#this entertains me in the dull parts of class

[ducksido]

Hi! I wanted to request a fic with Jade. Perhaps one where Yuu/The reader is starting to avoid Jade because their friends(the first years) have doubts about his intentions and whether he is sincere or not, seen as the tweels walking red flags. So Jade's partner wants to kind of break it off with him, because they are getting insecure and think that they're being played with and only seen as 'fun' for a short time which will get dropped later on when he gets bored, and Jade notices. How would he react and would he try to save his relationship and how? (Some other plot is fine too!)

Thanks a lot!

(Lowkey was debating how to go with this request if i wanted it angst or not and ended up with this)

“You're Not Just Amusement to Me”

Jade wasn’t oblivious. Far from it.

He noticed the hesitation in your step before you entered the Mostro Lounge now. The slight turn of your shoulder when he reached to brush his fingers along your back. How your laughter, once genuine, had become thin and polite. How your eyes darted to Ace and Deuce during lunch, searching them for silent confirmation whenever Jade spoke to you.

He didn’t need to ask. Jade could smell doubt. It clung to the edges of your words like brine on seaweed.

He smiled anyway. He always did.

But deep beneath that calm, gloved exterior, something ancient and sharp stirred in the deep currents of his heart.

You didn’t mean to pull away. Not at first.

You had tried to ignore it. Tried to drown out the words the others kept echoing, like waves lapping against the same weak rock:

“You really trust him?” “C’mon, it’s Jade. He’s always messing with people.” “I mean, the guy makes people eat mushrooms for fun.” “Doesn’t it ever feel like… you’re just a passing hobby to him?”

And what scared you most was that a part of you—a tiny, hollow part—started to wonder the same.

Was that all you were? A curiosity? A ‘pet project’ to pass the time?

Because he was beautiful. Mysterious. Clever. And you were just… you. Someone who fell too fast. Felt too much. Who reached out with your whole heart like it wouldn’t be snapped shut in a bear trap.

You couldn’t help but feel like you were the one playing a dangerous game with someone who had never even told you the rules.

So lately, you’d been keeping your distance. Less texts. Less touches. You even skipped your daily visits to the Lounge.

It was only fair to give him space before he dropped you first.

It was a cool evening when Jade cornered you. Outside the greenhouse. Of course it was. That was his sanctuary, his temple of stillness and secrets.

“Ah. Prefect.” His voice was low and quiet. Gentle. Too gentle.

You froze mid-step, hands curled around the straps of your bag. “...Hey.”

Jade tilted his head, eyes gleaming beneath the low moonlight. “I noticed you haven’t been stopping by. I was beginning to think you’d grown tired of me.”

Your stomach twisted.

He always knew what to say. That was the problem.

“I’ve just been… busy,” you said lamely.

“With classes?” he prompted.

“With… thinking,” you admitted. And it just tumbled out, ugly and breathless. “Thinking if this is—if we’re even real. Or if I was just something new to keep you entertained.”

The silence that followed felt too long. Like the sea had stilled.

“I see,” Jade said at last. “So the whispers have finally reached you.”

You blinked. “What—?”

“Ace. Deuce. Jack, Epel… Even Sebek. All fond of you in their own ways, but terribly uncreative. I could tell from the moment they started glaring harder during lunch.”

“…You knew?”

“I’m not blind, Prefect,” he said softly. “Nor am I so dull as to miss the shift in your gaze. I simply hoped you trusted me enough to ignore them.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He stepped forward. Not looming—never looming—but near enough for you to smell that faint foresty tang of earth and old water.

“I won’t lie to you,” he continued. “There was a time when your presence did… amuse me. Your reactions were delightful. So quick to fluster. So stubborn when teased. But it didn’t take long for my curiosity to turn into affection.”

You looked away. “And what happens when that amusement fades?”

He said nothing. Just reached out—slow, careful—and gently touched your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“When I enjoy something,” he said, “I cultivate it. Tend to it. Study it. Care for it so that it thrives. That is my nature. I have no intention of abandoning what I cherish.”

“Even if I’m just… ordinary?”

He smiled. But not the usual sly, calculated one. This one was soft. Honest. And maybe a little sad.

“You are anything but ordinary to me, Yuu.”

You shivered. Maybe from the wind. Maybe from hearing your name in that rare, raw tone of his.

He pulled his hand back. Respectful. Distant, if you wanted it. “But I won’t force you to stay. If you’ve truly decided I’m not worth the risk, then I will let you go. But I will grieve. Quietly, perhaps. But deeply.”

You stared at him, heart thudding like the heavy pulse of a ship’s engine underwater.

“…Do you even get scared?” you asked softly. “That maybe this could fall apart? That I could leave you?”

Jade’s gaze flickered.

“Yes,” he said.

That startled you.

“I do not love easily,” he murmured, “but when I do, it is… consuming. I can picture a hundred ways this could end badly. But I still chose you. And I will choose you again, if you’ll let me.”

A beat of silence.

Then you stepped into him. Slowly. Carefully. Like testing the water again after nearly drowning.

Your hands found the fabric of his uniform jacket. His hands hovered above your back, uncertain, until you nodded—just once—and he held you.

You stayed there a long time. Just breathing.

“…Do you want me to talk to them?” he asked eventually. “The first years?”

You snorted. “What, scare them into silence?”

“I was thinking more… a demonstration of sincerity.” He smiled slyly against your hair. “Maybe I’ll let them see how flustered you make me.”

You chuckled, nudging him. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re still here.”

Bonus (the next day)

Ace: “Hey, Yuu, you good? You’ve been quiet since lunch.”

Yuu: “Jade came over to the Ramshackle garden this morning. With a picnic.”

Deuce: “A picnic??”

Epel: “Aw, that’s kinda cute—wait. Did he give you mushrooms?”

Yuu: “No. He just told me the Latin names of flowers and how each one reminded him of me.”

Jack: “…He’s weird. But… maybe he does like you.”

Sebek: “Hmph. Still don’t trust him.”

Yuu: “I do.”

And that was the end of it.

[elliesngirl]

Assigned to you

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 1.6k (sorry it’s short, I’ll make the next ones longer)

Warnings: None

Part 1: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

—

The school buzzed with its usual chaotic energy—students laughing, lockers slamming, and shoes squeaking against polished floors.

For Ellie Williams, it was sensory overload, a daily reminder of how much she despised high school. She kept her head down as she weaved through the bustling hallway, her headphones perched securely on her head, though no music played.

They weren’t for entertainment; they were for survival, a barrier between her and the world she tried so hard to avoid.

Ellie stopped at her locker, tugging at the handle with her hoodie-covered hands.

Her textbooks were lined up like soldiers, each black cover marked with a tiny sticker: red for maths, blue for physics, green for history.

Ellie loved organization, and she hated bright colors, so this system was her perfect balance. She grabbed the books she needed, carefully closed her locker, and slipped her hands back into her pockets.

Maths, physics, and history made up the start of her day, and while most people would find that lineup miserable,

Ellie didn’t mind. She liked the logic of it, the predictability. There was no guessing, no group work, just numbers, facts, and dates. That didn’t mean she didn’t feel the pressure, though.

An upcoming maths exam loomed over her, and the constant chatter from her classmates made it hard to concentrate.

Ellie clenched her jaw, her pencil tapping rhythmically against the desk as she tried to block out the noise. She had to focus—she couldn’t afford to miss anything if she wanted to get into a good university.

Art was her true escape, though. Later in the day, when she could finally swap equations and historical timelines for her sketchbook, Ellie felt the tension ease from her shoulders.

She loved sketching more than anything else. It was her way of expressing what she couldn’t say, of creating worlds far removed from her own.

Meanwhile, across the school, your day was starting very differently. You strolled into the building a full thirty minutes late, your heels clicking confidently against the tile floor. You were the complete opposite of Ellie—where she avoided attention, you thrived in it. Ellie dressed in dull, baggy clothes, while you dressed in pinks and mini skirts.

Walking next to your best friend, Olivia, you laughed loudly, drawing the stares and whispers of your peers as if you didn’t notice. But you noticed. You always noticed.

“I don’t understand why Jake even tried hitting on you,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I mean, you’re so out of his league it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled, brushing her comment off with a playful shrug. “Oh, don’t be mean. He’s sweet… in his own way.”

“Sweet doesn’t make him your type,” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow.

You just smiled, dodging the conversation as you reached your locker. Unlike Ellie’s, yours was a chaotic mess of papers, pens, and random odds and ends. You grabbed whatever notebook and pen were closest, not bothering to check if they were the right ones for your next class. Organization wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later,” you said, waving Olivia off as you made your way to the gym for PE. You didn’t bother changing; your teacher had long given up trying to get you to participate.

Instead, you sat on the bleachers, scrolling through TikTok, sending snaps, and texting your friends about weekend plans.

The attention didn’t faze you. You were used to the way people’s heads turned at the sound of your heels, the way their conversations paused briefly as you passed by.

Back in maths, Ellie was growing more agitated by the minute. The constant chatter of her classmates made it nearly impossible to focus on the teacher’s explanations.

Her hands clenched into fists under the desk, her mind racing with formulas and deadlines. The bell rang, and Ellie shot out of her seat, meticulously gathering her things and heading straight to her next class.

You walked out of the gym and your head quickly shot to the side quickly when you saw Ellie rushing to get to class, it made you giggle as you shook your head, mumbling “Nerd.”

The two of you had passed each other in the hallway before, maybe even brushed shoulders once or twice, but neither of you had ever really noticed the other.

Your next class went by really quickly, now you have history, you slowly walked to history because you really didn’t feel like showing up, but you knew you had to.

When you walked into the classroom, your eyes went straight to Ellie, she was sitting at the front of the classroom, she was sitting up straight and listening carefully to what the teacher was saying, you rolled your eyes and shoved past her and sat at the back of the room, putting your headphones in and ignoring the teacher.

“For the next 3 months, you will be working on a project with a partner, the two of you will choose an historical event and make a physical poster and a presentation,” The teacher exclaims, the students roll their eyes and already plan who they want to be with.

The teacher interrupted them with something all students hated hearing, “I will be assigning your partners.”

Louder groans were heard, and everyone rolled their eyes as the teacher began to list out names. “Dina and James, Vanessa and Lily, Emma and Olivie, Kai and Mike, Ellie and Y/n.” The teacher announced and everyone started moving to be with their partner.

Ellie slowly walks towards you, and sits next to you, but your head doesn’t move, she coughs to try and get your attention but you still don’t move, so she slowly moves your hand to tap your hand on the shoulder.

You take your airpod out and roll your eyes, when you make eye contact with ellie. “Umm, what?” you ask, Ellie fiddles with her thumb and index finger, looking down shyly, “we are partners for our project..”

You take your other airpod out and put it in the case, not saying anything to Ellie, she sighs saying, “look, I really need a good mark, I can do all the work if you want me to.”

You look at Ellie with an annoyed expression, “You think I can’t do it?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head, scratching the back of her neck, “No! No! That’s not what Ii said!” She exclaims in a panic, making you huff and roll your eyes, “It’s what you meant.”

“No!” Ellie yells, catching the attention of everyone in the classroom, as they stare at her, her cheeks go red from embarrassment and she tries to hide her face with her hoodie. “Chill out, I’m messing with you, but I still want to do the work, my parents would kill me if I get another bad grade.” You say, Ellie’s eyes go wide with excitement.

“Great!” She says loudly, but then gets embarrassed again, “I mean great as in- I’m glad you’d join me! not great as in your parents killing you..” Ellie quickly confirms. You giggle, which makes Ellies cheeks grow more red.

“Anyway, Let me give you my info so we can plan when to do this project.” Ellie nods her head, taking out her notebook and pen to write it down. “Do you have snap?” You ask, Ellie quickly shakes her head.

“Insta.” Ellie nods her head, “What’s your username?” You ask, already having your phone out, ready to put her username in. “Umm..Lemme just type it.” Ellie tries to reach out for your phone but you move your arms away and wait for her to say her username.

Ellie looks down at her hands and quietly says “Ellie_theDino” You look back at her confused, not hearing her, “What?” Ellie sighs, saying it louder so you can hear her “Ellie_theDino..”

You type in the username and it’s the first page that pops up, a private account with 43 followers, a profile picture of sharks and a bio that says all her favourite things. Sharks, Dinosaurs, Spiderman and women

The bell rings and you quickly get up, saying to Ellie quickly “I requested you.” Ellie nods, “I’ll follow you when I get home, and I will message you about the details.” Ellie says and you nod quickly and exit the classroom.

-

Taglist

@vahnilla

[snoringkitty1]

A little Too Handsy..

Leona bein a little touchy feely, no sexy stuff don't worry, just the suggestive kinda :>. Enjoy :D

⟡

You sighed and leaned onto your palm as you thumbed through a thick book in class, nothing could be more boring. But, if Grim was going to be handling all of the magic related parts to this, that meant you needed to handle all of the book smarts..

you were sat beside Vil, whom you frequently studied with. He was smart and straight forward, whenever he wasn't busy trying to convince you to take more of his skin care or teach you a few makeup tips.

He leaned over a little and hummed, "What exactly are you studying for?" he inquired, having lost interest in his own book and instead deciding to take a look at yours to perhaps entertain himself until this study hour ended.

"History of magic and Blot.." you sighed and slumped forward onto your book, Vil leaned onto his palm and snickered as he pat your back. "That's not a terrible book? Though, perhaps it is a tad boring.." he hummed and pointed out a few things that would help you with future tests and assignments.

Behind the two of you..directly behind you, was a lion sleeping with his feet kicked up onto the desk and his arms behind his head, tipping the chair back with his eyes closed. Or, well, he had his eyes closed last you looked back at him.

He had one eye open now, much like any apex predator he was always on alert when something was getting too close to his quarry. His tail lashed, normally his green gaze was dull and tired, uncaring. But it was the opposite when he was focused on you.

They gleamed and narrowed, watching you and Vil keenly, making sure he didn't lean too close and the topic of conversation rarely moved from his talk of skin care, makeup, and fashion. You didn't peg Leona for the jealous type, he seemed self-confident enough to not get like that.

Seems you were in the wrong though.

Eventually the bell rang, you and Vil said bye as thankfully this was the last class you had to deal with today. You were tired and really did not want to walk all the way back to Ramshackle..just to probably deal with Grim's griping.

And this is when your boyfriend swooped in to rescue you from the long walk. Granted..he did it in the most embarrassing way possible.

"Leona! Set me down!" you fussed, nearly dropping your bag full of books as he had slung you over his shoulder like a bag of spoiled potato's. His tail was lashing, a sure sign that something was up, you just had no idea what.

"You bastard, i can walk!" you insisted and listened to him scoff, his tail suddenly smacking into you. You grumbled and just lowered your head in defeat, helpless to stop him, and too shy to continue trying to escape..you were drawing in so many eyes anyways, your face was practically a tomato at this point.

You two stepped through the mirror into Savannah Claw, no one here would question Leona, they would probably feel bad for you, worried about what fate you might suffer once he drags you behind the closed doors of his room.

You two passed Ruggie, the hyena snickering at you as you looked at him and flipped him off, "Go fuck yourself." you grumbled, it only made him laugh harder though. Then you passed Jack, the poor man simply stared on in confusion, scratching the back of his head before pretending he didn't see anything.

Then finally the two of you reached his room, he opened the door and closed it with his heel. You tossed your bag off to the side and prepared to be set down on the floor so you could yell at him, however, that did not happen.

Instead, he randomly pressed you up against the nearest wall he could. Those emerald eyes narrowed before he smiled, seeing your baffled expression and pink cheeks. "You like talkin' to Vil a lot, herbivore." he hummed, pressing his hips to yours, pinning you against the wall in a way that you couldn't even touch the ground.

His hands tangled with yours, squeezing tightly as he pressed your hands against the wall as well. You could barely muster to words to retort, he was domineering and barely left room for you to speak as his lips lingered just an inch from yours, and that was if you were lucky.

"Hmm?" he hummed and tilted his head, his ear flicking before he leaning in for a kiss. You wiggled your hands around in his and stared at him nervously, making him pause in his advancements, your legs wrapped around his waist. "Could..we move this to bed?" you requested sheepishly, shrinking away from him.

He stared at you for a moment before smiling, kissing you gently before he let go, moving them down to hold your thighs as he carried you over to his obnoxiously big bed. He carelessly tossed you, but didn't join you immediately, too busy getting his uniform vest and shirt off.

Then, joined you, pretty much putting you in the same position he did when he held you against the wall, but this time it was far more comfortable for you. "Much better.." you smiled up at him, gasping as he engulfed your lips in a hungry kiss.

It was needy, it was vicious in it's own right, desperate and dominant. "L-Leo-" you tried to speak whenever he needed a pause to breath, as if the air from your lungs wasn't enough to satiate him. But he barely let you get a word in, grumbling against your lips as he held your hips like life support.

You reached around his waist, running your hand up his spine, tracing his muscles until you reached his hair, combing your hand through the messy dark brown locks. Right up until you reached the prize, rubbing his ears, doing so made him groan quietly against your lips.

It allowed you a moment of power, grinning to yourself. You pinched the base of his ear, it seemed to make him shiver in delight, needing to pause the kiss for a moment to let out a shaky breath before hastily resuming as if someone else was going to beat him to it.

The hand that held your hip slowly moved, his fingers creeping up your side and under your shirt before stopping when you grabbed his wrist. That was an instant red flag, so he leaned back, leaving you both panting.

You stared at the ceiling and smiled, "By the seven..damn." you muttered and looked at him as he leaned back, still straddling you, bare chest heaving a bit as he panted. Soon, a lopsided smile painted his face, leaning down again just to lay his head down on your chest

"Didn't mean to take it that far." he hummed and closed his eyes, listening to your heartbeat and yawning. You smiled and set one hand on his upper back while the other combed through his hair. "Well..i think we're both too tired to be doing any of that.." you mumbled and kissed the top of his head.

He hummed, rolling off of your chest just to pull you onto his, making you smile a little too much as you drank in the familiar scent of your lazy lion. Breathing deeply as you relaxed, his chest a relatively comfortable pillow. He had one arm behind his head, the other rubbing your back or messing with the tips of your hair.

"Grim's going to get upset when i don't show.." you muttered and Leona rolled his eyes, "that pipsqueak can wait." he huffed and kissed the top of your head with a lopsided smile. "If he has a problem, he can direct it at me..we'll see what he does then." he hummed.

He had a lopsided grin on his face, pleased at the thought of grim being helpless against him. You laughed and shook your head, "You're so mean to him." you hummed and kissed his collarbone before looking up at him with a tired smile.

"He might just storm in here, don't want to put a shirt on?" you chuckled and tilted your head as he scoffed before his tired smile became a smirk. "I'm in my bed, In my room, with my girlfriend, anyone who comes in can suffer what they see." he stated confidently.

You shook your head and sighed, "Says the guy that was jealous i was studying with someone else." you remarked and smirked as he looked at you like you had said something offensive about his mother. His ears lowered and he looked off to the side with a stubborn scowl, his tail lashing again, like the thought alone pissed him off.

"Come on Leona, i wouldn't love anyone more then i love you, cheer up." you stated and he sighed, "I keep lettin' my thoughts get to me." he huffed and looked back at you, holding your face and smiling "Knowing i'm the only one who can get a taste of you is enough." he hummed, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You stared at him before rolling your eyes, "Shut up." you grumbled and laid your head on his chest again, his chuckles echoing in your ears as you closed your ears and simply listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

"I love you Leona." you muttered softly, his hand moving up to comb through your hair to aid you in falling asleep. "I love ya too, Herbivore." he hummed and closed his eyes as well, his fingers subconsciously playing with your hair until he fell asleep.

⟡

Thanks for reading.

[escapismbook]

ESCAPISM CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Chapter Fifteen | Damn, Those Eyes

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AUs/Genre(s): dark romance, smut, mature, mafia

→ Trope(s): professor-student, forbidden romance, dark, sin-evil, passion, slow-burn, seductive, mafia

→ Rating: this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.

→ Word count: 4.1k

→ Author’s note: Escapism is a dark romance—intense, poetic, and deeply atmospheric. It explores desire, deception, and the pull of the forbidden. This story contains mature themes, including:   

This story is also written by two authors. Both working on the two couple. Please read with caution. For those who stay, welcome to a world where love and darkness intertwine.

Dedication: Reaches out to cup your cheek, "now be a good girl for me."

(Don't forget to like and comment.)

Small note: when you see this font it means they are speaking Korean.

The lights in the assembly hall were warm, not enough to darken the grandeur of the space but just enough to turn murmurs into whispers. Students flooded the wide rows in a slow wave, their shoes clicking softly against polished floors, voices low with curiosity and buzzing. They had all recived an email a few days ago that there was to be a guest speaker at the university, over the mystery of the guest speaker. The stage ahead was prepered for the guest. Rows upon rows of students filed in until the hall was nearly packed. 

Aalia slipped in with Sol Jin and two other classmates, laughing quietly at something one of them said, though her smile was short-lived when they had to split up. There were no seats left together. She offered a quiet wave and weaved through the second row before settling into the third, center-left. 

He took a seat right behind her, unnoticed. A week had gone by since that night. A week since she wept silently in his arms, and the passing days had felt heavy on his chest. He he had called her multiple time, but she would declide them everytime. The only time she did respond was when it was a text. This entier week they didn’t have any classes togther. The only moment they crossed paths was during the morning registration in his lecture hall, where her name was quietly ticked off on the attendance but no other words were exchanged in person. Only through text. 

His eyes roamed over her figure. Her hair was down today, soft waves falling down her back. The scent of her shampoo hit him like incense at the altar, grapefruit mixed with something sweet. And then he smelt something else too, her signiuter perfum, Hypnoitc Poison. 

He didn’t make himself known to her yet. He wanted to wait a little while.

The murmur of the assembly dulled into a hush as the heavy doors at the far end parted. Two men entered. The first was the dean, well-dressed and older. He walked up on the podeum and the second man followed after him. 

Mr. Min Hyun walked with the calm authority of a man who had never once needed to raise his voice to command power. He wore a dark grey tailored suit, with a deep jade tie that matched the glint of his cufflinks. His dark and grey hair was slicked back with a precision that suggested ritual. And like his son Yoongi, Mr. Min moved like silence itself.

Aalia’s gaze followed him, her lashes twitching slightly in recognition. She was familier with the man, and not only from a week ago. Her eyes were locked on the doors from where the two men had emerged from expecting another Min, the one who’s calls she did not answer to show up as well, but the doors closed. 

And the introduction began as the dean introduced Mr. Min to the assembely. It felt like a talk-show more than a speech, and that was far more entertaining. A few jokes here and there that made everyone in the room laugh. They moved smoothly through topics, a few students had the oportunaty to ask qustions themselves as well.

“How does one create a legacy?” a student asked.

 “There is a saying in our family,” Min Hyun began, voice deep and regal, yet conversational. “A man who cannot build with his hands should not carry his name.” A few students shifted in their seats. Some nodded, others just stared. “My father, Sihyuk began with nothing but his name. He turned soil into concrete, and concrete into legacy.”

The screen behind him flickered to life. Sepia-toned images of old construction sites, black-and-white blueprints, and dignified men in suits filled the space. “Min Construction began with blood, sweat, and tears, and we did not complain. When obstacles came we handled them.”

Aalia tilted her head slightly and flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she listened. But then, she felt something. She froze and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Her almond-shaped eyes widened and all Yoongi could do was look at her with a small smirking-smile.

She turned her attention back to the front, yet he did not relese the ends of her long hair. He twirled a strand around his fingers. He was touching some part of her for the first time in a week. It felt like he could finally breathe. And he was not a religious man, but he prayed she would not pull away.

He leaned slightly forward. “I hope you’re paying attention, darling?” his voice made her feel like she was on a rollercoster. He gave the strand of hair wrapped around his finger a slight and gentle tug, and Aalia nodded once. The corner of his mouth pushed upwards, a sense of satisfation washed over him as he let the strand of hair unravel from is finger and he sat back.

“In the business world, loyalty is currency. Betrayal is debt. And when debts are unpaid,” Min Hyun’s voice thinned into a smile. “You must know how to collect.”

Students nodded, intrigued and some inspired by what the man had said, But Aalia recognized the code in his words. Just like her grandfather spoke. People like this never said things outright. They wrapped threats in silk.

The dean’s voice carried once more, “And now, let’s welcome someone whom you are all much more familiar with,” he smiled. “Professor Min Yoongi.”

Cheers and applause ripped through the air. Aalia didn’t have to turn around, she could feel him stand up from behind her. Her eyes followed him as he approched the podium and sat down in the leather arm chair.

The applause waned to a reverent murmur. He adjusted his jacket with a graceful precision, fingers brushing once down the lapel of his three-piece suit—tailored charcoal, silk-lined. The glint of a slender platinum cufflink flashed like a communion relic beneath the sleeves. His tie, black and not a strand of his ink dark hair was out of place. The room stilled. Rows of students stared up with expressions suspended between awe and anticipation. Yet, his gaze was elsewhere. On her.

And Aalia did not turn away. She sat straight, hands clasped in her lap, her heart drawing tight behind the cage of her ribs. This was the first time she had seen him speak publicly. He was too composed, but it wasn’t just his gaze that made her pulse flicker—it was the silence between them. For a week Yoongi had held himself back like a man in penance, each unanswered call another nail driven deeper into some invisible crucifix. He had touched her only once today, a strand of hair caught between his fingers like a rosary. In the way she froze and nodded but didn’t pull away.

The dean turned toward Yoongi with the easy familiarity of a man who had once taught the boy and now feared the man. “Professor Min,” he began, his voice light but laced with respect. “The students are excited to hear from you not just as an educator, but as someone who is in both worlds: academia and enterprise.”

Min Yoongi tilted his head with a slow, deliberate grace, his expression unreadable yet composed. “I walk where I need to,” he said, and a murmur of soft laughs and chuckles swam through the assembly hall. 

“Your grandfather is almost never seen in public outings,” the dean said. “Is he passing the title of chairman down to anyone soon? Perhaps, yourself?”

Yoongi smiled at this. He didn’t want to be chairman; he was leaving that for his brother and father to discuss. His ambitions laid elsewhere, in the dark underbelly of the glory that Korea had become. His grandfather was going to gift him with that seat instead. “I don’t see myself as chairman,” he said. “That is something I don’t even consider worth discussing.”

After a while of chatter between the two men continued, and it was finally time for the students to ask their questions. Dozens of hands rose from the crowd for the fourth time, and a student was handed a microphone so he could ask his question. “Professor,” he asked, “What’s your take on calculated risk? How do you gamble and win without relying on luck?”

Yoongi didn’t answer right away. The question lingered in the air like the scent of fine cigar smoke—heady, expensive, a little dangerous. He leaned forward ever so slightly, resting one forearm across his thigh, letting the mic hover near his mouth but not quite speak into it yet. Aalia could feel the shift in the assembly dull into reverence again, students leaning forward instinctively. 

“Gambling is for men who wish to lose,” he said, the edge of his mouth tilting, but never fully smiling. “Calculated risk has nothing to do with luck, and everything to do with leverage. When I take a step forward, it’s not because the odds are in my favor—it’s because I’ve already measured every possible outcome.” The room held its breath. “Recklessness is romanticized far too often,” he continued, “but it’s simply foolishness in a better suit. If you wish to win, stop thinking like a roulette table. That wheel has no memory.” he paused, and his brushed over the students, finding her again.

Their silence had screamed louder than bombs – louder than anything they could have said this past week. And yet, here he was—speaking to her in front of hundreds, without saying her name. 

“A king must think like a chessboard. Every move you make should sacrifice nothing you’re not already willing to lose.” 

Aalia inhaled slowly, but her hands remained still in her lap. She didn’t blink. She couldn’t. His words made her want to dissolve. Every sentence was deliberate. She could still the lingering tug when he pulled at the ends of her hair. And he could feel the single strand of hair between his fingers still. It felt like communion. Don’t pull away, he had thought. Please, don’t pull away. And she hadn’t.

Yoongi straightened and continued. “You study your enemies before they even know you exist,” Yoongi said softly. “You don’t take the shot unless you’ve already sealed every exit. And when you win—” his voice lowered infinitesimally, but it struck deeper, “—you make it look effortless. That’s not gambling. That’s control.”

Laughter echoed softly around the room, but Aalia wasn’t laughing. Her lashes lowered as something inside her twisted—a guilt she hadn’t earned yet but could already feel. It sat in her stomach like a cold stone, its weight familiar. She knew the game just like he did. She had been born into it as well. Her grandfather had said something similar once:

 Power belongs to those who never show how badly they want it. 

And she was sitting in front of the only man who had ever made her want anything more than that power, the power to do as she wished.

The assembly began to dissolve. Chairs scraped softly against marble, murmurs fluttered back to life, and students began filing out in staggered groups. Aalia remained seated for a moment longer, her hands still folded neatly in her lap. Around her, laughter sparked, footsteps scattered, but inside her chest—only silence.

Sol Jin sat down in the row behiend her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “We’re grabbing coffee,” she smiled. “You coming?”

Aalia turned to her and saw the rest of their friend group stading. She managed a soft smile. “You go ahead,” she lied. “I have to go to the library and then I have go home and pack.”

“Right,” Sol Jin facepalmed herself. “You’re leaving for a few days. Okay, have a safe trip.” They reached over and hugged before Sol Jin and the rest of the gang left.

Aalia stood, her legs feeling foreign beneath her. She moved toward the exit with the others, but turned at the corner down to a corridor she had avoided all week. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass windows of the university corridor, casting long shadows across the marble floors and Aalia stood at the door of Yoongi’s office, her fingers lingering on the cool metal handle. The sounds of students murmuring in the hall outside seemed distant now, muted by the overwhelming stillness in the space before her. The gentle hum of air conditioning was the only noise, the quiet that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the hesitant beat of her heart.

She had thought about this moment all week. Every time she locked eyes with him, every text, every short reply from him that barely managed to scrape the surface of what they were both feeling, it all led to this. Aalia knew she was suppoused to be nervous. Her pulse should be quickening, her breath uneven, her body alive with anticipation, but it wasn’t. It was too calm. Almost unnervingly so.

She had processed everything, and come to terms with her emotions. She had made the decision: she would speak to him. She shook her head, forcing herself to twist the handle and step inside.

Yoongi stood by his desk as he read a paper silently. He didn’t look up immediately, choosing instead to remain absorbed in his reading, pretending not to notice her for a moment, before he sat the paper down on his desk and finally looked at her. He leaned against the edge of his desk, waiting for her to speak. He was letting her set the pace, just as he had done that night. He would wait, his quiet control the constant undercurrent, and it was up to her to decide whether to embrace it or pull away.

Her eyes moved to the corner of the room where a faint gold of sunlight streamed across the floor, casting a long, thin line of light that almost seemed like a path. A path she would walk, but only if she chose to. Her mind was made up now. She wasn’t going to turn away.

Aalia took a slow breath, her steps deliberate as she moved further into the room, her shoes tapped softly against the floor. “Hi,” she gave him a small and quick smile.

Yoongi’s features softened. He couldn’t help but find the way she spoke and smiled enduring. He couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth to curve upwards ever so slighty even if he wanted to. “Hey,” his tone was soft and gentle. He could see the nervousness in her expresson, the way her rich chocolet brown eyes darted around the room.

“So…” she dragged out, trying to appear casual and nonchalant. “How you doin’?”

A soft chuckle left his lips, but he played along. “I’m doing fine,” he replied, his eyes locked on her as if he was looking at Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus painting. “And you? How have you been?”

“Good,” she replied quickly. Another fleeting smile. “Hey, um… nice speech by the way.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled. He didn’t press her to talk even though he knew she had something to say, or else she would not have come. So, he continued to keep up his casual, play-along compouser. 

He watched as she nodded, her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her shoes. She looked adorble. She still had that innocence in her, and it made him laugh. “Aalia,” he said her name.

“Hmmm?” her lips curled inwards as she looked at him. 

“You didn’t come here just to make small talk, did you?” he asked softly, but it landed like thunder in her ears. But her heart was not racing; it beat in slow, steady rhythm and that unnerved her more than if it had been thundering. Peace was not what she expected to find in his presence, yet it sat in her chest like a holy thing, terrifying in its gentleness.

Yoongi watched her with quiet amusement, his arms now loosely crossed, the fabric of his blazer folding effortlessly over his lean frame. There was something in the way he looked at her—a mixture of patience and delight, as though she were a rare bloom opening in real time, and he had all the hours in the world to watch it unfold. There was no rush in him, no weight to his presence beyond what she allowed. 

“Since that – I mean, since last -” she paused, eyes flickering briefly to the window before returning to him. “What I wanted to say is…” the words tangled in her throat like thread caught on thorns.

And still, he did not inturrupt. Yoongi tilted his head, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth playfully as he waited patiently. “Could you not look at me when I say this, please?” she asked.

A soft chuckle escaped him. He let it hang in the air between them for a moment before shifting his gaze from her entirely, turning instead to look out of the window. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky with strokes of amber and gold that bled into one another like a scene from an old oil painting. Aalia’s eyes followed the slight movement, but the attention wasn’t on the view—it was on the stillness he brought with his silence, his willingness to follow her request.

Her words felt heavy on her tongue as she stepped forward. “Did you mean what you said?” 

Yoongi’s eyes, still trained on the distant horizon, narrowed slightly as his mind slid back to the words she was referring to. He knew exactly what she meant. The confession, the vulnerability, the danger in it—it was something they both had lived with for days now, hiding behind fleeting moments and unsaid words left hanging in the air. 

The faintest tug of a smile played at the corners of his lips. He let the quiet stretch for a moment, allowing the stillness to speak louder than anything else. His voice was calm and deliberate when it finally broke the silence. “Yes,” he said.  “I meant every word.” The weight of his words settled over her, and for the briefest of moments, Aalia found herself frozen.

She swallowed, but it didn’t ease the dryness that spread like fire through her veins. “Look that way,” she said, gesturing to the window again with a slight tilt of her head. “Please.” Yoongi, ever the obedient tormentor, did as she asked without hesitation. His eyes drifted back to the window, where the last rays of sunlight fought to stay above the horizon. 

She took in a deep breath and sighed. “I have not been as responsive throughout the week,” she began. “because I was processing what happened.” She paused. “And if we are going to do this, we need to set some rules.”

Yoongi had never been this serious about anyone. His expression softened again, but now with an air of finality, as if the weight of his decision had settled into his bones. "Alright," his voice was soft and gentle. “What rules would you like to set?”

“One,” her voice was clear, but not unkind. “you cannot treat me differently from other students. You grade me properly, and you don’t pick on me for your own amusemnt.”

There was a pause—brief, but thick with unspoken history. Yoongi’s head tilted slightly, his lips parting into a smile that was both understanding and indulgent. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he let her words settle into the quiet. He nodded, slow and composed. “Okay,” he said softly, the syllables cloaked in velvet. “I can do that.” But then something flickered behind the warmth in his gaze, and the corners of his mouth lifted with dangerous charm. “But,” he leaned closer to her. “I can’t promise I won’t pick on you every now and then.”

His voice held that signature rasp, tinged with quiet arrogance and affection, like the way someone might speak to a kitten pawing at forbidden territory. He wasn’t teasing to provoke her. He was teasing because he could—because he wanted to taste the boundaries she was carefully drawing and lean over the edge of them with grace. 

“Two,” she continued, her tone lighter now, more grounded. “You cannot keep me behind during breaks.”

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, and this time, his silence was measured. He lowered himself back onto the edge of his desk with quiet elegance. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered the implications of being near her during school hours—it was that he had, in every possible form. The challenge wasn’t temptation. It was restraint. “Alright,” he nodded.

“And three,” she said, “no keeping me behind after school.” Aalia’s eyes wondered, as if she was searching for something before she spoke again. “That’s all for now.”

Yoongi raised his brows with the kind of theatrical sigh that made the corners of Aalia’s mouth curl despite herself. “No keeping you after class, no breaks, no late afternoons,” he muttered dramatically. “Should I stop breathing around you too, just to be safe?” His tone was dry, almost offended, and he feigned exasperation so delicately it bordered on art. He even tossed a languid glance toward the ceiling as though God Himself could intervene on his behalf.

Aalia laughed and the sound brought him back to when he first heard her laughing in Kitty Gang two months ago. This was the first time Aakia had ever seen Yoongi like this—sassy, borderline playful. The stoic, unflinching man shattered in her mind, and it was like she was seeing the real him.

He chuckled too, and his sassy-playfulness slowly faded. Yoongi’s smile tranitioned into something more thoughtful. His posture straightened, and the tone of the room shifted with him. The atmosphere drew back into something quieter, something solemn and mature. “But,” he said, voice low and composed, “I have a few rules of my own.”

There was no sass now, only gravity. The way he looked at her held weight. Not the kind meant to control or manipulate, but the kind that asked for accountability. His tone, though still gentle, had shifted—less playful, more grounded. He didn’t even bother voicing the rule that there would be no other men. He didn’t have to. She wasn’t someone who needed rules to stay faithful—he knew that.

He knew that Aalia Vito Hong did not go to parties on weekends or spend her nights with strangers in dimly lit rooms. He knew she didn’t smoke. That she liked jasmine tea over coffee. That she read the news every morning because her father and grandfather did so as well, and she still lived at home—because even though she was old enough to live alone, she had been raised with a sense of loyalty, tradition, and control. Her life was neat. Respectable. Disciplined. She was the kind of girl who left her shoes at the door and greeted her friends and family with a kiss on the cheek.

And he had been the first man to ever kiss her with the kind of intensity that left her breathless and trembling. He had felt it in the way she clung to his shirt in that dimly lit room of Kitty Gang, in the way she trebbled beneath him.

“Here are my rules,” he began, his voice lower now, smoother. “I don’t want secrets between us. Not just the obvious ones. I mean the real ones. The quiet thoughts that keep you up at night. I want you to tell me what you're feeling. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.”

He paused, watching her reaction, and his expression softened further. “I want you to trust me,” he continued. “And I want to trust you. Not just with the easy things—but with the things that scare us.” 

A beat passed before he added, with a faint, almost boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And…” he glanced at the window for just a moment, then back at her, “I want to drive you home after school every day.” The words shouldn’t have hit her so hard. But they did. He wasn’t asking to meet her at midnight or steal her away in shadows. He wanted the daylight hours. The ordinary moments. The world between lectures and home. He wanted her in the space where real life happened.

She looked into his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Okay,” she said truly. “Fair enough.”

Yoongo ran his fingers gently down the side of Aalia’s face, his touch tender and gentle as he cupped her face in between his hands. He lean down and place a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin for a moment before he pulled back and wrap his arms around her in a hug.

(Please leave a comment and like. Follow for more updates, or read on A03)

[writersblockedx]

Bookshops and Baking

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Forced onto a muggle trip with his family, Fred finds entertainment in your bookshop. He can’t help but thinking that maybe he likes you more than most muggles.  Warnings - Fred not undertstanding basic text speech, Mentions of alchol Words - 2.2k

A/n - Possible part two ??

Masterlist

Fred was never fond of the muggle world. It was all waiting. Waiting for them to turn on a light switch rather than casting the words of 'Lumos'. He thought they lived in apathy without the ability to create pranks and joke boxes. To him, most of them went to an office and came back and that was their day. They went through education, settled down with the most practical partner, had kids they were learning to hate and then got buried in the ground. It was ever so simple yet ever so dull.

It wasn't until his dad dragged him out on a muggle trip, that he met you, and his opinion started to change.

Mr Weasley had taken all the kids on a trip to a city in the North of the Country. The weather could only be described as damp and when it started raining, Fred split from the group. He hadn't paid much attention to the building he entered, all he cared for was that it had a ceiling that would protect him from the rain. Wasn't as if he could cast a spell to protect him; strictly no magic in front of muggles and strictly, by his dad's rules, no magic on muggle trips. He liked to think his kids got the full muggle experience.

Fred opened the shop door, a ping sounded from above his head. At first, he was met with books. Many of them. Shelves of them. A library, he presumed. He barely visited them at Hogwarts, never mind a muggle library where you had to search for the very book you wanted rather than call it into your hands. But it was dry and that's all he cared for.

"Hi!" A voice called. He turned, facing the till where you were standing, a customer service smile slapped onto your lips. "Welcome," You grasped a tray from the side of you and offered it to Fred. "Take a brownie, browse, enjoy the plenty of books." Your smile never faulted.

Fred gazed at the baked goods on the tray. Traditional, non-magic, brownies. No love potion mixed into them, or fake-sickness to get you out of class. It was just a brownie. Fred took one, "Thank you." He took his first bite and could have sworn something so good, so gooey, would have to be magic. "This- This is amazing." He spoke, still with a mouthful of chocolate swirling around his mouth.

You smiled but questioned his enthusiasm, "It's just a brownie." You assured.

You weren't sure about the ginger stranger who had walked into the bookshop, but he certainly intrigued you. "Do you have the erm recipe?" He questioned before taking another gulp of the treat.

"It was just on good foods." You answered him, not hiding the amused smile that wouldn't leave your lips.

"What- What is that?"

He really was a strange man, "A website." You told him. Fred almost cursed himself for not remembering about the muggle's favourite invention of the internet; his dad never shut up about it.

"Oh, right, yeah." He mumbled, taking his final bite.

You stepped around the counter and came to face the redhead. "Here," You said, taking his crum cover hand into your own. You took the lid of a pen and started writing the name of the website and then, with a push of confidence, you started writing your own number. "If you've got any more baking cravings, you can always message me." You stopped writing and looked up at him. His eyes were clung to you, wide-eyed as if you could do no wrong as if he could trust you to hold his heart for a lifetime. "I do more than just brownies."

He nodded slowly before realising he should probably say something, "Right," He suddenly couldn't think straight. Maybe it was the brownie. Maybe he was just confused. He had liked pretty girls before but never had one made him feel like this. So flushed, so nervous to even take a breath. "I don't have a phone." He suddenly realised.

Your head dipped to the side, "Oh." You let out.

"I'll get one." He cut in before you could reject him. "I've been meaning to for a while." Well, his dad had really wanted one of the muggle's phones; they called them apples? So he thought they did.

"Well, when you do, I'll be waiting for the message." Your words caused another grin to fall on his lips. "It's Y/n by the way."

"Fred." He returned.

And like that, the two of you had become acquainted. Possibly he was strange, perhaps a little old-fashioned, or maybe he was the first to use not having a phone as a way to reject someone. Either way, Fred ended up lingering in your mind. Dates came in and out of your life, but you found him, just a boy who liked your brownies, yet he had made you feel more than any other date.

Fred was the same. His mind was infatuated with the idea of you...a muggle. It was odd to him. He had nothing against muggles, of course, but he had never seen himself befriending one - never mind it being possibly flirtatious. But as he left the bookshop (without any actual books) he went to one of the muggle 'Apple' stores. There, he finally picked up a phone and would spend the next night trying to figure it all out and swearing on muggles for making everything so difficult.

Now, the thing was Fred had never sent a text. He had sent letters. So when he was faced with typing, he assumed the two were no different.

To Y/n, I can't stop thinking about them brownies. From, Fred.

He became even more confused when only an hour later he received a message in return:

I'll make them again for you sometime - lmk when you're free.

He stared at the muggle message for a while. When he couldn't figure out what you meant by 'lmk', he resorted to going to his dad. He and the rest of the family were awaiting Molly's dinner, lingering by the table when Fred stormed through. His eyes were on the phone until he met his dad and handed the object over.

"What does this mean?" He demanded to know simply because he was so eager to message the girl back.

Arthur flicked his glasses over his eyes and inspected the message. "Is this your muggle girlfriend?" Yelled George who was setting the table.

Fred flicked his head to his twin brother, telling him to, "Shut up," before turning back to his dad.

"Don't tell me he's back at it with that muggle phone." Ginny commented.

"Back at it?" George laughed. "He hasn't put it down. He won't stop talking to someone called Siri?"

"Is that the girl?" Asked Ron, finally looking up from the piece of bread he had been eating.

Fred looked to his siblings for one last time, "No, it's not the girl." He said with a stern tone woven through his words. He finally looked to his dad, "Do you know what it is?"

He nodded and put the phone on the table, "It's one of the muggle text abbreviations. They get lazy when they text on their electronics." He explained.

"Okay, so what does L.M.K mean?"

Arthur shrugged, "Oh, I've no idea."

Shit, Fred thought, but knew he shouldn't say it. He couldn't understand these text abbreviations but the idea of not responding was torturous. So, he did the next best thing.

Without his dad or his siblings, Fred took it upon himself to visit the muggle world by himself. He travelled through the streets, luckily this time they were dry streets, right until he came across the same bookshop.  He took a breath like this would take a lot out of him. Then, he put his firm palm on the door and pushed. That same bell rang, addressing his entrance to anyone close.

His eyes went straight to the counter which was empty, only occupied by a tray of cookies. The boy wandered further down, slipping into the maze of the bookshelf before, finally, he caught sight of you. Your hands reaching up, pushing books into their respective positions. You hadn't noticed him at first, completely wrapped up in your own world. He walked towards you, a smile plastered on his lips when he breathed and spoke, "Hi."

You finally turned, your expression moulding into a curious one, "Fred?" You almost giggled. "Didn't think I'd see you here after you ghosted me."

His brows narrowed, "I'm sorry?"

Then you did giggle, "Doesn't matter. How can I help you?"

"I was thinking about you and what you said. And you're right, I am old-fashioned. Completely." He started, not daring to tear from your gaze. "Which is why I'm here and it's why I'm offering to take you out...on a date." He pushed out his hopeful smile, watching your eyes carefully as they filled with some emotion he couldn't pinpoint.

"Okay, Mr old-fashioned." You agreed as if you hadn't been thinking about it since you last saw the boy. "My shift finishes in an hour."

Fred didn't move, "Right."

"So I'll meet you at a restaurant afterwards." You planned. "You choose, message me the address."

That was the worse thing you could have done. But, at that moment, Fred agreed. He spent at least half of that hour scouting for a restaurant. One that was quaint enough to be intimate, but one that was also expensive, somewhere you could wear a nice dress to and you could share a bottle of wine. And when he finally found one, he ordered himself the bottle of wine and sat there waiting until you showed up.

You arrived on the dot. Nervous, but trying to hide it well enough, and once your gaze hit his, a smile grazed your lips. He took you in an embrace before the two of you were seated across from one another. Conversation started flowing as soon as you had a lick of wine. You learnt of the wacky Weasley family, from his twin brother to his parents and all the other siblings in between. He owned a business - one of which you had never heard of - but it certainly did impress you. He claimed he hadn't had much time for dating and that running into yourself was just perfect timing.

So, of course, when the brownie dessert you were sharing started coming to an end, and Fred offered a second date, you agreed. And, on that date, you agreed to a third.

For that one, Fred had arranged every single detail. He would greet you in a shirt and tie, a bouquet of flowers waiting in his hands. You would thank him and accept the flowers before taking his hands and entering the theatre. At half-time, you would go in-depth about the meaning behind the play. Before, at the end of the night, as he dropped you off on your front steps, he would finish the night with a kiss.

Everything would go to plan - so Fred hoped anyway.

What happened instead, ruined everything. Fred was waiting outside the venue, doing his once-over for everything. He made sure his shirt was perfectly ironed and that the flowers were-

He suddenly looked down at his palms and realised they were empty. He had left them on the back seat of his car. He almost swore aloud before his wizard instinct stepped in. He retrieved his wand from his blazer pocket, shuffling into the shadows. He picked up some small daisies from the ground that lined the building. From there, he mumbled the words of, "Engorgio" and the small petals tripled in their size until they resembled some proper, store-bought flowers.

It was bad timing. When Fred gazed back up, he wasn't met with shadow, he was met with you, staring at him and the flowers that had just magically grown at his will. How could he explain this? "Y/n," He spoke your name in a breath that he had been holding. "I can explain." No, he couldn't.

You shook your head, already taking some steps back. "I- I can't-" You couldn't get the words out; your mind was too focused on trying to figure out what you had just witnessed.

Before Fred could say much more, you turned your back to him and slipped away. He should have been more worried about the fact a muggle had witnessed magic, that the very being of all witches and wizards had suddenly become endangered. He should have been worried about how much this mistake was going to cost him - if the Mystery of Magic would send him to Azkaban for this? But all that swirled around in the boy's head was whether he could fix the sudden wedge he had put between himself and you.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Act Naturally 3

Summary: It's been a couple of days since Lucy and Cooper married, and the vault doctor is confused when he finds out that they've not consummated it yet.

Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings. None really? Smut with be on the next/final part.

Masterlist

It's been a couple of days since their marriage, and Cooper finds life in the vault... dull, to say the least. There isn't much way of entertainment, and his new job as Althetic Coach was pretty useless, leaving the ex-actor bored most days. Not that Lucy is boring, but the young woman had more duties in the vault than he did, leaving Cooper alone much of the day.

No, Lucy was an amazing, intelligent young woman who Cooper was getting to know little by little. She was raised to be a go-getter, with a can-do attitude, but he could see that there was more to just that. Lucy was kind and thoughtful in a way that few people truly were. Cooper didn't love her, but he could see himself falling for the young vault dweller.

A week passes by, and he's back in their shared home, mindlessly watching a rerun of some old-world cartoon when there is a knock on the door. He pushes himself up and answers the sliding door to find a middle-aged man on the other side with a white lab coat over his vault suit.

"Hello, Mr. Howard. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet. I'm Dr. Gallows," He introduces himself and shakes Cooper's hand when offered.

"Cooper, good to meet you," the ex-actor, "What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The doctor clears his throat and shoots Cooper a small grin, "Well, usually a new bride has already come to see me after the consummation of the marriage, but Lucy has yet to stop by, so I wanted to do a house call to make sure everything was good to go."

Cooper blinks at the doctor, and the casual way he brings up his sex life. Lucy hadn't made a move to try and sleep with him, and Coop had been fine with allowing her to set the pace. What did it matter if they hadn't fucked yet?

"Okay... and?"

The doctor lets out an awkward chuckle, "Well. Part of the Vault mission is to rebuild human society, but we can't do that if we don't have kids, right Mr. Howard? So I'd like for Lucy to come see me in the next couple of days, that should give the two of you please of time."

Cooper wants to protest, to immediately shut this innane bull crap down, but he stops himself. The vaults were a tight nit group, and he doubted that just he would be in trouble if he decided to deck their doctor in the face. Lucy would be part of this, too.

So, instead, the man sighs and grands the doctor a look little more friendly than a glare, "I'll see what I can do, Doc."

"Ah, splendid then! I'll see you in a couple of days!"

Cooper sneers as the other man be-pops away like nothing had happened and shuts the door quickly. He would have to talk to Lucy about this when she got home.

It's near the evening by the time his wife gets home, and Cooper welcomes Lucy with a smile and open arms, which she gratefully falls into. He holds her close and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head, "Long day, baby?"

Lucy sighs dramatically and leans back so that she can look at him, "You have no idea. Dad had me sit in on all his meetings, and then I had class to teach. No one even paid attention."

Cooper chuckles a bit and leads Lucy over to the couch, where she sits down beside him. He keeps her close, one arm curled around her back as she tells him about her day, which sounds far more interesting than anything he did today.

They are having a light dinner when Cooper brings up his visitor from earlier in the day, "Dr. Gallows came by today."

He pauses when Lucy’s face erupts in , and the fork she holds falls to the plate. He cocks a brow at her and sits back, sitting his own utensils down to give his wife his full attention. Cooper sees her swallow harshly and avoid his gaze.

"What - uhm. What did he want?"

Cooper licks his lips, fingers itching for a cigarette to occupy his hands with, and says as easy as pie, "Wondering why we haven't "consummated our marriage" yet."

Lucy's shoulders draw up to around her ears, and she slaps her hands over her face, "I'm so sorry. He wasn't being pushy, was he?"

Cooper huffed and stood from his seat, "Well, he made it quite clear that he wasn't too thrilled that we've kept him waiting. I'm not a fan of these vault rules, Darlin', so we'll make him wait as long as you want him to."

He gathers the dishes and sets them in the sink for later, and then turns back around to see his wife still slumped over the table. He frowns and mosies over, one hand dropping to her shoulder and squeezing lightly, "We'll follow your lead."

Lucy reaches up a hand and curls it around his own, her fingers squeezing hard before she lifts her head and peeks up at him through her dark bangs. Cooper thinks she looks beautiful like this.

"I want to," she begins and elaborates when he lifts a brow, her voice wavering with nerves, "to have sex with you. I was just too scared to ask."

The ex-actor scoffs and stands behind her, his other hand coming up to land on her shoulder and massage the tense muscles there. She sags under him, and Cooper bends down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. He didn't want her to feel scared or nervous around him, not when he was her husband.

"You can talk to me about anything, Sweetheart," Cooper assures his wife quietly, "I'm always in your corner, no matter what, okay?"

Lucy nods, and when she looks at him again, he catches the way her pupils blow wide and watches her red tongue sneak out to wet her lips. Arousal pools in his stomach, and his hands tighten around her shoulders.

"Can we have sex, now?"

Cooper swallows harshly and searches her gaze for any time that says Lucy might not want any of this but only sees growing excitement. He smiles at her, a slow smirk that speaks for how much he absolutely wants to have sex. He lets her go and rounds the chair, then angles her chin up to look at him with his knuckle.

"Go get ready for me then, baby."

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon!Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a College

Summary: Ciel is given a new assignment, and Sebastian and (Y/N) find a way to blend in at Weston College.

Mouse Note: We're jumping right into the plot! Also, MC and Sebastian as a couple looooove to, you know, be in love. Writing them makes me blush. But, welcome back to One Hell of a Love! I had a ton of fun writing the Public School Arc. I have no idea if my updates will get ahead of the anime so just be wary of that (I read the manga so sometimes I am unsure). But please enjoy, feel free to comment (it's encouraged because it helps me stay motivated), and welcome back to the series!

            “Hello, darling,” said Sebastian, smiling at (Y/N) as he finished plating Ciel’s afternoon tea. On the tray lay a letter from the Queen, the seal easily recognizable.

            “My love,” said (Y/N), letting him pull them in for a light kiss. “Sneaking kisses in the halls? How scandalous.”

            “But you tempt me so,” said Sebastian with a smirk. “How can I resist?”

            (Y/N) let out a light laugh before turning around to walk with him towards Ciel’s office. Since their confession, the pair of demons had been quite satisfied together. They doubted the humans knew they were together, but they didn’t care. Their connection was different than humans’, their relationship didn’t follow the rules set by the ruling class.

            Besides, (Y/N) and Sebastian were singularly minded demons. Sebastian still had a job to do, and (Y/N) was entertained enough to continue helping him. Having a relationship merely added to their enjoyment of existence together in the otherwise monotonous, dull living and contracts.

            What was a little fun with the demon they love if not adding spice to existence?

            Sebastian knocked lightly on Ciel’s office door, and Ciel acknowledged their arrival. (Y/N) opened the door, and Sebastian rolled in the cart. Pleased with himself as usual, Sebastian announced the day’s tea and cake combination. He also offered Ciel the letter from the Queen, but Ciel opted to eat his sweet treat before attending to business. Sebastian and (Y/N) suppressed amused smirks at Ciel pushing back work in favor of treats.

            Finaly, Ciel unsealed the letter.

            “ ‘To my dear boy,’ ” he read. “ ‘The Campania incident was a frightful calamity. Have you already recovered? Are you enjoying your Easter? For my part, though Easter is here at long last, I find myself unable to whole-heartedly enjoy the holiday as there is something that weighs upon my mind.

            “I am worried about Derrick, the son of my cousin Duke Clemens. Derrick is in the fifth form at Weston College. But for some reason, it seems he has not returned home since last summer. He used to write home every day, but his letters abruptly stopped as well…The anxious duchess has called at his house, but he refuses to return home and so on. If it was Derrick alone, we might chalk it up to a rebellious phase. However, other students have also not returned home. I wonder what in the world could have brought about this behavior.

            “Because his only son is acting thusly, Duke Clemens continues to lose heart…The whole affair has me very concerned indeed. I pray my loved ones can enjoy Easter in high, peaceful spirits as soon as possible. Victoria.’ ”

            Sebastian considered. “So, in short, Her Majesty has charged you to investigate the reason why students have failed to return home from Weston College.”

            Ciel nodded. “Public schools are independent institutions that refuse all government intervention, so it’s hard to lay a finger on them. Rather, those involved with the school don’t want to publicize their internal circumstances by making waves.”

            Sebastian raised a brow. “Worrying about appearances even at a time like this. My, my, this is why humans are so tiring.”

            “You understand vanity quite well,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            “I am one hell of a butler,” said Sebastian. “Of course I must act accordingly.”

            (Y/N) simply looked at him in amusement.

            Nearly rolling his eyes at their obvious flirting—Ciel was not nearly as oblivious as the other servants—Ciel spoke. “I’d like someone to infiltrate the school, but Weston usually only lets in the sons of aristocrats. Those with titles are few, and I’m acquainted with most of them. If it comes down to sneaking in, a disguise would be dangerous.”

            “So you will go as yourself?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “I have no choice,” said Ciel, taking a sip of his tea. “And I certainly wouldn’t mind having the Queen in my debt. The problem lies not in whether or not there’s an open place at Weston.”

            “If there is none, you simply need to make one,” remarked Sebastian with a light smirk.

            “I’ll handle the investigation within the school,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N), you will have to support me without being discovered yourself. How you go about it is up to you.”

            Sebastian and (Y/N) bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

            (Y/N) knew that that order—“up to you”—would be put to good, entertaining use.

l

            “What is our plan for assisting the Young Master?” said (Y/N), sitting down in the library of the Phantomhive Mansion.

            “You do not think we will simply lurk in the shadows until needed?” said Sebastian. “It would give us quite a few private moments.”

            “As lovely as that possibility is, I suspect you have more planned,” said (Y/N), leaning their head on their hand with a sharp grin.

            “Perceptive as ever,” said Sebastian, pleased at (Y/N)’s acumen. “I feel we can better keep an eye on the situation and gather our own information as housemasters.” As adults in the college, they would be able to go places at times students weren’t—imperative for investigations.

            “Playing professors?” (Y/N) considered. “I haven’t done that yet, and I rarely play a masculine role. It sounds fun.”

            “I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully,” said Sebastian. “And I look forward to seeing in a more masculine role.” He knew for damn sure he’d be just as attracted to them no matter what form they took—he loved who they were, not their appearance. That meant little to demons.

            He tilted his head. “However…we should try to craft the proper disguise for your role.” Sebastian put his hand on his chest. “I have the perfect outfit for myself, but we shall have to see how you look.”

            “I can look masculine,” said (Y/N).

            “You can,” agreed Sebastian. “But I want you to look dashing, not just masculine.” He smirked. “Come alone, darling.”

            “You’re doing this to play dress up,” said (Y/N), smirking as they stood to follow him.

            “Or to undress you,” said Sebastian.

            “You’re insatiable.”

            “Positively gluttonous~”

l

            “I think robes would add to the outfit,” said Sebastian as he finished buttoning (Y/N)’s vest.

            They rolled their eyes. “I can’t wear a professor’s robes until I am hired. This is enough, I’m sure.”

            They wore a dark grey button-up with black pants, a black vest, a tie, and a coat overtop (which would become robes if hired). Around (Y/N)’s neck hung a silver cross. Some religious figures would claim the demons wouldn’t be able to handle the holy symbol, but they would be wrong. Unless being used with some sort of religious or divine magic, they were fine wearing it. In fact, (Y/N) and Sebastian knew that being religious would help them get the jobs as housemaster and assistant—they’d be seen as intelligent, well-rounded individuals.

            “You do look quite handsome,” said Sebastian, brushing a hand over (Y/N)’s hair fondly. They had altered it slightly, too, in order to fall in a traditionally masculine style (the length would never matter, though, since men like Viscount Druitt were as respect as Lord Midford, it was just the styling to present more masculine). “However, we could run a test.”

            “Go on,” said (Y/N), smirking. They were looking forward to learning what Sebastian was suggesting.

            Sebastian stepped out of the room and called down the hall. “Mey-Rin, come here, please.”

            “Of course, Mr. Sebastian!” said Mey-Rin, running down the hall. She, unsurprisingly, tripped, but Sebastian caught her and set her upright before she could knock anything over.

            “Really, Mey-Rin, you must be more careful,” tutted Sebastian.

            “S-Sorry, I am,” said Mey-Rin sheepishly, red as usual.

            “Now that you’re here, I need you to see someone,” said Sebastian.

            “Is it a guest?” said Mey-Rin nervously.

            “If you’d like to classify them as so,” said Sebastian, his words avoiding a lie with practiced ease. He stepped to the side, and (Y/N) stepped into their masculine role.

            “Hello, Mey-Rin,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            Mey-Rin’s eyes widened, and a heavy blush appeared on her cheek’s like it did when she faced Sebastian. Obviously, she found this masc form of (Y/N)’s quite attractive (and who could blame her?)

            “Oh, uh, sir, uh, h-hello! Nice to meet you!” She bowed awkwardly and ran off.

            (Y/N) watched her in amusement. “I barely changed my form, and yet that’s the reaction I got.” They smirked at Sebastian. “I think this disguise will work perfectly. Humans always do love a nice face and figure~”

            “They do indeed,” said Sebastian.

            “And I know another being who likes to look at me,” teased (Y/N).

            Sebastian smirked with sharp teeth, not caring in the slightest to look away.

            “Now that we have our plans,” said (Y/N), continuing on, “We should ensure there are…job openings for us.” They glanced at Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”

            “Indeed,” said Sebastian. “I’m sure there will be an opportunity quite soon.”

            They shared devilish grins which promised murder. They were going to have fun at Weston College.

l

            “Heave-ho!”

            The students of Sapphire Owl House threw their arms up, and Ciel was tossed up by the white sheet. It was an unusual welcome party (though Ciel had worried about hazing), but Weston College was already proving a bit…strange anyways.

            “Well, how do you like the traditional welcome of our house?” said Clayton, grinning. “Devote yourself to your studies all the more as a member of Sapphire Owl house, do you hear? Okay! Toss him higher next. One, two—”

            “What is the meaning of all this racket?” snapped an authoritative voice.

            “Dash it all!” cried one boy.

            “It’s the Housemasters!” said another, freezing as they realized they were caught.

            Ciel rolled haphazardly from the sheet to the ground with a yelp.

            “Clayton,” said a second calm, though commanding, voice. “An upperclassman such as you is involved in this? I’m ashamed.”

            “Explain yourself.”

            “Well, er, this is our house tradition…” said Clayton, formal as ever but a bit hesitant.

            “My, my, tradition is all well and good, but try not to overdo it.”

            Ciel looked up while someone knelt before him.

            “So you’re the new Phantomhive boy.” (Y/N) smiled at him with a hand outstretched. “Hello, I am Assistant Housemaster Noir.” Now their outfit was completed with robes instead of a jacket.

            “And I am Housemaster Michaelis,” said Sebastian, dressed in his own set of housemaster robes. His hair was pushed back, and glasses balanced on his face. He smiled. “Welcome to Sapphire Owl House.”

            Ciel’s eyebrow twitched. So this was how they planned to get in to Weston College. Ciel hated Sebastian as a teacher, and now he was stuck with him.

            Demons.

l

            Ciel, Sebastian, and (Y/N)’s time at Weston College commenced and was as British as it could be. It was a highly regulated school that raised its students into diligent workers and well-rounded men while also catering to aristocrats. Now, they tried to teach diligence by having the boys do certain chores occasionally, but when Ciel had to clean the dining hall…It of course became Sebastian and (Y/N)’s chores instead of Ciel’s.

            “Sebastian,” he called, pulling off his eyepatch.

            In an instant, Sebastian appeared beside him, and (Y/N) only took a moment longer to follow Sebastian.

            “Right here,” said Sebastian.

            “Already calling upon help? My, not even a day has passed,” said (Y/N).

            Ciel ignored the teasing and faced them with his hands on his hips. “It seems that Derrick has been transferred to another house.”

            “We did check the student roll and found the same information,” said Sebastian, flipping the clipboard paper over. “His name is on the list of Violet Wolf residents.”

            “An abrupt change,” said (Y/N). Their nose twitched. They didn’t trust it.

            “He should be at his house now,” said Ciel. “I’ll go there directly, so you tidy up here.”

            “Very good, sir,” said Sebastian, bowing as Ciel ran out of the room.

            “Now, then,” said (Y/N), taking off their long robes and surveying the mess in the dining room. “To work, Sebastian?”

            “To work,” confirmed Sebastian.

            He smirked. They were about to clean this room so well that it would be inhuman. (Poor Ciel was going to be heralded as an excellent cleaner and be asked to do it more often. He’d hate that, and what was Sebastian to do if not make some small irritation for his master?)

l

            Sure enough, once the dining room was spotless and Ciel had returned (unsuccessful) from Violet Wolf, he was giving great praise by Clayton at the amazing job he’d done cleaning.

            “Mr. Michaelis, Mr. Noir!” said Clayton as he spotted the housemasters. “Please feast your eyes on the dining hall! Phantomhive put it in order.” He patted an irritated, exhausted Ciel on the shoulder.”

            “Nice work, Phantomhive,” said Sebastian with an innocent smile while Ciel glared at him.

            “Truly an excellent job,” said (Y/N).

            “You, too, sirs,” said Ciel, gritting his teeth. Then, he paused. He could use this to his advantage. He needed to get close to the Prefects, and since Clayton was Bluewer’s Drudge…he needed to get close to Clayton.

            “I’m very glad to hear that my work pleases you so!” said Ciel, suddenly grinning brightly. He put on a performance of boyish gratitude and eagerness. “You see, I’m actually quite good at housekeeping and such!” He saluted. “So, please, Clayton, consider me at your service whenever you need aaanything done.”

            What a brat, offering up our services, thought (Y/N). That being said, his manipulation of others was entertaining. They supposed it was a fair tradeoff.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

@sarkzjam

@temporarilyablog

@elaemae

@urlocalsabito

@roo024

@ittomain1

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Light My Love -II - T.Nott

Series Summary - Follow Y/N as she navigated the wizarding world on her own, starting from her first year, all the way through to her seventh. As she falls in love and get her heart broken, how a certain friend is always there to mend her broken heart even though his is slowly getting broken in the process.

Chapter Summary - It's exam season before the Winter break and Y/N receives help from someone unexpected. Spending nearly every night awake studying for the exams, she is quite exhausted. Theo takes note of this and helps her out. After a long night of studying, the Slytherin boys see something rather interesting related to their dear friend Y/N.

Pairings - Theo Nott x Fem!Reader(eventual)

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LEAVE ME A COMMENT ON THIS POST!

Series Warnings - Blood purity, dark wizards, Reader is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, pining, angst, reader will have some shitty boyfriends, Female Reader, use of Y/N

Chapter Warnings - Female Reader, use of Y/N, mentions of food and eating, poorly written angst, crying, rough parent-child relationship, profanity

Author's Note - Welcome to part 2 of this series! I will be creating a masterlist for this series after I post this so keep an eye out! I will link it when it's done!

Word Count - 1479

My full Masterlist

Series Masterlist

My requests are open!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

It had taken her a few days to go back to normal but with the help of Theo and Draco, she was fine. Her mother had a certain affect on her, she knew just how to hurt her daughter. Draco understood this, his father was the exact same way, Theo’s father the same as well. That was the way the Death Eaters worked, they were harsh on their families especially with having to lay low as the dark lord was gone.

Her grade in Quirrell’s class improved with the unexpected help of Hermione Granger. She was not only Y/N’s academic rival but also Theo’s. She was willing to help the Slytherin despite the friends of the girl. She was back to acing all of her classes, buying some limited edition books as a thank you to Hermione.

It was the end of November, the autumn air getting colder as snow started falling from the sky, coating the Scottish Highlands. Exams were quickly approaching, the stress of another thing placed atop her shoulders. She had just managed to get her grade up in her worst class but now she was pulling all-nighters in the library or the common room studying. 

Her friends had taken note of the change in her, how she was always tired and sluggish, she was constantly falling asleep in class and just overall dull. She had lost her sparkle and charisma due to the long nights of studying. All of her friends were worried but Theo had taken the cake, he was acting like her little servant. Anything she wanted, he went and got for her. Anytime she needed a break, he was there to entertain her. Anytime she needed help on an assignment, he was right there guiding her to the correct answer. 

She was grateful to have someone like Theodore Nott in her life. He may have been a loner, but he was always happy to be with her, to help her with whatever she needed.

The weeks of studying had flown by and exam week was finally here. Her first one was arguably the easiest, Potions. She was able to pass the exam no problem, getting the best grade in the class. Right after she did her potions exam she had to do her exam for History of Magic. She was a bit nervous for this one, getting a pep talk from Draco and Theo right before.

“You have the best grade in the class, you’re going to pass the exam with no issue! If anyone is going to fail it’s going to be Draco,” Theo assured her.

“Hey!” Draco protested, “I’m not going to fail! It’s probably going to be Weasley who fails, he always sleeps in class.”

“So do you!” Y/N pointed out with a giggle causing the two boys to share a victorious look. Theo ushered the three of them inside the classroom, taking their seats in the back. Once all of the exams were given out and the papers were flipped over, her confidence skyrocketed. She knew every single question and knew the answers like the back of her hand. Some of the questions even pertained to her extended family, like the Gaunt family. 

She was the first one to finish and turn in her exam. She waited outside the class as her friends were still inside taking the test. It wasn’t until the end of the hour that the two boys came out, relieved looks on their faces for finally finishing the exam. They made their way to dinner together, stress eating more sweets than actual food before making their way back to the common room. 

She took her usual place next to the large window outlooking the depths of the Black Lake, pulling out her study guides and flashcards for the next exams. Theo sat beside her as he always did, asking her the questions on her flashcards and waiting to hear her answers, which were usually all right. Midnight quickly approached, the two of them half asleep, Theo coaxing her into calling it a night.

“C’mon bellissima, it’s late, we should go to bed,” He yawned out, rubbing his eyes gently as he did so. 

“Five more minutes?” She begged him, a pout on her face. She looked at him with a sparkle in her eye and a hint of a smile covered by the pout.

“It’s already midnight, principessa. Let’s go to bed, we can wake up early and get back to it.”

“But Theo, I really need to pass these exams. Just five more minutes, please?” He couldn’t say no again, not with the look on her pretty face. He was slipping, letting out a groan as he finally gave in. 

“Fine, five more minutes. No more than that, got it?” She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before they continued to study. His cheeks turned pink as he looked down at the next flashcard. “What is the incantation for the levitation spell?”

“Wingardium Leviosa! Easy!”

The rest of the Slytherin house was quiet, the only two awake were Y/N and Theo, sitting in front of the window as he asked her questions and she answered. Their study session lasted much longer than five minutes. The next thing they knew, their housemates were all waking up and filing into the common room. Theo looked at the time before letting out a gasp. 

“Oh Salazar! We’ve been awake for 24 hours! You said five more minutes!” Theo realised with a groan. He wasn’t mad at her in the slightest but she felt guilty.

“I’m so sorry Theo. I didn’t even realise the time until everyone started to wake. Go to your dorm to rest a bit before the day actually starts, please. I can finish up by myself,” She rambled guiltily.

“It’s okay, principessa. If I’m going to rest, you’re coming with me. You need rest too, you know?” Theo teased her, causing a smile to take over her face. He stood up, offering her his hand which she gladly took. Theo helped her up and led her to his room that he shared with Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Mattheo. The four boys still in the room and wide awake, sending teasing remarks to the pair. “Oh shove off, we just spent all night studying in the common room. We’re just going to rest here through breakfast,” Theo defended the two of them.

“Good, you both look like death incarnate. I’ve never seen dark circles that were nearly black,” Mattheo teased before heading out of the room. The three others bid the pair goodbye and the promise of getting them up after breakfast was over. 

Y/N and Theo climbed into his bed and fell asleep almost immediately. They slept all the way through breakfast and the first 2 hours of classes which thankfully were cancelled. Draco, Blaise and Enzo sticking true to their word of waking the pair up when it was time for the first class of the day. It was exam day for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The two of them woke up with a start when they heard screaming, bumping their heads together and groaning in pain. The three boys laughed at the two as they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. “That was hilarious! I wish we got a video of that!” Blaise laughed.

“Fuck off Zabini!” Y/N groaned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before standing. “I swear you guys have better beds than the girls. My bed feels like a rock,” She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Her shirt riding up revealed an interesting scar on her abdomen. It was almost identical to the scar on Harry Potter’s forehead, just slightly larger.

“Where’d you get the scar from?” Draco asked with curiosity.

“None of your business, Draco. I’m gonna go back to my dorm to get ready,” She snapped before rushing out of the room quickly.

“Am I the only one who saw it? It looked like Potter’s scar,” he mentioned to the three other boys.

“I saw it too, I wonder if she got it in a similar way. An unforgivable curse backfiring but leaving her with a scar? It’s possible, right?” Enzo theorised before shaking his head, “Nevermind, just let her come to us about it. It’s better that way than us trying to figure out where it came from.” With that, Enzo and Blaise left the room to make their way to Flitwick’s class. 

“You think her parents did that?” Theo asked, his voice deeper and laced with sadness just thinking about it.

“I mean probably. You know how her mum is, she’s a terrible woman and her father is a terrible man. I can only imagine what she goes through being stuck in that house day in and day out.”

Taglist:

@bigsimperika @melllinaa @chgrch @the-girl-who-simps-too-much

[dcydrecming]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆... troy pace.

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { TROY PACE } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { HE/HIM } is ? they kind of look like { CHRIS EVANS } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { FORTY ONE } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { FOUR YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { ANTHONY BRIDGERTON } from { BRIDGERTON }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { DONOVAN'S AUTO } as a { HEAD MECHANIC }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE WANDERER } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { SARCASTIC } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { VENTURESOME } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { THREE BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { SPRING STREET }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

STATISTICS.

FULL NAME: troy shane pace.

NICKNAME(S): t, big t, pace.

AGE: forty one.

GENDER: cis man.

ZODIAC SIGN: gemini.

PLACE OF BIRTH: gold coast, aus.

PRONOUNS: he/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: straight.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: straight.

OCCUPATION: head mechanic at donovan's auto.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, french (minimum), italian (minimum).

ACCENT: australian (has softened over the years).

FAMILY.

FATHER: charles pace (deceased)

MOTHER: victoria pace nee alcott (deceased)

SIBLING(S): one sister, younger.

CHILDREN: eleven month old daughter, clara pace.

PET(S): two border collie dogs named max and maple.

BACKGROUND.

troy often tells people that being brought up on the gold coast in australia was filled with surf, sand and a shit load of fun. from a very young age, his father taught him how to fix cars, surf at the local beach, skateboard, to laugh and the importance of family. while his mother introduced him to a wide range of music, cooking, would help pull pranks on his father and younger sister and taught him how to swim. there was never a dull moment in the pace house, that was for sure.

when it came to schooling, it was never something that troy overly enjoyed, though it was a social outing; how could he miss that? he was a gifted, and highly intelligent student, so his mother and teachers insisted - he passed tests and assessments with flying colours when he was in class - though he grew more interested in entertaining his peers and the opposite sex as time drew on.

though when troy is passionate about something, he gives it his all. he completed a light vehicle mechanics trade as a part of his high school certificated and graduated the top of his class. in fact, he won awards across the state for his outstanding work.

the first thing he did when he got his certificate was book a one way ticket overseas; he was taking a gap year with the hard earned money he'd saved over the years from side hustles.

and oh how he traveled. for months, he spent his time bouncing across the world - working in some places to earn extra money to keep going, sightseeing, but alas, he eventually made his way home.

in his early-twenties, troy was given the opportunity to head to the usa for a couple of months. leisurely at first, though on his travels ended up landing himself a job in an automotive shop. it wasn't something he was expecting, especially when he was there on a holiday visa, but that soon changed. and eventually... weeks turned to months, and he was working with some of the best in the country.

parental death, accident tw: though troy never thought he would be beckoned home by his sister at the young age of 29 because of a tragedy. their family were as close as they came, even if they argued and bickered like every other family - so hearing that his parents had passed made him physically sick. the people he idolised, looked up to and saw as role models - ripped from him by a tragic accident.

grief tw: troy was on the next plane to australia, grief struck and in shock. he didn’t want to go back home; he didn’t feel like he could but he had to for his sister. he had to step up and be the person that she needed - strong, in control, and head of the family. the entire time he was home, he wanted to flea; get back on a plane and never set foot in the country again as the memories of his childhood and his parents taunted him. haunted his every waking moment, and his dreams were plagued with their image. it was in those months he spent in their family home he made the decision for his sister, and himself -- they would never come back to australia again. the very second he could, troy packed up their life in the gold coast (what was left of it) and headed back to america, where bad habits became worst.

he was already a terrible drinker, and that just intensified. his habits with sleeping with different women every other night increased, seemingly like a broken record, all while pushing his emotions down because god forbid anybody else know what was going on inside. god forbid he address the trauma and grieve he was feeling. going into work got harder, and harder every day, but with time, he saw it as a form of connection; he was just like his father. 

PALMVIEW.

before moving to palmview, troy city hopped; looking for his 'temporary home'. he’d been through a few places over the years, staying a couple of months, a year at another, if he really enjoyed his time in one place, he would stay for a couple years. until he stumbled over palmview just under four years ago. he would often be found at donovan's through the day, and then at the bar after work. if he wasn't at the bar, he'd be at the gym, the beach, the park - somewhere. anywhere that he could be social and interact with people, he was there.

though he was about to up and leave, ready to take on his next adventure when life had another plan for him.

pregnancy tw: it has been no secret that the australian has a bit of a reputation as being... a player. not intentionally, but troy enjoys the pleasures of life through and through. whether that be sex, or food, or lounging on the beach for hours... but acting on his desires finally came around full circle. a couple of weeks before troy planned to call it quits on palmview, his fling announced her pregnancy to him. his exact reaction was “... well fuck.”

it was the last thing he had expected, nor planned for, but he knew he had to step up. family had always been everything to him, and he hadn't realised how much he actually wanted it. he kept his job at donovan's, bought a proper place in spring street and in all honesty... he has never felt more at ease. eleven months ago, troy’s daughter was born and has become the light of his life. the absolute light.

PERSONALITY.

alcoholism tw: if anyone were to tell troy that he had a problem with drinking, troy would tell them to fuck off and give them the finger; however, he does have a bit of a drinking problem. it’s become a coping mechanism over the years, a friend that greets him at the end of the day since his parents death. after all, a couple of drinks a night won’t hurt, right?

troy can be described as cheeky, playful and sarcastic (sense of humour, that is). a lot of people would assume he is being rude, when in reality he is simply being a smartass. he is loyal to a fault, incredibly passionate about matters he cares about, and tends to use humour as a deflection. he is a flirt through and through, and tends to sleep around more than he probably should.

he tends to not worry about a lot of things, letting life take him as it pleases - seeking the simple pleasures of life. although he does have his guard up mighty high. showing any weakness to anybody is not on his books, and spending time pitying himself is wasted time. bottle it up, and move on is the way he approaches his own emotions. he gets in his own head a lot.

sport has always been apart of troy's life since he had been able to walk. name a sport, and troy will do it. anything that will get him outside and moving. give him a spontaneous trip, and he’ll go on it. he does, however, enjoy lounging around watching netflix in the nude on occasion as well, though not so much since clara arrived.

for as long as troy can remember, he has been focused on enjoying life as it was thrown at him. not knowing what his purpose was or what his life meant. though his perspective has changed, and he is much more settled, goal orientated and made him see the bigger picture in life. becoming a father was exactly what he needed, without even realising it.

[infoglitch]

Falling dusk (a Lancaster story)

Chapter 1: a beacon in the dark.

Ruby's feet trudged through the black sand as she carried crescent Rose on her back. With jaune not to far behind as he carried crocea mors on his hip and ember Celica on his right arm.

Ruby's torn cloak billowed behind her revealing gamble shroud was attached to the back of her waist.

"how much farther until we reach beacon?" Jaune asked as his breath was ragged. Ruby kept going as jaune followed, she was completely ignoring him.

"ruby! Are you listening?" Jaune spoke again as Ruby kept walking her once silver eyes now a dull black. Jaune grumbled softly as he managed to catch up to her and grab her shoulder.

"RUBY." He said sternly as Ruby turned to face him her eyes narrowing at him. Her face contorted into a scowl. "We have a few hundred miles left until we reach beacon, and we will still a few hundred miles when we finally leave vacuo. YOU ASKING QUESTIONS ISNT HELPING" Ruby finally answered as her voice was cold. Jaune simply looked at her and nodded.

"alright.. we will have to camp soon. How much longer do you think we can last with just our aura?" Ruby questioned the blonde as jaune sighed, closing his eyes before eventually opening them.

"we got 6 days left then our auras are drained we'll need to find more rations soon... Who knows we might find some cookies." Jaune jested but ruby just sighed and looked away.

Eventually the two set up camp as jaune sat opposed to Rwby as she had taken out her sisters scarf and held it close.

Jaune sat quiet just allowing silence to fill the void. Before finally he asked the question he knew he would ask eventually after.. after Armageddon.

"what happened to us.." jaune asked as Ruby just looked away. "Now isn't the time jaune" she would mumble.

"there is no time left rubes, we are left HERE! Time doesn't exist anymore- Life doesn't exist anymore! so- what happened to us?! We were practically linked at the hip when we started. But now- Now I can't tell if I'm even your friend anymore. Let alone your partner..." Jaune pressed on as Ruby just looked away. She didn't want to entertain this conversation.. not at all.

Jaune took a breath before sighing. "I'm just... I'm tired.. I still worry about you rubes but I'm at the point of just giving up. Everyone is gone, my sister's are gone, my parents are gone, your family is gone, all of our friends are gone. Reduced to either ash or Grimm.. I cant keep going like this-"

"I CANT KEEP GOING LIKE THIS EITHER! BUT IM NOT THE ONE BITCHING ABOUT IT!" Ruby interrupted Jaune as she stood up. Her face was only darkened by the growing shadows.

"YOU THINK I DONT WISH WE WERE BACK AT BEACON, BACK TO BEING KIDS WHO JUST WANTED TO FIGHT MONSTERS?! I DO! I do! There is never going to be a day where I hope this is all just a nightmare. That I will wake up at beacon being late to Ms. Goodwitch's class, with my sister, my teammates, my friends waiting for me! I wanna go back to the way things were just as much as you do!" Ruby continued her eyes glowing as hot tears ran down her face.

"but what the hell am I supposed to do when reality is that this is REAL. This is our destiny. To try and find the remaining relics in hopes that we can undo this or at the least stop Salem! You wanna know what happened to us?! We broke a part because you can't handle reality!" Ruby shouted out as she knew some parts of what she said were wrong but she knew the majority was right.

Jaune just sat there. As much as he wanted to protest he figured it only escalate things. And this point, things could not be allowed to escalate anymore.

"alright.." that was all jaune could mutter as Ruby just looked at him. Before she sat down.

As the two were about to just continue the rest of the night in silence a light shined in the sky.

[agentnico]

Conclave (2024) review

This Pope is dope!

Plot: Cardinal Lawrence is tasked with one of the world's most secretive and ancient events - leading the selection of a new pope. Surrounded by powerful religious leaders in the halls of the Vatican, he soon uncovers a trail of deep secrets that could shake the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church.

Since his stellar 2022 adaptation of All Quiet on the Western Front that bagged him a Best International Feature Academy Award, Edward Berger showcased himself as a director to keep an eye out for. I did not expect him to be back so quickly, yet here we are with Conclave, and goodness we he may have yet another awards contender on his hands. This movie is all about lies, deception, manipulation and strategy, all encapsulated in this global scale game of chess. From the offset one may question how interesting a movie about a bunch of cardinals picking the next Pope could be. Like it’s just a bunch of men in red caps sitting and talking. But believe me this is far from a boring tale, as Berger manages to turn this intimate and supposedly-holy ritual into a thrilling and tense experience that echoes the scheming, backstabbing nature and intrigue of something like Game of Thrones whilst also feeling strikingly relevant. I’m not saying this thing is full of sex and blood, but truly this movie about priests gossiping is extremely entertaining and engaging. Whenever the ballot result was being announced after every vote, I’m not going to lie, and I hate using this term, I was at the edge of my seat, wondering who the next front runner was.

Part of me wishes this took a Death of Stalin approach with all these cardinals trying to one up each other to get to the top, as there is so much comedy potential in that. However this movie plays it mostly straight, yet it does still manage to find some humour in the interactions, with especially one of the most diabolical vape hits of all time, and I don’t just mean in cinema history. Truly though this is a really well made piece of drama, and also fantastically shot, as Berger and his crew manage to turn the Vatican into a highly cinematic location, with even a small behind-the-scene auditorium darkened in a way that only the red of the cardinals clothing and the turquoise blue seats are highlighted, which I must say was a phenomenal minimalistic approach. Also a bird’s eye sequence of the cardinals holding white umbrellas and walking past a fountain - chef’s kiss! Huge shout out to Volker Bertelmann’s music score, as even though I think his work on All Quiet on the Western Front was overrated and dull, here his style works much better, with his score dominating a specific sound made by a string chamber orchestra, that mirrored the movie’s constant theme of being “stuck”.

With this cast you already expected high class performances, but truly they are great. Elegant, crafty, poised, but never shy of getting emotional when needed, Ralph Fiennes abilities of balance continue to impress me with how he invests in making a good character. It’s a reserved yet powerful performance. Stanley Tucci goes a bit more theatrical, his character the voice of the "liberal" side as his aggressions and passions are artfully delivered in a manner fit for the stage to offset Fiennes' calmer tones. John Lithgow is almost a mix of the two extremes, holding his usual support role that keeps so many of the leading sides held and providing perhaps most of the engaging mystery element in the search for the truth. Isabella Rossellini is unfortunately a tad under-used, though she does get one scene to deliver that powerful note that the Oscars would love to reference should she be nominated. Lucian Msamati, Sergio Castellitto and Carlos Diehz also make notable turns as the other contenders for the Pope role, all of whom get their moments to shine.

In my eyes Conclave is a stunning piece of work. It manages to take what one would assume as such a simple premise, yet manages to entangle it with so many threads of twists and turns, as such turning a political and religious drama into a true mystery thriller, with Fiennes character acting more so as a detective rather than a leader of the conclave. Partner that with the great acting, sublime cinematography and a slow but engaging pace with a script filled with wit and realism, and we have ourselves one hell of a motion picture!

Overall score: 8/10

[ripple-in-the-wound-and-wake]

Circle of Pine and Riddle

Chapter One: Bad Lives Make Good Stories

W/C: 4,964

“And so, if that isn’t big enough for what you’re doing, you could always create the quadruple piston extender, as covered in chapter 13, page 462. If you will all turn to this page, please…”

Grian stifled a yawn, his eyes watering from the effort of keeping them open. He meant no disrespect to Professor Jumbo—really, he didn’t. Redstone engineering was immensely valuable and horribly complex- but none of that changed the fact that it was the most painfully dull subject he’d ever had the misfortune of sitting through. No wonder he’d put off this one required course until his senior year of uni.

At least he wasn’t the only senior, Grian mused as his gaze drifted a few seats away. Scar Goodtimes, sprawled across his chair like a cat in the sun, was doing a splendid job of making Grian look like a model student. The edge of a brightly colored comic book peeked out from his textbook. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Either he didn’t care or wanted to see if Professor Jumbo would call him out.

“So, are there any questions?” Professor Jumbo clasped his hands, his thick, shiny mustache curling with his grin. When no one raised their hand, he chuckled. “Ah, of course not. It really is quite simple, isn’t it? In that case, do your reading tonight, because next class we’ll be doing a lab! Isn’t that exciting?”

A few groans rippled through the lecture hall. The professor frowned, brushing at his tie as though physically warding off negativity. “Oh, don’t tell me you all aren’t excited! Hands-on learning is the best type of learning! Now, settle down. I have an announcement to make!”

The class hushed, and Jumbo adjusted his tie. “Now, I know not all of you are freshmen, but please listen anyway. This applies to everyone! I’ve been contacted by an up-and-coming entertainment company called The Watchers. They’re looking for participants for a game show competition and are offering tuition relief—or reimbursement—for the winner!”

Grian perked up at the word reimbursement.

“For freshmen, they’re offering to cover all four years of tuition. For older students, they’ll reimburse what you’ve already paid and cover the rest!” Excited murmurs buzzed through the classroom.

“What’s the competition about?” a student called out from behind Grian.

Professor Jumbo chuckled nervously. “Ah, excellent question! And one I… don’t have an answer to! They wanted to keep it mysterious. Fun, right?”

Another student asked, “When and where is this happening?”

“Seattle!” Jumbo announced with forced enthusiasm. “Next Friday! And we’ll be taking a very nice bus. State-of-the-art, even!”

The chatter dulled.

“A bus? That’s like… what, a twenty-hour drive?” someone muttered.

Dr. Jumbo coughed. “Class dismissed! Anyone interested, stay behind! Don’t forget your lab materials on Thursday!”

As students filed out, Grian stayed rooted in his seat. Full tuition reimbursement… that could solve so many of his problems. His eyes wandered across the room and stopped on Scar. The other senior hadn’t budged.

Of all people, it had to be Scar.

Grian didn’t have an issue with Scar. He hardly even knew the guy. He’d seen him- heavens knew he was hard to miss. He might have had a class with him here or there. But he certainly wouldn’t call them friends, or even acquaintances. No, Grian didn’t know this man well enough to dislike him.

Scar Goodtimes had the kind of face you’d see in a toothpaste ad—clean-cut, annoyingly symmetrical, and impossible to dislike without sounding petty. His green eyes were sharp enough to catch anyone’s attention but soft enough to make it seem like they weren’t trying, which was probably the worst part. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, though; there was a lopsided charm to his grin, a casual disarray to his hair, as if he’d just rolled out of bed and still managed to look better than everyone else in the room.

And then there was the scar, a slash across his nose and cheek that should have made him look dangerous but somehow didn’t. It added just enough intrigue to make people wonder without scaring them off. Polite curiosity, not fear.

He was tall, of course. Broad-shouldered. One of those people who looked like they should be wrestling alligators or modeling expensive suits, not reading superhero comics and watching Disney+ in the back of a lecture hall. And yet, for all his shiny charm, there was something Grian couldn’t stand about him—too perfect, too smooth, too... untouchable.

Even Grian could admit he had presence. The kind that made people lean in when he spoke, laugh when he joked, follow when he led. It didn’t matter if he was talking about Star Wars or theme parks or nuclear physics; Scar could sell you a dream and make you believe it was yours all along.

Which was irritating, really.

Really, very irritating. 

“So, I assume that you both are here for more information about the competition?” The professor asked, clearing his throat. 

Grian simply nodded, as the other student in the room chuckled and closed his textbook. “Now, come on, Dr. Jambo. Who would turn down a wonderful opportunity like this?”

“Ehm- it is Dr. ‘Jumbo,’ but- no, no, nevermind. This is certainly a great opportunity. You both are seniors, correct?” The professor smiled, while beckoning Grian closer.

“Well, I certainly am! Not too sure about pipsqueak over there, though,” Scar said, pointing his head towards Grian, who was making his way toward them. 

“Pipsqueak?” Grian said, the offense slipping into his tone making it sound higher pitched than he would have liked. He was not short. He may not have been as tall as Scar, but he was certainly not ‘pipsqueak’ status.

“Ooh, what an accent! ‘You from across the pond?’” He asked in a terrible British accent, prompting Grian to scowl.

“Yes, I am a senior. And yes, I am from the UK.” He scoffed.

“Lovely! Lovely. Good to see you both are getting along.” The professor laughed nervously, before handing them both some papers. “Here’s the permission slips to go on the trip. Have them turned in as soon as you can.”

Grian then quirked an eyebrow as Scar flipped to the last page, scrawled his signature on the bottom line, and handed it back to the professor. “Sounds good!”

“...Ah! Um. Okay, then.” Dr. Jumbo tucked it into a folder. “One more thing. I was… expecting a few more people to be interested in the trip…”

“Me too! Man, people have no sense of wonder and whimsy in this day and age.” Scar shook his head. “Who wouldn’t want to compete in a super fun game show?”

“So he’s not even in it for the prize money… of course. Why would he need it? People like him never do.” Grian thought to himself, judgmentally.

“Well. See, the thing is, the school agreed to cover the cost for the trip… as long as more than five people attend.”

“...Ah.” Grian sighed. He definitely wasn’t paying out of pocket for the chance to win money.

“No, no, no! Don’t make that face! Listen, if either of you have any friends who attend this school, that would work out! Yeah?” Dr. Jumbo offered nervously.

Scar sighed and snapped his fingers. “Man, if only my best buddy Cub hadn’t gone abroad this semester! He would have been so down for this.”

The professor's face fell further, and Grian huffed. “I suppose I can ask my younger brother… and he has a good few friends who are the… impulsive type.”

He perked up, and Grian swore he saw his mustache curl up at the ends. “Oh, isn’t that just wonderful? Well, I won’t keep  you much longer. Let me know if there are any updates!” He gave them both warm smiles.

Grian nodded curtly and grabbed his bag, keeping his face as neutral as possible. He could still hear Scar’s bright, effortless laughter as he stepped into the hallway, and for some reason, it made his jaw clench.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Honestly. Who’s that cheerful over paperwork?”

Scar’s face—annoyingly symmetrical, stupidly charming, absolutely not worth thinking about—flashed briefly in his mind. Grian scoffed at himself, glaring at the floor as he walked. He didn’t dislike Scar. He didn’t like him either. He was just...there. Obnoxiously. Intrusively. Everywhere.

With a sigh, Grian adjusted his bag strap. A game show, a chance to clear some bills, and Scar Goodtimes for company on a 20 hour trip? This was going to be unbearable.

But tuition reimbursement was worth it. Probably.

He cast one last look at the classroom door behind him and started walking faster, as if that might put some distance between him and the man who, for some reason, still hadn’t left his head.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Grian didn’t look up from the vegetables he was chopping as Jimmy came through the door. “How was your day?”

“How was your day?” Jimmy mocked in a posh accent, ditching his bag by the door and walking into the kitchen. “Ugh, stew again? Would it kill you to cook up burgers every once in a while?”

“Well, why don’t you cook then, Timmy?” Grian rolled his eyes, smiling a bit when his brother glared at the nickname.

“Nah. Just feed me better, won’t you?” Jimmy sat himself up on the counter and stretched. You could tell that they were related once you were told, but most people didn’t assume it at first glance. Grian focused on the steady rhythm of the knife against the cutting board, the sharp taps filling the space between them. Jimmy swung his legs idly from the counter, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world—because he didn’t.

It wasn’t fair, really. Jimmy was younger, but he was taller, stronger, and healthier, with that golden hair that always seemed to catch the light just right. By contrast, Grian's hair was a dull, mousy shade of blonde, perpetually messy from rushing between classes, work, and everything else he had to juggle. His glasses kept slipping down his nose, and his hoodie hung loose over his slight frame, doing him no favors.

“Burgers are bad for you,” Grian muttered, dumping the chopped carrots into the pot and trying to focus on the stew instead of the nagging feeling in his chest.

“Not if you make them at home!” Jimmy shot back, grinning. “You can put vegetables in them or something. Isn’t that a thing? Stealth health?”

“That’s not how it works,” Grian said, but his voice faltered. Jimmy laughed, loud and carefree, like he always did. The kind of laugh Grian hadn’t heard himself make in years—not since before everything had changed.

Jimmy leaned back on his palms, perfectly at ease. He had that easy charm that made people gravitate toward him, his honey-brown eyes bright and lively, a stark contrast to Grian’s almost-black ones that seemed to swallow the light. Jimmy fit in wherever he went, while Grian… didn’t. Grian kept his head down, went to class, and came home. That was his life now. School and keeping Jimmy fed, housed, and alive. He was fine with that. He had to be.

“Oi, you’re spacing out again,” Jimmy said, snapping his fingers in front of Grian’s face. “What, are you burning something? Because it smells fine so far.”

Grian swatted his hand away, feigning annoyance. “Get off the counter, you’re in the way.”

Jimmy didn’t budge. “You’re so grumpy, you know that?” he said with a smirk, his golden hair catching the kitchen light just enough to make it look like he’d spent all day in the sun.

Grian shot him a half-hearted glare but didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy for it, not lately. “You’re impossible,” Grian mumbled, stirring the pot with a bit more force than necessary.

“And yet, here I am, gracing you with my presence,” Jimmy replied dramatically, his grin as blinding as ever.

For a moment, Grian considered throwing a carrot at him. Instead, he stirred the stew again, his reflection rippling in the surface. Jimmy deserved someone better than him—someone who could laugh like that, bright and unrestrained, without the weight of everything pressing down on them. He wished he could be a parent to him, instead of a clueless kid himself.

“Just don’t fall off the counter,” Grian said finally, glancing at his brother.

Jimmy raised a brow, amused. “Oh, don’t worry, mum. I’ll try to survive your world-class cooking.”

Grian sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. Almost. “Do you want to go to Seattle?”

Jimmy wrinkled his nose. “Um, why? You having a midlife crisis already? We only just moved to Cali.”

“No, not permanently, idiot.” Grian scoffed, adding more salt to the stew. “One of my professors got this offer for this competition up north. They… they offered to cover the winner’s full tuition.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Shit, really? Like, the whole thing?”

“Yeah.” Grian said simply, turning the heat down to a simmer. 

“Huh, never took you as the type to take risks. Are we really that strapped for cash?” Jimmy snickered, but then hesitated when he saw Grian’s expression. “...Wait, G? Do we really not have the money?”

“Look, don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting through college. But yeah, it would be a huge load off my back if at least one of our tutions were covered.” Grian said, filling a spoon with broth and handing it to Jimmy. “Taste test?”

Jimmy took a sip and nodded appreciatively. “Mmm, cloves?”

“Yup. Does it work well?”

“So good.” He stuck the spoon back into the spoon and took another sip. “And of course I’ll go. I’d never let my poor, timid older brother be stranded all alone up north!”

“Ugh, shut it. You brat.” Grian said fondly, pouring a bowl of stew for his brother. “Oh, and also… Do you know anyone else who would want to go? Apparently the school will only pay for us to go if we have a certain number of people.”

“Oh! I’ll ask Joel. He’d totally be down.” Jimmy enthused, picking out some mushrooms from his stew and putting them on a napkin.

Grian rolled his eyes. Of course… Joel. Jimmy’s best friend since they were, what, eight? He never liked the kid, he was loud and obnoxious. “First of all, eat your vegetables. Second of all… any other friends?”

“Mushrooms aren’t vegetables, they’re fungus. And Joel is great! I love Joel, he’s my best mate! And he’ll probably bring Lizzie along- you like her! You said she was ‘intelligent’.”

“Correction: I said she was too intelligent to be dating him.” Grian tsked, scooping more produce into Jimmy’s bowl. “But fine, fine, do what you want.”

Grian caught his own reflection in the kitchen window—his tousled hair, the dark rings under his eyes from too many late nights spent juggling assignments and worrying about bills. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let himself relax.

“Well, you’ve got a plan now, right?” Jimmy asked, licking his spoon clean. “Joel and Lizzie are in, and you’ve got me. This could actually be fun! If we’re lucky, we could win that tuition money, and you won’t have to worry about—”

“I know.” Grian cut him off, his voice a little quiet. “But I still have to make sure it all works out.”

Jimmy slid off the counter, stretching with a yawn. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But hey, we’ve got this, G. Don’t stress it too much. It’ll be an adventure, and that’s something, right?”

Grian didn’t know if he was convinced, but he nodded anyway, offering his brother a tight smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Jimmy grinned back at him, oblivious to Grian’s unspoken worries. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go call up Joel. Don’t burn down the kitchen, okay?”

“I won’t,” Grian said, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, Timmy.”

Jimmy gave him a thumbs-up as he grabbed his phone, heading for the living room.

For a moment, Grian stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the simmering pot. He grabbed his phone and sent out a few texts of his own. It might not be easy, but if there was one thing Grian knew how to do, it was make things happen.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

WATCHERS ENTERTAINMENT: PARTICIPATION AGREEMENT

This Participation Agreement (the "Agreement") is made and entered into as of the date signed below by the undersigned participant (the "Contestant") and Watchers Entertainment, a Washington state-based organization ("We," "Us," "The Watchers"), collectively referred to as "The Parties."

1. PURPOSE OF AGREEMENT

By signing this Agreement, the Contestant agrees to participate in the competitive event (the "Event") hosted by The Watchers Entertainment. The Event will take place at a location(s) undisclosed prior to commencement, and the Contestant agrees to follow all instructions, rules, and procedures as outlined by The Watchers Entertainment prior to, during, and after the Event.

2. ELIGIBILITY AND PARTICIPATION

Eligibility: Participation is exclusively available to individuals who are attending an accredited university and who are over the age of 18. 

Competition Details: The Contestant acknowledges that the full details, format, and rules of the Event are confidential and will not be disclosed until the Event has commenced. Contestants understand and agree that they will not receive specific information about the challenges until they are being executed.

3. CONDUCT DURING THE EVENT

The Contestant agrees to:

Participate in the Event voluntarily, adhering to all instructions and rules as set by The Watchers.

Refrain from engaging in any behavior that could endanger the integrity or safety of the Event.

Be subject to any changes, modifications, or additions to the Event as deemed necessary by The Watchers, which may include alterations to the format, location, and/or timing of the Event.

4. RISKS AND LIABILITY

Assumption of Risk: The Contestant fully understands and accepts the inherent risks associated with the Event, including, but not limited to, physical injury, emotional distress, mental fatigue, and potential environmental hazards. Contestant acknowledges that The Watchers will not be held liable for any injuries, damages, or losses sustained during the Event.

Indemnification: The Contestant agrees to indemnify, defend, and hold harmless The Watchers, its employees, agents, sponsors, or any affiliated parties, from any and all claims, lawsuits, liabilities, or damages arising from or related to participation in the Event, including, but not limited to, injury, death, trauma, or other personal harm.

No Claims: The Contestant waives the right to pursue any claims, whether civil or criminal, against The Watchers Entertainment for any reason related to the Event, including any unforeseen circumstances or injury occurring during the Event.

5. USE OF IMAGE AND PERSONALITY RIGHTS

By signing this Agreement, the Contestant grants The Watchers permission to film, photograph, and record their participation in the Event, including any pre- and post-event footage, and consents to the use of such materials in promotional and commercial content without compensation. The Watchers may record footage of the contestant at any time, regardless of the knowledge of the participant.

The Contestant further agrees that The Watchers may manipulate, edit, or alter any footage or content for the purposes of creating promotional materials, broadcast, or digital distribution.

6. NO DISCLOSURE OF CHALLENGE DETAILS

Contestants understand that: They will not be informed about the full scope of challenges or tasks until the challenges have been completed. The Watchers retain sole discretion over all challenge-related decisions, including when and how challenges are revealed.

7. LIMITATION OF LIABILITY

In no event shall The Watchers, or any party associated with the Event, be held responsible for any loss of property, emotional or psychological distress, or bodily harm occurring to the Contestant, either during or after the Event. This includes any injuries sustained due to natural hazards or accidents.

The Watchers shall not be liable for any loss, damages, or issues arising out of Contestant's failure to properly prepare for the Event, nor for any actions taken by Contestant during the course of the Event, including unauthorized actions or behaviors.

8. CONFLICT RESOLUTION AND ARBITRATION

Any dispute arising out of or relating to this Agreement or the Contestant's participation in the Event shall be handled exclusively by The Watchers' CEO. The Contestant waives the right to seek resolution through any third-party legal action, mediation, or arbitration. Decisions made by The Watchers’ CEO are final and binding.

9. TUITION REWARD AND WINNING CRITERIA

The Contestant acknowledges that:

The specific criteria for determining winners and the number of winners are at the sole discretion of The Watchers. While the potential for full tuition reimbursement is outlined, the Contestant understands that The Watchers reserves the right to adjust, limit, or eliminate this reward at any point before, during, or after the Event.

Final Decision: All prizes and rewards are subject to final decisions made by The Watchers, including the timing, manner, and distribution of said rewards.

10. ADDITIONAL TERMS

Changes to the Agreement: The Watchers reserve the right to modify, update, or amend this Agreement at any time. The Contestant will be notified of such changes, but continued participation in the Event will constitute acceptance of the modified terms.

Governing Law: This Agreement shall be governed by the laws of the State of Washington.

By signing below, the Contestant acknowledges having read and understood the terms outlined in this Agreement, and agrees to participate in the Event under these terms.

Signature:

Grian X. Solidarity

Printed Name: Grian X. Solidarity

Date: April 25th, 2024

Grian set the pen down as he read over the contract again, stamping down the wary feeling in his gut as he looked at his name penned in the bottom left-hand corner. The clattering of the kitchen utensils and the warmth of the evening seem so ordinary, but here he is, staring down the absurdly legalistic, typewritten terms on the page, each clause more convoluted than the last The contract was heavy with legal jargon and fancy words, but the prize was clear enough.

"Tuition reimbursement." Just like the professor had said.

He’d read that phrase a dozen times now, and each time, it felt like a little knot of tension in his chest tightened. His fingers traced the edge of the paper absently as his mind started to race. The words on the page blurred momentarily as Grian shifted in his seat. He was used to making decisions. He was used to being the responsible one. But this… this felt different. Too much was riding on this.

He looked at the contract again. ‘Assumption of risk.’ ‘Indemnification.’ ‘No claims’.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the paper. “They won’t take responsibility for anything. Not dangers. Not injuries. Nothing.” The thought of some unknown challenge, something they could change at will, gnawed at his gut. He couldn’t help but think of all the twisted legal loopholes in contracts that he’d seen referenced in those documentaries. The ones about people getting duped into signing away their lives for a chance at fame or fortune. Was this any different? Of course it wasn’t.

“Alright, here we go, Grian. Just hand it in, embarrass yourself on television, get the money, pay the tuition, get Jimmy’s life back on track. Simple.” He muttered to himself, pushing his glasses up his nose. His little brother didn’t deserve to live in his one-bedroom flat, eating the same stew Grian had made almost every day that week because he couldn’t afford to buy them meat. He should have been back home, with their parents, being young and reckless and not having to worry about whether his older brother was going to be able to pay his phone bill that week. 

If the competition was anything stupid or dangerous, he would make Jimmy back out. If they took away the prize, he would back out as well. No harm, no foul. 

He sighed and filed it in away in his bag.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Alright, attendance one last time before we head out! Gem?”

“Present!” a girl called out, the only one there Grian didn’t recognize. She had long, curly red hair braided neatly down her back, and light circular glasses that sat on the tip of her nose. She didn’t even look up from her phone, her fingers tapping away on the screen with practiced ease.

“Grian?”

“Present.”

“Jimmy?”

“Here.”

“Joel?”

“Huh? What?” The boy with rich brown hair and a dyed green streak in his bangs looked up from his conversation, his arm still around his girlfriend. “Oh, here.”

“Elizabeth?”

“It’s Lizzie,” the girl with pink hair corrected politely, her voice light but firm.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Professor Mumbo coughed awkwardly, tapping his pen on the clipboard. “Scar?”

Silence.

“Scar Goodtimes?”

Grian scanned the area, looking for the aforementioned student. The group began to fidget slightly, some checking their phones or adjusting their bags. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Grian saw him: a man half-jogging up to the group in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, suitcase tumbling haphazardly behind him.

“Aw, man, I’m so glad I’m not late! I had to drop off my kitty with my mom and I just couldn’t leave her cute little sad face!” Scar said, catching up to the group with his trademark smile, slightly out of breath but no less enthusiastic.

“Oh, well, that’s quite alright. Do try and let me know when you’re running behind, then. Don’t want anyone getting lost.” Mumbo chuckled, crossing his name off the list. He flipped the clipboard shut with a crisp motion. “Alright, then! Is everybody ready? Bags all accounted for? Snacks? Water?”

The group collectively murmured some affirmatives, though Grian was pretty sure Joel hadn’t even looked up to answer. Mumbo took the silence as a yes and began ushering everyone toward the minibus.

“We’ve got a full day of driving until we reach our hotel at 8. Then a couple more hours in the morning, okay? I assure you all that I passed my license exam with flying colors!”

The remark earned a few chuckles, though Grian wasn’t entirely reassured. He lingered at the back of the line, letting the others file onto the bus first.

The bus itself wasn’t exactly cramped, but it wasn’t a typical charter bus either. It was smaller, more like a glorified van with just enough seats for everyone, if they shared. Grian paused in the doorway, scanning the seating arrangements. The scene brought an unwelcome wave of deja vu, memories of scrambling for a spot on grade school field trips flashing uncomfortably in his mind.

Joel was up front, predictably next to Lizzie, who had claimed the window seat. Jimmy sat across from them, but as Grian approached, his little brother pointedly plopped his bag onto the seat beside him, a clear signal. Fine. Grian didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

Further back, the stranger, Gem, had sprawled across both seats with her legs stretched out, chatting animatedly on her phone. Grian’s eye twitched. If he were more confrontational, he might have told her off for hogging the space.

That left… sigh. Scar.

Scar seemed to notice Grian’s predicament immediately, standing up with a wide grin. “Here, you can have the window seat! I prefer the aisle anyway—don’t wanna climb over people if I gotta move!” He stepped into the aisle, gesturing with a salesman’s flourish.

Grian hesitated but relented, muttering a stiff “Thanks” as he slid into the seat. Secretly, he was grateful for the window seat. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before; he’d been too busy stressing and fretting over the competition and what his plans were if he didn’t win or it turned out to be a scam or they had to dress in embarrassing costumes or-

“So, you’re a senior too, huh?” Scar’s voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. “Why haven’t I seen you around? You know, I pride myself on knowing almost everyone in our class. Are you a transfer? A spy? Or, wait—are you just really, really shy and nervous?”

Grian felt his face heat up as he heard Jimmy cough to hide a laugh from the seat in front of them. Irritated, he kicked the back of Jimmy’s seat, drawing a surprised yelp from his brother.

“I—no! I’m not.” Grian huffed, his voice sharper than intended. “I’m not any of those things. I just… mind my own business.

“Yeah, but… hm, I guess you’re just really quiet! And you’re pretty small, so maybe I just didn’t see you!” Scar shrugged carelessly, irritatingly.

Grian scowled and glared out the window as the bus began to move. Everyone always called him short, though he was statistically and verifiably average height. He was sure Scar in all his six-foot glory got some amusement out of it- Jimmy sure did. The day his little brother realized he’d outgrown him was apparently the highlight of his life.

Jimmy… he hoped that idiot had packed properly, like Grian told him to. He wouldn’t let him check his bag, claiming that he wasn’t a child and knew how to pack himself for a trip. Grian found himself slipping an extra toothbrush, toothpaste, hand sanitizer and deodorant into his bag anyway. Just in case of emergencies. He didn’t mean to treat Jimmy like a child, but it was hard not to when his brother loved to act like one! 

He stared outside as the homes and commercial buildings gave way to rocky, dusty hills scattered with dark green brush. His head leaned against the window as his body settled into the calming, rocking motion of the wheels against pavement. He would sleep for a bit.

He’d be somewhere new when he woke up.

A/N:

For the rest of the fic, if there is a trigger, "Trigger Warning" will be written in the beginning notes, and the full list of trigger warnings will be at the End notes. Particularly graphic scenes will be separated with a line, and there will be another line at the end of the scene. SFW Summaries of graphic scenes will be at the end!

Updates every Friday

Constructive criticism, feedback, and advice is always appreciated <3

Actually having a tumblr account is odd for me, I usually lurk without an account. Let me know if I need to fix anything!

Previous

Next (Coming 12/13/24)

[fanpirex]

The Masks We Wear | Excerpt

This is not the first Jack Jeanne drabble I've written, but this was the one that made me stop and think afterwards. I started it because I love when Sou is confident, but it went in a different direction than I expected - similar to his route in fact! So I've added a little note at the end (to avoid potential spoilers) that kind of analyses the relationship between Kisa and Sou. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Rehearsals for the fall performance were going well. With Neji-senpai happy to rewrite the Order of Shadows, Kisa was finding it much easier to discover who Charles really was.

Sou-chan was blossoming before her eyes too, after months of small roles and stymied fulfilment. She was so relieved to see him jump into Figaro and be recognised for his talent, so proud of every improvement he made in class to the approval of their senpais.

Their secret rehearsals were going even better. The twins were shaping up to be dastardly villains with plenty of backstory and emotion to fill in the cracks. She loved exploring the characters with Sou-chan. It took her right back to childhood, to those glorious days of playing pretend with him and Tsuki-nii.

Aside from her brother's absence, she truly was living her dream.

"Kisa-chan!"

She stopped, turning to smile at Sou-chan as he caught up to her in the hallway.

His bright expression and cheery voice were a welcome addition to the otherwise quiet walk. Later, when they practised alone in his dorm, this disposition melted away into the cunning Figaro. His voice deepened, his cheeks relaxed into a faux smile and his eyes cooled.

The way he shed himself always sparked something deep within her. She took great delight in joining him, sinking into Charles and the enthralling chaos of the twins.

The part of Kisa that remained, buried in the back of her mind, acknowledged that she could only do this because she felt so comfortable with him. She knew that she could let down her walls and be whomever she wanted to be, and that he would keep her safe.

She hadn't expected him to be at Univeil, after years of living apart and once giving up on her own dream. That he was here, acting so closely with her, was a blessing she tried hard not to take for granted. She was sure her experience in Quartz would have been very different without him.

Her days felt rich with excitement and challenge in equal parts. Each play had been a learning experience and sometimes the pressure had built to the point of bursting. Sou-chan had gone through his own difficulties, particularly the initial casting call for this play. Still, they had always come together in the end. His kindness was a blessing. Just seeing him in class gave her the assurance that things would be all right.

They'd been able to relax a little over summer, and she'd had the thought then that no matter how overwhelmed she felt, he would be there to steady her. 

Having to hide her gender and dull down certain mannerisms could be exhausting at the best of times. In contrast, standing opposite Sou-chan as Figaro and Charles bantered, this felt like a release. 

Her tension was gone, she realised, and she was able to just be.

The night before the performance, Soshiro got into bed with a huge grin on his face.

Charles was exactly as he'd imagined him. Kisa-chan had been so in tune with the character today and he couldn't be more pleased. Though she'd thanked him for his help, he knew it wasn’t necessary - Kisa-chan was extraordinary and he'd no doubt that she would have achieved this level of development regardless. He was just happy he could be there to see it; the only one to see it, until they went on stage tomorrow.

When they'd been testing ideas out with Fumi-san, he had admittedly been a bit disappointed that her suggestion was to turn their roles into siblings.

He knew not to view it as a reflection of how Kisa-chan saw the two of them as individuals. The twins' relationship was integral to their characters and created an entertaining and complex dynamic. Now, after so many rehearsals, nothing else made sense in its place. As always, she had been thinking of how to better the performance, and he admired her direction and intuition.

Still, the thought nagged at him. Would she have preferred acting alongside Suzu-kun? Soshiro had enough confidence to say he was the better fit for Figaro, considering their acting strengths. But maybe Jean Jose had the potential to be a more interesting counterpart to Charles. Maybe Kisa-chan thought Suzu-kun was a better partner.

His chest felt tight and he tried to ignore the insecurities, settling into his mattress. At the very least, Figaro had always been his role and now Charles was perfected for the script. They would surely manage to spur on Fumi-san.

All those times of playing pretend as children were finally coming to fruition. But now, older and more experienced, he understood what his purpose was. He was determined to support Kisa-chan tomorrow and give his all to make her shine. He couldn't think of a better reason for being here.

This drabble was a really interesting dive into Sou's character for me. I realised after writing two thirds of it that his insecurity when around Kisa was in direct opposition to how secure she felt around him. I went back and added a little more with that in mind.

I think the seeds of his obsession with her can be seen in the latter half. And though I would like to add more dialogue if I posted this properly or continued it, I think the lack of Kisa talking here kinda mirrors the lack of agency she has when put on a pedestal by Sou. Let me know what you think!

[elizais]

elizai what do you think about the book cover of no longer human? the pink one with the black silhouette?

ARgh thank you for sending this!! one thing everyone will come to learn about me is i love analysing this type of stuff.

also i giggle when i see the cover because one time in an english lesson like 2 years ago my teacher was yapping on about how book covers have to reflect the mood of the book and she said, "for example, you won't have a sad book with a hot pink cover." and i had no longer human on my desk and she had read it bcs she runs my school's library and she bought it for me and it was my moment to shine by proving her WRONG!! she is my bff though

okay i'll do it now!

no real spoilers, i just talk about how the MC feels but if u have watched bsd with your eyes open and know a little about dazai you will get the jist of what i'm talking about.

OKAY! initially, you need to state the obvious. which is it is a human-like black figure on a hot pink background. that is essentially it. but !!! if u saw what i said about like those bsd scenes on that one reblog you know i love colour symbolism!!

so: hot pink: "playful, sociable, optimism, amusing/humorous" and if you have read the book, you know that yozo oba takes up a personality of entertaining others through his actions during his school days. attempting to be a "class clown" type. i don't own a copy of the book but if i did i would pull up quotes TRUST!!

so (younger) yozo does seem to represent these characteristics - maybe not optimism but that is up to reader's interpretation in my opinion.

but the interesting part of the cover is the figure. it takes the shape of a person, roughly at least, yet isn't defined enough. its torso is quite large in proportion to the head, the shoulders curve too easily..

and the title is "no longer human", and yozo doesn't feel human. if you are only familiar with fictional dazai, he is loosely based off of yozo oba. once you read the book, you will pick up similarities between them consistently.

but yozo doesn't feel human, so that figure on the front is just that. a figure, a symbol of the emptiness he feels inside. he knows that physically he is human, which is why as a consumer we can see that the figure resembles something like us, but he doesn't let his soul feel that way.

possibly, the torso is so disproportionate compared to the head because he is harbouring the loneliness, longing and the rest of his dull emotions within.

may i also add, we can just see these recognisable parts of a human which is how yozo feels. you can tell he is a human physically but not emotionally. as an audience, you do not form any attachment to the person on the cover as there just.. isn't much to see? which is why whoever designed it done such a good job with it. granted, i am probably thinking about this much more than they did but it is truly a fantastic cover.

as i write this, i am kicking myself for not having a copy of the book with me because i would be able to write much more for you! i do love writing analyses, so if people ask i would be more than happy to write some more if i am confident enough in them. but i think i mostly like to do them because i talk a lot and can talk about anything.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3.9K

Gavin woke up to the sound of his neighbour screaming outside. Judging by the shrill tones, it was a woman desperately trying to herd her children off to a dance class. They were late, as she laboured repeatedly, much to the vocal chagrin of her spawn. He groaned, grabbing his pillow and clutching it over his head. 

A chorus of low hums came from the side of his bed, and Gavin craned himself over to find the source. It was his phone, half concealed under a pile of clothes. Making a concerted effort not to tip over, he deftly retrieved the device. The exertion caused his jeans to tense, which made him painfully aware that he was still dressed from the night before.

After wiping a film of sweat from his brow, he fumbled dozily with the screen, struggling with the passcode. The fact it had gone off at all meant it was charged - which was fortunate. Less fortunate was the news that illuminated his screen.

It was 11:43am.

Gavin shot up but immediately regretted it - as a sudden wave of nausea hit him. With his head flopped on the pillow, he attempted to steel himself with a long, laboured breath. The man recalled very little of the night before, but if his queasy delirium was anything to go by, he'd certainly had a good time. As such, he tried not to dwell on the guilt of missing yet another morning run. Or failing to feed his cat at a reasonable hour. 

With the screaming match outside complete, Gavin allowed his wrist to go limp, and his phone dropped to his chest with a dull thud. He entertained the idea of trying to sleep just a bit longer. At least until the worst of his dizziness had subsided.

A new notification sent unpleasant vibrations shooting through his sternum. He tried to ignore the wayward shake, but the sensations kept coming. Glowering at the offending device, he frustratedly turned it over and found a new series of messages that had joined the procession of unread notifications:

 

Actually Decent (9) 

[11:45 am] Gav

[11:45 am] hellooooo

[11:45 am] u alive?

[11:46 am] text me back

 

After another shaky attempt, the man succeeded in unlocking his phone. While he'd intended on responding to Tina, if only to appease her demand, he was promptly derailed. He stared frozen at the screen as his heart pumped ferociously.  

 

Robo Prick

[2:55am] u have a nice smile. and a nice ass.

 

He didn't read anything else, with his eyes focused despairingly on that one damning passage. Mortified beyond belief, he began to rack his brain on how to salvage the situation. Perhaps he could convince the android that it had been a joke. Or claim that the message had been intended for someone else - 

Like Hell. Who else could it have been for? 

Holding his breath, he prepared himself for some requisite damage control. That was when he noticed the word at the beginning of the message. One that single-handedly preserved his dignity: 

 

(Draft) 

 

"Thank fuck”, Gavin whispered, releasing the breath that he had been holding. He feverishly deleted the message before it could yield any consequence.  

With the desire to release his mounting tension (and to expunge the sweat soaking his clothes), Gavin concluded it was time for a shower. Phone in hand, he hoisted himself from his bed and plodded his way out of the bedroom. Tiffany, who had been resting on the sofa, glared at his intrusion. She sprung herself from the cushions and haughtily marched to the kitchen. A series of long, demanding yowls followed. 

"Cool your tits…" He pleaded, holding his head "I'll feed ya soon. Promise."

Securing himself in his bathroom, the man stripped himself of his clothes, to which a pungent odour abruptly followed. It was the penultimate blend of poor life choices. A mixture of booze, sweat and cigarettes. Leaning over his bath to adjust the faucet, a lukewarm flow trickled pitifully from the fixture above. Slipping from his boxers, he was about to climb in when a vibration rattled the sink. 

He groaned. It was probably Tina again.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Gavin scrolled through his notifications. He did owe his friend some form of response. After all, if it wasn't for her, he probably would have spent the night in a bush. 

 

Actually Decent 

You:

still alive

didnt choke on my puke

thanks

 

It wasn't until Gavin replied that he realised the most recent notification had not, in fact, been from Tina. There was a newcomer to his inbox, and given the near miss earlier, it was probably the last person he wanted to hear from:

 

Robo-Prick 

[11:57 am] Detective Reed. I have made a breakthrough in the case. Please let me know when you have received this message so we can discuss things further - Model RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 – 87.

Gavin grimaced at the needless formality, setting the phone back on the sink without any intention of replying. That was until another, more pressing, message popped up on the thread. 

 

Robo-Prick (2)

[11:58 am] I would like to meet in person to discuss this, should you be available. Please let me know - Model RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 – 87.

"Son of a bitch”, He cursed under his breath, realising that Nines was not about to let this go. 

 

You: 

its my day off nines. cant it wait until monday?

also you don't need to sign your messages. i know who you are, jackass. 

 

Robo-Prick: 

You will want to hear this. I assure you, I won't take up much of your time. 

I am messaging you from my internal hub. I will try deactivating the signature, but I cannot guarantee success. 

 

You: 

those last two messages didnt have signatures. 

you know what you're doing. stop fucking with me. 

 

Robo-Prick: It would appear I have succeeded. How fortunate. 

 

Gavin slammed the phone down, in no mood to indulge his partner further. He had gotten his message across, and that was more than enough. 

Retrieving a nearby bottle of shower gel, he finally moved into the shower. Lathering himself from head to toe, he allowed the water to do the rest. As bubbles and suds trickled from his skin, he was lulled by the soft dripping of water - to which he closed his eyes. Not ready to face the burden of his neglected responsibilities, Gavin stood there, enjoying the peace, until the water turned cold. 

Turning off the faucet and leaving the bath, he grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and patted himself dry. Towel slung loosely around his waist, He moved to the next pitstop in his hungover journey.

In the kitchen, Tiffany was sat by her food bowl, glaring into it apprehensively. Gavin opened the cat food cupboard and was struck by another unpleasant violent headrush. The pain and dizziness overwhelmed him as he struggled to maintain stability. 

"Goddammit."

Gavin closed his eyes, desperate to quell the unpleasant rocking. The cat food was forgotten, his mind preoccupied with a new, more pressing objective. Finding some painkillers. Shambling his way through his cabinets, he grappled with a myriad of cans and noodle packets - but failed to find his desired relief. Grunting frustratedly, he leant his head against the cabinet door, hoping the action may alleviate some pressure from his aching skull. 

Not helping matters was the sound of light but incessant tapping on his kitchen window. 

He reasoned it must be pigeons. They could often be found skulking around on the building's fire escape. Just as he was about to shoo them away, his eyes caught a glimpse of something else. A tall, looming figure on his balcony. Staring in with piercing grey eyes. 

"What the fuck -" the detective yelped, reaching instinctively for a gun that wasn't holstered. With footing lost, he tumbled backwards and was stopped by the fold-out table propped against the wall. As he came down from the sudden shock of adrenaline, his eyes started to focus on his would-be intruder. As the features came together, he felt relief - as well as a strong sense of resentment.   

Nines tapped the glass once again before gesturing to the balcony door. Its lips were moving, but no words could be heard through the thick glazing of the windows. With flustered exacerbation, Gavin pushed himself away from his plastic support. Unlocking the balcony door, he violently swung it open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Good afternoon, Detective", Nines responded with flawless composure. It maintained an invasive level of eye contact - much to Gavin's visible displeasure - when its gaze began to trail downwards. Its lip twitched, and its expression shifted between intrigue and amusement. "You are looking well."

"No, seriously, what are you doing?" Gavin repeated. The cold breeze outside assaulted his skin, and he tried to ward off his shivers with a gentle shuffle of his feet. "If this is about work, I swear to god, I'm pushing you off this building. Because I already said no. I don't want to hear it."   

"I never received a 'no'", Nines corrected. "You asked if it could wait until Monday. I concluded that it could not - and informed you as such. Did you not receive my message?" 

"I stopped reading your messages, dipshit. They were pissing me off -

Why didn't you knock on my door? Instead of scaling the fire escape like a goddamn lunatic?" 

"I tried the door, but you were not answering." 

"I was in the fucking shower." The detective leant against the doorframe, exhaling heavily. "You could have waited a minute." 

"I waited several minutes", Nines retorted, calmly straightening its back. "Nonetheless, now that I am here, you may as well let me inside." 

"Are you -" Gavin cut himself off, sighing frustratedly. "Another Human Tip: You can't just show up at somebody's house without their permission. For all you know, I might have been busy. Like, I dunno, cranking one out. You really want to walk in on that?" 

Nines looked on with a blank expression, to which Gavin immediately regretted his words. Of course, it would be incapable of grappling with such a fundamentally 'human' concept. He was doubtful the machine had ever experienced anything akin to lust or desire, let alone the need for release - 

"I am perfectly aware of human fondness for self-stimulation" The android looked him up and down again before subtly tilting its head. "Truthfully, there are less appealing things I can think of seeing." 

It was Gavin's turn to stall. 

Of Nines' various tricks and skills, catching him by surprise was undoubtedly one of them . If it wasn't for the quintessentially 'robotic' way with which it had phrased the statement, he might have mistaken the words for some surreal attempt at flirting. 

While it sought to portray an air of disinterest, there was something akin to a self-aware glimmer in Nines' eyes. Like it knew precisely what it was doing. As the detective had effectively admitted to his own pent-up sexual frustrations, he could only assume that his partner was now seeking to exploit this. Yet another excuse to exert 'superiority'. 

"I'll let you in -" Gavin began, readjusting his towel in hidden embarrassment "- but only because I don't want my neighbours to think I'm being robbed." 

With a palpable lack of enthusiasm, he led Nines into his home. It settled itself on a nearby chair, waiting patiently. Tiffany grew increasingly vocal in her demands to be fed, and Gavin was ready to comply. He returned to the counter, tearing the corner of the abandoned food pouch and immediately heaved at the putrid smell. 

"Are you alright, Detective?" Nines asked, observing from the sidelines. 

"Fuck off."

"I would be happy to offer my assistance." 

"I said fuck off ", He set Tiffany's food bowl on the side, grimacing as he attempted to squeeze the contents from the pouch. The texture stopped him as he heaved again, more violently, and dropped the packaging onto the counter.

At this point, Tiffany had lost patience, deciding to stroll around the kitchen. Gavin knew that one of her favourite spots was under the folded table. Where Nines was currently sitting. The flick of a tail caught his attention, and he turned around to see his partner staring intently. Its hands remained balled into fists until a couple of fingers started to release. Extending down, the android attempted to brush the top of her fur. 

"Don't", Gavin warned. "I've already told you. If you touch her, she'll -" 

A hand ran across Tiffany's back, and she let out a rumbling purr. No bites or scratches were exchanged, nor was Thirium shed on the kitchen floor. Both feline and machine looked equally pleased, while Gavin was caught between utter bewilderment and betrayal. 

You fluffy traitor. 

Nines looked up, smiling gently. "It would appear your cat likes me, Detective Reed."

We'll see about that. 

After successfully depositing the food, Gavin set the bowl on the floor, and Tiffany quickly noticed. With perked eyes, she deserted her new friend without hesitation. He couldn't help but chuckle at how the Nines' expression immediately withered. 

"That's cats for you," He said, offering a shrug of commiseration. "Fickle bastards."  

With his task complete, the man was keen to take a rest. Even if 'rest' meant sitting with Nines and listening to its stilted ramblings. He was about to do so when his headache halted him once again. His vision lost focus and filled with spots as he clung to the counter's edge. The pain had grown impossible to ignore, and his nausea had only worsened. Feeling sorry for himself, he leant over his sink and groaned.

"You appear to be in physical distress", Nines said. "Are you in pain?"

"I'm hungover, dipshit." 

 Nines nodded its head, showing that it understood, before gesturing to the cabinet above the bedraggled man. "Painkillers are on the top shelf. Behind the mugs."

Gavin shot it a disparaging look. Having found nothing on the shelf above, he could only assume that the android enjoyed watching him struggle. "You got x-ray vision?" 

"Not as such. It is a simple observation." 

Despite reservations, Gavin was reaching a physical breaking point. He would do just about anything to quell the pressure in his head. Even if it meant complying with his know-it-all work partner. 

As he moved the mugs aside, he was greeted with one of his all-time favourites. It was adorned in smileys, with 'No. 1 Cat Mom' written in bold, blocky letters. It had been a gift from Tina, made during a pottery class. While the handle was lopsided and the paint was splotched, Gavin appreciated it greatly. Although he would deny this if questioned. 

The painkillers were tucked away in the left-hand corner of the shelf, just as Nines promised. Convinced that the bottle had not been visible from its current position, he shot it an accusing look. "How did you know this was here?" 

"I noticed it earlier when you were searching your cabinets. I'm surprised you didn't as well."

"Oh, what, when you were creeping through my window?" Gavin removed the cap from the painkillers and poured himself a glass of water. "Didn't think 'Peeping Tom' was one of your features."  

Nines did not appreciate the suggestion. Its eyes darted away defensively, and its complexion darkened, tinged with blue. "Please do not flatter yourself. I would have liked to have made my presence known sooner, but I was determining the most opportune time. I did not wish to scare you."

"Well, that was a bust - because you scared the shit out of me." 

Its LED started to blink, flickering red before returning to normal. "I apologise." 

At that moment, Gavin saw something deeply resemblant to the android's predecessor. Unlike Connor, however, the sharpness of Nines' features did not lend themselves well to sympathetic softness. Its eyes were too intense to be large or pleading, and its jaw remained tensed in hidden defiance. 

"Sorry, Nines, but the 'kicked puppy' look really doesn't work for you", He quipped, rolling his eyes. "Give it a rest. You look constipated." 

Nines' expression returned to normal, betraying no hint of the vulnerability it had shown just seconds prior. 

"Look, as disappointing as this might be, towel time is over. I'm freezing my balls off" Gavin rubbed his hands, struggling with the chill that had lingered from the opened balcony. "While I'm gone, don't touch anything. Including my cat. Got it?" 

Ultimately, Gavin was forced to leave Nines unattended longer than desired. It was a challenge to find anything resembling clean clothes in the steaming trash heap he called his bedroom. In the end, a 'sniff test' guided him through, and he dressed himself in lounge shorts and a faded t-shirt. The sooner he got Nines out of his apartment, the sooner he could do something productive - like laundry. 

As he returned to the kitchen, there was a strong, earthy aroma wafting from the doorway. Clearly, Nines had decided to ignore his simple request. Gavin stomped into the room with a deep scowl marring his features. "What part of 'don't touch anything' did you not understand?" 

Nines looked up from his coffee machine with a steaming mug in hand. "I realise that my intrusion today was somewhat callous. Given your fondness for caffeinated drinks, I thought making one would show appreciation for how you didn't turn me away." 

Gavin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was really starting to struggle with his partner's constant mood swings. "Last week, you would have fed me to lions if it got you a lead, and now you're making me coffee. Has Connor been giving you more of your kiss-ass lessons?" 

"...While I was bestowed with improved skills in deduction and combat, RK800 possesses a more advanced social protocol. I have made it clear that I have no interest in adjusting my behaviour. Nonetheless, he has provided some…guidance on how I may improve my working relationships." 

While keeping his guard up, Gavin accepted the android's peace offering. Receiving the mug, he secretly indulged in its inviting heat and smell. "Provided this coffee doesn't taste like shit, you can tell him they're working."

They sat together at the table, and Gavin propped his elbow up, resting his head on his palm. "You've kept me in suspense long enough. So, what was this massive breakthrough that couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?" 

Nines perked up, seeming pleased that its partner was no longer stalling things. Reaching into its CyberLife jacket, it pulled out a folded piece of paper and set it on the table. It had started to speak before the detective could ask what it was. "Do you recall when I scanned Mr Scott's phone? Back at the electronics store?" 

Gavin snorted, fondly recalling the mortified look on Mikey's large, pug-like face. "I remember that you caught him watching porn."

"I wouldn't have said that the material had constituted pornography. It appeared to be a compilation video of women in bikinis - this was not the only thing I discovered." Nines tapped the paper's surface, inviting his partner to take a look. "My scan revealed that Mr Scott had been engaging in several concerning online activities. I have since done some further research and printed a screenshot for reference." 

Unfurling the paper, Gavin wasn't entirely sure what to expect. However, he was almost disappointed when he was finally about to take a look. It seemed pretty tame. A text-based message board spouting aggressive anti-android sentiments. While littered with slurs and grammatical errors, the vast sum of the posts could be surmised as rehashes of the same tired arguments. How androids were the downfall of society and needed to be destroyed.

"Look, I'm not saying this stuff is nice, Nines - but it really isn't that bad." Gavin looked up from the paper, raising his eyebrows. "Besides, what's it got to do with the case?" 

Nines met his doubt with stern insistence, motioning its hand, "Turn the page." 

Gavin did as instructed - and then, he saw it. A profoundly disturbing and sinister twist to an otherwise innocuous forum thread. There were dozens of photos of dismantled - or otherwise mutilated - androids. He recognised many images from their own criminal database. Some were photos that had been released to the press, while others were not. 

Unsurprisingly, the responses to these images were gleefully morbid. Celebrating the senseless brutality of the acts that had been committed.

 

** [NSFW] Robot slut gets skull bashed in with a brick**

 

> lol. serves it right. plastic whore. 

>> This one is pretty good, but it would be better if you could see its face. I love it when they cry. 

>>> Very nice. Saving this for later. 

 

The comments only got worse, devolving into increasingly violent and sexual depravity. It left a bitter taste in Gavin's mouth, and he had to stop reading. 

"This one is ours. The MJ100."

"They're all ours, Detective", Nines said gravely. "The HR400 is featured too, as well as all other crimes that could be linked with our investigation - 

This is more than just an innocuous hate forum. It is an organised group operating outside of Detroit. Most, if not all, of these pictures depict locally-based crimes. There are also discussions alluding to local meet-ups and events." 

Gavin looked down at the page, squinting in confusion. "...I don't see anything like that."

"Such posts appear to be procedurally deleted. No doubt for security reasons" Nines also glanced down at the paper before pointing its finger to a specific exchange. "Some evidence remains, however. Look here": 

 

> bacon at cedars + me. organic and synth

 

Gavin took a moment to process the words when his eyes blew wide in realisation. Cedars Motel and Mikey's Electronics. From this, there were no points for guessing who 'bacon' might be. 

 

>> What did they want?

>>> Tlla ha JSOX. ZS J

 

"Meet at CLHQ. SL C" Nines translated, barely sparing a glance from the paper. "It is a code within a code. Arrangements to meet in person." 

"Son of a bitch”, The detective hissed, half-standing up from his chair. "Were you able to find any private chat logs? Or trace where these messages came from?" 

"Unfortunately not", It lamented. "The forum appears to operate on a largely anonymous basis. Private chats are unavailable, and while usernames can be edited, most appear procedurally generated. Whoever this individual is, they have been careful to cover their tracks. I was unable to pinpoint their location." 

"That fucker Mikey has a lot to answer for" Gavin was growing increasingly heated, clutching the end of the table. "I say we go back down there and beat it out of him." 

"Tempting as that may be, I suggest we discuss matters with Captain Fowler first. Mr Scott is hiding something, and I believe a private interrogation may prove invaluable." 

"Gotta admit Nines. You didn't disappoint. This is a solid fucking lead. Nice, uh - ", Gavin stalled, his words cut off by an unpleasant heat rising in his throat. He held his breath, willing away the inevitable, but with little success. "I'm gonna be sick." 

Nines stood up. Judging by its face, it was less than enamoured by the prospect of vomit. Smoothing out the wrinkles in its dress pants, it gave him a curt nod. "I'll see myself out. Thank you for your time, Detective. I trust you will be well enough to join me tomorrow." 

Gavin was unable to respond, making a dash for the bathroom, hand clutched to his mouth.

[oathshxker]

hello my beebs, tis i, lyna (she/her, 25+, est) here with my beautiful brain child i am SO EXCITED FOR named sura. he's a noble in the fiendish courts (though he doesn't really wanna be) and takes delight in corrupting people's hearts and souls. his strategy is normally to appeal to the deadly sin someone is weak to and exploit it in hopes that when they die they go to hell and become infernal like him. he's quite evil, and i'm very excited to pen such a devilishly devious muse. below the cut is his bio, and i have some premade open plots for him here if you're interesed! please like this for plotting! i'll message you, or you can add me on discord: @plumboss!

⸺ ✧˖° Introducing the noble lord sura, a cunning DEVIL with a fondness of music and poetry. Their admirers endlessly praise them for their skills as a charismatic BARD & their work as the court of flames' INFERNAL ARCHIVIST. On the contrary; their rivals will warn you of their tendency to be manipulative and malicious. ⦁ faceclaim: park seonghwa, ateez . mun: lyna, she/her.

THE DEVIL IN ME

“⸺ ✧˖° 

NAME: [classified] NICKNAMES/ALIAS: sura GENDER: male PRONOUNS: he/him BIRTHDAY: unknown AGE: stopped counting after 300 SPECIES: fiend - devil  SEXUALITY: chaotic bisexual CURRENT LOCATION: jeosung, koryo OCCUPATION: nobleman and scholar of infernal history ETHNICITY: infernal NATIONALITY: koryaan RELIGION: demonic SOCIAL CLASS: nobility ADVENTURE CLASS: bard - college of whispers

FACECLAIM: ateez seonghwa EYE COLOR: red [when not glamoured] HAIR COLOR: black HAIR TYPE: straight BODY TYPE: lean athletic HEIGHT: 6’1” WEIGHT: 170 lbs SCENT: eau d’avernus TATTOOS: none PIERCINGS: ears and tongue SCARS: one long scar down the side of his neck, apparent scars around his horns from when they grew in

bullets:

born in avernus, was quickly summoned to jeosung by his family to avoid the blood war front lines 

was raised in jeosung as part of the nobility, with distant blood ties to one of the archdevils of the nine hells serving as his claim to his title

unlike some of his brothers, sisters and cousins, sura never took to any one skill that he was supremely proficient at, but was rather skilled in most things he tried, and therefore ended up training as a bard

he is proficient with many instruments, his favored instruments being the flute and the lute

can pretty much talk his way out of anything or convince people he is more capable than he actually is

chose the name ‘sura’ for himself as an alias to keep his real name a secret, though somewhere in the nine hells there exists half a stone tablet with part of his real name recorded on it in infernal. the other half is in his possession and locked away for safe keeping.

found himself enjoying his studies more than combat and spell casting, and so he decided to make a profession out of his learned knowledge and become a scholar and tutor

he began forming an archive of infernal texts he safeguards in his estate as part of his scholarly duties

he visits court, sure, but it’s a little dull for his tastes, though he does his best to make the most of it and have his fun, either through conversation or making a little impromptu performance

he uses his tutoring as a way to lure in potentials for becoming fiends, using his role as a mentor to influence human souls so that they might go to hell upon death and become devils themselves

his methods usually include pushing someone towards acting on the deadly sin they’re most guilty of and then appearing as an ally when their sinful acts blow up in their face

morals are clearly corrupt, his main goal is to avoid his name being discovered since he enjoys controlling others, rather than them controlling him

is more so guilty of apathy and boredom rather than selfishness, he toys with people to entertain himself more than anything

will always try to appear as a friend rather than a foe, this is his way

dresses in the finest, trendiest [and most revealing] clothing

he’s all about having fun really