

Following those are all of the weekly prompts, which will also be posted individually at the start of every week. There are two kinds of prompts intended primarily for writing (one combination of prompts and one single prompt), and one that is intended more for visual art! Please don’t feel obliged to write or draw something for every week, but if you do choose a weekly prompt it would be great if you could post it during that week so that everyone doing that prompt can talk about your work together! <3

During the month itself, you can post all works on AO3 to the Alfreyco Appreciation Month collection, and tag “Alfreyco appreciation month 2023” or “Alfreyco month 2023” on Tumblr so we can see and reblog your works!

I hope you all are as excited for this as I am!! As always, dm me with any questions, thank you so much for sharing and contributing, and I’ll see you all in June!!

Free prompts:

Pining + “red string of fate” trope

Soulmate + reincarnation (“in every lifetime I will find my way back to you”)

Fake AH Crew sparring practice

Friends-to-lovers, person A is a prince and person B is their loyal bodyguard (bonus prompt, there’s an attempt on the prince’s life and they have to figure out who it is)

Wearing each other’s clothes

Investigating a paranormal situation which turns out to be a spirit that’s trying to matchmake them together

Friends-to-lovers, person A stands up for person B to B’s terrible ex-partner when they see how poorly they’re being treated

Hit men/assassins au

Minecraft au [a classic!]

One-shot within a YDYD season (could be Minecraft or Seven Days!)

Hurt/comfort (e.g. sick fic, FAHC post-torture or injury, rescue from a murderous cult…)

Werewolves/shifters/monsters/cryptids

Helping each other escape from being kidnapped or taken as hostages

They’re in space!

They’ve become the MCs in your favorite movie!

They’ve become the MCs in your favorite video game!

Week 1 (June 18 - 24):

Writing Prompts - paired prompts: zombie apocalypse au + fluff/sweet moments

        single prompt: person A is a witch/magician looking for their human familiar/assistant, and they unexpectedly encounter person B

Art Prompt: post-apocalypse

Week 2 (June 25 - July 1):

Writing Prompts - paired prompts: cowboy/Wild West au + heroic rescue

        single prompt: strangers trapped in a room together for a seemingly unending amount of time (either by violence outside or extreme weather)

Art Prompt: sheriffs or gold prospectors

Week 3 (July 2 - 8): (Red Web’s three-year anniversary is this week!)

Writing Prompts - paired prompts: Red Web actual investigators au + “Run! You have to keep running!”

        single prompt: person A gets kidnapped under mysterious circumstances and person B goes after them (potentially revealing scary/bamf side of them they haven’t shown before)

Art Prompt: inside the Red Web canon! (aka if they actually were the leaders of a mystery-solving taskforce)

Week 4 (July 9 - 15):

Writing Prompts - paired prompts: fantasy au + facing off with the big bad together

        single prompt: person A is easily scared and gets paired with person B to go through a haunted house together Art Prompt: high fantasy archetypes

[brawlina]

New Chapter for Odd Trios and Things

A Domestic Dream (Piper, Rico, R-T)

(Piper x Rico)

[tinysillylemonman]

Enjoy a bonus chapter of Just Barely There, but written three years late and based off my very foggy memory of the show. :D

—-

It’s amazing what one could do when armed with explosives. Guards? Royalty? Citizens? Nothing a little explosives and armed criminals can’t fix.

Paved streets became littered in rubble and a choking alabaster dust, homes were caved in to reveal what would’ve been quaint dinner tables and gardens. People were left in shock, all the easier for their capture and the handy reuse of prison cells. The queen and king were tied to the same fate, just a few levels below their people, left to count the etches on the walls and smell the iron of dried blood.

In short, after a few quick witted words and total domination of the kingdom he hated, Andrew was doing much better than he had been two days ago. He and the Saporians were on top of the world, so what if they had to carry around a mentally unstable kid too? They’ve gone through worse in pursuit of their ambitions. Andrew just wished that the kid would keep his mouth shut.

“…And when we find him? I’m gonna make him realize just how wrong he was about me! That’s right Flynn Rider, I’m on top of the world right now! Well, uh- we. We’re on top of the world. Eheh… Anyways, I’ve been thinking that I should have facial hair, y’know to match the whole look we’ve got going on…”

Good Sun could this kid fucking talk. Kai was the appointed listener while they picked through the rubble of what might’ve been a marketplace? Eh, the specifics didn’t matter, just finding what the kid needed for their next step did. They’d quickly found that they didn’t need to restrain the kid or anything to keep him close, he latched onto Andrew as quickly as a baby duck, which suited Andrew’s purposes all the better. Shuffling through the rubble took time, which made Andrew nervous. The what ifs of outside support or unfound citizens catching up to them was in all senses illogical, but he couldn’t help it. This was too easy to be this good.

“Hey Andrew! We found something!”

And it kept on getting better.

Andrew ambled over to where Clementine and Juniper stood, eagerly awaiting praise or reprimand. People were just so easy to control, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Just give them a dollop of approval or a look of disappointment and they would fall all over themselves to do whatever he asked. Tell them that it’s for a good cause, that surely if you work a little harder and listen to me more the people will forgive you, or Saporia will rise, and they are as docile as sheep. Bracing himself on fallen lumber and jumping over bricks, he made his way to see what the girls had found. Hm.

“Varian!” He barked, interrupting the kid from his ramble and turning his attention back to the container found. The kid stumbled towards him, eager like a puppy and nervous as a fawn. “What’s up Andrew?” Oh how he loved that fragile sense of causality, “Take a good look at this kid”. Andrew smiled at him, not warmly like a father appraising a job well done, but instead like the cat that got the cream, wolfish and not unlike a predator. But Varian didn’t know the difference at this point. The object found was a woven container made of wheat straw, labeled simply with “luminescent powder”. Andrew didn’t much care for this container, but rather what it meant. This particular site was the remnants of some sort of alchemy shop, and held precious resources for the Saporian cause.

Varians eyes were the size of saucers, oohing and ahhing at the prospect of new materials. At least the kid caught on quick. “Wha- are these- I mean…can I use these?” Varian’s mouth was in a comical gape, gazing down at what would be the first of many new and expensive materials. Andrew had him hook…line…

“Of course Varian! Why do you think we were degrading ourselves to scavenging for Coronan goods? Don’t be shy, take whatever you need, we’ll even help you carry it all!” He could feel the disgruntled looks from his compatriots burning into his back, but that could be soothed later. Varian whipped his head back towards Andrew, who surely looks liked some sort of saint providing for the poor and needy fourteen year old criminal. The boy’s face was split in half with a look that hadn’t graced his visage in a very long time, a beaming, gap-toothed smile.

And sinker.

.

.

.

Hugo hates slayer wolves with a burning passion, he’s decided. Of course Flynn fuckin’ Rider’s ego could get bigger, why hadn’t he known that fact sooner? Silly him! It was Flynn Rider’s hubris that led to Hugo being held upside down by some magically inclined tree branch, displayed like a jester vying for the king’s laughter. The king in this case is the culprit himself.

“Ok, yeah, laugh it up Rider. This is truly the peak of comedy!” Hugo shouts, and no dear reader, the heat in Hugo’s face is not due to embarrassment, he’s far above something like that. He’s just suffering from his body’s content of blood heading straight for his head. Rider is on the ground, in such a grand fit of laughter that he could be mistaken for a man attempting to imitate a ship in tumultuous seas. His girlfriend is standing next to him, smiling warily and waiting for her partner to return to sanity. The peanut gallery is standing to the side and actually trying to help Hugo out of his predicament. They’re not making very much progress on that front unfortunately.

“You’re damn right this is! Sun”, a choked wheeze interrupts Rider’s bout of clamor, “I think we should just leave you there! maybe you’ll get smarter from all that blood going to your head!” Hugo growls and swings himself closer to where Rider is. “We’ll at least I’m not a pathetic pampered lap dog who can’t even find his way around a-“ Hugo is cut off by the last person he thought would stand up to Rider, the princess. Oh this would be good. “You two need to stop fighting, we can’t get anywhere with you two quarreling constantly! Sure, you’ve screwed each other in the past, but none of that matters now! We’re all working together so I’d like you two to act like it!” The man with the earring hoots from his spot by the offending tree’s base in support or agreement, or maybe even both.

And to Hugo’s surprise, Rider listens. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks. Rider picks himself up and cuddles up to the princess, apologizing. But Hugo knows that he’s not genuine. The grin on his face when the princess is satisfied and hugging him is evidence.

“As beautiful as that moment was, unfortunately the power of friendship will not get you very far here.” A husky and confident announces from above- and is that a RACCOON???

.

.

.

Now dear readers, we of course know that this woman is set up to be our knight in furry armor, Adira, accompanied by her newfound companion Ruddiger. But our starring cast of misfit found family is none the wiser to this notion. Because we have the knowledge of who this remarkable figure is, I’ll spare you from the details of her introduction and in the spirit of brevity, inform you that our current narrator Hugo is an astute follower of the idea that “an enemy of my enemy is my friend”.

.

.

.

Hugo is quickly becoming very fond of this Adira. Sure she’s a bit odd and confusing, but he’s worked with worse when on prior assignments. The caravan is being pulled slowly along the path of the “Forest of No Return”, Adira is at the head of this odd procession, followed by Hugo, who is trying to learn about this new ally in annoyment as much as possible.

“What’s the rat’s name?”

“If you’re talking about the raccoon, then I’m sorry to say that I do not know”

She slashes stray branches with her (super fucking cool) sword and takes a left turn into an identical looking portion of the forest. Hugo scrunches his nose at this acknowledgment and continues his jog in pursuit of her. “What, the all-knowing Adira doesn’t even know the name of her animal companion? Hm, I guess that you’re not as wise as you let on.” Hugo knows this song and dance like the back of his hand, banter is his second nature and his most used tool. Annoyance is just another result that gives him entertainment and intel. But Adira is stoic, smoothly keeping her pace and not batting an eye. “It is not in my knowledge that rodents are able to communicate their names to people. This fellow came to me well-fed and groomed, I am sure that he has a home and name somewhere, maybe even multiple. I however am not keeping him around long enough to require that sort of connection. I may not know his name but call him Bandit, much like how I call each of you a nickname. I find that terms based off of physicalities are much more useful than learning everyone whom I meet’s name.”

Hugo perks up at the mention of nicknames, “Hey now, you can’t just mention that you have nicknames for all of us and not tell me what they are! What am I- Actually no better question what’s Riders?”, he grins devilishly. Adira chuckles and decides to indulge in his childish curiosity. “You my fellow are Stringbean,” she points at Rapunzel who floats curiously closer and closer towards the duo, not-so subtly eavesdropping, “she is Sundrop”, Adira points at Lance, “he is Earring”, she points at Cassandra, “she is Short Hair” and finally she points at Rider, “he is Fish Skin”.

An indignant yell comes from Rider, who hilariously falls all over himself to contest the (aptly chosen) nickname. Hugo gets a good laugh in, and when it’s later just him, “Bandit”, Rider, and Adira left to find the lost caravan, he decides that the little guy deserves a proper name for the time being.

“How about…Smokey?” The raccoon shakes its head.

“Freddy?” Rider offers, to which the vermin actually hisses at.

“Hector?” Adira muses, again with another head shake.

“Ok! Lighting round! Theodore, Clifford, Gadget, Pluto, Alastor, Dill, Bones, Fin, Pippin, Stew, Chase, Bard, Rufus, Ricky, Wallace, Ruddiger-“, the raccoon perks up and starts chittering excitedly, making admittedly adorable cheering motions. Hugo grins and lifts the newly named Ruddiger off of Adira’s shoulder and cradles it in his arms. “Ruddiger? I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Rider moves his hand to pet the raccoon’s fur, but is swatted at and promptly denied any further proximity. “Well I’d hope so,” Hugo snarks, “any good fan of the ‘Adventures of Flynn Rider’ knows the con-man shopkeeper Ruddiger Jordan, Flynn Rider’s reluctant father figure and-“ he’s cut off by a man with the very same name. “His grumpy mentor, yes I know. I guess that’s where I heard it from. No need to lecture me kiddo”. Hugo sneers at the interruption and drops the raccoon to stare at Flynn directly. Does this guy wanna go? Because he can GO and he’d actually hit a growth spurt recently so he is feeling good about he chances-.

Adira and Ruddiger exchange eye contact and sigh.

.

.

.

This kid is fucking ridiculous. After having praised him, tucked him into bed, read him a story, and KISSED HIS FOREHEAD, he’s finally asleep. Andrew is so glad that it’ll only be a month or two until he can drop the kid and get into the real crux of his plan. Of course he wasn’t going to just settle for taking Corona, no, a man with as much charisma and as good of looks as him was meant for bigger better things. Next he could take Koto, or Ingvarr, or maybe even see if that wife's tale about the Dark Kingdom is true. Yes, Andrew is going to dump Varian, and he is going to enjoy every moment of the betrayal.

Fuck did he get that luminescent powder on himself?! The kid’s hair is glowing for Sun’s sake! Andrew turns over in bed and covers his head with a pillow. This will be a long night.

[neva-borne]

Guess what I just updated folks!

Yep. That's right. Over a year since my last update and almost exactly two years since I first posted the first chapter, I have finally, finally finished the scene that spawned this whole damn thing in my head and has had me stuck for over a year with writers block.

Please enjoy.

[ricihh]

Dionysus Angelo is so..... 🥵🥵🥵

Rating: E

Fandom: Brawl Stars

Relationships: Angelo/Brock, Angelo/Male! Max, Angelo/Male! Nani, Angelo/R-T

Main tags: Oneshot, Smut, PWP, Kinktober, Bukkake, Legends of Olympus AU, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/Other, Cock Slut, Genderbending, They/them pronouns for Angelo

Warnings: None!

Summary: When the wine ran out at their party, Dionysus Angelo was at a loss as to what else to do to keep their guests entertained.

They had an eccentric idea after noticing how hot the remaining gods on the dance floor were.

[sagemoderocklee]

director’s commentary on rts

ok last one for tonight and then i need to sleep. answering this cause i was just thinking about this the other day so it'll be easy... also spoilers for anyone who hasn't read this fic yet.

so this is about the last scene of ch4

i could be entirely wrong but i felt like a lot of people missed that the scene was not a like generically cute moment of Gaara and Lee making breakfast (obviously punctuated by Lee's guilt), but that Gaara was actually interrogating Lee throughout the scene.

it starts with asking Lee if everything's okay, like that's really the moment for the audience to kind of go 'gaara knows something is up'--again someone might have picked up on this i just dont recall any comments being left that pinpointed this.

and obviously something IS very much not okay with Lee but he's trying to playing it cool (and failing miserably). but Gaara basically spends this scene all the way until Lee ditches him to go riffle through his things basically quietly pleading with Lee cause he knows Lee's up to something.

gaara is absolutely happy to see Lee, and obviously from the audiences perspective this is bittersweet, but it's like doubly so because Gaara is basically saying this knowing Lee's got ulterior motives and quietly asking him to just... not do whatever he's doing.

but 1 Lee is oblivious and 2. gaara is the kazekage so he still does need to know what's going on and cue the interrogation

The 'so soon after your promotional mission' is pointed. this is when gaara is starting to dig for information because he knows Lee is trying to get promoted and he knows that promotional missions give temporary Jonin level clearance. did Lee actually get promoted? and did he really only take two weeks on his mission?

even this line is more of Gaara hinting that he knows something is up:

obviously at the face of it he's genuinely saying that lee has skills he doesnt have, but he's also saying there's something Lee is doing now that Gaara cant do. Gaara trusts Lee completely, but he now realizes he shouldn't.

when gaara encourages Lee to boast, it's a tactic to get Lee to slip up. if he's boasting about a false achievement, he's more likely to misspeak. Gaara knows Lee's a terrible liar, so he's egging Lee on in the hopes he'll reveal something

when gaara is talking about how much faster Lee is than Sonic Boom (unaware as he is of Sonic Boom being Lee's target and that is really is dead), Gaara uses the present tense to talk about said target. in other words, he's telling Lee he's faster than Gaara himself because at this point Gaara believes he is the target of Lee's promotional mission. and of course this continues with the next line:

and then gaara goes in for the kill with this:

but Lee's answer isn't really enough, and gaara worries lee's going to catch on if he keeps questioning him so he lets up but not without a warning:

and then this last line from Gaara in this scene:

it's true. he told Lee he wouldn't tell Kakashi right then and there, but Lee obviously isn't aware of what Gaara means here so when he returns to Konoha injured and heartbroken, he's assuming Gaara's going to go to Kakashi with what he did. but Gaara is at the end of this interrogation, still in love with Lee and still hoping that Lee will change his mind about whatever he's there to do. in Gaara's mind, he's basically said 'i know you're up to something, please whatever it is don't do it, and kakashi need never know'

it's not Lee's imagination in the next chapter when he separates from Gaara at the birthday festival and thinks Gaara is worldlessly asking him not to go through with his plan.

Gaara really is asking Lee not to do what he's about to do. Gaara didn't just stick close to Lee for the pleasure of his company during his birthday festival. he was very much keeping an eye on Lee, and when Lee suggested they separate, Gaara knew it wasn't innocent. he let Lee get as far as he did into his study because he had to be sure.

there were no hidden seals being tripped to alert Gaara to a break in--there certainly would have been but in this case he didnt need an alarm to tell him what he knew was coming--he simply suspected long before Lee began riffling through his mail (and again the first scene of ch5 with Gaara letting Lee see where his mail went was also again part of Gaara trying to figure out what Lee was up to. because Lee was being soooo obvious that he was interested in the mail, so Gaara let him follow him into his study to see where he'd put it)

ultimately, Gaara thinks the promotional mission is related to intelligence, not his own physical person, but it's still an obvious breech of trust both personally and politically. and in a manner of speaking depending on the intelligence it could impact Gaara on a personal level because obviously if Lee uncovers any of Gaara's political plans that go against the Kaze Daimyo it could be disastrous for Gaara...

Anyways! thats the director's commentary for RtS ch4-5! hope you enjoyed!

[leonardalphachurch]

okay jason said he’d be sharing his spec scripts AFTER the company officially dissolves so i’m not sure if those dropbox links will be granted access until then BUT the grimmons one on his twitter is public

EDIT: the post now links to a google drive! the scripts are available GO FUCKING HAM

it’s. canon grimmons fanfiction. i’m losing my mind.

EDIT: I’m seeing less people misunderstand this on this post, but to be clear, this script was NOT cancelled because of RT being shut down. This is a part of Weight’s ALTERNATE PITCH for season 18 that was not picked up by RT. It was not ever intended to make it into the show proper. It is, unfortunately, not actually canon, just a sneak peek into an alternate timeline where Jason was hired to write season 18 instead.

Thank you.

[heisttheblackflag]

Hello and welcome to the beginning of Alfreyco Appreciation Month!!!

Every week for the next four weeks I’ll be posting some themed prompts for this week for both writing and art, and if you’ve created art for those prompts you can post them throughout the week so we can share everyone’s takes on those ideas! Don’t forget to use the tag “alfreyco appreciation month 2023” on Tumblr, and post to the appreciation month collection on AO3 if you wrote fic.

As a gentle reminder, these prompts are for both general and shipping media, so please be respectful and if you see something that’s not your cup of tea, just move on until you find something that is! 

Here are the themed prompts for this week:

Writing Prompts - paired prompts: zombie apocalypse au + fluff/sweet moments

single prompt: person A is a witch/magician looking for their human familiar/assistant, and they unexpectedly encounter person B

Art Prompt: post-apocalypse

Thank you all for sharing and contributing, and I can’t wait to see what everyone makes!!

[antelopunny]

May we dance? (art by soonielo)

Yrliet holds out her hand, fingers beckoning Tiffney closer. “May we dance?” “Huh?” Then, “wait, really?”

The hopeful disbelief is followed by a splash of water, enthusiastic and loud around Tiffney’s feet. She takes Yrliet’s hand, and in the depths of the soul, her elantach feels warm-- undeniably alive. “Yes. Let’s dance.”

@soonielo drew this BEAUTIFUL art of my Rogue Trader, Tiffney von Valancius, and Yrliet Lanaevyss from Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader! The scene is from Chapter 9 of my RT/Yrliet fanfiction, gossamer of starlight.

Check out artist's socials here: linktree

HAD A SUPER GREAT EXPERIENCE COMMISSIONING THEM!!! JUST LOOK AT THIS ART!!!!!! MWAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[fuchsiareign]

This fic is so good! Just the right amount of angst!

A Dogmatic Rogue Trader and Marazhai fic

Just a one shot for these two but might have more planned in the future.