#the woman said no absolutely not and dismissed my manager in such a rude way

[knoxious-and-devoted]

to all the women who came into my work today and we're rude specifically to my manager, who is one of the loveliest people, THIS IS WHY SHE SNAPPED AT YOU YOU SNAPPED AT HER FIRST. have the day you deserve, fuckwits

it is genuinely bewildering to me that adult human beings do not know this but if you are mean to people they will not like you. like tbh they are probably also not going to like you if you are mean to other people but they are definitely not going to like you if you are mean to them. it doesn’t matter if you are funny or if you can use r/aita rules to prove that you are in the right. people simply so not enjoy being treated like shit.

[saintlike78]

Little one [L.M.]

A/N: This is an au where both Voldy (mr. no-nose) and Narcissa don’t exist. Lucius is just mean, but not evil, yk

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x fem! reader

Words: 3.4k

Summary: You start your internship at the ministry, working for the infamous Lucius Malfoy. You’re scared after only having heard horrible things about the man, but will your opinion change. (Take a lucky guess)

Warnings: NSFW! 16+, vaginal sex, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, mention of cum, soft dom! Lucius, slight implication of older man/younger woman, slight sir kink, intern reader. As always lmk if I missed anything.

Fixing and smoothing out your skirt, you took one last look in the mirror before releasing a long nervous sigh and headed out the door. Your internship at the ministry was starting today and you could feel the bubbles of anxiety in your stomach churning, your hands slightly clammy at the thought of who you were interning with - none other than the infamous Lucius Malfoy.

You had almost cried when you received the owl carrying the letter to inform you who you’d be interning with, having only heard horrible things about the man.

You’d heard that he was rude, mean, and had absolutely no patience, especially not with interns such as yourself, his last three interns having quit within the first week of working for him.

——

Your body was trembling slightly, your heart beating out of your chest as you stepped off the elevator and into the long hallway.

The doors were tall and dark, emphasizing that behind them sat important wizards, more important than you would ever be.

You walked past three doors before you were met with one with bold gold lettering spelling out ‘Lucius Malfoy’.

You took a deep breath, lifting your hand slowly before knocking on the door loud enough for it to be heard on the other side.

“Enter,” a dark voice announced from the opposite side of the door.

You took another breath before opening the large door with shaky hands; you almost toppled over from the weight of the door, but you managed to enter the office without embarrassing yourself.

The office was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined, the interior decorated with a black, green, and silver color scheme - the owner had obviously been a Slytherin during their time at Hogwarts.

Your eyes looked all around the room taking in all of the expensive detail such as a black marble fireplace and a reading area the size of a small library, lastly, your attention fell on the grand black wooden desk placed in front of the large window. Your breath hitched when your eyes finally landed on the man seated behind the desk; his long blond hair falling to rest upon his black coat, his figure proud and tall even in his seated form. His icy eyes burned into you, looking you over and raising an eyebrow.

“Are you done looking around, girl?” his unimpressed tone pulled you out of your trance, your heart pounding once more.

“Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” you apologized, your fingers fiddling behind your back to keep away the anxiety.

“Hmm, and who might you be?” Even though he was the one asking the question, his slow bored tone made him seem less interested than if he’d kept quiet.

“My name is y/n… I’m an intern… I’m supposed to be taught by you, I got an owl explaining everything… maybe there’s been a mis-“ your rambling was cut off by a raise of Lucius’ hand, your mouth instantly clamping shut.

“I am well aware of the… internship program,” he said with disgust, “well get over here and make yourself useful.”

With a few quick steps, you were standing in front of his desk, looking at him and waiting for instructions.

“What you would you have me do, sir?”

He pointed at the chair beside you, then at a stack of paper on your side of the desk, “I’ll only be explaining how to do this once… I will not be disturbed when I am working, you will keep your mouth shut and do your work, and then maybe you’ll be able to get through the month.”

You nodded quickly and listened to him explain how to do your work; he explained slow and simple as if you were a child, his voice still unimpressed.

“Now, get on with it,” he dismissed you, your head quickly dipping to focus on the paperwork in front of you as he went back to his own work, silence soon filling the large office.

——

You were afraid to make even the tiniest of sounds, but you found that the silence was a comfortable one - Lucius wasn’t as scary in silence.

The silence was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, your head shooting up to look at the door, but Lucius’ focus was still on his work.

“What?” he grumbled, loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

The door opened slowly, a young nervous-looking man, holding a cup, entered the office.

“Mr. Malfoy, s-sir, I’ve got your c-coffee,” he stuttered, his hands trembling as he reached the desk, giving you a glance and a sympathetic smile, before placing down the coffee.

Lucius didn’t say a word, only stopping his writing to grab the cup and bringing it to his lips as he took a small sip. You found yourself oddly mesmerized as you looked at him; you couldn’t deny that he was awfully attractive, but you quickly shook your head burying that thought deep down.

His naturally displeased face turned into one of disgust, his lips turned down in a scowl.

“Are you that incompetent that you cannot remember a simple order? Once again it is wrong,” his tone was laced with distaste, his right hand grabbing his cane before loudly banging it against the floor causing both you and the young assistant to jump.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t bother coming into work tomorrow or ever again,” he said calmly, but still with his naturally disgusted tone.

With another bang to the floor, he raised his voice, almost to a yell, “now… get out!”

The young man bowed, almost comically, before practically running out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

Lucius let out a displeased ‘humph’ before letting his focus go back to the work in front of him, his finger tapping gently on the wooden desk.

Your eyes were still trained on his face, not sure what to think, but knowing to not cross him.

“I’d advise you to get back to work and quit your staring, girl… unless you want to also not come back tomorrow,” Lucius said without even looking up at you.

You were slightly embarrassed to have been caught staring, but quickly went back to your work as to not agitate him further, mumbling an almost silent, “I’m sorry, sir.”

As your focus went back to your work, you missed the small smirk that played at Lucius’ lips.

——

A week had passed and already you felt much more comfortable in the presence of the tall intimidating man, the silence that filled the office every day comforting to you as you did your work.

Throughout the week you had dared to ask him for help a couple of times; the first time he had helped you with a displeased frown, but each time he helped he seemed less hostile and more willing. One of the times there had been a problem you were too inexperienced to fix by yourself and Lucius had made you move your chair to the opposite side of his desk to sit beside him, to look over you and help. You were surprised that when you went to move your chair back he stopped you with a raised hand, “you might need more help with this problem and I do not want to listen to the scraping of the chair again.”

You were even more surprised when you had moved the chair back, only to find it beside his chair the next morning, a small space cleared out for you on his desk, giving you enough room to work beside him.

——

More days passed and you found yourself in quiet conversation with the man, small fleeting smiles shared, much to your surprise and pleasure.

He was much more pleasant the more you conversed, the more time you spent with him in that office.

One day, you left the office with him to deliver some of your paperwork and grab some more for you, you having worked faster than anticipated and finished the prescribed paperwork before your deadline.

Stepping off of the full elevator you had to maneuver yourself between numerous amount of people, the ministry bustling with hard-working wizards.

Lucius had placed a large hand, the one not holding his cane, on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. You looked up at him in surprise, but his gaze was set forward, his icy composure never leaving him outside of the office, yet you felt the warmth from his hand and warmth on your cheeks from the blush.

You made your way through the ministry, successfully dropping off and gathering new paperwork.

On your way back to the office you ran into a pair of Lucius’ more respectable colleagues - respectable in the sense that it was the colleagues he respected enough to converse with.

You stood silently beside Lucius as he spoke with the two men about Merlin knows what, that was until one of the men acknowledged you.

“So is this a new one?”

Your head snapped up, confusion written on your face, having no idea what he meant. Lucius placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a subtle squeeze only noticeable to you.

“Yes, but this one has at least lasted longer than a week,- not as incompetent as the last ones,” he grumbled and you understood that they were talking about the previous interns, feeling a little dumb for the quick feeling of jealousy that had passed through you.

You nodded slowly and smiled at the men before yourself and Lucius trudged the rest of the way back to his office.

You entered the office with Lucius close behind you, closing the door softly.

You made your way over to his desk to set down the paper, placing them gently down with your back to Lucius, not hearing as his steps came closer to you.

“What was that back there?” Lucius questioned, his tone as gentle as it could be.

You were about to answer, but your breath caught in your throat when you turned around and you were staring directly into the chest of Lucius Malfoy, your neck craning to look at his face.

“I-I… what do you mean?” You stuttered, trying to compose yourself and not focus on the closeness of his being.

“Don’t play dumb now, little one,” he smirked, “I know jealousy when I see it.”

He pressed you against his desk, cupping your cheek with one hand before leaning down to be level with your face.

“Why were you jealous, my girl?” he whispered, the smirk still evident on his much too smug face.

You shivered at the nickname, “I-I wasn’t,” your face was red, your voice was low almost a whisper.

“Hmm, don’t lie to me,” Lucius spoke, his tone reminding you of his superiority as he rested his cane against the desk and used his now free hand to squeeze your hip.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you broke your eye contact, feeling slightly embarrassed, cheeks burning under his intense gaze.

“Look at me, little one, no need to feel embarrassed,” he stroked your cheek softly.

You hesitated a moment before meeting his gaze once more, his eyes soft as he looked down upon you.

You swallowed down your nerves, your mind not fully being able to comprehend that this was happening, but you tried to ground yourself slightly by reaching your hands up to rest upon his shoulders.

“Lucius, please,” you whimpered, earning yourself another smug smirk from the man in front of you, but your whine was the only confirmation he needed before he leaned down to connect your lips.

The kiss was anything but slow, your mouths working hungrily against one another as your bodies melded together. Your arms were holding him close around his neck, your hands grabbing onto the black fabric of his jacket. His hands were placed firmly on your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh; he used the grip on you to lift you onto the desk, your legs instantly spreading for him to get in between.

Your whine broke the kiss, your hips bucking involuntarily into his for friction. He chuckled, both of you breathless, his grip on your hip tightening to keep you in place.

“So desperate, little one,” he taunted, lightly grinding his hips into yours, a gasping moan ripped from your throat.

He picked at the hem of your skirt, “you’ve been driving me mad with all these small skirts of yours,” he said as he slowly started hiking your skirt up enough for your soaked panties to be visible for him.

“Is this okay,” he asked, pecking your lips a couple of times, waiting for your consent to continue with what he had planned.

“Yes, more than okay, Lucius,” you nodded quickly, leaning in to reconnect your lips in another heated kiss.

Your hands ran through his hair, feeling the silky blond strands between your fingers as he snuck his tongue into your mouth to work against yours.

Lucius broke the kiss, too soon in your opinion, which you made clear with a whine.

“Patience, my sweet girl,” he said with a grin; you tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear as you stared into his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

Slowly he got down on his knees before you, hiking your skirt up with a lift of your hips, your heart was beating fast with anticipation.

He placed a thumb right on the center of your panties before releasing a pleased hum, “look at that, all wet for me.”

You let out a small whimper, “Lucius, please.”

“What do you want? Use your words, little one,” he smirked.

Your cheeks burned, “please, want you to… taste me.”

His smile was wide as he dragged your panties down your legs, “good girl, such good manners,” he praised.

Lucius wasted no time, leaning in to place a kiss on your aching clit, pulling the nub between his teeth gently sucking before using his tongue to put pressure on it.

Your breath caught in your throat at the actions and multiple moans could be heard throughout the large office, your hands gripping his hair while also keeping him in place. His arms reached under your thighs, holding you to his face, his hands squeezing at the smooth flesh.

“Oh, my gods, Lucius,” you moaned, head tipping back as his tongue went in circles around your clit occasionally stopping to put pressure on it or to softly kiss the nub.

Shutters ran up your spine as you grew closer to the familiar feeling of an orgasm, your eyes fluttering slightly at the effort of keeping them open. Your right hand had moved from his hair to grab onto the top of his hand on your thigh; his hand loosened its grip on you, letting you place your hand under his, holding onto it for comfort.

“Lucius, I’m gonna cum,” you announced through moans, but it only made Lucius pull away from your drenched, pulsing cunt, prompting a disapproving whine to leave your mouth.

“Remember to use your manners, little one, that’s not how we ask for the things we want,” he scolded lightly, leaning into kitten lick at your clit to keep you right on edge.

“I’m sorry… please, may I cum, sir?”

Lucius smirked and hummed in content, “go ahead love,” he gave his approval before he dove back in, suckling at your clit till you were shaking in pleasure.

The pressure snapped, a loud moan torn from your throat as you came all over Lucius’ tongue, which he used to lick up everything you produced for him. Your hand gripped his tighter as he worked you through your orgasm, your vision blurred and your cunt pulsing around the air.

He gave one last kiss to your clit, making you jolt before he unhooked his arms from under your thighs and stood up to tower over you once more. He used his thumb to wipe away the wetness on his chin before guiding it to your mouth prompting it to open for him, suckling your release off his finger.

“Are you ready to take my cock in that sweet little cunt of yours, my sweet?” he asked to which you nodded furiously, with his thumb still in your mouth.

“Ah ah, words, darling,” he said with a stern look, “tell me what you want.”

He removed his thumb from your mouth to let you answer him, “fuck me, please.”

He chuckled at your bluntness but chose to let it slide as he reached down to free his painfully hard cock from his trousers.

With it freed, he lifted you with his hands hooked under your arms; you immediately wrapped your legs around his hips and clung to him as he moved you over to a wall of the office. He placed you against it, wrapping an arm behind your back holding you to him, his other hand placed behind your head.

He maneuvered your body down, his cock sliding into you with ease, both of you releasing simultaneous breaths of satisfaction.

He waited a moment for you to permit him to move, but your impatient nature shone through when you started moving your hips, trying to bounce the best you could in the position you were in. Lucius chuckled but understood and started moving, bucking into you, taking over for you.

You moaned, the overstimulation running through you at every thrust of his hips to yours. The feeling of his cock sliding into you slowly to savor the moment, his arm keeping you close to him and his hand holding onto the back of your head to keep you from banging against the wall, it was all heaven.

“You’re taking me so well, little one,” Lucius grunted, his thrusts picking up speed, to bring you both closer to your release.

Your fingers gripped onto his jacket tightly as your whimpers and moans picked up the frequency, “L-Lucius.”

You fell forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you felt yourself grow closer after each thrust of his hips, his hand followed your head, holding onto you tightly.

The tip of his cock deliciously prodded at your g-spot, his pubic bone dragging over your clit creating mind-numbing friction and you clenched around him.

He understood and picked up his speed, leading you right to the edge.

“Lucius, please may I cum?” You pleaded between moans, wishing desperately to be tipped over the edge he had left you on.

“Go on, cum for me, my sweet girl.”

With his permission you were over the edge in seconds, your body shaking and twitching in his strong grasp; your cunt pulsed around him as he thrust you through your release, but the sounds of your moans and the feeling of your warm walls milking him prompted his release.

He gave a couple of hard thrusts before he stilled and released a long deep moan, filling you with his warm seed. You moaned at the feeling, unburying your head to be face to face with him once more, leaning in to connect your lips in a slow kiss as he worked you both through your orgasms.

After he was done filling you up, he walked you over to the desk again, pulling out and setting you down slowly on shaky legs, yet he kept his arms around you to make sure you didn’t collapse. He grabbed the cane resting against the desk to collect his wand and clean you and himself up before he tucked himself away and bent down to grab your panties that were thrown on the floor.

He helped you put them on, tapping each of your feet to get them through and up your legs; Lucius kissed your thigh before rising to his full height again to smile softly at you.

“I still have work to do,” he stated, but he regret his tone after seeing your face drop ever so slightly in your bleary headspace.

“Oh, of course… do you want me to leave?” you avoided his eyes as you asked the question, afraid that he would say yes.

Lucius let out a light chuckle and shook his head, “of course not, you’ll stay here, darling girl.”

He hooked his hands under your arms once more, lifting you up, making you wrap your limbs around him once again. He walked around the desk towards his chair, sitting down on it with you, he turned you sideways on his lap so you could watch him work if you wanted to, but also giving you the freedom to just rest on him.

You watched his face, memorizing his features, thinking back to how nervous he made you, how scary he seems to everyone else and how lucky you were to have been granted access to a whole other side of him, only for you.

Tags: @teenwolfbitches28, @emma67, @sprucewoodlover, @i-love-scott-mccall, @pottahishotasf, @mjoubertt-1, @methblinds, @maraudersbijj, @samaraaaaa,

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Heeey! Can I request for the Father of Mine universe? Something along the lines of hickeys, maybe smeared lipstick all over their faces at an event, family dinner or something like that?

“Just skip it and stay here with me,” Jason offered as he leaned against the bathroom frame, shirtless and with his arms crossed.

He had been watching Y/N get ready for at least 15 minutes.

She was currently putting on blood red lipstick that went perfectly with her black winged eyeliner.

Jason wasn’t a big lipstick guy – mostly because it prevented him from kissing his girlfriend the way he wanted to. But he couldn’t deny that it looked incredibly sexy.

“I can’t. I promised Bruce,” Y/N explained as she looked at him through the mirror.

“There will always be other charity events,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

But he’d had enough of keeping his distance and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He started peppering kisses on her shoulders since her dress was leaving the skin completely exposed and he just couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” she began, “you could always come with me.”

Jason stopped his kissing.

“Guess that’s a no?” Y/N sighed with a shy grin.

But she didn’t really care.

Y/N understood that Jason hated these events. To be honest, she might hate them just as much. But Bruce kept asking her and she tried to go when she could. Sometimes she needed breaks and her father understood that.

Jason ignored her question and his hands started roaming heatedly across her body.

“Don’t even think about it,” Y/N warned, immediately pushing him away.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jason laughed innocently.

“Not yet,” she spun around and pointed at him. “But you were going to!”

“And is that so bad?” He asked with a crooked smirk.

“It is when I’m running late. And the reason I’m late is because you couldn’t keep your hands off of me an hour ago.”

Jason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t exactly hear any complaints…”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from laughing and shook her head.

No, there had definitely been absolutely no complaints from her.

“I won’t be there long,” Y/N promised.

Then she brushed past him and walked into the giant walk-in closet.

Barely even glancing at all the shoes, she grabbed a pair that matched her dress.

“Can we order pizza or something when I get back? I’ll be starving.” Y/N asked mindlessly as she slipped the shoes on, using the wall to balance herself.

Jason didn’t even realize he was staring.

But how could he not?

The dress was simple. Just a little black dress. It was a charity event after all. But it fit Y/N like a glove, hugging her in all the right places.

Her heels were at least 4 inches, putting her eye level with Jason – if not a tiny bit taller. She would be above the majority of men at the event, except for probably a small handful.

“What?” Y/N asked self consciously. “Too tall?”

“No such fucking thing,” Jason quickly answered.

Y/N usually wasn’t self conscious about her height. She kind of had to get over that back in high school when she was taller than most of the boys in her grade.

But that didn’t mean she completely stopped having slip-ups. Slip-ups that involved questioning her heels or outfit.

Thankfully, Jason was quick to remedy such situations.

“You just look so beautiful,” Jason added as he stepped forward and grabbed her hips possessively.

Y/N kissed him. “Thank you.”

But she opened her mouth to give another warning.

“You’re gonna be late,” Jason spoke for her. “I know. I know.”

Y/N tried not to laugh at her boyfriends desperation as she grabbed her clutch.

“Remember: pizza!” Y/N called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

————

Bruce and Damian were waiting for Y/N at the venue.

Dick and Tim skipped, going to these things less and less as they became fully grown men with lives of their own.

“Thank you for coming,” Bruce greeted as he kissed her on the cheek.

Y/N was about to turn her attention to Damian and give him a hug.

“What the hell is on your neck!?” The boy cried out before she could.

She blinked in surprise, completely unaware of what her half brother was talking about. Self-consciously, her hand went to the sides of her neck, not sure what she should be hiding.

“Can Todd not keep his hands to himself for 30 seconds?” Damian growled.

That’s when it clicked.

Y/N had a hickey on her neck.

“Damian, lower your voice,” Bruce warned his son.

Meanwhile, Y/N started feeling hot from embarrassment.

“Father, make him stop,” Damian whined.

To her surprise, Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Damian, Y/N is a grown woman in a relationship. She can do as she pleases.”

It was the right answer, but Y/N was still sweating from the embarrassment.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she quickly mumbled, before disappearing to the nearest bathroom.

But Y/N swore she heard Bruce continuing to scold Damian for his rudeness and for embarrassing her.

When she reached the bathroom, she lifted her head to see that she very much did have a hickey on her neck. It was perfectly hidden in the shadow of her jaw, which was why she hadn’t noticed it while getting ready. If she had, she would’ve put 5 layers of makeup on it to make sure her family didn��t notice.

Thankfully, she brought some cover up with her and quickly started going to work.

After 10 minutes, it was invisible and Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

She pulled out her cellphone, glaring at it as if were her boyfriend.

“You better start behaving. Damian and Bruce just found a hickey on my neck. I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Y/N texted to Jason.

“Who cares?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he’d answer with that.

“Call me old fashioned, but I’d prefer not remind my father and younger brother that I do in fact have a sex life.”

“A healthy, satisfied, and passionate sex life *,” Jason corrected.

Before she could respond, he texted again with, “Did you cover it up?”

“Obviously.”

“What a shame. Maybe it would’ve kept the spoiled rich boys away from you.”

“You’re on thin ice, Jason Todd.”

“Ooo. I love it when you use the full name. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

Y/N sighed and tossed her phone back into her clutch.

She’d given up on making Jason feel any bit of sympathy. That man would never feel guilty about showing the world how obsessed he was with her.

—————

Jason was reading on the couch when Y/N returned home.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted before returning to reading his book.

“Ugh. I drank too much champagne. I have the worst headache.”

“I’ll order some pizza,” Jason offered and pulled out his phone.

Y/N sighed in relief when she took off her heels and then she collapsed on the couch, laying her head on Jason’s lap as he placed their order.

Without thinking, his free hand when to her head and started massaging it, hoping it would help with her migraine.

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed. “That feels better.”

“Order has been placed,” he confirmed.

“Thank you.”

“Arrives in 30 minutes.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing exactly where he was going with it.

“What could we possibly do with 30 minutes?” Jason teased as he inched closer to her face.

She opened her eyes and giggled up at him.

“Ya know, I heard that sex helps cure migraines…”

“Does not!” Y/N yelled out.

Before she could argue with him further, his lips shut her up real quick.

For as large as Jason was, he managed to maneuver his body very gracefully, until he was hovering above Y/N while she lay comfortably on the couch.

“You look beautiful with lipstick,” Jason said it as if it was law. “But I like it even more when I ruin it,” he added with an almost evil smirk.

It was hard for Y/N to have a clever quip when he said things like that to her.

“How about I mark you up even more?” He threatened.

“Jason…” she warned.

But they both knew Y/N was pretending to be annoyed by it – or against it. When in reality, she kind of loved how obsessed Jason was with the idea.

Just when Jason hiked Y/N's dress up and was tracing her legs, someone cleared their throat.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut in frustration and actually growled. Then he quickly lowered Y/N’s dress and tried to make her modest again.

Y/N covered her face and groaned. “Please, please, please tell me Bruce is not standing at the window right now.”

Jason smirked. “And Damian.”

Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her and sat up to face them.

There stood Batman and Robin.

Tonight was just not her night.

“You have lipstick smeared all over you,” Damian pointed out to Jason smugly.

“I’d say one day you’d see the appeal, but I’m struggling to imagine anyone ever having that kind of interest in you,” Jason shot back.

“Jason!” Y/N scolded in a yell.

Then she quickly turned to Damian with a sympathetic look, “Dami, he didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason corrected. “What do you guys want?”

“Red Robin is missing,” Bruce stated darkly.

“So…go find him,” Jason replied.

“We need your help,” Bruce clarified.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. But we’re setting some fucking ground rules from now on. I’m sick of you guys invading our personal space. We have a door for a reason. Use it.”

Bruce just nodded.

Then he looked down at Damian and with a glare, got him to nod, too.

“I gotta change,” Jason told them, annoyance clear in his voice.

Y/N followed him into their bedroom, to give them a moment of privacy.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” Y/N sighed as she sat on the edge of their bed.

“They spent all night with you and now they have the balls to interrupt?” Jason shot back. “And I want my damn pizza.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I promise I’ll save you some.”

Jason was in his full gear now, Red Hood helmet tucked under his arm.

He took in a deep breath, tension easing off of him as he saw how cute she was looking up from the bed at him. Her lipstick was half off her lips, but she still looked beautiful.

“Promise you’ll be careful,” her tone was nothing but serious.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jason dismissed as he leaned down at kissed her.

"And be nice to Damian."

"Never."

Jason went back to the living room where Bruce and Damian waited.

“You might want to rub some of that off,” Bruce mumbled as he turned and jumped on the window.

Jason glared at Batman’s back as he reluctantly rubbed Y/N’s lipstick off his mouth with his gloved hand.

Then he looked at Damian. “Say another word about it and I'll skin you alive.”

Damian gave him a dirty look, “I’m not scared of you.”

–––––––––

Let me know if you liked it!!!

[subbykboys]

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot. 

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house). 

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious. 

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature, 

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away. 

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette. 

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.” 

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly. 

He only rolled his eyes. 

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch. 

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—” 

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark. 

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment. 

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face. 

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt. 

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today. 

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.” 

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it. 

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate. 

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you. 

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?” 

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight. 

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable. 

Oh, he’s cute. 

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.” 

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth. 

Really cute. 

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.” 

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.” 

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room. 

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!” 

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face 

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.” 

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair. 

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind. 

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra. 

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that. 

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that. 

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not. 

“Ah— Mark?” 

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?” 

“Where’s the bathroom?” 

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.” 

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.” 

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived. 

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room. 

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door. 

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door. 

Then he froze. 

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened. 

But it didn’t. 

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on. 

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your 

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial. 

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction. 

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to  turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t. 

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting. 

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!” 

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him. 

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato. 

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you. 

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating. 

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids. 

He was doomed. 

And he still needed to pee. 

Damnit. 

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans. 

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place. 

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?” 

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.” 

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone. 

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away. 

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one. 

“Taeyong.” 

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes. 

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard. 

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue. 

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare. 

“Perfect. Then we can share.” 

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath. 

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. 

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived. 

“Movie?” Haechan suggested. 

You perked. “I know a good one.” 

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.” 

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.” 

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction. 

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!” 

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch. 

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness. 

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen. 

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat. 

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” 

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now. 

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised. 

Now, was not one of those times. 

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position. 

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers. 

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face. 

Fuck, he’s too adorable. 

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon. 

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable. 

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee. 

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers. 

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson. 

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax. 

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves. 

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv. 

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more. 

“Is this alright?” 

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out. 

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled. 

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious. 

“I– I don’t— I’m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him. 

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t. 

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering. 

But even if it was— 

It felt too damn good. 

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out. 

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands. 

But shit was it tempting. 

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him. 

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight… 

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap. 

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain. 

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—” 

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire. 

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered. 

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention. 

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway. 

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you. 

Really looking at you. 

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins. 

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face. 

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.” 

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head. 

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied. 

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.” 

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.” 

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?” 

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him. 

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip. 

God he’s adorable. 

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely. 

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?” 

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened. 

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent… 

“Have you ever been touched before?” 

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs. 

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen. 

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh? 

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.” 

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist. 

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.” 

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod. 

“Good boy.” 

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...” 

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable. 

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm. 

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on. 

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn. 

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples. 

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.” 

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you. 

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?” 

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside. 

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds. 

But you weren’t finished yet. 

Not by a long shot. 

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips. 

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were. 

“O– oh—” 

“Is this alright?” 

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…” 

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…” 

“Just?” 

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health… 

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.” 

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch. 

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust. 

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him. 

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally. 

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?” 

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall. 

“Wanna feel it again?” 

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.” 

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that. 

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible… 

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet. 

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out. 

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat. 

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be. 

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body. 

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight. 

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright. 

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder. 

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued. 

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased. 

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?” 

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.” 

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.” 

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles… 

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room. 

“Uh… foods here.” 

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans. 

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck. 

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners? 

[cyberphuck]

Concert update before I pass out (might do a longer breakdown later but at this time I don't really see the point): We missed Babymetal because we couldn't see the stage-- I left to get merch before they'd finished because I was getting angrier with every song that I didn't get to watch them perform. By the time Dethklok came on we'd managed to organize and arrange ourselves ('ourselves' being me, Seb in his chair, another wheelchair user that had also moved to where we were due to not being able to see from his seat, and his two friends) so that we could see the stage and enjoy the show. After the show let out I went to find someone in charge to talk about how much this experience sucked-- from having to park in gravel that we could barely get the wheelchair across, to being stopped by stairs that led into the venue, to the complete lack of signage directing us to the accessible ramps, to the lawnchair "seats" that were smaller, lower, and way less comfortable than the abled seating, to the fact that we could not see the stage during the performance from those seats, to the rude and dismissive staff that I spoke to before the show about these issues, to the fact that I found out you had to pay extra for accessible parking-- and made both my issues and demands clear: 1. We had paid the same amount of money for the experience as abled people, yet did not receive the same experience,

2. I did extensive research before purchasing the tickets and nowhere on the venue's website were the lawnchair seats or gravel parking lot or lack of non-stairs access to the place mentioned (which staff confirmed),

3. I wanted a partial refund so that the amount we paid for our tickets matched the experience we received,

4. I wanted a written statement on official venue letterhead detailing my complaint and the action taken regarding that complaint, whatever they ended up deciding to do.

The venue's responses were: 1. Oops our bad 2. Yeah that sucks, our bad again,

3. No,

4. also no. Like, these people refused, point blank, to give me any sort of documentation that 1. I had asked for a solution or 2. that they had or had not given one. They said they'd make a note of it in their records so they could discuss it with higher ups. I asked for a copy of the notes. They said no to that too (like they were extra angry that I asked for the notes, which I'm baffled by). I told them: I recognize that you might not be able to issue even a partial refund of my tickets-- I'll probably have to go to Ticketmaster, whatever. I am asking for a piece of paper as proof that you knew I complained. That's all. No, absolutely not. Also, the highest guy in charge that I was able to talk to told me that my complaints were "heresay." I reminded him I had photos, and then I asked him who, if anyone, at the venue would be taking responsibility for the issues that I was concerned about. The slightly lower higher-up woman said "my staff." The guy glared at her and said "responsibility? we're not responsible." When he told me to call on Monday and see if I could get in touch with someone who cared, I asked what number I should call and whom I should ask to speak to. He abruptly backpedaled and said that I should actually call Ticketmaster. About the venue's lack of accessibility.

Eventually, we were literally the only one's left at the entire venue, and I personally was keeping a bunch of very tired event staff from going home, so I got them to load Seb and his chair (and me) into a golf cart and take us back across the gravel to our car. I have the venue name, obviously, and the first names of the three people that I spoke to (plus the last name of the higher up guy and the last initial of the rude guy). So:

Michigan Lottery Ampitheare at Freedom Hill (in Sterling Heights, Michigan). Phone number (313) 471-7000. I was at the Babyklok concert on 9/17. I am going to do something about this, but if you know somebody with a bigger voice, please let them know. I am so. Fucking. Tired.

The concert is super great here is our view of the stage from the wheelchair accessible seats

[the-iceni-bitch]

Search No More

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Words: Guessing cuz I’m on mobile again, 1.5k?

Summary: Andy has a new job and needs you to save him from forced camaraderie.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex), alcohol consumption by adults of appropriate age, Neal Logiudice (cuz fuck this guy), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Another one from the WIP folder that is specifically for @imanuglywombat’s “Is that even a sex position?” challenge, week three. I figured a nice soft position would be perfect for our favorite floofy lawyer boi. Please check out the other great fics this challenge has given us and enjoy!

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!

It had been a slow night at the bar, so your staff practically insisted on sending you home early, Jesse shoving out the door as you protested feebly.

“Take a night off, boss.” He grumbled amicably as he ushered you towards your car, handing you your coat and bag as a light snow started to fall. “Maybe go snuggle with that boyfriend of yours that’s always hanging around. Where is he tonight anyway?”

“There was a new faculty mixer.” You said with an eye roll. “You’re sure you’ll be fine, Jess?”

“We’re always fine.” He said dismissively with a wave of his hand as you climbed into your vehicle.

You texted Andy as you started your car to see where he was and he practically begged you to come meet him at the party, whining about how sinfully boring law professors were. You got the address from him and headed out, arriving in the posh Newton neighborhood in a little under 30 minutes.

There were a few partygoers hanging around outside, and you cursed to yourself when you saw them wearing cocktail attire. Leave it to Andy to forget to mention a dress code. Thank god your dry cleaning was in the back.

You tried to find something relatively conservative and settled on a simple satin sheath that was probably a little shorter than was appropriate but it’s not like you had a lot of options. You started to awkwardly disrobe in your front seat, shimmying out of your jeans and pulling your sweater over your head. A surprising knock on the window made you yelp while you were bent over the console with the back of your dress unzipped to grab your emergency heels.

“Ma’am, we’ve gotten some reports of an extremely attractive woman getting naked in a 2003 Acura, any chance that’s you.” A gravelly voice said behind a blinding flashlight.

You growled and opened your driver’s side door into Andy, almost making him drop his phone in the street. He let out a chuckle at your scowl as you stepped out of the car and straightened up, starting to pull the zipper of your dress up your back.

“I would’ve changed at the bar if you let me know this was a cocktail party asshole.” You snarled at him, turning to let him help you draw the zipper up the last few inches.

“Or, you would’ve gone back to your apartment to try to find something else to wear, and I would’ve been stuck listening to professor McDrones-A-lot talk about torts for god knows how long.”

“Aww, are your new coworkers boring, babe?” You teased him as he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you inside.

“God, they’re so fucking boring.” He murmured into your hair before turning to introduce you to some ancient man with elbow patches. “Professor Donaldson, this is Y/N.” He said, throwing you a wink. “She was just telling me how interested she is in tort reform.”

“Splendid! Are you a lawyer my dear?”

You shook your head and did your best to listen politely as you glared at Andy over the old man’s shoulder. He gave you a stupid grin before heading to the bar to grab the two of you some drinks.

“What the fuck are you doing here, sweetheart?”

You cursed under your breath and turned to glare at Neal Logiudice, the absolute last person you wanted to see.

“Hello Neal.” You grumbled.

“Get out of here, Wally.” He said, dismissing the professor he had very rudely interrupted. “Go find some other asshole to bother.”

The old man just huffed and gave you a sympathetic pat on the arm as he hobbled away.

“That was rude.” You said, your eyes roaming the room in search of Andy. You didn’t feel like dealing with Neal’s bullshit tonight. “Why are you here Neal? I thought this was a faculty only event.”

“Alumni are invited too. And you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” He growled, stepping closer and invading your bubble. “Cuz you’re definitely not alumni or faculty. You work your way through all the lawyer dick at your bar and come looking for more?”

“Lovely.” You said dryly, frowning at the smell of whiskey that enveloped the man. “You’re drunk.”

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder and turned your head just enough to see Andy scowling behnd you. He slotted himself beside you and wrapped his arm around you in a protective embrace as he and Neal stared each other down.

“Logiudice.” He said menacingly, and you rolled your eyes as the levels of testosterone in the room shot up suddenly.

“Barber.” The giant said with a sneer. “I see you’ve moved on to the leftover dregs of the Newton law community. I hear that pussy’s had every defense attorney cock in town.”

Andy let out an absolutely feral growl and you just managed to hold him back as you glared at Neal.

“Jesus, Neal. Glad to see you’re not bitter.” You said with little humor as your arm strained against Andy’s chest.

“No bitterness here, sweetheart. Just waiting for you to work your way to me.” He leered at you, giving you a lascivious wink.

You let out a sigh as you started to shove Andy away from the idiot, grateful for all your experience manhandling drunks as he fought against you every step of the way.

“He’s not worth it, baby.” You murmured once you had achieved a good amount of distance, your hands smoothing his jacket over his chest in a soothing gesture as Neal let out a guffaw behind you.

“I dunno, I kinda feel like punching him in the face is definitely worth it, sweetheart.” Andy said as he took some deep breaths and turned his gaze back to you.

“Maybe not at your first event for your new job though.” You teased him, tugging softly on his beard and making him grin at you. “Where’s my fucking drink?”

“Shit, I got distracted. I’ll be right back.” He said apologetically, starting to turn away from you.

“Oh no, you are not leaving me by myself again. All I need is to get cornered by some crazy professor who wants to tell me all about bird law.” You said as you tagged after him, the two of you weaving your way through the partygoers as you made your way to the bar.

“What the fuck is ‘bird law’?” He beamed at you after ordering your drinks, leaning against the bar and cocking one eyebrow at you.

“Jesus, I think you might be too classy for me, Barber.” You teased. “We’ve gotta work on your pop culture references.”

The two of you managed to have a relatively pleasant evening, even though you had no idea what anyone was talking about most of the time. But you loved watching how relaxed Andy was around you, and how passionate he got whenever he started to debate with one of his new colleagues. He was in the middle of a particularly heated discussion about the evolution of laws regarding sovereign immunity when he noticed you gazing at him, and his face broke out in a grin.

“You’ll have to excuse me, guys, I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten and I worry I’ve been neglecting my date. Let’s continue this on Monday?”

He made his way through the party, saying some quick goodbyes as his hand rested on your lower back. You let out a soft moan when you reached the foyer and he pressed you into the wall, his lips brushing against yours before he broke away to find his coat.

He returned after a few minutes and wrapped his arms around your waist, his mouth moving against yours hungrily as he guided you out the door.

“Jesus, Andy!” You whined when he lifted you slightly as the two of you made your way to his Range Rover. You bent your knees so your toes wouldn’t drag along the pavement.

“I dunno what you expected when you were looking at me like that, sweetheart.” He teased as he wrapped one arm around you tightly and brought his other hand to fumble through his coat pockets in search of his keys.

“I couldn’t help it.” You murmured in his ear as he pressed you against the driver’s side door, working to open the door to the back seat. “All that law talk does things to me.”

“Yeah?” He muttered around a grin, finally getting the door open and setting you down across the back seat. “You didn’t find it boring?”

“Not when it was you, Professor Barber.” You said in a husky voice, winking at him as he climbed on top of you and pulled the door closed behind him.

“Fuck honey.” He growled as he tossed his coat in the front seat before burying his face in your neck. “You’re gonna need to call me professor more often.”

“Mmm, professor.” You hummed as he ran his teeth over your throat before sucking a bruise over your collarbone. “I had some questions about affidavits I was hoping you could help me with.”

He gave a dark chuckle against your chest as his mouth kept moving lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breasts as his hands moved under your back to unzip your dress. Once he had it open he yanked it off you and tossed it aside, bending over you again to nip at your skin as you dragged his suit jacket off over his shoulders.

“Why do I feel like you just want to hear me say affidavits?” He teased as you drew his tie off and started to work on his shirt buttons. He wrapped your thighs around his hips and ground himself into you, making you whimper as a fresh rush of arousal flooded your panties.

“Fuck, say more lawyer words, professor.” You whined as he drew the straps of your bra down your shoulders, drawing your breasts out of the soft lace and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples.

“Amicus brief.” He teased as his tongue laved over your nipple and you felt your pussy clench around nothing.

He moved to give your other breast the same soft attention as you worked on undoing his belt, your breath coming in shallow gasps as he worked you over. You finally drew his belt off and he sat up to remove his slacks, his lust blown eyes never leaving yours as he dragged his pants and boxer briefs down over his legs, tossing them on top of the rest of his clothes in the front seat as his cock bounced up against his abs, making your mouth fill with saliva at the sight.

You didn’t give him a chance to dive on top of you again, instead climbing into his lap as he knelt there and sucking his lower lip into your mouth. He groaned against your lips as you brought a hand down to wrap around his dick. You dragged his length through the slick that had soaked your thighs before shoving your panties aside and guiding him to your entrance.

Andy let out a deep sigh as you sank onto him, taking his full length in one smooth motion until he was fully seated in you. His tongue pressed between your lips and curved against yours as you wrapped one hand around his neck and the other around his bicep.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, baby.” He muttered against your lips as he started moving his hips at a languorous pace. “So fucking warm and wet for me.”

“Mmm, Andy.” You moaned as you nipped at his lips softly. “I love having you inside me.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” He murmured as he started to move a little faster. “You love feeling my big cock in that tight little pussy?”

“Fuck, I need this cock, baby.” You hissed, resting your forehead against his and staring into his eyes. “Nobody fucks me like you do.”

“Shit. You’re squeezing me so good, honey.” He muttered as he ground against you. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, I’m so close, Andy.” You whined as his hips thrust against you even harder. “God, right there. I’m gonna cum”

“Do it, I wanna see that cream all over my dick.” He buried his face in your neck and gave one last violent push of his hips.

You let out a cry as every muscle in your body went rigid, your fingers digging painfully into his neck and shoulders. Your pussy clenched around him for a beat before fluttering in your release as your torso rolled against his and a wave of intense pleasure washed over you.

“Jesus, baby.” He murmured as you came down, straightening his legs one at a time as he held you to him tightly.

You were still kneeling and the new angle had him hitting you even deeper than before, making stars burst behind your closed eyelids. Andy bent his knees slight behind you and leaned you back to rest against them as he moved his mouth to your breasts, making you whimper as his tongue brushed against your nipple.

“God, I could spend all night like this.” He murmured as he started pulling you down to him over and over, making you devolve into a mewling, whimpering mess. “My face buried in these perfect tits and my cock buried in that perfect pussy.”

You felt yourself clench around him at the praise and dug both hands in the hair at the base of his skull, pressing his mouth to your chest as you arched into him. His cock twitched inside you in response as he let out a deep groan, his hips meeting yours desperately.

“I’m gonna cum again, shit. You close, baby?” You felt him nodding between your breasts as his hips stuttered. “Fuck, I wanna feel it fill me up. I love when your cum inside me.”

“Goddamn it.” He hissed, and that was it for both of you.

Your knees squeezed his hips painfully as you tugged at his hair, a moan coming from deep in your chest as your orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt fluttered uncontrollably as your muscles spasmed around him, milking his cock for everything he could give you. He shouted your name against your chest and dug his fingers into your waist as his spend filled you up, painting your velvety walls in hot ropes that mixed with your own release and seeped over your thighs in a thick mess.

He collapsed back against the seat with a groan, taking you with him as he still held you tightly. You nuzzled into his neck as aftershocks still shook through you, your pussy clenching around his softening cock at random intervals.

“Well, fuck me Professor Barber.” You teased as he buried his face in your hair.

He let out a groan and grinned at you as he brought his face to meet yours, his tongue slipping between your lips as he kissed you deeply.

“God, I fucking love you.” He whispered without thought as his hands ran over your spine. His hands stopped suddenly as he realized what he’d said and his held his breath as he waited for your reply.

You just buried your face in his chest hair and sighed before whispering “Love you too, Andy.”

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[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt

You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 

Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.

But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 

Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 

This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.

"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."

"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"

"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."

"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"

"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."

"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."

Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."

You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."

"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."

"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."

"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"

"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 

"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."

"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"

"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."

"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.

"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.

It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 

You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 

“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 

The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 

You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 

“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 

“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 

“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 

“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 

You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 

“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 

You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 

“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 

She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 

You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.

"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."

"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."

She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."

You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.

"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."

Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"

"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."

"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."

Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."

You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."

The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.

Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."

You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."

"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.

"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.

Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."

You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."

The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.

"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."

"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."

"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."

"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.

"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."

"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."

"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.

"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"

"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 

The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 

You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 

You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.

“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 

You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 

 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 

You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 

“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 

Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 

“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 

“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 

“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 

“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”

“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 

You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 

“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 

You groaned. “What?” 

“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 

“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 

“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 

You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 

“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 

You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 

“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 

“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 

Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Four

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1752

Warnings: 18+, slight fluff, drinking, consumption of alcohol, smut in future chapters (we are getting there!)

A/N: I loved writing this chapter. Sy is grumpy and confused, but I finally got something for him to be excited about! Thank you to @thelastsock​ again for being so helpful and beta-reading my work. Leave a comment, like or reblog and tell me what you think will happen next? Enjoy!

<Chapter Three

Title: Chapter Four

Syverson was not a man to be lingering on a woman’s attention for so long. He liked the chase, but his ego was fragile and if his attempts seemed futile, he would stop. But this time, a certain red-haired woman sat across from him had made it almost impossible to steer himself away.

Sy watched as Olivia clapped Schmidt on his chest, her head falling back as her laugh echoed in the night. She had her hand on the other man’s pecs, her body shaking with their shared joke and her face lit up like the fourth of July. Sy had noticed the bond between Olivia and her second in-command. He admired that they had an understanding, but he also desperately wanted to take Schmidt’s place in Olivia’s life.

Sy sighed, running a hand across his buzzed head and looked at the other soldiers sitting around him. It had been a whole week since the last time he had met Olivia at the gate. He really had wanted to pull her by her scarf and give her a long, ravenous kiss. But when she had turned away from him, he had felt stupid and angry at himself. Stupid because he was a grown-ass man acting like a teenage boy and angry because he had never subjected himself to devastating humiliation before.

Sy had chosen to walk away and since avoided Olivia the best he could. He had assigned separate patrolling hours so as to not run into her. He stayed put in his office most of the time or had chosen to take more trips to the village. He was trying so hard to dismiss all thoughts about  her, but she lingered in his mind despite all his efforts.  

Last night Sy had heard her voice from his adjacent room. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, conjuring her voice in addition to thoughts of her as he started to fall asleep. But then he had peered outside his room, only to spot her and the other ladies playing cards with his men. He had debated joining them, potentially walking into the trap of her entity and ruining the minimal self-control he had managed to regain. With a huge sigh and a grunt, Sy had closed the door and thrown himself on his bed before covering his ears with his pillows.

He had been successfully avoiding her for that whole week when he was informed about the party her unit had planned for her. Sy was amused to learn that it was her birthday the next day. The plan, he was told, was to have some drinks and chill on the rooftop with music until lights out. He could have stayed in his room but the urge to wish her a ‘happy birthday’ at midnight was too strong. So here he was, sitting on the floor with a glass of whiskey in his hand and watching Olivia as she spoke to her friend.

Schmidt had bumped into him with an armful of blankets to take up to the roof. “If only we could get whiskey for the Sergeant, she would be the happiest,” he had said, running up the stairs. Sy, with the new found information, had gotten a bottle of his treasured, fine Irish whiskey from his secret stash and handed it to Schmidt as soon as he had arrived on the roof.

“Come on, tell us something we don’t know.” Sy watched as one of Olivia’s men pitched in, slurring his words as he spoke while taking support of the man beside him.

Olivia was also visibly drunk, smiling sheepishly at her men. Sy noticed the flush on her skin, a faint rosy tint appearing on the apples of her cheek. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, falling over her shoulder and resting on her breast. Sy took a sip of his amber liquid as his gaze lingered on the ends of her braid caressing the soft swell of her chest with her movements.

“What do you want to know?” She asked as she placed her elbow on Schmidt’s shoulder. Sy let out a slow breath through his nostrils as he observed the close proximity of their bodies. Involuntarily, he felt his grip tighten over his glass.

“Anything from your days of being a Private!” Someone interrupted. Sy was too busy to note who was the person that spoke as he was busy following Olivia’s every move. As she began describing her days in the camp, Sy let his eyes travel down her body. She was leaning back on her hands now, with her face looking up at the sky as she reminisced about the past. They all had their fatigues on, except Sy, but she had unbuttoned the top three buttons, exposing her collar bones as she wore no t-shirt inside. Sy took a big gulp of his drink as he feasted on the minute details of her enchanting body.

“Tell us about Captain Coop!” Sloan announced from beside Sy. He turned his head looking at the blonde resting her back against her man. BJ had become a complete sucker for the woman for which Sy had had a private talk with the sergeant about the code of conduct and how he cannot throw out his bunk mates for his campsite romance.

“No!” Olivia remarked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Not him, not tonight.”

“We need some gossip to live by in this dump, Sarge.” Sierra commented from a corner, clutching her bottle of local liquor close to her body.

The mention of another captain had piqued Sy’s interest. Worry clouded his mind as he went over the idea of someone waiting for Olivia back home. He frowned at the thought and grabbed a hold of the bottle of whiskey to pour himself another drink. Sy had been so busy romanticizing himself with her, he hadn’t bothered to find out if she was single.

“Well-” Olivia started just when the lights went out. With a resounding groan, she was cut short as everyone around her stood up on their wobbly legs to wish her happy birthday. The sound of her exuberant laughter rang in Sy’s ears as her unit members enveloped her in hugs and kisses.

Sy stood away from the huddling group with his drink in hand. His men stood beside him, letting Olivia’s comrades speak first. Sy couldn’t help but smile as Olivia hugged each one of her team members with delight apparent on her face. He had noticed the way she treated her men. Unlike many from the enlisted army, Olivia viewed her unit more like her family and less like people who worked under her.

It took several minutes for the excitement to die down as people started to retreat back to their quarters. Sy stood leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched everyone walk by him towards the door. Schmidt was the last one to leave but not before wrapping Olivia in a hug and then picking up the bottle of whiskey on his way out of the door.

“Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday, Captain?”

A whole week Sy had longed for her to address him. Seven days of absolute hell for him to ignore her yet want her. Olivia stood a few paces away from him with her hands wrapped around her body as the wind picked up. Sy pushed himself off the wall and took slow steps towards the woman who currently occupied his waking thoughts.

When he came close to her, her warmth caressed his body against the cold. She had a dopey smile on her face and her big brown eyes looked up at him with anticipation. He gulped as his gaze travelled down to her plump lips noting the sharp points of her cupid’s bow.

Olivia shivered as a strong breeze blew past them. A few strands of her hair had come loose and flew onto her face. She tried to tuck them behind her ear but Sy caught her hand instead. Her hand fell away, Sy following the movement with his eyes where his hand left hers. He gently pushed the hair away from her face, his fingertips tingling with the feel of her soft skin against his.

“I’m sorry for being rude that night,” Olivia whispered, closing the gap between their bodies with another step. Sy took a sharp breath as she plastered her body flush against his. He could feel her curves against his, marveling at how pretty she looked under the moonlight. Her eyes gleamed like liquid gold as they looked up at him.

Sy brought his other hand up to her cheek, holding her face with both of his hands. He watched as she wet her lips with her tongue and her gaze dropped down to his own.

“Are you going to kiss me?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Sy felt her hands on his waist, clutching his t-shirt in her fists.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to finally taste her on his lips, feel her moan into his mouth. He wanted to suck at her bottom lip until it was swollen red. But he debated with himself, his lips tingling with the anticipation of the kiss he had been dreaming about.

With a slow, shuddering breath escaping his mouth, Sy closed his eyes. He touched her forehead with his, breathing in the scent of her. She smelled like lavender, a hint of rose and whiskey too. “Not like this.” He whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want our first kiss to be like this. You shouldn't be drunk, and I shouldn't be fighting this urge.” He opened his eyes to stare into hers. “You don’t know how badly I want to kiss you, but we’ll wait for it to be memorable.”

He looked at her, waiting for her to react and expecting her to feel hurt or rejected. But she smiled back at him instead and nodded. He kissed the top of her head gently and pulled her in for a hug. Her arms couldn’t reach around his body, she laughed drunkenly as she struggled to clasp her hands behind his back. The sound of her unrestrained chuckle filled Sy with joy and a satisfaction that all hadn’t been lost between them, that he need not ignore her anymore.

“Happy birthday, little birdie.” He whispered as he pulled Olivia tight into his embrace.

Chapter Five>

🌟Series Masterlist🌟

[mirandalinotto]

Why I hate the CAOS video essay that came out a week ago

Did anyone else get extremely angry at the way Friendly Space Ninja discussed all of the female characters in CAOS? like, don't get me wrong... I understand most of the points he's making, and agree with a lot of what he says in the video essay (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: A Frustrating Waste of Potential), but when he speaks about Zelda, Lilith, Prudence, and Rosalind, I don't know... i just get a bad vibe. It's like he's doing a "bad faith” analysis, and it bothers me, because CAOS has so many parts to validly criticize, and yet he missed the mark more often than he hit it, in my humble opinion.

He basically says the same thing over and over again: that the actors were good, but the characters were bad, because they were all boring, shallow, and one-note, or whatever... and it's like... dude? of all the things you could say (especially about Zelda and Lilith in particular), the characters being “boring" isn't really the biggest criticism one ought to have of this show...?!? and it isn't even accurate?

Like why aren't you criticizing the trauma porn? Why aren't you criticizing the butchering of Lilith's mythology? Why are you ignoring all of the character development that does happen (particularly with regard to Zelda, whom he actively seems to hate) in favor of insisting none of these characters have an arc? It’s not beneficial to anyone if you’re going to criticize a show’s characters by actively misrepresenting them!

Which brings me to my next point: one of the things that bothered me the most was just how surface-level his analysis was. You could tell he hadn’t watched the show in a while, and clearly wasn’t interested in celebrating any part of it—which is okay, if you just want to roast Roberto for an hour, be my guest—but why does it feel like this video essay was the YouTube video equivalent of writing a book report on a novel you only skimmed…? He made a lot of generalizations that made it seem like he only watched the first season, and then paid no attention to the rest.

For example, some of his arguments are just so random and insignificant? Like why does he make shallow observations the basis of whole arguments about characters, such as when he goes on about how Zelda says 'Praise Satan' too much and “it got old"...?!?! Like what kind of bullshit analysis is that...? How is that even close to being something worthy of talking about in a video essay that is an hour and twenty minutes long...? Why are you taking such a trivial aspect of her character and making it a talking point in a video that is already much longer than it needs to be?

And while I agree with what he said about Lilith's motivations being inconsistent/unclear at times, and that Zelda's character growth wasn't as linear or developed as it could be, it really feels like he didn't even try to understand these characters at all. I realize I'm biased, because all I do is try to understand them and explain their motivations... but still! If you're making a video about the wasted potential of CAOS, why do you immediately dismiss almost the entire female cast, pretty much out of hand, when they're the foundation of the show...? They ARE the potential?! The good parts about them ought to have been given some credit? Like why does he fail to acknowledge all of the trauma these female characters went through that very much informs their decisions, and instead makes it sound like nothing the characters do make sense? While I might not always agree with every choice these characters made, there usually is something driving them to do whatever it is they’re doing, and particularly in the case of Lilith and Zelda, it’s not that hard to understand why they make irrational decisions sometimes, when they’re literally surrounded by abusers and everything is constantly blowing up in their faces.

Also, something smaller that really pisses me off is that he includes Zelda sending Blackwood out of the room during the birth of the twins as an example of the show's misandry and "bad feminism," but that's literally not what that moment is about? If he stopped to think about it for a moment, the moment is perfectly logical. Zelda is a midwife, who was most likely trained in the 1800s, when men literally weren't meant to be around when the the birth happened, so how is she being a misandrist just by doing what she’s been taught, especially when they’re all in a crisis situation? Men not being allowed in the room is an established part of the history of women’s health/childbirth, and it isn’t exactly obscure knowledge! Men used to be forced/asked to sit in the waiting room during labor, and before that, when home births were the status quo, midwives definitely wouldn’t allow men in the room as a matter of course. In fact, it wasn't until the 1970s that men being in the delivery room became a more normalized practice. So, men being present/witnessing a birth is a far more "modern" thing than I think people realize, and the exclusion of them from the delivery room has absolutely NOTHING to do with women hating men...? like fuck off with that “misandry” argument, in this instance. do some research before you start reaching that far, so as to act like Zelda was being hateful for simply following “industry standards,” if you want to call it that. There are medical articles that still come out to this very day that argue that no one should be in the delivery room besides the person giving birth and the doctors and nurses, because the husband/partner often gets in the way and distracts the medical team at critical moments. (Also men tend to faint or get sick at the sight of the birth, which then forces the team to split their focus in order to see to the unconscious man on the floor.)

And don't get me started on the anti-Zelda rant he goes on towards the end!! While I agree very much that Zelda is a flawed character, he uses an example of her degrading Hilda that isn't even something she actually did?! It's from a dream sequence!?!?!? like dude, did you even watch these episodes/scenes before you talked about them?!? He uses the example of dream-Zelda criticizing Hilda's appearance as a reason why Zelda is such a bitch, and I'm like... seriously? that literally wasn't her? just because Zelda said it in Hilda's nightmare, doesn't mean Zelda said it in real life, and should be criticized for it...?!

But yes, Zelda is abusive to her sister, and classist, and rude, and many of the things that he says--but when he tries to argue that because she's a woman, nobody cares that she's like that, and it’s a problem, because that’s evidence of more misandry… that’s where he loses me. He sees it as yet another issue with Roberto's writing—that he gives qualities that would be condemned in a male character to a female character, and allows that woman to be one of the "good guys" ...but yet again, dude... you're completely missing the point?!? Women are allowed to be flawed, without you seeing it as some gross failure of feminism?

He also at one point claims that Zelda resents Ambrose, and hates having him around, when I would argue Zelda actually really values Ambrose and has a close relationship to him...? Like did we even watch the same show?

I didn't expect to get this heated about a video essay that made a lot of other points that I agreed with (mainly the dragging of Roberto parts). But in my opinion, this guy got really offended by Roberto's fake feminism (which is valid), but then proceeded to tear down all of the female characters for an hour and twenty minutes straight...?! All he did was talk about how they're all misandrists and shallow characters and therefore the show isn't worth watching? like okay... but here's the thing... plenty of women have made it through shows that have misogyny at their very core, and have still managed to find the good points...? Game of Thrones is like the most popular show of all time, even though there's misogyny in every aspect of it, for historical “realism" purposes (*rolls eyes*). Zelda and Lilith's defining qualities aren't solely related to hating men, so it really pisses me off that he made it seem like that's all that shapes them, and that every time they insult or manipulate a man, it’s completely unjustified.

idk. I feel like I just watched an 83-minute roast on a show I love despite it's flaws, and that roast wasn’t mostly focused on all of the biggest flaws that I would’ve brought up, but rather on how all of the female characters are terrible and their misandry makes the show unwatchable.

So let me get this straight: you're hating on the female characters... in order to show how much of a feminist YOU are, as opposed to Roberto...?

Wow. Much feminism. Very enlightened analysis.

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Lautrec Chain

Original Prompt: How Lautrec landed in that cell in the Undead Parish. We did it! Another chain is complete! A big thanks goes to all the amazing artists and writers who participated in this chain. Please check out their content and blogs.

@acebladespades

“A knight of Carim is nothing without his lady.”

He looked at the man behind the metal bars.

“You knew well what was expected from you.”

He took one step closer to the cell’s door.

“So why are you still alive?”

‐---‐-----------------------------

“I love you.”

His entire world came to a stop. 

Fina’s voice echoed softly in his ear. 

At first, Lautrec believed it was only a trick of his wishful mind. It wasn’t until he felt Fina’s arms resting on his chest, pulling him closer in a tender embrace, that he realized everything was true.

He closed his eyes and gently put his hands on top the golden arms of his cuirass. 

“I love you too, my lady.”

“Then, when the time comes, you won’t hesitate?”

Lautrec couldn’t answer. He knew his silence angered his goddess, but the question had caught him off guard. 

“I see.” Fina lifted her ethereal arms, leaving Lautrec alone with the metallic replicas of his armor. “Your ridiculous honor still means more to you than I, doesn’t it? How foolish I was to think that your love and devotion for me were real.”

“They are real.” Lautrec replied. “You know well you are my everything.”

“Lies. Your claims are nothing but honeyed and vacuous words. They are so typical of you mortals. If you truly loved me, you would have answered me instantly, without any trace of doubt in your voice; yet, all you gave me was silence. That’s not the way a knight should treat his lady, is it?”

“Of course not.” Lautrec smiled in a faint attempt to appease Fina’s temper.

Fina answered by resting her hands on his belly. At first, he mistook the gesture as a sign of forgiveness. His naïve perception changed when Fina dug her nails deep into his flesh and began clawing her way up to his shoulders.

The pain left Lautrec breathless. He fell to his knees, swallowing his screams and forcing himself to endure the punishment in silence. 

Even if Fina’s nails did not make him bleed nor they left visible injuries on his skin, the agony they caused him was real. 

Lautrec only dared to breathe again once Fina was done. The skin where she had touched him felt burning and tender, as if her ethereal nails had been covered in fire.

“If you wouldn’t treat a vulgar wench so rudely, what makes you can act with so much disdain toward your goddess?”

Lautrec didn’t answer. Fina didn’t gave him the chance, for as soon as she was done speaking, she embraced him again from behind.

The melted together, trapped in a blissful moment that Lautrec wished would never end.

“I love you.” 

Lautrec could feel the brush of her breath against his ear even through his helmet. 

“It pains me to hurt you like this, but you left me no choice. Please, my knight, do not make me do this ever again. All I ask from you is an answer.”

Guilt and regret kept Lautrec glued to the floor.

“So, I’ll ask you again.”

The ring on his finger throbbed with an invigorating energy that swiftly got Lautrec back on his feet. He remained still, with only the weight of his armor and the voice of his goddess keeping him grounded in reality.

“When the time comes, will you hesitate?”

“I won’t.” His answer came so promptly that his voice clashed with Fina’s. “Never forget that I am yours.”

“Oh, my knight.” Fina whispered so lowly that Lautrec could barely hear her. “My Lautrec.”

Though she couldn’t see her, Lautrec knew she was smiling.

 Underneath his golden helmet, he smiled too. 

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

“I must say I expected a more courageous performance from you.”

“My lady, it is one thing to fight a horde of Hollows.” Lautrec said once he was done rubbing of the filth off his helmet. “But to confront a ferocious drake, with nothing but a narrow bridge as our battlefield, wouldn’t have been brave, it would have been suicidal.”

“I suppose you are right. At the very least, I’m satisfied you didn’t end up becoming that beast’s dinner. You should be glad that its fire only brushed the surface of your helmet. Had it touched your skin, you’d be cursed with a burn that would never heal nor stop hurting.”

Lautrec had never believed such claims. He had always dismissed them as the exaggerated and baseless statements of antique books and scrolls. 

But he believed Fina.

The memory of the drake and the closeness of its fire formed a hole in his stomach.  

If there hadn’t been a secret passage underneath the bridge, the drake’s fire would have engulfed him whole, either reducing his body to ashes or leaving him covered in agonizing blisters. 

It was seldom that Lautrec felt fear, but there was something dreadful in imagining himself at the absolute mercy of a beast.

Forcedly, he dismissed his panic from his mind. The least he wanted was for Fina to notice how scared he was.

His lady, while gracious and merciful, did not take kindly to displays of weakness of any sort, and she took great pleasure in mocking Lautrec every time he failed to keep his mental barriers up and left his most hidden insecurities exposed.

Though her derision was always heartless and poignant, Lautrec did not resent his goddess for it. He knew Fina didn’t do it out of malice, and had he been in her place, Lautrec would have done the same thing. 

After all, he was a knight of Carim. To be always strong and resilient, especially when in the presence of his lady, was both his duty and his pride. If a lady mocked his knight, it was not to discourage or humiliate him, it was simply to remind him to keep the weakness of his heart in check.

Indomitable, stoic, dutiful, strong and steadfast.

Those were the true qualities of knighthood.

How Lautrec pitied the sentimental Astorans and the savage Catarinians for their deplorable and bastardized perceptions of what a knight was. They were pathetic, weak-minded and pretentious fools without a purpose.

None of them could ever understand what an honor it was for a knight to dedicate his entire existence to a lady. They couldn’t fathom the satisfaction a knight gained from being the eternal protector and the pillar of strength for his fated woman.

And if said woman was none other than Fina—

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing.” Lautrec said. “I was just thinking of how blessed I am to have you as my lady.”

Fina remained quiet. 

After a small moment, she chuckled.

“You are adorable.”  

She sounded amused. 

Lautrec waited for her to continue. 

When she did, it was only to order him to proceed with his journey. Far from being disappointed, Lautrec was pleased. Though his confession hadn’t given him the answer he’d wanted, he had succeeded in making Fina laugh. 

He had made her happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more.

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

After getting rid of some meddlesome Hollows and infected rats, Lautrec managed to infiltrate the parish the drake had guarded so fiercely. He felt tempted to rest for a moment in a nearby bonfire, but Fina did not approve.

“I know you are tired.” She told him, so tenderly and motherly that Lautrec felt ashamed for having even thought about taking a rest at all. “But you cannot stop now. We are close to our destination. Once we are in Firelink Shrine, you will rest there for as long as you need. I want you strong and refreshed when your time comes to fulfill your duty.”

The reminder shattered all sense of peace and comfort Lautrec harbored. He raised his mental walls before Fina could sense his distress. This time, his weakness passed unnoticed by his goddess, but Lautrec still felt a boiling hatred for himself and his own feebleness.

Even if he could fool Fina, he couldn’t fool himself.

His rage and frustration fueled his attacks. 

Every Hollow and any other abomination that crossed his way met their ends at the touch of his swords. 

Lautrec fought his way through the chapel, but his streak of invincible prowess was cut short when the armored boar proved to be an enemy he couldn’t defeat.

The beast charged at him and sent him flying towards a wall of stone.  If it hadn’t been for his armor, the violent crash would have broken his spine in half.

“Don’t even think about dying now.” Fina told him as he struggled to get back on his feet. “If you die, do you know how long it would take you to arrive to this place again? Seriously, if I had known you were so frail and easily defeated, I would have allowed you to rest at the bonfire. No wonder that harlot you used to look after is long dead. She was cursed to an early demise the moment you were made her guardian.”

Lautrec couldn’t move. 

He felt as if Fina had dug a dagger into his chest and had ripped out his still beating heart.  He would have remained there, rotting in his own bafflement for all time, if the loud trotting of the boar hadn’t snapped him out of his trance.

This time, Lautrec avoided the charging attack of the armored animal. He lunged himself forwards and landed on his chest.

Then, his instincts took over. His former bloodlust was replaced by an urgent need to survive. 

He ran. 

He did not look back at the enemies he left behind. He continued running, making use of his blades only if he had no other choice. Many of the Hollows he was escaping from tried to follow him, but they were slow and clumsy creatures.

The few that managed to keep up with Lautrec had their heads severed from their shoulders.

To him, his escape was little more than a blurry vision. It was as if his mind had become disconnected from his body and dull to its surroundings. At first, Lautrec tried to convince himself that his numbness was the result of his exhaustion and stress. 

Like always, he failed to believe his own lies. 

He couldn’t think of anything else. He continued pondering on his weakness long after he was safe again, inside the confines of an abandoned church. 

How he had gotten there was only a hazy memory, as was his fight with the Hollow knights that lay dead at his feet.

His ring finger itched as if maggots were devouring it whole.

“See, my knight?” Fina told him. She caressed his chin, tracing a soft line along the bone of his jaw. “See how effective and lethal you are when properly motivated? Be thankful, Lautrec... for it is I who gave you the strength you needed to overcome your weakness. Go on, say it. Say that you are grateful to me for unleashing your best self.”

Fina rested her other hand on his chest, right above his heart.

“Say that you are grateful to me for being the only reason you are still alive.”

Lautrec’s mouth was bitter and parched. For the first time since he had become his loyal knight, he wished Fina would keep quiet and go away, if only for a moment.

All that Lautrec wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, but he was a knight of Carim. His time was not his to employ as he wished, it belonged only to his lady. 

“I’m grateful.” 

“Grateful for what?”

Lautrec clenched his jaw; he almost committed the offense of pulling away from Fina’s touch.

“I’m grateful to you for unleashing my best self.” 

Then, he felt it. He felt how Fina tried to pierce through the barriers of his mind. 

Lautrec strengthened his walls and hugged the arms of his cuirass.

“I’m grateful to you for being the only reason I’m still alive.”

“Oh, my Lautrec.” Fina kissed him in the cheek. The softness of her ethereal lips was followed by the sharpness of her voice. “If only I could believe you.”

Beads of cold sweat formed in Lautrec’s forehead. He didn’t know what scared him most, Fina’s anger or how easily she had seen through his façade. 

He remained trapped together with his goddess in a cold uncertainty that felt eternal.

“You’ve got nothing to fear, my knight.” Fina said, “As long as do as I tell you, you won’t be giving me reasons to forsake you. As long as you forget about that ridiculous knightly pride of yours, killing that fire keeper will feel as natural as the beating of your heart. The act will be quick, peaceful and pleasant. She will be grateful to you for freeing her from her cursed fate. She will enjoy it, and so will you, if you just let go of your past and embrace your present.”

Lautrec’s lips quivered.

“You are Undead.” Fina continued, brushing away the only tear that escaped from his eyes. “You’ve got no lady to satisfy other than me. The teachings of your homeland have no meaning in Lordran. I am your everything; you are my knight.”

“I am.” Lautrec muttered. He was overwhelmed. Not even the darkest piece of Humanity could have granted him as much peace and comfort as Fina did.

“Then prove it to me now.” Fina’s tone changed. It remained gentle, but now her words sounded like orders. “Over there, at the altar. Do you see it?”

He did.

There it was, at the other side of the church, carved in stone and untouched by time. Behind it, he could see the statue of a woman.

“Not just any woman.” Fina corrected him with a scoff. “It’s me. Approach it, my knight.”

Lautrec obeyed. He felt like almost like a child. 

The silly excitement he felt slowly vanished the closer the got to the altar, and it disappeared completely the moment his eyes understood what the strange figure laying on the altar’s surface really was.

Lautrec was used to the sight of corpses. He had been familiar with death since the time when he had been too young to become a page.

However, as unfazed as he remained by the decrepit state of the corpse before him, Lautrec trembled at the sight of the glowing orb floating just above the body’s chest.

“What a shame.” Fina said, “I would have preferred her to be alive so you could kill her, but it seems someone else already did the deed for you. You must be rather disappointed.”

“But I thought,” Lautrec swallowed before he could continue, “I thought the fire keeper would be at Firelink Shrine, locked for all eternity inside a cave, just like you told me.”

“Don’t be stupid, my knight. This fire keeper is not the same you will murder. This must be the tribute some deluded fool left here for me in a desperate attempt to earn my favor. Whoever he may be, the only thing he’s gained is my disdain. Does he honestly believe I would accept the offerings and advances of every man that comes by, as if I were a common strumpet?  The gall! Does he not know that Fina handpicks her knights and followers? Does he note care? Such offense will not go unpunished! If he ever dares to come back, you will fight him, and you will kill him.”

“I will.” Lautrec promised, wishing that the offender would return and give him an excuse to step away from the altar, but no one came.

“Regardless,” Fina continued once the worst of her flaring temper had passed, “it would be a waste to refuse this soul. I will not accept the offering of a stranger, but if my knight was to offer it to me instead, everything would be different.”

There was no need for Fina to instruct him further. 

Somehow, Lautrec managed to lift his arms. They felt heavy, as if they were made of stone. It took as much effort to get them closer to the corpse as keeping the barriers of his mind up did.

Yet, he could Fina trying to tear down his defenses and reach the deepest part of his mind. She wanted to see it.

She wanted to make sure that his heart was free of all regret and doubt.

Why shouldn’t it be?

Lautrec was staggered by the question as he asked it to himself.

To kill a fire keeper was the greatest sin a Carim knight could ever commit. It was an unforgiveable offense, a taint on his soul not even death could remove.

But he was not responsible for the death of this fire keeper. He had not taken her life; he had only found her rotting corpse on his goddess’ altar. 

He had done nothing wrong. 

He was following his lady’s commands.

So truly, he was fulfilling his duty as her knight. 

He was just—

“Take it.” Fina said in his ear. It wasn’t until then that Lautrec realized his hands had remained stuck in the same position for a while. His armored fingers were so close to the fire keeper’s soul that its gentle warmth could be felt through his gauntlets. “Do it.”

“I will.” Lautrec smiled. His pulse throbbed intensely in his temples. “I am yours, remember? I love you, Fina.”

“Shut up and take it!”

That he would. 

His rebellious hands had just started to listen to his commands when the blade of a rapier emerged from his chest. His blood covered the weapon, concealing the silver of the metal underneath a crimson layer.

Lautrec let out a soft gasp. It was the only sound his pierced lung could muster. 

Fina did scream on his mind; more than a mournful lament, her cry resembled a roar. She cursed the stranger for spilling the blood of her servant.

She damned him for damaging that which belonged to her.

The stranger, if he could hear her, ignored the goddess with sinful indifference. Instead, he focused all his attention on Lautrec. 

The stranger warped an arm around Lautrec’s neck and pulled him closer to him, further impaling him with the blade of the rapier. The weapon cut through the plates of Lautrec’s armor as easily as it cut through his flesh and bones.

“I witnessed your sin.”  The stranger said as he rested his chin on Lautrec’s shoulder.  “And it shall not go unpunished.”

“Kill him! Don’t you dare die without putting up a fight!” Fina exclaimed. Her voice resonated so loudly in his ears that Lautrec was surprised they didn’t start to bleed. “Kill this bastard, you useless coward! What kind of man are you? Are you even a real knight? Don’t you dare die, Lautrec. I will never forgive you if you fail me this way. If you die, I will forsake you and leave you to rot in this cursed land. I have no need nor use for weak men.”

The stranger removed the rapier from Lautrec’s body. His movements were quick, but they were not gentle.

Lautrec swallowed his pain and blood and tried to turn around. He would do as Fina said. He would not die in such a shameful way.

If a knight of Carim was meant to die, he had to meet death in the heat of battle. To perish under any other circumstances was the greatest humiliation imaginable. 

“My lady,” Lautrec stuttered as he tightened his grip on his swords.

Just when he was turning on his heels, the stranger grabbed him by his helmet and violently pulled him down to the floor.

He then grabbed Lautrec’s arm and pulled it behind his back until he let go the sword. The stranger kept pulling, almost snapping Lautrec’s arm from his shoulder.

“Useless.” Fina spat at Lautrec. Her voice was venom, and it spread across his soul like a blight. “Absolutely useless. What a pitiable excuse for a man, what a mockery of a knight you turned out to be.”

The stranger said something. His voice overlapped with Fina’s.

Lautrec tried to reach out for his goddess, but he had already sunk too deep into the darkness of death. His life was leaking away from him, taking with it all of his thoughts and his strength.

Soon, all that remained inside him was exhaustion and the phantom of his own despair.

Lautrec heard a distant, chilling laughter.

It was the last thing he perceived before death claimed him.

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

He got no response from the knight.

Oswald waited, but it was in vain.

He knew the knight was awake and could hear him. Oswald had defeated him; then, he had healed his injuries by forcingly feeding him Estus. 

Sinners like the knight did not deserve to be granted the peacefulness of death so easily. Death, contrary to what most people believed, was not a punishment or a sentence. To those with a clean conscience and an unburdened heart, death was a well-deserved rest. 

Yet, even if the knight had not sinned, to let him die would be an unnecessary waste of time. He was Undead, and for all Undead, death no longer had the same meaning than for those who remained free from the curse.

“You should have taken your own life the moment you lost your lady. That’s what was expected from you, or are you not a true knight of Carim?” 

Oswald said. The knight refused to acknowledge him, but Oswald did not care. 

“That fact you still exist when you’ve got no lady to protect is a sin in itself. How unfortunate that the Undead curse prevents you from fulfilling this last duty... or perhaps luck has nothing to do with this matter, and you sought a way to curse yourself in a pathetic attempt to preserve your life?”

Oswald listened as the echo of his own laughter spread across the church. The knight of the golden armor, however, remained quiet and indifferent. 

He had his chin glued to his chest. His hands were caressing the golden arms of his cuirass.

So, he was one of them.

Oswald’s smile almost hesitated, but he had long learned that to pour any amount of pity into those lost, deluded men was useless.

It was seldom that they broke free from their delusions, and most of them never tried at all. They became drunk on the promises of eternal love of the vainest of goddesses. 

They willingly fell for her empty words. 

Fina’s power over them was only as strong as the power of their own wills. 

It was no wonder she always picked the most broken and feeble of knights.

“Your failure to keep your former lady alive, whoever she was, is an unforgivable sin.” Oswald said. He took a step back from the cell. He joined his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the reason I am punishing you. Whatever sins and mistakes your committed back in Carim are none of my concern, but those you commit her in Lordran are my domain. And I saw what you did, so don’t even try to deny it. At this point, accepting your fault is the least you could do to salvage what little honor remains in your rotten heart.”

The knight did react to this. He lifted his head and looked at Oswald.

Oswald couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind his golden helmet as they were, but he could almost feel the ice-cold glare of the knight.

“I did not kill her.”  He said. 

There was anger in his voice, but also a deep emptiness. He would go Hollow soon.

Oswald smiled.

“Perhaps you didn’t.” He conceded. “I have no proof, so I cannot thrust the weight of this sin upon you; but I saw what you did. I saw how you tried to take her soul for yourself.”

Oswald expected the knight to say something in return. He was prepared to counter his excuses and tear apart his arguments, but the knight said nothing.

His silence was all Oswald needed to know he had condemned a guilty, dangerous man.

“If you were willing to commit such a vile act, what will stop you from killing a fire keeper yourself the next chance you get?  Certainly not your conscience, even less your pride as a knight. That’s why you shall never leave this cell. You will remain here until you go Hollow.”

Oswald gave one last look to the disgraced knight before turning his back on him. 

“And then I will kill you. But remember this, knight, your death is not your punishment.”

He told him as he walked toward the stairs that led to the church’s roof.

“It is merely the fate you chose for yourself.”

Oswald laughed again. 

He didn’t so out of mockery or cruelty, but out of amusement.

Oh, Fina’s so-called devoted followers.

They would have been pitiable if they weren’t so pathetic in the first place.

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

Fina had forsaken him.

The bitter solitude of her absence had almost driven Lautrec to his Hollowing, just like the death of his first lady had come close to sink him into madness.

But he had endured, though not because he was strong. 

If he had been allowed to keep his sanity after losing everything, it was because he had never lost his faith.

Faith that he could make amends and regain the love of his goddess.

A faith that became invigorated after some poor idiot freed him for his cell.

A faith that was about to be cemented now that the second bell had tolled. 

It was time.

He had delayed the act long enough.

It will be quick.

Lautrec thought as he grabbed the fire keeper by the neck through the barriers of her cell. She showed no emotion in her blue Astoran eyes.

It is peaceful.

Her stoic semblance not once faltered, not even as Lautrec slit her belly with a long slash of his curved sword.

It was pleasant.

Lautrec did not trust this last thought, but when his eyes meet with the agonizing and defying stare of the moribund fire keeper, he could see a glimmer of happiness in her.

It was then Lautrec knew that Fina had been right all along.

The gaze the fire keeper was giving him was not one of hatred or resentment, but of gratefulness. In the last moments of her miserable life, she was thanking him in silence. 

She was grateful to him for freeing her from her everlasting torment.

She was enjoying the moment just as much as Lautrec was.

“You are welcome.”

Lautrec told the fire keeper before letting go of her fading corpse. He forgot about her as soon as her neck left his hand.

In his other hand, floating above his blood-soaked palm, there was her soul.

I did it, Fina. Can you see me? 

Lautrec held the essence close to his chest. His mind, devoid of all barriers now that he had freed himself from his past fears and insecurities, was touched by the soft whisper of a goddess only he could hear.

“I do.”

Fina answered. For the first time since his defeat at the hands of the pardoner, Lautrec felt safe in the tender embrace of his one and only lady.

“My knight.”

Lautrec smiled. 

He felt whole.

@pan-de-torao

@dbzespio

Lautrec leaned heavily on his knees, gazing deeply into the bonfire and its dancing flames. He sighed softly as his wounds began to heal up, and the strength returned to his body.

Yes, this bonfire had served him well. But now, he felt it was time to move on.

His posture still stooped forward, he turned his eyes upward to behold the firekeeper. 

Much like his, her helm hid her face from view, and so he could not tell where exactly her gaze was directed. She was rested against the wall, her body still with a certain poise, one that indicated she was not one to be trifled with. She could hop out of that position and into a battle stance at once, and all with the ease of a well-trained warrior; he could tell. 

He rose to his feet with a slight grunt of effort. 

No, it would not be worth the trouble. He already had one prize; he didn’t need more.

~~ 

Those damned archers…

Lautrec nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of a new bonfire. He practically dragged himself to sit before it, finally allowing his gaping wounds to heal once again. 

“Oh! There you are!”

Lautrec startled, snapping his head towards the voice. 

But it was only a fellow knight, seated there on the floor nearby, just far enough to still be warmed by the flames. The crest on his chest held no significance; the fool had likely painted it on himself in a fit of self-grandeur, or perhaps, sheer lunacy. He also appeared to be adorned with a feather or two and... was that grass? A lunatic indeed.

Lautrec faintly recognized him; he had likely summoned the fool to assist him in battle at one point or another. He merely grunted a sort of half-acknowledgement of the knight’s words and returned his gaze to the bonfire.

The knight politely waited a few moments before speaking again. He leaned forward slightly, his voice friendly. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately. Smooth summoning out there?”  

Lautrec slowly turned to face him again, wishing that his glower could melt through his helm. 

“Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me,” the knight continued. “I must say: you’ve left me with quite an impression. I would relish a chance to assist you.”

Was that fondness in his voice? Truly a fool, this man was. 

Despite this, a modicum of camaraderie swelled a little within Lautrec’s chest. Fool though he was, this man was still an undead knight, trapped within this godsforsaken realm, no doubt charged with a quest similar to his own. He felt he owed the knight a warning, at the very least.

“Our futures are murky,” he finally told him, turning back to the fire. “Let’s not be too friendly now.”

“Nonsense,” the man proclaimed, the feather atop his helm swaying in place as he fervently shook his head. “You and I are bound together in not one, but two bouts of jolly cooperation!

“Whatever your quest, my good knight,” he continued, his fist held up in a firm resolve, “I feel certain you will see it through.”

“I already have.” Lautrec rose and readied himself to leave. “Now it is nothing more than a simple matter of delivery.”

~~

Breathing heavily, Lautrec willed himself forward before collapsing before the fire. 

That was too close. 

His eyes darted around wildly before settling upon the summon signs around him. 

So there it was. His answer to the ever-constant invasions…

~~

Lautrec and his posse had just cleared the hall when yet another invader formed before them. She was but a simple cleric, but her eyes smoldered with barely suppressed rage as she rose from the haze upon ground. 

“Oh, look! Another one,” Lautrec sneered, waving the others to attention. “How many times must these lambs rush to slaughter? Ah well… Let’s get it over with!”

Lautrec charged forward, his summoned warrior following in his wake. Just behind them, his sage readied his wand. 

The cleric immediately raised her shield, a flimsy thing, really, and certainly no match for his blades. It managed to reduce the impact of the sage’s magic bolts, but now, Lautrec was right before her. He reared back before striking her a solid blow, his curved shotel easily reaching around her paltry shield. The shield blocked his comrade’s spear, but the woman now looked rather breathless. 

“‘Tis a terrible pity,” Lautrec mused, trading his left shotel for a knife as he watched the invading cleric scramble to return her shield to her back. “Like a... moth, flittering towards a flame.

“You fellows… No? Don’t you agree?” He turned back towards his sage and briefly extended his arm towards his warrior, allowing the cleric a moment to ready herself for an attack of her own. 

As if she’d stand a chance. 

He chuckled darkly, watching as she lifted her talisman. She cast Force, which sent the spearman to the ground and the sage’s next magical projectile soaring back to strike him in the face. 

Lautrec himself stumbled before recklessly charging her again. If his companions weren’t able to strike her, it appeared he’d have to finish the job himself. 

She rolled away when he slashed at her with his shotel before charging at him with a knife that he hadn’t noticed she had been holding. He caught it with his own, slashing at her again with his free arm. 

Vulnerable as she was, and with no armor to boot, the cleric staggered from the devastating blow. Lautrec kicked her away, laughing callously yet again. The sage’s magical bolts peppered her several times as she struggled to recover. In the meantime, Lautrec traded his parrying knife for his second shotel, all the while watching her intently. 

Finally she knelt with talisman in hand. He recognized the gesture immediately as one of self-healing. “Oh no, you don’t…” 

With that said, he lashed out with dual strikes and chuckled as her form disintegrated into smoky mists. He helped himself to the humanities and souls she left behind before turning back to his entourage. “Well, well. I thought you were wiser… but I thought wrong.”

His summoned warrior lunged at her now formless remains with his spear. Poor fellow was a bit slow to grasp the reality of the situation. Finally he recognized she was gone and returned to Lautrec’s side. 

“Well, that was rather simple,” he scoffed and scanned the area. He beheld a glowing summon sign near the stairwell and went to examine it further. 

Ah, if it wasn’t the fool himself. 

Lautrec recalled the spearman, and summoned the warrior of sunlight. He arose with his arms in the air in a sun salute before facing Lautrec with a nod. Thankfully, he didn’t talk as much while in a summoned state.

Lautrec led them down the hall and pushed open the giant, double doors. He would have thought the room beyond empty, until he finally took note of a giant, stocky figure at the other end of the area. For a moment, they were so still Lautrec wasn’t quite certain whether they were human or statue. Either way, they wielded a hammer, nearly as large as themself.

Before Lautrec or the others could move in to have a closer look, another figure slowly and gracefully made their way to one of the balconies above. A single hand rested gently upon the railing as the knight, clad in incredibly intricate armor, gazed down at all of them. Within moments, the knight leapt down to stand before them, poised for battle. 

The one wielding a hammer hefted it upon his shoulder, moving the giant weapon with such an ease that it looked as if it were made of feathers. So then apparently this ‘statue’ could move after all.  

Lautrec faintly recognized the pair of warriors; felt certain that he had found their likenesses etched in marble somewhere within the city of Anor Londo. But it hardly mattered; if they stood in his path, they would be eliminated, all for the glory of the goddess.

The knight charged forward, his spear at the ready. Lautrec raced to meet him, easily moving off to the side to avoid the incoming spear. However gifted he may be, this spearman was no different from all others; he favored his right. All Lautrec needed to do was be careful to avoid that side and attack from the left, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Meanwhile, Solaire focused his efforts on the giant. He would avoid the swing of his hammer with well-timed rolls and slash away with his sword while the giant struggled to reorient himself. He’d have to sprint away whenever his opponent decided to charge him, his hammer practically transformed into a whirlwind. And once his back was turned, Solaire would toss over a few lightning bolts in response.    

Meanwhile, Lautrec’s summoned sage would hurl magic bolts at the giant. He was a large, and therefore, easy target, after all. And with both Lautrec and Solaire keeping their opponents busy, the sage didn’t have much to worry about, so long as he kept himself far from the fray.

Before long, the giant man crumpled to the ground and took his last breath. Ornstein leaped away from Lautrec to stand at his side. He rested a hand against his fallen comrade’s body with a clearly remorseful weight to the action, despite how simple it was. 

But that simple gesture granted the knight a sudden surge in power. His very size surged until he grew to twice his height and weight. His spear sizzled with electricity as he held it aloft, reinvigorated to fight anew. 

“By the goddess!” Lautrec exclaimed as the spearman lunged at him. He rushed away; this time, it was much more difficult to avoid the weapon, given it too had increased in size. 

Solaire took the moment to lob a spear of lightning at the dragonslayer. However, it hardly had any effect.

The sage had prepared a more powerful spell, and this time, several magical bolts struck Ornstein at once. He momentarily flinched before rushing forward to attack the sage.

Lautrec and Solaire used the opportunity to move in close, slashing away at Ornstein’s legs. In response, the knight readied a lighting strike, charging up his spear with crackling electricity. Lautrec just barely managed to avoid being impaled, but his body shuddered as the remnants of lightning burned at his skin. He rolled away and yanked up his helm to chug a flask of Estus.

Meanwhile, Ornstein leapt high into the air, his body practically shining with excess electricity. Both Solaire and Lautrec were knocked off their feet as the dragonslayer crashed back down to the ground, sparks flying nearly everywhere. Even the sage, far from the action, staggered from the impact. 

Lautrec frantically rolled until he was far away, ripping back his helm to down not one, but two flasks of Estus. This wasn’t going to be an easy battle.  

But once he had his fill of Estus, he clenched his fists tightly around his shotels. He would not falter. For, after all, he had the favor of the goddess.

In the meantime, Solaire hurried to his feet and rushed in to attack Ornstein’s legs once again, determined to give Lautrec the time he needed to recover. He narrowly avoided another lunge; his body involuntarily shuddering from the excess electricity. How he longed to drink but a drop of Estus… But he had no time for that.

Meanwhile the sage had quickly gathered his wits and hurled magical bolts at the dragonslayer. He was too distracted with Solaire to fight back, so the mage continued his assault without interruption. 

Reinvigorated, Lautrec moved in to assist Solaire. Together the two kept slashing away at Ornstein’s feet, all while avoiding his near-constant barrage of lightning laden lunges. Ornstein was just about to recharge his spear when the sage dealt him one blow too many, and the mighty dragonslayer finally fell. 

Muscles buzzing with excess energy and skin burning from electrical buildup, Lautrec heaved hungry breaths of air as he watched the knight succumb to darkness. A glittering light was left behind, along with several other treasures.   

But before he could go to retrieve them, the foolish knight hurried to stand before him. He jovially clapped Lautrec’s shoulder until he finally lifted his helm to look him in the face. 

“A truly excellent bout of jolly cooperation, my good friend!” Solaire declared, no doubt a hearty grin beneath that helm. “Here; please take this!”

Lautrec already knew what the man was about to give him, and he didn’t want it. 

Regardless, Solaire found his hand and pressed a warm medal into it. Lautrec could feel the warmth even though the thickness of his armor; the object was indeed strange. But he refused to close his fingers, so the medal eventually fell to the ground once the golden sunlight warrior finally vanished into thin air. Lautrec didn’t bother to give the thing even the slightest of second glances. He simply didn’t need it.

Instead he moved in to receive his prizes. A gluttony of souls, along with Ornstein’s own, and a ring, a lion engraved upon it. He doubted he would find much use for it. Regardless, he tucked it away along with the rest. 

He wandered about the area for a while before coming upon a moving platform. He took it to find access to the balconies above, and to his great relief, a bonfire laid in wait. He took a rest there, allowing his wounds and aching body to heal.

Soon enough, he rose to his feet and made his way to the double doors before him. What laid behind them took his breath away.

There, her beautiful body draped across a plush chaise, laid the goddess Fina. The room was warm; soft light that emanated from the goddess herself wrapped the area in a gentle glow.

“Fina…” Lautrec breathed, immediately dropping down to one knee. 

Fina smiled and extended a gentle hand towards him. “Thou hast journey’d far, and overcome much, chosen Undead. Come hither, child…”

Lautrec blinked. ‘Chosen undead?��� ‘Child?’ 

Did she not see him?

He cleared his throat. “Fina, my beloved… It is I, Lautrec the Embraced. And I have for you a gift...” He procured the firekeeper’s soul and held it aloft.

She beckoned to him again. “Come hither…”

“As you wish…” Lautrec humbly rose, moved to stand just before her, and knelt down, all while holding out his treasure for her to take.

“O chosen Undead,” she continued, her voice soft. “I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight…”

 She had more to say, but Lautrec immediately stopped listening. Rage boiled up within his gut and spread throughout his body as he clenched his teeth.

The blasphemous wench! How dare she pose as the everlasting goddess!

Snarling, Lautrec ripped his shotel from its sheath and slashed the imposter, causing the unsuspecting woman to scream out. But his steel did not taste flesh; rather, he tore through naught but haze. 

The woman was but a mirage. A trick of his mind. 

Just as suddenly as the woman disappeared, the room went dark. It was cold here. 

Lautrec looked about wildly, but he was alone, left with nothing but a soft, almost fading light from the firekeeper’s soul. He dropped his shotel, and it clattered to the ground, louder than ever now. 

Was Fina… testing him?

He clenched his fist. No, it was that woman’s fault. She was a charlatan, a fake. Nothing was worse than impersonating a goddess. And it wasn’t as if he had ever seen a being as wondrous as the goddess herself in person before. How could he have known? 

Yes... yes. He was not to blame here. No, not at all.

In that moment, the silence was broken. 

I witnessed your sin, and it shall not go unpunished. 

Lautrec froze. Too afraid to turn and face the voice. 

Thou shalt perish in the twilight of Anor Londo.

No, this wasn’t happening. Everything he had done… it was all for Fina. 

He couldn’t have…

Slight footsteps from behind compelled him to whirl around. A blue phantom stood within the doorway; she was dressed in light armor, not unlike the painting guardians he had encountered shortly after he had entered Anor Londo. And just like those warriors, she was wielding two short blades. 

He would have bent to retrieve his shotel, but his limbs felt heavy, worn. And before his mind could have the opportunity to overpower his fading will, the warrior rushed forward, her blade plunging into his abdomen. She twisted the weapon, and he shuddered, the pain overtaking all of his senses. She kicked him to remove her blade, and his body easily crumpled to the ground. 

He laid there in agony, coughing up blood and wondering why she hadn’t yet finished him off. Once he finally opened his eyes, he saw her, tenderly holding the firekeeper’s soul. He must have dropped it at some point, or maybe she had taken it from his hand; he could hardly tell, much less remember, at this point. All he knew was that it was ill-gotten. That he had soiled Fina’s good name in taking it.

Before long, his helm was roughly ripped off of him. “This is for Anastacia of Astora,” the warrior stated, her voice cold. 

With that said, she lopped off his ear. “The Dark Sun will be pleased.” Her voice was soft now, devoid of the malice with which she spoke earlier. 

He watched her ready a black separation crystal. “You will not kill me?” he finally managed to ask.

“Killing you would only end your suffering.” She stepped on the wound in his gut and pressed down, forcing him to cry out yet again. “And my wish for you is to wallow in it.”

She finally backed away and activated her crystal, returning to her realm awash in shining light.

Lautrec, bloodied and broken, finally mustered the strength to drag himself out of the room and towards the bonfire beyond. 

But it was not lit.

He coughed again, blood spattering across the marbled floor. His vision blurred; the blood loss certainly wasn’t helping matters.

He crawled onwards, knowing full well he was too far gone to reach another bonfire. But he knew he must try. For Fina’s sake.

Fina…

He had failed her. 

No…! He would never…!

His fingers trembled as he continued to drag himself forward. Onwards.

Everything, yes, everything he had done, all of it was for Fina. For her glory. For his honor. For their love.

But…

Lautrec faltered and hissed. The pain was too great.

Fina was a magnificent, benevolent goddess. Death in her name would only serve to sully her beauty, her magnanimity. She would never allow it.

But the prize.

The endless souls… They would preserve her beauty forever; grant her with eternal youth.

Lautrec’s fingers hit into a wall. He could barely see straight; his body felt cold. He wasn’t certain how much longer he would last.

He pulled himself into a seated position, his back against the wall. He breathed deeply, as best as his tired lungs would allow. 

The ends do not justify the means.

He had failed his goddess, his love, by dishonoring her name. She would never accept any gifts, any love from a man drenched in sin. He knew this now.

He would perish within the twilight of Anor Londo.

As his goddess ordained. 

@lefrustemangaka

@taroris​

Silence always followed death. It was mandatory, as only death could rip things from this world with such coldness and leave a grieving void where the poor soul exhaled its last breath. Once the Shrine’s fire faded, not even the breeze dared to break the deathly quietness.

It took a while for Anastacia’s grasp around the metal rod to vanish; her delicate face contracted in a somewhat painful expression yet with relief under her lifeless blue eyes. Blue eyes which also stared at Lautrec with reproach; reproach because it wasn’t yet her time to leave, because she was supposed to die after fulfilling her role as Firekeeper, not in the hands of a knight who kept her company day after day until turning his blade against her.

With a swift measured move of hand, Lautrec cleaned the blood from his shotel. It was splattered on the floor in front of the rusty cell, which seemed to have been built in a rush by non-expert hands. Her frame paled in the light, not even a murmur was produced by the vanishment process. Then, the delicate soul of Anastacia jingled where her place has been for, perhaps, an eternity; tiny humanities dancing around the pure white light, happy, unbothered by the grim turn of events.

Lautrec picked them up and gave a look at the light and the darkness. Both antagonists floated pleasantly in his hand; darkness around light, light around darkness. The tendrils of Anastacia’s soul seemed to caress the humanities, as a mother would do to their kids. The humanities seemed to love the attention as they appeared to jump and shake their small bodies pleased. The somewhat peace these poor vestiges of a past life enjoyed was finally disrupted, for the image of the very safety and home meant nothing to Lautrec, whose real home was in the arms of a Goddess and the safety was only reached after the brief moments of offering the humanities he separated from Anastacia and placed inside his travel bag.

The Firekeepers' soul seemed to shiver when the mourning was over and the wind blew in the shrine, caressing its tendrils and letting it know of the newfound loneliness.

Truth be told, the reaction of the white soul was rather peculiar. With a tilt of his head, Lautrec observed how it reacted to its surroundings. How it seemed to know somehow that something was off. Maybe the pureness of the Firekeepers’ souls was the one to blame; souls remaining safe of the hunger that leads most Undeads, unbothered by the filthiness of the world that has no room for these same souls unless entrusted with the task to tend fire.

Lautrec scoffed. He was no innocent human, that was as true as the sky was blue. On top of that, he was hungry; hungry to please her Lady, hungry to give her everything she wished for. Staring at the soul wouldn’t do him any good. Then, almost in a whisper, a kind voice spoke to him. It spoke to him about time, about love, about forgiveness. For Lautrec, there was only one thing more absolute than death, and that was her Goddess’s words. He knew what he had to do next: complete his duty in the so-called city of Gods, but which was no home for his Lady. At least, not anymore.

The knight left the Shire, wherein the few beings remaining there barely noticed his leave. He, then, resumed his travel; going through the cathedral, through the burg, through the fortress made to break one’s soul but merely scratched his for the loving voice gave him the strength needed to prevail and move forward. It was such the faith in his Lady’s words that he even travelled through air (carried by nasty ugly demons) to arrive at his destination.

With utmost care, Lautrec inspectioned the place until finding the bonfire and, with the bonfire, the Firekeeper. He felt the arms around his torso hug him even in a more affectionate way, and the joy which washed over his body was almost overwhelming. Yet, he shouldn’t be carried away by those feelings, or he could end up imprisoned again, when the end of his task was within the reach of his fingertips.

When the Firekepeer spoke, Anastacia’s Soul shaked faintly in his travel bag.

“Mmh… You are a rare visitor,” she said once he walked down the stairs. In her voice, there was a hit of something Lautrec couldn’t place right away. “Welcome to the lost city of Anor Londo. If you seek Lord Gwyn’s old keep, exit here and head straight yonder. If you-”

“I will, for now, allow myself to take a rest,” Lautrec interrupted her.

It had been quite a while since he had been around a talkative Firekeeper. Instead, he had grown so comfortable with the silence around Anastacia that he had forgotten how annoying these women can be sometimes; with their gibberish and duties.

“Very well. After all, that is what the bonfire is for,” she muttered, with annoyance and that something which was still difficult to place in her voice.

Lautrec sat down near the fire. His tired legs sighed with the brief break they were given while his hands quickling unfastened the travel bag around his waist.

The moment to observe her came when he pretended to take care of his equipment, of his shotels and armour. It stood out that Firekeeper was nothing like the previous ones he had encountered before; all delicate ladies, sometimes blinded, sometimes too oblivious of the world around her. This woman, instead, looked like a warrior, and it was not because of the pretentious armour befitting of an even more pretentious place like Anor Londo. No. It was because of the aura around her, of the way she folded her arms, the posture she kept against the wall, the way tried to appear like she was self-absorbed but her eyes felt like daggers poking his skin.

It finally clicked. That something hard to place in her voice: mistrust. This woman was, by all means, different from the previous Firekeepers who always thought he was a well-meaning knight searching for their help and fire. This woman was dangerous, because mistrust made you be aware of dangers, of betrayal, and made offering harder. Lautred needed to find help, and by help it meant cannon fodder. For that reason he got up and announced it was time to continue his journey. The knight, then, adventured himself even further in the city, further into the high building.

His shotel cut through multiple enemies dressed in white clothes and who threw daggers. He got no reward from it and the voice whispering kind words suddenly started to rush him to go back to the Firekeeper’s place. Oh, how much he wished to speak with his Lady at that moment, to hold her delicate hands and promise her that she would have the world if only she gave him a moment to do what had to be done to cut the Firekeeper’s throat.

His steps lead him to a cathedral, wide, open, and filled with multiple enemies. Even if it cost him some estus, Lautrec prevailed and the colossals figures and Silver Knights ended up falling to his blade. When inside there was no more than silence (a silence aware of the knight’s intentions and which followed him as it followed death), Lautrec started to search for marks. For marks of unwaries who would have no other choice but to help him fulfill his role; perhaps serving as bait.

It didn’t take him long to come across a well-known yellow sign. Holding back a scoff turned out to be impossible for a solid second, as there was no point in summoning that crazy fool. Lautrec kept searching, avoiding the signs of Warriors of Sunlight as if they were infected with the plague. Then, finally, after walking up and down the hallway, he located it: two white summoning signs. A sorcerer and a spearman. That would serve him well. Lautrec touched the first white light, with black letters signaling a name that he couldn’t care less, before touching the second one. Two men appeared in front of him and spoke words of greeting, too cheerfully for his liking. He barely muttered some words to content them for there were more pressing matters to attend.

After the pointless greeting was over, the three of them walked to the entry, to the closed massive doors. With a sigh, Lautrec started to look for the mechanism to open them, locating a giant lever attached to some big gears.

Upon touching the handle, though, he felt it. The soft rumbling of worlds clashing together. His furrow deepened under his helmet and walked back to his comrades who were looking at their surroundings. Lautrec didn’t feel like playing the mouse and cat game at that moment, so, when the other two men looked at him wondering about his plan, he simply ordered them to wait until the dark phantom appeared.

And the phantom did so. After a closer look at the armour, an amused hum left his lips. The Chosen Undead straightened their back and when their gaze fell on the knight and his cannon fodder, they stormed towards them, sword raised in wrath. The same wrath that filled their voice when they spoke.

“Lautred, you bastard! How dare you kill her?! How dare you kill Anastacia?!”

The knight waited (hearing reassuring words of his Lady that ensured him the victory) for the Chosen Undead to run towards them and for his summonings to defend him, as it was a mandatory rule between the fool Undeads.

“Well, look at you,” he began, dragging out his shotel. “I thought you were wiser, but I thought wrong!”

@thefatladysang​

[classysassy9791]

Drinking is not a bad thing after a break up. In fact, it's a damn good coping mechanism for Kagome Higurashi, especially at the bar with other heartbroken patrons. A guy buys her a drink, and then two, and then things get a little out of hand.

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

Originally written for INUKAG Week on tumblr circa 2016 Day 4: AU Part 1 Word Count: 2,400

Can also be found here

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Breakups were never an easy thing. They were messy, full of tears and angry outbursts, and the awkward encounters afterward were definitely something to avoid. Really, it made her wonder why anyone would choose to stop being single.

Kagome Higurashi grasped the strap of her purse tighter as she stormed into the local pub. The music was loud as the bass pounded through the speakers, reverberating through her chest and drowning out the sad thoughts in her head.

Screw men and their idiocy. She really should stop dating all together, and maybe she would. After all, she had her own place, an amazing career, and her cat Buyo to come home to every night. Who needed the male population anyways?

She leaned on the bar, her obsidian hair lying over one shoulder of her black, sequined dress. She tilted her head to one side, pushing out her red lips just a little. The bartender was there to take her order in a flash, eyes dropping momentarily to her low-cut neckline.

“What can I get for you, beautiful?” he asked, flashing a wolfish grin.

“Margarita on the rocks with salt,” she answered with a sweet smile, nibbling on her lower lip seductively.

His eyes were the blue of water so deep that she was afraid to jump in, but she was still tempted to. “Coming right up,” he replied with a wink, before making his way to the other end of the bar.

Kagome watched him fetch her drink as she slid onto a stool. His black shirt was tight, revealing his chiseled chest and toned abs. His face was above average with those eyes and tanned skin. Perhaps she would come back for him later, after they closed, and invite him home. It was perfectly acceptable, wasn’t it?

As soon as the thought came to mind, she immediately rolled her eyes and dismissed it. Why would she even think such a thing? She was not about to be one of those heartbroken girls who found comfort in the arms of another man as he screwed her senseless. That wasn’t her style, and she certainly wasn’t going to stoop so low now.

“Here you are,” the bartender returned, handing her a cocktail glass filled to the brim with tequila and lime.

She appeared pleased as she sipped it gingerly, relishing in the cool sour taste against her lips. “You have a nice touch,” she commented wryly.

He leaned against the bar. “So I’ve been told,” he said, his eyes dipping to glance at her low cut top again. “What brings you in tonight?”

Kagome sighed. This is not what she wanted. She didn’t come to the bar to talk about her problems. She came to get drunk, maybe smack lips with a guy, and then leave feeling a little fuzzy. “Just needed a drink,” she asserted, taking another taste, attempting to show her disinterest.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint.

“Is that all you needed?” he questioned, his voice low and seductive.

She frowned, not in the mood to deal with forward guys like him. Especially not so soon into her evening. She would definitely need a few more drinks in her before she even considered him. A range of words were perched on the tip of her tongue, hell bent on putting him in his place, but someone else beat her to it.

“Hey, flea bag,” a man said, stealing the stool beside her. “Get me a whiskey sour.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes and shot him an annoyed look. “Back again, Inutrasha?” he scowled.

“Do you want your tips tonight or not?” said man growled with furrowed brows.

Rolling his eyes, “fleabag” moved away to grab his order. Kagome smiled behind her glass as she took another sip. She glanced at the man beside her out of the corner of her eye. He was tall, with startling silver hair and luminous amber eyes. Definitely not like the men she was used to being with, and he clearly wasn’t someone to be looked over easily. His stand-out features made sure of that.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he grumbled.

Caught off guard, Kagome’s eyes widened as she placed her glass back down on the countertop. “Excuse me?”

“It’s rude to stare.”

Her lips pulled into a frown. “Well, aren’t you just a ball of sunshine.”

The bartender returned with his patron’s drink and slid it in front of him. “Inuyasha is the furthest thing from sunshine,” he announced with a chuckle.

Said man glowered at him. “Don’t get me started,” he warned, curling his hand around his whiskey sour. “I’m not in the mood today.”

“When are you ever in the mood?” he barbed, leaning his hands against the top of the bar.

Taking a large gulp of alcohol, Inuyasha slammed his glass down and abruptly stood. “You wanna take this outside, Kouga?”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” He shot him a sadistic grin.

Kagome glanced wide-eyed between them before grasping onto the silver-haired stranger’s arm. “Hold on,” she intervened, stepping between them. “Come on boys, its early. Can’t this wait until later?”

“Keh,” Inuyasha sneered, shrugging off her hand. “If you don’t want to get involved, go get drunk somewhere else, wench.”

All attraction Kagome had felt for the man moments earlier immediately vanished. She was not a stranger to name-calling, but she would be damned if she took it from some pretentious jerk she just met.

“Who the heck do you think you are?” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.

Amber eyes glanced toward her with disinterest. “What’s your problem?”

Her blood boiled. “You can’t just come waltzing in here, start a fight, and treat a woman like crap. It’s men like you who disgust me.”

Inuyasha knitted his brows and turned toward her fully. “Listen, lady,” he began, clenching his hands into fists. “I’ve had a rough fucking day and I’m not in the mood to deal with your whiney bullshit. So if you don’t mind, go get drunk somewhere else, you floozy.”

That did it. Before Kagome even knew what had happened, her hand came up at an alarming speed and made contact with his cheek. His eyes turned wide as she stood there, her arm still raised, glowering at him with eyes full of absolute hate.

“Holy shit,” Kouga breathed, his piercing blue eyes glancing between the two. That had quickly gone from bad to worse.

Inuyasha brought a hand to his face, his cheek still resonating with heat from where she had smacked him. After getting over the initial shock, he glared at her. This chick had some nerve. Never in all his life had he met someone so infuriating!

“What the fuck—“

“Kouga!”

The bartender turned at the sound of his name to see a red-headed woman storming through the crowd. He visibly paled. This was bad. This was really freakin’ bad. If the manager saw a fight in the bar so soon into the evening, there was be hell to pay.

As the realization of what she had done sunk in, Kagome began to wither under Inuyasha’s intense gaze. Where in the world had that come from? She was not a violent person. She wouldn’t hurt a fly! And yet, she had smacked some stranger in a bar for simply having a dirty mouth. Oh. Oh no.

Heat crept up her neck and flushed her cheeks, but she was just as stubborn as she was kind. She bit the inside of her cheek to steel her nerves. “Look,” she began, hoping to ward off his impending fury. “I didn’t mean—“

“Quiet, you two!” Kouga hissed, leaning over the bar. “Sit down and look like you’re having a good time!”

Kagome had no time to object as Kouga forcefully pulled both her and Inuyasha back onto their stools. He pushed their glasses toward them eagerly, his eyes glancing fearfully between them and the crowd. Curiosity got the better of her embarrassment, and Kagome found herself searching the mass of people behind her.

“What is it, Kouga?” she dared to ask, momentarily forgetting the silver-haired idiot sitting beside her.

The bartender gulped, nervously cleaning a glass. “Ayame’s here,” he grumbled with wide eyes, as if that alone would mean anything to her.

Before she could ask any more questions, a fiery red-headed woman pushed between her and Inuyasha. “Kouga,” she said sternly, leaving no room to question her authority. “Didn’t I tell you to restock the bar inventory before nine o’clock?”

“I thought you told Hakkaku to do it?” he prodded.

Kagome could see he was racking his brain for a way out of this one. Apparently, he was afraid of Ayame’s temper, and she could see why.

The bar manager narrowed her green eyes at him. “Hakkaku isn’t working tonight,” she snapped. She leaned forward threateningly. “It better be stocked in thirty minutes. Otherwise, it’s your job.”

She turned on her heel and left as quickly as she had come, leaving a shaking bartender in her wake. Kagome turned hesitant eyes to Kouga. “Are you all right?” she asked.

He blushed and scowled. “Damn that Ayame,” he grumbled hotly. He set down the glass and began walking to the other end of the bar, mumbling, “I’ll be right back,” over his shoulder.

“That was a little harsh,” Kagome muttered, turning her attention back to her drink. Tonight was definitely bizarre to say the least. All she wanted to do was drink until she could forget what had happened earlier that day, but already she had run into a flirtatious bartender, an arrogant brute, and a hot headed manager.

“It’s his own fault,” Inuyasha piped up beside her.

Kagome startled, almost forgetting he was there. “Come again?”

He nonchalantly took a sip of his drink. “If he did what he was supposed to, Ayame wouldn’t be hounding him. But he’s lazy and would rather flirt with girls than do his job.”

“Isn’t that part of his job?” she pointed out. “I mean, girls tend to leave better tips for a man who gives them attention.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Is that what you’re gonna do?”

Realizing the implications behind his words, warmth flushed her cheeks as she frowned. “No,” she denied. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

Inuyasha smirked. “That’s hard to believe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she quipped, her blood beginning to boil.

“A single girl sitting alone at the bar on a Friday night?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t exactly scream purity.”

She glared daggers and clenched her hands tightly into fists. “I’ll have you know that I’m simply having a bad day and needed a drink,” she spat out through clenched teeth. “I plan on going home with a nice buzz. Alone.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, darling.”

Kagome faltered from the nickname. Well, she supposed it was an upgrade from ‘wench’. “All right, jerk-face, what are you doing here?” she questioned hotly. “A man sitting alone at the bar on a Friday night? I don’t see any pure intentions there.”

“Didn’t say I had any,” he reminded.

She rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. Not even a saint could be patient with you.”

“You wouldn’t know, would you?”

That was it! That was the last straw! Forget her simple night out. Inuyasha had completely ruined it. She had been talked down to a fair share already today and she would be damned if she sat here another moment being spoken to like that.

“You’re a jerk,” she snapped. “There is absolutely no hiding that. Apparently a girl can’t even enjoy a drink around you! No wonder you’re here alone!”

Kagome suddenly stood, grabbed her purse, and threw a few dollars onto the granite top for her drink. She was ready to storm out of the bar, Inuyasha be damned, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Woah, hold up,” he called.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, pulling on his grip insistently.

Intense amber eyes met her gaze, causing her heart to leap into her throat. “Sit down,” he insisted.

“No way!” she sassed back. “I couldn’t stand another minute in your presence.”

He exhaled deeply and slowly released her. “Look, I’m sorry,” he grumbled, averting his gaze. “I’m just in a bad mood. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His words shocked her. So far, Inuyasha had been brash, rude, and inconsiderate. Taunts and barbs she expected. She did not foresee his eyes becoming soft and the sharp tone of his voice changing to a gentle manner. This was unanticipated.

She eyed him warily. “Everyone has bad days.”

“Keh,” he scoffed, turning his attention back to the bar. “At least let me buy you a drink.”

Kagome sighed and hesitantly returned to her stool. “I guess I can’t turn that down.”

He raised his hand to grab Kouga’s attention. As soon as he was within earshot, Inuyasha ordered a cranberry vodka.

“What?” Kagome asked with a raised brow.

Inuyasha’s eyes questioned her. “What’s the problem?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want some girlie drink,” she pointed out. “If I’m getting a free drink out of all of this, it’s going to be something I like.”

He frowned. “What the hell do you want then?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” she replied, noticing his empty glass.

Smirking, as he was sure this woman was going to regret her decision, Inuyasha turned his attention back to Kouga. “Two shots of your finest whiskey,” he ordered.

“Make mine a double,” he heard Kagome speak up from beside him.

Inuyasha felt his jaw drop open slightly and he studied her. “A double?” he parroted, leaning his arm against the bar top.

“Yes, a double,” she confirmed with a nod.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Are you planning on hitting the floor tonight?”

Her eyes scrutinized him, fearless and full of a fiery spirit. She was not backing down. “I can handle my liquor,” she assured confidently.

Inuyasha’s eyes dipped to examine her body. She was a tiny little thing. Couldn’t have weighed more than one-twenty soaking wet. And she thought she could keep up with him? He smirked. This was going to be fun.

“Whatever you say, wench.”

She finished off her margarita and scowled. “My name is Kagome,” she addressed him. “So you can stop calling me that.”

“Sure thing,” he said, leaning toward her. “Wench.”

This was going to be very fun indeed.

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST  II

When dawn breaks you watch the sky blossom with pink, purple and blue, the morning chorus of birds serenading you with their beautiful calls. The camp is relatively quiet, barely a sound from anyone save the occasional snore here and there. The horses snort as they graze on the edges of camp and you finally sit up, taking in your surroundings properly for the first time. It isn’t so much big as it has more carts and tents than your kidnappers camp, more amenities too — this is a home base rather than a pit-stop. There’s tables with the remnants of card games and bottles on them, and animal skulls and chimes decorate the carts and trees. It looks homely, in a rustic kind of way, like when your daddy used to take you and your brother hunting in the woods and you’d set up tents in the wilderness under the open sky. Peeking to your side you see Tilly and Mary-Beth are still sound asleep, but you don’t see Karen and you wonder if she’s already awake or not. You haven’t seen, or heard, her yet. There’s another couple of women who you haven’t yet met sleeping on bedrolls in front of the cart next to yours and you study them for a moment before carefully standing and stretching. All your muscles are aching, your wrists sting with the effort, but you feel revitalized in a way you haven’t before. Guess a near death experience will do that to someone.

Philosophical thoughts aside, you realize that there’s not much you can do while everyone’s still sleeping without seeming like a snoop. But that doesn’t stop your curiosity from taking over. Quietly, you try to navigate about the camp without drawing attention to yourself and against your better judgement you wander between the tents and carts, looking over the members of the camp with an almost childlike wonder — you’ve never been among roaming folk like this before and you’re almost envious of how free they appear to be. Like a startled deer you bolt as quietly as you can when you hear movement, the shuffle of someone turning in their sleep, almost prancing in the dewy grass towards the treeline to hide. From your place hidden behind a tree you wait for the consequence of your prying with bated breath. When it doesn’t come you exhale deeply, resting against scratchy bark in relief. A snort behind you roots you to the spot momentarily, until you’re nudged forward by an inquisitive snout looking to get at the soft shoots you've so rudely been blocking. You step to the side to allow the horse it’s meal, smiling warmly. They’re all so beautiful, and well kept, that you can’t help but admire them. Then you spot the horse that Charles had been riding; an Appaloosa mare, whose name you sadly didn’t catch. “Hey there, girl,” you coo, slow in your approach as you step over to where she grazes. You don’t want to spook her. “Aren’t you a beauty!” The way the sun catches on her back makes her coat shine and you think for a minute that she’s the prettiest horse you’ve ever seen. Well, except your Ginger. That mare would always have a special place in your heart, no matter what. Your singular focus makes you blind to the attention you’ve attracted. An early riser, Charles notices you coaxing his horse into letting you stroke her as he gets a cup of coffee. Taima is, understandably, wary of you at first but she soon warms to you as you gently smooth your hand over her back and scratch behind her ears. While you lavish attention on Taima as the sun rises, you catch movement in your peripheral and look up to see Charles walking over, coffee cup glinting in hand. “She likes you,” he muses, looking between you and Taima. “Really?” You murmur, a fond smile coming to your lips, “I’m glad, I like her too.” There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both bask in the early morning sunshine and each other's company, but all too quickly it melts away into reality when the rest of the camp starts to wake and go about its business. Mary-Beth and Tilly greet you warmly, as well as Charles, when they go for coffee. Karen is still passed out, drunk, on her bedroll, snoring, and you wonder how you could have missed her when you were looking around camp. An older, sterner woman passes you, greeting Charles while giving you a once over. He greets her as Miss Grimshaw. You kindly say good morning ma’am. She doesn’t look impressed as she pointedly humphs and you wilt under her gaze. It only worsens when you look away and spot Dutch staring right at you from his open tent, squinting at you with an unreadable expression. At his side stands two other men, neither of whom you have met yet, one looking worried while he talks at Dutch and the other scowling as he toes the dirt. The three of them seem to be the ones that the others answer to, and so you quickly avert your eyes out of respect. “What’re they going to do with me?” You swallow nervously, turning your gaze to Charles expectantly with big doe eyes. He spares a glance in the direction of Dutch and the others and sighs, shaking his head. “Honestly? They’ll probably pack you up on a horse and send you on your way. Escorted, so you don’t come back.” You frown, your hands gently combing through Taima’s mane. “Well, I’ll be escorted a long way then,” you huff, “only home I have right now is with my brother William, and he’s in Saint Denis.” This time the silence is stifling, but you don’t dare to look at Charles. Your sourness is uncalled for and you know it— he’s given you the honest answer that you asked for, you have no right to be mad at him. And yet you are, because they’re treating you like a threat when you have no reason to be one. Luckily you don’t have time to ruminate on your actions. “Mr. Smith, would you mind if I have a word with our new guest , alone?” The way Dutch says the word has your back up instantly and you have to bite your tongue to keep from spewing venom. You glance up at Charles and see that his gaze is on you, sympathetic, but you know that he won’t stay to defend you. “Sure,” he nods, leaving you alone with Dutch at the edge of camp. You’ve never been more on edge. Holding your breath. Eyes pinned to the man dressed sharp as a nail. “Charles told me of your unfortunate encounter,” Dutch starts out, glancing back at the camp before looking at you with what you suppose is sympathy but is actually pity . You don’t buy it for a second. He’s a charmer , like the men your mother would tell you about when you were young. Never believe a word they say, she told you, because it’s all just smoke and mirrors until they have you where they want you. “I just can’t imagine what that must have felt like. Why, our own poor Mrs Adler went through a similar thing, at the hands of O'Driscolls too no less! So I offer our most sincere apologies,” he continues, shaking his head, “but, as you can see, we’re one too many as it is and a respectable young woman like yourself has no business running with a band of miscreants like us!” The urge to roll your eyes is hard to ignore but you manage to resist, instead offering a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Sir—” “Please,” he laughs, waving his hand dismissively, “call me Dutch . And I may call you, miss—?" “—DuBois. As I said, Dutch , I’m real grateful to have been found. They didn’t have to stay and help me, they could have left me there, but they didn’t, and then the women help clean me up and dress me,” there’s a slight shake to your voice, an obvious sign of nerves, and you know that Dutch sees it by the way his eyes squint ever so slightly at you. “I feel I owe somethin’ back, f-for their trouble. Their kindness .” You conclude, clasping your hands together tightly in front of you as Taima walks away from you towards a fresh hay bale. You suddenly feel vulnerable and downright stupid for wanting to stay, your mothers yelling echoing in your head for being so damned naive . These people were similar to the ones who had taken you, if assumptions were to be believed, yet here you were pleading your case to stay with them; absolute madness. Dutch is quiet for a time, stroking his mustache, no doubt contemplating your argument. All while you stand there stock still, big eyes filled with anxiousness. “Miss DuBois, you seem like a fine girl, but forgive me for being dubious. I simply just don’t know what help you could be to us, unless you’re hiding a stash of money or something of the like!” He laughs, an obvious joke, but it’s just the opening you need. A smile slowly spreads to your lips; two birds with one stone, coming right up. “Well, I sure don’t,” you muse innocently, rocking on the balls of your feet, “but I sure know someone who does .” The look on Dutch’s face is priceless.

[tf2-hellhole]

Nurse X Spy Full Fic

Contest prize for @nuttyartdump!

1,579 Words

     “Hello, Nurse, I- non.”

     Spy slumped a little in his chair, staring into the fire roaring in his fireplace.

     “Miss Bianco, would you- eugh.” He shoved his face into his palm and growled frustratedly.

     Why was this so hard? Spy has seduced many women in his lifetime, maybe hundreds. It’s practically part of his job. He’s the master of romance. This should come easily to him. Yet, even just the thought of asking his co-worker out made him unbelievably anxious and sweaty. He looked down at the small, fancy-looking box of gifts and treats he’d bought for her. -Does she even like these?- he thought as he looked through the treats, most of which were Italian and all of which were extremely high-end and expensive imports.

     “I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said quietly. He pushed himself to his feet, straightened his tie, and smoothed out the wrinkles in the front of his suit as if it would ease his mind a little. After a deep sigh, he picked up the box and left his quarters. He was going to do this. He had to do this, or he’d never be able to work up the courage to again.

     Spy gulped nervously as he stalked through the halls of the base toward her quarters. His heart pounded in his ears, and his legs felt like they’d give out. Don’t be such a coward, he thought to himself. You’re a grown man. Suck it up. There’s no reason anything would go wrong.

     As if on cue, something crashed into Spy’s back. With the force of the push, the box fell out of his hands and smashed on the floor, everything spilling out and breaking across the linoleum. “What the hell?!” Spy yelled, turning around to see Scout, who was trying to regain his balance, and Medic farther down the hall.

     “Sorry, Spy! Engie just brought in new supplies, I gotta see if my Ma sent me anything!” The young mercenary dashed around Spy and down the hall before Spy had the chance to cuss him out. Spy groaned angrily and looked down at the mess on the floor, and let out a surprised gasp upon noticing that the alcohol he’d bought had broken and gotten all over his shoes and pants. “Fucking imbecile!” he hissed.

     “How rude of that boy!” Medic commented as he caught up to Spy.

     “Yes! I-“ Spy looked up from his stained pant leg and froze immediately. Nurse had been right behind Medic the whole time. Scout had embarrassed Spy right in front of the woman he was in love with. How convenient.

     “Are you alright?” she asked nonchalantly.

     “I, ah-“ he cleared his throat nervously, noticing that she glanced down at the stains on his pant legs. “Yes,” he finally managed to force out. She only looked back at him with a curious expression, clearly not convinced by his response.

     “Don’t worry, mein Freund! I’ll come help you clean all this up after we collect our medical supplies!” Medic assured.

      “If you don’t mind, I’ll give him a hand right now. Just to get the glass out of the way so everything else can be mopped up,” Nurse said, calm enough to almost sound dismissive.

     “Alright, if that’s what you’d like! I’ll come collect you if I need your assistance!” Medic said, gently patting her on the shoulder before stalking down the hall and through the doors to the common room.

     Spy sighed shakily and looked over at her as he crouched to pick up the glass, pursing his lips when she gave an almost unamused look back at him. “Thank you, Miss Bianco. For the help, I mean,” he said. He almost scoffed at the nervousness evident in his voice.

     “No big deal,” she said simply. For several moments, they cleaned in silence, an awkward feeling in the air.

     “So, what was all this?” she asked, gesturing to some spilled, broken, and soggy cookies she picked up in her gloved hand.

     “Uh, that-“ Spy started nervously, pausing nervously to observe her expression, “That was for a woman. Yes, a woman in Teufort I’ve been seeing.”

     Holy shit. He was supposed to be the master of lying, yet in his moment of panic that was the best lie he could come up with.

     But to his surprise, something changed in the way she was looking at him. He was almost hopeful for a second, but when he looked up at her, her expression was cold. And not her usually relaxed, emotionless look- this was a harsh, mean look. She stood up quickly, almost glaring down at him.

     “I need to go help Medic,” she said softly.

     “Wait, but-“ before he could finish, she pulled a piece of paper from one of her pockets and harshly stuffed it into his hand before hurrying down the hall.

————

     Once again, Spy was sitting in his chair, feeling absolutely miserable. Further and further, he slumped into its cushioning, exhaling cigarette smoke with an exhausted sigh. He stared down at the letter in his hands, his fingers running along the edge of the paper. Pushing the cigarette into the tray to put it out, he read the contents, as he had done again and again and again for the past few days.

     I love you. I think it was obvious, but I just wanted to say it.

     His eyes skimmed over the words as if they hadn’t done it a million times already. Regret and embarrassment bubbled in his chest as he slumped even farther into his chair. Tears of shame pricking his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away as he had done several times that day. Again, he focused on the writing of the letter. He had a shot with her. He actually had a shot with her, and he threw it away.

     The least I can do is apologize and explain. I owe her that, he thought to himself. He didn’t want to apologize. He knew he really didn’t want to. But in his mind, this was his punishment for hurting her like that.

     He pushed himself out of his chair, walking to the back to the room and opening a cabinet to reveal a wide array of expensive wines. He touched several bottles as he considered what to bring her, ignoring the shaking in his hand. Eventually, he pulled out an extremely old Italian wine. “This’ll do,” he said to himself.

     He looked back at the table, where he’d left the only one of the gifts that hadn’t been broken or stained; a small box of Italian chocolate. “I hope to God she likes these,” he sighed shakily.

     He looked towards the door and paused. What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she got angry?

     He shook his head and pushed through the door. Even if she doesn’t, he still owes her an apology. She has the right to get angry, and if she tells him to leave, he’ll obey.

     The man had gotten so caught up in his own anxious thoughts and scenarios that he didn’t realize that he’d arrived at her quarters until he’d passed it by. He almost skidded on his heels as he turned and stopped in front of it.

     For a short moment, he almost turned around and went back to his quarters. Almost out of anger at his fear, he forced himself to knock on the door. There, he thought to himself, No way out of it now.

     He almost held his breath as he heard the door unlock. The door swung open. And there she was, now in casual clothes, as it was the end of the day.

     “Miss Bianco, I-“      “What do you want?” she said simply. He met her eyes, and she only stared back coldly.

     “I… I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he started, shifting nervously on his feet. “The woman I told you about, I-“

    At that, she smiled. “Did your lover leave you?” she said, almost mockingly.

     “Non, I- fuck. Miss Bianco, those gifts were for you. I had wanted to give them to you and… ask if you’d like to go somewhere nice. Out of town.”

     She only stared back at him with a cocked eyebrow and a frown on her lips.

     He swallowed nervously and continued. “When you asked who they were for, I got nervous and I just began to panic. I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t want to say who they were for, and I-“

     “Spy, relax. I forgive you.”

     “Wh-“ he sucked in his breath and looked up at her, wide-eyed. She only grinned softly with a giggle.

     “You made a mistake. I don’t see that as anything to be angry about.”

     “Are you sure?” he asked, almost like a child. She was usually a colder, calmer woman, not prone to forgiving others, so he felt as if she was mocking him.

     But her expression softened for just a moment, before she said, “Of course.”

     Spy sighed in relief, looking down at his shoes as the tension left his shoulders. He looked up at her with a grateful smile and said, “Thank you, Miss Bianco.”

     “Emilia. You may call me Emilia.”

     “Thank you, Miss Emilia.”

     “You’re welcome, Mister Beauregard.”

     “Wait, how do you know my-”

     “Don’t worry about it. Now, about that date you wanted to ask me about.”

—————

     They robbed a jewelry store lmao

[shyvioletcat]

Got any Touch & Go for us? I need my farm boy Rowan fix 😉

Everyone needs a farmboy Rowan fix today I think

Masterlist 

~~~~~

Remelle’s entrance could not have come at a worse time.

Rowan had been seconds away from kissing Aelin, a reckless decision on his part. He hardly knew the woman, not that he didn’t want to get to know her better. But he had taken one look at her beneath him as he braced himself above her, her face flushed and eyes bright, and the temptation to close that distance had been overwhelming.

Maybe Remelle’s turning up when she did was not such a bad thing after all. Rowan didn’t want to ruin anything before it started by going too fast.

Regardless Rowan rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He knew her tone well enough to tell Remelle was relishing in the fact she had interrupted.

“Pearl is up at the house,” he said looking down towards the barn doors. “I’ll just grab the last of these kittens and I’ll come up too.”

There was a rustling and out of the corner of his eye he saw Aelin sit up. That seem to draw the last of the kittens out from hiding and they bounded over to her, climbing into her lap.

“Oh, so now you want to play,” she said, holding one of the fluffballs up in both her hands while another fought her shoe.

Rowan managed to scoop up the attacking kitten before it could run away again and grabbed a little tabby as it darted away to hide again. “I’ll go down then you can pass me those.”

“Sounds good,” Aelin said as the little black one climbed on her knee. She shifted the white kitten she already held to one hand and then picked up the black one, then stood carefully, trying to keep hold of the kittens and not fall at the same time.

Rowan easily got himself down the ladder and put the kitten safely on the ground. Aelin lent down and passed down the last of the kittens to him then he waited for Aelin to come down herself, not trusting her shoes for one second. He hovered but she managed to get down without mishap and landed with a small jump.

“Oh no,” Aelin said looking suddenly alarmed as she watched the last kitten go out the barn door. “I should make sure Fleetfoot hasn’t eaten those kittens. I don’t think she’s seen a cat in her life.”

Now equally alarmed Rowan followed her outside but it turned out they needn’t have worried. The big golden dog had made herself as small as possible, lying flat on the ground, nose sniffing at the kitten who had fluffed itself up as much as it could as it hissed at the dog.

Aelin let out laugh. “Um, good girl Fleetfoot.”

The dog’s eyes flicked up to her master.

“I’ll protect you,” Rowan said and scooped up the aggressive fluffy mess. “I have to see how Pearl’s doing but there’s an empty field to the west of the house if Fleetfoot wants to go for a run.”

“You say that like I know which direction west is,” Aelin said.

That made Rowan smirk and pointed west. “That way. There’s no animals to torment her.”

“I’ll grab the toys from the car and go over,” Aelin told him and headed for her car.

Rowan let out a heavy sigh and turned towards the house, hopefully he’d be able to dismiss Remelle quickly. But knowing her he didn’t like his chances.

~~~~~

As expected Remelle kept him longer than she needed to, asking inane questions about nothing. But the good thing was that Pearl was doing well and recovering like she should. So leaving the cat on her favourite spot on the couch he had to practically close the door in Remelle’s face, insisting he was being rude to his guests. From the expression she gave him he could tell she didn’t care in the slightest. Once Remelle was hidden behind the solid wood he went out his back door to find said guests.

Aelin was easy to spot, her golden hair shining in the sun. Fleetfoot bounded over to her through the grass a tennis ball in her mouth. She dropped it at Aelin’s feet, nose down, butt in the air, hopping from side to side. Aelin used a stick with a cup on the end to throw it again.

“That’s a fancy contraption,” Rowan said as he approached her.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “No need to get my hands dirty.”

Rowan looked down at his own hands, it was barely late morning and there was already dirt and gods knew what under his fingernails and the creases of his knuckles despite how many times he’d washed his hands. And Aelin, she was so… clean.

He came and stood beside her and instead of dropping the ball at Aelin’s feet, Fleetfoot dropped it at his.

“I think she’s sweet on you,” Aelin said.

With one hand he patted Fleetfoot’s head and then the other picked up the ball and threw it.

“That’s quite an arm,” Aelin said as she tracked the trajectory of the ball. Then she turned to face him fully. “Nice place you got here. What is it exactly you do besides find ways to hurt yourself?”

“My uncle actually owns the place. He’s one of the biggest horse breeders in Doranelle and that’s where his main ranch is. This place is a hub location for those who don’t want to travel all the way to Doranelle and he’ll drop off horses here that are going to other parts of Wendlyn, but I do keep a small herd here to sell myself for anyone interested.”

“What kind of horses does he breed?” Aelin asked.

Rowan threw ball for Fleetfoot again. “Work and leisure horses mainly. His son is an avid showjumper so he’s dabbled in that. But, yeah, mainly ranchers buy his horses.”

Aelin nodded, like she approved. “How did you end up here?”

“My cousin who worked here got married and wanted to be closer to family. It ah…” Rowan cleared his throat, not wanting to delve into this part of his past just yet. “It came at an opportune time for me. Perfect actually.”

If Aelin noticed his slight shift in mood she gave nothing away, and didn’t pursue that line of questioning either. Instead she asked him something he didn’t expect.

“So, Reggie,” she said with a smile, “is he a troublesome horse your uncle sent to you to sort out?”

“No, not this time,” Rowan said.

“This time?”

“It’s something my uncle does do, if he’s low on time or trainers,” Rowan explained. “But Reggie is a rescue. He’s been in some bad places so I can’t blame him for the way he acts.”

“Do you often take in rescues?” Aelin asked as she threw the ball this time with her stick.

“Most of my animals are rescues actually,” Rowan said.

Aelin’s eyes lit up. “Your animals?”

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a few actually. I can —“ Rowan’s phone started to buzz distracting him, he pulled it out of his pocket and saw a reminder going off telling him to bring in a horse for a buyer to see. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go get a horse. If Remelle hadn’t taken so long I would have taken you on a tour but…” he gave her a hopeful smile. “Maybe next time?”

He could tell Aelin was fighting her smile, and possible a snarky remark, as she said. “I think I’d like that.”

~~~~~

Please give a warm welcome to Rowan’s POV! I’ve decided that I really like this story and have made some changes to my original storyline

Tags:

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[ginger-snapled]

It was shaping up to be just another regular night on the clock. There were the usuals sipping their poison of taste and sliding dollars over like it somehow made them special. Then the newbs, you could always tell which ones were stopping in for the first time. Typically, they had two other ‘buddies’ with them, egging them on and making crude comments trying to eek a blushed reaction from said Newb. And more often than not succeeding, which always meant whichever girl was closest received the blunt end of rude commentary and a couple $20s slipped over by Newb with an apologetic smile. Max stood at the door, arms crossed, surveying the crowd as an ever-looming presence that would likely snap your neck almost as quickly as he could ask you to leave. There was no need to feel unsafe with his calculating glare keeping tabs.

“I need you in room two.” The night manager, Jax, appeared next to me from what I could only assume was shadow walking as I hadn’t heard a single movement.

“It’s Amber’s night. And AJ’s backup.” I protested, scanning the crowd in mild confusion. None of the ‘regulars’ of mine were here so there wasn’t any reason for me to run a room on my off night.

“Yea well…Amber’s already been in there. As has AJ” Jax grunted shaking his head. “Candie, Brit, Celine, and Angel too if you’re wondering. I went through the list of everyone scheduled tonight before coming to you. I’m not stupid.”

One of the perks of being more ‘established’ here was that even the managers knew better than to send you in for tasks not on your day’s schedule. Gone were the nights of doing whatever was said in order to make money and keep making it. My face must have betrayed my shock as the names were rattled off because Jax quickly kept on before I could object.

“N-not like that. No. Fuck no. We’d have asked him to leave if that was the case. No” He paused giving me a side eye. “He said he’s just here looking for some relaxation but for whatever reason he keeps dismissing them. Candie was asked to leave before she’d even made it all the way through the door…you can imagine her reaction to that sort of ego pop.”

We both snickered as I could absolutely imagine it, Candie was one of those women who believed she was a gift to human kind and acted accordingly. If you didn’t worship her existence there wasn’t much point to yours. “All right…” I gave in, pulling my jacket off and handing it over. “But I’m skipping out on it being my room Wednesday. You’ll have to find someone to fill in.”

Jax took my jacket with a grateful sigh, clearly relieved though I couldn’t understand why. “Okay…look…you get him to commit to his hour reservation payment and I’ll take you off the room for two rotations. Dude’s offered a couple grand cash if we can offer this ‘relaxation’ he’s after and clearly run of the mill strip tease and CandieCane blow jobs isn’t it…”

Ah…there it was. The ever-present money motivator. I chuckled, giving Jax a thumbs up as I made my way to the room. I wouldn’t say it out loud but I had to admit I wanted to know who was in the room. I didn’t hold too much hope that I’d keep his attention, while I know I’m above average in the looks department I definitely think at least two of the others rank above me. And he’d dismissed them.

I knocked, entering without waiting for invitation, and glanced around. The room was as it always was, comfortable seats on one side, small private stage and pole directly in front, a little table where drinks rested. And an unassuming man who lounged in one of the chairs. I’d never seen him before but judging by his relaxed demeanor he wasn’t among the newbs, and the causal jeans and t-shirt he sported pegged him far lower on the corporate chain than most men using this room.

“Evening.” I offered sweetly, starting towards the stage. “I’ll be stepping in for your entertainment. If there’s anything you want or need don’t hesitate to let me know.”

He hadn’t stopped me in the door way, though I felt his eyes move over my clothing and tried not to feel self-conscious. Jax would die if he knew I hadn’t changed before going to ‘work’ and instead popped in wearing my street clothes. Which today consisted of yoga pants, a sports bra, and an off the shoulder sheer shirt. I’d had the good sense to kick my shoes off at the door but otherwise I probably looked like the plainest woman around.

I placed my phone on the speaker, setting the playlist and making my way to the pole. I preferred dancing to instrumental music, lyrics tending to get in the way of intention and vision. It’s easy to get into the movements of dancing when it’s not for anyone other than myself, usually not a problem for me. But tonight was different because of Jax’s urgency that this work…and the man barely even glancing my way.

I’m not sure how he dismissed any of the other ladies working tonight because not once did I catch his eyes on me, not a single twist or bend. He didn’t seem to notice when my shirt landed on the floor, nor did he bat an eye as I slowly peeled off my yoga pants one leg at a time. (Yes girls, there’s a sexy way to do this). No…he spent the entire time staring at the lit square screen in the palm of his hand, sipping his drink. I should have been happy that he hadn’t sent me out. This is what Jax had wanted. This was what I was supposed to be doing. But I couldn’t be happy about it because the jackass hadn’t given me enough of a look over to even KNOW whether he wanted me to stay or not. I made it through 7 songs before frustration got the better of me.

My bra lay on the stage with the rest of my clothes and I found myself hopping off and all but stomping to this man without realizing it. ‘get your ass back up there and keep your mouth shut’ I could hear Jax all but screaming in my mind.

“Am I boring you?” Too late. My head-space Jax fainted as the man finally looked up at me, dark eyes blankly assessing.

The only part of me not naked was the thin line of a lace thong, the rest of me was bared a mere foot from him. I’d been naked in front of plenty of men but for some reason the fact he’d all but ignored me up until now made my nakedness new all over. My breasts reacted sharply to this arousal, nipples perking up, and he must have noticed because immediately his lips parted in a proud smirk.

“Yes.” Was all he offered, staring at me for a moment, then looking back to the screen in his hand.

I stared at him, disbelief that made me impulsive and frankly frustrated. And a little wet.

“Then what can I do to make you NOT bored?” I asked, trying to keep my tone level. He laughed.

“Ha. Doll face…does a chef at a michellin star restaurant ask his customer what he can do to make the food not boring?” He still didn’t look at me. “No. The customer is paying for a meal that should be divine based on the reputation of the restaurant. Either you’re a chef who knows how to do their job. Or you might want to go back to waitressing.”

That was it. He never once looked back up. But he also hadn’t dismissed me. ‘Go back to the stage, give him this dumbass meal he’s paid for and leave it be.’ Inner Jax had come to enough to start ordering me again. But I was too heated by now. This customer had been dismissive of everyone on staff, dismissive of ME, and now basically insinuated I needed a different job since I was incompetent in mine. Or so I heard.

I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how it happened, but one moment I was standing in front of him demanding to know if I was boring and the next I had straddled myself over his leg. I began grinding my clit against him with the beat of the song and took his free hand to hold my breast. He didn’t bat an eye which only made me grind harder. Desperate now for him to show he noticed at all. But he didn’t.

I kept pressing my clit against him, grinding harder on his leg as a wet spot began to grow on his jeans. The roughness of the fabric only teased my thighs farther and I knew I was dripping. I wanted him to pinch my nipples, slide a finger into my wetness, anything to show he noticed the ache that had grown. But he didn’t. My breathing got deeper the longer I used his thigh to tease myself, the hand resting on my breast did nothing to alleviate my desires and I could feel the pleasure building within me.

“Do not cum.”

He hadn’t looked at me, but he’d finally spoken again. Only this time it was to deny the very thing I wanted so desperately. And like hell I was going to listen to the jackass who hadn’t paid a single bit of attention to me all evening. AND had called me boring.

I came. Hard. Wetness spilling out of me and soaking onto his jeans. A delicious intensity of pleasure that rocked my core and released the tension his rude words had given me.

“Now look what you’ve done…I hope you’re ready to pay for that.”

His tone was teasing, full of wicked promise, and I realized he was no longer staring at the phone. I also realized I’d missed something crucial during my intensely pleasure-filled orgasm.

There was a bulge between his legs, straining to break the jeans away…and his free hand had slid up to my throat.

[emiken-070907]

A Different Kind Of Story - Some Tea And Chess

Now that everyone had gathered in the Ramshackle dorm and have met the unexpected guest, Yuko, she decided that it would be time to fulfil her promise; Showing her world to the others.

A Different Kind of Story: Chapter 2

The mirror started to glow again, the figure of the female disappeared. Instead of Yuko, the Main Street of NRC with the statues of the Great Seven. Along the path walked Yuko with a gremlin following her.

"Yukoooo~ It's Saturday! Why do we have to go Heartslabyul~? " The cat-like monster asked, mostly complained, in an annoyed voice while climbing on the girl's shoulder. "Oh, come now, Grim, cheer up! Rosehearts-senpai was kind enough to prepare a little tea party for us. Only our friends from Heartslabyul and us," they explained to the creature on her shoulder.

An unmotivated 'Nyaaa~' was the only answer she got, though.

They both stepped through the mirror leading to Heartslabyul and headed straight towards the dorm.

"Hello? Why is nobody here?" The Prefect of Ramshackle said out loud as she entered the building. She looked around the twisted floors but saw no one. Abruptly, a giggle echoed through the deformed floor. They quickly looked around, seeing nothing again. In the next moment, she felt two hands on her shoulders and could hear the giggles right next to their ear.

"YOU ACTUALLY CAME!"

Yuko and Grim both froze in place. The one who surprised them had her hair in a high, messy ponytail and had cherry red eyes with a red heart painted on her left.

It took a moment for the Ramshackle students to gain their composure again. Yuko then laughed a bit at her friends 'joke'. "Of course, Ace. First of all, I wanted to come. Second, I don't want my head taken." Yuko joked. The other one, on the other hand, answered completely serious. "Yuko-chi, you know god damn well this could've happened. By the way, don't you mean 'Our'? We aaaaalllll would've lost our heads!" The student gestured dramatically. Yuko just shook her head with a sigh, which got her a happy laugh from their friend.

"No, I mea-"

"I hate to admit it, yet Ace is right, you know?"

A second girl with long, navy hair and a spade on her right eye suddenly appeared behind the Ramshackle dorm leader. Yuko and Grim scream in fear, the scream echoing through the halls of Heartslabyul. Why does everyone here scare them or popped out of nowhere? "Deuce, you dumbass, don't scare us like that!" Grim fussed.

-

Together, the four of them walked to the dorm lounge.

As they open the door that leads to the lounge, welcoming came from two students. One had leaf green eyes, orange, long hair -with the top portion tied back into a ponytail while the rest hung straight- and a diamond painted under her right eye. The second one had golden eyes, with her green hair was in a side braid, with a clover painted onto her left cheek. It was pretty easy to tell that they were Trey and Cater.

"Yuko-chan! Grim-chan! Rosehearts-san already awaits you two!" The orange-haired schoolgirl cheerfully said and walked over to the first-years while taking her cellphone out. "Say Cheese~," She said and took a selfie with her underclassmen. "Greetings to you too, Cate-senpai. Also to you, Trey-senpai."

A fifth figure joined the talking girls.

A small girl.

She had long, wine red pigtails, those formed two open flowers, along two strands of hair making a heart on top of her head and slate-grey eyes. Her big gown made her look even more petit.---

She looked adorable.

-

The girls have moved to the dorm lounge to have tea. But the odd thing was they were upside down.

Meaning the table, everything on the table, and the girls themselves were on the ceiling, without falling. As if physics didn't exist.

-

It was so unexpected that Vil even cut in.

"How is this possible? Even the tea doesn't fall!"

Yuko, unfazed, answered the Pomifiore leader in mere seconds.

"Oh, trust me, I would like to know myself. So I can't really explain it to you. I apologize."

"Yuko-san, not to be rude or anything, but you do know the laws of physics and many more things should prevent occasions like this from happening, right?" Azul tried to explain.

The girl knew that Azul didn't mean it in a mean way. Everyone would question what they were saying.

"Fufufu, of course, I do. When I first saw this, I thought I was mad! It turned out they were the mad ones. But this is a topic for a later time. Let's get back on track," Yuko waved the conversation off. A few complaints came with this decision.

-

By the time Yuko managed to convince them that they'll find out what she means, later on, the girls themselves finished their tea. "Thank you very much for the invitation, Rosehearts-san. But Grim and I have to go now. I have promised, Kingscholar-senpai a round of chess yesterday."

"It's quite alright Yuko-san, I hope you'll have a pleasant day", the dorm leader of Heartslabyul dismissed the two visitors. Grim and Yuko said their goodbyes to the others and left off to Savannaclaw.

-

On the way to the second dorm, the boys met another friend of Yuko, Jackie. The beastman (woman?) Already awaited her at the mirror leading to the Savannaclaw dormitory. She looked pretty much exactly like Jack. The only significant change was that her hair was in a low ponytail. The wolf-girl accompanied the two visitors on their way to the dorm leader in an appreciated silence.

-

Currently, Yuko was in the middle of a chess match against her senior.

Grim laid asleep beside Yuko on the enormous bed of her upperclassman, not caring a bit about the chess game.

And in all honesty, they were only waiting until their opponent fell asleep as well, who already was halfway there.

"C'mon, Leona~ Don't fall asleep yet. You don't want to lose against a magicless first-year, don't cha?" As a response, Leona just grumbled something inaudible and flicked her tail.

The Prefect didn't take the magicless part too hard. They knew Ruggie only said that to rail Leona up.

Yuko silently smiled at themselves at the thought.

"You're head is up in the clouds again, herbivore." She quickly snapped back into reality and placed her figure.

"What the hell are you doing? Did you hit your head or what?"

"What do you mean, Kingscholar-senpai?"

Irritated, the lion motioned towards to playboard.

"This. You play like shit today. You're just lucky that you've always realized when I was able to defend you and stopped me." The only thing the third year got was a laugh.

"You may see it like that, I admit. Still, sometimes you have to take a step back and look at the whole picture in front of you."

Leona said nothing at this and decided to drop the conversation at that.

"Ugh, it pains me sometimes to know that you just leave stuff like that on the ground without fearing that somebody steals it!"

Both turned around to Ruggie holding an emerald bracelet. It was absolutely gorgeous. And expensive.

"Why should I? Nobody dares to enter my chambers, and if I'd find out that you've been stealing from me, I would force you to pay me all of that stuff, and you'd have to find a new job."

Ruggie just rolled her eyes.

"First of; That is the sad part: That you can threaten me by firing me and not pay me. Second; As of you'd care so much. I bet you wouldn't even notice if one of your accessories would disappear. You'd solely buy a new one. Enough money for you to do that is providing."

The two continued to argue as if Yuko wasn't even there.

She also didn't even try to do something against it since they knew it would do nothing.

The argument ended by Leona being annoyed and just telling Ruggie of and bringing her attention back to the chess game.

"Wow, I've been arguing and didn't pay complete attention, yet you still suck," the lion said with a smug smile.

"You only look onto the surface of things, don't you? Ignorance isn't a good look on you. Checkmate," Yuko said as she placed her chess piece back onto the board.

Leona's smug smile fell immediately.

"W-what? How?!"

Yuko only smiled while she explained her strategy.

"In conclusion, you've lost your chance at winning after I've made my first move." The second princess eyed them intensely. The Prefect's smile never more falling during the process.

After a minute of staring, the third-year broke the eye contact, rolled on her side and closed her eyes.

"Tch. Don't you herbivores have some other things to do? If yes, leave. Just make sure to put the board aside, and that quietly, got it?"

Yuko gave a recognition hum before moving off the bed, putting the board aside, taking Grim into their hands and making their way towards the door.

"Oh, before I leave." They turn around to their senior to face her. "I find it quite funny that this is one of your ways to handle failure. Just ignoring it. I may respect you, yes, yet you are a sour loser."

After that, she left without another word.

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[A/n: Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my first language!]