#this is my first attempt so far trying to make something custom

[voxelmoss]

something a little different ^^

[mayakern]

I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones. 

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[lucabyte]

Finally: The NoHats AU doodles. Plus some sprite edits.

Usually I'd let things speak for themselves and keep my chattering in the tags, but I'll ramble about my context thoughts...

So. First of all here's a link (x) to the Nohats Origin Post for those coming in and going ????.

Anyway. These doodles are not in any obvious chronological order, though Loop going from pilfered bandolier (my headcanon for how Siffrin has all those pockets) -> custom outfit made by Isabeau, is supposed to generally denote 'just after the ending' -> 'a few months down the line'.

And speaking of, Design & Characterisation notes:

Overall: NoHats is suppooooosed to have the range to not just be ULTIMATE MISERY ALL THE TIME (but if you're a major whump/angst fan. go fucking nuts.) so these are supposed to be. The steps toward overcoming and living with grief but. The Misery Is Kind Of The Punchiest Part.... Oops....

Mirabelle: Taking the lead, continuing to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. In the game proper she's already shown to, while yes, be emotionally fragile at times, be prone to trying to hold the team together. I feel she'd do the same here. It also would help that she'd presumably be medicated again? But I can't imagine her chosen-one anxieities would be super ailed by the death of her friend. I wanted to try and give her more differences? She follows the change belief after all and is thus liable to switch up her style in general... But I didn't have a strong vision for this, so. The ball is in anyone's court. Her design changes here are keeping one of Sif's safety pins a la qpr bonding earring, and has the bell pendant at Loop's (oddly pushy) suggestion.

Isabeau: Taking it. Badly. Depression mullet and beard in tow. However, you best believe he is trying real badly to hide it. Loop very much does not reveal their identity to him because What The Fuck Would That Even Do. That's Scary. but they do try to comfort him while mentally regarding him "off limits". Backs themselves into some very unfortunate corners by alluding to their unfulfilled relationship with their Fighter as a point of common ground. I don't imagine this would go super great when recontextualised later after Loop is inevitably found out. Just in general oh good god what the fuck. this is like a radioactive pit of survivor's guilt.

Bonnie: Taking it probably The Worst. This is a child. Who was already feeling guilt. This is who everyone else is trying to keep it together for. Mirabelle and Isabeau would likely be putting up far less of a front without Bonnie around. They take the hat and take on Pocket Duty. They also have slightly more sif-y hairstyle but... Don't worry about it. They'd have Nille to fall back on once she's picked back up, and Loop almost certainly attempts to redouble efforts on making them feel better but seeing as how closed-off Bonnie can already be, it'd likely be difficult. However they would probably take Loop's identity reveal best...?

Odile: Odile's design.... ! Does not seem to have changed? How odd! Well. I'm sure she's dealing with things in a regular and non-cloistered manner. I already think that a regular Postcanon Activity for Odile could be her finding out about the potential for sif/loop to translate books and thus Knowledge in their native tongue assuming that ability sticks around postgame. Something something culture can never truly be wiped out etc etc. But putting it in this context. Makes it more desperate, more of a deflection for something else.

Loop: Helpful Loop. Well. They win! I feel like the entirety of ISAT being about Siffrin's mental state means I don't need to spill much ink here? You get it I think. I can't outdo the source material man. Anyway I imagine Loop is given clothes by Isabeau before they know who they are, but after they've become genuine friends. The outfit is in genuineness, on both sides from Loop and Isa, in having the cloak be a nod in respect to Siffrin, since Loop's "shared culture" would have to come up vis a vis cultural funerary traditions. Hard to avoid divulging that one...

[quiet-out-there]

Please

summary: When Finnick notices how the reader's drink has been spiked with sex pollen at one of President Snows Balls, he and Peeta make a plan to save her from the special services the victors sometimes provide for the capitol. Finnick causes a distraction, while Peeta makes sure to take the reader away to safety, only the plan doesn’t go accordingly, and ends up with a sex crazed reader stuck on a closet.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slight dubious consent, fingering, lots of praise, dom!Peeta??, reader under sex pollen

Notes: This is my first attempt at a shortfic about Peeta Mellark, as I have been quite obsessed with him lately This story is a short fic with little to no plot, so, enjoy the smut ;) For any weird grammar mistake, feel free to correct me for as inglish isn't my first lenguage!

Word count: 6.6k

Giff: @xiaolanhua

Finnick cursed out loud, grabbing the attention of some of the most important and exclusive people in Panem who were nearby. They began to chuckle and whisper among themselves in return, clearly enjoying the sudden outburst of District’s four beloved victor. Peeta, on the other hand, quickly realized something was wrong, politely ending the conversation with an all too eager sponsor who was in the midst of trying to convince him to go back to her room together. She was old, caked with so much makeup her features were almost unrecognizable. Staring at her for too long made Peeta feel uneasy, as if he were in a fever dream, where everything was washed in an eerie distortion, almost normal but not quite. 

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he said once he got to Finnick’s side, standing beside one of the absurdly food collapsed tables at one of the ballrooms corners. He was holding a glass filled with sweet smelling liquor, his hand so tightly wrapped around it his knuckles were turning white. Peeta was sure it was going to burst into pieces in just a matter of seconds, so he quickly reached for Finnick’s hand, surprised to find little to no resistance as he took the glass away and set it on the table. The motion seemed to snap Finnick out of whatever trance he had been in, blinking at Peeta as if he were just now assessing his presence there.

“What?” was all he could manage to say, his eyes returning their focus to something far away, the feather of a muscle twitching as he grounded his jaw.

“What's wrong?” Peeta pushed, following the man's gaze in an attempt to understand what he was seeing that was making him so mad. Finnick had a temper, Peeta knew that, but it was always tightly concealed in that calm and easy-going facade he portrayed, his armor against everything. It took quite an effort to make him lose his composure.

“(y/n)” He answered, voice made of steel. Peeta frowned, eyes desperately trying to find what was going on, his chest tightening at the mention of your name, “They dosed her drink with an aphrodisiac powder.”

Peeta’s whole body froze, his eyes snapping back to the man beside him. 

“What do you mean aphrodisiac powder, what the hell even is that?”

But Peeta could already imagine what it meant, what they were doing it for. Anger rose in his blood like fire, pumping into his heart, beating so fast it was starting to make it hard for him to breathe -

“Finnick” He managed to get out, hand coming up to grab the man’s arm, turning him to face him.

“I recognized this man talking to Snow earlier” Finnick began, his eyes closing as one of his hands came to massage his temple, as if a piercing headache was making it hard for him to think “He is the one who arranges the customers for-,” he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to meet Peeta's wide ones “ the special services from the victors the capitol sometimes provides”

His stomach churned in a way that threatened to make Peeta vomit every expensive item of food he had ingested tonight, right on the pristine marble floor. He knew exactly what Finnick was talking about. Haymitch had told him about this business Snow ran, a way for him to further control the victors, make them pay for whatever rule breaking he deemed was done on their game, threatening their family’s life as a cost of it. But (y/n) had won fair, she had outsmarted the players, not the capitol, she didn't deserve this, she-

“I have been watching this man all evening, analyzing his moves, trying to figure out who Snow had sold to him,” Finnick continued, interrupting Peeta’s running thoughts. “It was easy enough to discover, with the way he has been practically stalking (y/n) all night.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips “But something is different this time. He hasn't come up to talk to her and she is completely oblivious to him, as if she doesn't know what Snow has done, as if she hasn't been warned what would happen if she denies”

Her family, massacred. Peeta swallowed, his throat painfully dry all of a sudden. 

“That’s when I noticed what he was doing” Finnick’s hands bawled into fists by his sides, his eyes returning to scan the room before returning to Peeta’s, “They are drugging her, filling her with aphrodisiac poison that will make her unable to think of anything more than sex. They are making her into a puppet so they can take advantage of her, avoiding the resistance, the threats, the compromise on her part.”

“That is sick” Peeta breathed out, feeling lightheaded and utterly disgusted.

“People here in the capitol are absolutely rotten” Finnick spat, “I have been a victim of that drug before. It is so potent, it makes it physically painful to deny sex, it forces the body to need it on a primal level, triggering an almost survival instinct.” 

Peeta cringed at the thought of Finnick, barely a teen, being a subject to all this.

“We have to do something, we have to save her” Peeta rushed through whispered words, his eyes looking around them in search of anyone who could be eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes” Finnick agreed, “But we must do it inconspicuously, or they could end up hurting her even more.” 

“What is your plan?” Peeta’s breathing eased a little, his chest loosening at the reminder of Finnick’s clever mind. 

“Once the effects of the drugs kick in, she will quickly excuse herself to the bathroom. There, I will intercept the man, distract him. Make a big scene if I must.” The ghost of a smirk pulled at Finnick’s lips at the thought, before it was quickly wiped away as he continued “You will find (y/n) and get her the hell out of here, but not to her room. They will be probably expecting her there” Peeta shuddered at the thought, nodding at Finnick.

“Where is she now?” Peeta inquired, his eyes returning to the crowd, unable to find the girl in question.

“Near Snow’s fountain, to the left side of the room. She is talking to a man with a neon green top hat.”

Peeta found you instantly then, the loud pounding of his heart in his ears drowning any other sound. You looked so beautiful, he couldn't help to notice, with your hair pulled away from your face in an elegant updo, filled with colored jewels that caught and reflected every light on the ball room, like a beacon. Your dress was made of black jewels as well, hugging every hill and dip of your body in an exquisite way, a slit on the side of your hip revealing the tan skin of your right leg. And your smile, so bright as you laughed at some joke the man before you had uttered, it took his breath away- until he realized how your chest was moving rapidly, as if the air entering your lungs wasn't enough, at how your skin was covered in a sheen of sweet, some stray away hairs curling around the nape of your neck and around your face, and at the way your hands had begun to tremble, hiding the away by clasping them tightly behind your back.

“It is starting,” Finnick commented, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself to move. Peeta did the same, struggling to calm his fast beating heart.

You offered the man another smile, this one polite, apologetic. The man dipped his head and moved out of your way, allowing you to begin moving into the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, towards the other side of the room, where the bathrooms were located. Finnick nodded at Peeta, signaling to start moving the same way as you. They got to there first, and Finnick leaned forward to whisper right on Peeta’s ear, in a gesture that seemed like a warm goodbye from a friend to the ignorant eye. 

“I will go for the man, you grab (y/n) and leave right away, don't waste time on explanations until you are both alone and safe.” 

Peeta nodded, clasping his back as reassurance. He could do this, he told himself, willing his body to calm down, to gather his anxious thoughts. 

Before Finnick finally pulled away, he added in a tense, almost somber tone, so lowly his words almost got forgotten among the chattering crowd.

“Do what you must to help her, she’ll be glad it was you and not someone else.”  

Peeta’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask what Finnick meant by that, he was already being swallowed by the crowd, disappearing among the vibrant colors, the moving bodies, the discordant music that made Peeta’s teeth greet in discomfort. 

Peeta moved onto the side of the bathroom door, acting as if his shoelace had been untied and crouching down to fix it, avoiding anyone starting a conversation with him that could complicate his inconspicuous escape. 

It only took a couple of minutes before he heard your voice,

“S-Sorry, excuse me please” You sounded breathless, words tight in your throat, as if the mere effort to get them out was painful. 

Peeta got up then, instantly identifying you making your way out of the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom. He walked up to you just as you took the door handle in your shaky hand, grabbing your wrist in a secure grip before pulling you along with him, without stopping to say anything. You gasped in shock, stumbling slightly over your feet before you could manage to keep up with his fast pace. You pulled at his hand in an attempt to be let go, but he ignored you, mind only focused on one thing-

The exit door, only a couple of steps away

 “Peeta!” you exclaimed as you finally recognized him, struggling to maintain a composure, smile wavering between a frown and a grimace of pain “What the fuck are you doing?” you whispered, feeling as though your vision was shaking, not being able to see people anymore, just shapes and colors merging together in a sickening spin-

You were going to throw up.

“I’m going to be sick” you pleaded, arm now falling limp on his firm grip, deciding to leave fate in his hands- unable to do anything to resist, and knowing deep down Peeta would never hurt you.

Peeta’s heart squeezed on his chest as he heard you, and he opened his mouth to explain -what? he did not know- anything to make you feel better, to help you understand what was going on,

But then a crushing sound vibrated across the room, making people gasp and scream in shock, their attention now focused on the other side of the room. 

Finnick

Peeta let out a sigh of relief as he got to the entrance door, which was luckily open, not a peacekeeper in sight.  He didn't waste a second to pull you out towards the main hall, where the elevator to the victor's rooms was.

“It will be alright (y/n), I promise” Peeta finally spoke, his voice just above a whisper, as he continued his way with unbreakable determination, both of your steps resonating against the glass floor the only sound in the spacious room “just trust me, okay?”

You felt as if Peeta’s voice was coming from underwater, muffled and far away- But still managed to understand.

“Okay” You replied, unable to voice any other word running through your dizzy brain - Your heart, you realized, it was beating so fast you couldn't catch a breath, and your skin, it felt so uncomfortable, so tight against your body- you wanted to rip it out. And the heat, the fucking heat

Peeta’s hand freed your wrist as he pressed the elevator’s button in a frantic pace, his other coming up to grip your hip, pushing so you stood in front of him, blocking the view of your body with his. 

You were so close now, bodies almost pressed together. His smell invaded you like the most intoxicating, addictive perfume you had ever sensed, tightening your chest in a silent hitch of breath - And his touch- so firm and strong, fingers pressing down on the overly sensitive flesh on your hip witch was barely covered in the thin material of your jeweled gown- it set flames through your veins

Peeta heard the rush of voices coming down the hall, right from where you had come, before he felt their quick heels clad steps coming closer. Whatever Finnick had done, it had set a commotion enough to make people begin to retreat to their chambers in a hurry. 

His eyes snapped to the elevator, the bright gold number still stuck on the 7th floor, and he realized it wasn't going to come by quick enough - They were already nearing the corner, they were going to catch the both of you, they were going to take you away and hurt you-

He secured your hand in his before he began to pull you further down the hall, your feet struggling to find their footing but managing not to stumble over them as you followed him. There was only one door in the hall, right on the end of it, a black metal block painted in bright gold. Peeta didn't bother to knock on it as he grabbed the handle, twisting it at the same time he pushed the side of his body on it to open it- and to his surprise and utter relief- it did. He didn't waste a second to push you inside, head twisting back one last time to see down the hall, where he noticed a couple of people beginning to appear, their vibrant colors striking against the pristine white walls and gold floor details. 

He closed the door behind him, leaving out the light from the hall, engulfing you both in complete darkness. He let out a long breath, his head dropping back against the door frame, a chuckle leaving his chest before he could stop it.

You tried to blink back the darkness, but your eyes were still struggling to adjust. Something was very wrong, you realized, as you couldn't seem to make the air from the space enter your lungs. You stepped back from the man in front of you in an attempt to gain some distance and ground yourself, but you felt the cool jab of metal meet your back- you twisted on the spot, freeing your hand from Peeta’s as you extended your arms in front of you. And you felt, to your utter horror, how on every side you were met with metal railings or the cool feeling of painted concrete walls. 

The space was tiny. A closet, of some sorts, you figured with a leap of your heart.

 “I can't” you gasped aloud, one hand coming up to clutch your chest, pulling at the absurd number of necklaces that had been wrapped around your neck- it felt as if you were choking “I can't breathe.” 

Peeta’s hands were instantly extended in search of you, his eyes wide in an attempt to see something, but only being met with darkness. 

“It is okay, hey, I’m here” He whispered, one of his hands brushing your shoulder. The contact made electricity run down your body, and you twisted in an attempt to get away from his touch, managing only to bump into the railing so hard, their contents began to fall onto the floor-

Peta cursed under his breath at the loud sound of stuff crashing against the glass floor, his heart drumming onto his chest as he felt the footsteps from outside alarmingly close. 

“Hey, hey calm down” He tried again, his hand grabbing your shoulder this time. And you tried to twist away again, desperate to get away from the warmth, the heat of his body, his burning touch-

it was too much, too much 

You pushed into the railing again making it crash against the wall in a loud bang. 

“(y/n)” Peeta rushed, his voice tight on his chest in anxiousness. But you didn't hear him, wouldn't hear him, needing to get away, desperately trying to do so-

Peeta felt the voices outside begin to wonder what those noises down the hall were, their loud cackling dimming down as if to hear better. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before somebody came up to investigate,

“Calm down” He ordered, voice low, almost a murmur. You could feel it vibrating on your chest, “We have to stay quiet, or they will find us.”

You tried to reason with his words, to obey, to understand what the fuck was going on - but then a pang of pain shot down your belly, taking the air from your lungs in a rush of a breath, before settling in a tight coil of aching between your legs. It made a whine fall from your lips before you could stop it, eyes closing as you hugged your body tightly.

Peeta’s heart stopped when he felt nearing footsteps, arms shooting forward when he heard your loud whine of pain at the same time, determined now to make you quiet. One hand found your hip as the other your arm, and he didn't waste a second to twist your bodies, so you stood with your back pressed to his chest. One of his strong arms circled your waist, locking you into him in a grip so tight you couldn't move an inch, as his other hand came to your face, palm pressing onto your mouth to silence any noise. 

And just like that, your senses cleared, they sharpened, they focused and circled on only one thing-

Him.

The way his warm body was pressed to yours, the feeling of his strong muscled arm wrapped around your waist, the way his chest pushed against you in every intake of breath, the feeling of his heart pounding so loud and fast against your back- and his god damn smell, so sweet and dark and intoxicating- it made the coil deep within your core tighten painfully, breath hitching on your throat.   

Peeta strained his ear to hear whatever was going on outside, the footsteps stopping just inches away, its shadow casting beneath the door frame. But it was so hard to concentrate on anything else that the way for body felt pressed to his - so warm he thought you might be having a fever-  and the way you were breathing so hard and fast, you were panting against his hand- but he could notice, he could see how much you were trying to do as he said, to stay still and be quiet, even if you were in so much discomfort 

“That’s it, calm down” He whispered, lowering his head so his lips were pressed to your ear, making sure only you could hear him. “You are doing so good” he praised, the words warm against your skin. 

The way he phrased those words was enough to make a shiver run through your spine and make your head spin with desire. You hadn't noticed the way you had begun to press further onto him, almost as if desperate to be closer, to feel him even further. And his hand, his fucking hand had begun to rub the side of your waist in a comforting way,

You were melting. But you wanted more, you needed more-

Peeta tried to ignore the way you had begun to move against him, how your breathing had changed to something deeper, how your mouth let slip little whines and moans against his hand. He knew it was the drug's effect, he knew you couldn't help it, he knew he had to maintain a clear head, to take care of you and make sure you stayed safe.

And then you felt it, as you ground your body against his, you felt something hard begin to press against your ass. It made something in you snap, a need so desperate and maddening, it made fire rush through your veins as if boiling from the inside out- it made your brain drunk and fuzzy with desire- and the pain, the excruciating coil tightening between your legs, it was too much, too much.    

Peeta felt your hand suddenly grip his, moving his arm away from your hip. He felt almost in a daze, as if unable to stop you as you moved it down your body. His breath hitched in your ear as you pressed his hand right between your legs, where you needed him the most. The thin material of your jeweled gown was the only thing standing between his fingers and your pussy- he could feel how warm you were, and cursed aloud when he noticed also how wet. 

“We can't” He whispered; voice slightly breaking as he felt you increase the pressure of his fingers “They have drugged you with an aphrodisiac. You are not thinking straight-”  

A moan slipped through your lips, muffled by his hand still pressed against your mouth. Peeta's eyes strained on the doorframe, noticing the shadow gone. He almost sighed in relief, until he felt the loud chuckles coming from outside-

they were still there.

Your brain couldn't comprehend anything else but the need for him. A need that was becoming so strong, the pain was unbearable. You could feel tears swell in your eyes as you gasped, your other hand coming up to push away his own from your mouth. 

“Please, Peeta, I can't take this anymore- I” you choked on a whine when you felt his other hand slip from away from your body “-I need you, please, just help me.”

You pleaded, head dropping back against his shoulder in utter defeat. 

Peeta cursed again, eyes tightening shut as he searched for the will to contain himself, to find a way to reason with you, to make you understand how this was so wrong-

But then he remembered Finnick's words. ‘Do what you must to help her,’ what did he even mean? Was this the only way you could go through this? You would hate him for it, Peeta thought, taking advantage of you like this- but you were in pain, you were literally crying and shaking in his arms, he couldn't stand seeing you like this, it was breaking him-

“Please” you whined, your own hand coming between your legs to relieve some of the pressure there in a futile attempt- you felt absolutely nothing.

“Okay” he murmured against your ear, telling it more to himself than to you, making up his mind. “How can I help you, (y/n), just tell me how.” 

You sigh in relief at his words, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Touch me” you whispered, breathless “Please.”

Peeta felt lightheaded with the way you were so desperate, so needy for him. In any other circumstance, he would have given away with the first please ever uttered from your beautiful lips- because you were always so composed, so strong, so unwavering- hearing you like this was making him almost as desperate for you as you were for him.

“Please what?” Peeta couldn't help to reply, his voice just as breathless as yours, beginning to move his arms, tentatively resting his hands on your hips.

You groaned in frustration, beginning to push yourself away from him so you could turn around to face him when you felt one of his strong hands spread across your abdomen, pushing you right back against him. He was so strong, you couldn't help but think, imagining his hands pushing and pulling other parts, handling you as if it were nothing-

“Please, Peeta” you begged.

Peeta melted at the sound of those tight words in your throat.

“So polite” he praised, finally moving one hand to the side of your hip where the slit of your gown began. His callous warm fingers met your bare skin there and you sighed in content “Such a good girl” he whispered, mouth pressing down just below your right earlobe, in that sensitive spot that felt to good it sent tingles down your body and made you moan out loud before you could stop it-

Peeta’s other hand instantly moved to cover your mouth once again, roughly pushing your head back against his shoulder. 

“What was that?” A woman’s voice exclaimed from the hall outside, filled with delight “Sounds like someone’s having a good time!”

Peeta cursed on your ear, the words sounding even more coarse coming out of his mouth. 

You whimpered, unable to take the pain between your legs any longer- your heart was beating so fast, it seemed as if you couldn't catch your breath, your skin so taut you thought it might snap over your bones, and the heat- you thought you might pass out 

“Shh it’s okay” Peeta tried to calm you, his eyes glued to the shadows now outside of your door. Had they figured someone was inside here? “Be quiet doll, you can do it.”

You nodded your head in a haze, desperate to show him you would do anything he said. 

Peeta knew you couldn't take it any longer, practically limp in his arms, trembling in his grip. He took in a shaky deep breath before he began to move the hand on your hip underneath the surprisingly thin material of your gown. Your skin was so smooth and soft, and so, so warm- Peeta had to take a minute to just caress between your hip and upper thigh, savoring the feeling of your tender flesh beneath his rough fingers - before he heard your impatient cry from within his hand covering your mouth. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed the shadows beneath the door begin to move away, using the courage to finally dip his fingers between your thighs. His breath hitched when he noticed you didn't have anything under your gown, being met with your bare pussy right beneath his finger, hand freezing in place as the realization of what he was doing, and to whom, dawned on him.

He was about to fuck (y/n), districts four beloved 73rd hunger games victor.

“You are killing me” you mumbled against his palm, desperately pushing your hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure of his fingers where you needed him most. So, he dipped his hand further, his muscled arm tensing over your belly as he did, bringing you flushed against him. And his fingers, ever so slowly, began to part your folds, his eyes closing as his head dropped down to lean on your shoulders at the feeling of your slick coating his fingers, smoothing his entrance. You bit his hand in an attempt to quiet the moan bubbling on your chest, head pushing back against his shoulder in an attempt to get a grip on yourself.

“So good” he murmured, lips tightly pressed to your ear “So good, so quiet.” 

You could feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to rub your wetness up and down, right over the bundle of nerves that send electric waves of pleasure down your body. One of your hands came down to grip his arm, pushing it down with further force- Peeta instantly knew what you wanted, what it meant- and he obliged, increasing the pressure and pace of his fingers. 

The people outside began to cheer for something, the noise followed by clapping. Peeta didn't waste a second to remove his hand against your mouth, moving it down to your chin as he pushed your head further back, adjusting so his ear was right over your mouth-

“Let me hear you doll” He breathed, his fingers quickening their pace almost desperately so- feeling so good it made your toes curl and your thighs squeeze around his hand. And you moaned, so desperate and needy it would have embarrassed you if it weren't for the fact that that was exactly how you felt for him. 

“Peeta” you choked out in a gasp right on his ear, and that was enough to make Peeta lose his mind, a low groan escaping from his own lips, the sound so deep and hoarse it vibrated on his chest.

You could feel his erection pressed on your backside, so hard you knew we wanted you just as much at the moment. And you wanted to feel him, God, it was all you could have ever wanted, so you started to move your hand to your back- until you felt his hand suddenly stop, making you freeze in place. You could hear his ragged breathing, feel his heart pounding against your back-

“Look at me,” He whispered, interrupting the sudden silence. You opened your eyes, surprised to notice how they had adjusted to the darkness, able to see the outlines of the door, the metal railing filled with cleaning supplies- you were in fact, in a closet. And then you looked up, finding his beautiful face before you. 

He was so handsome; you had noticed that the first time you saw him. With his big, deep brown eyes and breathtaking smile. And now, with his messy blonde hair, his parted soft lips, his completely darkened eyes-

He looked delicious.

“You are absolutely beautiful” he murmured, the hand on your chin moving up to cup the side of your face. “(y/n)” he continued, a deep breath leaving his lips, fanning your own. You wanted to taste him so badly “You are not on your right mind, this is not what you want.”

You shook your head, exasperated.

“I want you so badly” you voiced in a shuddering breath “If you don't touch me right now, I think I might die.”

You used his stun position to free from his grasp, finally turning so you were face to face. He looked completely disheveled, his white tux discarded on the floor, and his matching shirt completely wrinkled, the first buttons torn and revealing a slit of tanned skin. 

“I-” He began but you couldn't resist any longer, shutting him up with a kiss. 

His hands were on you instantly, pulling at your hips to position you flush against him, to then wrap his arms around your waist to lock you in place. Your hand snaked to the back of his head, where you tangled them on his hair, slightly pulling it just to hear him groan again- it felt like fuel to the fire inside you. You used the moment to deepen the kiss, meeting his warm tongue inside his mouth. The kiss was desperate, hungry, lips moving feverishly against each other.

Peeta forgot about everything else, about the people on the other side of the door, about getting caught- he could only think about you, about feeling you against him, your lips on his, your tongue on his mouth- he wanted more. His hands began to roam your body, testing, feeling, kneading your soft flesh in a grip so strong you knew would certainly leave bruises. And then they were on your ass, squeezing so tight you moaned against his mouth- and he was lifting you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist-

“I need you” You panted against his lips, finally breaking the kiss. The coil in your lower stomach feeling even more unbearable, the pain was making you see white dots in the corner of your vision “I need you inside me.”

Peeta leaned his forehead to yours, attempting to regain control of himself, to think straight. He sat your body against the railing, separating enough so he could see your face, meet your eyes.

And he stared at you, almost in awe before he spoke again, dropping his head back as if to force himself to stop doing it any longer.

“Your eyes” he breathed out, “they shine so black when you are hot for me.” 

You cupped his face between your warm hands, forcing him to face you as you once again begged-

“please”

Peeta wanted nothing more than to oblige - he would have lifted your gown and fucked you right there against the railings- but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn't, not when you were under the effects of a drug that altered your senses, your reasoning.   

So, he compromised. Not doing anything was torture to you, or so he told himself, moving so one of his arms could fit between both of your bodies while the other began to lift your gown and gather it just over your hips. 

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He panted, his ears once again registering the commotion outside. Seemed like they moved the party to the hall, he realized, glad that the noise had gone louder, hiding what was going on in the little storage closet down the corridor.

“Yes” you whimpered, unable to contain the tears swelling in your eyes due to the pain, and the excitement- 

Such a wreck for him, Peeta thought, brain drunk in desire.

“You are the one killing me, (y/n)” he murmured, holding your gaze with eyes so intense you thought he might be looking through you. 

And then his hand was between your legs again, slowly rubbing your wet folds, surprised at how they were more so than before. He quicken up the pace faster this time, taking his time in enjoying every sinful sound falling from your lips, your head falling back to lean against the railing- you gasped when you felt his other hand grip your chin, thumb and index finger pressing against your cheeks and forcing you to open your eyes

“Look at me” he panted, and you thought you might cum just by the way he was looking at you with so much hunger-

And then you gasped in shock as without a warning two of his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb continuing to rub on your sensitive clit. Pleasure shocked through your body making you involuntary shake against the rails, the pressure on your lower abdomen coiling impossibly tighter-

“I'm gonna-” you whined, head leaning forward to try and find somewhere to lean on, but Peeta’s grip held you there on place, forcing you to face him. 

“Say please” He breathed, lips hovering over yours, his fingers moving in and out of you with the perfect pressure, the perfect pace, and his thumb-

“Peeta” you whimpered.

He could feel how close you were, how your walls clenched around his fingers in the most delicious way- he thought he was close himself to climax, just by the way your face scrunched with pleasure, how your body became undone under his touch-

“Come on doll, ask nicely” He encouraged, needing to hear you beg, just one more time.

 “Please” you managed moan.

And he was merciless about it, plunging his fingers into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing against your clit feverishly, curling his fingers and hitting just the perfect spot-

You become undone with his name on your lips, waves of pleasure erupting from deep within your tummy as the tight coil finally released, toes curling and body jerking. He slowed the pace of his fingers as he continued to ride you out of your orgasm, your shaking body finally collapsing into his, blind with gratification and exhaustion.

Peeta panted against your ear as he finally removed his fingers from inside you, proceeding to hold you tight against him before he lowered you from the railing back onto your feet- until he quickly realized you couldn't stand on your own, arms wrapping securely around your waist and across your back to hold you in place, your own coming up to snake around his neck in a solid embrace.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his breathing still ragged, heart pounding loudly against your chest pressed to his- you on the other hand, were completely crashing, blood pressure dropping, white stars dancing in the back of your close eyelids. 

“hmm” you hummed, struggling to remain conscious.

“I think they left” Peeta voiced his thoughts, frowning in concentration as he listened for any noise outside- but it was completely quiet, he soon realized. 

You didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, brain completely fogged with satisfaction, body finally out of pain and completely relaxed on his arms, as if meant to be there all along.

“(y/n)” Peeta shook you, his tone finally above a whisper “Hey, I need you to stay here yeah? stay with me.”

You tried to nod but your head just fell limp against his shoulder-

He smelled so fucking good.

“Thank you?” He replied, amusement clear on his breathless words.

You hadn't realized you had voiced your thoughts out loud, a soft chuckle scaping your lips.

“You are completely out of it, aren't you” He sighed, leaning over you so he rested his chin on top of your head, attempting to calm himself down.

You frowned at the height difference, moving your feet, and realizing you were barefoot, heels completely lost somewhere in the tiny closet.

Once Peeta finally could catch his breath, heart in a slightly normal pace, he stepped closer to the door, your almost limp body secure in his strong arms. He pushed the side of his face flat against the cool metal, concentrating on identifying any sound that could indicate someone on the other side but-

Nothing. Silence.

“Okay” He murmured, nodding “Okay, we are going to come out, yes?”

You mumbled a reply, what? you didn't know, but it was enough to make Peeta nod again. You felt him loosen his grip on you making you react on clinging to him with all your strength, desperate to avoid the loss of contact.

“Hey, I’m here, I won't leave you” He assured you, hands pushing you by the hips to create some space between the two- and you were so completely weak, barely registering your body at all, that you couldn't avoid the separation. 

You frowned, opening your mouth to try and object, when you were suddenly being lifted from the ground and up on his arms again, this time in bridal style, with one of his arms holding under your knees as the other secured around your back. 

“Romantic” you gushed, chuckling again.

Peeta rolled his eyes, sheepish smile tugging at his lips, as he adjusted his body so his hand could twist the handle and open the door. He loosens a breath he didn't know had been holding as he registered the hall with quick assessing eyes, noticing it completely deserted.

You tried to blink at the sudden light, but it took just a couple of blinks before your eyes dropped closed again, as if the weight of them was impossible to overcome. 

“Your room is not safe” He murmured, beginning to make his way to the elevator with you tightly held on to his arms “We will go to mine.”

You nodded, the pull of unconsciousness so strong you were sure it was only a matter of seconds before you were out- so you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms across his neck and positioning your face right at the nape of his neck, where his smell washed over you and his warmth seeped to your skin.

And just like that, you were out with a content smile plastered on your face.

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

Chapter two: low expectations.

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne

A/N: sorry for the late update, but imma catch you guys up 🫡

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Over the next few days you manage to get your pre-reading all done and dusted.

You can’t help but already feel exhausted by the amount of things that you have to juggle at university.

Just as soon as you were completed with one task, you groaned at the thought of your long list of remaining errands. Bills, assignments, grocery shopping and your shifts at the cafe were all piled on top of you constantly, not to mention your attempt to attend your lectures and classes, double checking that they were the right ones.

But the most stressful by far was trying to avoid your mother’s calls, which occurs at least twice a day. As of recently, you had thought that you were safe, coming up with excuses left, right and center.

At least that was before you had seen a missed call from your dad this morning.

That’s how you know that you’re really in the shits.

You’re gonna have to come up with something. And in quick timing.

But for now, you’re going to have to sideline your personal dilemmas.

With your new job at the cafe, you have no choice but to remain consistent with your routine, that is of course, if you want your new job to last.

After weeks of rejection or rather, the lack of replies, you had managed to secure a job at your roommate’s favorite cafe spot.

And by secure you mean that you had sort of lied about having experience in a cafe previously.

You didn’t entirely lie…just exaggerated the truth a little bit.

This was one of the only jobs that had replied to you out of a whole stockpile and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. Not under any circumstances.

You did have the experience of watching and observing what your classmate did at her family owned cafe whilst you were on the till for a few minutes.

But nonetheless, what’s so hard about making coffee? Anyone can do this shit. It’s okay if you’re learning on the job, doesn’t everyone? Currently, you succeed in trying to rotate between keeping track of orders and making drinks as well as trying not to get in MJ’s way too much.

But you were handling it to the best of your abilities. Even if that did mean messing up a few of your customers' orders every once in a while. MJ had said nothing about it so far which means that you're in the green light.

For now.

“You really should be getting some sleep, don’t let your first year knock you out before midterms.” She acknowledges, elbowing you slightly.

“I kno–” you barely finish your sentence, another yawn coming out of nowhere.

“See?” She hums, finishing off an order for the previous customer. “You need some beauty sleep.”

She’s referring to your bruised under eye bags that have started to appear. Ultimately, the results of you staying up till midnight yesterday to finish off an assignment. You had only managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in time for your 6am shift.

“I also need money, but we can’t have it all can we MJ?” you note, keeping your tone light before you move on to serve another customer.

You’ve only been on shift for a couple of hours but you think you’re coping well so far. MJ forewarned you about the morning lecture rush hour. You guessed that it was soon by glancing at the old clock hung up on the wall, indicating that it was just after 8:30 am. Students continued to spill in and out of the cafe, the bell above the front door continuously ringing in your ears.

A small line had begun to queue up and you swiftly moved through them with ease. As your next customer came up to the counter, your face lit up at the sight of a familiar face.

“Oh hey stranger–” you begin, recognising the same grueling face that you had seen last week bore into you. But you barely get a chance to finish your sentences before he cuts you off sharply.

“Coffee. Black.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you tap his order into the machine, immediately sensing his disgruntled aura. By the expression on his face, you can tell that he doesn’t seem up for teasing.

He seems…frustrated? Or maybe even upset?

“Name?”

“Miguel.”

You can’t tell whether he’s cranky because it’s 8am in the morning or rather that you failed to notice this the last time you saw him. Either way, it makes you a little dazed. Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person. You understood that because you were the complete same. Taking his name, you brush him off instead hoping that your coffee will cheer him up.

You inform him of the price and he swipes his card without a second glance. He leaves to take a seat in one of the corners of the cafe which just so happens to be the only part of the cafe that wasn’t so overwhelmed with customers.

It’s not long before you head over there yourself with his order.

“Here’s your black coffee.” you say, setting it down in front of him. Hastily, you’re about to run off to prepare your next order before his words stop you.

“I ordered a black coffee. Not a latte.”

You turn around abruptly, realizing your full mistake. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“Are you new here or just incapable of making a simple cup of black coffee?” Miguel interrupts, his tone laced with vexation.

“Who do you think you’re–”

Your outrage comes to a halt by the sound of your name being called by MJ. You glance over your shoulder and notice her point towards an ever growing queue of customers. Shit, you don’t have time to cuss him out.

Taking a deep breath, you make the decision to be the bigger person, after all it’s like what your manager Steve said…

‘ The customer is always right.’

“I’ll bring it over for you, m’sorry.” you apologize again, rubbing at your forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with the pressure. With sweat beading at your brows, you look over to see a small queue beginning in front of the till again.

MJ throws you a hurried glance, a look which you know means ‘hurry the fuck up and make these orders.’

You end up taking longer than five minutes to return back to him, run ragged with the new orders of coffees, teas, lattes, macchiatos and hot chocolates that continue to pile up.

“Here you go, sorry about that.” You place his new and correct drink in front of him.

“No worries.”

You’re almost taken aback by his response. First he snaps at you and now he’s telling you not to worry about it? God, he was so confusing.

“Enjoy.”

You think that you hear a mutter of ‘thanks’ leave his mouth but you don’t turn back to hear his words clearly. Yet… you can’t exactly keep away.

For some reason your brain keeps lingering towards a burning question which has rattled your mind all through the past week. Giving in to your temptations, you end up turning around and prompt Miguel with another question.

“How did you know ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was set in the 19th century?”

“Huh?” He glances up from his phone, his thumb paused in his mindless scrolling.

“Last time, when I saw you in the library. You knew it was set in the 19th century.”

“I didn’t.'' Miguel huffs, and your eyes can help but notice the size of his biceps. You estimate that they’re bigger than your fucking hands. “It was an estimated guess.”

“Really? You don’t seem too-”

“Listen.” Miguel quips, his sharp tone suddenly returning, causing your voice to trail off midway through your sentence. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he speaks. “I’m going to try and say this in the nicest way possible, but I’m really not in the mood for some crap about your literature degree, okay? I really couldn’t care less.”

Ouch.

Your expression drops and you’re immediately aware of the distance between the two of you.

He’s right. You barely know him. He’s just a guy who just so happened to be there at one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. “Right, sorry.”

You’re about to leave his table before he stops you…again.

“Y’know I ought to tell your manager that you messed up my order.” Miguel begins, continuing to scroll on his phone, not bothering to even look up at you. “This is a very reputable cafe and if you start slacking on the job then…”

“Then what?” You question. “Are you trying to threaten me with a bad review?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say threaten is the right word but…now that you say that perhaps I should write one.”

Your stomach drops at his words. “Oh, you fucking wouldn’t.”

He smirks, still peering down at his phone. “Maybe I would.”

“Bet.”

“Don’t start betting on things that you’ll end up regretting, nena.”

Your brow raises at his phrase which you don’t entirely understand but you really don’t have time to question it. Your patience is running out as well as your time to get back on track with the orders.

As you walk away from his table, his words seem to settle into your skin.

He wouldn’t? Would he? No… he hasn’t got the balls to. What kind of person has that amount of free time on their hands to write a bad review? At least he had gotten his coffee in the end, you were in your right mind not to spill it all over him on purpose.

“He’s a dick, he’s a dick, he’s a total dick.” You mutter under your breath, making your way back to your station. But you should’ve guessed that from your conversation with him in the library, recalling his mocking tone of your embarrassment.

You should’ve kept your expectations low if you ever thought that you were going to be friends with him.

“What did you say?” MJ queries, hearing your mumbles as you join her.

You nod towards Miguel, still sitting in the far corner scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“He’s an evil, brooding…” You fail to think of an appropriate ending.

“Dick?” MJ ends.

“Correct.” you say. You promise to yourself that from this moment onwards you are refraining from looking over at that corner.

You find that time passes quickly during your shift and once the rush hour of students finally dies down, you and MJ get the chance to finally take a break.

“Fucking hell, I never want to do that again.” She murmurs wiping down the surfaces near the coffee machines for any spilt substances.

“Ditto that.” you murmur, grabbing a cloth to wipe down some empty tables.

Learning that MJ was a performing arts student made you more than happy to get along well with her. She was in her second year, yet in a sea of sickening STEM students here you had real proof that you weren’t the only humanities student.

Take that Miguel.

/

Currently eating dinner alone in your apartment, you reminisce on your day in silence, your roommate out at her weekly computer coding club. You think that it was safe to say that it was a good day today, despite all the stresses at work.

Speaking of work, you recall the conversation from this morning.

You don’t want to give this Miguel guy too much credit but you’d be lying if you said that his threat earlier didn’t scare the shit out of you for the remainder of your day.

Even MJ had to ask if you were alright when it got to the end of your shift and you had brushed it off, blaming it on your exhaustion.

He was totally bluffing….right? I mean, he doesn’t even know you.

You bite down on your metallic fork, anxiety rapidly filling you within.

No, you can’t help it. You have to check.

Chewing on your fingernails, you type in the name of the cafe that you work out and head over to the reviews section on Google.

Scrolling down to find the latest reviews, your stomach practically drops at one comment, under the simple username of: @miguelohara20.

‘New barista lacked the ability to do her job. Couldn’t pay attention to even get my order right. Talks way too much unprovoked, to the point where you might as well save some money and make the damn coffee yourself.’

The fucking nerve of this guy causes so much anger within you that your fork practically falls from your other hand as you immediately go to text MJ. You send her a screenshot before typing with fury.

- ‘Did you see this? This was that guy that I was complaining about earlier: the rude, evil, brooding STEM one.’

Sent: 7:34pm

It’s not long before you receive a reply from MJ and it’s one that makes your stomach drop.

- ‘Yeah I did :/ Steve texted me about it actually.

Received: 7:36pm

MJ sends through another text, a few seconds later.

- ‘He wants a meeting with you on ‘customer etiquette’ !!

Received 7:36pm

Dropping your phone on the table, you let out a groan, holding your head in your hands. Now, this day went from ‘good’ to being the second worst day of your life, now with your job on the line.

Yeah…you think you fucking hate Miguel now.

reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

[tumbleweed-writes]

From your smut prompt list....how about #1 and #44 for my favorite scotsman Chibs?

Belonging.

I have zero idea how this got so filthy. I would apologize for the filth, but it's smut. What'd ya expect???

18+ Only obviously.

Chibs pushes Y/N away in a poorly thought out attempt to protect her . Y/N decides to go on a date with a rebound to mend her broken heart and Chibs is left trying to remind Y/N that they belong with one another.

========

This date was a terrible idea. In fact, it might be the worst idea she’d ever had in her entire life. The thought danced through her head as she studied herself in the floor length mirror in her bedroom. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that the polite and handsome rookie cop who’d asked her on a date was not quite worthy of the pretty little floral dress she’d chosen to wear.

The white knee length dress was adorned with red roses and the sweetheart neckline gave a perfect view of her cleavage. The red heels she’d worn with it made her legs look so appealing. She’d spent far too long curling her hair and picking out a perfect shade of red lipstick to match the roses on her dress.

The dress had been bought with a much different man in mind. Her heart ached as it reminded her that this man was clearly no longer worthy of this dress.

When she met Filip Chibs Telford she should have been wise enough to know he would break her heart.

She had been new in town opening a bakery not far from Floyd’s Barbershop on main street. She’d used what little inheritance she’d received from her grandfather to follow her dreams and open a bakery. She’d taken a huge risk having left her safe and stable job to follow her passions and open her own business. She’d been praying the risk would pay off.

She’d chosen to move from San Francisco out to Charming, California. She’d been charmed by the name, no pun intended, and the small town atmosphere.  It felt like the perfect place to follow her dreams.

One of her very first customers had been one Gemma Teller Morrow.

The intimidating looking Queen of SAMCRO had been looking for a birthday cake for her grandson and had been impressed with Y/N’s work.

Y/N had been nervous but delighted to have her first big client and she’d thrown herself into making the Harley Davidson themed cake for the toddler.

The men who had been sent to pick up said cake had not been what she’d been expecting. The Scotsman in particular had caught her attention; the accent quite uncommon in the middle of northern California.

She’d been unaware that she had caught his attention as well. 

At the time of their first meeting she’d been a bit distracted by Bobby Munson who’d been talking to her about the secret to a perfect muffin. She’d not noticed the Scottish Son admiring her during the discussion she’d been having with Bobby over preferred leavening agents and the perfect ratio of fruit to batter in blueberry muffins.

Bobby had become a frequent visitor to her bakery after the birthday cake job, and much to her shock the Scotsman had joined him more often than not.

The very first conversation Chibs and she had ever had one on one had been over shortbread, in particular his praise for her shortbread. She’d taken it as a genuine compliment when he’d admitted that her Scottish shortbread was the best he’d had stateside.

A friendship had formed between Chibs and she, although she knew to outsiders it might appear to be a strange friendship; the scary looking forty something year old outlaw biker being so buddy buddy with the young sweet looking baker. It was an odd mix; leather and whiskey with floral dresses and cupcakes.

The change in their friendship had come unexpectedly. She’d had some trouble with a local developer who’d been visiting Charming; the man had begun attempting to intimidate Y/N into backing out of her lease. He’d been quite pushy with a few of the businesses on main street.

He had intentions of building some upscale condos and high end retail on the street. He thought Charming would be a perfect getaway for yuppies looking to escape the big city. 

Apparently the landlord who owned this particular strip of buildings on main street was not interested in selling the property. He’d figured he had a pretty good deal going with the businesses operating there as most had been there for decades. 

So the developer had taken to attempting to get the business owners who were renting the shop spaces to back out of their lease. 

His attempts to get Y/N to give up her retail space had been friendly at first, until it had become clear that she was not interested in moving from her place of business no matter how much money he was willing to throw at her. 

He’d gotten quite demanding and it had become full on harassment. 

SAMCRO didn’t take kindly to the developer taking an interest in Charming’s real estate if it meant bringing in outsiders to the safe haven that was Charming, and Chibs had not taken kindly to the man attempting to intimidate the pretty young baker who he’d taken such a liking to.

SAMCRO had been willing to come to her defense and Chibs had seemed to take quite the pleasure in scaring off the developer.

Y/N’s intention to thank the guys with baked goods, and Chibs with his own batch of Scottish Shortbread, had been started with innocent intentions.

The guys had appreciated the muffins she’d baked them as well as the cake. Chibs had appreciated the shortbread…but somehow her thank you to him had gotten a little out of hand.

One second he’d been standing in her shop accepting the box of shortbread and the next minute her lips had been pressed to his; his hands caressing her body.

She was grateful that the bakery had been closed and it had been late enough at night because Chibs had wound up taking her back to the kitchen and one thing had led to another. She was sure the health department would shut her down if they’d ever known just what she allowed Chibs to do to her, bending her over the counter, and what they’d done on the floor. 

They’d laid side by side nude on the kitchen floor both out of breath staring up at the ceiling when the words had left him. “I think it kinda goes without sayin that I like ye a lot.”

The giggle that had left her made a smile cross his features, the smile only growing as she spoke in response. “Good, I like you a lot too.”

Things had been good; they’d been happy.

Then things had changed. Jax Teller had taken the gavel becoming club pres and Chibs had become his SGT At Arms.

With the new title came some unexpected distance between Chibs and she. Y/N had figured at first that perhaps Chibs had just been busy given all the changes in the club, but then weeks had gone by and then before she knew it a month had gone by and she barely heard from him.

She’d made several attempts to reconnect with him and find the spark they seemed to have lost; but he’d just seemed to brush off her attempts. She’d called and paid visits to TM Auto…she’d even visited the clubhouse and his apartment, but he’d seemed so eager to push her away.

The last interaction they’d had told her all she needed to know.

They’d been standing in his dorm room at the clubhouse after she’d paid a visit practically begging him to just give her a moment of his time. 

She could remember the words that she’d said to him. “Lately, I just feel like maybe you don’t love me as much as I love you. I just feel so…neglected. I know you’re busy, but I’d like to at least feel like you still have a moment for me in your life. Lately, it feels like I have to fight tooth and nail to get you to glance my way. I know there’s been a lot of changes for you in the club, and I’m trying to be supportive…I am trying so hard to meet you halfway, but it feels like I’m the only one trying. I feel like I’m fighting so hard for us. I’m so tired of fighting, Filip…I can’t be the only one fighting for us.”

The words she’d gotten in response had felt like a knife to the chest. “Maybe it aint worth fightin fer.”

“I love you, how is that not worth fighting for?” She questioned not above pleading with him. This just seemed to be coming out of left field. She didn’t understand how he could claim that they weren’t worth fighting for.

He’d always made her feel so loved and adored. She felt so connected to him. He made her feel so wonderful. How had he changed so quickly without even a moment's notice? 

The response she got cut her all the more deeply. “Jus leave me alone, Y/N.”

He paused the next words that left him sounding uncharacteristically cruel. “It was fun while it lasted, aye? Ye were a good fuck. We got each other off and it was all good n’ well. Shite is getting too deep between us lately; too personal. It’s gettin a wee bit pathetic on yer half. Yer clingy and desperate. Like I said, shite is pathetic. I can’t do commitment, Lass. I ain't the type to give ye the white wedding and white picket fence. We’re two different people from two very different worlds. We should own up to the fact that our paths ain’t goin to align. Ye shoulda known from the start what this shite was between us. This was never anythin serious fer me. I don’t love ye.”

Those words had shattered her heart; she only managed to step back from him as though he’d slapped her. She spoke, her words harsh, tears flooding her vision. “I wish I had never met you.”

With that she’d turned away and fled from his room and his life.

She’d allowed herself time to cry and have the biggest pity party known to man. Then she’d done her very best to put on a brave face and carry on with her life without Chibs Telford. She had returned to work and pasted a smile on her face. She’d thrown herself into her work. She had ignored the looks of pity that had been sent her way as Bobby and a few brave members of SAMCRO had dared to still come to her shop for baked goods.

She’d not seen neither hide nor hair of Chibs Telford though, and even though her heart might claim differently, her head insisted that it was just as well for her.

Even if her heart screamed that it was a lie; she swore that she never cared to see Filip Chibs Telford ever again as long as she lived and breathed. 

When a handsome young rookie cop had stepped into her shop with his little sister in tow looking to buy a treat for the girl; Y/N had been flattered by his obvious flirtation. She hated to admit it was cute. Guys who were good with kids were appealing. 

Though she didn’t quite get the same weak kneed putty feeling she got when Chibs flirted with her; she’d forced herself to flirt back with the young officer.

When he’d come back a week ago and asked her out for dinner, she’d said yes despite her heart screaming at her that she was not ready.

That was how she wound up sitting at an Italian restaurant on main street with her date. The restaurant was nice; romantic and cozy. The candlelight failed to invoke romantic notions in Y/N though as she stared at her date.

Seth; his name was Seth.

He was sweet, intelligent, handsome, and funny. He was kind and seemed as though he was passionate about his work. He had brought her a bouquet of roses and complemented her outfit. He’d held the car door open for her. He’d hung on every word she’d said tonight. He didn’t do a thing for her though. 

There was no spark there at all. He didn’t make her heart skip a beat. He didn’t make her feel that stir of lust deep within her. He didn’t make butterflies fill her belly. He didn’t make her feel like a nervous schoolgirl. 

She found herself comparing him to a certain Scotsman. He had a nice smile but his smile was missing the dimples she adored in Chibs. He had a charm to him; but it was not the same charm Chibs Telford had mastered. He was handsome and young, but Chibs was handsome in his own right and she was fond of the gray along his temples. Seth had a slow California accent but it was nothing like Chibs’ thick Scottish brogue. Seth was brave due to his career, but she didn’t feel the same sense of protection she felt around Chibs. He was funny, but he failed to make her laugh as hard as Chibs though. He was sexually appealing, but she didn’t find herself picturing what he might be like in bed. A voice in the back of her head exclaimed that he could not please her the way Chibs had done.

Chibs Telford had ruined her for other men, and she despised him for it. 

It felt hopeless. She hated that she was on a date with a nice and socially acceptable man and all she could think about was the socially unacceptable man who had been awful to her the last time they’d spoken. How was she this pathetic?

She loved a man who did not want nor love her. She could not think of anything more pitiful. 

She frowned as Seth spoke a frown crossing his features. “What do you think?”

“About?” She dared to ask hoping it was not so obvious she’d not been paying attention to a word he’d said thus far. She had no idea what they were even talking about.

“The sushi place they’re putting in? It’s going in out near that coffee shop by Jones Appliance Repair. Everyone’s been talking about it.” Seth explained the frown deepening he most likely picking up on the fact that she’d not been paying attention to him nor the conversation he’d been attempting to carry along with her.

“Oh, uh, I’d be curious to try it out.” She remarked her cheeks flushing ever so slightly mortified it was obvious she was not able to focus on this date at all.

Seth scrunched his nose up at the response he fast to reply. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to try it. Eating raw fish just seems kind of unsanitary. I don’t know…seems like it might make you sick. I mean you really aren't supposed to eat raw meat, ya know?.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, tempted to snap that people ate sushi all the time and fared just fine. She pushed back the comment ignoring the voice in the back of her head that claimed Chibs would endure trying it with her even if he felt wary of it. He would try it if he thought it would make her happy.

She hated the thought, reminding herself that Chibs cared very little about what made her happy. If he cared about her happiness, he would not have broken her heart.

He didn’t love her. He’d said the words himself. Nothing between them had been serious according to him. He did not want her. 

“Are you okay? You seem miles away.” Seth observed she cringing at the statement.

She sighed, deciding to just be honest with him. He seemed like a nice enough guy and she felt guilty that she was unable to really commit to this date. She was using him as a rebound and she felt awful for using him in such a way. She felt like an awful person. Didn’t hurt people hurt people though? “I just got out of a relationship…he broke up with me and I guess, I’m still kind of heartbroken over it. I found out he wasn’t taking it as seriously as I was…or at least that’s what he said. I guess I'm still in love with him…which sucks, because he doesn’t love me. You’re a nice guy, but my head and heart are kind of a mess right now. Rejection stings, and my heart just feels so heavy lately. I guess, I’m just not entirely ready for any of this…I thought this date would be a good idea, but I’m just not ready.”

Seth nodded his head, reaching down to toy with the polished fork on the table. “Your ex is that Scottish guy, right? The biker, he’s in that club, The Sons of Anarchy?”

She furrowed her brow at the comment. She knew SAMCRO was well known around town…but she found it strange that Seth would have enough knowledge about the club to place the fact that she’d been previously involved with Chibs. She spoke the words flying from her lips. “How do you know that?”

Seth shrugged his shoulders he fast to respond. “I’ve seen them around town…saw you on the back of the Scottish guy’s bike once a few months back.”

He was fast to speak again. “Sheriff Roosevelt knows the Sons of Anarchy are up to no good despite their company line of just being motorcycle enthusiasts. The last sheriff Charming had was apparently way too willing to turn the other cheek when it came to SAMCRO. Pretty sure old Unser was just as crooked as the MC. Now that San Joaquin has absorbed the Charming Police department, the days of turning the other cheek are over. Most honest cops worth their salt would love to bust those guys. I’ve seen the records these guys have, the Scottish guy too. They’re criminals, there’s no way of sugar coating it. It’s some crazy shit. They’re an international organization, don’t know if you knew that. The Feds have tried and failed to bust them. The ATF were in town a few years back and they didn’t manage to pin them down the way they’d hoped. So, if the local PD did it, it’d be impressive.”

He paused, shrugging his shoulders the words that left his lips sounding so nonchalant. “I imagine you have to know something about what they’re up to given you dated one of them. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to see the red flags he must have been giving off.”

“Did you ask me out so you could dig for information about my ex and SAMCRO?” She snapped, the thought making her blood boil.

She was being used wasn’t she?

“Not entirely. I asked you out because you’re attractive and you seem like a sweet girl despite your dating history. Anything you might say about your ex and his friends is just a bonus.” Seth remarked.

 Y/N reacted by picking up her wine glass, tossing the liquid within it in his face.

Seth wiped his face, a scoff leaving him, his dress shirt now stained with red wine that had managed to drip down his face before he had a chance to really wipe it away. “Guess you’re really not over the ex if you’re this defensive over it. The guy seriously broke your heart and you’re still protecting him. Dude is a scumbag and you’re this upset about the idea of him being busted.”

He spoke nodding at the large windows, to their left, that gave a view of the street outside the restaurant. “Guess he’s not over you either. I noticed him following us when I picked you up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear his bike or notice him. Like I said though, you’ve been miles away all night. He really did a number on you. It’s a shame. You seemed like such a sweet girl and he’s ruined you, clearly.”

She turned in her seat spotting the motorcycle across the street and the familiar man standing beside it. She could see him standing by his bike, his arms crossed, his eyes squinted as he struggled to peer through the restaurant windows in the dim light of dusk.

She grimaced, torn between wanting to stay here and endure this horrible date or wanting to go outside and risk confronting the man who had broken her heart.

She sighed deciding that her heart was going to hurt either way. She might as well go with the devil she knew.

She spoke, gathering her purse and her jacket. “Lose my number. I am not going to be a career stepping stone for you. I may be ruined, but I’m not stupid nor is my self esteem low enough to let myself be used by another man ever again.”

With that she gathered what little she had left of her pride, ignoring Seth’s comment as she walked away from him. “Don’t come crying to me when he winds up in prison. He’s a criminal, Y/N. Don’t forget that. He’ll never change.”

She kept her head down as she left the restaurant pretending she did not see the Scotsman watching her every move.

She cringed as she heard the sound of a bike starting up. She moved a little quicker knowing it was a futile endeavor as she could not outwalk his Harley especially not in red open toed pumps.

“Get on the bike, Lass.” The comment sounded out beside her.

“Fuck you.” She snapped, daring to glare at him, not stopping her pace.

Chibs sighed, rolling his eyes at the comment. “Aye, I deserve that.”

“No kidding. You’re a real piece of shit, showing up here after the last time I saw you. I hate you.” She remarked her pace speeding up Chibs not giving up riding along beside her slowly.

“Now that ye got that outta yer system, will ye please jus get on the damn bike? What do ye think yer even doin? Are ye seriously goin to walk home? Ye live miles away, Love. Jus let me take ye home.” Chibs responded, flinching a bit at the venom behind her words.

“No, I don’t need a damn thing from you. I am no longer your concern. We were never serious, remember?” She snapped back, turning down an alleyway attempting to escape him.

Chibs remained undeterred, parking his bike at the curb and dismounting it. He followed her down the alleyway, his voice sounding drained. “Come on, Y/N. This is fuckin insanity.”

“The only insane thing is you bothering to show up and crash my date. I think you made it perfectly clear that you wanted me to leave you alone the last time we spoke. You made your thoughts on me and how pathetic I am perfectly crystal clear. Nothing has changed.” Y/N retorted groaning as she neared a dead end, it hitting her that her escape route was useless.

Chibs sighed, unable to stop himself from saying it. “Ye ain’t pathetic. Yer date didn’t look like it was goin so well. A fuckin cop, Love? Really?”

She scoffed at the comment she turning to glare at him, the words falling from her lips, unable to stop herself from taunting him. “Remember we come from two different worlds. In my world I can date a cop and you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

He stepped closer to her his eyes growing dark as he stared down at her. “Aye, maybe so. Ye didn’t look like ye were havin much fun with him though, Lass. Ye looked fuckin miserable all night.”

She glared up at him, deciding to push his buttons all the more, lying through her teeth her words far more vulgar than she’d ever dare them to be in any other conversation. “Oh I’ve had plenty of fun with him, Chibs. You did say I was a good fuck. I thought I’d test the theory with him. I might be desperate and pathetic, but you know how good I feel wrapped around a cock. Maybe I thought I’d try his dick out, see how good I could feel.”

The words made his eyes grow all the darker. He stepped even closer to her his voice picking up a possessive tone. “We both know he can’t fuck ye as good as I can, Love. We both know I could do ye so well ye couldn’t walk the next day. Ye seem to be walkin jus fine righ now which tells me he’s nowhere as good as me.”

Her eyes narrowed, she shoving back the lust creeping up in her at the reminder of just how good Chibs Telford had been in bed. “You lost the right to fuck me the second you broke my heart”.

She paused, stepping back closer to the wall, her words harsh, the pain evident in her voice she clenching her fists refusing to cry in front of him. “You don’t love me, remember? So, why the hell are you even here?”

He cringed at the statement a sense of something she did not expect to see in his eyes washing over him; shame, regret.

He sighed the words leaving him. “I made a mistake.”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, she sounded as emotionally drained as she felt. “You can’t just show up like this, Filip. You can’t throw me away and then get mad because some other guy wanted me. I’m not something you can just drop and pick back up at your convenience. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. I deserve better than someone who only wants me when someone else shows interest.”

“It ain’ like that. I ain’ jus showin up because some prick wanted ye. I won’t lie and say that Bobby mentionin ye had a date didn’t push me to get off my arse and stop bein so stubborn. This ain’ about me wantin ye only cause someone else does. I never stopped wantin ye.” Chibs struggled the explain the comment, his words only confusing her further.

“You didn’t act like you wanted me very much the last time we spoke. You told me I was the only one taking anything between us seriously.” She pointed out the hurt evident in her voice.

Chibs cringed at the comment, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, a sigh leaving his lips. “I didn’t mean any of it…I thought I was protectin ye.”

“From what?” She exclaimed, annoyance joining her confusion.

He sighed, shaking his head. “From me, Love. I know we never said the words…never acknowledged the truth…I never said out loud jus what I am…what SAMCRO is. I knew ye were smart enough to figure it out…that I’m an outlaw. I’m a criminal and yer innocent.”

She parted her lips wanting to snap that she was not that innocent. She didn’t have the chance though as Chibs spoke again. “I have seen ol ladies come and go in this club. I never took an ol lady before ye…Even after I divorced Fiona…I figured I’d not find anyone I wanted to spend my life with…I watched my brother’s and their ol ladies though…I’ve seen em be treated like shite by my brothers. I’ve seen men treat the women they claim to love like dog shite.”

“You never treated me like that…I mean aside from how you dumped me, that was kind of shitty.” She remarked, her voice soft.

Chibs nodded his head, a heavy sigh leaving him. “Aye that may be true. It wasn’t jus kinda shite love, I was a piece of shite.”

He paused, forcing himself to say the words he should have said to her from the start. “The violence that the life I’ve chosen requires…I never wanted ye to experience it. The role I’ve taken in the club..Sgt at Arms..it requires a certain level of violence…violence I’m perfectly capable of…it’s a side of me I never wanted ye to know existed in me…the life I’ve chosen to live chews ye up and spits ye back out. I’ve seen it break more people than I care to admit…and I’ve lost more than a few people in my life. I got in my head thinkin bout ye, thinkin bout how much I love ye…how pure bein in love with ye feels. Told myself the life I chose to live would jus taint that purity, that the world that comes with me would break ye. I couldn’t let it happen. I love ye, and I’d rather let ye go than lose ye or make ye think I’m a monster.”

“So, you just broke my heart instead of telling me how you felt? That was the plan?” She snapped, absorbing the words rolling them around in her head soaking them in.

He loved her.

She knew of course just what he was…she was not stupid. She didn’t buy the whole innocent motorcycle enthusiast lie SAMCRO loved to spin. She had spotted the occasional signs that Chibs’ day to day life consisted of more than just being a mechanic at TM Auto. He carried a burner cell and weapons for heaven's sake. Those were pretty big red flags if there ever were any. 

The red flags had never pushed her from Chibs. He’d seemed so sweet and had been a perfect gentleman to her. She’d told herself that anyone who could treat her with such adoration could not be a danger to her. She’d ignored any sense of self preservation that told her he was dangerous and had followed her heart with him.

She also heard the whispers around town. Charming’s local populace seemed to be well aware that SAMCRO was up to no good. They seemed to tolerate the club as a necessary evil of sorts.

She’d told herself that the men she’d gotten to know, who so often frequented her bakery, were not a threat to her.  

Chibs sighed nodding his head wordlessly as Y/N spoke the words leaving her. “You’re an idiot, Filip.”

He felt a small smirk cross his features at the comment. “Aye, been called worse.”

He sighed the smirk dropping from his lips the words sounding certain as they left him. “I fucked up, Love. I thought I was doin the righ thing…lettin ye go. It fuckin hurts though. I miss ye. My heart misses ye. This past month has been miserable without ye. When I found out some fuckin cop was takin ye out on a date, I bout lost my mind. I came out here tonigh to…I don’t know…see ye from afar, maybe work up my nerve to crash yer date…try to win ye back. I figured if I got here and ye seemed happy, then I’d let ye go…but ye don’t seem happy. I don’t think either of us are happy apart, Love.”

She sighed resting against the brick wall of the building behind her the words leaving her. “I don’t know what to do with this, Filip. I mean it. I can’t deal with the emotional whiplash. This past month has sucked. I’m not happy apart from you…I’m afraid of letting you back in though. How do I know you aren’t just going to drop me the next time you get too lost in your head? I know what you are, Filip. I’m not an idiot. I care about you enough to learn to accept that side of you…I’ve been accepting thus far…I’m so hesitant to learn to trust you again though… I can’t listen to you tell me you don’t love me again. I can’t let you break my heart in some hairbrained attempt to protect me again.”

He let out a sigh of his own, his heart sinking, fearing that it was too little too late. Perhaps he’d ruined the one good thing he seemed to have going for him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat knowing he had to try to fix this. He was going to try as hard as he could. “I know I really fucked up, Lass. I swear to God though that I will spend the rest of my life tryin to make up fer how much I hurt ye. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m beggin fer ye to give me a chance. I will do whatever it takes to get ye to let me back in. I’ll work fer it day and night if that’s what it takes. Yer the best thing I got in my life…the purest, I aint known many pure things in my life. Bein with ye made me feel like I migh jus be a good man even with all the shite I’ve done and all the pain I’ve caused fer the club…Bein without ye, it’s been hell fer me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I can’t focus. I’ve been a grouchy fuck, accordin to Bobby at least.  I fuckin broke yer heart and my own in the process. I want to fix it, Love. I want to fix our hearts if yer willin to give me the chance. Jus give me the chance to put our hearts back together. Let me try.”

She felt her throat grow tight at this, her eyes growing damp, Chibs fearing she was about to tell him that there was no chance for them. His fears died as she spoke, her voice weepy. “Oh, Filip.”

She reached for him, her hand pressing to his cheek he leaning into her touch as she spoke. “I don’t want to feel this miserable ever again. Please, don’t make me feel that awful ever again.”

“Never, Love.” He reassured her his hands reaching out to press to her sides, thankful that she did not yank away from him as he pulled her into an embrace.

He leaned down his lips sliding across her, the kiss starting out slow and sweet, almost as hesitant as their very first kiss.

The kiss quickly grew deep and impassioned the realization of just how much they’d longed for one another growing apparent. 

She slid a hand down his body resting it against his denim clad cock massaging it as it began to perk up the lower region of his body very aware of just how much he’d longed for her. He groaned, pulling from the kiss his words thick with need. “Fuck, Love. Yer playin with fire here.”

She smirked at him, the words spilling from her. “I don’t mind fire.”

He moaned his hips rocking against her on their own accord eager to chance even the slightest hint of stimulation from the woman he’d feared he would never have a chance to have ever again.

He spoke that jealous little voice, unable to stop itself from working the words from him. “I have to know, Love. Did ye really fuck that cop bastard?”

She sighed, deciding that lying to him would just be cruel. She pulled her hand from his crotch ignoring the low whine that left him. “No, Filip. The last guy I slept with is you.”

He nodded his head frantically, a sense of relief washing over him. “Aye, okay…even still...”

He paused for a moment finding the words unable to stop himself from still feeling possessive of her. “I’m going to fuck ye so hard yer going to forget that guys name”

She felt a wave of lust wash over her that she knew Chibs was only capable of dragging from her. “Please.”

His lips met hers, the kiss somewhat harsh that possessive voice in the back of his head insisting that he had to claim her right here right now. She was his and she needed to be reminded of it.

His lips left hers pressing down her neck nipping at her skin roughly sucking against any marks his teeth may have left behind ensuring she’d have plenty of love bites to remind her of who she belonged to. 

His hands roamed her body she practically melting against him doing all she could to run her hands across his back caressing him over the leather of his kutte.

He ran his hands up her body yanking the front of her dress down so hard he was amazed it didn’t rip the fabric. His lips pressed down her chest nipping at the delicate skin along her cleavage wanting to leave his mark there as well.

She moaned, her head falling back, his name leaving her lips. He groaned against her his words muffled against her skin. “Aye that’s right, Love. Say my name, let everyone know jus who ye belong to.”

He yanked her bra down her breasts spilling from the cups, his lips locking down over a breast suckling harshly a whine leaving her.

He ran a hand up her dress along her hip caressing her skin as his lips focused on her breasts nipping at the skin and taking her nipples between his lips suckling eagerly.

She whined as he wasted no time to slide a hand along the lace of her panties, a groan leaving him the noise vibrating against her breast as he continued to suckle.

His hand slid eagerly under the waistband of her panties, his fingers finding her slit. He grunted rubbing her for a moment before allowing his fingers to slide between her damp center. He thrust his fingers in her stroking her walls, her knees practically buckling.

He spoke pulling from her breasts his voice sounding almost awestruck. “Yer so fuckin beautiful, so fuckin wet fer me. Just grippin down on my fingers pullin me in. This pussy missed me, aye?”

She nodded her head wordlessly a whine leaving her his fingers stopping a frustrated noise leaving her. He spoke his voice demanding. “Tell me, Love.”

“I missed you so much, Filip.” She admitted the words so needy and so true. 

He groaned, rewarding her with a thrust of his fingers curling them just right to hit a part of her that made her tremble against him. “Good girl. That’s my lass. Drippin down my fingers takin em so well.”

She moaned, not caring who might just hear her. She was sure a marching band could make their way down the alley at the moment and she would not give a damn as good as she felt at the moment.

His fingers slid across her clit, the action making her knees grow all the wobbly, her fingers digging into the leather of his kutte a high pitched whine leaving her. “Fuck.”

He smirked, rubbing circular patterned into the sensitive bud, the action making a few more curses leave her lips. 

He balanced stimulation to her clit with the thrust of his fingers into her core, the action making her feel dizzy. The only thing she could focus on was rocking her hips to chase the stimulation he provided. 

He spoke a teasing tone to his voice. “Christ, look at ye, Love. Riding my fingers, so needy fer me. Ye love this don’t ye? Me fingerin ye in the alley where anyone might see us.”

She whined nodding her head knowing this was the most risky thing she’d ever done in her life and she found it thrilling.

She knew she’d realistically be mortified if anyone walked upon this, but the risk of it all made her wetter than she was sure she’d ever been in her entire life.

He spoke, pushing her all the more. “Imagine if yer fuckin date walked up on this aye? Saw ye riding my fingers moanin fer me like a whore. Fuckin seein I’m the only one who can make ye feel this good by my fingers alone.”

“You make me feel so fucking good, Filip. No one else feels this good.” She whined the statement, working a moan from him, his lips pressing to hers in a deep bruising kiss.

She continued to ride his fingers eager to chase a release.

He encouraged her his voice demanding as he pulled from the kiss. “Play with yer clit, Love. Touch that pussy while you ride my fingers.”

She moaned, pressing her fingers to his lips, he taking them between his lips sucking them wetting them for her.

She pulled her hand from his lips reaching down as he demanded toying with her clit, the task not easy with the fuss of working around the skirt of her dress and her panties.

She rubbed circles into her clit frantically trying to increase the pleasure she felt.

She whined the heat beginning to pool in her abdomen, a coil tightening within her proving that she was so incredibly close to falling over the edge.

She spoke the words needy. “Going to cum.”

“That’s my love. Want ye to fuckin cum. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Let go fer me.” He encouraged her his eyes unable to leave her as she neared her release, her skin flushed, her lips parted, her head fallen back, her chest heaving. 

She was unable to stop the high pitched moan from leaving her as she let go her thighs shaking her center clenching and unclenching around his fingers.

He continued to finger her throughout the orgasm he moaning his cock throbbing desperate to be within her his manhood feeling envious of his fingers.

She whined as she came down from her orgasm, his touch becoming too much all too quickly. She slumped against him as he pulled his fingers from her.

She kept a tight grip on him almos sure she’d collapse to the ground if he was not holding her up.

She moaned as he pulled his fingers up to his lips, sucking them, cleaning her taste from them, a satisfied groan leaving his lips.

 He pulled his fingers from his lips pressing his lips to hers sharing her taste with her. She moaned against the kiss his hand roaming her body as she recovered from the intensity of her orgasm.

He pulled from the kiss his words needy. “Want ye so bad, Love. Let me fuck ye.”

She whined nodding her head the words that left her just as full of need. “Please, Filip. Need you so much.”

He groaned, reaching down and unfastening his belt with skilled hands. He unzipped his jeans unbuttoning them. He yanked his boxers down just enough to pull his hard cock from the confines of the fabric.

She moaned, reaching between them her hand wrapping around his cock he grunting at the touch. Her thumb ran along his slit spreading the precum leaking from him, he moaning at the action.

He spoke resisting the urge to thrust against her hand though the temptation to spit in her hand and demand she jerk him off a tempting one. "Shite, m'love."

He could picture cumming from her touch spilling his release against her hand, maybe even letting a little of it land on her sweet little dress. He smirked at the thought a possessive voice in the back of his head exclaiming that he’d mark her so clearly making it obvious she was all his.

He spoke his voice demanding as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “Get rid of those panties, Love. Give me room to fuck ye.”

She did was she was told, reaching down to place her fingers under the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs letting them land against the concrete below them not caring what happened to them as long as it meant having his perfect cock buried in her.

He groaned, taking himself in hand, sliding it along her wet pussy, the words leaving him. “Gonna fuck ye so good, Love. Gonna ruin ye for any other man.”

“Already have.” She whined the words so honest. 

She knew her heart was his. She was trusting him to take care of her and make this right with her.

He groaned the words spilling from him. “Fuckin ruined me too, Sweet Lass. Ye belong with me. Yer all I fuckin want, forever.”

He moved his hands to her thighs encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips allowing him to press her against the wall for support.

She wrapped her arms around him clutching on to him desperately trusting him to keep her held upwards. She spoke the words needy. “I’m addicted to you. You’re mine.”

He spoke positioning his cock at the entrance the words possessive. “Yer fuckin mine too. My ol lady, only mine, till the breath leave my body.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond as he slid himself home entering her inch by inch hissing at the sensation of her velvety soaking walls enveloping his cock. 

He spoke his words low and full of praise. “Perfect fuckin pussy. Belongs wrapped round me, only me.”

“Only you.” She moaned agreeing her head falling back as he began to rock against her his hips jerking against her desperately proving he was intent on fucking her.

His hips rocked against her frantically pushing her back up against the wall, his hand reaching up to press to the back of her head not wanting to slam her head into the rough brick wall behind them.

She whined clutching on to him all the tighter, letting herself sink into the sensation of him. Her lips pressed to his trying her best to muffle her moans.

He moaned against her lips the sensation of her wrapped around him so heavenly. He knew no one had ever felt so incredible wrapped around him.

He may have taunted her commenting that he was capable of fucking her so hard that she couldn’t walk the next day, but it was the truth. He knew she was so capable of taking all he had to give her.

She thrived equally on the rougher encounters they had as well as the softer slow love making sessions. Each time he had the privilege of taking her he was reminded of how lucky he was.

He had not been lying. She had ruined him for other women. 

He was hopelessly devoted to her. She took him so perfectly and she loved him so deeply. She loved him for all he was, even his imperfections. She saw the good in him that others disregarded.

She was his saving grace at the end of the day. He knew he could protect her. He could make sure she could remain his sweet loving ol lady who made him shortbread and slept peacefully by his side at night trusting him to care for her.

He kept thrusting in her his hips not losing speed knowing he was desperate not only to chase his release but to help her reach hers as well. 

He spoke his voice low and filled with adoration. “Look at ye, fuckin cock drunk on me. Can’t think bout nothin but how good I feel.”

She whimpered, nodding her head the words struggling to leave her lips. “Feels so good, Filip.”

He spoke a moan of approval leaving him. “Feels perfect, Love. Takin my cock so well. Shite, I love ye.”

“Love you.” She responded, her fingers digging into his back as he continued to take her against the wall.

She whined, able to hear the sounds of cars passing by only feet away.  The alleyway was dark enough out and there were no lights nearby to reveal that she was being fucked in such a public place.

This felt so filthy but so perfect. This was so dangerous, just as dangerous as him, and she loved it. She loved how risky this felt. She loved the man desperately fucking her making her center ache around him dripping against his cock. 

She knew he was the only man on this entire planet who could make her feel this good and the only man she would trust to take her in such a vulnerable place.

He would protect her; she knew this. She trusted him to take care of her and keep her safe. He would prove to her that he was devoted to her and would cherish her heart just as dearly as she cherished his.

He moaned the words leaving his lips. ‘Gonna take ye slower the second I get ye home. Gonna take ye so many times tonight, Lovely girl. Gonna remind ye that this pussy belongs to me.”

She whined, nodding her head frantically. “Missed you so much, Filip.”

He groaned, nodding his head. “Aye, missed ye, Love. Never goin to make ye miss me again. Never gonna fuck this up ever again, Love. Gonna keep ye by my side as long yer willin to have me.”

“Want you forever.” She whined the words so certain, making his heart ache with absolute adoration.

“Aye, forever.” He worked out his eyes locked on her, she by far the most stunning woman he’d ever seen and ever had the privilege of loving. 

She moaned, her hand pulling from his back sliding down her body finding her slick clit. He moaned realizing what she was doing as she began to rub at the bud of nerves so eagerly. “Such a good lass. Touchin that pussy fer me. Jeysus, Love. Play with yer wee clit make yerself cum on this cock.”

She whimpered his words encouraging her, she wanting to make herself cum for him. She wanted him to know how good he made her feel. She wanted him to know he was the only man capable of making her feel so good. 

He spoke becoming lost in lust, the words falling from him, his balls aching knowing he was closer than he’d prefer to be. “Fuckin cum on my cock and let me cum in ye. Fuck, make yerself cum. Wanna fill ye up so bad. Want my cum to drip from ye. Gonna fuckin put yer panties back on ye, not clean ye up even. Want ye to know I’m claimin what’s mine. Gonna be our wee secret, Gonna take ye home on my bike with my cum leakin from ye.”

She moaned at the statement knowing he was truly the only man who could say such absolute filth to her without her feeling bashful. If anything the dirty talk just egged her on.

She’d not had too many partners prior to him but he was by far the best she’d ever had. 

She rubbed her clit knowing just how to touch herself to help her along the path to a release. She’d had more experience in getting herself off before meeting Chibs Telford.

She’d discovered that with Chibs around she rarely had to rely on getting herself off. He was always eager to make her feel incredible even when he was exhausted.

She felt her toes curl at the sensations building up in her, she knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now.  She could feel her orgasm building in her, the fire spreading through her knowing it would burn so hot for him. 

She trembled against him, her thighs growing tense, her body jerking against him. Her fingers did not let up on her clit, her center clenching around his cock eagerly attempting to milk his release from him as she fell over the edge.

She pressed her lips against his a cry leaving her lips as she came.

He moaned the feel of her fluttering around his cock absolute perfection. It did not take long for his own end to sneak up on him, his balls drawing up close to his body, his cock throbbing.

He spilled into her as he fell over the edge, his words spilling against her lips, his accent growing so thick she could not even make out the words. “Fuckin take it, Love. Yer mine.”

She whined the warmth of his release filling her in hot spurts making her shudder against him. She clung on to him, her body feeling weak and so incredibly satisfied. 

He moaned the last of his release, desperately spilling from him into her his own knees feeling wobbly.

He pressed her further into the wall knowing he felt shaky enough that he feared not being able to hold her up as well as he should.

He pressed lazy kisses to her lips a low moan leaving him as he softened enough to slide from her body a shudder leaving him as the cold air hit his spent cock.

He spoke a drowsy giggle leaving him. “Christ, Love. Thank God fer the pill.”

She felt her own giggle leave her, she shaking her head. “Beats the hell out of condoms.” 

He smirked knowing she was the first woman he’d been with in a long while where condoms weren’t an absolute necessity. 

His experiences prior to her had consisted of croweaters who he was so not going into fucking without a rubber. 

He’d made it quite clear to her though that he only had eyes for her and he had a clean bill of health. So the pill had become their main form of contraception until the day they decided they might want to bring a few tiny Telfords into the world.

It was a possibility they’d discussed, and Chibs had been shocked to find that he didn’t mind the idea of possibly giving her a child at some point in the future even if it worried him to know he’d most likely be an older parent.

The idea of her having his child did fill him with an undeniable sense of pride though. 

She lowered her thighs from his hips he continuing to hold her up her knees feeling like jello at the moment.

She rolled her eyes not missing the proud smirk on his lips at the realization that he’d made her so unsteady on her feet especially in heels.

He tucked himself back into his boxers hastily zipping his jeans back up and refastening his belt.

He pressed his lips to hers lowering her dress back down the words leaving him. “Never goin to risk losin ye again, m’love. Need ye in my life. Never fuckin this up ever again. I love ye.”

She placed a hand on his cheek, her lips pressing to his, the words spilling from her. “I love you too, never letting you take the risk of losing me again. You can’t get rid of me, Filip. I’m yours.”

He nodded his head, a sense of comfort washing over him any fears he’d had of tainting her or destroying her seeming way too far away to grasp. “I’m yours. Ye ain’ gettin rid of me either.”

She closed her eyes as he held her against him, rocking her against him soaking up the comfort of belonging to one another.

Her heart once again felt full.

She knew they would not part again. He was hers just as much as she was his.

She would never lose him ever again.

[highlynerdy]

"I do it because I want to protect him from the world, and sometimes from myself. I want to tell him every secret I ever had, and yet I never want to make him choose, to see the hurt in his eyes, to put this, too, on him. I want-I want so many things. Sometimes, I just want."

Turning The Page by @queerofthedagger / art by @schweetheart

I started this fanARTifact in July 2021 and finally, finally finished it in September 2024. Click below to see so many more pictures and read probably too much about the project.

This project was a LABOR OF LOVE because y'all...I failed so, so many times during the making of it. I had grand dreams of all the things that I was going to do and learn and every single time I tried something it was like the universe telling me to go ahead and go fuck myself, we're not doing that. But it's done and I'm pleased with it. I hope Mona and Schweets are. Let's talk about the process.

I read this story back in July 2021 when it came out and immediately wrote @schweetheart on July 23, 2021 to ask if I could use her art for the back because it was such a crucial part of the story.

She graciously allowed me to use it, and even sent me a high res file so I could have the portrait of Arthur printed on art paper.

THEN. My brilliantly stupid self decided that just making the book wasn't enough. I mean, I had already done that for Arthur's journal back in 2020 and I am nothing if not a nutter about learning to do new things, especially for my fanARTifact series.

SO. I'm going to learn to make paper. Yeah. Totally a reasonable escalation in terms of new skills, right?? ......... Nope. I bought a small 5x7 mould and deckle to practice with and some cotton linters to make the pulp. Twas. A. Failure. I didn't have a press or the felts or the sizing needed to make the paper actually, ya know, usable. This was the first time I put the project down for a while.

Moving on to another new skill in late 2021, I decided that I wanted to make the walnut ink myself. Luckily, I was part of a pigment subscription in 2020 (that is a hell of a nerdy statement, even for me) and had all the supplies in my art studio to attempt this endeavor.

I didn't fail this part! Fucking huzzah for small miracles. Now I had two small bottles of black walnut ink to use for the calligraphy that I wanted to do for some of the excerpts. Except now I was stuck again on the paper making part so I put it back down again for an eternity.

Picking it back up in late 2022, I asked Mr. Highlynerdy to make a custom size mould and deckle for me so I could have long pieces to fold for my signatures. It was his first time doing anything like this but he's a buddy and a pal and gave it a try. Surprising no one if you've read this far, we both failed this part. Even now, I'm still not sure we succeeded but eventually we did get something workable. And considering professional mould and deckles cost in the hundreds of dollars...yeah, it'll do.

It took a hot ass minute for me to feel ready to attempt the paper making again but once I was ready, I ordered wet, pre-beaten pulp from Twinrocker. A very curt man on the phone helped me figure out what I needed and added internal sizing to the pulp I ordered. I didn't take pictures of any of the paper stuff because it was very messy and annoying. Once again, Mr. Highlynerdy helped me rig up a drying box with tri-wall cardboard and ratchet straps and a box fan. Once the paper was dry, I used a gelatin mixture to paint on external sizing. Since I'm primarily a painter, I needed the paper to be able to handle ink, paint, pencil. Sizing paper is the only way to do this, but no worries, I won't go further into the nerdy details about this.

Once the paper was ready, I decided to sew the text block. Here's another part where I failed YET A-FUCKING-GAIN. I talked before on Arthur's Journal post about how books were very, very rare in the 6th century (Arthurian period), but BBC Merlin is soooooo anachronistic that it's fiiiiiine to just do what I wanted. HOWEVER. I did want to try to do visible spine binding. But. Unfortunately I had gone ahead and used all of my paper to bind the text block as if I was going to case it in. FUUUUUUUCCCCCK. It's fine. We're fine. Come on, brain. What can we do.

Well, what we CAN'T do is use a piece of leather from my large remnant that I bought for my first journal because someone - FUCKING ME - measured and cut the last piece NOT TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THE WIDTH of the text block. So now it doesn't fit. And refusing to buy a new piece of leather I'm forced to pivot once again.

I decided to cut the leather spine even shorter, buy some wood pieces and sand them, paint them a matte black, and then glue the leather to those pieces. Cool cool cool. We're moving on. I tested a lot of different glues for this and good ol' super glue ended up being the clear winner. Cue putting this project away again for a whiiiillle.

In October 2023, I decided to pull it out again and do the calligraphy and drawings I wanted. This story has so many gorgeous parts but I finally decided on the first page, the last page, and the page about Gaius.

I mixed my handmade walnut ink with my beloved Finetec gold and used the quills I bought from John Neal Booksellers to practice my Uncial. I shouldn't have been rusty after lettering an entire fic for this fanARTifact, but I was.

The little dragon was inspired by medieval manuscript dragons I found.

Narratively, I loved the idea that Merlin's writing would start off soft and delicate and become stronger by the end of the journal. Also, I loved that the end word "WANT" would be just gold because the ink blend changes throughout. Something magical or whatever.

This part needed tears. They might have been real ones...

Annnnnnnnd, the project was put down again until a few days ago when I decided, after getting back into Merlin fic, I needed to buck up and finish it.

I did so many tests for the cover. I tried embossing, carving, and debossing and hated all of them. I settled on painting it with acrylic paints in the shape of a Celtic knot sort of pattern. I originally wanted to do a triskelion but after reading a bit about how some asshole groups have co-opted the symbol for shitty purposes, I decided against it. It's a mix of black and gold and it's hard to capture the depth of it through photos...eh, I did what I could.

Still. Something wasn't quite working with the brown leather and the black covers with the new symbol so I broke out my matte black leather paint and decided to go all black.

All I had left to do was glue in the text block and it would be done! And that still took me a few days to work up the courage. The book opens nice and flat, which will be good for me as I will use it as a sketchbook.

Sitting here, on September 1st, I have completed a project that taught me many new skills and also taught me a lot about humility and perseverance. There was no way I was going to abandon this project, and maybe I should have started over many of the times, but I am quite in love with the final result and I just hope that it does it's inspiration proud. Thank you @queerofthedagger Mona for all you create and share with the Merlin fandom, and thank you @schweetheart for allowing me to use your gorgeous art.

Also, you may see quite a few other fanARTifacts in this photoshoot because I will use any opportunity to show them off lol.

If you read to the end of this, you deserve a cocktail and a cookie. Thank you. 💛✨✨

[chuluoyi]

A suggestion: a drunk Satoru! Maybe in the middle of his slurring he delulu seeing Suguru, the rest is up to you! <3

wasted

- gojo satoru x reader

your boyfriend is a very uncooperative drunk, and chaos (read: innuendo) caused by it ensues.

genre/warnings: a crack fic, takes place during gojo's past arc because i just love that setting so much, slight profanity, mildly suggestive

notes: okay nonnie, i have some ideas regarding this *wink*

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Gojo Satoru is straight up a bad drunk. He even said so himself, and everyone could attest to that.

So why did you let him drink at this godforsaken bar?

"Shokooo!" Satoru flailed his glass, wobbling on his feet. He sounded so unhinged that made the people next table gave him stink eyes. "Give me anoth-er! Anotheeeer!"

"Hells," Shoko winced at the sight, her hands moving the beer bottle away from his reach. "No, you're positively wasted."

You plucked the glass out of his hands. "Cut it out, Gojo. You're making a scene!"

"Anooo—" he hiccupped, his weight dangerously leaning on you in an attempt to get his glass back as well as forcing Shoko to grant him another cup. "—theerrr! Anotherrr! Shokooo! C'mon!"

"Do something about him! Or else we're going to be stuck here."

"I'm trying!"

This whole night was a total mishap. None of you are of age, and therefore neither of you should have gone out for drinks by falsifying your IDs. Shoko initially just invited you and Nanami, until the latter promptly declined when Satoru sprung out of nowhere and declared himself going.

He whipped his head so suddenly when the bell in the entrance of the bar jingled. A customer walked in, and he was a total stranger—neither you or Shoko recognized him.

“Oh my… isn’t that…”

But Satoru, teary-eyed in his drunken haze, seemed to see far beyond you did. "...Suguru? Suguruuuu!"

"Oh God, no!" You kept your hands on his waist tightly as he almost leapt out to barrel towards the poor stranger. "Shoko! Help!"

"Gojo, you shithead! He is not! Stop it!"

"But he is! Suguruuuu~!"

And so his thrashing and the ruckus he caused got the three of you kicked out of the bar. Shoko immediately washed her hands off him by saying that she was hopping to the next bar and left you struggling to keep your balance, with Satoru heavily leaning on you as the two of you trek across the road to Jujutsu High compound.

"Gojo—don't do that! Keep walking!"

"Mmmmm~" he slurred, swaying to the left and right as he pleased and you swore, one more time and you would fling him to the asphalt. "Why Gojo? It's Satoru! Sa-to-ru!"

"Come on you ass, we need to go back!" you hissed.

"Say my name first!"

And when he deliberately swayed dangerously to the side, you really let him go—and then he hit the sidewalk.

You wanted to scream. Satoru merely burst into a fit of giggles though.

Somehow, you managed to get him back. But this whole disaster didn't end there as right after you unlocked his door, he suddenly pushed his whole weight on you, making you bump into the counter.

"It hurts! Satoru, you idiot!" You scowled, rubbing your stinging shoulder—it would probably leave a nasty bruise. And it caught his attention. Satoru turned to you, his sparkly eyes boring right into yours.

"You're pwetty," he jabbed a finger at your face, slurring. You flinched at how close his finger to your eye socket was.

"Thank you." You swat his finger away, not in favor of the possibility of being blind tonight. "Now we must get you to the bed. Come—"

You apparently didn't know that alcohol could mess his system so much that it came as a total surprise when he crashed his lips onto yours without warning. "Mmfh!"

Satoru grabbed the back of your head and entangled his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. It was searing, his tongue attacking your mouth and sometimes bit your lips and he was so good—

He then led you to his bed, and tore your shirt open, his deft hands caressing and fondling everything your body had to offer, and for a moment even you felt drunk too. It was intoxicating how quickly he rendered you putty, how the blue in his eyes darkened with desire, and it was all for you—

"Sweetheart," he whispered in a low, scratchy voice. "Now, open up for me, yeah?"

You barely caught the meaning of his words when a finger inside you made you see stars. Your eyes widened, and your moans were muffled when he shoved his mouth again against yours. It was dizzying, and you felt lost in his arms, as he kept twisting his finger inside.

This certainly wasn't what you imagined it was going to be. You two were a couple, and couples fuck. But this... you had half a mind to push him away, and you were really going to, when he suddenly pulled away from the kiss, gazing at you with half-lidded, unfocusing eyes and sloppy grin.

"... really... you are..."

And to your horror, he suddenly collapsed, his full weight squashing you.

You blinked in disbelief. What just happened? You felt like a starfish pinned under a rock.

And all you could fathom now was that this grown-ass man child had left you aroused and wet down there.

When Satoru woke up the next morning, he was in a shocking amount of hangover. There was this dull ache in the back of his head and forefront of his temples, and he felt nauseous. He braced himself against the headboard, willing it to pass.

He had been drinking. He took a mental note not to ever drink again. He always feels so miserable afterwards. What possessed him to go for it last night? Darn him and his impulsivity.

He remembered thinking the world had became such a happy place. He remembered seeing Suguru and thinking he had come to give him a hug. He remembered you sulking against him, and you looked so freaking cute that he couldn't help but pounce on you altogether.

And that's where his memory blanked out. What happened afterwards?

Then he realized that you were beside him on this very bed. He looked at you, who had barely cocooned yourself in the blanket. Your hair was in disarray, a few buttons of your shirt loosened—missing, even? And is that what he thinks it is on your neck?

Did he bite you so hard that you bled?

Dread pooled at his gut at the possibility of what he had done.

"Hey," he muttered, shaking you, in a state of half-panic. "Hey—wake up, please."

You whined at the rude awakening, cracking one eye open. "Satoru..." your voice was still thick with sleep and a deep frown creased on your face. "...what is it?"

And Satoru shuddered. The way his name rolled from your lips so languidly seemed to ignite something feral within him, but he ignored it.

"Hey, uh—are you... are you okay?"

"Huh?" you shot him an annoyed grunt. "It's still early, Satoru. Please, I need sleep. I'm tired after the shit you pulled on me last night."

"What shit?" he tried to sound unconcerned with the way you referred it, but he still gulped.

"...you don't remember?"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Gods..." now you were frustrated. You buried your face in the pillow. "You put me through hell, Satoru. And not to mention—"

"Did I force myself on you?" he asked with a lower tone. "If I did, I'm... sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Hu—what?"

Satoru felt another wave of nausea at his gut, and he tried to suppress it. "I didn't mean to wreck you. I know I'm lousy, but that definitely wasn't what I planned."

Confusion was palpable on your face, even though you were still half-asleep. "Sure... it's okay..."

"I..." Satoru was at a loss of words. You were all but confirming that he did rail you in the worst way. He wasn't exactly the type who would make the first time memorable or such, but he certainly didn't want it to be a forceful act on a spur of a drunken night. What could he say to that?

"Satoru? You don't seem well," you furrowed your brows, noticing how restless and pale he was. "Are you having hangover? Do you want some water?"

He wanted to kick himself as his sanity eaten away by the sheer guilt and shame. He pressed both hands to cover his face. "I'm so uncool..."

"Finally you're realizing it. Would be better if you do it during the day and not—" You checked your phone. "—at freaking five in the morning. But seriously, are you doing okay? You drank quite a lot last night."

No, he wasn't. The urge to puke was still there and his head was still pounding.

"What's gotten into you?" now worry was present in your tone. "Satoru, please. You're acting strange. It's still to early for whatever it is that you're plotting. Just tell me if you're not feeling well."

He stayed quiet for a while, trying to remember to what extend the damage he had done. But you seemed to translate it as him not feeling well as you let out a sigh and begrudgingly sat up to get him a glass of water. Poor you, he thought. Should he take an advantage of you fully and unashamedly just like he usually did?

You handed him the glass. "Here, drink this." He took it, but just stared at it. His crestfallen expression made you twitch in irritation. "Drink already. What are you thinking anyway?"

"Don't you... resent me?" Satoru mumbled with resignation, finally having the courage to look at you.

"For what? Last night?"

"What else? Why are you still worrying about me?"

"That's..." you faltered, bewildered. "You feel that bad about it? Satoru, you were a pain but it's your everyday thing already so be grateful that I'm not holding it against you."

"Everyday thing?" he asked incredulously. "Hey, it's—that's not something I do everyday!"

"It sure is! You are always whining, being dramatic and causing trouble!"

"Hey, but it's not about that! I'm talking about how I almost did you with violence!"

"Do... me?"

"That!" he pointed at your bruised neck, then looked away with guilt. "I... don't know how it escalated to that, but I'm truly sorry."

You reached to the bruise, somewhere between your neck and shoulder, and winced a bit. "Ah this. You pushed me and I crashed into that cupboard."

"Oh?" Satoru blinked in surprise. "And that, your shirt? Your missing buttons?"

"You tore it, but then you fell on me, you idiot."

"So... I didn't rape you?"

Your face immediately burst into the shades of red. You scrunched up your face in exasperation. "I'll blast you if you did it without my consent, Gojo Satoru. But thankfully no."

A whole load of self-blame dissipated from him and he almost laughed had the urge to throw up not this overwhelming.

"Apparently you're decent enough to think if you've wronged me. It's a surprise," you mused with a smug grin.

"Of course I am!" he scowled. But suddenly his queasiness shot up, and his vision blurred. And what came next was the contents of his stomach.

"Satoru! What the hell!? Don't vomit on me!"

Epilogue

"And that's what happened," you explained with contempt. Satoru puckered his lips in indignation, meanwhile Shoko threw her head back, wheezing in a fit of laughter.

"Gojo, you're such a baby," she cackled with satisfaction. "Losing against mere alcohol. Not the strongest, after all, huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "I hope your liver rots from drinking and smoking so much."

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT Chapter 2 Episode 14: First Impressions

Episode 14!!! If Ep 11 really was the 70% mark (apparently the dev said that but don’t quote me on it, I saw it in a YT comment), then it only goes up to Ep 16. In the first trial, the culprit was revealed in Ep 10, then Ep 11 was their final defense as the class unraveled all the remaining mysteries, and Ep 12 was mostly post-trial. If the pattern repeats, this might be the episode we get our culprit reveal!!! And it seems likely, with the forty minute mark. So excited!!!

Also fine if it doesn’t happen if course, but we’ll see!

Spoilers for CH2 EP14. CW: Hanging, murder, Eden!Culprit and Ace!Culprit discussion, blood and wires.

Nico! Nico! Explain the blood on the wires and my life is yours!!! I’m still surprised Teruko got “hanging” out of that crime scene to be honest.

Ace is so funny. He’s technically right that people should ask the victim and not just the killer, but he has nothing to offer.

“That’s why she didn’t ask you.” J really is becoming the voice of reason huh?

“It’s hard to remember the evidence.” (Paraphrased). Eden.

[Teruko lists the evidence] And… she omitted the tape. Yeah, the trial would get pretty derailed if Rose noticed the oddity there right away.

Wow, immediately Rebuttal Showdown let’s go! Really cool Hu animation. I wonder if she’ll end up being the Ace attacker or not? She could still just be defending Nico because.

“That’s why I have to interrogate Nico.” I love the voice acting, the chillest Rebuttal Showdown ever so far xD

[Sword Reveal] Fan?… Oh, because the fan being broken implies a hanging, right? That’s where she’s going with this?

“Lost their temper at Ace” is not how I will put attempted murder, Hu, but you do you.

[Cut] Oh, the fan was used as a pulley??? Fucking how???

“The fan being broken would suggest a hanging.” (Paraphrased) Oh I was kinda right with my start of RS guess.

“Isn’t that wire Hu’s custom weapon?” Woo, Whit with the brain cell!

“Nico stole from Rose, so they stole from [Hu]” (Paraphrased) Yeah! Teruko and I think alike!

[Hu triple dots] Was the wire stolen? I’m almost second guessing it with how reluctant she is to say that.

{Hindsight between keys: Man I went back and forth a lot this episode huh}

[Veronika talks about Nico planning for the trial] Even though that kinda contradicts what Nico said earlier (I guess maybe they lied, makes sense in retrospect), yeah she’s right (assuming they aren’t wrong about Nico trying to frame Hu). Is she trying to help her newfound bestie, Hu?

“Did they even want to learn to paint?” Poor Rose T_T Also Nico please say something.

“If something was bothering you, you could have talked about it with someone you trusted!” You know, Eden tried to do that with Teruko, and Teruko shot her down. I wonder if that’ll come into play…

“I don’t trust anyone here.” :O Well that’s a reveal.

Woo new Hu sprite! She is breaking down! But bestie please I don’t think you can fix them!

“Hu, I—“ Nico looks so done lmao.

“You trust me, right?” They just say they didn’t. Man, she is not beating the savior complex allegations with this one, huh?

Bro please let Nico talk.

“Are you a billionaire? Because that’s rich!” Ace you are not as clever as you think you are. xD

“Murder is murder…” Indeed, J the voice of reason.

“Why can’t either Ace or Nico simply tell us what happened?” You know we’re fucked when Arturo’s the voice of reason. Although I imagine Ace will shout at him that he doesn’t remember because he was unconscious.

[Ace shouts at Arturo] Got the reason wrong, but the shouting was there.

“Don’t throw two birds and a stone in a glass house, asshole.” Mixing two idiots there, big guy.

“They put some sort of cloth on my mouth…” Ah, there’s the unconsciousness shouting. By the way, full confirmation turpentine is just chloroform in this universe, nice.

[Charles lays down the law on Hu] Thank you, resident brain cell holder! How did they even get out of the first trial without you?

“I was going to!” Yo new Nico sprite is crazy!!! They’re going in!

“I was going to…” Oh, they’re trying to remain calm. That’s pretty cool of them!

“If you say what you think happened, I’ll help.” (Paraphrased) Yeah I was wondering how the dev was gonna write this without it being a twenty minute Nico monologue, this tracks.

Yo “fake” Closing Argument is crazy.

THE FUCKING LIGHT!!!! HOW THE FUCK DID IT NOT OCCUR TO ANY OF THE FIFTEEN PEOPLE THAT TRIED TO SOLVE THIS!!! I guess cause nothing pointed to it but y’know.

“How would that have worked?” Broom to move the fan? I came up with that in my original theory on this thing, though I think that was for the very first method which was clinically insane.

[Broom reveal] Ah, close but not quite. That’s actually quite smart! I’m surprised no one thought of that either.

[Releasing wire] …Am I stupid or does this not work? What would the wire get caught on?

{Yeah I still don’t think I get it? Like if the wire was moving from above the fan to around the broom, there’s nothing stopping it from going from around the broom to above the fan, so Ace would just fall. Did it get caught on the tape somehow? But how would Nico be able to put it around the broom then? Also how does the fan break? The wire would exert force from above and the side, not below, which is what the image makes it look like. I don’t think I understood this I’m so sorry.}

Oh, Ace woke up before the murder attempt was over! Good job badjoe for calling that!

Also are we far enough in to confirm Nico did this by themselves? I don’t have anything against those that believed otherwise, but I personally like it better this way. I imagine the theories aren’t 100% dead, as always, but y’know.

“And then I… Y’know…” THAT’S WHY THE BLOOD ON THE WIRES DOESN’T MAKE FUCKING SENSE!!! Man, as much as I love the EP 6 CG, it was not clear at all that they were that close, especially when the loose wire seemed closer to the entrance. {Looking back, yeah, I’m just not good at perspective on these rooms. The wires were closer to Ace than it looked}.

… Well there’s the small bit on the end of the loose wire that I’m still not sure how it got there, but close enough!

{Yeah it’s not. Believe it or not, I don’t even think the canon method fully explains the fucking blood.

How the fuck was Nico using this exactly? I imagine the small bit of blood on the end is from the noose (which funnily enough, I kinda called there would be a noose, just got where Ace’s neck would be wrong), so then the middle is the part they used as a garrote. But… then where did the blood on the wire on the fan come from? Where they using both simultaneously?

Am I losing my fucking mind? How is it possible I still don’t understand the evidence even after All That? Has my brain simply rotted? And don’t even get me started on everything that wasn’t brought up! What the hell even is this case?

Then again, it’s midnight when I’m writing these hindsight observations, so I don’t think I’m operating at full brain capacity}

“What an interesting murder plan.” Veronika I love you.

“I tried to kill Ace and pin the murder on Hu. What else should I say?” I love you too Nico.

“And after all’s said and done, you can’t even say something as simple as “sorry”?” … Is Nico about to secret quote us?

“I tried to kill you because I don’t like you. Even now, there’s still no use to try and pretend that I like you. If I say “sorry,” you’re still going to hate me. So what else should I say?” Okay crisis averted. Still, this is a really interesting perspective, and I love it a lot. It calls back to Nico not understanding niceties like “please pass the salt,” which, relatable. If they’re not sorry, and Ace won’t get anything out of it, why lie? Very fun.

“D-Do you even regret what you did?” Poor Rose she’s taking this so badly T_T She still doesn’t have an answer as if Nico ever wanted to paint or not.

“I’m not Levi; of course I feel bad about something like that! I’m not heartless!” Yikes on calling Levi heartless, but interesting line for character analysis I guess.

“That was the worst choice that I’ve made in my life.” Wow, really cool new sprite and a lot of Nico info, this is awesome for us Nico enjoyers! (I call myself a Nico enjoyer like I don’t love every single character in the cast lol).

“My teachers, my classmates, my father…” Holy shit this is depressing.

“I’m not the victim here.” Damn, Nico. Just loving all this.

“So I don’t see the point in acting sorry.” Holy shit the sprites and the writing are on point today! {I’m sorry if my commentary’s not exactly thrilling, sometimes I’m just too invested to do anything but stare in awe.}

Rose: “I don’t know how to feel anymore” Sibling can you please give her a fucking answer damn.

“What does this have to do with the case? Everything.” Are we… doing “the pulley was used because they weren’t strong enough to murder otherwise” or…? I don’t know where else this would go.

“Coincidence? Hardly.” Does… Does Teruko already have Eden clocked (heh) as the murderer? No, right? It’s the strength thing probs.

“…They specifically intended for this murder case to be similar to Nico’s murder.” Wait does she actually think it’s Ace or Eden what?

[Non-stop, Bound Wrists] … I have nothing. Nico didn’t bind Ace’s wrists. What is happening.

[Bullet fired] Okay, slight nitpick that I’m pretty sure bothers me and no one else. I get that it’s hard to come up with phrases to shoot bullets at, but “there’s no evidence of that” or some variation is the thing that gets shot in, like, 90% of these Non-Stops Debates. Again, not really important, just wanted to point out a pet peeve of mine.

“One of the pieces of evidence was taken directly from the crime scene…” Oh now we’re bringing up the tape! Teruko didn’t identify it in the spinny thing so I was wondering if she was going to make the connection on her own, but I guess I should have never doubted the Queen.

“I finally figured out what this tape is…” Okay that makes sense. But has she actually clocked (heh x2) that Eden or Ace must have taken it? She’s acting real chill about it.

“It’s the tape from the gym.” (Paraphrased) Woo! It feels super satisfying to finally read those words in a trial setting. Another exceedingly common badjoe W, as they’re who pointed out the tape’s disappearance to me.

“That time Rose and I went to the gym together…” Oh so she knows knows.

“But didn’t MonoTV clean up the gym?” Yeah that would be convenient for you huh. There’s still a chance Ace is the culprit and she’s trying to defend him, but it’s looking rough.

{Actually in retrospect yeah what the fuck?}

“…I attempted to restore the gym to its original condition.” Which would include the tape being there. It might be over chat.

“… why didn’t you recognize it earlier, Rose?” She didn’t look at the crime scene queen. But it was in the trash. Geez Rose is just gonna feel awful after this trial, I’m really interested to see where her character will go.

“Wooow!” Fucking David jumpscare-

Yo why’s David of all people being a hater you wanted them to lose the trial.

[David blames Arturo for Arei’s death] Considering Felicity, low blow. I hate David so much (/affectionate).

“I can’t even recall what day that happened.” Oh so she’s breaking down breaking down.

[Rose speech] The Rose angst is insane this episode, I’m loving every second. In addition, there might be a line here that could point to Rose!MM. But to keep the habit, I’m not elaborating on that (on this post).

“Rose. You are helpful.” Let me ignore the Terurose agenda for a moment and point out that Teruko’s still being way too chill about this if she’s about to call out Eden. Is she putting on a front? She mentioned hurting when Eden talked to her in the kitchen, so she probably does care, but isn’t letting herself show it? Oof if true.

“That I could be dismissive […] without consequences.” Oh we might be starting the “Teruko learns to trust a bit again” arc sooner than I expected. Cool! Also she’s not about to secret quote us right? {She wasn’t}.

“Thank you, Rose.” Okay I am no longer ignoring the Terurose agenda this ship is about to pop off I feel and I love that.

“…that tells me exactly who the murderer could be.” It might be Edenover.

Select Two People! But she said after Ace ran out, right? Is she gonna point at Ace and Eden, or herself and Eden?

Nope, Ace and Eden. Well, those are the two I landed on!

“It’s you two, right?” [Voice Line] You make it sound like Ace!Accomplice or Eden!Accomplice are even like remotely possible, and I find that funny.

“What’s your reasoning?” Veronika I love you but she’s spent the last ten minutes explaining her reasoning.

By the way, while Teruko’s repeating more or less the same lockdown logic I must have explained in at least three or four different posts (honestly kinda surreal ngl), it’s gonna be really funny if the only reason the class can confidently rule out Teruko as a suspect is because her handwriting sucks too much which is honestly the best argument for her innocence besides protag privilege :v

“I’m the least suspicious because I’ve been helping” is the second best argument lol.

“But to be frank, most of you are incapable of [acting logically]” Tell ‘em Teruko!

I’ll refrain from pointing bv out every suspicious Eden line because I always feel like I’m leaning too much on confirmation bias for it, but let’s be clear, I’m seeing them.

Hu: “Eden isn’t the killer! Don’t accuse her!” Bro.

“I do have evidence!” BDA?

Called it! If we’re bringing it up this early, though… I’m assuming it’s not so simple.

“You all are moving way too fucking fast.” I feel the same way Ace. {For the first time in the trial}.

“Hold on.” Wait is David gonna be the one to bring in the possible workaround(s)? Why the- I thought you wanted to lose? What the fuck is he even doing anymore???

“Oh my my my. That’s an issue.” You saw the body didn’t you.

“Because I’m actually the first person to see the body.” Well, there goes the “See No Evil” idea, which I kinda liked. Unless he’s just lying, which would honestly make more sense; he’d be trying to lead the trial astray again.

Okay but this is adorable.

“… at least one innocent person.” David, it’s- it’s at least two. How are this bad at math.

Nico: “Do you expect everyone to believe such an obvious lie?” This really is the Nico episode, huh? But it does make sense for them to push Ace as the culprit, I guess.

“He’s lying? Really?” Poor Levi’s got no fucking clue what’s going on.

“… he just conveniently avoided [the BDA group]” oh right they searched the whole floor before going to the playground David’s story is practically impossible.

Alright who’s gonna make the “What’s your source?” “I made it the fuck up!” meme with J/Nico and David?

“The only person who I need to believe me is Teruko.”

…

?????????????????????????????

(I feel like I write that exact sequence of characters every episode)

Are you just trying to go for a Teruvid angle to counteract the Terurose earlier? (/silly but really what the fuck-)

[David explains about Teruko’s skepticism] Yeah I guess. But, just so we’re clear: David still thinks the culprit is Ace and is just doing this to make them lose the trial right? Because otherwise what the actual fuck.

“AllI want is for Teruko to distrust others.” Motherfucker what-

[David’s whole Thing] You know, I really thought, I really fucking thought after Ep13, that we would get a break of a few episodes of David Bullshit, but no! What in the ever loving fuck is he even doing anymore???? No theories at this point, it is almost 11 PM where I am I do not have the brainpower to deal with this son of a bitch.

Levi: “Now that I think about it, Eden is in a good position to be Arei’s killer after all.” I feel a scrum debate forming.

“…why would I help it piece [the note] back together…?” I was right to avoid the bias. This line could be perfectly innocent, but the moment I read it, my mind said “she’s saying this too confidently, she had it planned, it’s Edenover.”

“Why… Levi, why?” While I do think Levi!Accomplice just 100% died of it wasn’t dead already, this line does read very funny with the context of that theory.

[Eden Breakdown] Man, {even after how much I’ve been sussing Eden in this and every other episode}, it sure does look like Ace is the culprit huh? Like, this scene is so beautiful and incredible it might just sway me to Ace!Culprit. The CGs are amazing, the music and the voice acting is terribly moving, the dialogue’s fantastic, holy fucking shit. I almost want to cry that was so fantastic. I— I wish I had more words, but that just left me speechless.

-

General Thoughts:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!

(/positive)

I don’t think I could have asked for more, this is just fucking perfect. Nico’s whole thing was great, the Rose angst was unexpected but wholly welcome, the tape reveal was revealed, David… Chiem, and the Eden CG stuff. Just absolutely fantastic all around.

…Slightly miffed the blood on the wires is still somehow not 100% consistent with the described method but WHATEVER it WORKS i do NOT wanna look at those fucking things again.

Theory Updates

Yeah it’s Ace.

Okay that’s dramatic lol. Eden!Culprit is not 100% dead, but off the top of my head, I can’t actually think of anything the characters can use to clear Ace rn. The only reason I believed Eden!Culprit over Ace!Culprit is that I didn’t think Teruko and even Eden could have missed Ace grabbing the tape upon waking up, especially with the sprite disappearing when Eden was on the ground, but… uh… apparently Teruko doesn’t trust herself so much.

With that glaring issue fixed, I actually think Ace!Culprit is significantly more solid than Eden!Culprit. No workaround needed for the BDA, no weird “are they even strong enough to do this” questions, and while the fish paradox Exists, Ace might have thought that putting fish there would make people think of Nico. Which, given the killer also somehow expected the class to figure out the similarities to Nico’s method when only a grand total of four people saw it, one of them being Nico themselves; yeah, I’d think he might be stupid enough for that.

EDIT: Also forgot to mention, Ace waking up before the murder attempt was over solves the issue of him figuring it all out. He actually straight up saw the method, he’d know how to replicate it.

And those Teruko-Eden CGs, man… I always had to really suspend my disbelief on some of Eden’s lines, even with venus’ narrative defense, but… come on. I’ve said this before; I have my limits.

All that added to the fact that Teruko seems to really want to start her “begin to trust again” arc, the fact David pushed for Eden!Culprit… it’s looking Ace!Culprit.

To be clear, there’s still things like Eden’s “Teruko, wait—!” that work better under Eden!Culprit, but I feel those are comparable to other potentially small foreshadowing moments such as Ace being weirdly fixated on the carousel. Eden!Culprit is, again, not fully dead, as other than strength, BDA and fish (all of which have workarounds), there’s not much concrete evidence clearing her. But at this point, I… don’t know. I’ve always felt kinda bad reading scenes like the kitchen talk with Teruko with as much suspicion as I did, but these final CGs, hmm…

Maybe my perspective will change with a clearer mind in the morning, but these are “first impressions” for a reason. They’re not meant to be very cohesive.

And if I’m wrong and it is Eden, well then I’ll have been wrong for a week or two instead of a year, so. Who cares at this point.

Speaking of getting things wrong, the Nico thing. I got Nico!SoloAceAttacker (is that the right notation?) right, and the really obvious stuff like using the stool to reach the fan. I’m also gonna give myself half points for guessing the broom was used to move the wire on the fan all the way back in my first post, but other than that, I did not cook. In my defense, a lot of the evidence (Nico’s missing cloak, the missing tape on the pull-up bar unless it’s somehow the roll, the isolated weights and toppled weight rack, and who knows what else) ended up not mattering in the slightest, which threw me off. Also, I call bullshit on this explaining the blood on the wires, that splatter pattern still doesn’t make sense with what was described. I guess my life isn’t Nico’s after all.

On the other hand, I’m a bit more confident on the remaining aspects of the Arei murder theory now that I believe the culprit is strong enough to pull it all off without issue, but we’ll have to see on that. My guess for culprit ended up changing for now, but the reasoning for arriving at them (tape) was solid, so we’ll see how that pans out.

All in all, immaculate episode. Chef’s kiss. Perfection. Holy shit. See you again soon!

[thought--bubble]

Hey, would you write something related to modern Aemond like: Aemond in high school is often excluded and harassed because he comes from a family considered strange and also because everyone has a view that he is strange. The reader is the only one who is kind to him and doesn't ignore him, and this is enough for Aemond to fall in love with the reader, despite never having had a real or very long conversation with her.

Additional: Aemond, despite maintaining a tough attitude, is extremely lacking in affection and is quite sensitive

This Is My First Ask So I Really Hope You Like It! The Characters are not in high school because i only write about adults but they will have originally met there. This got away from me a bit but I had a really good time writing it. I hope you enjoy!

My Salvation

Modern Aemond X (Long Term Crush Reader)

Warnings Under The Cut

Modern Aemond Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Allusions to Bullying, Car sex, Unprotected sex, Pining. IDK i suck at these any suggestions please LMK

"Everything is perfect" You think to yourself as you get yourself ready for your morning shift at the local coffee shop, and as far as you are concerned it really is.

You graduated from Highschool a few months ago and were ready to start your life as an adult. You had gotten yourself a job at the local coffee shop as well as signed up for the Autumn Semester at the Beauty Academy in Manchester.

Makeup for the stars was your dream and with the acceptance to the academy you felt like you were well on your way to achieving that goal.

Your day starts off like any other. You walk into the coffee shop apron in hand and greet your Co-worker Floris. She was a very popular girl back in your high school and dated the local bad boy Cregan Stark on and off for years.

"Good Morning Floris" You smile sweetly at her as you make your way behind the counter.

"Morning" She sighs letting you know the Floris you get to interaact with today is going to be the moody Floris. Internally you sarcastically thank Cregan for breaking up with her yet again and leaving you to deal with her sullen disposition, but you being the ball of sunshine that you are try and bring up the mood with cheerful banter.

"Has it been busy today?" You attempt to make conversation hoping she will bite at the bit so you don't have to suffer through one of those awkward days where she is silent and brooding through almost the entirety of your shared shift.

"No" she answers short and curt. you briefly rub your fingers against your forehead, if you don't figure out how to get her into at least a little bit better of a mood this is going to be a very long annoying shift.

The bell over the door jingles signaling that a customer has entered the shop.

"its back" Floris says annoyed.

"Stop that" You scold as you look toward the door.

There he is, your most common customer. Aemond Targaryen. He has his long blonde hair tied back and his eye patch on. You never understood why he wears that outdated thing. He must think it adds to his mystery persona.

Aemond is a bit of an oddball. Never fit in much in school. He is after all a Targaryen. The fact that he lost an eye in some sort of childhood accident, made him that much more different than everyone else. Which around here, is never a good thing.

"Hey there Aemond, the usual?" you ask him, your typical bubbly demeanor on full display.

"Yes please"" his answers are always so short and void of emotion. never mean or aggressive just short and cold.

You smile at him happily while you prepare his usual black coffee with tons of sugar. How he drinks his coffee like this you will never understand.

You spoke to Aemond sparingly back in school, which although is most than other students, still wasn't much. You wouldn't say you are friends but you do hold a bit of an affinity for him.

He had a tough time. No one could deny that. He was ignored, ostracized. Not that he would ever let anyone know if that fact actually bothered him, you always assumed that it did. At least to some degree.

You hand him the coffee with a big smile on your face. He takes it from you and nods. Making his way to his usual table and pulling out his laptop.

"Why does he stay?" Floris whispers "It's weird"

You shoot her a pointed look. "It is not weird for someone to sit down and work in a coffee shop, actually, it's quite common. Kindness isn't difficult. you should try it"

"You are aware their family tree doesn't have quite enough branches right?" Floris says while chuckling.

"A lot of royal families have that .... kind of history, they are descendants of royalty. Its been like what? 100 generations or something? Don't you think it's time for a new plot point?"

Floris sighs "He's just .... weird"

You roll your eyes and can't help but glance over at the mysterious man. Watching him type away on his laptop and staring at his side profile. If he wasn't the silent brooding type or a Targaryen the girls at school probably would have been all over him. He is obviously handsome with a jaw line that could cut diamonds. Its that icy chill around him and that albatross of a last name that had him shunned.

As your shift continues you occasionally glance over at him. His coffee long gone but still he stays typing away as other customers come and go.

"What do you think he's working on?" you wonder out loud

"Some version of the Targaryen anarchists cookbook i'm sure..... "

You sigh and roll your eyes again. Why could no one seem to look at the man himself instead of his family? Instead of the eye patch? It seemed so cruel.

"Do you mind if I head out 20 minutes early? Cregan wants to talk" she starts putting her jacket on before you even respond.

"Yeah that's fine, Sara and Jace should be here any minute anyway."

You watch as she quickly gathers her things running out of the shop. You tap your fingers on the counter. The shop is now empty save for Aemond typing away on his laptop.

"Hey Aemond?" You practically yell across the shop. He looks up at you furrowing his brows but doesn't say anything.

"You want a muffin or something?" you offer holding up a double chocolate muffin and wiggling it back an forth.

He simply shakes his head returning his focus back to the laptop in front of him. you sigh as you come to the conclusion that it is going to be a long and boring 20 minutes before second shift shows up.

Probably five minutes before Sara and Jace are due to arrive the downpour starts.

"oh well isn't that grand" you mumble to yourself.

You have been trying to save up for a car. Your parents couldn't afford to buy you one at the present time, and with the wages earned at the coffee shop it would most likely take the entire summer for you to save up enough so you walked to and from work. This typically wasn't a big deal since you lived close by but torrential rain always made the experience a lot less pleasant.

Jace comes running in soaked to the bone.

"Please tell me you just ran a mile and not just 5 seconds from the car park?" the grimace on your face outwardly showing how you are feeling

"Nah this is the 2 second walk from the car park it's serious out there right now!" he laughs while he shakes his hair off.

He comes around the back of the counter.

"He's here again huh? I could ask him to stop?" Jace whispers

"No, he's fine, he has a coffee works on whatever and then he goes."

"He always comes at the beginning of your shift and leaves at the end of it. You don't think that is a little weird?"

"Isn't he like your cousin or something? I would think that you would be nicer" you take off your apron and hold it in your hands.

"uncle, and we're not close" Jace heads to the backroom trying to dry himself off. "When sara gets here, I'm sure she won't mind running the store alone a few minutes so's I can drop you off"

"No, I'm ok. Just a little rain, Heard rainwater is good for your hair" You chuckle to yourself. "Bye Jace"

Jace waves as you head out the door of the shop and the second you get outside you can't believe how hard it is raining.

"Let me take you." Aemonds cool voice comes from behind you.

"Oh!" you jump and turn around his face, still as stone looking at you awaiting your answer.

"Thanks, that would be very kind" You decide to accept his offer. Firstly, it is downpouring and you really don't want to ruin your shoes and second, he can't escape you in a tiny car. He will have to finally speak.

The two of you run over to his Porsche. Of course he would have a Porsche.

"I'm getting your seat wet, i'm so sorry" you blurt out the moment the two of you are in the car.

"Don't worry about it" He turns the car on and turns on the heat.

"Thank you for this." You smile at him hoping he will look over at you.

Instead he just nods and puts the car in reverse backing out of the parking space.

You don't even tell him where you live but he pulls out front of your building anyway.

"Ummm.... how did you?"

"I dropped you off junior year after your friend ditched you."

"Right, I forgot about that" you scratch the back of your neck and purse your lips but don't make a move towards getting out of the car.

"Why do you come see me?" you look directly at him.

"What?" His voice sounds a bit defensive

"I'm not bothered by it. Really, I'm just curious"

"I like coffee." He answers as he turns his head toward you.

"No. it's something else. C'mon tell me" you flutter your lashes and give him a puppy dog look, no one can withstand your puppy dog look.

He chuckles and rolls his neck. "I remember"

This peaks your interest "Remember what?"

He sighs "I remember every single time you talked to me, looked at me, walked by me and waved. Hell, i remember when you held the door open for me. twice"

Your breath catches in your throat.

"I'm not crazy and i'm not a stalker i swear" he rubs his collar bone nervously. "it's just..... you were my salvation. The one person who didn't run from me or sneer at me or judge me and hate me" he grips the steering wheel tightly.

you reach over and gently rub his knuckles as they turn white. he takes a deep breath in at the skin to skin contact.

"So in other words.... you miss me?" You ask with a tiny smile and a blush on your cheeks.

"yeah, if you wanna make it simple i guess that would be the right term for it"

"How much?" Your voice drops from your sweet and kind persona, to a more sultry sound.

Aemond catches this right away. "Umm.... what?"

you get up on the seat, on your knees and lean over the center console. getting up close to his ear. "How much did you miss me? Like, was it driving you crazy?" You place your hand on his shoulder tracing your finger along his neck "Keeping you up at night?"

his breath comes out in unsteady huffs "You really shouldn't"

"Hmmm?"

"I will not be able to control myself if you keep that up" he grips the steering wheel tighter and suddenly the situation in this car had changed completely.

You were no longer teasing him to get a rise and reaction out of him. Him stating he wouldn't be able to control himself lit a fire in you. You felt this urge to push him there. A burning pooling in your belly you were not going to ignore. No, just this once you were going to indulge.

You lean over further bringing your mouth to his ear. "Maybe I want to see it"

He bites his bottom lip, then grabs your face pressing his lips against yours harshly. Lust and desperation apparent in his kiss. His hand slides up the back of your neck to the base of your head holding you close as he continues to devour you. Like a man starved.

Before your brain has even caught up to what is happening he grips your thigh harshly pulling you over the center console and into his lap. he quickly grabs your hips pushing you down into him as his tongue continues to explore your mouth.

"I've dreamt of this for ages" he whispers as he kisses and nibbles along your jawline making you purr contently. Being wanted this bad is the biggest turn on you have ever experienced.

You roll your hips against him chasing that pressure. When he feels this he growls and pushes your core against him as he ruts up against you.

"I have to have it." He begs with a breathy sigh "Gods please i have to"

You unbuckle your khakis and slide them off your legs giggling at the slight gymnastics you have to perform in order to get them off. Once they are off you drop back onto his lap and he runs his hands up your back pulling you tight up against him. His mouth finds yours again as his slips his hand between your thighs and slides a finger inside of you.

"I knew you would be perfect, I fuckin knew it" He groans as he adds a second finger pumping in and out of you slowly. he hooks his finger finding that spot inside of you that sends you to ecstasy. You close your eyes and roll your head back moving your hips rhythmically against his hand.

"oh god, oh god!" You squeal as he brings you over the edge, you clenching around his fingers. He immediately unfastens his jeans sliding them down to his thighs and pulling you over him.

"is this ok?" He asks gripping your hips tightly

You nod and he pushes your hips down sliding himself into you slowly. he makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a growl as you sink down onto him.

"This ain't gonna last long darlin" he grunts as he thrusts up into you. He bites down on your shoulder as he pulls you down over him over and over thrusting up into you at the same time. He rubs your pearl with his thumb as he quickens his pace.

Jaw slack and eyes like dinnerplates he watches as you come done a second time and groans

"Where? Where?" He whines "Fuck"

"I'm on birth control it's fine" You bite his bottom lip "Go ahead"

"Fuck! Ok Ok Fuck" He slams your hips down onto him three more times before his body tenses and squeezes your hips so tight you think your bones may snap.

you rest your forehead on his shoulder as the both of you regulate your breathing.

"Thank god it's fucking pouring" You giggle.

"Yeah, that was a bit mental wasn't it?" he laughs while breathing heavily and running his fingers through your hair.

You flop back over to the passengers seat and start pulling your trousers back on.

"See you at the coffee shop tomorrow?" you ask as you clasp the button.

"Always" he smiles back at you.

"Good, cuz i think I may need another ride..... " you giggle

"Really? you live so close" He teases back

"Who said I wanted to go home?" you wink at him as you hope out of the car. "See you tomorrow"

You shut the door and head inside with a huge grin on your face.

"Ok ... NOW everything is perfect"

To be added to taglist click here

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 11: pleasant surprise

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) TW!: violence

your POV:

I stir awake sitting up to look around, I was still in Alastors room and he wasn't there. I attempt to stand off the bed my whole body aching from yesterday, my thighs are basically screaming right now and the bite marks on my neck are a sight for sore eyes.

there was a note on the nightstand by the bed along with some flowers, classic red roses. they were simple but beautiful, I picked up the note to read it "I hope you rested well and that these flowers bring you a smile, I have gone to run some errands, I shall be back before noon, I'll see you in a few my dear~"

how funny that a man not well familiar with the feeling of love or romance is so good at it, I wonder how he got flowers down here in hell or the fact there are flowers in hell at all. I shouldn't question it, looking down I forgot that I wasn't wearing any clothes, I also forgot that the only piece of clothing I had was torn in half. great! option one is to book it to my room wearing nothing, steal Alastors clothes, or try to salvage what's left on the dress.

let's face it that dress is gone, and Angel will kill me for it. so I decided to snoop through Alastors wardrobe, finding a white button up on a hanger I snatched it off and slipped it on. it was too big but beggars can't be choosers, hurrying out of Alastors room I quickly ran to my hotel room, making it without being spotted I changed into my clothes, something simple and covered as I had decided to go out and buy Angel a new dress after Alastors made quick work of it.

I knew it wasn't a good idea to go out by myself, Alastor forbade it and I could understand why, after the Valentino incident he wanted to make sure that I never went anywhere without him for my safety. but with my stubborn self and the determination I had to replace that dress, I went out anyways.

Alastors POV:

walking the streets of hell I headed for cannibal town, I wanted to surprise y/n with a new dress and maybe a new suit for me to match, I had the perfect Idea for a date and it had been a while since she and I had gone out. I also needed to fill Rosie in on my and y/n's relationship status, her advice proved to be quite useful and I needed to properly thank her.

I open the coffin shaped doors to her emporium and walk in to see her helping a customer, I wait patiently before she turns her attention to me, pushing people aside to hug me. "Alastor! what a pleasure, here to finally replace your old suit" she teased giving me a toothy grin "You wound me so my dear, and here I thought you liked my suit" She brushed some dust off my shoulder "Well you could use a change, but what can I do for ya" "perhaps I was here for a new suit and maybe a dress for y/n, you know something nice to match" her face instantly lit up "oh please do tell me all the details~"

dragging me to a table I take a seat. "you will be pleased to know I have taken your advice and successfully courted her" "See I told you she would accept! She was a good one I just knew it" A good one indeed, it's nice to know y/n had Rosie's approval from day one, Rosie can be a bit judgmental in a friendly way... giving you suggestions that she feels you need even if you don't need them. it does my heart good to see her as excited on the topic of y/n as I am. "now about that suit, I think I have just the thing!".

your POV:

Angel told me about a store not too far from the hotel that he liked to get his clothes from so that was the first place I went to look for something of his style, walking into the store there were clothes of all types from lingerie to formal. heading to the section of the store where the dresses were, my eyes set on a black velvet fishtail dress, the hips had cutouts with gold chains to accentuate the hips and a deep open backing.

it was perfect, it was beautiful, and it screamed Angel. I quickly picked one in his size and rushed to the register to pay, dating an overlord had its advantages one of them being that Alastor had an almost endless supply of money that he so generously gave me access to. I didn't have much of a use for it up until now, paying and leaving the store, I carry a pink bag with the dress inside skipping like I just bought the most valuable thing in the world.

buying things for myself was never something I cared about, I lived simply and I was ok with that, but when it came to buying things for other people that was a whole other thing, it always feels nice to see that excitement in people when giving them things, sometimes I take it a bit too seriously but I always try to show my appreciation for people in ways that I can.

while walking back to the hotel I passed by an Ally, some people were hanging out there, there are always shady looking people looming through the shadows but something was different this time, usually when you pass by they just mind there own but instead, they were starring at me, I sped up my walking hoping I'm just paranoid but they begin to follow me, looking back one last time I decide to run.

clenching onto the bag I ran as fast as I could, I might be a bunny but I'm small and two steps for me is one step for them, so I wasn't surprised when they started gaining on me. I tried to turn a corner and lose them but came to a stop when I realized it was a dead end, I was cornered, three men, a hot pink shopping bag, and me.

I knew I was done for, I should have just listened to Alastor and not left the hotel without him, I stepped back pressed against the wall before I remembered something, I remembered what vaggie taught me.

-flashback-

"you want to learn how to fight?" "yes, I'm tired of being helpless and weak, I do not want to be a burden making people worry about me all the time" With a long thought she lets out a sigh "Fine, but we have to start small".

training with vaggie was...difficult, but with time training started to become easier. "clench your fist, but never with your thumb inside your hand, that's how you break a finger" Following her direction I ball up my fist "Ball it tight and put one foot in front of the other when you throw the punch, always aim for the face first then get the body". with one swift move, I step one foot forward and strike.

-end of flashback-

as one guy steps closer I take the shopping bag hitting one guy in the face while I step to throw a punch at the other, pushing forward I pass the two but not before the third man grabs me. I squirm trying to loosen his grip but it's no use I've been caught, that thought lasted a few seconds before everything went black.

Alastors POV:

I was quite pleased with what suit Rosie had saved for me, finding a dress that matched I waved her goodbye and walked back to the hotel. upon arrival, I headed straight for y/n's room hoping she was around so I could surprise her.

I knocked on the door "y/n darling I have a surprise for you!" no answer? I knock once more before opening the door and seeing her room empty, perhaps my room, walking upstairs I enter my room seeing the flowers still on the nightstand and the note opened but no bunny in sight. I didn't see her downstairs, in her room, or here.

with the snap of my finger, my shadow appears "Check every room in this hotel" With a nod it leaves, walking back downstairs I knock on Angel's door, if I'm correct he has the day off of work, and maybe there in his room.

the door opens and Angel walks out "Smiles? what do you want" "Is y/n in here with you?" "no, isn't she in her room or your room~" Not appreciating his comment I give him a glare "Sorry..." "Y/n is missing and if she's not with you then where is she" "I don't know but she's not here and I didn't see her leave, actually...I haven't seen her all morning" Losing my patience I leave Angel at the door walking to the lobby, my shadow reappears with no luck.

Charlie walks out of her office in concern "Al? what's the matter" "Y/n is missing and nobody knows where she is!" "Alastor maybe we should calm down a bit I could help you-" "NO!" Charlie flinches and I try to take a deep breath "I'm going out to look for her, and if something happens to her I will have someone's head"

your POV:

waking up my head was pounding and my ears were ringing, lifting my head I looked at my surroundings, there was a lot of blue with cameras surrounding every corner and a large bed. tugging at my hands I looked up to see I was tied to a pole.

the door opened, and a man with a TV for a head walked in along with "Valentino..." "Wow, you remember me~" "Why am I not surprised you're behind this, you piece of shit" "You should watch your words dollface" I turn my attention to the TV man "I'm Vox, you might not know me but I know you~"

he steps closer to me bending down to meet my eyes, grabbing my face with his clawed hands he inspects me "Tell me, how did the radio demon get such a pretty little thing like you?" "Why does it matter to you!" he chuckles and lets go of my face "Alastor is going to come looking for her and when he does...get rid of him, after we are done with him she's all yours Val~"

short chapter but I'm finishing this late at night and needed to get this chapter out before I get writer's block again. the poll for the new series was a success and all of you decided to bring it to life, so keep on the lookout for when that series will make its grand entrance. thank you all for the love and support, have a wonderful day/night!!!

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content and chapter please click this masterlist

[thearchercore]

entering the ice cream au chat because i am first and foremost a fan of red bull the drink

red bull ice cream is a thing, it is even a quite tasty thing if you're an energy drink fan. what if at some point charles and max make a bet that if max achieves x thing (so many wins in a row, new track record, whatever), then charles has to make a red bull ice cream for the shop? maybe a limited edition or something

anyways, max does the thing, and he doesn't actually expect charles to follow through because maybe that's Too Far or Too Much and he doesn't want to push him when they're actually in a really good place right now, but charles is charles so he makes the damn ice cream (even though his face is like this the whole time 😠) and puts it out for one [1] day

of course, max's phone blows up about it and like the ridiculous, embarrassing human he is, he immediately hops in his car and drives all the way to milan, arriving shortly before closing time

when he blunders through the door, charles just raises an eyebrow at him, and max attempts to compose himself because there are still a few customers and everyone is not even trying to pretend they aren't staring

he walks up to the counter, clears his throat, and is like 'one scoop of red bull?' and charles just blinks all beguiling and is like 'sorry we're all out, it was very popular being limited edition and everything, you know?' and max is 'oh, right, yeah' :// but then charles grins and is like 'i do have vanilla though' and max just 😲 before quickly nodding like yes yes please give me the vanilla i want the vanilla i need the vanilla and charles just giggles

bonus: max gets to stick around while charles closes up the shop and they're talking about random stuff and max asks how the red bull ice cream actually was and charles dimples beautifully and tucks nonexistent hair behind his ear and is like 'well if you wanted to try it, I do have some in my freezer at home from the test batch i made' and max stares at him for five seconds, brain fully broken, before he's like 'yes, please, yeah, absolutely' and charles just smiles winningly before taking his hand and leading him home

10/10, no notes.

also absolutely obsessed with the thought of max casually deciding to drive (*checks notes* 3hrs 43min) just to see charles irl to ask him about that damn red bull ice cream

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[chaxiu]

what fish feel

pairing: osamu x fem! reader

summary: what we hold in the time we have – a return to japan and the unfamiliar roads of your heart. title stolen from a bashō haiku that loosely translated goes something like

what fish feel

birds feel, I don’t know—

the year ending.

notes: my official petition to let osamu have an absolute disaster of a partner. post-timeskip spoilers for occupations (specifically of the inarizaki crew). reader is japanese-diaspora (heavily implied to be japanese-american.) my japanese is poor so please correct me if there’s something not right! loosely inspired by the documentary jiro dreams of sushi (which you can watch for free on youtube, i think!). 

for all my diaspora lovelies and for everyone who, as a child, used to think i want to go home, no matter where they were. here’s hoping the road there is warm and well-lit. 

cw: casual mentions of racism, sexism, xenophobia in relation to japanese culture. second-gen immigrant guilt (and by default an obsession with food as a love language.) very in-your-face flouting of health and safety codes for restaurants.

___

Summer, and the sky is nothing but blue. 

Your airplane touches down on the runway in a fit of grinding gears and last-minute jolts, but it pales in comparison to the way your legs are cramped and sore, a product of so many hours sat in the same place – the perils of a window seat – alternately staring out the window and dozing against the shade.

Your neighbor, next to you, smiles at you. You’ve spent some time talking to her – listening to her talk, really, the nice old obaa-chan in the middle seat who is just coming back from visiting her son and his wife and their newly-born daughter abroad, who spent at least an hour of the trip painstakingly swiping through photos while you smiled and nodded along.

“日本へよこそ,” she says. Welcome to Japan. You wonder if it should feel more momentous, this first welcome to the country in which your roots are deepest. The first few minutes of a month-long stay, your longest time in this country by far.

Instead, what is: you really do have to pee.

Finding a bathroom in the airport is simple enough, as is making your way through the customs line, although there’s a brief moment of confusion when the customs agent sees your face, your features, and attempts to wave you towards the line for returning nationals. You put your hands up, bow apologetically. “日系人,” you say, and her face clears of confusion. 

She points you to the right line. 

At the very least, you think, standing with your passport dangling between two fingers, at the very least you speak the language – slowly, in fits and starts, with gaps where your vocabulary should be and absolutely no understanding of any slang – but at the very least you can do things like tell the customs officer what you are. Foreign-born, Japanese descent: close enough by generation that this land should maybe be familiar to you, should maybe be something approaching yours. Far enough that it’s not, not really.

Once you’re through customs and baggage claim – luggage collected, both you and your suitcases a little worse for wear – there’s nothing to do but make your way to the exit, where your cousin is waiting. She looks like you, maybe, if you squint and tilt your head a little. You try your best not to think about it, about how maybe this is what you’d look like if you stayed. She regards you for a moment.

“Hey,” she says in Japanese.

“Hey,” you say back. It is not the first time you’ve felt uncomfortably aware of your accent – how much it must stick out. How everyone who comes into contact with you must know right away how much you're not from here. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

She raises an eyebrow, grabbing one of your suitcases, ignoring your half-hearted attempt at protest. “Come on. Mom’s making dinner.”

Dinner, at least, is something you know. You grip the handle of your remaining suitcase. Follow her out into the sunshine.

Your aunt lives in the suburbs of Tokyo, and you make it there just as the sun begins to set. Stepping out of the car, you shield your face against the glow. “It’s pretty,” you say, half to yourself, half because the car ride had been awkwardly quiet enough that you’d begun to say any inane comment that sprung to your mind out loud, in hopes of starting any kind of conversation.

Your cousin spares it a glance, then pauses. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess so.”

Inside, your aunt fusses over you in a way that makes you feel equal parts uncomfortable and longing – this is what I could’ve had, over and over in your head like a drumbeat. Dinner is already on the table, uni – sea urchin – as the crowning glory.

“You liked this when you were little,” your aunt says, “the last time you came to visit us. Do you remember?”

You don’t. You say you do anyway.

The truth is you think probably you would say you liked anything – even as you take your first bites and realize sometime between childhood and now, you’d unlearned how to like the texture. It’s okay, you think. It’s enough to be here, in the light around the table.

You eat without waiting for your uncle, who gets home halfway through the meal. He toes his shoes off in the genkan, and you stand when he steps inside. From what you remember of him, he is a quiet man. His wife does enough talking for the both of them. Still, when he smiles the corners of his eyes crinkle, and it strikes a chord of remembrance. 

“Tadaima,” he says.

You mouth it along with your aunt and cousin. “Okaeri.”

That night, with the grime of the airport washed off of you, wearing your softest T-shirt and pants probably a size too large, you sit on the futon that’s been unrolled for you – in your cousin’s room, right by the window – and stare at the moon. It looks the same. You feel the same. Your cousin, in bed already, is only illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. “Good night,” you say, tentative.

“Good night,” she says, rolling over in bed to face away from you.

The next morning your uncle is gone before you wake up – off to work. Your cousin has class at university, and so you follow your aunt around. It settles in a pattern of the next few days, and you have to actively fight against feeling like a lost duckling. She takes you to the Tokyo Skytree, and you make all the appropriate sounds and take the right photos to send home, of Tokyo’s beautiful skyline. She takes you to Shibuya, and you marvel at the densely packed crowds of people together. She takes you to Tsukiji, the smell of the brine and the ocean lingering on your clothes for hours. She takes you grocery shopping and in the evenings you cook next to her, losing yourself in the familiar repetition of the knife. It could probably be enough, if you let it.

On the sixth day of your visit your aunt’s friend has to go to the hospital – nothing serious, your aunt assures you, but better that they go now – and for the first time since your arrival you are left to your own devices, with nothing but time and the sky above you.

You attempt to go back to the places your aunt’s taken you, to get some shopping done – gifts, maybe, for the people you’ve left at home – but there’s something in you so uncomfortably aware that all the places she’s taken you are tourist destinations, first and foremost. That no one from Tokyo really ever goes. 

You pivot away from Shibuya and start walking.

Down the streets, turning when you feel like it, almost definitely walking in a circle more than once – there is something about the act of it, about walking these streets. About pretending, for just a moment – pretending what, you’re not sure. You walk until it’s far past lunchtime and your stomach is reminding you incessantly, until you’re scanning the signs you walk by – an udon restaurant here, an izakaya closed until the evening there – for something you might want to eat.

One of the signs, simple white characters on black font, catches your eye, and you slow to a stop. Sound out the characters in your mouth, clumsy and fumbling. Onigiri Miya, it reads, and you rock back and forth on the heels of your feet as you ponder. This time of day – too late for lunch, and too early for dinner – it’s likely to be just you in there. This could be good: you could be able to eat quickly and quietly, in and out. Or it could be awful: everyone who works there could whisper about you behind their hands, talking about the odd foreigner with the too-loud voice and too-crooked accent, always a beat behind the conversation. As the seconds tick on your thoughts turn towards dread, and you make to turn away instead.

“Hey,” says a voice. You startle.

The man standing behind you is dressed in what must be the uniform of the shop, black pants and black shirt with the Onigiri Miya logo embroidered on the breast. He smiles at you, crooked and reassuring. Says something in the most heavily accented Japanese you’ve ever heard – not that it’s much of a competition – and you blink at him. He must not be from Tokyo, then – must be from a rural prefecture – although where, you certainly couldn’t hazard a guess. 

The realization – how much of a stranger you are, even in this country that should know and be known by you – fills you with hot, irrational shame.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak, bowing to him, shoulders so high they’re almost touching your ears. You turn and flee without a backwards glance.

____

The next day, a little calmer, a little clearer-headed, you think through it again and realize that fleeing was almost certainly the absolute weirdest thing you could’ve done. 

He must think I’m such a freak, you mourn, chopping the green onions with a little more force than necessary. Such a weirdo. What kind of person stands in front of a store for minutes on end, and then when an employee comes to help you, runs away? What kind of person –

“Hey,” your cousin says, dropping her bag by the door. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve just lost all your life savings and your house burned down in a fire. What’s wrong?”

It all spills out, then – the streets, the store, the man, his polite confusion. How you had essentially run away. She blinks at you, nonplussed.

“Oh… kay,” she says, finally. “Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that was a super weird thing to do –”

You moan, setting down your knife to bury your face in your arms. It’s nice here – dark. Safe. Quiet. Maybe you should never leave.

“But,” she says firmly, “the way I see it, you have two options. Number one, live on forever in shame, knowing for the rest of your life that man will be thinking about the weirdo who showed up at his store and then ran away for the rest of his life. You will forever be Weird Runaway Girl to him. Like some fucked-up version of Cinderella.”

You bury your face deeper.

“Number two, you go apologize. And it’s weird and maybe super awkward but then it’s over and you have closure and you never have to see him again.”

You inhale. Exhale. “Can’t I just get deported,” you say into the crook of your elbow. The words come out muffled but she must hear you anyway, patting your back semi-awkwardly. 

“We’ll call that Plan C,” she says, before rolling her sleeves up. “Here. What else needs chopping?”

The next day you make your excuses to your aunt – not telling her about the Great Onigiri Miya Debacle, because having one other person know about it is already embarrassing enough – and set off on your own again, attempting to retrace your steps. Somehow you make enough wrong turns and backtracks that when you make it back it’s almost the same time of day it was yesterday. You pause when you catch sight of the storefront banner fluttering the breeze, hands fisted in the hem of your shirt.

“Just go in,” you mutter to yourself. “Apologize. Then you’ll be done with this and no one has to know ever again.”

“It’s you again,” a familiar voice says, half-confused and half-amused, and for a second the idea of getting deported becomes more appealing than anything else in the world.

“It’s me again,” you agree bleakly. “I’m sorry – would you mind – speaking a little slower? My Japanese – it’s not –”

“‘Course not,” he says, voice a little more enunciated, the deep bass of it picking carefully through the syllables, and you finally gain the willpower to peek up at him. He’s rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a little abashed. What he could possibly have to be embarrassed about when the sum total of your interactions with him have been 1) you running away from him and 2) you telling him he talks too fast, you’re not sure, but it fills you with an odd amount of confidence. 

“Sorry,” you say again. “I just – I wanted to –”

He pauses, regards you regarding him. His cap is slightly askew. You want to reach out and adjust it. You want to see if his hair is as soft as it looks. (You want to file a restraining order against yourself, on his behalf. Before it’s too late.)

“Why don’tcha come in?” he says finally. “We’re closed right now, but I’ll make ya something.”

Closed –! 

All of this and they’d been closed this time of day anyways. What an absolutely humiliation of a punchline.

Face burning, you follow him in. 

“Have ya had onigiri before?” he asks, flicking the lights on, the air conditioning humming to life. You watch him tie an apron around his waist. Normally a question like that would make you flush with embarrassment – of course you’ve had onigiri before, you’re not that much of an alien – but something about the way he says it, the drawl of it. Something about the sleepy-slow light of the store, pale wood and tables gold-lit by the sunlight.

“Yes,” you say. “But really only mostly from konbinis.”

“The best kind,” he says. “We used t’ get those after school all the time. Walk home together eating ‘em.”

Your childhood had involved nothing of the sort, but you can imagine it – the long walk home. A boy jumping up, hand outstretched, to slap the leaves of a tree’s low-hanging branch. You hum. He washes his hands, salts them. You watch as a clump of rice begins to take shape between them. 

“Yours aren’t the best?”

He grins at you. “No, they are,” he says readily. Watching him in the summer light, you’re inclined to believe him. “Just a different kind of best, ‘s all.”

“You didn’t grow up in Tokyo,” you say. More an observation than a question, but he hums assent anyways.

“‘M from Hyogo. That’s why my Japanese sounds all funny – it’s the Kansai-ben.” He does not ask where you’re from. You’re grateful even as you hate yourself a little for it. It’s not that you’re ashamed, really. More like you’ve spent your life as one kind of other and it is less pleasant than you imagined it would be, to suddenly find yourself as the exact opposite but still on the outskirts.

“Sorry,” you say, abrupt. “For… for…”

“The running?” he asks. He doesn’t look up at you, focusing on the rice between his hands. “‘S okay. Ya had places to be.”

At the time the only place you’d had to be was away from here, but you recognize the out for what it is and take it gratefully. “Still. I imagine it was pretty startling.”

He shrugs. “I have a twin brother who does weird shit all the time. I’ve gotten kinda used to it.”

You have to laugh a little at that, and his eyes flick up to yours, looking – maybe you’re imagining it – pleased at the sound. “‘M Miya Osamu,” he says. 

“You own this place!” you say, delighted but mostly unsurprised – something about the way he holds himself in this space gives it away – before hurrying to introduce yourself. He repeats your name to himself, as if testing how the syllables feel in his mouth.

“‘S a good name,” he says. Places the onigiri in front of you. “‘A plain one, to start. Want ya to be able to taste our rice. Next time you come I’ll make you something different.”

There’s a flush of delight in your chest at the next time. Obediently you pick it up, feeling the heft of it in your hands. 

The rice is soft and good and a little bit like childhood, the ache of it. The lingering sweetness. You tell Osamu as much, and he grins at you, satisfied. “‘S my old senpai who grows the rice,” he says. “If anyone knows good rice, ‘s him.”

“He does,” you say fervently. The rice is sticky and filling and you’re definitely getting grains on your face but it’s hard to care – it’s simple food, but it’s good, and it’s oddly comforting for food from a restaurant you’ve never been to before in your entire life. 

Osamu wipes down the counter, watching you eat out of the corner of his eye. He seems oddly pleased by how much you’re enjoying the food. When you tell him as much, he grins, a little sheepish. 

“I want the people who come here t’ eat well,” he says. “Good food is better food when it’s shared.”

You smile at him, a little tentative. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

“Thanks for sharing it with me,” he says back, then shoos you out without letting you pay. “Next time,” he says, and you let him tuck your credit card back in your wallet and your wallet back in your pocket.

Your cousin eyes you over the dinner table, but doesn’t say anything about the secret smile at the curve of your lips. In her bedroom that night all she says is “Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. It is summer, and you have nothing but time. 

When you visit again the next day the store is already open. You can see him through the windows, and it’s enough to make your lips tug up again in an involuntary smile as you step through the doorframe.

“Hi,” you say, a little shy, suddenly. A little envious of how grounded he seems, here in this space. 

“Hi,” he says back, jerking his chin at the counter. “Wanna sit?”

It’s umeboshi filling that day, plum tart on your teeth. Tuna mayo the next. Unagi the day after, and he slowly takes you through the menu, watching your face keenly as you eat each one. 

The month passes slowly, honey-dripped and sweet. You tell your aunt that you’ve made a friend, maybe, and watch as her face splits in a smile that makes her look years younger. When you were little your mother used to tell you she could see the resemblance between the two of you. Now, more than anything, you want it to be true. 

“Not a fan, huh,” Osamu says on the day he gives you uni-topped onigiri – unigiri, he’d joked as he’d handed it to you. One of our experimental ones, ya know? – and you blink at him. You’d gotten good at hiding your discomfort with the texture.

Osamu clicks his tongue at you, the sound both disapproving and fond. “Don’t make yerself eat it,” he chides, sliding it away from you. “I’ll make ya another one.”

“Oh – no, you don’t have to, it’s okay, I couldn’t –”

He reaches over and carefully flicks you on the forehead. “I know I don’t hafta,” he says easily. “But I wanna. I want ya to eat well.”

Abashed, you watch as he makes you another one. The careful press of his fingers. The arch of his wrist.

“My parents are from here,” you say suddenly into the silence. He glances up at you, but doesn’t say anything. 

“From Japan, I mean. They left the country before they had me.”

“Where’d they go?”

You tell him, and he whistles, low. “‘S a long ways away.”

“It is,” you say. “Makes traveling hard. I haven’t – haven’t been back here since I was little.”

“Ya got family here?”

“An aunt – my mom’s sister. Her husband. Their daughter. A few other relatives, though I think those are scattered around Japan. I don’t know them too well.”

He hums, considering. “Didja like it? Where you grew up?”

You think about it. About a sepia-toned childhood, about wide streets and dry summer grass, pricking your skin.

“I was very well-loved,” you tell him. “But I was still – I think I was still lonely.”

Osamu nods. “Ya know my twin, Atsumu? When we were in high school we played volleyball t’gether. ‘Tsumu sorta – I think he took it for granted that we were gonna play together forever. That we’d always want the same things. Took a long time for me to be brave enough to tell him I wanted to do this – ” he gestures to the shop around him. “ – for a living. Took me even longer to stop bein’ so mad at him that I had to tell him in the first place. That he didn’t know me as well as I wanted him to.”

He finishes making another onigiri. Pushes it over to you. Then rounds the counter and sits next to you, picking up the first one he’d made you, the one delicate bite taken out of it.

“And now?” you ask. 

Osamu, partway through a bite of your abandoned onigiri, freezes mid-chew. He swallows. “And now?” he echoes.

“And now? Do you think he knows you?”

He snorts. “That idiot would need to get his head out of his own ass, first.” He pauses, considers you. “But. I think these days ‘m less worried ‘bout being known perfectly.”

You blink over at him. He’s turning the half-eaten remnants of the onigiri over and over between his hands. On instinct, you reach over and place a hand on his. The skin of it, the bone of it. The pull of tendon and the flex of muscle and the fluttering pulse. 

He doesn’t look at you. Under your fingertips a muscle jumps, then quickly relaxes.

“These days,” he says, “‘M much happier t’be loved. In spite of all the parts of me he doesn’t understand.”

You think about this, even as he pops the last of his onigiri in his mouth. “Come out with me, tonight,” he says.

“To where?”

He shrugs. “M’friends are in town. Want you to meet ‘em. Even ‘Tsumu will be there, though can’t guarantee he’ll behave.”

“This is the brother that does weird shit?”

Osamu rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Yeah, ‘n I’ve only got the one brother, thank God. Would be willin’ to bet our ma saw how he acted ‘n decided it was enough for her.”

You tactfully avoid mentioning that Osamu himself would probably have been a factor in that decision, if that were the case. Instead you busy yourself with the onigiri in your hands, fiddling with it, breaking off one of the corners before catching yourself. Osamu always laughs at you when you do that. Quit playing with yer food, he’d said once, flicking you gently on the forehead. The mark hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes. The feeling stayed for days.

“Come out with us,” he says, again. His eyes, when you peek at them, are gray and the steady of a long winter.

“Okay,” you say, without much thinking. It’s almost worth it to see the crows’ feet at the corner of his eyes when he smiles. 

You stuff another bite of rice in your mouth to avoid the thought.

____

Us turns out to be Osamu himself, of course, broad-shouldered and dependable and somehow uniquely capable of being a pain in the ass; Suna Rintarou, a sleepy-eyed man with the worst posture you’ve ever seen and a unique talent for instigating; and Miya Atsumu, the infamous Miya Atsumu, with brassy-blond hair that must come from a bottle and a voice pitched at exactly the right frequency to be as annoying as possible. 

“What a funny accent!” is the first thing Atsumu says upon meeting you, grinning in a way that, if he weren’t Osamu’s brother, you would call a leer. “This is the cute little foreigner ya’ve been tellin’ us about, then, huh, ‘Samu?”

Calmly, without surrendering his grip on the tongs he’s been using to grill, Osamu smacks his brother upside the head with his free hand, hard enough to make him pout. “Just ignore –” he begins to say to you, apologetic. 

“You should stop dying your hair yourself,” you say to Atsumu, frowning at him over the table. The smell of the yakiniku is a sore temptation – never mind that it hasn’t finished cooking, according to Osamu – and you can readily admit to yourself that the hunger is making you more irritable than you’d be otherwise. “You’re frying it, and besides, the color is awful. You can’t tell me you were going for that shade on purpose, were you?”

At the sound of his twin’s spluttering noises Osamu starts to laugh – a borderline cackle, mean-spirited and still somehow so lovely. He laughs like how Atsumu does, you realize. There’s something very lovely about it.

To distract yourself from that thought you grab a too-hot piece of meat with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. It burns your tongue but rather than spit it out, you shovel in a load of rice, to counteract it, and pray you don’t choke.

Suna watches you with the kind of fascination that you’d thought previously reserved for seeing a particularly exotic zoo animal for the first time. 

“I can see why he likes you,” he remarks, absentmindedly.

What do you mean, you try and say. There’s too much rice in your mouth. You choke.

Osamu somehow manages to simultaneously pat you on the back, put more meat on your plate, and punch Suna’s shoulder at the same time. You resolve to study his abnormal skill at multitasking at a later date. “Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you gasp, trying your best to take a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

Conversation flows smoothly. It’s all-too-easy to tell that they’ve known each other for years, falling into a rapport that’s clearly practiced. It’s even easier to let yourself get swept along in the banter, to pretend that you, too, have known them for years, that the lives they’ve painstakingly carved out for themselves here have always had space for you, too.

It’s an achingly sweet thought. You refuse to let yourself dwell on it for long. 

Osamu insists on walking you home. “‘S almost two in the morning,” he says, “‘sides, I’ve had about enough of him –” he jerks a thumb at his brother, now slumped against Suna’s side, whining about something or other about their volleyball careers (a botched serve, maybe?) while the latter pokes and prods at him. 

You consider this. “Yeah,” you say. “Fair enough.”

Outside the air is warm and Osamu’s presence by your side is warmer. “Thanks for inviting me,” you say to him. The words feel inadequate, for all that he’d let you pretend tonight, even though he couldn’t have been aware of it.

“Thanks for comin’,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “They liked ya.”

“You think?”

“I know,” he says, firm. “They wouldn’t spend so much time teasin’ someone they didn’t like.”

The thought suffuses you with an oddly warm glow. You duck your chin into your chest, hoping he doesn’t notice. If he does he doesn’t mention it.  

“Are ya comin’ by the store tomorrow?” he asks, and you hum, affirmative.

“It might be the last time, before I go.” Saying it out loud is somehow both better and worse.

“Ah,” Osamu says. You walk in silence for a few beats, footsteps falling in time. 

“Come by tomorrow,” he repeats – a statement this time, not a question. You nod anyways, and he walks you right up to your front door, lingering there as if waiting for something. 

“Goodnight, ‘Samu,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See ya tomorrow,” he affirms, but makes no move to leave. You frown at him. He pulls a face right back, half-mocking, half in deliberation.

In one fell move he takes the cap off of your head and puts it on yours. It fits strangely – your heads must be too dissimilar of a shape. You would go to sleep wearing it if you could. 

“Goodnight,” you say again, dumbly. 

Osamu’s smile in the moonlight is sharp and a little something else, something you can't read. “G’night,” he says. When he turns to leave the streetlights make the black of his hair look almost blue.

Your cousin, when you slip back up to her room, is still awake. The glow of her smartphone lets you see the jaw-creaking yawn she lets out when she sees you.

“Tadaima,” you say, quiet.

“Okaeri,” she mumbles.

“Sleep well,” you add, but she’s already set her phone on the nightstand, breaths slipping into something quiet and even, as if the only permission she’d been waiting for was the sound of your footsteps at the doorway. You are so full of love you think you could choke on it.

The next day when you show up to Onigiri Miya there’s no onigiri waiting for you. You deliberate feeling betrayed for a second before Osamu steps out of the back, throws a wad of fabric at you. You just barely manage to catch it, uncrumpling it to reveal an apron.

“An apron,” you say.

He grins. “Nice hat.”

You flush almost immediately, resisting the urge to tuck your chin into your chest – it would really only make the hat more visible. “Thanks,” you mutter. “Apron?”

He swings open the gate dividing the front of the restaurant and the kitchen. “You wanna learn?”

The prospect of this world opening up to you leaves you feeling more trepidation than anything. You slip the apron over your head, tie the strings around your waist. “Do I look professional?”

“That’s a Michelin-star chef right there,” Osamu says.

And he’s right, in a way – if ‘Michelin-star chef’ meant ‘uniquely creative in one’s ability to mess up’. The rice doesn’t clump. It sticks to your hands. You grab it when it’s too hot and burn yourself, even through the gloves. You salt your hands too liberally. You don’t salt your hands enough. The clumps of filling are too large. You shape it too firmly and it all falls apart, crumbling in your hands. The remains of your failures are scattered all over the kitchen – “Don’t worry,” Osamu had told you, “I’ll feed ‘em to ‘Tsumu.” – by the time you have one half-presentable one. Half-presentable as in not falling apart. Mostly not falling apart. You cup it in your hands with all the reverence one would hold a baby bird that’d fallen out of its tree.

Osamu plucks it out of your hands. Inspects the way it sags between his fingers. “Huh,” he says.

“Huh?” you parrot, hopeful. He ignores you, taking a bite. Chews. Swallows. The expression on his face is inscrutable. 

“Tastes surprisingly good,” he says.

“Thank you! I – what do you mean, surprisingly?”

Osamu grins. “We’ll make a chef outta you yet.”

The afternoon is spent at his side. “Packin’ an order,” he says. “Wanna help?” You make one onigiri to every five of his, determined to neaten up your technique, but it’s fun anyways. 

“Why onigiri?” you ask him, frowning down at the mass in your hands. “Why not – I don’t know, ramen or yakisoba or something?”

He hums. His hands are steady and large and careful. “I mean, for starters, I like eatin’ ‘em.”

You wait for him to continue. Eventually: “They’re a simple food. Nothin’ fancy. No crazy ingredients. No one’s gonna get a Michelin star for doin’ the stuff I do.”

“Except me,” you say, and Osamu lets out a bark of laughter.

“Except you,” he agrees. “But they’re a comfort food, y’know? I told you we used to get ‘em from the konbini on our way home from practice. Or – for lunch, sometimes, I used t’ make bentos for me n’ ‘Tsumu. The first thing I learned t’make was onigiri. My ma taught me.”

“You love them a lot.”

He scrunches up his nose, displeased. “Not like I’d ever tell ‘Tsumu,” he says. “But – well. ‘f course I was gonna make him food. ‘f course I was gonna learn from my ma. ‘S just what we do.”

The depth of it – the quiet love, the steadiness – leaves you a little breathless. Osamu keeps his eyes fixed firmly on his hands, although you’re certain he doesn’t need to.

“I was – such a lonely child,” you say. He knows this already. You’d told him this already.

He finishes shaping the rice in his hands, deliberate. Strips his gloves off. “Wanna go sit on the steps outside?” 

Outside the sun is setting, and the sky is streaked with color. You sit shoulder to shoulder and watch the people pass by. 

“I can’t imagine,” he says, “growing up so far away.” Far away from what, he doesn’t elaborate. You know what he means anyways.

You think about your hometown, think about the summers and the smell of chlorine, the winters and the whole world muffled and still. Think about the wide-open sky. How close and how far away it all felt, all at once. 

“There were good parts,” you say.

“There must’ve been,” Osamu says. “Look at how you turned out.”

“It was very – very far,” you say, “from the people that were supposed to love me no matter what I did.”

He hums. The crickets are beginning to sound. You dread to think about the mosquito bites you’ll find on your skin tomorrow.

“I – it’s not that I’m not grateful,” you say, because you are. “Not that I’m not grateful for the things I have. The life I’ve built.”

“I know,” he says.

“I know I’m lucky to be where I am. To have grown up where I did, in the way I did. My parents wanted the best for me. They gave up a lot for it.”

“Probably,” he agrees. 

“And maybe – maybe I’m romanticizing it. Painting living here as something a lot grander than it is. But – ”

In another life you are sitting in your cousin’s bedroom and listening to her wax poetic about some topic neither of you will remember in the morning. It’s late but in this life you’re young and the moon is full and reassuring. In another life the most intimate way you know your family’s faces is not reduced down to three pixels. In another life each street of this city holds a different memory. In another life you know this place like breathing.

“I could’ve lived here,” you say. “I could’ve had this.”

Osamu regards you, considering. In a way it’s almost a relief, that he’s neither quick to assure or to laugh in outright disbelief.

“You could’ve,” he says at last. “I think you still can.”

“It’ll never be like it could’ve been,” you warn.

“No,” Osamu says, affable. “But I think we could still make it good.”

He offers you his hand. You take it.

“Hungry?” Osamu asks. You consider this, the feel of his hand in yours. You picture: standing outside of his store and watching him, gentle and careful and good, with his callused hands and his patient smile. Here are hands that were made to hold. 

In this dream you step inside, and he looks up at the sound of the door.

Welcome, he says to you. You know what he means by it.

In a few days there will be a plane seat with your name on it – an ocean and everything that lies between. Still, it’s summer – here and now and the rest of your lives – and you have nothing but time. Summer, and there is a space for you at the table. 

You grin at Osamu, squeeze his hand. He squeezes back: once, twice, three times.

“I could eat.”

[tinysweetflour]

Kdrama that should have been bls

FIRST UP- MATCH MADE IN HELL

Hell is other people - calls him darling, protects him from *evil* people, keeps him company, makes him a custom bracelet. Need I say more. his girlfriend and him had 0 chemistry. because all the chemistry was between him and the *weird dentist who seems to be too much in me*. and *weird dentist* was not afraid to show his love outwards. if only we could them being reciprocated. but he loved him. so much so that he turns into him. would have been a perfect murder couple.

Psychopath diary- another attempt at trying to turn his boyfriend into him. even does all of the preparations . but his boyfriend is too dumb. always love the part where he shows off his special interest in his boyfriend. CEO!?!?!! with a measly employee. and the way he gets jealous when his boyfriend has other plans. would have been the psychopath and his cute boyfriend. but only some people know what kind of a person he can be *wink wink*.

The merciless- unlike the previous ones. this one did not need to MAKE his boy. he already came with the preparations. he just needed to tame him. but went too far with a brat and paid the price. (seems like im siwan has a thing for gay-coded roles. and unlike the others the direction of this film did say that the characters were written as having a romantic relationship but changed it in the end to avoid criticism. F*ck homophobes.)

Beyond evil- (haven't seen but know its gay) seems like all my favorite boys are gay-coded. not that i'm complaining. If Hollywood was brave enough and artsy enough during those buddy cop movies we would get something like this.

The devil judge- (haven't seen but know its gay) f*ck world. I just wanna be a malewife to the dictator in a dystopian world.