#the whole mystery wasn’t all that enticing

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i don’t think i have any strong opinions about the spring broken comic ngl 😭

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 3 - Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My! (2)

ITACH X ALPHA!READER

Summary: Having immensely enjoyed your first day with Itachi in his pocket dimension, you were excited for the hunt for potions ingredients to begin. You didn't expect to come across a green monstrosity in the woods, nor a flock of unusually persistent old people, but all the shenanigans were worth it because you finally, finally managed to get your mouth on those beautiful nipples! GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple!Naruto Characters

Word count: 11.7k

Warnings: N-sfw content. Vague references to a murder. At one point, MC believes that there is some non-con going on, but is mistaken. All alphas have penises, fyi.

A/N: Hmm, I think it's still too early for Happy Holidays wishes, although December is almost upon us. To those who didn't see the announcement, I'm cutting the third book from this series to elongate the first two. So, this is now the second of three Itachi parts. He is really holding out for the majority of the porn being in part 3, but Itachi is a classy guy like that. The mysterious book 2 love interest doesn't feel the same way lol. I hope you all enjoy it, and as always, this is for @omeganronpa 💞💞

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

The next morning had seen the search for the ingredients for the Amnesia Reversal Potion begin. You had felt a little bit bad that Itachi was putting in so much effort to make a functionally useless potion, but you figured the story had to go on someway, and you couldn’t deny that it had been immensely fun to do a magical scavenger hunt.

Itachi had dedicated a wooden tray to keep all the ingredients together, which now sat in the corner of the living room. It was almost full after the two weeks of buying, finding, and gathering you’d gone through, covered with pots and bottles and bags stacked on top of each other.

Itachi had said that the potion was extraordinarily simple to make but had an eye-wateringly long ingredient list. You could tell that he was a little baffled by the whole thing, but it all made sense to you; him having to hide away in his study for a month to brew something delicate was decidedly not sexy, but your joint excursions had proven themselves rip for horny scenarios.

During the last two weeks, your relationship with Itachi had also progressed significantly. You hadn’t gone all the way yet, although the steadily increasing tension was certain to burst soon, and you hadn’t added a formal relationship label to anything, but the way that stolen kisses and sleeping in bed together had become the norm said a lot.  Neither of you acknowledged that Itachi now seemed incapable of sleeping unless he was directly on top of you either. When you had taken a midnight walk on one of the nights, unable to sleep, to stare out of the kitchen window, Itachi had found you in only three minutes and sat with you until he could entice you back into bed with him. With his loose, messy hair and revealing pyjamas that seemed determined to slip off his shoulders, it hadn’t taken very long.

What? You were a simple alpha, and a warm, sleepy omega’s charms were simply too strong to resist.

Itachi was so much more domestic than you could have imagined, now that you’d broken down his walls. He was softer, less stoic, desperate for praise and companionship. He still refused to let you cook, cooking for you every night, constantly trying to perfect new recipes despite the limited number of supplies available to him in the dead of Winter. Some dinners were just as good as the stew from day one, and some weren’t. Itachi was experimenting, you understood that. He wasn’t as experienced a cook as you had originally believed, but you still heavily praised every attempt just to watch him purr.

You shook yourself out of the memories of Itachi’s cooking and instead crouched down in front of the ingredient tray, mentally checking each ingredient against the recipe pinned to the wall above it. Most of the ingredients on the left side you had grabbed on the second and third days, as they’d come directly from Itachi’s own stores.

You smiled, tracing the tops of the bottles and remembering that he had literally fallen into your lap or arms no less than three times while retrieving them.

“I don’t know why I stored the apple seeds so far towards the back of the top shelf,” Itachi said, huffing as he tried to stretch his arm as far as it would go. You only sighed, amused, and knowing full well that the porn logic had made it so. You were holding the base of Itachi’s ladder steady, but you knew that what was about to happen wouldn’t be stopped no matter what precautions you took.

“I’ve almost got it… Almost… Ah ha! Eep!”

Itachi’s foot slipped out from under him, toppling him off the top of the ladder and into your already waiting arms. You were glad to see that the jar filled with apple seeds was clutched tightly in his hand.

“Hey beautiful,” you cooed, adjusting the princess carry a little. “I think I’m going to have to get rid of this ladder, because I can’t have you falling for anyone else.”

Itachi scoffed, cheeks blooming pink. You grinned down at him, and his fake annoyance melted into pure affection. You probably looked like a pair of lovesick fools.

‘Ah, you did an excellent job of delivering that line, human, all that practice in the bathroom mirror certainly helped!’

‘James, you’re ruining the moment.’

‘My sincerest apologies human. Perhaps to salvage the moment, you could use another falling themed pick-up line in order to encourage your omega towards behaviours associated with playful sexual aggression?’

‘James—’

‘Xethrofeth recommended this one, “I enjoy safe sex, shall I tie you to the bed so that you don’t fall off?”’

‘James!’

You smiled, remembering the moment. The best moment though, was when one of the ingredients required Itachi to crawl into the tiny loft space in the ceiling. He had emerged covered in dust and sneezing like a kitten, and then, after his shower, he had approached you with a towel and brush to help him dry his hair.

You dragged the boar bristle brush slowly through Itachi’s hair as he sat on the bed in between your legs. His silky black hair was thicker than it looked, and watching the brush glide through it was enchanting.

Itachi shivered as the bristles tickled his back. His head twitched like he was trying to resist the impulse to bare his neck to you.

Bathed in candlelight, warm while a storm raged on outside, just existing in a comfortable silence… you felt content.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words escaped you without your permission, but as Itachi turned to face you, his newly dried hair fanning out around him, you didn’t think he minded.

“So are you,” he muttered, leaning forward to connect your lips with his.

That kiss had become so heated that it had taken everything in you to resist going all the way. Itachi seemed a little put out that you stopped things from progressing, but you wanted to go slowly. The slow build up of tension was delicious.  An orgasm was always more rewarding if you’d been denied first, and you were determined to apply that logic to the entire relationship. And so, you had gone to bed as normal.

Well, it had been mostly normal. Itachi had spent most of the night grinding on your hip in his sleep. You had almost given in and woken him up, but you had managed to resist.

You turned your attention to the middle of the tray now, counting each little bag or newer bottle that had been bought from the market in the nearest town. Now, that excursion had been fun. It had been a pretty long walk, but with warming charms on your clothes and Itachi’s delightful company, the walk had flown by.

The town had been incredible and just remembering it made you want to go back as soon as possible. It had felt like walking around the best historical reenactment in existence, except real, and also smelling better than you imagined the actual past would. It made sense though; if food intolerances were too inconvenient for erotica, piss and body odour certainly were.

Although, you admitted, that would probably depend on the kind of erotica.

Regardless, the town setting introduced just as much porn (and cliché romcom) logic as Itachi’s cottage. You weren’t exaggerating when you said that every single old person had something to say about you and Itachi being the cutest couple. Itachi had insisted on walking with your arms linked ‘in case you got lost’, so you couldn’t really have faulted the old people for assuming you were a couple. What you had been taken aback by though was just how bold they had been. You had met horny older people before, but that had been on another level.

“Oh, look at you two,” the old lady running the exotic goods stand said. “I can tell that pups will be along for you two soon enough. I have an eye for these sorts of things, you see.”

You and Itachi stuttered, verbally falling over each other as you tried to deny any such thing. This didn’t deter the old lady for one moment.

“Although, here’s a tip from me: some people insist on the missionary position for conception, but doggy has a far better success rate in my experience. Ernest’s shop on Main Street sells plugs if you’ll be needing one to—”

“Um, can we just have 50 grams of crushed snake fangs please!”

…

“Oh, Itachi dear, you’ve brought an alpha with you!” said the old man running the bakery cheerfully. “Although” -he squinted at you both- “no mating mark yet.”

While you picked out some bread, he pulled Itachi aside to whisper in such a way that meant you could hear everything. You couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not.

“Some advice from back in the day,” the old man ‘whispered’. “This pressure point here on your palm will supress your gag reflex.”

Ironically, you almost choked as soon as you registered those words.

…

“Oh, an alpha! I’m so glad, Itachi, I was scared you were all alone out there,” the old person at the grocers said, quickly untying their apron to give Itachi a hug. They then turned their gaze to you. “You treat him right, or I’ll have something to say about it, you hear?”

You had a feeling that no amount of explaining that you weren’t technically together would help, so you just nodded, “Of course.”

The person smiled, mollified by your words, “You know what they say about omegas, dearie, make their legs shake, not their hearts break. Words to live by, in my opinion. And if you can, invest in one of those fancy magic vibrators. They’re a little pricy, but more than worth it in my book, especially if you have a talented witch like Itachi on hand who can charge them for free. Why, I said to my wife just last night, I said—”

“We should probably get going,” you said, dumping the vegetables you needed on the counter. “It’s a long walk back, y’know?”

Itachi had been horrifically embarrassed all day, but paradoxically he also seemed to bask in the positive attention. In fact, he had been wearing a pleased little smile under his rosy cheeks for most of the day as acquaintances congratulated him on entering a relationship.

What had pleased Itachi less though, was the very flirty omega who worked in the tavern, where you had stopped for a bite of lunch.

“Let me know if you need help with anything,” the waiter said, letting his hand linger on yours as he took your menu. “Anything at all…”

Itachi immediately bristled at the obvious flirtation. The fact that Itachi was obviously bothered was satisfying. You knew full well that if you stayed in this universe, you wouldn’t be straying from Itachi, but it was still ego boosting to have such a pretty omega ready to defend his claim on you, needed or not.

“That’s alright,” Itachi said, voice and face tight. “We’d rather be left alone to enjoy our date.”

Oh, so that was how he was going to play it. You didn’t correct him on it being a date, more than willing to let the situation boil a little for your own ego and amusement. You wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t intervene.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waiter said with an obvious fake surprise. “Let me bring you some waters then.”

Itachi settled a little once he was gone, but he made a point of conjoining your hands on top of the table so that everyone could see. You gave him a squeeze but decided to save the teasing about your ‘date’ until you had returned home.

When the man returned, two glasses in hand, his beige shirt had been thoroughly drenched in water and was now completely see through. His nipples, which you could now tell were both pierced, were clearly visible.

He laughed as he approached the table, “Sorry, there was a bit of an accident in the kitchen. Here are your waters.” He put both the glasses down and then carefully and deliberately placed down a little scrap of paper down in front of you. A quick glance confirmed that it was an address, likely his.

Itachi stood, growling. He grabbed the piece of paper and tore it in half and threw the pieces to the ground. The waiter only watched, amused.

‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ you were chanting in your head thoroughly amused.

James did not speak and yet her presence in your mind felt judgemental.

Regardless of her feelings, your plan to watch things play out changed anyway when Itachi’s eyes bled to red and his intentions seemed to switch from instigating a cat fight, to committing a murder.

“Hey, Itachi,” you said, trying to sound light and unconcerned even as you were silently ‘what the fuck’ing in your head. “Why don’t we take our food to go and have a nice picnic on the bench outside? You look so beautiful with snow in your hair, and with these amazing cloaks that you designed for us, we should be nice and warm.”

Even you could tell that you were laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to work, as Itachi dropped the outward aggression for something more akin to proud posturing. He sent a satisfied smirk at the other omega, who only rolled his eyes.

“I’ll bring you your food to go then… Insecure omegas always demand such things.”

Itachi bared his teeth, eyes bleeding red again. You decided to step in.

“We didn’t ask for your opinion,” you said, putting a hand on Itachi’s shoulder to hold him back. “Please just bring us the food we paid for.”

Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, the waiter huffed and returned to the kitchen.

‘Interesting,’ James said in your head, thankfully without the earlier judgement.

‘What’s interesting?’

‘This situation didn’t escalate like this in the other three trials for Itachi that I’ve witnessed.’

‘What, really? How come?’

‘I am not sure. Perhaps Itachi just finds himself more attached to you than the others. None of those three picked him, of course, so perhaps they were also less attached to him than you appear to be.’

That had made you happier than you wanted to admit, and you had ended up returning to the cottage with a skip in your step and Itachi’s arm linked around yours.

To summarise the last two weeks though, things had been very romantic, and filled with so much genuine connection and sexual tension, that you felt like you were about to burst. You had seen so much of this pretty omega: his passion for magic, his love for his brother, his beautiful nipples, you mean, his beautiful home.

You were enjoying the slow burn and teasing so much that you almost wanted to drag it out further. You probably would if you weren’t so worried that the demo would suddenly end before you’d had a chance to go all the way with Itachi. James still wasn’t giving you a straight answer about how much longer you had in this world.

‘Enough time,’ she would say.

‘Time flows differently in these worlds,’ she would explain.

‘Are you really so eager to leave?’. That last one stopped you from asking altogether lest she start thinking you wanted to be pulled out early.

The point was though that today was the day that you had decided to properly confess and try and seduce Itachi. Your skin tingled with anticipation and saliva started to pool in your mouth as your thoughts ran wild. Yes, you had both waited long enough and you were quite literally hornier than you’d ever been.

But today was also the day that you were going scavenging in the woods for the final three ingredients. You had to do that first, but as soon as you returned, you would use your alpha charms on Itachi. Nothing would get in your way.

Behind you, Itachi stepped into the living room from the kitchen, a little basket of supplies packed and ready for your journey.

“Moss found on a blackwood tree, five leaves from a thizzberry bush, and two seeds from an Amplexus plant?” you read off the remaining ingredients that weren’t yet on the tray. “Are those going to be difficult to get?”

Itachi hummed, slipping on his cloak and holding out yours, “The last one might be a little complicated, but there’s nothing dangerous, I promise.”

You stood, gratefully taking the warmed cloak and wrapping it around you. Ready to go, you took one more glance at the ingredient list before joining Itachi by the front door. He was frowning down at the basket of supplies, lips pursed.

“Are you okay?” you asked, poking him on the nose to pull him out of wherever he had gone.

Itachi blinked, before sending you a smile, “Yes, sorry, I feel like I’ve forgotten something important, but I can’t remember what.”

“Have you got the stuff to collect what we need?” Itachi nodded. “Have you got snacks and water?” He nodded again. “Have you got emergency first aid supplies?” Another nod. “Then it can’t be that important, right? That’s all the main stuff.”

Itachi took a deep breath, still looking a little conflicted, “You’re probably right, let’s go, the days are getting shorter, and I don’t want you out after dark.”

You pulled open the door and held it for Itachi to exit first. You were rewarded with a smile that made you want to kiss him senseless, but he wasn’t joking when he said the days were short, so you supressed that instinct for the moment. Later, you reminded yourself, you’d get the pretty omega into bed later.

The snow crunched under your feet as you stepped outside, and your breath suddenly became visible. You took a moment to take in the view of the snowy trees surrounding the little clearing you were standing in. Despite the temperature, the charmed cloak was keeping the worst of the chill away.

You pulled the front door shut and startled some nearby birds, which then took flight, scattering clumps of snow onto the ground.

You appreciated the beauty of your surroundings; you didn’t think you would ever get bored of living here.

“Which direction first?”

“Towards the mountains,” Itachi said, looping the basket through one arm and grabbing your hand with the other. You gave your conjoined hands a little squeeze of acknowledgement and then allowed Itachi to lead you. Walking in the snowy woods had given you some trouble at first, but after half a month, you’d literally found your footing and were able to keep up.

“Itachi?” you asked, as you walked in the direction that Itachi had pointed out.

“Hm?”

“Can you tell me something about your childhood? A story, maybe? Something nice. I want to learn more about you.”

“Oh, if you’d like me to, then I don’t mind. How about… yes, this one is good: my best friend was called Shisui, and he used to play pranks all the time,” Itachi said slowly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Sasuke was his favourite target, I think, because he always reacted violently, but mother and I often intervened to protect him, so Shisui targeted me most of all. It was easier, I suppose.

“There was a girl in our village that liked me. I was too oblivious and busy to notice at the time, but everyone else knew. My mother thought it was sweet, even though my father would never have allowed me to court a beta. Shisui however, thought it would make for an excellent prank.

“He doodled mine and the girl’s names all over a piece of paper, joining our surnames and putting hearts everywhere, even writing lists of possible pup names. He then slipped it into the pocket of some trousers in my wash bin, as if I had been the one to write it.

“The next day, when my mother did my laundry, she found the paper and of course, believed it to be mine. There was no amount of begging and pleading that would convince her that it wasn’t, and believe me, I tried.”

Itachi chuckled, and you let out an amused breath, imagining how embarrassed a teenage Itachi must have been.

“When did you figure out it was Shisui?”

“It only took me about five minutes to figure out that it must have been him playing a prank, but my mother wouldn’t hear it, and she was insufferable about my ‘crush’ for several months.”

You snorted, “That’s a good story. Your mother sounds funny.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Itachi said, sending you a bright grin. “I think she’ll like you a lot.”

You laughed, “Let’s think about getting my memories back first, then we can handle the family meet and greets, okay?”

You watched as the amusement drained from Itachi’s face. You tried to keep the conversation going, but Itachi no longer seemed to be in the mood. You continued to search for the ingredients mostly in silence, with occasional descriptions of what exactly you were looking for.

You wondered what was wrong, but there never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.

It ended up taking less than an hour to find both the moss and the leaves, even hidden amongst the snow, but according to Itachi, Amplexus plants only grew at the base of the mountains, so it had taken another hour to even get close to where he thought one might be.

You had entertained yourself by swinging your hands back and forth and asking Itachi questions about the world once his mood seemed to lighten again. You loved James, but Itachi’s explanations were significantly more helpful. You’d learnt the names of all the nearby settlements, a rough run down of what they were like, and roughly how far away they were. You were making extra careful notes of which on you’d claim to be from when the time came for your ‘memories’ to return.

You were in the middle of asking Itachi about what kind of pets existed in this world when Itachi suddenly stopped, eyes squinted towards your left. You stopped too, falling silent immediately.

“There!” Itachi said, voice hushed but still excited. “I think I can see one. Follow, but stay behind me.”

Here, in an unfamiliar and vaguely unnerving snowy forest filled with unknown entities was not the time for you to start exercising your alpha bravado, so you obediently followed three paces behind Itachi, remaining alert all the while.

You were out of your element, so caution was the best approach. You imagined that broken bones were also not sexy enough for an erotica, but you could only rely on the world so much; there had to be a level of stupidity that would overcome the narrative safety nets, and you didn’t want to find out what level that was.  

The Amplexus plant came into view as you rounded past a tight cluster of trees. It was not something you would have seen in your world that was for sure, although it did remind you a little of a giant Venus fly trap, with slowly swaying, green appendages, each capped with larger, circular parts on the ends. Much to your horror, it was about the size of a bear.

At its centre of the plant were the seeds you had to collect. They looked a lot like pumpkin seeds but were each the size of an orange and suspended in some sort of purple, translucent organic pouch. You and Itachi somehow had to get your hands on two of them.

“This one is backed up against a tree which isn’t ideal,” Itachi said, studying the Amplexus from a distance of about three metres. “I’ll have to approach it from the front.”

“Is it dangerous approaching from the front?” you asked, anxiously pulling the cloak around yourself.

Itachi shook his head, “Not dangerous, just not ideal.”

‘James?’ you asked, struck by an awful sense of dread. ‘Is the Amplexus plant sentient?’

‘I cannot answer that question without four botanists, a linguist, and at least half a politician present, human, my apologies.’

Great. That meant yes. Nothing non-sentient had that much debate around it. You were just going to let Itachi handle this and hope nothing went wrong.

Speaking of Itachi, he was currently pulling a wrapped parcel out of the supply basket.

“Hold this please,” he said, passing it over to you. You took it easily, tucking it in the crook of your arm. “Please stand back and don’t approach the Amplexus, no matter what happens.”

You swallowed nervously, “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

Itachi opened the parcel revealing a chunk of raw red meat. Delicately, he took it out and passed you the empty wrappings. You watched, entranced as he laid the meat flat on his palm before muttering a spell under his breath. The red meat lifted gently off his skin, like it was being carried by an invisible force, and floated over to the Amplexus plant. Itachi followed behind it, but as the red meat floated towards the right side of the plant, Itachi tread carefully towards the left.

Your heart felt like it was beating a bruise onto the inside of your throat. You had no idea what was about to happen. Everything was agonisingly slow, until suddenly it wasn’t.

All at once, Itachi used his magic to fling the raw meat to the right of the Amplexus plant, while he darted towards its left side. The tendrils that had been swaying rhythmically suddenly jumped to life, snapping towards the red meat. Your comparison to a Venus fly trap was strengthened when the thicker end part of the largest tendril yawned open, before snapping down on the meat with a loud, and wet sounding slap.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Itachi was now right beside the plant. He reached quickly in and grabbed two of the seeds, one in each hand, before kicking off the ground to propel himself backwards to make a hasty escape.

Seemingly finished with its tasty morsel, the Amplexus plant returned to its original position, where it suddenly gained awareness of Itachi. He was already two paces away, the Amplexus seeds clutched in his hands, but that didn’t stop the plant from trying to grab hold of him.

You watched, frozen in place, as the tendrils lurched towards the witch. It was going to be close. You gripped your own cloak in your fists, tense, but unable to help. Itachi was fast, faster than you would have guessed.

But ultimately, he wasn’t fast enough.

Two tendrils managed to wrap around his upper arms, immediately tugging Itachi backwards towards the main body of the plant. You heard Itachi’s gasp of surprise, and the thump of the Amplexus seeds hitting the ground as he let them go. More and more tendrils shot forward now that Itachi was caught and aided in tugging him back, wrapping around his legs and torso.

Itachi struggled for a moment, trying to pull his way out and rip the tendrils off him, but once he was pressed against the body of the plant, being held in place by at least sixteen plant tendrils, Itachi seemed to accept his fate and all the fight bled out of him.

It was at that exact moment that you realised what erotica trope this was.

‘Oh my god, James, what the fuck?’

‘That was phrased as though it was a question, but it is not one I know how to answer, human.’

“Ah!” Itachi gasped, as the plant tendrils covered all his visible body from the tops of his shoulders to his ankles. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I, ah, I thought I could grab the seeds fast enough, but, ah, it caught me.”

Itachi seemed to be treating this as a minor inconvenience, but for the first time since arriving, you felt completely unbalanced by the porn logic here.

How could Itachi be okay being… touched… by that plant against his will? You were aware that this was a fairly common and not unpopular trope, hell, you’d even partaken a few times in your lowest moments, but to make it real? It didn’t seem right. You clenched your fists into your cloak as you reached a decision. No, you wouldn’t stand for it. You were going to defeat this hentai monstrosity and defend Itachi. No plant would touch him without consent if you had anything to say about it!

You dropped the basket and wrapper to the ground and grabbed the first thing you saw that could feasibly be a weapon: a hefty, gnarled stick.

“How do I kill it?” you said, whirling around with the stick and holding it up menacingly towards the Amplexus plant.

“Kill it?” Itachi said, sounding more alarmed by that than whatever it was currently doing to him. Only his face was visible now, as most of the tentacles writhed around his body, barring the largest one which seemed happy resting on top of Itachi’s head. “These plants are already so rare; you can’t kill it! I’ll be fine. I’ll just give it what it wants, and it will let me go.”

You deflated at his words. You felt awful just standing by, imagining all the things the plant might do to him. Itachi let out a little squeak and you had a sneaking suspicion that his rapidly reddening face wasn’t from the cold.

“Itachi, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?” you asked desperately. “Anything at all?”

Itachi only blinked at you, brows furrowed, as though he were confused by the anxiety in your words. “Oh!” he said suddenly, face melting into a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot that you have no memory of the local flora.”

Itachi paused for a moment as the tendril resting on his head decided to tug out his hairband, releasing the inky waves around his face. He sent the plant a glare and shook the hair out of his face as best as he could.

“Amplexus plants don’t hurt people,” he continued. “They just really, really enjoy hugging humans.”

You blinked at him, trying to comprehend what he was telling you.

“It’s giving you a hug?” you asked, blankly.

“Yes, and it will release me in a moment, I promise.” Itachi squirmed again as the tentacles around his chest tightened and the largest one gave his head a rub.

Now that you weren’t as panicked, you realised that the way the tendril on his head was touching him was more affectionate than anything. It was bumping up to him, nuzzling, and giving him pats, almost like an over eager dog, except in the form of a writhing mass of hentai plant tenacles.

“Oh,” you said, relieved, dropping the branch. “I thought it was, um, touching you.”

Itachi’s blush darkened but he shook his head, “It’s just a hug.”

You huffed, “You scared me! With the way you were trying so desperately not to get caught, I thought it was something bad.”

“I won’t lie… it is a bit inconvenient, and I had hoped not to get caught, but I suppose it’s too late for that now.”

“Will it be holding you for long?”

“No, no more than around a minute longer, I should imagine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, feeling much better about the whole thing, “That’s not too bad.”

“Well, the problem is less the time and more of the effect of the hug,” Itachi explained sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “You see, Amplexus plants secrete a substance that doesn’t interact well with most fibres used for making clothes.”

“It’s damaging your clothes?”

“In a way, yes.” You got the distinct impression that if he were not currently pinned by a giant writhing mass of plant tentacles, Itachi would be fidgeting a lot more than he was. Certainly, his face was only getting redder as the conversation progressed.

You didn’t have to ponder his answer for long, because at that moment, the tendrils suddenly withdrew, (the main one giving him a couple more head pats for good measure), leaving Itachi sitting on the floor at the base of the plant.

An unharmed, but incredibly, and shockingly naked Itachi was revealed to you, his bare butt nestled in the snow.

Of course the plant had dissolved his clothes, you thought, a little hysterically. You didn’t know why you had expected anything different in this whacky dimension.

Itachi bashfully tried to stand, already shivering, while keeping one hand firmly covering his crotch and the other arm braced across his (still beautiful) nipples. You had a wonderful view of his blush creeping down his chest. His nipples must have been incredibly hard from the cold—No, not the time.

But as much as you enjoyed the view, you weren’t going to let your omega freeze because a random plant had got too enthusiastic. You took off your cloak, now the only one you had between you, and went over to Itachi (avoiding getting too close to the plant, of course), bundling him up in the warm fabric and helping him get to his feet.

“There you are darling,” you said softly, clasping the cloak around his neck. Itachi used his hands to keep the fabric pulled tightly to his body. Now that you didn’t have your cloak, you were grateful that Itachi had insisted on charming all your clothes for warmth like the mother hen he denied being.

‘There. You can’t say I’m not a respectful alpha, James.’

‘Why am I forbidden from making such a claim?’

‘Because I just gave my cloak to a naked omega in need!’

‘Human alpha, you’re staring at his hardened nipples through the cloak right now.’

You jumped when you realised she was right, and hastily averted your eyes with an awkward cough.

‘No comment.’

Itachi shivered and you dropped the connection with James to rub his arms with your hands to warm him up. At least he still had his shoes, otherwise you’d have been carrying a very naked Itachi home. On second thought, that didn’t sound too bad.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, standing in the middle of a fantasy forest, warming up a naked witch, while a suspiciously hentai adjacent plant swayed in the background, that you were hit with the absurdity of the situation.

The first couple of giggles forced their way through your firmly pressed lips. Itachi shot you a glare and elbowed you lightly with a huff.

“It’s not funny,” he said, still glaring at you. That was enough for you to lose your composure completely. Hysterical laughter burst forward with such strength that you bent over and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

“Oh my god,” you said between gasping laughs. “It melted your clothes because it wanted to hug you too much, what in the fucking hentai.”

“You’re laughing at me.” Itachi pouted, but soon, even he couldn’t deny the humour of the situation and a couple of chuckles bled through, melting his pout away.

“I’m laughing with you darling.” You stood, wiping away the tears that had built from the hysterics.

“I’m not laughing,” he denied.

“Yes, you are.” You pinched the end of his nose playfully and Itachi struggled to smother his smile with another pout.

“Hmph.”

You blew out a breath, watching the cloud of white float away from your face, “If you knew this was a possibility why didn’t you just pack some extra clothes?”

“I did! They’re—” Itachi froze, wide eyed. “I knew I forgot something!”

“Of course, you did.” You collapsed into laughter once more. “This universe is hilarious.”

Itachi ignored you, turning away to collect the basket and fallen seeds. He had just put the two seeds in the basket and turned to rejoin you when one of the Amplexus tendrils decided to be a menace and shot out towards Itachi’s ankles, tangling them together.

“Eep,” was the only noise you heard before Itachi was crashing into you, sending both of you sprawling to the ground. You hit the ground back first, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Itachi landed on top of you, legs spread over your hips, and hands braced against your chest.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, sitting up and glaring back at the Amplexus plant, which only swayed innocently. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up so that you were now sitting with Itachi on your lap. You tried to ignore his stark nakedness for the moment and instead brushed some fallen snow from his hair. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s only me here, and I’m not going to hold this over your head. Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Itachi said, pupils expanding as he stared at you. “But still—”

“Still nothing. There isn’t anything I could see, even the most embarrassing thing in the world, that would make me feel differently about you.”

His facial expression suddenly changed, closing off, and just like that, Itachi pulled back and the moment was broken.

Bewildered, you asked, “Are you okay? Did I do something? I didn’t mean—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice as cold as the snow around you. He got up off your lap and tugged the cloak around himself. “We should get moving; it’s cold.”

You jumped to your feet, “Right, yes, of course, I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

Itachi didn’t say anything, he just picked up the basket and started moving in the direction of home.

“We should eat something, before we go back,” you said, anxiety clawing at you. You weren’t sure what had caused him to get so cold all of a sudden. “We’ll need the strength.”

Itachi stopped walking and tipped his head consideringly.

“Fine.” That was the only thing he said before he veered left. “There is a sheltered cave opening just down here that will be a safe place to rest.”

You followed him in silence. This wasn’t the first time today that he had suddenly grown cold. You couldn’t figure out a pattern in what was causing it, but something was very clearly wrong. You wondered if he was mad at you, but as you walked, he seemed to soften slightly, linking his free arm with yours. He still didn’t speak, but it assuaged your worries that you’d somehow messed everything up.

If he wasn’t angry at you, though, then what was wrong?

The cave appeared around the corner, just up from a small, frozen pond. It looked like any cave really, if a bit shallow, but it had a large, flat rock just inside the opening that would make a perfect bench, free from the wet snow that covered everything outside.

“It’s too shallow for any large animals to live in,” Itachi explained, stepping inside. His voice and footsteps echoed slightly as he moved. “It makes for an excellent resting stop. See, someone else was here earlier.”

He pointed to the remains of a campfire that was in front of the stone bench. It was long cold, but it still looked somewhat fresh. There was still dry firewood and kindling resting in the stone lined pit. Itachi considered it for a moment before clearly deciding something.

“Stand back,” he said, gently moving you to stand behind him.

“Why?”

He eyes your damp clothes and his own nakedness for a moment, “I figure we could use some warming up.” He brought two fingers from both hands up to his mouth and forcefully blew. To your shock, a jet of fire burst from his lips and towards the fire pit, bathing the cave in an orange light. The wood caught immediately, and you quickly had a burning campfire.

“That was incredible!” you said, sitting down on the little bench and holding your hands up to the warmth. “Can you teach me that at some point?”

“It’s a unique family magic, I’m afraid.” Itachi sat down next you to as you deflated. “Don’t worry though, there is much, much more I can teach you, if you’re interested. But for now, we should eat.”

He dragged the basket over and unloaded a selection of bread and various spreads and cheeses, along with a small pot of dried fruit.

“Which cheese if your favourite?” he asked, pulling off a chunk of bread.

Not expecting the question, you stalled, “Um, whatever one you’d recommend, I guess.”

Itachi nodded. He cut of a section of a harder looking cheese and placed it on the chunk of bread. You expected him to hand it to you, but instead he held it out over the fire.

“This type of smoked cheese is better slightly melted.” He held the cheese and bread there for a few minutes before withdrawing it. He blew on it gently before holding it towards your mouth. “Open up.”

Amused, you did as he asked. He placed the chunk of cheese and bread into your mouth, laughing lightly when you deliberately nipped at his fingers.

This was the Itachi you were more familiar with, but once the food had been eaten and packed away, his melancholic mood seemed to return.

“I can almost hear you thinking,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head. “What’s on your mind, Itachi? You’re worrying me.”

He didn’t answer, he only sighed, staring at the fire. The shadows it was creating on his face only worsened the hollow sadness on his face. You wished you could wipe away all his problems, the way he seemed to for you.

“Hey, whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“I killed someone.”

You stopped speaking, letting what he said linger in the air.

“I think you should know that, before we… before we get any closer. You have a right to know.”

You leant forward, trying to get Itachi to look at you, but he refused, continuing to stare directly into the fire.

Okay, you thought, trying to make sense of things, he killed someone. To be completely honest, you had considered that his exile had been caused by something like that. It wasn’t like the legal system in this world was the same as your old world, so he could very well have been punished for a murder with exile. The only thing that made you doubt that theory was that he was the love interest in an erotica novel, and this didn’t seem like the kind of erotica world where murder was sexy.

But many people did consider tragic backstories to be sexy, which would explain the angst. There was little as satisfying as good comfort sex in a saucy novel, you could admit that.

Regardless, even if he had killed someone, if you knew Itachi, and you really felt like you were starting to, he wouldn’t have killed someone for a petty reason. From what you knew of his childhood, he had likely been pushed into it, one way or another.

You were certain that whatever had happened wouldn’t change your opinion of him, but you could understand why he had been worried, why he had been pulling away. You couldn’t let that happen.

You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Tell me what happened, Itachi?”

“I just did.”

“The whole story,” you clarified. “Because I know there’s more to it than that.”

Itachi didn’t move, just continued to stare blankly. When he spoke, his voice was monotone.

“When I was a teenager, my best friend, Shisui, as I have already mentioned, died. He took his own life, but the circumstances were suspicious. I was next in line for village leadership at the time, and I was struggling to grieve in between all the classes and meetings that I was never excused from. Everything was so sudden. To be honest, I can’t remember much of those first few days after he died.” Despite his flat voice, you could tell as clear as day that Itachi was still hurt deeply.

“That’s horrendous,” you said, scooting closer to him. “That sounds like too much pressure on a child regardless, let alone after a significant loss.”

Itachi didn’t acknowledge your words. He just stared.

“Some of the other members of my village, distant cousins of mine, decided to accuse me of personally killing Shisui.” You sucked in a breath. How dare they? Itachi was so gentle, he could never! “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Every inch of my skin itched and burnt because I was so angry. I completely snapped.

“Again, I don’t remember much of what happened, only that I killed one of them and injured the other two. The council was furious. My father tried to argue that I had been provoked. My mother tried to argue that I wasn’t in my right mind. They were, and still are, the village leaders, so their words held enough weight to spare my life, but not enough to keep me in the village. I was exiled two days later.”

A log fell in the fire, casting new shapes of light and shadow across Itachi’s cheeks. He didn’t cry, he didn’t even tear up, but the pain was obvious. You were furious that Itachi’s family, his village, had pushed him until he couldn’t handle it anymore, and then punished him for breaking down when everything became too much. You kept that anger carefully simmering below the surface, refusing to let any of it seep into your scent or voice, lest Itachi misunderstand.

‘James?’

‘Yes, human alpha?’

‘You have to promise me, if I don’t choose to stay here, that you’ll make sure someone worthy ends up in this story. Itachi deserves someone who can love him properly.’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘I… I will try, human alpha.’

That was probably the best you were going to get.

You moved even closer to Itachi now, until you were pressed up against him. He still kept his head stubborn turned away from you, but that didn’t matter. You wrapped an arm around his waist, so that he knew you were there for him.

“You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” you said softly, directly into his ear. You could feel more than hear Itachi’s shaky exhale of breath as his shoulder stuttered against your chest. “You are kind, generous, skilled in so many things, not to mention completely and stunningly beautiful.” Itachi let out a little disbelieving breath and you squeezed him as a little reprimand for doubting how amazing he was.

“I’m not a good person, I—”

“You’re a person who was pushed so far that you couldn’t cope, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Itachi. I promise, I’ve met many bad people in my life, and you aren’t one of them.” You squeezed him again, but you could almost feel the way he was dismissing your words. You hadn’t expected that one motivational speech would cure all of his self-esteem issues, even in an erotica, but you had hoped that he’d at least listen to you.

You weren’t sure what else to do to help, until you realised that you had already touched upon an obvious solution. An erotica. You were in an erotica. Maybe you needed to play by the rules of this universe to make him understand. Maybe… if you made your point the way points like these are often made in erotica stories, he would feel the message you were trying to convey.

You nosed your way down his neck, tucking your face into the collar of the cloak and making the most of the fact that he was completely bare underneath by settling your lips on the warm skin at the juncture between his neck and shoulders.

“Itachi,” you cooed, making sure to breathe directly onto his skin as much as possible. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his body and you took that as a sign to keep going.

You pressed open mouthed, wet kisses all the way up his neck until you reached his jaw, where you nipped lightly at the skin. Itachi gasped, his hands coming to grip the forearm that was still latched around his waist. You let out a little amused hum before placing another kiss on top of the same area to soothe it.

You kept up the assault on his neck until he was a puddle of blushes and shivers, leaning all his weight into you and unabashedly accepting your love.

“Itachi,” you whispered again, licking the outer shell of his ear. Itachi arched into you. He really was incredibly sensitive.

“Wh-why do you keep saying my name?” he gasped out, voice thick. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to tell you something.” Perhaps it was cruel to be purposefully obtuse, but you needed to make your point properly.

“Then tell me.”

You shook you head against his neck, “I want you to look at me first.”

With little hesitation, Itachi did as you asked, pivoting on the stone bench until he could comfortably look you in the eye.

All the skin on the right side of his neck was pink and covered in love bites, much to your pleasure.

“Tell me,” he demanded once more. His voice was quiet but not gentle.

You leant forward until your foreheads were touching and Itachi’s face was all you could see.

“I forgive you,” you breathed. “Itachi, I forgive you.”

Here, with his face pressed so closely to yours, Itachi couldn’t hide even the smallest of reaction from you. You were privy to every minute part of his response. You got to see the way his eyes widened as he registered your words. You got to feel the way he was torn between pulling back and pushing closer. You got to smell the way his scent spiked, formed from the indescribable mix of emotions held within him. You got to feel the way his face scrunched up, the way his hot tears felt as they rolled down his cheeks.

You got to see Itachi, the real Itachi, without his walls and without his fears hiding him from you.

Itachi finally gasped and pulled himself away, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Large tears streamed down his face at a rapid pace despite his obvious attempts to stop them.

“Don’t be sorry.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, but it was a fruitless endeavour as more tears replaced them every time Itachi blinked.

“I don’t normally cry,” he said, looking almost bewildered at his emotional response. “I’m sorry, I just—” He cut himself off as his face scrunched up with emotion again.

You pulled Itachi towards your chest until his head was resting against your shoulder and your bodies were fused together as one. You grabbed the napkins from the picnic basket and wordlessly placed them on Itachi’s lap for him to use at his own pace.

He grabbed the pile almost immediately, pressing one to his face. As thick, cloth napkins, you were sure it was doing a great deal in helping Itachi stem the tears.

You held Itachi as he sobbed, letting out years of pain and worry onto your shoulder. His loose hair allowed you free reign to run your fingers through it, scratching at his scalp whenever the sobs got particularly loud. You looked out of the cave and into the beautiful winter forest, listening to Itachi’s cries slowly turn into sniffles before disappearing altogether. Eventually, his breathing was so slow and deep that it wouldn’t have surprised you if he’d cried himself to sleep.

“I love you.”

You inhaled sharply at the quiet words. Itachi had whispered them like they were a shameful secret, so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear over the fire.

You couldn’t pretend to be surprised that someone so lonely and starved for positive affection had already reached the point of love, even after such a small number of weeks together. No, Itachi’s feelings you had expected, it was your own that took you by surprise. Because if you were to be completely honest, you loved him too. You had fallen head over heels with him, as a friend and as a lover.

It had only been two weeks, but you’d spent almost every second of that time together. You’d got to know him, seen more of his than perhaps you ought to, and yet there was still so much of him that you hadn’t seen and were desperate to.

You loved him. It felt right to say.

“Is that… okay?” Itachi asked hesitantly. Oh, you had been leaving him in suspense. Well, that wouldn’t do.

“It’s more than okay, Itachi, do you know why?”

Itachi lifted his head from your shoulder and searched your face. He was still red around the eyes.

“Why?” he asked, voice tinged with desperation.

“Because I love you too.”

You watched emotions war on Itachi’s face. He opened his mouth, and like a tap, words and worries poured out uncontrollably.

“But what if that changes when you get your memories back?” he asked, grabbing onto the front of your shirt. “You’ll go back to wherever you came from, and you’ll have a job, a family. And what if, what if you have a partner, a lover? What if you’re married?! What if this ends as soon as you take the potion?”

‘What if you leave me?’ went unsaid but was clearly communicated.

“Hey, stop—”

“No! You can’t know that that won’t happen! I can’t… I don’t want this to be too good, because it will only hurt more when I lose it.”

You cupped his face in your hands, running your thumbs underneath his wild eyes that were still tinged with red. You needed a way to reassure him without giving away that you didn’t actually have amnesia. Your own backstory was yours to create, and none of his fears were going to become reality. Either you would stay in this world and be with him, or you wouldn’t, and he would reset and forget that you had ever existed.

It was strangely emotional to consider such a dichotomy. On one hand, you’d miss him terribly if you decided to pick the other book for whatever reason. On the other hand, if you did stay here, imagining that future was a lot too. You would give him your mating mark, and maybe a ring to match. Maybe you’d stay in his cottage or maybe you’d move slightly closer to civilisation and build a new home together. Either way, you’d made sure to have an extra room for Sasuke and whoever in your family that you’d yet to invent that might want to stay. Maybe you’d have some pups, or maybe you’d just raise chickens or something. You could see a beautiful life here, with your witch.

But how could you reassure Itachi?

“There is no job that could keep me from you.” You tried to sound sure, unwavering, to reassure him. “And if I have a family, they can visit, or I can visit them. And maybe this is unfounded, but I feel like I would know if I had someone waiting for me, and I don’t think I do.”

“You can’t know that until—”

“But even if I did,” you continued, cutting him off. “I have no mating mark, no wedding nor engagement ring. If I did have a mysterious partner somewhere, then, in the words of Beyoncé, ‘if they liked it, then they should have put a mark on it’. I’d rather be here with you.”

“Who’s Beyoncé?” Itachi asked, bewildered.

You laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

Entranced, you both leaned in at once, sealing your lips together in a desperately horny kiss as weeks of tension suddenly burst. There was a raw intensity to the kiss, born from the clashing of pent-up emotions. There was some awkward teeth clanging, a little pain, but the way your lips danced together was warming you more than the fire ever could.

You couldn’t feel much of Itachi through the cloak, but that didn’t stop your hands from wandering. You moved from cupping his face, to running your hands down his chest, to squeezing at where you guessed his waist was.

Itachi was doing much the same thing, running his hands over your shoulders and chest without pause. You could tell that he was most enthralled by the obvious tent in your trousers though, as his hands kept drifting towards your crotch. This wasn’t exactly a surprise because you’d caught him staring there a few times since The Boner Incident™️, but now it seemed that his hands were suffering from the same curse as his eyes.

Itachi’s scent was clogging every sense you had as you continued to kiss. The sinful noise from Itachi that you managed to coax out and swallow suggested that your scent was doing much the same to him.

“Here, baby,” you whispered against his lips, hands teasing at the clasp of the cloak. “Let’s make this more comfortable.”

“Wait.” Itachi’s hand landed over yours. You stopped immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but… we’re outside,” Itachi said, his eyes darting to the entrance of the cave. “That’s not allowed.”

You blinked at him, “Itachi, there’s no one but us for miles.”

“Oh… yes, of course, sorry, carry on.” He lifted his hand from yours with a sheepish smile. You sent one back and slowly, purposefully, unclasped his cloak.

The fabric clung to Itachi’s shoulders, but with a little nudge, the cloak fell and pooled around Itachi’s hips on the stone bench. And just like that, Itachi was fully, properly, bare to you for the first time. Or, at least the first time that you were encouraged to stare at him.

His pale skin glowed in the firelight, catching on the silver hints of barely visible scars. It was normal for everyone to have a few, but you hadn’t expected to see so many. It was another question to add onto your list about his upbringing.

It was also with a glorious delight that you were able to truly study his nipples after being teased with only glimpses for so long. They were pebbled from the cold, just as you’d predicted, but as pink and delightfully round as your dreams had promised you. This world would certainly have artists who accepted commission work; you wondered if Itachi would let you get a painting or sketch of his nipples? Maybe if you asked him nicely.

“Is this… okay?” he asked, seeming shy under your gaze. ‘Am I okay?’ his eyes asked instead.  

“More than okay; you’re perfect.” Itachi’s shoulder’s relaxed and softened at your admittedly cheesy words. Well, erotica was a cheesy genre, and hey, now that you were in an erotica story, you couldn’t say it was a bad thing. It certainly made flirting easier; you didn’t have to be so witty. “Stand up for a quick second, darling.”

Itachi did as you asked without question, which shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but you could unpack that later. You stood too, and taking the abandoned cloak, you laid it out so that it covered the entire stone slab. It wouldn’t do much to make it more comfortable, but it would keep the chill of the cold stone at bay.

Guiding him, you laid Itachi down against the covered stone and hovered over him in one smooth motion.

“Let me warm you up.”

You connected your lips again. You kissed more slowly this time, but with no less desperation, your lips tingling pleasantly. Itachi’s hands tugged at your shirt. You thought he was pulling you closer, but a little growl of frustration soon hit the air as he tugged more incessantly.

“Off,” he growled. “Take it off. I need—Take it off. I’m naked, you’re not, that’s not fair.”

You laughed at his logic but obliged, pulling off your shirt and dropping it by the foot of the stone slab. The rush of cold air was a shock to your system, but with the roaring fire, the temperature could have been worse.

Itachi seemed to be possessed by a hunger when the shirt obstacle had finally been removed. His hands and eyes feasted on your exposed flesh. You shivered at the sensation of his surprisingly calloused hands dragging across every inch of exposed skin.

“Is it okay?” you asked, parroting his earlier question.

“Perfect,” Itachi moaned, propping himself up to kiss and bit at your neck, one hand still groping every bit of free skin that you had presented to him.

It was clear that the sexual tension hadn’t only been affecting you. Itachi was more intense than you’d imagined, which was fuelling your own desperation. And there was one desperate desire that sat above all the rest.

“Itachi, hang on a second,” you said, pulling his face away from your neck. “I have a question for you.”

Itachi, who had looked rather displeased to have his neck kissing session interrupted, now looked curious.

“I was wondering if you knew” -you pushed him until he was laying flat against the stone and started kissing down his throat- “what you were doing when you grabbed that glass of water, the very first day we met.”

You didn’t linger on his neck for long, moving your attentions to his collar bones, and then eventually down to the valley between his pecs. Itachi’s hands flew to the back of your head.

“Wh-what do you mean?” His voice was breathy, and while the intensity of his desire remained, he seemed happy to submit to you now.

You hummed, using your thumbs to massage the underside of each of his pecs while you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere but where he was trying to guide your head.

“That afternoon, when you grabbed the water, you gave me the most amazing view straight up your jumper and to your pretty nipples. These pretty nipples.” You ghosted your fingers around his areola but drew them away when he tried to arch into the touch.

“What?! I- I didn’t mean to do that!” he gasped, face going bright red. “It was an accident.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. It seemed like you wanted to tease me, Itachi. Were you trying to tease me, the strange alpha that you’d only just met? How naughty.”

Itachi tried to tug your mouth to his nipple again, but you held firm. He made a little frustrated noise, lifting his head up to shoot you a glare that you only grinned at.

 “That’s why I want you to ask me,” you continued. “No, actually, I want you to beg me, Itachi. Beg me to give your nipples some attention, to kiss them, suck them, bite them.”

Itachi held firm for a few moments, but a couple more touches and a few well-placed breaths later, and you were rewarded with something beautiful.

“I-I- Please… Please k-k-kiss them.”

“Kiss what, ‘tachi?”

He sent you a flustered glare again, but soon he stuttered out a reply.

“My ni-nipples, please.”

Every nerve ending that you had set alight, and your trousers were quickly becoming painfully tight. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to ravish the pretty omega, to reward him for submitting so nicely. And, well, you’d never been one to ignore important instincts.

“Good boy.” His cock twitched where it was resting on his stomach and that was all the encouragement needed to fulfil the witch’s request.

Your thumbs and forefingers went first, settling on Itachi’s hardened nipples and pinching and flicking to their heart’s content. Itachi groaned, his eyes fluttering shut and his head falling back against the wooden bench. Moans and squeaks continued to pour out of him with reckless abandon. The blush pink colour darkened a little as you continued with your gentle abuse.

Then, once you could resist no longer, you removed your hand from his left nipple, and descended with your mouth. Like a person dying of thirst coming across an oasis, you lapped at him greedily, drinking in all the sensations. The feel of him against your heavy tongue was divine, and soon your own moans joined Itachi’s, who had become twice as loud.

You were delighted to find that, with the presence of your warm mouth, Itachi’s nipple was slowly softening. You could feel every crevice relax, coaxed open just for you. You took the newly soft nipple in your mouth and sucked. Itachi arched so far off the bench, desperate to push closer to your mouth, that you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

You hummed, amused and more than a little smug. This was quite literally a dream come true.

You pulled back from his chest, purposefully catching him with your teeth as you did, so that you could admire your handy work. Slicked with your spit, his nipple glistened in the firelight, painting a stark picture of difference with the one beside it.

You clicked your tongue in faux disappointment; that wouldn’t do. Those beautiful, pink temptations needed to match.

Once you had performed the same on his other nipple, you pulled back once again, focused more on Itachi as a whole this time. He looked entirely debauched from head to toe. He was breathing harshly eyes closed, neck covered in bites, chest red and cock practically weeping. The dark black fabric of the cloak didn’t show stains, but you were certain that the patch under his hips was now damp with slick.

Itachi let out a shuddering breath, “How did… Is it supposed to feel that good?”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, my darling,” you said, amused. “If you’ll allow me, I’d be honoured to show you something else that’ll feel amazing too.”

Itachi propped himself up on his elbows and gave you a bashful look, “You should know that… I haven’t done stuff like this before.”

You took a shaky breath as a thousand and one things you wanted to do to him flooded into your brain at once, competing for dominance. Of course, he hadn’t had sex before. His childhood was spent being groomed as the next village leader, and then he’d been exiled with his only rare piece of company coming in the form of his immediate family. Thinking about it, it would have probably been more surprising if he had experience, but you just hadn’t expected the love interest of an erotica novel to be a virgin.

“We don’t have to go further if you don’t want to,” you said, trying to sound reassuring over the lump in your throat. Hey, if he didn’t want to keep going, the general cold in the air should get rid of your boner this time, no need for cold water. That was marginally better.

“I do! I mean…” Itachi hesitated for a moment, and you were expecting him to call it a day. “You’re not going to leave me as soon as you get your memories back, are you?”

Your face softened at his question. To be completely honest, you had kind of got caught up in everything and forgotten about his anxieties in the process.

“Never,” you promised. You felt a little guilty at the prospect that you might choose the other pocket dimension, but if that happened then Itachi would quite literally forget you existed, promise included. Perhaps it was a little scummy to make a promise with someone who would forget if you broke it, but you justified to yourself that these were exceptional circumstances. “I know it sounds a bit silly to say out loud, but I feel right when I’m with you. Meeting you was like a part of me I never knew was missing clicking back into place.”

“No, it’s not silly!” Itachi said breathlessly, staring at you with wide eyes. “I feel the same. It’s like I’m alive when you’re here, for the first time in my life, truly alive.”

“When I look at the future,” you started, breaking for a moment to peck Itachi on the lips. “I see us sharing a home, waking up together every day, maybe even raising some chickens together. Never do I ever imagine a day without you in it.”

“I’ve always wanted chickens.” Itachi was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“Then I’ll give you as many chickens as you want.”

“And you don’t mind that I don’t have any experience with relationships?”

You grinned sheepishly, “To be honest, it’s kind of hot.”

Itachi seemed amused for a moment, but sincerity quickly overtook it. “Then I would love for you to take my virginity.”

“No,” you said, kissing the surprised look off his face. “If we do this, nothing will be taken. We will both gain something, a great experience, together.”

Itachi looked entirely besotted, but you had meant every word. Even if you left, even if he forgot, you would still have this experience with him, and you would treasure every second.

‘That was very smooth, human. The commodification of the social construct of virginity is harmful indeed, why, Glatheenron was talking about it just the other day and—’

‘James, genuinely, that is an important discussion and I appreciate your support, but I’m sort of preoccupied right now, so maybe you could wait until later?’

“Then allow me to rephrase my earlier statement,” Itachi said, drawing you out of your head. “I would be deeply happy if we could share my first time together.”

You leant down and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead, “As would I, my sweet omega, as would I.”

Next Chapter

[chaesparklez]

holiday fling | jiwoong x reader

wc: 2.4k

reader: femme afab: heavily gendered descriptions (reader is described with gendered terms, described to be wearing lingerie, having breasts)

warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+

alcohol consumption, oral f! receiving, heavy petting, vaginal sex, one night stand, teasing, spanking, once again mentions of reader being female!!

synopsis: a hot mysterious stranger approaches you on the roof of your hotel on vacation. after chatting to you through a night filled with sexual tension, he slips a chit of paper into your hand inscribed with only one thing- his room number. by the energy built up between you, you just know exactly what’ll happen once you step foot in that room. :)

a/n: cross posted on wattpad and ao3. full version available on both platforms by yours truly. wattpad+ao3 @/chaesparkle

you've been staring at your reflection so hard it's starting to distort itself.

you had been slowly making yourself up for the past 45 minutes, spraying scent on freshly showered skin and dabbing cream highlight across your cheekbones. you'd come to the decision that you were going to jiwoong's hotel room tonight.

a couple of days had passed since the night on the terrace which you were still surprised wasn't a fever dream. it wasn’t often that a tall handsome stranger approached you out of nowhere and started flirting… and you actually flirted back.

you had decided to say 'fuck it' and take up his lucrative offer. those raven black eyes and wily smile had charmed you.

and after all, what was the harm in having some fun on vacation?

so you find yourself stood outside the mahogany door with '107' marked in gold letters on it. taking a deep breath, you knock.

and there he is. the man himself, standing before you in all his glory in grey sweatpants, hair still damp from the shower and smelling amazing. jiwoong greets you with his lazy smile, leaning against the doorframe in that laidback sexy way that seemed to entice you here in the first place.

"and she finally makes her appearance. come on in," he says, gesturing for you to enter with a nod of his head.

the suite is amazing. cream interior with windows stretching from floor to ceiling through which you can see the view of the whole city. the room is dimly lit with only the warm light of a tall floor lamp.

'it's nice to see you again. how are you?'

"never been better."

jiwoong sidles over to the window and gazes out at the sparkling view.

"it's a beautiful view." you comment.

he turns around and smiles.

"it's a very, very beautiful view." he remarks, walking over to you while taking in your appearance. your heart skips a beat at his piercing gaze which now focuses on your deep red lips.

"would you like some wine?"

"i'd love some."

he pours a glass of plum wine for you both before proffering his glass to cheers.

"what should we cheers to?"

"to this impossibly gorgeous view. to this long summer night. and to us?" you smile.

"to us." he grins, clinking your glasses together. he takes your hand gently and guides you to sit on the plushy king-sized bed where you perch down gingerly.

"i'm sorry i approached you so abruptly." he says.‘ever since i saw you i just felt this overwhelming feeling.'

"a good or a bad feeling?" you ask, smiling and sipping your wine.

"i thought i was going insane. it’s not everyday you come across a beautiful woman like you. whatever i felt when i saw you, it was... primal."

"well then, i guess that doesn't make you the only insane person." you mutter delicately.

your heart rate quickens as a moment of silence passes between you. you gaze up into his eyes before they travel down to his full lips, the sexual tension in the air almost palpable. he brushes your hair away from your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. his thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, his gaze fixed on those ruby lips once again.

a mischievous idea comes into your head. and you proceed to take his thumb into your mouth while maintaining eye contact the whole time.

jiwoong purses his lips and squeezes his eyes closed while shaking his head, overcome with lust. taking a step away from you he runs a hand through his hair and curses under his breath, muttering just loud enough for you to hear:

"you drive me crazy."

"i could say the same to you as well." cocking your head to the side and giving him a mischievous grin.

you stand up and inch towards him with your hands behind your back. coming so close to him you can smell his earthy cologne, you look into his eyes again.

'you know, i dreamt of you that night. after we met on the terrace.'

"oh?"

"mhmm."

he pulls you in by the waist so you're merely inches away.

"and what did we get up to in this dream?" he asks, a dark glint in his eye.

your hand, which rests against his muscled chest, strokes down slowly as you lean in closer.

"you fucked the shit out of me." you whisper into his ear.

a beat.

and his lips are on yours.

he kisses you passionately, his lips soft and warm against your own. the kiss is hot and sultry, the two of you desperately hungry for one another. your heartbeat goes crazy and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he intensifies the kiss. you naturally sink onto the bed so he's on top of you. the heat of your bodies combined only increases your hunger for one another, his hand slowly travelling up your thigh to trace the line of your panties. you shiver at his cool touch and run your hands through his hair.

exploring each other's bodies, you caress his muscled chest. your hand travels down to his perfect abs; you feel his growing erection pressed against your pelvis and he takes a sharp intake of breath as your hand brushes over it. in return his touch travels up to your breasts gently massaging them over your bra.

the white robe you wear begins to slip down your shoulder with the movement, exposing your skin, and jiwoong's mouth strays from your lips down to your neck, sucking and nibbling gently on your soft skin. he leaves gentle kisses on the sensitive part of your neck where it meets the collarbone. it feels so good you can't help but let out a gentle moan, waves of pleasure blooming throughout your body right to the tips of your fingers.

he removes his t shirt before taking off your robe and tossing it aside so you can feel each other's bare skin. god, the view of him on top of you with those muscles on full display has you reeling.

his kisses wander from your neck to your collarbone across to the shoulder, then back to your lips. the tip of his tongue slides across your teeth, and you moan once again. you need more; you need him all over you.

you pull away for a moment, the two of you breathless and flushed with desire. he takes a look at you lying underneath him; the view of you gazing up at him with pink cheeks and your lipstick smudged makes him positively ravenous for you.

removing your bra and throwing it aside in a swift movement, he begins to massage one of your breasts while sloppily licking and sucking the hardened nipple of the other; his cold hand contrasting with the heat of his tongue circling your nipple. you sigh in pleasure, running your fingers along his exposed back.

between kisses you ask in a yearning voice: "please. i need your lips. your tongue. down here." you take his hand and place it between your legs, where without missing a beat he strokes along the line of your dripping wet pussy, his middle finger massaging your clit in circular motions, making you gasp between his lips at his touch.

with swollen lips and tousled hair, he locks eyes with you and slowly sinks down to your legs before taking off your panties.

he runs his tongue up along the length of your pussy and down again allowing himself to enjoy your sweet juices. eating you out fast and sloppily, the room is filled with your moans at the relentless flicks of his tongue against your clit. gripping your thighs, you arch into his touch as he continues to lick your pussy with ravenous desire. he sucks right on your clit, the suction sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body.

his passion, the messiness of it, the rawness of everything is so erotic. your thighs begin to tremble around his face and you weave your fingers through his thick black hair pulling in desperation, feeling your climax coming close already.

"f-fuck me..." you whimper, head spinning.

upon hearing this he emerges from between your legs with messy hair and wetness dripping down his chin. wiping it with the back of his hand before slowly making his way back up to you.

with him on top of you and your legs wrapped around him you can feel his hard length on your center. finally straying away from your body, he pauses to take a condom out of the bedside drawer.

he tears open the condom packet with his teeth in an irresistibly sexy way, looking right at you with those dark bedroom eyes. then removes his shorts. you gape at his fully grown length, unable to help rubbing your thighs together at how the sight before you makes you even wetter. just before he puts it on, you find yourself asking:

“can i do it?”

he hands it over and as you take his length into your hand for a moment he lets out a deep moan under his breath, making you smile in amusement and gaze up at him, stroking it once to tease him.

"don't," he breathes. 'it's hard enough trying not to cum without you looking at me like that.' he brushes your hair away from your eyes.

placing the condom on his tip you lean forward and roll it down with your mouth, prompting another suppressed moan from him. he curses under his breath at the feeling of your lips around his length. unable to stand it, he roughly pushes you back onto the bed.

your breath quickens, your chest rising and falling in close proximity with the heat of his body. you bite your lip in anticipation.

"tell me if it hurts." he says in a deepened voice.

then he thrusts his cock deep inside you. you cry out in pleasure and grip at the sheets, your walls clenching around him. as he begins to move his hips, you grasp at his back leaving faint scratches on it. the sensation of his touch all over your body making every cell in your body light up in response.

he fucks you passionately, robbing you of your breath. you feel every inch of his throbbing cock inside you hitting your g spot with every rough thrust. he burrows his face into your neck and moans deeply, so you can feel the vibrations on your skin.

making out with you sloppily, he picks up the pace, fucking you hard and fast so the room is filled with the sound of your desperate moans and skin slapping against skin. you throw your head back in desire and moan without holding back.

"ah, fuck! just like that. please. keep going."

"how much do you want it? beg for me."

"p-please. please jiwoong. fuck me. go deeper."

"oh yeah? and what if i don't?" he contests, smirking.

he pulls out and strokes along the length of your center with his cock deliberately refusing to enter you. the stimulation against your sensitive clit combined with his husky voice whispering filth in your ear has you in pieces. you cant handle this anymore.

you move out from underneath him and pin him down, straddling him. surprised at first, that dangerous smirk of his creeps onto his face again as he takes in the view before him. he places his hands on your hips and squeezes your ass, letting his touch wander up to caress your waist, your breasts.

"you look so good on top of me like that." he mutters.

"you don't look too bad yourself," you smile and lean down to plant a hot kiss on his lips.

then you take in his length once again and begin to ride him, stimulating your clit with every movement while enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you. he squeezes your hips tighter and moans. he really does look so hot laying underneath you. his abdominals ripple in pleasure and his neck glimmers with sweat. his eyes fixate on your undulating body without wavering. you stroke your hand slowly down from his chest to his abs and whisper, "you like that?" in a breathy voice.

"mhmm" he replies, eyes closed and head thrown back.

you grin, satisfied, and continue to ride him. the sound of your combined moans reverberates around the room and your pussy throbs at how jiwoong looks at you with eyes filled with lust. you take his hand and place it on your breast, which he fondles with his firm grip. he rolls the tip of your nipple between his fingers. you whine loudly and throw your head back while riding him, your body rolls becoming slow and drawn out before coming to a stop.

switching positions, you place yourself on all fours and sink your head to rest on your arms while jiwoong positions himself behind you. slowly, so you can feel every pulsating vein, he slides his length into your pussy. you moan at how you can feel every inch of his cock inside you in this position. and once again he fucks you intensely as if he has something to prove, his hands gripping your ass hard and using the momentum to fuck you deeper. he alternates between deep, rough thrusts and smooth movements grinding his hips. you hide your face in the pillow stifling your moans but you feel him pull your head back with a tug to your hair.

"let it all out, princess. you don't have to be quiet here." he says, kissing the nape of your neck.

you cry out in pleasure just as he expects, to which he continues fucking you intensely and spanks your ass. your pussy clenches around his length at this, the sensation of your throbbing pussy combined with the way your ass tingles from the slap making you so wet you can feel it dripping down your legs. you beg for more and he obliges. you moan desperately at every spank landed on your trembling ass. you feel your climax come close and grasp at the pillow.

"fuck, i'm cumming, i'm cumming.." you whimper before your climax finally hits you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. your body trembles, overcome with sweet relief, and your pussy throbs around jiwoong's length. he cums right after, finishing with deep solid thrusts while moaning deeply. he gently massages the throbbing red skin of your ass and pulls out.

and like that, your bodies come to a repose. you sink into one another like withered leaves on the bed, jiwoong resting his head on your breasts.

a holiday fling, indeed.

[jesssssssssica]

another sad love triangle! ls2 & op81

authors note! i think i managed to make a gn!reader but i'm so sorry if i haven't! also rip logie bear :(

helpless op81

Oscar remembers that night so clearly and so perfectly, as it was the night that he first met you, the love of his life.

One moment he was listening to Logan muttering on and on about how he was destined to get more points as the season went on and then the next, he felt his knees buckle as his eyes got lost in yours. 

And from that point he was helpless, fearing that if his eyes left yours for even a moment, he would lose you in a crowd of people, never to be seen again, leaving him forever looking for the mysterious partygoer.

He had never meant to find the love of his life, in fact, he was expecting anything but, having just recently come out of a relationship that he’d never thought would end, and yet here he was, fawning over a complete stranger. 

How was he meant to know that one moment he would be nodding along to the words Logan to feeling his heart repeatedly pound against his chest the moment that he caught your eye.

Slowly, he eyed the rest of the room, trying to create a mysterious persona, one that would hopefully entice you into coming over and greet him, as he found himself too scared to speak to such a beautiful person as you. Nothing could get in his way. 

Though, in the corner of his eye, he recalled catching his friends lingering eye on the one person that he desperately wanted to speak to, so in an act to protect the supposed love of his life, he leaned in and whispered with a slight pleading tone in his voice. 

“That girl over there is pretty cute, isn’t she? I think I might go and speak to her.” 

“Oh really?” 

And then Logan left, smirking as he went, wandering over to you, grabbing you by the waist and speaking to you, whilst Oscar watched in horror, praying to the heavens above that this wouldn’t go horribly, though all his worries went away when you turned and smiled at him. 

All the pain he had ever felt in the whole 22 years he’d been alive for, all went away the moment that he saw you smile at him, as if you were the person he’d been waiting for all his life.

So he watched, watched as Logan lightly directed you over to where he stood in the corner of the room, watching as Logan rambled on into your ear, which he later learned from you, was complete and utter nonsense, until finally, you were in front of his face. 

“Oscar Piastri, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I know, Y/N Y/L/N, well done on your season so far.”

He had fallen hard. 

“I guess i’ll leave you to it, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And then it was just the two of them left. 

And from there, their relationship bloomed, sending messages to each other nightly, whether it be silly memes or ranting about annoying coworkers, though everyday your relationship strengthened even if you were continents away from one another. 

Then he remembers, after many months of Logan’s endless teasing of how they could always open up their relationship to involve him, Oscar Piastri found himself in the living room of your parents, cracking his knuckles as his palms became sweaty, waiting anxiously to ask for the blessing of marriage. 

He remembers panicking inside as your father rose from his lounge chair, walking over to him, face stone cold, not letting any emotion through, before chuckling and clasping his hand, shaking hands with him. 

“Don’t ever let her go.”

Oscar would never do such a thing. 

And now here he was, standing across from his beautiful fiance, tears gathering in his eyes, hardly believing his luck that he’d found himself lucky enough to be stood across from his soulmate, grateful that he’d gone to that stupid party that Logan was begging him to attend.

satisfied ls2

Logan Sargeant was happy that Oscar Piastri, his best friend of many years, was getting married to someone he deemed ‘the love of his life’ with a smitten smile on a drunken night out on the town, yet at the same time he wasn’t happy for this union. 

Yet it was too late for any objection, as now he stands with an arm raised, glass in hand, praising the couple with a strained smile on his face, desperately wishing that he was the one that got to stare into your eyes just before bed and hold you beneath the duvet but he can’t, so now he has to watch the happy couple in the shadows.

“A toast to the happy couple!” He exclaims, watching you stare into Oscar’s eyes, not noticing the pain behind the speech-giver's eyes, wishing somehow it were him. 

“A toast to the happy couple!” The guests repeat, all of them collectively cheering at the union of two people who needed each other most, naive of the spiralling best man in front of their eyes. 

“From your best friend Logan, who has always and will always be by your side.” And it’s true because no matter what, no matter how much he craves to be in your arms, he will always be the best friend first. 

“And may you always be…”, he pauses, arm still raised, thinking back to that night, the night, the night he met you, “satisfied.”

He remembers that night all too well as it was a night that he would regret for the rest of his life due to his selfless choices. 

He remembers watching the many beautiful women that would try and capture his attention, none of whom particularly captured his eye, well except for you. 

I mean how could he forget when he had just seen the prettiest person ever, standing in the same room as him, a face that would forever change his life.

Flashback to that night, where he stood at the bar, rambling on to Oscar about how this season would hopefully be filled with more points and luck than the last, when he noticed how out of focus his friend was, who instead of listening along to the rambles of his friend was staring at you. 

If there were one word to summarise how he felt when he first turned his head and looked at your face, it would’ve been enamoured. He was enamoured from first sight and he knew that he would never be completely happy if he didn’t get to know you, but he wasn’t the only one left enamoured by your bright persona, for Oscar was too. So in an act of kindness, he walked over to where you stood until he came face to face with you. 

“Hi” your meek voice said, smiling softly at him.

Oh he was gone, no longer remembering his own name, instead only focusing on your beautiful smile, but he needed to put this aside and give Oscar a chance to explore this possible connection, even if it hurt him.

“Hi now I know you don’t know me but you will, and I think there’s someone I need to introduce you to”, Logan slowly raised his hand over to where Oscar stood, watching your eyes brighten “Now he may seem like some dork, but I think you and him would really get along.”

You smile back at him, laughing slightly at the small insult made at this possible setup.

“Is that so?” 

“Well I'd like to think so.” 

For a moment you just stare at each other as if only you two knew something that the rest of the world didn’t, which technically you did. Unbeknownst to Logan, you’d also found yourself quite taken with the American man, so it came to quite a shock to you when he’d approached you, not with the intentions of setting himself up with you, but instead with the man sat by the bar.

So why was he able to give you up so easily?

How was he able to come to the conclusion that Oscar was going to give you life that you deserved from a conversation that lasted two maybe three minutes, especially when he had managed to charm you in said conversation?

He wished to just whisk you away from this place and run away with you and live a free life with you, without having to worry about anything, but then he saw Oscar’s face. 

Oscar’s face portrayed nothing more than adoration and helplessness for the stranger that stood across the room.

That’s how Logan knew that Oscar would treat her better, because no matter how much Logan tried to convince himself that he could love her and treat her better than Oscar, he couldn’t. Logan knew that Oscar wouldn’t dare find himself falling so quickly and so easily, especially on a night out that he was so reluctant to go to from the beginning, showing to him how deeply in love his friend had fallen.

Because from his face to his eyes to his mannerisms, he could tell he was helpless. 

He knew that if he had been selfish enough to take you away from Oscar, he would just leave his friend feeling lonely and depressed yet faking a smile, because he was one of the kindest people he knew. 

Which is why he knew that could and would never be able to love you in public, hence why the only time he could imagine you in his arms, was at night in the comfort of his own bed. 

But at least Oscar got to and Logan would always love you even from afar.

“So here’s to the happy couple and may they always be satisfied!”

[running-with-kn1ves]

Walla....kn1ves....genius big brain yandere writer....i just (re)found your Yves work (im sure you saw me freak out in the tags lmao) if you have the time/energy/inspo pls i beg you for a speck, a crumb, a droplette, ANYTHING of my baby Yves x fem!reader. I'm not sure how specific is too specific but I have a truckload of daydreams and prompts for this man dc im down BAD BAD for the way you write him. I'm not sure if this is too specific of a request but can it be yves holding himself back constantly because he wants to *romance* the reader but its so obvious he's itching for more until one day he finally snaps and takes her (specifically him giving her his virginity and whoops maybe going crazy when he finds out she isnt one)? I'm just obsessed with his characterization and want to see him in a ton of situations and feeling/reacting to different things. The stern dom undertones his whole vibe has disguised by a friendly foreign guide 🥵 The drabble of him was sooooo good and such a tease of his personality, it's so enticing hahaha. If that prompt is no good or doesn't inspire you then anything else is fine and ofc if you have no inspiration for Yves at all then that's a-okay too!!! Thank you sooooo much for thinking up that beautiful man and sharing him with us!!! Hope you enjoy your holidays💞💞💞

A/N: Ugh I'm so sorry I took so long in answering 😭😭 I was gonna write like a whole piece but my time has been cut dramatically, so please accept this poor little piece!! I was honestly so overjoyed at seeing your tags, it makes me so happy to see people's reactions to my stuff ┗( T﹏T )┛I wish I could have more time to write for this because I love the concept, I'm a huge fan of the "mysterious foreign guide who's just a little too friendly" kind of trope. Thank you so much for your support anon and I hope you enjoy this!! OG piece here for any of you nerds!

TW: Kidnapping, implied dubcon/noncon, manipulation

It wasn’t hard to notice Yve’s shift in behavior. Well, this shift out of many. When you first met him, he gave off a kind, well-meaning but nervous vibe. He did his best to show you around, to make you comfortable and converse with you in english to the best of his knowledge. That kind persona shifted into something more… desperate; obsessive, once he brought you back to his apartment. He was still kind, still well-meaning and observant to your needs. He apologized profusely when you got upset from how he kept you from leaving, promising that you weren’t missing anything important in class and that he could show you real culture instead! What could you learn from a textbook that would be better than seeing the country itself?

But time and time again, Yves made excuses to keep you inside, to make you stay by his side whether through photoshoots or studying, with him as your “teacher”. You had to learn the basics before taking such a “big” step out into his country, right? Unfortunately for you, Yve’s only taught information on the most trivial subjects. From words like “textbook” to “glass”, you were able to make meaningless sentences that wouldn’t serve you well in conversing with native speakers outside of Yve’s little apartment. Sure, it might help you occasionally, but it got you no where closer to understanding Yve’s rushed mumbling and incoherent rambling. 

With your sudden move to his apartment and his new change in conduct, Yves had slowly become less generous. He didn’t make as much of an effort to talk in english anymore, and made far less points to explain himself. You couldn’t tell what caused this new change-- a change that you were soon starting to accept as Yves showing his true colors. The man was still attentive to your needs, still caring and kind-- but the posessiveness that had slipped out almost entirely seemed to be taking hold. And while you’d think that a growing obsession would make it more beneficial to you-- it in fact, made your difficulty increase tenfold. Yves began to direct you on what you should wear, when you should eat, what you should do for the day.

 Not only that, but his attentiveness to…more intimate needs were far more prevalent as well. Whether it was bathing, or the need that pulsed between your legs, Yve’s was there to try and take care of it. You pushed him away multiple times, awkwardly trying to tell him that you were fine-- but it never seemed to stick. He always just looked at you with a tilted, confused expression, muttering in his native tongue as if he didn’t understand. So when the foreign guide began to sleep next to you instead of the cot on the floor, and began to press his morning erection agaist your backside sleepily, you knew your protests weren’t having any effect.

You would have walked right out of that teensy apartment the moment you felt he didn’t listen-- if you weren’t so afraid. If you weren’t afraid of the loaded handgun in his locked nightstand drawer, or how easily he could destroy your life at your new university-- which he mentioned offhand multiple times in a casual manner-- you would have walked out. The power he held against you, a foreign student with failing grades and no money, was too much for you to ignore. So, you decided to bide you time. It was only a matter of weeks until he got bored with you, you decided. But his new actions didn’t seem to prove that. 

In fact, the lustful, mischievous look he gave you that evening was the complete opposite. His scrawny frame jumped atop yours, hooking his hands behind your neck and leaning in to try and kiss you. He had planned an unusually fancy dinner, lighting candles you had never seen in his apartment before and bringing a bottle of wine with some italian takeout. You tried to question him about the mound of pillows and blankets on his balcony, the sudden romantic lighting, but the male only gave you a broad statement on how it was a “celebration” of sorts.

Yves’ sudden prowling mood after dinner wasn’t a complete shock-- considering you felt his eyes on you the entire evening-- but it still caught you a tad off guard. You tried to reject him, to push him away after each kiss, but it was done with such little effort and such great fear that you stayed silent once he muttered in an annoyed tone in his own language. Yves took your silence as a surrender, friskily lowering his hand under your shirt to caress your abdomen. He rambled against your flesh in half-english as he kissed you up and down, not afraid to let out vocal little noises of pleasure, or grunts of satisfaction ones he heard your breath hitch or a hum of desire come from your lips. 

But it wasn’t until he uttered a sentence with a familiar word, did you actually reply to him. You recognized the term from messing around with your friends, when you jokingly learned dirty words from your textbooks and the internet to use when you finally entered the country. You never expected to actually utilize them unless you went to a club or bar and happened to meet someone. One of those words, was ‘virgin.’ A more tame term compared to the bunch you had memorized, but one that you and your friends had idiotically decided to research. Though, it seemed your stupid endeavors had paid off. 

As Yves repeated himself, you began to understand the sentence a bit more. The man was seeming to imply… you were a virgin? Something about you both no longer virgin-ing? Maybe he was saying that he was going to ‘virgin’ you? You couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say, only mustering up the courage to poorly explain your sexual status to him, first in english and then in a broken version of his language. You tried to repeat yourself, thinking you might have said your statement wrong-- but Yve’s shocked expression and sudden lack of kisses seemed to prove you wrong. 

“You have…. Sex?” Yve put a hand to his mouth, eyes begging you to respond.

“Uh….yes?” You said with an awkward expression; you hoped he was asking what you thought.

Yve’s let out a choked gasp, looking as if you had crushed his heart in your palm. 

He looked down, voice cracking as he mumbled something incoherent, and likely not understandable to you in the first place. 

“I….I i’m sorry?” You tried to apologize, seeing how shaken Yves had become at finding out you weren’t as inexperienced as he. Despite his eagerness, you could tell he was new to trying to initiate something you had already grown long accustomed to, new to being so intimate. It was actually in part of his eagerness that you realized he wasn’t of the same sexual history. He was full of anticipation and desire, throwing caution and logic to the wind to fulfill what he had read in books and seen in films.

 Yves seemed to treasure the act of losing ones virginity far more than you had-- but you had only noticed it now. The candlelit dinner, the mood-fitting music-- your first experience was nowhere near as romantic. 

Yves seemed shaken, his low, almost sob-filled words growing heavier. He grew more aggressive, seeming to realize something now that he had processed this unexpected news. He had assumed you were just as much of an amateur as him-- that he’d be the one to “deflower” you in an act of passionate romance-- a bubble fantasy that had just been popped. But the male realized-- if he couldn’t have his desired outcome, he’d have to make due with what he had. Which was to make sure you’d fall to your knees, experiencing the best night of ‘passion’ that would make you never want to crawl to another man again. 

He was going to claim you-- to make it so those nights you spent with others never counted. 

You could only understand a fifth of what Yves breathily moaned into your mouth, once again jumping your bones though this time much more roughly. Before you could say anything further you had felt his quick hands unbutton your pants, his own thrown to the floor. He didn’t listen as you begged him to atleast let you move to the bed, where you would no longer be visible to prying eyes on the balcony. But he didn’t care-- Yves had already taken off his shirt, intent on ripping yours away too. He didn’t care anymore if this wasn’t going to be special for the reason he expected-- he was going to make sure you would be left with a night you wouldn’t forget.

[juneymont]

SHARPUARY: DAYS 27 & 28: Bric-a-Brac & Smirk

“Tosh!” Aesop scoffed.

His scoffing always made Anna giggle, even though she was feeling particularly nostalgic today. And quite bittersweet.

Sunday — tomorrow — was September first. A whole slew of new students would begin their classes. Aesop would be back to work, off to the races as it were, deep in the thick of it.

As he should be, she told herself. She admired his work ethic, after all. But it pulled at her heartstrings in ways that confused her.

What was most confusing, in fact, was how she wasn’t confused at all. She was decidedly in love with him. Her former professor. A man nearly twenty years her senior. Impossible. Certainly impossible.

(More pics at the end)

But she could not deny the feeling that had grown, ever since spending time with him during her detention — gods, could that be nearing a year ago, now? — And ever since learning more about him on their ‘chance meeting’ walks around the grounds that happened periodically, come the new year. And ever since he began to teach her to draw — the excuse they used to justify almost daily meetings over the summer.

Indeed, she deeply loved this enigma of a man, standing before her, who obscured his handsomest, most interesting attributes behind an even handsomer, more interesting face and (in her opinion) unnecessarily thick skin.

With a chuckle, she pleaded in a playful way, “what ‘tosh!?’ Isn’t that what it’s called? Bric-a-brac?” She gestured about his office, laden with dusty old books and journals, colorful jars full of mysterious liquids — some foul-smelling, but enticing. There were relics, herbs, and all sorts of antiquities piled haphazardly on his shelves. “I can help you sort through this, you know. Get rid of it.”

Aesop, who fancied himself a ‘collector,’ ran his hand down his face in exasperation. At least, that’s what he wanted her to think. But she had grown to understand this was a gesture he used to hide the fact that she was onto him.

“No, Miss Pendergast,” he chided, emphatically, almost-but-not-quite using his Professor Voice with her but still falling into the habit of referring to her in the way he always had within the walls of this institution and space. He was, after all, still telling himself that he was keeping her at arms distance, and his use of the formal name gutted her a bit.

Aesop stammered when he continued, feeling flustered by her unfailing ability to see through him and be frank about it. And the way she was looking at him was dizzying, her eyes so hopeful and bright and melancholy.

What was she thinking? He wondered.

“They’re artifacts…and…important things,” he justified as she walked closer to him. “Things that might…help me. You know — the curse. I might need them.” He raised his eyebrows and accentuated his words with coordinated nods of his head. It made Anna giggle to think that all he was missing was the toddler-like motion of balling his fists up and stamping in place. “Wouldn’t want to get rid of something I need later,” he said sternly. “You never know.”

She stood within reaching distance. It was a long, quiet moment that felt weighty in its effervescence. Their eyes traced one another’s faces. He could almost feel her breath. She could most certainly feel his from the way he towered above her and looked down at her eager, heavily freckled face.

If either of them had opened their mouths about it, they’d have found mutual relief in the fact that they were feeling the same thing: pain. Pain at the notion of seeing less of one another. Pain at the notion of Anna’s internship starting at the Ministry, and taking her to London. Pain at the notion of Aesop’s semester starting and his inevitably becoming focused again on work. Pain at the notion of being apart.

An idea crossed Aesop’s mind. “Well, perhaps—“

“—yes?”

“Perhaps I could stand to…organize it. All this bric-a-brac,” he said with a smirk, mocking her label for his treasures.

“Oh?”

He nodded subtly and held her gaze. Her blue eyes were other-worldly to him.

“I could...”

She nodded, softly, with encouragement.

“Well, I suppose I could use some help with that, if your offer stands.”

Anna’s body flooded with excitement and a hundred ways she could tackle his space. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to!” Her voice lilted like dancing sun rays throughout his office. She could start bottom-to-top or from corner to corner. “I could come once a week!” She could empty the drawers and dust the shelves. “Maybe Sunday mornings?” She knew she could make this office sparkle!

She felt like she could fly to have a consistent reason to return to him - the locus of her heart. And in her exuberance, bouncing to the balls of her feet and bringing her hands up in excitement, her fingertips brushed against his and it stopped her, immediately, plastering her grin to her lips and sucking the air out of her lungs and silencing her voice in her throat in the best way.

She had to have more.

Looking down, Anna took a breath and confidently hooked her slender index finger around Aesop’s larger, calloused one. And this simple contact, in this profound confessional moment — which lacked any spoken confession at all — was the first time Aesop dared to believe the ridiculous, preposterous, unfathomable notion that this woman, who would some day become his wife, just might feel for him what he deeply, truly felt for her.

[slytherhys]

Threads of Fate and Magical Pubs

Happy Yulemas Swap to the wonderful @talkfantasytome ! You wanted a meet-cute and I tried to deliver. I've also added a bit of a magical flare to the whole thing so I really hope you enjoy this. x

word count: 2,227

Rowan wrapped his coat tightly around him as another shiver ran down his body. The wind howled, snowflakes floating around him and coating his skin in icy layers. Once upon a time, he had found the Orynth weather lovely, a far-cry from the mild winters he usually got back in Doranelle – but as the years went by, Rowan couldn’t help but miss the warm winters of home, how the sun seemed to shine all year long. 

Rowan felt particularly bitter about the chill as he walked the streets of the Terrasen capital alone – on Christmas Eve, nonetheless. 

It hadn’t been the original plan – no, that had been to spend the holidays with Lyria’s family in their country home, possibly celebrating something other than Christmas. Rowan couldn’t help but scoff at the reminder of the engagement ring that remained inside his bedside table – not forgotten; simply rejected. 

And despite it all: despite the ring, despite the tears and the anger, Rowan couldn’t help but feel…relieved. And maybe Lyria knew that as well, could see it on his face when he popped the question that had done more evil than good. Maybe that’s why she had left him just 10 days before Christmas with an empty apartment and a ring he hadn’t even wanted to give her in the first place. 

But why shouldn’t he have? Lorcan surely did it - merely months after meeting Elide, might he add - and they were happy. In love. When Rowan’s mother had visited him and given him the family heirloom, Rowan felt it was obvious what he had to do. 

Apparently, not so much. 

Definitely not, if the fact he was wandering through the streets of Orynth on Christmas Eve alone was any indication. 

Truth was, he wasn’t sure where to go. He had woken up hungover, after having one too many drinks at his company’s holiday party, and the idea of staying in his empty apartment had almost sent him hurling. He hadn’t even had the time to get a tree, for Hellas sake. How depressing was that? 

Lorcan and Elide had invited him to spend the day with them but, honestly, he was doing them a favour by not going. Rowan appreciated his friends entirely too much to let them be tainted by his own grieves. Sure, he was more hungover than heartbroken but the sentiment remained: he’d be shit company today. And tomorrow, for that matter.

Maybe he should go back home. His family would be thrilled, even if his mom was still trying to wrap her head around the fact she wouldn’t be getting a new daughter-in-law anytime soon. He’d have no trouble finding a new job and he could live with his parents until things settled down and he could buy his own house… But was the idea of going home really that enticing? Despite being from Doranelle, Rowan wasn’t sure the country was his home anymore. 

But then again, was Orynth? 

Rowan had just decided to go back to his lacklustre apartment when he rounded the corner, coming face to face with a… pub. How he hadn’t missed it was a mystery - other than a flickering light signalling the fact it was open, nothing about the place justified his attention being caught. And yet, as if a pressuring nudge to his shoulder, Rowan felt the need to go inside. Maybe it was the cold, he thought. Or maybe it was the fact it was open on Christmas Eve. 

It wasn’t as if it was exactly odd for stores to be open on Christmas Eve in Orynth, but it was usually bakeries and grocery shops for any last-minute buyers. Certainly never the pubs. Not that Rowan was complaining. Maybe some mulled-wine was exactly what he needed today - and the warmth of a closed space would be a nice bonus as well, Rowan thought as he pushed the heavy door open.

The Wild Stag - an obvious nod to Terrasen’s infamous history with the wild beast - was a cosy reminder of the past. Wooden chairs and tables dotted the large room that appeared to have been built around the times of the first king and queen of Terrassen, the royal coat of arms cut into the wood itself - just above the fireplace - in a beautifully detailed carving that Rowan suspected even the Royals themselves would appreciate. 

Behind the counter an elderly and hunched man, with tan skin and grey hair pulled into a bun, filled large mugs with whatever ale he had on the tap. He had a kind face, marked with a life well-lived. To his side, an equally old man eyed him with love and mirth as he held out drinks to a blonde woman. They all looked close…Like a family that had formed in the absence of the real thing. 

As far as Christmas company went, Rowan suspected he could do a lot worse.

The man with the bun looked up, smiling gently as he noticed Rowan’s frozen figure standing by the door. The blonde left the counter without a glance back, carrying a small tray with entirely too many drinks on it - and yet without spilling a single drop. Rowan eyed her with polite appreciation, quickly looking back at the old man who now eyed him suspiciously. 

“Merry Christmas,” He said, a thick accent to his voice that Rowan identified from the south of Adarlan. “What can I get you, lad?”

Rowan frowned as he sat at the wooden stool. He had just gotten drunk last night, was he really in the mood to do it again? “Do you, erm,” He said, looking at the chalkboard menu with squinting eyes. “Do you have any food?”

“Depends what you’re looking for.” The man simply said - and why that phrase made his heart beat a little faster, he didn’t know. 

“Company.” He muttered, not really sure why he said the word. Mainly as the old man eyed him with entirely too much interest, a glint to his eyes.

“Aren’t we all,” He drawled, nodding behind him. Rowan turned slightly with a frown. 

The pub was packed, much to Rowan’s surprise. He hadn’t even noticed it - what with the dim-light and the delirium of not being freezing anymore - but everywhere he looked people were sitting at tables, on the worn leather couches surrounding the fireplace, either eating or drinking, but always happily chatting with whoever was closest. A traditional Yulemas carol played on the jukebox as a few patrons listened teary-eyed, their eyes unseeing as they relieved Christmases-past. It was as if he staring at a surreal Christmas postcard - a memory playing right in front of his eyes. To whom it belonged, he couldn’t tell. It felt more natural not to know. 

The blonde from before seemed to fly in between tables, her golden hair flowing behind her as she served patron after patron, leaving laughter and interest behind. Something inside his chest seemed to flutter as she laughed loudly at one of the patrons and not for the first time that evening, Rowan wondered why exactly he had ended up wandering the streets of Orynth; why exactly he was now standing inside a pub he had never noticed in all his years living in the city. 

Aren’t we all, Rowan thought as he frowned. 

He shook his head, pushing loose thoughts to the side. Maybe these people were alone just like him, looking for a safe, warm place to spend the night with. And if he had been lucky enough to find them as well, why would he complain? Maybe it was okay, he thought as he eyed the blonde, to let strangers be your warm embrace for the night. 

Rowan turned, his cheeks immediately heating once he noticed the heavy scrutiny of the old man. “So what can I get you?” He pressed, tilting to his tone that Rowan couldn’t quite understand.

A sweet familiar scent reached his nose, gone before he even had a chance to taste it.  He cleared his throat. Why was it suddenly dry? “Just some mulled-wine, please.” Surely getting drunk with other people was less sad than doing it alone, right? Right.

“What brings you around, lad?” The barman’s sturdy voice sounded again just as he served him some spiced-wine. Rowan stared at the cup, frowning as he thought about an answer. 

What exactly was he supposed to say? That he had been dumped a few days ago by his long-term girlfriend who he wasn’t even sure he loved? That he had a perfectly good apartment but it felt too empty for Christmas, too cold even though it was all due to his own doing? Every possible reason sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, and as the old man stared at him, wisdom pouring out of his pores, Rowan felt a bit ridiculous too.

Pretty blondes and gut-feelings aside, he didn’t belong here. He wasn’t even sure he belonged anywhere anymore. And maybe the wine was top quality, and the smell of whatever was cooking in the kitchen was enough to make his mouth water, but truth was - this wasn’t his Christmas. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” Rowan smiled sadly, his eyes never leaving the untouched copper-cup. 

The barman lifted a shoulder. “I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” He said cryptically, and why Rowan felt his heart race again, he didn’t know.

“I should go,” He shook his head, standing up as he reached for a coin, dropping it clumsily onto the bar as he backed away. The barman raised his brows but remained silent as he watched Rowan back away, a cryptic smile on his face. “I’m so sorry. Merry Christm-”

The noise hit him before he even realised what had happened: a female squeal, the sound of glass shattering against the wooden floor and the echoing clatter of an aluminium platter hitting the floor. Rowan’s hands were wrapped around something - no, someone -  his breathing heavy as he stared with wide eyes at the waitress from before - her turquoise eyes staring right back, so wide they resembled the burning sea. 

Rowan winced as he took in her body - absolutely alluring, yes - but also covered in ale, wine and what appeared to be…fries. Rowan choked as he tried to think of something to say - an apology first and foremost.

“I think you can let go of me,” her melodic voice was like a balm to his self-induced meltdown. Rowan frowned, not quite understanding what she meant until he realised his hands were still wrapped around her arms. He let go of her like her skin was on fire, taking a step back for good measure as he stumbled with his words. 

“I’m so sorry.” He groaned. “I wasn’t seeing where I was going and then you-”

A ghost of a smirk. “I’m aware of what happened.” She teased, and Rowan found he liked it when she did that.

Rowan felt himself blush for what was probably the first time in years. Odd. “Merry Christmas.” He added for some reason, and if not for the melodic chuckle she let out, Rowan would’ve left the pub running. He could feel the judging look the barman was sending his way and to be fair, he couldn’t really blame him this time. He was making an absolute ass of himself, as if he had only learned how to talk to girls hours ago. He was 28 years old, for Hellas sake!

“Merry Christmas…” She prompted with two raised brows. 

“Rowan.” Rowan replied with an ease he didn’t feel. Mainly when he could feel his entire body tighten as she stared at him. 

“Rowan. I’m Aelin.” She said, and never had anything sounded as beautiful. Rowan felt himself smile down at her, pleased with the way her cheeks darkened. “And what brings you to this lovely joint on Christmas Eve, of all days?” She grinned, and despite the flutter he felt in his stomach, Rowan couldn’t help but feel pleased at the sliver of nervousness he saw in her widened gaze. 

Did she feel it too, then? As if suddenly everything simply made sense in the world. 

Rowan looked back at the barman, a satisfied smile on his lips as he served more ale to new customers - two of them, each more nervous-looking than the other. Rowan wondered, just for a silly second, if maybe there was a reason lost souls wandered into this pub. If maybe, by some Christmas miracle (and he put that loosely) these people had found a way right to where they needed to go. 

“I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” 

Rowan looked down at Aelin; at the pink that tinted her cheeks, at the lock of hair that stubbornly kept curling in front of her eyes. 

He had never believed in fate; tales of such fortune had all seemed childish and nonsensical most of his life. And yet, in that cosy pub on Christmas Eve, Rowan couldn’t help but think that maybe - just maybe - he was, indeed, right where he was supposed to be. 

“I’m not sure yet,” He chuckled softly. “But I’m willing to find out.” He added and if the brilliant grin Aelin sent his way was any indication, maybe she too was searching for something. Maybe she too thought that maybe she just had found it. 

Merry Christmas indeed.

[kwiis]

MHA brain rot

2497 words. Slice of life-esque (i’m just having fun writing tbh, i think i’m reeaaallly funny)

Reader x someone in mha idk, reader works at some sort of firm.

Working in an office was bland.

You weren’t a secretary or anything, just a person in a glass box going through pages and pages of someone else’s finances.

Clients come and go, there’s the occasional gossip spread by a particularly mean group of middle aged women with the gall to hide daggers in their sleeves just to get ahead of everyone but other than that, there was nothing to do. If it wasn’t for the severe desperation for money that kept you going then you would’ve - A) turned into a Disney princess and live happily ever after with a bird on each shoulder, or B) turned into a hero (or a villain, they’re equally as enticing) ; however, neither of the options seemed likely.

Frankly, you as a whole just weren't that interesting. Your quirk, nullify - as they like to call it, literally doesn’t do anything other than prevent your body from being physically damaged by quirk related attacks, you can’t even control it for gods sake it was - and still is - always on as if you were a light with a broken switch. What are the odds that you manage to pull the most boring quirk from the genetic gacha machine - worst of all, neither of your parents carried this quirk so where the fuck did it come from? Were you a secret lovechild? Is mom and dad not telling you something? God knows. Thankfully, once you reached 17 your parents were kind enough to tell you whence your quirk came and that your grandma had the same quirk. Finally, one mystery solved.

Fast forward a few years and now here you are, working in an office, bound to four walls for - what feels like all eternity but is actually just 7 hours - a day. Excluding the regular overtime that your boss likes to indirectly inflict upon you. Calling him a menace would be an understatement, more like a 4 armed hell-raising demon. It’s like he flips a coin everyday and asks “should I be an asshole or a huge asshole today?”.

You’d been working at the office for a good couple of years yet you still lived in a shadier part of the city, you weren’t a thug of course but that college debt did some real damage to your sad, sad bank account, if a bank account could frown, yours would’ve been violently sobbing with its snot pooling on the floor. You could’ve chosen to live with your parents but the thought of burdening them for a few more years felt wrong ; so what better way is there to save money than to move into the cheapest, habitable apartment you can find and live off of plain pasta until you can afford to move out? And honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Sure there were loud inconsiderate neighbours, sporadic flickering lights and some unearthly being that you were convinced is the ghost of the past tenant living in your home but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

— — — — — — — — — —

You gather your documents and files into a small briefcase and leave the office. Yet again, your boss had piled more papers on your desk with a sly smile on his face and the words ‘good luck with your client’ leaving his lips. This man is the embodiment of all the reasons why you hate work. By the time you finished it all, it’d already been long past 11pm so no busses were running leaving you to walk back home with your briefcase clutched in your arms. Considering the whereabouts of your apartment, you knew better than to look back when you hear screams being ripped from some poor man’s throat during what you hope assume is a mugging.

Just a few more blocks until you reach home, all you have to do is turn right, walk straight, turn right again into the alleyway to the hidden entrance of your building and… Oh…

There lies your landlord, snivelling on the ground, begging for forgiveness and a…? man? Is that a man? With, what seems to be, strips of overcooked bacon stapled on his face and a parade of blue flames emanating from his palms, threatening to burn the whole building down if my landlord doesn’t pay up for owning a property in his territory. What a fucking joke - who does this man think he is? a magician? Can’t he take his burnt meat elsewhere and perform somewhere that isn’t directly in front of your building?

You're tired, agitated and overall exhausted, but you choose to turn back around the corner and pretend you didn’t see anything knowing that intruding would just make things worse for both you and your landlord. Unluckily for you, you hear the charred man say ‘What was that?’ and slow footsteps walking your way. Thinking under pressure was never your strong point and now, it will be the death of you. Your eyes dart around the dimly lit street for places to hide and then it hits you. You can't hide, not here in an empty street with trash cans full of trash, but you certainly refuse to die now. You start looking for escape routes and then the dark shape of the ladder to your building’s rooftop - which you caught a thief clambering up once - comes into view and bingo! Within a matter of seconds you’re gone, scuttling up the same ladder like a gravity-defying rat with a briefcase that threatens to fall with each movement you take to grab for the ladder.

Once you reach the summit and climb onto the roof, you peer down and see the same burnt-being squinting up your way. Triumphantly, you put both your middle fingers up and watch his brows furrow in pure anger at the sight of your smug expression. Ok maybe you shouldn’t have done that but whatever, you got back to your apartment in one piece, the contents of your briefcase made it home relatively intact and he didn’t follow you home.

In due time you’d come to find out that the lump of coal you had encountered was actually the infamous villain, Dabi, from an uprising villain group known as ‘the League Of Villains’.

— — — — — — — — — —

The following day, you had work, again. And once again, that demon your boss made his daily visit to your desk, dropping so many files onto your desk that you could practically hear the workload - thus, stripping you off the privilege of taking the bus back home. And once again, you took your regular stroll back home, unwillingly basking in the blearing lights from street lamps and police cars.

The moment you opened the door, something felt wrong.

But then again you were too tired and overworked to really care, all you wanted to do was plant your face in between your pillows and turn yourself into a bamboo shoot.

When you turned on the light, the unsightly figure of the man from last night came into focus. Dabi? Was it? You should’ve been fearing for your life and running at your fastest speed but instead, you let out an exasperated huff as you plop your briefcase down and look him straight in the eye. ‘What do you want? I’m exhausted so make it quick’.

Dabi’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at your reaction, he is a murderous criminal standing in your apartment and you’re carelessly worrying over your physical exhaustion, but then again, dressing up in a greasy wifebeater (what an ironic name because that’s exactly what he looks like he’d do to his wife) and a black trench coat that looks like it was sewn together by a 4th grader, makes him look like the weird mean kid from toy story (Sid, the kids name was Sid); he looked significantly less frightening than other villains.

‘how dare you talk to me like that.’ you hear him bellow.

In one swift motion his hand reaches for your wrist and a bright blue flame is pressed onto your skin, you don’t feel fear however, quite the contrary, after all, we all die eventually and frankly, you really didn’t mind dying at the hands of some brazen man with burnt flesh, at least it sounded like a cool and mysterious way to go. But then the stench of this man wafted into your nostrils, how can a man smell like both a wet dog and rotten milk simultaneously, his awful odours might as well be classified as one of the worlds many mysteries, gods, if this is the last thing you smell… and suddenly, your will to live has returned.

After a few seconds, you realise that the flames are taking no effect thanks to your quirk. You have never once been so grateful for your useless quirk. All you can feel is his warm wrinkled flesh on your skin, gross. A few more beats of silence later and some intense bewildered staring and you decide that tonight is gonna be a long night. Is he gonna keep holding your hand all night? Can't he find someone else to hold hands with? What a creep.

‘Who the fuck you calling a creep? I am Dabi, Japan’s best pyromaniac. My flames are more powerful than Endeavours.’ He replies.

‘Get a load of this guy’ you snort under your breath.

Fuck. You said that out loud.

His jaw slacks in awe and his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to squirm out of his grasp and make it run for it. As soon as you reach the outside, fresh, breathable air hits your nostrils and you find yourself apologising for ever saying the city stinks. Behind you were Dabi’s footsteps chasing after you hurriedly, you know this area like the back of your hand so it was no surprise that Dabi lost you eventually, although, by the end of the chase you definitely were hacking up an organ or two and most likely would’ve just dropped dead if it weren’t for the kind, sturdy trash can that gave you enough support to stand. You could hear his frustrated yelling from the main street as you stood catching your breath in an alley, take that sucker, one point to you.

— — — — — — — — — —

Great. Even though you managed to escape Dabi’s grimy hands, you were now in search of a place to sleep, obviously you can't go back to your apartment now because what if that abomination of a human-being was sitting there, waiting for you? Why must the gods target you, what heinous sin could you have possibly committed for them to test you so often, sure once you accidentally melted a whole box of your best friend’s Lego’s in your youth and every so often you succumb to certain human desires but that can’t possibly be the reasoning for your misfortune, why must they choose you and not some other yahoo living an equally miserable life to play with. As you contemplate your life choices, seeking refuge in a nearby hotel for a few days is the only option and thankfully, your area had tons, you just needed to find the right one. Easy enough right?

It took a while of course but eventually you stumbled across a decent looking hotel that looked the right amount of cheap and the right amount of liveable. You walked across the dust-covered carpet and up to the main counter where a woman who looked about her mid 50’s greeted you by looking up from her book, lifting her glasses and looking you up and down with an eyebrow raised to the roof. Well… the customer service might not be great but maybe the rooms will be okay… Upon requesting for a standard room, in which she replied with a silent nod, she gestured for you to follow her, walking up a series of staircases and down an uncomfortably narrow hallway to your room. It wasn’t a great room but it’s far better than what you expected. What you couldn’t understand, however, was why there was a king size bed?

‘I’ll let you know when your partner gets here’

Oh. OH.

By the time you compose yourself enough to respond she’s already halfway down the hallway, turning into the stairwell. Well, it’s better than nothing, who were you to complain about a bigger bed?

You didn’t bring any of your belongings with you but your wallet and phone were stashed in your pocket so you decided to order some takeout. Prices seemingly disappear when you’re running on nothing but the aftereffects of adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream, alas, you settled on 2 small dishes and 1 main dish.

As you leave your room and make your way down to the stairwell, another door swings open and a 5’9 male dressed in a black hoodie and some really worn down jeans walks directly into you (you note down his general appearance to make the police report quicker just incase). His frail frame knocks both of you over like a couple of bowling pins. You’re quick to apologise fearing that he may be some sort of hardened criminal with no mercy for poor, sweat covered people, standing up and going over to help him up, when you realise this man has absolutely no muscle. You’re surprised that he didn’t shrivel away and disintegrate into a pile of bones the moment your bodies collided with all things considered. You reach your hand out, wholly expecting him to accept it but instead he backhand slaps it away with a sharp tsk. He looks up at you and you take note of his features, scruffy white/blue-grey hair, a deep scowl painted over his features, red eyes burning with agitation - which is most definitely your fault, very very arid skin, a scar draped over the corner of his lips, giant eye bags and wrinkles, his neck littered in self-inflicted scratches, and in a sense, he had somewhat cat-like features - but then again who are you to judge, here you are drenched in sweat on your way to collect your greasy takeout.

‘Ah I’m really sorry about that’ you say apologetically, in all honesty this was actually his fault for walking into you so carelessly and yet you were the one apologising.

Before he can reply, a voice behind him calls. ‘What are you doing on the floor Shigaraki?’

Shigaraki…? Sounds familiar.

[myremains]

The career trajectory of Sheffield’s Bring Me The Horizon is something I would never have predicted. Not the change in sound and style, the sheer fame and popularity they would reach, the huge venues they’d sell out, none of it. With these guys you never know whether you’re getting some grit or mainstream appeal, it’s always a guessing game, but that adds to the mystique and mystery. 2024 marks 20 years of BMTH and in that time they’ve put out 9 very different albums.

A lot of the tracks have been out for a while now - arguably I didn’t fully appreciate some of them until now - so let’s recap. Back in 2021 we got “DiE4u” which really didn’t land with me, it was too - for lack of better words - glittery and shiny even though I can see what they went for, it just wasn’t for me. 2022 they dropped “sTraNgeRs” which I didn’t even pick up on till this album dropped and now is easily my favourite Bring Me The Horizon song of all time, another testament to the relatability between the band and the audience, the pain beckons to you and swallows you whole. Almost exactly a year ago we got “LosT”, which is extraordinarily inviting with a melancholy sweetness relatable to anyone who has suffered from mental health issues, depicting the mask we wear when the pain is scratching beneath the surface, grabs me every time. A month later we had “AmEN!” featuring Lil Uzi Vert and Glassjaw vocalist Daryl Palumbo, it was like a left hook from Mike Tyson, it’s incredible from start to finish, one of the heaviest songs they’ve put out in a long time, the ear shattering explosive drop at the end makes me so happy. October last year brought “DArkSide”, a harrowing oh so familiar story around feeling suicidal, the haunting melody entices and the darkness of the subject seeps in through the skin, chilling. Then finally and what seems to be the most popular of all the singles was “Kool-Aid”, initially I was resistant but before long I was doing the claps like everyone else, it’s beautiful metaphor for the current climate of society, with a sugary sour crashing of tones made purposefully to damage the human neck. “liMOusIne” guest features Norwegian singer songwriter AURORA, I have to tell you straight away that this is basically a Diamond Eyes era Deftones song, that’s not necessarily a bad thing as Deftones are phenomenal however the likeness is a touch too uncanny to be mistaken, I’m never going to discourage them from utilising this style in the future and quite frankly it breaks the album up with something new. “YOUtopia” is another Deftonesy track but the difference with this one I felt was that it was influenced by them rather than pretty much just being something they’ve written. “n/A” was a big track from my perspective, it’s a very steady acoustic track about addiction that picks up more and more as the track goes on, I feel an indie influence at play but that contrasted with the lyrics makes an unusual setting for lyrics such as “Make Love To A Chainsaw”, it’s my jam.

After the first part of the Post Human series, they proved they could take us by surprise and reminded us exactly who they are, it ignited a fire of hope inside me and with this big sparkling diamond of a record I believe will stand the test of time. I never thought I’d find a replication of that feeling of exploring Sempiternal again, by no means is there a replication but full evolutionary step. Ok guys, I get it, I’ll keep my mouth shut about your going soft, you just do you and keep the journey as exciting and mysterious as you’ve managed to thus far.

[10/10]

[sabraeal]

don’t speak boyshit, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

“Inomata-san?” Most girls would be thrilled to be the object of attention for the Prince of Third Year, utterly breathless by the way his gaze follows them across a room, seeing sparkles with every bat of his eyelashes. “You’re looking very...determined this morning.”

The rest of the female student body might also squeal at the wisps of blond curling over their desk, thrilled that Yagi-kun deigned to rest his head so close to their own fingers. But Maria simply frowns, dropping her pencil case near enough to endanger his well-being. Or at least the integrity of his haircut.  “I didn’t ask you.”

His smile tightens by the smallest flinch, imperceptible to anyone whose vision blurs to pink and bubbles when he breathes.

“Inomata-san.” It’s impressive how normal he can seem when there’s no chubby cheeks around to entice him. “I’m only trying to be friendly.”

“You should try that on someone who would appreciate it,” she suggests, sliding into her chair. It takes a moment for her to organize all her limbs-- girls may stop growing at her age, but she’s still never gotten used to all the extra inches-- but when she’s nearly folded and tucked, Yagi’s still there, curious. “There’s a whole classroom full of girls who don’t know you well enough to know there’s something wrong with you.”

One end of a perfectly shaped eyebrow twitches. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

Maria squints down at him, the same way Galileo must have when he stared into the sun. “I’m not trying to impress you.”

The blinding brightness of his smile doesn’t blur or dim, but this close, Maria could swear a nerve jumps in his jaw. “That much is clear.”

“Yagi-kun...” After three years as the sole female in the Advanced Course who is safe to sit next to the Class Prince-- a dubious honor doled out her first year after the disastrous mid-term seat change-- she’s nearly in expert in the gradation of weariness in Nezu’s sighs. This one suggests that he should have stayed home if they were going to be in this sort of mood today. “Stop bothering Inomata-san.”

With all the speed guilt can provide, Yagi springs up from his seat, smile dialed up to its max wattage. “Ah, Chuukichi-kun, good morning! I wasn’t bothering her, we were only--”

Nezu slants her a dubious glance.

“I was handling it,” she assures him, “but thank you.”

“H-hey!” That sunny smile shines itself close to a grimace. “I mean it. I was just trying to compliment her.”

With a toss of his head, the wild thicket of Nezu’s hair parts just enough to reveal a rare glimpse of his forehead-- one that is furrowed with incredulity. “Uh-huh.”

“Really! Inomata-san came in with a spring in her step. Or, er--” his voice falters under the strength of their combined stare “--as close as she comes. I assume this means that you had some progress with your romantic endeavors.”

It’s Maria’s turn for her eyebrows to take a hike up her forehead. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what you’ve been frowning over the past few weeks, isn’t it?” He darts a glance at Nezu, as if confirmation might come from that quarter, only to be met with resounding confusion. “You said Inomata-san asked you about boys just a few weeks ago, right, Chuukichi-kun?”

He has the grace to flinch under her glare. “Ah, yes, but I didn’t think you’d, er...”

Be interested, the slope of his shoulders says. His glare, however, implies, didn’t think you’d run your mouth off about it.

“I was surprised you didn’t come to me.” Yagi’s popularity has always been one of life’s mysteries, another sign that she’s not like the other girls in her class, a statistical outlier destined to go uncounted. But looking at him now, all concerned and earnest and every inch what a class president should be--

Well, it’d be easy to get twitterpated under this sort of attention. If she didn’t know the precise amount of tissues he goes through when the children play house. 

“I’d be happy to help you.” Under the spotlight of his smile, it’s a struggle not to shrink back, to raise a hand to make some shade. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can figure this guy out.”

Nezu snorts. “You’ve never even been on a date.”

“Neither have you, and you got to help,” Yagi reminds him with his usual maddening calm. “I’m a boy, aren’t I? I’m sure that’s enough similarity for Inomata-san to--”

“Absolutely not!” The very idea that she could apply advice from this man and apply it to Kashima-- her skin shivers at the thought. “The two of you don’t have a single thing in-- in--”

(Shouldn’t it bother you that you’re stuck here with us? Usaida’s grin says he already knows the answer. I think most seventeen year olds would prefer to be celebrating with their friends.

Oh, no no! Kashima’s smile isn’t even the littlest bit strained. I like being here. The kids are so excited, and er... He must forget she’s here, playing house with Kirin in the corner, since he mutters, I think they’re a little easier to deal with than my classmates sometimes.)

“Really?” Yagi arches one of those perfect eyebrows of his; a girl three rows back squeals. “Not one thing?”

(He’s getting too big for it now, Kashima sighs, listing close enough to her that the cotton of his button-down brushes hers, but sometimes I just want to-- to-- it’s charming, how red he flushes --pinch his cheeks! Just a little.)

“It just wouldn’t work.” Her fingers curl, nails too short to cut her palms the way she’d like. It’d be grounding, if they could. “A-and you’re too late anyway! I already found someone else to help me.”

Yagi blinks, jaw so slack he could catch flies with it. “You don’t say. Who offered to...?”

“That’s privileged information.” Maria stifles a grimace. It’s the same answer her father pulls from his pocket every time she pushes too hard and too long on why she isn’t allowed to go to sleepovers, or about the Sunday plans that are too rigid to allow her to see a movie on Saturday, but-- well the last thing she needs is word getting around that she needs help from Kamitani. He’s not even in the Advanced Class. “And in any case, their advice will be much more helpful than anything you could give me.”

There’s a moment where that sunlight flickers, Yagi’s mouth flirting with the beginning of a frown before his mood clears to bright skies once again. “Is that so? I would have figured that someone as logically-minded as yourself would have wanted as much data as you could collect.”

He would have a point, if he was anyone else. As it was... “There’s no point in collecting from what’s sure to be an outlier.”

Nezu chokes. Impressive, since he hadn’t even seemed to be eating anything, but Yagi leans over, pounding him on his back until the sputtering stops.

“Well, if you’re sure,” he says, giving Nezu one last slap on his back for good measure. “I’m always here, if you change your mind.”

Maria’s mouth pulls as thin as her patience. “I won’t.”

Not as long Kamitani follows through, at least.

*

It’s not that Maria is impatient, per se. Excited, perhaps. Eager for the rush of data analysis, definitely. But impatient? Restless?

Certainly not. During homeroom, she doesn’t even think about the oddly powdery pages of those test booklets, never quite holding fast to the strokes of her pen. Even as far as first period, she never once dwells on the unique pleasure of being finally being the one that wields the corrective marks, scrawling red over what’s already written--

And then Yagi is called to the board, chalk squeaking as he works out a differential equation in his neat hand, clean enough it could have come from a textbook. The girl beside him flushes, hand trembling with the effort to make her bubbly numbers look as professional as his. In the end, it’s a failure, her own nerves making fours into x’s and b’s into sixes, until she has to write the whole thing out again, chalk dust dotting her uniform as she trudges back to her seat.

But the boy after them-- his answer has more in common with chicken scratch than letters, so cramped that even sensei has to squint. Maria snorts; no one will be asking her to letter any banners, but at least her handwriting doesn’t require the teacher to crouch down, as if being level with the mess might help untangle it. That sort of disaster seems to be entirely the purview of boys, Well, excepting Yagi-kun.

It’s only logical then, that she thinks of it. That her mind suddenly projects Kamitani’s test booklet into her hands, completed cover to cover. It falls open, draping over the smooth wood polymer of her desk, and--

And it’s utterly illegible. A thicket of hiragana that cuts as she tries to wrap her mind around it, brambles pricking at her palms she as teases out individual strokes. With the way he keeps his room, it could hardly be anything else; even if Kamitani gives her that booklet today, she’ll have to spend weeks wading through his answers, trying to uncover his meaning. Her syllabus will be in shambles.

The lunch bell isn’t the same complicated set of bings and bongs as the one that marks the start of homeroom, but Maria’s on her feet at the first note, out the door fast enough that the squeal of her school shoes puts a flourish on its final one.

“Mari-chi?” Kawata leans her hip against the door of 3-C, sipping at a strawberry milk. “You’re back today too?”

“Uh...” Her shoes skid to a stop just shy of that speculative stare, suddenly aware of how her hands are utterly empty of excuses. There’s no papers to pass to the office, no official business to shield her from scrutiny; even her lunch is left back in her bag, forgotten in her rush. “So it would seem.”

“Oooh, who are you looking for this time?” Yamane cranes her neck out around the corner, gaze sweeping up and down the hall. “Yuki-chan, maybe? You guys haven’t had lunch in a while.”

“Yuki just stepped out to drop off some papers for sensei,” Kawata informs her, bumping Yamane to the side. “I’m sure she’ll be back in just a few minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Ah, but I’m not, er...”

Honesty may be the best policy-- at least, that’s what Father always says-- but Yamane’s grin goes a little sharp, like a small puppy about to bite the neck of her favorite squeak toy, and only just clamps around the impulse before the girl asks, “Or maybe you’re here for someone else? Kashima--”

“Not him either!” she squeals, loud enough that a few passerby give pause, and oh, this isn’t worth it, not at all. There’s no point in making a spectacle of herself when it would just be easier to find that annoyance after school, or maybe even--

“What’s all the noise about?” Kamitani’s scowl is already firmly set when he insinuates himself in the doorway, but when he catches sight of her, it furrows deeper. “I should have known.”

There had been a plan when she left 3-A, a course of action; one that involved dragging Kamitani from his desk and demanding the data she’d so patiently waited for. But now that he’s here, one arm braced against the jamb, buttons popped above the vee of his cardigan, like he didn’t even bother to dress right--

“There’s a tie in our dress code,” she snips, “as a third year, you might bother to wear one.”

His eyebrows spring free of their furrow, hitching up his forehead until it’s no longer a scowl stretched across his mouth but a smirk. He shifts too, slipping past Kawata to lean against the outer wall, limbs so long Maria has to step back to avoid scuffing his shoes. “That right?”

“To...” It’s terrible how she feels a flush working up her neck as he watches her, far too pleased with himself. "To set a good example. To the younger students.”

“To the younger...?” Humor leaves him in a huff. “What are you doing over here, Inomata? Looking for someone to nag?”

His edges might be blunted by annoyance-- a feeling that’s mutual as far as she’s concerned-- but she can see the gleam in his eye, the tilt of his chin. He wants her to rise to his bait, to admit that, yes, she’s looking for him. A challenge she’s willing to meet, except--

Except that Kawata and Yamane are right beside them, stares burning into the side of Maria’s head.

“I...” Maria clears her throat, letting the motion pull her spine all the straighter. “Not anyone in particular.”

His mouth pulls tight, frustrated his little farce has been foiled. Good. Maybe now he’ll learn that silly games earn silly rewards.

“Cool.” It’s indecent the way that he pulls the word so long; insolent even. And only made worse by the wall he pulls away from the wall, one vertebra at a time. “Guess I’ll just go back in and--”

“Wait!” If she’d taken more than a moment to think, Maria would not have reached out. And if she’d done more than react out of simple panic-- well, she certainly wouldn’t have grabbed him, fingers locking tight over the pulse fluttering in his wrist. “Don’t...!”

It’s bad enough that he is staring at her, the already muddled color of his eyes made muddier with incredulity. But Kawata and Yamane--

They’re right there, watching with entirely too much interest, and-- and she doesn’t know how to do this. To put a patch over this whole debacle and slip out unscathed.

“Er...” She turns to them, stiff, her grip wrapped so tight it’s little more than bone and tendon itself. “Would you excuse us?”

Kawata’s expression hardly changes; she just darts the smallest, subtlest glance between the two of them and squeezes out, “Go ahead...”

“Yeah,” Yamane adds faintly. “Take your time...?”

*

The girls are quick to scuttle back into the classroom, but their wide-eyed glances through the door are a reminder that this is hardly a secure location. Certainly not free from prying eyes, and if the searing pressure at her back is any indication, any one of them will feel welcome to relate what happens between Kamitani and herself to the nearest willing ear. Which may, most distressingly, be Kashima’s. “Come with me.” 

It’s a pleasant surprise that he doesn’t struggle when she tugs him. She’s hardly gentle, either; panic and the threat of humiliation tightening her grip until her own fingers ache, she drags him down the hall with very little care to what obstacles might be behind her. Which there must be, it’s busy; most students in the upper school bring lunch, but there’s always a horde of boys ready to supplement their carefully crafted bento with the high-calorie offerings of the bread line.

One he might be in, if she hadn’t waylaid him. Not that the state of his stomach is precisely her top concern; she’s too busy shoving him into a stairwell to think about such petty things as physical needs. It takes climbing up one flight and down another before she’s content that there’s no malingerers, no underclassmen with big ears and bigger mouths to spread their business far and wide, and--

“You just about done?” he asks, utterly unimpressed. “I’ve got gym after this.”

Of course he has to ask her when she’s still catching her breath, winded from adrenaline and exertion. “Do you have it?”

His eyes narrow. “Have what?”

Oh, honestly. It’s not like she’s in the habit of just handing him things right and left. “You know what!”

She can practically hear the gears grinding behind that sour face; it takes entirely too long for his eyes to widen, for him to finally grasp the low hanging fruit of her meaning. “You wanted me to finish that today? Are you crazy? It’s got to be fifty pages.”

“Thirty-five,” she informs him, prim. “It’s shorter than most practice tests.”

“Yeah, but those tests are multiple choice,” he huffs. “Every one of yours is some...short answer or something!”

“Well, I’m asking for your opinion!” She tucks her arms over her chest, shoulders hiked high enough to brush her ears. “That should be easy for you, shouldn’t it? Since you love to give it entirely unprompted!”

“Me?” He straightens so quickly it’s a race to put space between them, her stepping back even as he looms. “I like to give my opinion--?”

If boys could breathe steam, Kamitani would. She can picture it, curling tendrils like smoke from a dragon’s mouth, all rushing from his nose in one great huff. That’s how he does it now, one huge exhale that seems to empty him right down to his toes.

“Fine,” he snaps, like even that’s more than he can chew. “I’ll get it done.”

Huh. Maria blinks. She hadn’t quite thought he’d give in; not that easily at least. “Tomorrow?”

He sneers. “Don’t push your luck. Soon, okay?”

Soon. Like she’s going to believe the timetable of someone who can’t move two feet to drop their underwear in the hamper. “You’re not getting my notes until you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shoulders past her, heading toward the door. “I get it.”

*

Kamitani’s version of soon, as she suspected, doesn’t conform to any accepted definition of the word. Or at least, not unless she would like to make progress at the same rate continents separate and divide. At this rate, maybe she’ll get to have a conversation with Kashima that isn’t about schoolwork or small children by the next ice age.

Honestly, you’d think with her-- highly coveted, never shared-- notes on offer, he’d be able to answer fifty simple questions. But Tuesday blends into Wednesday, and Wednesday into Thursday, and there might just as well have not been a weekend for how little relaxation brings, since by Monday morning, she is just as tense as she was when she confronted Kamitani by the bike rack, as if she hadn’t done any work at all.

It would be one thing if he had approached her like a civilized person; Maria may be eager but she is not inflexible. If between two clubs, his schoolwork, and his homework he had needed an extension, she would have been happy to give it. But oh no, after five days of coming all the way over to 3-C only to find he’s already left-- for bread, for club duties, for a conveniently timed bathroom trip-- she’s left to conclude that this is not all just happenstance. No, Kamitani Hayato is dodging her.

Well, fine. If that’s the way he wants to play, then Maria can play too. He can keep on slipping out of every room she enters, using his club-- and the men’s facilities-- as a shield, but Maria-- Maria--

She’s memorized Kashima’s schedule. A data set that just so happened to include the days Kamitani would be at his club, if only to assure minimal interference when she did deign to come down after her own. Last thing she needed was some grumpy manchild complaining about how he didn’t like sweets when she showed up with two bins of extra desserts.

“Inomata-san!” Kashima’s eyes round when he sees her in the doorway, jumping to his feet to greet her. “I-is there something you needed?”

His gaze drops down to her hands, and, ah, yes, maybe she should have brought something. An excuse, for one.

“No.” A glance over his shoulder counts five children, as it should, and Usaida, even if he’s just napping, but-- “Are you the only one here today?”

“And Usaida,” he offers staunchly, even if the man doesn’t deserve it. It’s a point she might stick on, if she didn’t have other useless boys to account for.

Maria squints, glaring a hole through the green apron still hung on its rack. “Doesn’t the baseball club have the day off?”

“Ah, yes, it does! But Kamitani came by just a minute or two ago to tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it.” Kashima smiles, entirely too used to the habits of his fair weather coworkers. “Apparently there’s something he needs to do with the manager today. He explained it but...well, I’ve never really been all that good at sports...”

He shrugs sheepishly. An act she’d typically savor, coming from Kashima, but today, oh, today--

She’s too busy thinking, how convenient.

*

“Is that Kamitani-kun?” One of the first years-- Makino, she thinks the girl’s name is, or maybe Miura-- steps away from her station, standing on tiptoe to see over the sill. “I thought baseball club got canceled because of the rain storm last night.”

“Of course it did,” Inui sniffs loftily over her batter, too good to follow suit. Still, Maria catches her glance, that small bob up on her toes while backs are turned to take a peek. “But Summer Koshien is only months away. Even if the team doesn’t practice, he and the manager still have to come up with their strategy.”

She spares an ingratiating little smile for Maria. “He’s going to take us all the way to nationals, you know.”

A lofty goal for a boy who can’t even take his clothes all the way to the hamper. Or keep to a perfectly rational timetable.

“But isn’t...” Makino-- Miura?-- drops her voice to the precise pitch gossip travels at. “Isn’t the manager a girl?”

Another one of the first years slides between them, wide-eyed. “Oh, do you think that they might...?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Inui snaps, cheeks flushed. “You can’t possibly think he’d go after the team manager when...”

The rest of that thought catches between her teeth, ones she turns right on Maria. “I suppose if someone were his girlfriend, though, they might get nervous about something like that. You know, their boyfriend spending so much time with another girl. Especially if there wasn’t much special about them to begin with.”

It’s not until Tanaka-san murmurs under her breath, “Don’t take her bait, senpai,” that Maria realizes it’s even meant for her.

Inui simply stands there, saturated in self-satisfaction, so sure that Maria will react. That somehow, the insinuation that Kamitani has something going on inside his head besides a rotating system of baseball scores and bad attitude will send her into a tailspin. That him tolerating some girl was any of business of hers to begin with.

Quite frankly, it’s insulting. Or at least, it would be, if she wasn’t too busy being annoyed that he might have devised some legitimate reason to be unavailable. Air hisses through her teeth just thinking about it. Unbelievable. The lengths he’ll go to to avoid doing her a single favor.

At least she knows now: if she wants those lessons, she’ll have to be the one to set the syllabus. “Kaichou, could you--?”

“What do you think, Inomata-senpai?” Inui grits the words through her sunny smile, never once letting it flag. She expects the first years to giggle, to flank her as they always do, but this time they simply stare at the girl, as if drawing attention to their snide asides is somehow beyond the pale.

It’s tempting to ignore her; it’s not as if she actually cares about that poor manager being cooped up with hours of Kamitani’s irritating company. But the air stills, and she realizes that the entire club is watching their exchange, even Tanaka and Suzuki-san. For some reason, her answer matters.

So Maria lifts her chin, letting her gaze snowball into a glare as it slides down the steep slope of her nose, and says, “I think if someone has to worry about who their boyfriend is with all the time, that is either a reflection of their own insecurity or their own poor taste. Either way,” she continues, bored, “I think it’s hardly any of your business.”

Unlike Inui, Maria has no need to see a reaction, instead she simply turns on her heel and says, “Kaichou, may I ask to borrow some of your culinary expertise?”

Tanaka-san stares at her, eyes so wide it’s obvious when they slip behind her shoulder, and even more so when they snap back. “Ah...my expertise?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I’m curious about the way one would go about constructing a bento.”

*

“Inomata-senpai.” Tanaka-san’s hands tremble in the air, first toward the containers, as if she might grab them, then to her hair, as if that might soothe, before pressing them both firmly onto the lab’s countertop. “I appreciate that you came to me for this, erm, important advice, but surely...you must know how to make your own?”

“I do.” Her mother does prefer to make them-- if my mother did it for me, she says, checking her watch to make sure that she will not be late for her train, then I must do it for you-- but part of Maria’s duties have always including picking up whichever balls drop in the juggling act of between motherhood and making partner. Lunch happens to be one of the more consistent ones. “But that’s different than when you make them for someone else.”

“A-and that’s what you’d be doing?” Tanaka-san’s eyes bounce around from table to table, hardly pausing to rest. That’s what makes her a good president; even when she’s giving her attention to one club member, she’s always keeping an eye on the others. “Making it for someone else?”

A quick breath steels her spine. “Yes. Hypothetically.”

“So this is a...hypothetical situation,” Suzuki-san asks, her stool dragged close. “You would hypothetically use this information, because there isn’t someone you’re hypothetically using it for?”

“I mean that I would like to learn the basic rubric of creating a bento for another person,” she clarifies, “so that I could conceivably make a passable meal for anyone in the future, not just to please the person I would make one for right at this moment.”

Suzuki-san swings her head toward the president, weary. “I think I’m more confused now. Is there someone, or--?”

“That’s not what matters right now,” Tanaka-san declares breathlessly. “Is it? Inomata-senpai wants to know the, um, rules of making one. What other people would expect if you were to give them one. Some...common sense?”

Maria nods. “Yes, exactly. Common sense is just what I’d like. The sort of things that are considered standard. Or if there’s any, er, hidden meanings to what dishes are made.”

The last thing she needs is to find out that edamame is a signal that you’d like to be kissed, or a sweet omelet means you desire the receiver carnally, or whatever other terrible shorthand simple dishes have become in the hands of the romantically inclined. It would just be sleeve-tugging all over again.

“Hidden...?” Tanaka-san blinks. “Ah, no, it’s just usually what your boyfriend likes to eat. Or, ah, whoever you’re giving it to!”

“What if...?” It’s a struggle to keep from grimacing. “What if you don’t...know?”

Suzuki’s giggle is light, more bells than belly, and it takes the sting from her reply. “Then you ask him!”

Doing that will give her an excellent idea about what Kotaru likes in his lunches, but Kashima, well... “That won’t work. Is there anything that boys like in general?”

“Ah...” Tanaka-san flushes. “I’m not sure I’m the one to ask. I’ve only had the one boyfriend, and not for that long...”

“I made a bento once!” Inui offers. “It was pretty good.”

“Really?” Miura-- no, Makino?-- asks, curious. “I thought you said not even the babies would eat it.”

Inui deflates. “Well, sure. But it looked good, that’s all that matters.”

“No.” Suzuki’s smile is too wide when she assures her, “It definitely has to taste good.”

“Maybe you should ask someone who has made a lot of bentos,” Tanaka-san suggests. “Or, ah...has received a lot of them...?”

“Yuna-chan,” Suzuki coughs, “are you telling Inomata-senpai to ask a popular boy. A prince type or something?”

Tanaka-san claps her hands to her cheeks, shaking her head. “N-no! I mean, maybe, if she knows one--”

With a sigh, Maria feels her mood sinking straight into her stomach. “I think I just might...”

*

“Inomata-san.” There’s a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Yagi-kun’s greeting this morning, his customary smile fading to a frown as she heaves herself into the seat behind him. “Is something the ma--?”

“I think,” she says, begrudging every word, “that I might need to consult your...personal expertise.”

[vagabondreamer]

Drunk Drabble

Summary: Mor meets a female at a club, and they immediately get intimate.

Note: I am very drunk rn. If you don't know me, I do these things called drunk drabbles where I drink and then proceed to write fanfic. It is NOT proofread, and not perfect obvi. Minors DNI.

Maybe it was the way she moved – or perhaps it was her constant glancing that triggered the events that followed that night. Mor was at Rita’s, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but the fact that she couldn't keep her eyes off a female was new. Although she danced with a male, she couldn’t help herself when it came to appreciating the female form. So vivacious and curvy, she was entranced once she laid eyes on the mysterious form. Her body reacted in a way that was only natural to her, her pheromones enticing the air around her, but the male behind her had no idea that it wasn’t him that was seducing her. She danced around him as if he was the one turning her on, but she couldn’t help herself. The female was beautiful - she hadn’t seen such beauty in years – hell, it had been such a long time she couldn’t fathom what would happen if she didn’t approach her. Smoothly she made her way to the female that couldn’t stop moving her body.

“Hey there beautiful,” Mor spoke confidently. It wasn’t much, but it made her intentions known that she was talking to one person and one person only. The female turned her attention to the stunning blonde. 

“Hi,” she replied. It wasn’t that she was necessarily shy, but her body was entranced to the music that played. Mor matched her rhythm, swerving and dipping at every right move. It didn’t take much to see that this female wasn’t interested in conversation, but rather she wanted to dance – to truly be free of whatever confines she felt was on her. Mor followed her lead, letting her body slide behind hers as no one else was occupying it. The movement was sensual, and down right dirty. But both females danced as if no one else existed in that room. 

“My place?” The mysterious female asked. It didn’t take Mor long to recognize the need that radiated off this female. 

“Absolutely,” was Mor’s only reply as she followed the lead of the other female.

They made it to a quaint apartment not far from the bar. There was no need for conversation as both females were on each other as soon as they entered the safety of the room. Clothes flew off in all directions as they were both laid bare in front of each other. 

“You’re beautiful,” Mor whispered to her companion. She blushed in reaction. The kiss they shared was shy at first, but soon it amped up to hunger and desire. Mor pushed her hands through the dark curls and savored every moment of the passionate kiss they shared. Soon her hands traveled to the unknown females’ breasts. The grasping alone almost sent Mor into a spiral, but she contained herself, knowing there was more to be discovered. Her mouth traveled down the female's form, sucking and licking at every inch of skin. Mor’s mouth reached her goal, and she tasted the sweet honey that leaked from the female’s pussy. She couldn’t get enough of the taste of her companion. She devoured her whole, like she had been waiting for this moment all of her life. The moans that accompanied her partner were out of this world, and Mor thought she could cum to it alone. As if her partner could hear her thoughts, she pulled Mor to face her and gently played with Mor’s clit – eliciting a high moan out of the female.

“Please,” Mor begged, not knowing if this female would grant her the pleasure of an orgasm as she played with her pussy.

Both females hungered after each other, making it their mission to finish off each other. As if on queue, they both began to plummet from their high. An intense release came out of Mor – one she hadn’t experienced in a long time.  

“Fuck – that was good.” she said to the mysterious female.

“It was fucking fantastic,” she agreed. They both stared at each other, not sure if they should recognize their shared feelings of euphoria. 

“We should do that again,” Mor said – practically begged.

“Fuck yeah.”

[itsatechreel]

My Thoughts on HBO Max’s “Velma”

Welp, I watched the first episode of “Velma” aaand yep, it was about exactly what I expected if not somehow a bit worse 🤦‍♂️ I wasn’t sure that I’d want to write out a review for it, but I’m mad and immediately fueled to talk about it, so let’s go.

⚠️ SPOILERS AHEAD FOR EPISODE 1 ⚠️

Literally the first scene of the whole show is Daphne and other students in a gym shower, very exposed, making a rough attempt at meta commentary, and all after the image of two cockroaches having sex..  😳 And that’s just one example of MANY jokes/visuals of this nature. Seriously why is this show SO horny?? IT TAKES PLACE IN HIGH SCHOOL! THEY’RE MINORS!! (Velma specifically, according to the “Velma” Twitter, is canonically 15) If you wanted these types of jokes and imagery so bad the LEAST you can do is put them in college so it’s not so majorly uncomfortable.

The writing was rough, some scenes felt like they were speeding by unnaturally, highly specific references to various media were all over the place and never in a funny way, almost every character is completely unlikable (ESPECIALLY the main Mystery Inc. cast) meaning there’s nobody to root for, and the show is truly just being vulgar for the sake of being vulgar. It’s honestly amazing how unfunny it is at times, it just prioritizes half-baked attempts at basic jokes, profanity, and overused cliches rather than a well put together story with interesting characters. To be a bit brutal, there were truly some moments that this script felt more like a student’s first attempt rather than a greenlit HBO Max series.

The only points I can really give this show is in animation/design, it all moves pretty well (with some occasional choppiness, though that might’ve just been buffering/my connection) and the style is alright for the most part. There definitely are some odd choices in the mix, one of them being the chosen look for Norville (who I WISH I could call Shaggy, but this is more accurate). His look just doesn’t fit the Shaggy vibe enough, I’ve seen so many redesigns that look leagues better. Though I suppose you could argue that since he (and the rest of the gang) is barely written or acted as the original source character correctly, why bother having a design that fits that? 😤

Last point I want to bring up, I’m not at all enticed by the serial killer plot or who killed Brenda. If it wasn’t enough to change how characters act and how vulgar the series is, now we don’t even get monsters to unmask? It is only episode one, and masked monsters were referenced in background details and at least once in the trailer, but the fact that the main plot of Scooby-Doo as a franchise barely exists in the first episode of this series just made the whole thing drag and feel boring to watch. I’m not saying the franchise can’t branch out here and there by doing things other than the classic formula, but also we know this show is built on mystery solving and will include at least one if not several masked monsters, so to not have any in episode one just makes the show as a whole hard to anticipate. Like is it a simple serial killer mystery? Is it normal Scooby-Doo monster hijinks? What am I watching?

Of course these are all just my opinions, if you’re curious you can watch for yourself and maybe you’ll like it more than I did. All I know for myself is that the only reason I’m even considering watching any more is pure morbid curiosity over how much worse it can get, and even then at least in this moment I don’t know if I can get myself to sit through episode two.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Conquered - (5)

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“I am no one’s … lady.”, I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence in his tent. But he only cocked his head to the side and huffed a laugh.

“It’s quite obvious why you are here.”, my tone was accusatory but I wasn’t here to play nice.

“Getting straight to business. I like it.”, he lowered his voice.

“Why don’t you just buy gold from us?”, I was unable to tell of his motive, his intention behind his scheme. If it was mere trade, then it could have been sorted easily. I was only interested in his tarnished reputation and the fear it could inflict upon my enemies.

“Where’s the fun in that?”, he waved his arm about as he sat on his make shift throne. A mechanical sound following him everywhere.

“In return for your security, we can trade resources from my kingdom. That would suffice wouldn’t it? This wedding needn’t take place.”, I wanted to leave, his presence an annoyance, but diplomacy needed a steady hand.

“I am no one’s … watch dog.”, he sighed dramatically but there was a bite to his words.

“Then why are you here?”, I asked impatiently. His head lifted, the hood still covering half his face but I could see the tilt in his mouth, a proud smile. He was assessing me.

“To even out old scores.”, he finally said and it only added to the mystery. Today was the first time I had met him, even so I would not have shared a past with the likes of … him.

“I’m am no one’s .. pawn”, I seethed. If a game was to be played then I was in control. He hummed cooly.

“But that’s all you are. A woman on a throne that was never hers. That the streets are much closer to home than that crown on your head.”, he spat out as if it were a fact. That he too couldn’t stand my presence and for a turn it only angered me further.

He pushed away from his seat, faint light touching his chin. His skin looked tan, his cheekbones taut, his lips plump and dark. But it was the markings that were true to the reports and gossip. His whole body was apparently covered in it.

“How does it feel to have all that potential trapped inside?”, he purred as he circled me, though my stance was confident my thoughts wavered. A fear engulfed me and I gave it away as I swallowed.

His finger traced the edge of my corset, the edge of my waist and my breath hitched in my throat.

“Wound so… tight.”, I felt his breath skim the top of my ears and it felt as though I had lost the authority with which I had arrived first.

I retracted from his touch, it felt foreign and cold. Almost as if he had burned my skin.

“You hide behind your cloak only to aid in propagating a mystery?”, I jut out my chin and now he was the one to swerve towards me

I could see the side of his lips curve.

“No”, he grumbled.

“I am a sight to behold”, he said proudly as he pulled away his hood.

I couldn’t help it, the way I construed my face. The stories were true. The scars were real and the tattoos looked as though by age they had become a part of his skin. He was like a nightmare you tend to remember. His hair fell forward, they were cut to be jagged and choppy, long enough for him to tie it back but instead he preferred the mess.

My initial expression of intimidation vanished, it happened once before, in the woods I went on a hunt, set up to entice the neighboring king to become my ally. But it didn’t go as planned when I got separated from the party for the prey we were hunting, forest deers, somehow disappeared.

I knew these woods well, my mother was a forager and she taught me all the signs to look out for danger. This was one of those instances, the absence of deers meant there was a predator around. It was always rumoured but I believed it to be another story used to scare children into their bed time early.

The fabled Lenars ruled these parts. Although no one had encountered them before, they were told to be creatures of old whose blood contained more magic than mages could obtain. But as I tried to find my way, I lost balance when my horse grew startled and threw me over. It yanked it’s head with it’s ears pinned back when my body took the impact.

The pain shot through me as my vision blurred but when it cleared, I saw the reason why the trees remained silent. I couldn’t breath. It’s eyes were on me. Dark purple. I sat where I fell and felt fear lick my bones because it drew closer.

As big as my horse, stripes on its fur and claws of gold. It’s feet threaded the floor with such lightness I thought it was a figment of my imagination. But it wasn’t, it looked at me with it's feline face as though it could sense my soul but when the initial fear passed, there was this state where my chest grew tight but I couldn’t see anything else. Some part of me could feel the power running through it veins as though we we made of the same substance. I froze sure this would be my end, when in the blink of an eye, it too vanished. I could never really tell if the encounter was real or not.

But he towered over me now, his hazel eyes so light they could be yellow that held the same weight of magic as they bore into mine, trying to read my thoughts or see my soul. Though he looked formidable, I eerily felt calm just like I had been in the woods, with a blind hope that he wouldn’t hurt me.

The tip of his ears had been pierced with sharp pieces of bone as they perked up, his brows furrowed as though he had found something, as did mine. I could sense the power he commanded. As a moment passed, his curious anger turned into a vulnerable pause, that my distain for his appearance had actually in some manner hurt him. He looked away and I did the same as though I was unenthused, turning to leave.

When he caught my arm,

“You are not well suited to handle what is it come”, he looked sincere.

“And I do not like my authority questioned.”, I matched the tone of his voice.

“Heed my instruction.”, his eyes traced the features of my face as though he was trying to find the perfect spot to plunge his dagger.

“Let go of my hand.”, I said as I felt his hold ease. Tugging away my arm, he took a step back when I caught a glimpse of his feet. Metal, like a knight’s boot. I felt uneasy, as though I looked at something I shouldn’t have.

“Either you agree to my terms or you’re free to leave.”, I looked at my hand, rubbing my wrist where he had caught me. But my remark had only angered him.

“I never wish to be in the same land as your knight. So being here isn't as pleasant.”, he spit out and it got a hold of me.

“Why?”, I asked instantly. Obi wan never spoke of him. But to my surprise, he smiled, one of vengeance and spite.

“You might want to ask him about my legs.”, he narrowed his eyes and I felt my pulse quicken. As much as I convinced myself his words held little value, his suggestion stunned me.

“As for helping you,”, he paused, a sudden softness in his voice. “I know the anger you feel.”, he spoke as though he knew of the pains I carried.

I huffed, he was born to an aristocrat and only at the start of this conversation he had made his thoughts clear with regards to my past. He knows nothing of what I truly feel or the pains I carried, neither was I here to have a sentimental chat.

“You can reserve your pity, I need none of it. Call off the engagement, whatever that is to come, -

“I couldn’t care less about the wedding.”, he cut me off.

“I know of his plans.”, his eyes gleamed orange as he watched the fire.

“Why go out of your way to warn me?”, I asked, curiosity had gotten the better of me.

“Do not mistake my cunningness for kindness.”, He said with the ghost of a smile, as though he thought me to be naïve.

“I have a vendetta.”, he faced me and with that I could agree. I had my own against the emperor.

“Then I will convene my council in the morning.”, I said and to my surprise he dipped his head.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”, he smirked and it irked me, how he discredited my standing with his snide remarks. I didn’t aim to feed his attitude with a response, so I left before his eyes could find mine again.

[dollycas]

A Fatal Feast at Bramsford Manor (A Food and Spirits Mystery) by Darci Hannah #Review / #ARCGiveaway @authordarcihannah @KensingtonBooks

NEW TODAY FROM DARCI HANNAH! A Fatal Feast at Bramsford Manor (A Food and Spirits Mystery) Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting - Hampshire, England Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (August 20, 2024) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 320 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496747445 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496747440 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CNYK7DRW While filming at a haunted English manor, chef Bunny MacBride’s big break on her first reality TV show may be cut short by an unscripted murder in Darci Hannah’s new Food & Spirits cozy mystery series . . . It isn’t how chef Bridget “Bunny” MacBride imagined her own cooking show unfolding. But, if preparing historic meals with a modern flair is what it takes to get her cooking on the air, she can deliver, even if her dinner guest is a ghost. That’s the premise of the new reality TV show Food & Spirits, where Chef Bunny teams up with ghost hunter Brett Bloom and psychic medium Giff McGrady to visit haunted locales around the world and tempt lingering spirits back to the table with a beloved meal. For their first episode, the Food & Spirits team sets off to investigate Bramsford Manor, a historic house turned famously haunted hotel, in picturesque Hampshire, England. The sprawling estate is said to be home to the Mistletoe Bride, a young woman who died in the 18th century, the victim of a tragic accident on her Christmas wedding night. Disliking spooks but loving food, Bunny leaves the spectral search to the pros and focuses on the feast, creating a traditional English holiday wedding dinner, complete with a gorgeous prime rib, Yorkshire pudding, and rustic apple tarts. It’s a sumptuous meal she hopes will entice the ghostly Mistletoe Bride to take a seat and join them while the cameras roll. But Bunny’s task is made more difficult when someone steals a boning knife from her custom kit. Alas, when the blade finally turns up again—in the chest of an all-too-human dinner guest—Bunny’s woes only grow as she is named a lead suspect in the case! Now, with a haunted house full of living residents, staff, and crew, Bunny will need the help of Brett, Giff, and her clairvoyant Grandma Mac, to solve this murder before the manor gains another ghost! Dollycas's Thoughts Chef Bridget “Bunny” MacBride has been given a special opportunity for her own cooking show with a new reality TV show Food & Spirits. She will team up with ghost hunter Brett Bloom and psychic medium Giff McGrady and travel around the world to visit haunted places to hunt out any spirits that have failed to cross over and try to lure them to the table for a special meal prepared by Chef Bunny. The first episode of Food & Spirits takes Bunny, Brent, Giff, and the rest of their team to Hampshire, England to investigate a historic house that has been turned into a famous haunted hotel, Bramsford Manor. It is said to be haunted by a young woman who died on her Christmas wedding night in the 18th century. Bunny prepares a traditional English holiday wedding dinner to tempt the Mistletoe Bride to come to the table so Brett and Giff can do their thing but before that can happen, her custom-made boning knife is found in the chest very human dinner guest. She wasn't sure about the whole premise of Food & Spirits but she never imagined she would find herself the top suspect in a murder investigation. Bunny now needs her ghost-hunting friends to help her hunt down the real killer with a big assist from her clairvoyant Grandma Mac. ____ This is the first book in a new series by Darci Hannah (Beacon Bakeshop Mysteries) and she introduces us to some very interesting characters.  Bridget “Bunny” MacBride is a naturally gifted cook who was raised on a family farm in Scotland. She learned from her mother and at the age of ten she knew she wanted to be a chef. Years later a young Bunny MacBride arrived in New York City to hone her culinary skills. This helped her land a job as menu developer and guest chef for a show on the Mealtime Network where she was quite popular. This all leads to her "lucky day" when she was offered the job as host chef on Food & Spirits.  We then enter her life and learn more about Bunny and her family, specifically her Grandma Mac who has a special gift. We also meet her co-hosts Brent Bloom and Giff McGrady and the people at Bramsford Manor. Some of the names may be familiar to Ms. Hannah's fans. I found Bunny very relatable and genuine. Being just the first book in the series I know I will enjoy getting to know her and her supporting cast better as the series continues. Ms. Hannah's writing style makes it so easy to envision each person and scene both in past and present times. This story starts with an old mystery, the Mistletoe Bride, and then includes a new mystery of murder and more. The author twists them together with detail and precision. She also places bits of humor and romantic tension perfectly throughout the story. I found the current mystery to be complex with several suspects. I was kept guessing right up to the reveal. The past mystery was heartbreaking but had a heartwarming end. As I turned the last page of the story and an author's note about the inspiration for this book I was delighted to see "Bunny's Culinary Corner: Recipes & tips to entertain your family & friends. (And ghosts, if that's what you're into.)" There are seven recipes, several I would like to try but I have copied the Rustic Apple Tart with Butterscotch Sauce for my personal chef husband to bake up soon. Hopefully, it won't bring any spirits to the table. :-D A Fatal Feast at Bramsford Manor has set this series off to a fabulous start. The theme for this series is unique. Cozy mysteries are wonderful places for food and ghosts. This book shows how entertaining putting them together can be. I am so excited to see this series continue and what the author has planned for book two. I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Thank you to Kensington Cozies and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About the author Cozy mystery author, Darci Hannah, is a native of the Midwest and currently lives in a small town in Michigan. Darci is a lifelong lover of the Great Lakes, a natural wonder that inspires many of her stories. When Darci isn't baking for family and friends, hiking with her furry pals, Ripley and Finn, or concocting her next cozy mystery, she can be found wandering around picturesque lakeside villages with her hubby, sampling baked goods, and breaking for coffee more often than she should. You can learn more about Darci and her books at www.darcihannah.com Also written by Darci Hannah  This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. I am giving away a Print Advance Review Copy of A Fatal Feast at Bramsford Manor! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. Darci Hannah's Facebook account was recently hacked. Please show her some love by sharing new about this book everywhere you can! If you share the giveaway on Threads, X, or Facebook or anywhere you will receive 10 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End September 3, 2024, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen By Random.org The Winner Will Be Notified By Email and Will Be Posted Here In The Sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” “As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases.”   Read the full article

[unsociableandtaciturnbarbie]

This week, I decided to make my own meme. I used a template of “I bring a sort of X vibe to Y that Z don’t really like”. The original meme actually reads “I bring a sort of 'we should all quit' vibe to the workplace that bosses don't really like”. It’s been around for a while, but gained popularity on TikTok fairly recently where people cover up sections of the sentence and turn it into anything they’d like from fan content to funny stories from their own life. I decided to make this into a little piece of commentary on the experience of a romance reader with Jane Austen because, as someone who is a big romance novel fan, Jane Austen novels often feel like you’re getting so close to exactly what you want, just for the “interesting” part to be skipped over (This is why fanfiction and the Pride and Prejudice 2005 end credit scene are perfect to me, and I will die on that hill). Don’t get me wrong, I still have an appreciation for Austen novels and Pride and Prejudice is up there in my top 3 favorite books, but it’s not because I see them as the romance novels I typically go for. Honestly, I can’t call Jane Austen novels romances. You certainly get bits and pieces of it, but they aren’t fully about romance.

What was really fun about this template to me though was how putting Jane Austen in to fill the last blank makes it sound as if Jane Austen herself is purposefully removing the romance from the books and toying with the romance readers. I think I can agree with that on some level. We’ve talked before about how there’s an idea that Jane Austen is purposely depriving her readers of the romance aspects they are looking for. To me, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s more of a situation where romance is just not that important to Austen. I think she knows that she’s excluding something, it’s on purpose, but I don’t know if it’s with malicious intent so much as with a lack of interest in it. I wasn’t really sure how to feel on this point though until in Secrets in the Snow, where we get a bit of a look into Jane Austen’s life. It’s a YA novel and a murder mystery so things are probably dramatized, but as far as I understood from class today it seems to be overall a pretty accurate depiction of her circumstances. Assuming the book is an accurate representation of her life, I can understand why romance may not have been all that important to her. She seems to have been living comfortably (at least not poorly enough to be desperate to marry) and mostly free to write as she pleased, which seemed to be her real goal in life. She didn’t want any of the things like money or companionship which might entice other ladies of the time to marry, and it’s entirely possible she didn’t ever really fall in love (the whole Tom Lefroy thing would be amusing for me, but seems not super realistic). Because of this, I do think that Austen is purposefully excluding romance, but it’s not meant to be a vicious dig at romance readers; if it’s anything it may be a situation where she sees it as being below her. However, the structure of this meme does function in a way where if people see Austen as a more vicious/cruel being they can definitely get that from this meme too which I liked when making it.

[almsautumn2023alex]

Enticing Sherlock Holmes board game with friends 06/11/2023

On last weeks Saturday me and a couple of my friends met up to spend some time together and play games. Recently I got my hands on a very interesting Sherlock Holmes detective game, and since the game is completely in English I suggested to my friends that we play this game and practise our English:) This was such a marvelous idea because we had SO MUCH FUN! 

Firstly I want to give a little backstory about this game so that it is easier to understand what Im talking about. As I’ve mentioned earlier this is a detective board game, in this game we (players) with the help of Sherlock Holnes uncover mysteries and brutal murders. This game follows a storyline that through reading we uncover the truth. We also have to heavily rely on our own deduction skills. We have to make our own guesses and they in turn influence what part of the script we have to read. This is so exciting in my opinion, since we really have to think and anticipate our next steps. I especially loved this game because I’m a MASSIVE Sherlock Holmes fan. I have watched probably the majority of film and tv series adaptations there is and read a handful of the books. 

In terms of our play time, we had a lot of fun speaking the whole time English. And it was actually a lot more easier to coordinate the game that way, rather than speaking in Finnish and translating the text. I must mention that the setting of the game was 1888, this meant that sometimes the language was old fashioned and complicated to understand. This wasn’t a problem though at all, because if there was something we didn’t understand we just translated it and took our time with comprehending. In terms of language learning I think this was for me more of a interactive way utilise my knowledge. This was definitely more of a fun activity so I didn’t focus how correct my pronunciation was or any other technical details, I tried to approach this as if I am a native speaker and just let things go with the flow. All in all this little activity was tremendous fun and I’m a little sad that i didn’t think of this sooner, because now I WILL be doing this again:) 

Alms hours 4h play time + 1 h blog