#too many artists- too many cities- not enough money ;_;

[prettyokwizard]

Excuse me as I'm still thinking about tattoos.. (I got that 1 track mind for days at a time) but I love how there's a small and niche community of artists and tattoo enjoyers in this area that all know about eachother. The amount of times I've been asked 'is that done by ___?' While at an event or getting tattooed has been a lot. Or yesterday when other people showed up 3 of us had tattoos by the same artist and I could easily recognize the style of some of the tattoos on them as well. It sometimes feels like being in a fun little club where we're all are big fans of the same artists and get excited when we recognize the art.

(Now I just wish when people asked me for tattoo recs they'd listen to me... but alas 80% of people just want neo-trad or fine-line. No hate at all but listen there's SO much good variety out there 🥹)

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Quick Notes:

You, the reader who is an artist, and had become Alastor's sweetheart, but unfortunately died too early.

Now, you're in hell.

Part 8:

Your arrival in hell was a quiet one, hardly a soul around to even notice you in what looked like a barren desert. But red. So much red everywhere. The sky, the ground, all of it- red.

You looked down at your hands, you looked different. You looked... not quite human.

"So this is hell, isn't it?" You said yourself out loud. "I thought it would be more... populated.. and.. different."

But what really caught your eye was a ring on the ring finger of your left hand. You don't recall ever wearing a ring there before you died.

But then it dawned on you... Alastor. This ring was from him. It had to be. Tears welled up in your eyes as you sniffled. It just had to be and you thanked whatever higher powers that existed for allowing this one thing to be brought with you to Hell after you died.

After walking for miles, hardly seeing any sign of civilization- or whatever it's called down here, you happen upon a small town situated in an oasis.

Well, a hell.. version of an oasis. It wasn't water in the center of this town, lava maybe? Blood? Either way, you figured this would be where you'd have to get your start and find your bearings as a new denizen of Hell.

After talking to some (begrudging) locals, you found out you were in what's called the "Ring of (insert whatever ring of hell you want to be in, except pride)"

With the basic information given to you (and then being told to figure the rest out, as the locals spat in your face) you figured you would have to settle here for now.

So settle you did, until you had enough resources to get to a bigger city.

In life, you were an artist, it was the one thing you felt like you could do best, so that's what you decided to do in Hell too.

For many years, you were the definition of a starving artist. You moved from town to town, city to city, with only enough money to get you through each day.

You didn't have a home to call your own, so you often had to find small little nooks and crannies in backstreets and alleyways at night.

During the day, you offered super cheap portraits on the street. Some sinners scoffed and looked down at you, calling you all sorts of degrading names that you had never heard before. Meanwhile other sinners were so vain, demanding you capture their beauty to their unrealistic standards. But you gave them what they wanted, after all, beggars can't be choosers down here.

This same cycle repeated for many long years, until a few decades later, you found yourself slowly working for higher-profile clients, starting from a variety of store owners until you eventually had your first Overlord client commission you to make a large-scale magnificent portrait of them.

After this big break, you began to get more commissions from other Overlords, both big and small.

It was around this time, decades after your arrival to Hell, that you found yourself not starving anymore. You didn't have to worry about the day-to-day, and even though you could afford a really nice place even in a big city of one of the rings of hell, you chose to keep it more low-key and stayed in a small, humble apartment.

It was easy to relocate and take the bare minimum essentials and move onto the next town, city, or ring of Hell.

Even after many decades in Hell, you never forgot about the love of your life- Alastor.

It's why you chose to live in such a small apartment, with not many material belongings except for your work/art materials.

You made it easy to pick up and move because you were searching for Alastor all these years.

You didn't want to sound insulting, but you knew he had to end up in Hell too.

But it was hard to find one specific person in all of hell. After all, you knew you had to tread carefully. Names and connections hold a lot of power and reign supreme down here.

Unfortunately, this led you to a bunch of dead ends or nothing at all. Investigating wasn't really your strong suit, but you did your damn best.

As you were reminiscing the past, both of your life on Earth and in the years you've resided in Hell (which doubled or was even close to tripling the number of years as you lived on Earth at this point), you got up from your chair and decided it was time to pack up again.

One of your acquaintances that was a lackey to one of the Overlords in the area let you know that a turf war was going to happen soon, so you figured now was the time to pack up and make your way to the only ring of hell you hadn't been to- the Pride ring.

Given the nature of your business, you had a feeling business would be booming in the Pride ring. You had a feeling that the Pride ring would be your best bet to make connections and find any potential leads on where the love of your life would be.

However, every time you traveled into a new ring, you had to sneak in as unnoticed as possible because "sinners" aren't supposed to be able to travel freely between the rings of hell.

It was a wonder that you still had ownership over your own soul after all these years, especially considering you've done many commissions for high-profile demons and Overlords throughout almost all of the rings of hell at this point.

You sigh as you bring your hood over your head and leave your home with just a briefcase of art supplies once more.

-> Part 9

[almalvo]

About An Official Spiderverse Artist...

Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.

If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.

But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:

I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.

So here I am.

And I got something to say about a certain "artist".

There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.

Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).

There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.

If you have seen this:

Then you have seen this artist before.

His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.

He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.

Yes. Former.

Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.

You may have also seen this character before:

Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".

Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.

I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.

BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:

Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).

13. year. old. child.

This man only sees east asian women this way.

He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--

and young.

Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:

Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.

Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.

And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -

His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.

His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.

They look as creepy as they are.

But the scariest part?

While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.

And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.

And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.

So yeah.

I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.

My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.

Keep away.

Do not support this man.

But the decision is ultimately yours.

Stay awake, yall.

-------

(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):

scary.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

word count: 10.2K

paring: Sero x fReader

warning(s): dirty talking, fingering(f! receiving), premature ejaculation, messy sex, semi-public sex (if ya squint) - you know the works here, pretty standard smut, nothing too crazy.

authors note: Happy Belated Birthday to me! Not only did the amazing Onyx give me this idea MONTHS ago about the dynamic between Sero and I, but this won the poll for what I was going to work on next - and though I went with Bakugou's story first (cause it was fresher in my mind) I have finally finished this! AND OH BOY, how self-indulgent I was with this one - I am not known for my dialog but couldn't help but put lots in here! That being said, I did try and keep this as generic as I could, just may not be AS generic, ya know? Anyway, I hope you all love this glorified tape dispenser as much as I do~���

Sero had always loved to draw, even when he was a little kid. What started as scribbles covering the walls of his home turned into small doodles - those that filled his notebooks more than his writing and school work turned into piles and piles of sketchbooks that were filled with intricate drawings and were stacked high within the confines of his room. 

He remembered being little, using washable markers to doodle fun patterns and designs on his arms and the arms of his friends, remembering how most recess breaks were filled with doing a doodle request for several fellow classmates. To being older, and having those same classmates come up to him to see if they could utilize his skills to make projects look nicer; to make epic banners for school events, or to make posters pop in his signature way. Even while he was in college, next to a prestigious art school that only accepted a handful of creatives a year, he had people beg him to create designs for tattoos they were wanting to get; willing to pay lots of money so they could forever have a drawing of his on their skin.

And that sparked something inside him. A passion to turn a hobby into a career.

It took years and years of effort, of schooling, of practicing, of littering his skin with designs both good and bad - and subsequently spending more time fixing his faults - and then shadowing those more experienced, to be taken into their shops and under their wings, so he may draw on the bodies of those that were hoping to decorate their skin. Not all patrons were ideal; some were not hygienic, and others moved too much and then complained of sloppy work, demanding a refund. And not all shop owners were pleasant to work for; many accepted clients even when they shouldn't, often dismissing those beneath them out of pride and a superiority complex, and always taking the side of those patrons trying to scam him and his time. But there were a few people that made it all worth it in the end, a few colleagues turned friends that made ‘sticking it out’ much more bearable.

And without all the bumps and hurdles, Sero would not have become as confident in his abilities and his worth, and he would not have had the chance to meet so many amazing people and artists - some of which had the same goal and ideas in mind as he did; who would follow him wherever he went. Before he even knew it, Hanta Sero finally achieved his goal, of making his childhood dream and hobby into a reality. He finally owned his tattoo parlor. 

He found a little shop within the city, perfect enough for him and a few friends to call their own, to create their own brand, and to make their own living; to finally call the shots and have complete creative control. The building itself was a little run down - something to be expected with the small price tag attached - but it was the ideal size for all of them and in the perfect location. So no one cared that it needed a few months of intense TLC to get the building up to code, it was more than worth the effort. And before anyone knew it the inspector came to claim the building was up to standards, giving the business license and the all-clear to start accepting patrons; it only took a few days before people heard the news.

When word got around that Sero and his business partners had finally opened their shop, to start accepting clients and creating art on their skin that they would enjoy for a lifetime, so many jumped on the chance to get an appointment with them - Sero especially. Some were people he had known for years, eagerly awaiting another drawing of ink, and some were those that saw his work on the many social pages advertising the business that wanted to add another to their growing collections. Whatever the case was, once he turned on the neon ‘open’ sign on the day of opening, he and his friends were booked for months in advance.

And the cherry on top of all of this? Another wonderful addition to the streams of success he was facing, was the bookstore that sat just across the street from him. 

Not because he was into books, though he did read from time to time and enjoyed it when he did, but because of the owner that bookshop had. At first, he couldn’t be sure you were the owner, but day in and day out he watched you show up at opening and leave at closing, and unless you were an incredibly dedicated employee, it was an easy assumption to make. And Sero couldn’t deny that he thought you were pretty when he first caught sight of you through his window after closing on his first day; and he couldn’t deny that he would wait with anticipation when you closed your shop and would begin making your way home, just so he could get a glimpse of your cute face.

He wished he had the free time to go and speak to you, to see you up close and hear your voice (which he could just tell was adorable and sweet), but his clientele made it nearly impossible for him to get the chance. By the time the last client would leave, your shop would already be closed, and for some time, with you nowhere in sight. There were just simply not enough hours in the day for him to spare to meet you; as well he was terrified of canceling an appointment or rejecting a client so early on in all of this, afraid that one bad comment could ruin the shop and cause it to sink.

But Sero always made the best of any situation, that was part of his charm. He figured that if he didn’t have the time to go in and speak to you, to properly act on his little crush, he would let you know who he was and his existence through different means. 

Romantic gestures that could be seen as small and friendly - those that wouldn’t scare you off or have you become afraid. He started by sending you flowers; a small bouquet to help liven your shop if you wanted; which you did if the vase by your check-out counter was any indication. Next were chocolates, all bundled in pretty wrapping paper for you to carefully tear away. Then balloons, attached to a small gift basket with quality skincare items that could be found at his shop with his business card nustled amongst the jars and tins to ensure that you knew who sent them and that it was from the new neighbor across the street - not some strange admirer. 

He could tell that you liked them, given the delight that bloomed on your face whenever you received them - the bright smile as you brought those flowers to your nose to inhale their earthy scent, or when you eagerly started to open up some of the chocolates to enjoy, or when you carefully inspected each tin of cream; placing a small dollop on the back of your hand before putting them aside and back to your work. Sero especially knew you liked them when, a week later, you sent a gift basket back to him filled with artisan treats from the local farmers market; with a card welcoming the new store to the neighborhood.

After a while of staring hopelessly at you, to the point where all his friends were relentlessly teasing him, Sero finally made the decision to meet you properly; to make his way over to your shop to say hello. 

“And it has nothing to do with Kaminari!” he exclaimed at Kirishima and Mina, ensuring they could hear him over the snickering, as he grabbed his jacket to sling over his shoulders.

“Sure, whatever you say, big guy~” Mina sang as waved goodbye with a wink, clearly not buying it - especially as Kaminari just got back from your shop, book in hand that you recommended.

Sero shook his head, out of frustration at Mina’s words knowing that she called his bluff, as he slammed the door shut behind him and briskly walked across the street; breathing a sigh of relief, one that made the tension in his shoulder slack, when he stepped foot into your shop. It was everything he thought a bookstore should be; it was cozy and warm, the kind that would make anyone instantly at ease and would spend hours just curled up to read; which he assumed the patron he walk passed had been doing all day.

“Welcome! Can I help you?” A voice sang through the air, causing his head to turn to face a young woman - sadly not you - wearing an apron with the store's logo on it.

“Uh, not sure.” Sero smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgment, and as a polite hello, before gazing around.

“First time here?” She inquired, moving behind a nearby counter to grab a stack of books.

“Yeah, pretty obvious huh?”

“A little, many have the look on their face when they first come in. It’s a little overwhelming at times, the place is a bit bigger than they assume.”

“You could say that again…” Sero could hear her airy giggle, watching in the corner of her eye as she began to sort through the titles.

“I can give you the run down if you like?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem at all, sir.” She smiled, pausing her task to free her hands for gesturing with her explanation  “This place is a lot like a library, people can come and go as they please, staying all day if they want to, without the pressure of needing to buy something. They can also borrow books for a small fee if they want, to ensure they don’t waste their money on a bad book, or they can obviously purchase them if they want.”

“A safe haven for those that love books, huh?” Sero chimed with a smile, taking another glance at all the sitting areas close to him - the plush pillows and fireplace inviting for those that would want to curl up.

“Pretty much, that was the idea” The employee agreed, already starting to sort again “Have a look and take all the time you need.”

Sero left her with a ‘thank you’ and another nod before venturing further into the store - taking stock of what sections of books there were and all the small cozy nooks for people to curl up in; taking his time to explore the entirety of the shop before leaving. “For research purposes, in case I wanna go back” he would mumble to himself, ready to defend his actions from his teasing friends upon his return. It was for those reasons, and those alone, not at all because he was trying to find you.

He finally did come across you, after what seemed like hours of searching, hidden away within the Historical Fiction sections tucked near the back walls, shelving some books that were stacked within your arms and reorganizing the ones that had been misplaced. To say Sero was smitten with you would have been an understatement before, but now? Seeing you so close? Smitten would not even begin to compare to how love-struck he was; one so strong it struck him dumb and left him unable to do anything but look at you.

“Sir?” 

Sero couldn’t tell if he was lucky or not to have your voice call out to him; luck that it broke him out of the stupor he was in, unlucky that he was unable to say or do anything more than gaze up at you with his mouth agape.

“Do… do you need help with anything?” Your sweet voice called out to him again, though clearly confused, and it made Sero look away to try and gain his thoughts once more.

“A-art book.” He cleared his throat, cheeks turning hot and red as his eyes did their best to look anywhere but you “Looking for one of those.”

“Well, which one?” You smiled, biting your lip to hide it as you gently placed the books you were holding down.

“Art, The Definitive Visual Guide” Sero blurted, voice sounding rushed as he named the first art book he bought when in college; watching as your brows furrowed as you took a moment to process what he said.

“By Dixon?” 

“Y-yes!” Sero exclaimed, eyes brightening and heart swelling with pride when you giggled over his excitement.

“Well, that would be in our art section, which would be…” You began to lean forward, carefully perching yourself on your ladder to see past the bookshelf currently in your way “Ah! Just over there!”

“O-over there?” Sero nodded, trying his best to not be affected by the smell of your shampoo as it lingered in the air as you moved to stand upright again “T-that’s perfect thank you!”

“Oh, no worries at all! You just let me know if you can’t find it okay?” You smiled, already picking your books back up.

Sero smiled back, giving a wave goodbye, before almost scurrying away; head hanging in defeat once he knew you were out of sight. A small part of him hoped he couldn’t find the book so he could talk to you again, but he knew that would be a mistake - especially as the spine of the book stared right back at him when he first began looking in the section you sent him to. Begrudgingly he accepted his fate, bringing the book up to the front cash and paying the borrowing fee to the employee he met earlier.

He came back to the parlor feeling like a complete idiot over messing up his first proper encounter with you, not doing at all what he planned to do - not being the effortlessly charming and fun guy he knew he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep stopping by. 

After all, he had to return the book he borrowed.

~

Sero waited a week, in his mind if he went back the next day it would cause him more harm than good; would lead to you asking him way more questions than he would want about the book itself - and well, he already made a fool of himself once. Besides, the week-long buffer would allow him the chance to clear his head and come up with a game plan, so he could be properly prepared himself to see you again.

Because this time he wanted to start an actual conversation with you, one where he could learn about who you were, why you opened this store and everything in between that led to this moment in time. He wanted to know if his crush on you was justified, or if he should just cut his losses now before he was in too deep. But to be fair, based on what all his friends have said, he already was; even so, he couldn’t hold onto that book forever.

Regardless of what the outcome may be, he had to see you again; even if it meant rescheduling a client for a Sunday to make up the lost time, he just had to get to you and your store before closing.

And it was the perfect time to go he found. The store was almost completely empty, with seemingly no one else in the building but you as you began your usual routine for closing - so dutifully organizing stacks of papers and placing books that needed to be returned into a neat little pile; he almost felt bad for clearing his throat and breaking you out of your stride.

“H-hi!” You exclaimed, your body jolting in surprise when you regarded him, clearly not used to anyone being here so late “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner, I hope you weren’t waiting long!”

“No you’re fine, I just walked in,” Sero reassured, taking a step closer to your counter.

“Oh, are you here to return that art book? The one by Dixon?” You asked, back straightening as you smiled up at him. “I hope you liked it!”

“I did, it was a great read.” Sero mirrored your smile as he handed the book back over to you, enjoying the way your smaller hand brushed against his briefly “Though I was wondering if you could me find a similar book?”

“Sure, of course! Do you want a recommendation or are you looking for a specific title?”

“Uh, Creatives on Creativity is what I am looking for,” Sero said, breathing a mental sigh of relief over remembering the title - one he only heard of a day prior when searching for art books to ask you about.

“Creatives on Creativity…” You mumbled, turning to your computer to check if you had the title in stock - the sound of a keyboard clacking could be heard, filling the silent space briefly “By Steve Brouwers?”

“Yup! That’s the one” Sero confirmed with a nod, perfectly hiding the fact he was completely unsure as he watched you round the counter of the counter with a wave.

“Yeah, we should have a few in stock if you would follow me!”

You took him back to the Art Section, your stride confident as you weaved your way through bookcases and magazine towers, as you began locating the book in question; trying to remember where exactly you cataloged it - whether it was with the Art Help books or the Art Education ones.

Sero followed behind you, keeping his stride to a more casual pace to avoid possibly stepping on your heels, as he regarded your profile; enjoying the concentrated gazes, those mixed with slight perplexity, as you looked from shelf to shelf trying to help him out. Never before was he grateful, and possibly will never be again, about having trouble trying to find a book.

“Can I ask you something?” He finally spoke, watching as you began to stand on a small stool to look at a higher shelf, figuring his time was running out.

“Uh, sure?” You muttered, voice soft as you continued on your hunt. “Go ahead”

“I’m sure you get asked this all the time, but I’m curious as to what a bookshop owner's favourite book is?” 

“Oh! Wow, that’s a great question!” You said, finally sparing him a brief glance with a smile “And one that’s kinda tough to answer. I love books from all genres for different reasons, so to compare one that’s horror to one that’s fantasy is a little difficult to do.”

“Well, what are you enjoying right now?” Sero asked, body leaning against the bookshelf so he could continue gazing up at you.

“Uhh, wow what am I reading right now?” You chuckled nervously as your mind began to race, feeling your cheeks heat up as you heard him do so as well “Let's see… probably The Historian, it’s a thriller mystery kinda deal - involves vampires and stuff - it’s proving to be quite fun” 

“Vampires?”

“Yeah… it’s historical fiction. It blurs the lines of what happened with whatever our imaginations can think of with the folklore of Vlad Țepeș and Dracula. Partly why I like it I guess…”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sero hummed, watching as you scanned the titles before you, almost as if you were counting each one for inventory later “Take it that’s why you opened this place? Fell in love with reading books from far and wide?”

“Something like that” You agreed with a shrug of your shoulders “Wanted to be a librarian, always thought they had a great gig going on, and one thing led to another and, well, here we are.”

As you spoke your deft fingers delicately pulled the book you both were looking for from its place in the self, where it was hiding. Once you secured it in your grip, you slowly descended from your stool handing the book out to him once your feet were securely on the ground.

“And here you are.” You smiled, watching as he stood upright and uncrossed his arms.

“Thanks, for finding this for me” He gingerly took the book from you and tucked it under his arm, smiling wider at your cheery response back; following you obediently back up to the cash to once again pay the borrowing fee.

“Hey, if you don’t mind…” Sero began, fingers tapping nervously against the wood of the countertop “I have one more question to ask ya.”

“Sure, go ahead!” You giggled, amused by his polite curiosity as you began the transaction of payment.

“Would you want to go for some coffee sometime?”

His question made your fingers fumble on the touchpad, causing an error screen to pop up and for you to almost frantically try to fix, and you nervously cleared your throat; face going hot in surprise and embarrassment over your stumbled, and failed, answer back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or make you uncomfortable” Sero tried to soothe, hands raising up and away from the bubble around you to prove he meant no harm “Just think you’re cute and would like to treat you to some coffee, that’s all.”

“W-well, that’s um, very sweet of you, I just um…” You floundered, doing your best to finish quickly so you could hide away from him - to shield him from witnessing your embarrassment further “Just don’t think that would be a good idea?”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Y-you know, we’re strangers! We only met a few days ago and all….”

“Actually we’re neighbors, good ones at that if our gift exchange was anything to go by.” Sero clarified, watching as the realization of who he was crossed your face, his hands lowered to shove themselves in his jacket pockets before shrugging his shoulders “But hey, not gonna pressure you or anything. If you don’t want to that’s cool, I won’t pressure you!”

“I’m flattered, believe me, just….” You countered a sheepish look on your face as you passed the book back his way for him to take “Maybe some other time.”

“Sure thing, thank you again,” Sero said, giving you one last small smile before taking his book and leaving; wishing you a good night as he walked past the threshold of your store with a wave.

A few things were certain that night; the first being that you were worth having a crush on, and he would love the chance to treat you right. And second, you were not used to the straightforward approach, and if he didn’t want to screw anything up, he would have to be patient and go about things slowly.

But Sero Hanta was up for any challenge, and you were more than worth the wait.

~

After that night, Sero found himself stopping by your shop a few times a week; to return a new book he borrowed (and spent the night before diligently reading), and to further chat with you. The conversations were always led by a question or two before it sparked into something beautiful - he loved the way you would ramble, talking with your hands, as you explained something, how passionate you got over the things you loved, and how blessed he found himself when you tried to tell a story from when you were younger but couldn’t over your laughter of remembering it all.

And after each night, when the conversation had reached its end and the book he had paid for was tucked snugly under his arm, he would, without fail, ask you out on a date as he was leaving your shop; in love with the smile and the amused shake of your head when you bid him a simple goodnight, to - “try again some other time” - before shutting the door behind him and switching you sign to closed.

Slowly but surely you were coming out of your shell, becoming more than eager to spend the last hour in his company; you didn’t realize it right away, but soon you found yourself noticing how excited you got when you would greet him. Or how you would try and keep the conversation going just a little bit longer as you walked to the cash, not wanting the night to end so soon. And how you would linger close to him before closing the door and saying good night. He was fun company, some of the best you ever had, and you couldn’t deny that you were starting to catch feelings for him too; to slowly become as enamored as he was.

Sero noticed this little factor as well, after a couple of months of visiting, when it was you who ask him a question; as you gingerly took hold of his arm to get a better look at the intricate tattoo that was perfectly placed on his forearm after handing him his recently purchased item.

“Did you do this yourself?” You whispered, almost in awe, as your fingertips barely brushed over the details of the design.

“Yeah,” Sero breathed out, quite taken aback by your bold action - though nowhere near complaining. “Took a while, but I think it turned out great.”

“Did you design it too?”

“Mm-hmm, designed all the tattoos on my body.” His eyes shifted their gaze from his arm to your face, “Wanted to work on my skin first before anyone else’s, just in case I wasn’t good at it.”

“I think it’s safe to say that you are, it’s beautiful work.”

“Do you have one?” 

“N-no…” You broke your gaze away, taking a step back from him - completely aware of how close and possibly inappropriate you were behaving.

“You want one?” Sero inquired with a clear of his throat; wanting nothing more than to move closer to you again, to gain that moment of intimacy once more, but knew he couldn’t

“Well yeah,” You shrugged, looking anywhere but at him, “But I just never really know what to get, and I don’t wanna regret getting something cause it’ll be on my skin forever, you know?”

“I can design something for you if you want?” 

“You would?”

“Obviously, wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to!” He smiled, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and a marker from your countertop “Just tell me some things that you like, and I’ll come up with something! See, I already know you like owls, and foxes, and of course historical fiction and fantasy books…”

“Sero, listen this is really sweet! I am honored you would do this for me and all but….” You began, cutting him off from his parade of knowledge of all things you loved - heart swelling almost uncomfortably with the attention - “But really, you don't have to do this for me.”

“You kidding, I would love to! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have done this for a living; hard to make a career out of something you hate!”

“Yeah, clearly, I obviously get it. But even so, you’re booked for months! You got plenty of other clients that need your attention and designs a lot more than I do.”

“Oh ho~ How do you know I’m booked for months?” Sero teased, enjoying how you looked away in fake annoyance as your shoulders raised in embarrassment “Even if I was, which you’re so cutely right that I am, I would reserve a spot for you regardless.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it can be after hours too, if you wanted.” Sero offered, with a shrug “Ya know if that would help put your nerves at ease; less people and all that stuff. And it could help make you feel better about accepting my offer~ I wouldn’t have to cancel on a client if you did.”

You sighed, shoulder slumping as you weighed his very tempting offer. You had been wanting a tattoo, ever since the new parlor opened across the street; and especially so every time you looked in Sero’s direction - the ink that was littered across his skin was beautiful - now here was the most perfect opportunity to finally get one and to get some more alone time with the artist himself; you knew you would regret it every day if you said no; despite your nerves telling you otherwise.

Squaring your shoulders you finally looked back at him, giving him a nod of approval over his proposition.

“Yes!” His fists thumped the counter as he proclaimed his excitement over your acceptance “I promise you won’t regret it! I’ll start working on the designs tonight and will have them done A-S-A-P!”

“Okay, okay!” You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at his childish behavior “Sounds good to me.”

“Oh! One more thing!” He passed the marker over to you, his palm slayed out as if acting as a canvas “I’ll need your number so I can both let you know when the design is done and so I can book you in for your appointment.”

“Okay, well then hand me the paper you were just scribbling on” You pointed and the scrap paper, brows furrowing when you watched him shake his head ‘no”. 

“No can do babe, it’s covered with stuff already. Just write it on my hand”

“Sero, this is a permanent marker, I’m not going to do that!”

“I think I’m more than comfortable with permanent ink on my skin,” Sero winked, moving his palm closer to you “It’ll come off in a few days, but hey, if you don’t want me to leave you could just say so~”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes again, hating that he was right and you were wasting time yet again to have him stay longer. You acquiesced, taking hold of his hand to keep it steady as you carefully wrote your number, being sure it was as clear as possible to avoid any confusion or mishaps that could be caused if you didn’t.

You watched as Sero left, head held high and chest filled with puffed-up pride as he sauntered back to the parlor; clearly happy with himself at winning you over and gaining your number.

~

It only took four days before you got the message from Sero; stating, with plenty of exclamation marks, about how your design was done and to stop by at any time to come and review the sketches - he was more than happy to squeeze you in at a time that worked best for you; whether that be between a client or after-hours.

And well, the thought of coming after hours was tempting, your confidence in quelling those nerves that swam in your stomach wasn’t strong enough yet; you were already pushing your limits when it came to the tattoo appointment. But the thought of you extending your lunch break by a few minutes seemed like a good idea.

The sign said ‘Closed for Lunch’ when you finally made your way across the street, and though Sero was insistent that you could come in regardless, you were still a little hesitant; standing by the door debating whether to knock or just walk in.

The decision was made for you when a woman with beautiful soft pink hair opened the door, startling you out of your thoughts as she asked if she could help you with anything.

“I-i’m just here to review some sketches…” You mumbled, hands playing nervously with your phone that still had the messages from Sero open “But I can come back if you’re closed!”

“It’s with Sero right?” She inquired, golden eyes squinting at you as they scanned you from head to toe; 

“Yeah..” You nodded your head, trying your best not to shift your body in reaction to her gaze.

“Oh my gosh! So it’s you! The librarian across the street!” She squealed, wasting no time in taking your arm and pulling you into the shop  “I’ve heard so much about you! Just been dying to meet you! I’m Mina, one of the artists here.”

“Bookstore owner….” You mumbled, casting a shy smile her way as you gave her your name “Heard about you as well, it’s really nice to meet you too”

“Right, bookstore owner, sorry about that!” Mina waved in apology, taking a step back to appraise you once more “and I gotta say, super jealous of Sero that he snagged you as his client; you’re a total babe! Like, that outfit is to die for! Where’s you get it?”

You could feel the blood rush to your face at her statement, her brazen compliment both flattered and embarrassed you as you mumbled out a ‘thank you’ as you gazed down at what you were wearing.

“And oh my god, your nails!” She exclaimed again, taking hold of your hand to inspect closely inspect your delicately painted fingernails “These are so pretty! Where’d you get them done?”

“Uh, the spa a few blocks down the road” You answered with a breathless laugh at her enthusiasm “They always do a good job.”

“I can tell! I’ve always wanted to check them out, but was a little unsure, but now I’m definitely gonna go as soon as I can!” She squealed, squeezing your hand in delight “Oh, but you’re not here for me, which is a total bummer. Sero’s station is just back here, I’ll let him know you’re here!”

You gave her your thanks, appreciating her help and unknowingly helping you become more at ease, as she led you to Sero’s area; leaving you with a wave and a promise he’ll join you in a few minutes. 

His area was quite spacious, possibly the largest out of the others you passed, and the furthest from the front door. His chair and equipment sat near the center of it all, just slightly off to the left for others to pass by, and looked clean and organized as you peered around the room. He had a work table as well, pressed up against the wall, with a book of design and sketches.

If you were braver you would have opened it and gone through the slightly worn pages to see what they contained. But instead, you opted to scan the wall before you, taking in the fun, wild, and beautiful designs that were taped to them; staring in awe at just how beautiful they all were. Masterpieces in black and coloured ink, ones you were sure some lucky people got to wear proudly on their skin.

Or perhaps they were littered on his…

Sadly, you couldn’t allow your mind the chance to wander to such thoughts, to wonder just how much of his body was covered in ink and how low some tattoos would travel, before you hear his footsteps approaching.

“Hey! Admiring the wall?” He greeted, his smile as bright and friendly as always when he greeted you

“Yeah, the designs are beautiful” You glanced back at him with a smile “But I think you already knew that.”

“What can I say, just like hearing people sing my praises!” He joked with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders before walking up to you “But we’re not here to talk about these, eh?”

You watched as he gently, smoothly, pulled open a large drawer at the table you were currently standing at, one you didn’t realize was there given the sleek design. Carefully he pulled out a tiny stack of papers, laying them out before you to inspect and admire, as his arm kept him leaning over the table, and more importantly, you.

You tried your best not to be affected by his voice, how his breath tickled your ear, as he spoke about the direction he went with the designs. Some larger, more detailed as they encompassed all the things you loved - like the barn owl sounded by flora and books before a full moon - and some that were smaller, simply beholden of a single item you loved, like a sitting fox amongst fall leaves; and where on your body each tattoo would be placed.

He left a pause when he was done speaking, allowing you the chance to mill over what he said; to further inspect his designs, and to take your time in picking out what you wanted most; unable to help himself from staring at you, eyes half-lidded, as you bit your lip in concentration.

“I like the fox,” you finally whispered, pulling the sketch closer to you to admire it further, already imagining where it will sit on your arm.

“Yeah?” was all Sero could breathe out as he leaned in closer to you

“Mm-hmm” You nodded, finally turning your head to face him; watching as his eyes gazed at your lips, causing you to do the same “...h-how much will it be?”

You could feel your breath catching in your throat as Sero ignored your question, instead taking the opportunity to lean his face closer to yours; feeling his breath gently fan against your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation; wanting nothing more than to feel what his kiss would be like.

“Sero, delivery is here!”

A gruff voice is what made you turn your head away; face scrunching in frustration over the unwanted interruption. You heard him sigh; feeling cold and a little disappointed when you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“Yeah… I’ll be right there Bakugou…” Sero spoke firmly, trying his best to keep his voice from sounding frustrated and annoyed as he looked back at his friend “Just finishing up here.”

Sero took another deep breath, one that turned into a loud sigh, over the now-ruined moment as he pulled the fox design from the pile of paper; taking a step away from you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about paying, it’s on the house.” He gave a pained smile, slowly backing his way towards the backrooms, to where Bakugou was waiting “Just pick a day with Mina and we’ll go from there, ‘kay?”

You simply nodded your head, giving him a small smile and wave as you watched him disappear; taking the time to finally release the air you were holding as you clenched your fist in anger over your ruined kiss; at how perfect Bakugou’s timing was in all of it.

But after a moment, you couldn’t help but laugh; shaking your head in amusement as slowly made your way back to the front desk to book your appointment; knowing you had to get back to work soon and relieve your assistant.

~

It wasn’t long before the day of your tattoo arrived; the Saturday you booked it for came faster than anticipated, though the entire day felt like a year as you kept glancing at the clock to see how much time has passed, only to groan to yourself when it showed a mere 10-minutes.

Cataloging books did help with your dilemma, taking your mind off the many hours between you and seeing Sero again, as you continuously went up and down your little ladder to put the many returned books away. And before long, it was 9:00 pm, and you could flip your sign to ‘Closed’ and make your way across the street. 

You were surprised, given that the parlor was supposedly closed - or at the very least seeing their last clients at that point of the night - to see all the artists by the front desk chatting away; almost as if they were waiting for you to arrive.

“There you are!” Mina exclaimed, making her way from behind the desk over to where you stood, taking your jacket, and hanging it up for you “Thought you got cold feet on us!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that” You smiled, allowing her to complete her courteous gesture “And if I did cancel I would make sure you knew.”

“Are you excited!? First tattoos are always the most fun!”

“I am! Been looking forward to this all week!” 

“Oh, I’m sure you have~” Mina winked, “Now, let me introduce you to the other artist! Well, we’re all friends here but ya know.” She guided you over to where the three men stood, pointing first to a blonde with an unamused expression “You already met Bakugou last time you were here, I think you met Kaminari when he was at your store a few weeks back. And that giant redhead is Kirishima - he looks more scary than he is!”

 “It’s really nice to meet you!” Kirishima smiled, nudging Bakugou to acknowledge your presence - which he did in the form of a nod - before extending his hand out to you to shake “Heard a lot about you, been meaning to stop by your store for a while now. Apparently, you give good recommendations!”

“Oh, I do?” You asked, gingerly shaking his hand with a confused expression

“Of course you do, babe! Why else would Sero keep bugging you~” Kaminari jumped in, winking as he took your hand in his own and squeezed it “Nice to see you in our neck of the woods finally.”

“Okay okay! That’s enough, you guys!” Sero finally emerged, walking his way in between the group to disperse them; pulling Kaminari away from you to force him to let go of your hand “You should all be getting ready to leave, as you said you would!”

“Oh come on man! We just wanted to say hi to her!” Kaminari whined as he, and the rest of the group, were huddled towards to back of the place while you stood in place, fighting off a wave of giggles that were threatening to overcome you over the whole scene.

After a moment Sero returned, smoothing out his shirt as he tries his best to act as nonchalantly as possible; an act you could see right through given the blush that was dusting his cheeks but decided not to comment on.

“Sorry about all that, you ready to get started?” He asked, hand running through his hair nervously.

You hum in agreement, head nodding as you let him guide you back to his station; once there he motioned for you to get comfortable on the plush leather chair as he got his equipment ready.

 “Your friends are really nice,” You commented, tugging up the sleeve of your shirt for ease of access.

“Yeah, they are” Sero admitted, chuckling to himself “Pains in the ass half the time, but they mean well”

“Well, that’s how you know they love you” You chimed, sitting more upright as you watched him press an alcohol swab against your skin for a moment

“Guess you’re right.” He shrugged, holding up the stencil of your tattoo next to your arm “You want the tattoo here or a little lower?”

“No, there looks good! After all, you are the expert” You smiled, allowing him to press the paper against your skin; feeling him pressing down on it, before removing it to showcase the temporary art that was to forever be marked on your skin.

“Yeah that looks good,” He murmured, taking his tattoo machine in hand and dipping it in ink “Now, you let me know if this hurts, or becomes too unbearable okay?”

“Okay..” You bit your lip and nodded your head as you stared at the machine.

“Don’t worry, on arms you normally can’t feel anything” Sero reassured “ and I’ve got a steady hand which helps. All this just looks more scary than it is.”

“Like Kirishima”

“Yeah!” He laughed, shaking his head at your silly, but accurate, comment “Just like Kiri. Now, take a deep breath for me, kay?”

You nodded and did as you were told, taking a deep breath as his machine whirled to life; you watched with bated breath as it approached your skin, letting out a large sigh of relief when it finally touched you and no pain could be felt.

“See? Not so bad, yeah?” Sero smiled, slowly beginning to outline his design.

“Yeah…”

You didn’t converse much after that, not because you didn’t want to, but rather because you were blown away by Sero’s skills and concentration. You had never seen this side of him before. Normally he was goofy, animated, and fun, which you thought was endearing and cute; gave him his boyish charm. But now? As you watched his brows furrow and eyes look at you with such steely focus, you couldn’t help but find him extremely attractive. Choosing not to break the silence in fear of breaking his concentration, and thus this newfound allure, or embarrassing yourself.

Though he did make it difficult.

Throughout the entire session, every time he needed to shade something or thicken a line, he would always praise you after; claiming you were doing ‘such a good job’ for pushing through it; or for being called a ‘good girl’ when you took a needed deep breath at the right moment in time.

He said it so often that you can’t tell if he’s being reassuring or doing it to get a rise out of you; to tease you to see you get all hot and bothered.

Whatever the case was, it was affecting you way more than it should have; lighting a small fire deep within your core as you tried to rub your thighs together without him noticing to relieve some of the newfound pressure, as you suppressed all the small squeaks your wanted body wanted to let out every time another praise left his mouth.

It was agonizing torture in the best possible way; and when the session was finally done, when he was gently placing cellophane wrap over your fresh tattoo, you weren’t sure whether you were relieved or disappointed that it was all over.

“How much…” You gently cleared your throat, voice a little raspy over underuse “How much do I owe you again?”

“I already told you, babe,” Sero chuckled, carefully putting away his equipment “It’s on the house, my treat for you allowing me to borrow all those books.”

“You paid for those, Sero” You shot back, legs moving over the side of the chair as you leaned closer to him; showcasing your cleavage further from the lowcut hem of your shirt “I can’t just let you give me something like this for free - it’s not fair.”

“I told you, I like doing this.” He shrugged, ignoring you and your subsequent subtle attempts of seduction “More than happy to do this for you, think of it as a first-timer bonus!”

“There must be some way I can pay you back”

It was your tone that made Sero’s back straighten, clearing his throat he carefully placed what was in his hand down to turn and face you - breathing ceasing when he saw you sitting so pretty for him; the dark look in your eye making this cock twitch to life in his pants.

Sero couldn’t help it when his tongue poked out to lick his lips, unable to stop his eyes from trailing over your figure sitting before him; his own legs spreading further apart as he shifted a little closer to you; making you bite your lip. 

“How about finally going on that date with me?” He offered, hands twitching in his lap as he tried his best to restrain himself from touching you without permission.

“Payments happen immediately after a service…it wouldn’t be right paying you back days later, especially after you did such an amazing job” You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper as you tilted your head up; brushing your nose against his “I prefer to pay you back now, kay?”

“Kay…” Sero barely even had the chance to whisper the word out before your lips pressed firmly into his; hands fisting into his shirt to keep him from pulling away.

As if Sero even wanted to move away, his own hands reaching out to pull you closer to him; closing any inch of space between him and your soft body. His hand cupped your face to deepen the long-awaited kiss that he dreamed about for weeks, as he slotted between your legs, groping and pinching the meat of your thigh as he hiked your leg up to wrap around his waist as he placed more of his weight onto you; groaning into your open when your clothed cunt brushed against his hardening length.

Your sweet, breathless, mewls were addicting and it made his mind dizzy with lust as his lips descended down your jaw and onto your neck; licking and sucking on the sensitive skin you so graciously barred to him, biting down on your pulse to hear you cry out his name into the heated air as he continued to grind his hips against yours.

His kisses continued downwards to your chest, pulling your shirt down - not bothering or wanting to take a mere moment to part from you to properly rid yourself of the article of clothing - before his lips began to suckle at the plump flesh his found; moaning into the heated flesh as he relished the way your hand began to tangle and tug at his hair.

It was all so much, and yet not enough for you; the fire that slowly emerged in your core was raging for me, not being fully satisfied with his sweet kisses or the grind of his hips. You needed more, been craving for more for hours, and you were starting to get a little impatient as you guided the hand pinching and stroking your thigh up to your core.

“Sero, please, touch me more,” You sighed out, legs widening to give him better access as held his hand against the damp cotton of your panties

“Hanta,” He corrected you, wringing his hand from your grasp to slowly stroke his knuckle up and down your slit “call me that, and I’ll do what you want, you needly little thing.”

“Hanta, please? Want you…” You whined, arching your back in an attempt to get more friction; unable to keep the smile off your face when you heard him groaning; clearly loving the way his name sounded off your needy tongue.

“That’s a good girl, hips up” He gently coaxed your lower half off the chair to pull your panties down your leg; pocketing them for later, before slowly guiding your legs to spead even wider for him “Already so wet after a few kisses, hm?” 

You looked away, face buried into his neck, the heat burning your cheeks in embarrassment over his teasing, as you nodded your head - unable to muster the courage to say the truth - as your heart fluttered over his rumbling chuckle.

“Aw, are we shy now?” He teased even more, deft fingers spreading your lower lips apart to gently stroke at your hardened clit “You weren’t shy a second ago when you asked me to play with this pretty pussy, want me to stop?”

He felt you shake your head, a sweet little whine accompanying the motion, as you continued to cling to him; your warm breath, coming out in pants, next to his ear made him slow his pace to one that could barely be considered movement.

“I dunno, it sure seems like you do” 

“N-no!” You mumbled, gripping his shirt tighter; biting your lip to suppress another whine threatening to escape. “Please don’t stop..”

“Then let me see that pretty face, hm,” He asked, tone still mirthful as he watched you slowly come out of your hiding spot “There you are, look at you, huh? All cute and flustered, you like what I’m doing that much?”

You nodded your head, once more, voice squeaking out a ‘yes’ as you felt his fingers resume a faster pace - swirling your bundle of nerves before slipping into your wet heat; your own hand coming down to grasp his forearm over the sudden intensity.

“That feels good, baby? You like my fingers?” Sero hummed, lips grazing your ear as he leaned closer to you, gazing down to watch his fingers go in and out of your drenched hole.

“God yes, Hanta!” You couldn’t help but cry out, throwing your head back, as you felt his fingers curl; stroking that sweet spot within your gummy walls that you made you see stars.

“Yeah you do,” He groaned, feeling your slick drip down his wrist as he repeated the motion “you wanted this, didn’t you? That’s why you wore that cute little skirt, huh?”

Sero watched you nod your head, though the blissed-out look on your face made him question if you even heard what he said as your hips began to wiggle, legs shaking as you neared your release.

“Can feel you twitching around my fingers, pretty girl, you gonna cum for me?” He asked, as his free hand pushed down your squirming hips “Hey, hey, don’t whine! I’ll give you what you want, promise”

His swollen lips brushed against your collarbone, a subtle gesture to prove he meant what he said - that he wasn’t going to tease you or stop you from going over the edge; his thumb twisting up to rub at your clit to help ease you over the edge you were climbing.

“That’s it, cum for me, god you sound so pretty, keep twitching for me.” He groaned, fingers working frantically as your cries grew higher in pitch.

Everything went white for a moment, an end to the mounting pleasure he was giving you, the world was forgotten for a brief moment as you succumbed to the pleasure; your back arched almost painfully as your legs clamped around his wrist; your entire form shaking from the intensity as eyes rolled back into your skull. The only thing that kept you in the realm was his deep voice cooing down at you as you felt your juices run down your thighs and stick to the surface of his leather chair.

“There she is…” He mumbled, lips kissing all over your face and chest to slowly help ease you back down “Slowly, that’s it, you did so good for me…”

“Hanta, s’too much!” You whined, bucking your hips away from his still-moving fingers; ones that were still slowly stroking your soaking cunt; hissing when he finally took them out.

“Sorry, sorry,” He chuckled, hands returning to stroke your thighs and hips as he gazed down at you “You certainly know how to stroke a man’s ego, huh? Never had a girl do that from my touch.”

You groaned one that turned into a giggle, as your hands came up to your face to hide from another wave of heated embarrassment “Well, to be fair, never had a guy touch me like that. Can’t blame a girl for enjoying it!”

“No I can’t, glad you liked it so much, baby” He murmured, pulling your hands from your face to kiss you once more, murmuring sweet nothing to you between each small kiss as his hands wandered again, up and down your body, smiling into the kiss when he felt your hands do the same.

“A-ah!” Sero moaned, unable to stop his hips from bucking to your small hand that started to stroke at the large bulge in his pants; another one choking out, ending in a whimper, when you applied more pressure.

“Can I return the favour?” You asked, voice sounding so saccharine and confident that it made his head spin at the total 180 you just pulled with your demeanor.

“N-no,” He whimpered out, hand grasping at your wrist - just as yours did before - to stop you from continuing your sinful motions.

“Why not?” You whined, the pout you gave almost made him regret his choice, “Wanna make you feel good…”

“I know you do, but I won’t be able to last long if you keep that up” He reasoned, clasping your hands in his to bring them away from his twitching, aching cock.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“God, you’re too much…” He mumbled, head shaking in amusement as he cleared his throat, trying his best not to let you get the best of him as he watched you squirm.

Your pout was still prevalent on your swollen lips as you gazed up at him, calling out to him once more in that saccharine sweet voice “But I wanna make you cum.”

Sero couldn’t help but groan again, head turning away from you as he thought of anything else at that moment - things that made him cringe in his past - to try and stop himself from creaming in his pants like a teenager. With his voice strained, hoarse with effort, as he instructed you to lay back.

You do as you are told, heat in your belly igniting once more when you hear the clinking of his belt unbuckling; bending your legs up, to get betting frictions on your tingling nub, as you waited as patiently as you could for his return.

The chair groaned, squeaking slightly, at the added weight Sero provided, as he situated himself between your legs once more. You gasped, one that turned into a moan, when you felt his cock head tap at your entrance; his hard length sliding up and down your slit - teasing you as he coats himself in your juices.

“Hanta…!” You groan out, hips bucking to try and slip him inside; groaning once more in frustration when you feel his hands pin your hips down once more “Hurry up!”

“So impatient, naughty, naughty, naughty ” He clicks his tongue at you, chuckling at the frustrated glance you cast his way “Just give me a second, don’t wanna hurt you after all”

You huff, brows furrowing further as acquiesced; knowing thing it was for the better to have him take things slow - but the burning in your core was making it difficult for you to have a clear and level head; wanting nothing more to feel him fill you up.

After another agonizing minute, you slowly feel him sink into your heat; feeling his fat cock stretch you out so agonizingly slow that it makes you throw your head back and moan; mouth agape as you feel every inch bury itself deeper into your core.

“God, you’re tight!” Sero hisses, body taut as he holds himself above you as he continued pushing into you “Already milking me, baby, damn!”

You both groan when he finally bottoms out, breathing labored as they mingle together in-between tiny kisses as you both try to adjust; legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to you, as he begins his slowly thrusting into you.

His thrusts were almost teasing with how slowly he was moving, dragging his cock out languidly from your gummy walls before slowly returning back into your warmth - but they were precise, with each thrust hitting every sweet spot you had; making your eyes cross as you fell into the throws of pleasure over his slow lovemaking.

Over time though, Sero could not keep up the unhurried pace; what was once a tactic to ensure that he didn’t cum too early, to properly worship you and your perfect body, was now not enough - his body needed more. His lips attached to yours, kisses muffling the sweet moans that you were making as he slowly picks up his pace; thrusts turning sloppy and hurried, a fair cry from before, as Sero now becomes unable to hold off his own pleasure; frantically trying to chase his release.

The sloppy, wet, noises of your pussy could be heard over your constant moans, over the  sound of his skin slapping against yours, and it was becoming overwhelming - his thumb joining his frenzied hips as he rubbed at your clit; trying desperately to get you up and over that edge before him, to feel your walls flutter and clasp his weeping cock as it did his fingers before he spilled into you.

But he failed, your wanton moans as they called out his name, and the sharp sting of your nails and they dug into his back pushed him too far; quickly pulling out with a choked wail he came; spilling his hot seed all over your thighs and stomach.

“I-I’m sorry” he gasped, trying to regain his breath - body, and cock, still twitching over the intensity of his organism; leaving you for a brief moment to get a clean rag from his equipment table to clean you up.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, voice still raspy and sore, as you watched him methodically clean you up.

“Well, you know, about getting you all messy. And…. yeah…” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders, too embarrassed to look at you or saw the real reason he apologized.

It made you smile, though you did your best to contain the giggles that threaten to pass your lips as you watched him. Sitting up, you pushed the hand that was cleaning you away, pulling him back down into you for a kiss.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind getting messy. Part of the fun, right?” You giggled, nudging your nose with his trying to lighten the mood; effectively making a small smile tug at his lips as he returned your kiss.

“Besides…” you whispered, hands coming down to teasingly stroke his chest “My place isn’t too far from here. If you wanted, you could spend all night making it up to me”

“Aren’t you a naughty girl,” Sero smirked, hands grabbing the meat under your thighs as he picked you up from his chair; moving your legs to wrap around his hips to keep you upright and in place “But, I think my place is closer.”

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 5. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Forgive me; this chapter is absolute shit! Publishing this makes me feel very ashamed and disappointed in myself. I hate this so much, but it's probably the best what I can do right now. I hope I didn't let you down and hope you won't lose your interest for this story because of this chapter. Also, this chapter has only Mingi (finally), Jongho, and the stalker, whoever that might be. I swear the story won't be about Jongho all the time although he's been in a lot of chapters, since he is important at the beginning. I hope I'm not wasting your time with this, and that at least someone will find this enjoyable :,) Thank you for reading!

Word count: 4 641

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“Is this really necessary?” 

“Just take my hand. How do you think the stalker is going to notice we’re in a relationship otherwise?” 

At Jongho’s question, you began to ponder. The stalker would notice anyway that there was something supposedly between you and Jongho, so why did you have to hold hands with him? 

Nonetheless, you grabbed Jongho’s warm hand, intertwining your fingers together. It was supposed to look romantic and make everyone think you were two lovebirds flying on cloud 9, but it looked most likely awkward. That’d work too, you supposed. After all, the first stages of relationships sometimes felt embarrassing. 

“Fake relationship, remember.” 

Jongho scoffed, “Do you think I’d be in a real relationship with you?” 

That hurt. You had been rejected before by romantic and platonic interests, but none of them had talked to you like you were a repulsive, filthy animal looming in the sewers. 

“No...” 

He just glanced at you as you gave your dejected reply. It was clearly not in his interest to make you feel loved, but it was probably better for him to be brutally honest, than fool you into thinking the act of being a couple wasn’t just pretending. 

“I hope the performance won’t be a waste of our time,” Jongho murmured. 

It had been his idea to go together to a Valentine’s Day event the city had arranged. What could be more romantic than holding hands and watching awful music performances by unknown wannabe artists while freezing to death? 

The stage in front of you was decorated with red paper hearts and white balloons in a bad taste, being a shameful insult to art. Maybe it was supposed to get people on festive mood yet it only gave everyone who looked at it a headache. You were already feeling anxious to have so many people around you in the audience, but you had to endure it; Jongho had demanded you to stay with him for your own safety. The moment you’d leave his sight, the stalker could strike.  

Just then, you saw a familiar person step on the stage with overflowing confidence. 

“Is that... Mingi?” you murmured in shock, more to yourself than Jongho. 

The man holding your hand couldn’t answer to you. Jongho was usually so calm and collected, so it amused you greatly to see him, lips parted and eyes wide, trying to make sense out of the sight in front of him. 

“Mingus Dingus in the house! Fix on!” 

A couple people from the crowd cheered at his arrival. The rest of the audience, at least 70 people, were whispering to each other and wondering who Mingi was. 

“Apparently, this poor excuse of a city doesn’t have enough money to use on events anymore.” 

“Yeah. I have no idea who this is. Possibly some homeless man, that they found from the streets and promised to give dinner money to if he performed.” 

You heard a couple men next to you talk poorly about Mingi, which made your heart ache. Mingi didn’t seem like a bad person, completely opposite actually. He was passionate about his music and had both courage and energy to keep doing what he loved. That was admirable. 

Tensing up as the music started playing, you squeezed Jongho’s hand tighter without even noticing. This performance would turn out to be a catastrophe, a total fiasco, and a hit on your already fragile mental health. You couldn’t handle seeing people fail, it just made you want to bury yourself so you would never have to see something like that again. 

But as Mingi opened his mouth and his self-written lyrics started flowing out, you found yourself flabbergasted. Even impressed. 

“Sent it off in the wind, every photo, every piece of my heart...” 

Jongho seemed to listen to Mingi’s performance as well with perked up ears. 

“It was tough for me to see a single letter, so I sent it all away...” 

Mingi’s voice made you feel all kinds of things. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact names for them, but the emotions in his voice and the lyrics hit you deep in the heart. It was something unexplainable. 

You watched the performance and the way Mingi’s eyes shined with flames of passion that could not be put out. It was something that nobody could fake; only people who truly loved what they were doing would be able to captivate like that. It was so vulnerable, like he was opening up to everyone who listened. 

Unfortunately, a lot of people didn’t bother to listen. They were leaving little by little, and by the end of the song, only about 30 people were still listening to what Mingi wanted to express through his music. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave.” 

Before you could control your reactions, you answered Jongho firmly, “No. I want to listen.” 

You would have never dared to speak like that to anyone, let alone to Jongho, but Mingi’s song had woken up both your emotions and loyalty to him as his new fan. 

It went unnoticed by you how Jongho’s expression darkened at your refusal. His grip tightened on your hand but all you cared about in that moment was Mingi. 

As the performance continued, the rest of the audience left as well. It even made you angry. Of course, people had the right to leave if a performance didn’t interest them, but how could they be so deaf to the art Mingi had created? 

It was the most freezing day of February, but you couldn’t care less about your shivering body or the cold wind that almost pushed you down. It was like even the wind didn’t care about Mingi’s songs and wanted to push you away from the stage. The way his performance set the stage on fire warmed your body and soul in the cold. 

At last, the performance ended. Mingi had given his whole soul to it, to reach people’s ears and hearts, but you were the only one whose heart he had successfully won over. 

Only two people, you and Jongho, had stayed the whole time. As the last chords of the song played, you stared at Mingi in awe, head empty and heart full. He looked at the audience he had left, and despite the lack of people, bowed deep and respectfully. He was thankful that he hadn’t been left completely alone, to perform for the emptiness. 

“Fix off.” 

Jongho tried to hold onto your hand tightly, but you ripped it away from his grip to applaud Mingi. Your lonely yet sincere claps reached Mingi’s ears, and he casted a smile for you. Then he left the stage. 

“Y/N, don’t-” 

You didn’t care about Jongho’s demand. Only thing you needed to do now was to run to Mingi and tell him how much his performance meant for you. How amazing he was. How he had managed to touch your heart. Unlike usually, you weren’t interested in the possibility of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hurried steps reached Mingi fast, although the headwind was slightly slowing you down. He was facing another direction, head turned downwards. 

“Mingi! Your performance was amazing! I never could have guessed you were that talented,” you spoke, sounding a bit too excited. 

Hopefully Mingi wouldn’t think of you as some deranged fan. 

But you hadn’t expected to see tears on his face as he turned around to look into your eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me. I know no-one liked it.” 

Speechless, you looked at Mingi’s heartbreaking expression. Warm tears were glistening in his eyes and streaming down his face. Lips pressed in a tight line, he looked somehow offended at your comment, trying to hold onto his dignity. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I have no talent.” 

You frowned at Mingi’s words, “Do you think I would have stayed here and rushed to compliment you, if I hadn’t liked your performance?” 

Jongho had walked up to you silently and was standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his jacket. The look on his face directed at you was even colder than the air, as he listened you praise Mingi. 

“I would have left with the other people if your performance hadn’t been good.” 

At your words, even more tears welled up in Mingi’s eyes. He looked away from you, probably feeling embarrassed to show such vulnerability in front of you and Jongho. 

“I just want you to know that your lyrics, songs and voice impressed me. They made me feel... things,” you rambled on before starting to realize you were way too passionate. 

A hopeful expression crossed Mingi’s face, before disappearing like he was afraid to get his hopes up and heart broken, “What kind of things?” 

You were getting shy under Mingi and Jongho’s eyes. It was too late to act coy now; you had already revealed your overwhelming emotions Mingi’s songs had managed to bring up to the surface. 

On top of everything, you could relate to him. He worked so hard to be seen and appreciated, but got only ridiculing snorts and ignorance as a response. Some people were born to be insignificant in others’ eyes while the rest were born lucky to be acknowledged. To be seen wasn’t something to take for granted. 

“I could relate to your songs. The emotions you showed in your performance uncovered something in me that I have tried to forget.” 

It was almost a magical moment to see Mingi’s eyes sparkle. Could have been the tears that made it look like his eyes shined, but there was more to it. All of his dreams had been accomplished when he heard that his songs finally managed to reach someone’s ears. That he had been seen at last. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I will never forget what you said!” Mingi suddenly grabbed both of your hands in his, holding tightly to them like you were his salvation. 

“That’s enough,” Jongho ripped your hands forcefully out of the taller man’s grip. 

Sure, Jongho had to act like you were a couple, but was it really fair to treat Mingi like that? You had already lost your confidence that had emerged from nowhere before, so you had no courage to say anything. You had to remember, Jongho was still a man and much stronger than you; it would be hard to fight back if he decided he had had enough of your attitude. 

“I can hold her hands if I want to. What are you, her boyfriend?” 

��In fact, I am. So, keep your hands to yourself,” Jongho warned Mingi. 

Mingi looked suddenly devastated, which surprised you. His mouth was agape, trying to say something. He didn’t manage to let anything past his lips other than his silent breathing. He was left behind as Jongho led you away. 

Later on, you arrived at a park. To your luck, the park still had people wandering around although the sky was already turning dark. Although Jongho had promised to protect you, you didn’t want to be left alone with any man after the sun had set. String lights set to hang from the leafless trees lit up your way as you walked hand in hand with him. 

“Look at that! An ice rink!” you gasped, pointing at an ice rink in the park, not being able to hide your excitement. You hadn’t been ice skating since forever. 

Jongho gave you a judging side-eye, “Too expensive. Let’s go drink hot chocolate.” 

You had no courage to fight back his idea, so you let him lead you to a stall selling all kinds of drinks and treats. To be honest, you felt like this was actually romantic and fit the Valentine’s Day although you were spending it with a fake boyfriend. With a man who had implied he would never date you. 

“Two hot chocolates. Sizes small and large,” Jongho said to the man keeping the stall. 

Well honestly, he was more like a boy. He looked the age of 17 and extremely bored. You couldn’t blame him since he had been holding the stall probably for hours already, trying to earn some pathetic amount of pocket money. 

You dug for your wallet, prepared to pay for the small sized drink, since Jongho most likely had ordered the large one for himself. He could have at least asked which size you wanted; the small one would not be enough to quench your thirst. 

“I’ll pay,” Jongho said and pushed a carton mug full of hot chocolate into your hands. 

The fact that he promised to pay surprised you already, but you noticed that the mug he had given you was the size large. 

“Thank you...” you mumbled, looking up in Jongho’s eyes. 

His blank stare made you uncomfortable. Why did he never smile at you? It wasn’t very convincing to never crack a smile at you, when you were supposed to act like a couple in love. 

You two found a bench to sit on under a tree. It was a beautiful spot, the perfect place for you to sit next to each other, huddle for warmth and share tender kisses – that was if you two had been actually dating. There was just one problem: the bench was covered in thick layer of snow after last night’s storm. 

“Are you really suggesting this spot? I’d look like I had wet myself after sitting on that.” 

“You can sit on my lap. That way your ass won’t get wet.” 

Jongho’s proposal made your eyes widen. He was truly shameless. 

And finally, it happened. He smiled at you – although it was a mischievous one, it was the first smile you had ever seen on his face. The emotionless man was forgotten as you watched how his cheeks, slightly red because of the cold air, rounded out and made him look like a teddy bear. 

“You’re always so closed off, trying to hide your emotions,” Jongho said. 

Look who’s talking. He wasn’t exactly the most open person in the world either. 

“I’m not closed off. Both you and Mingi saw how emotional I got over his songs.” 

Ever so slightly, Jongho’s expression darkened. His smile was long gone and he sighed in frustration. 

“I’m musical too, you know? I may not rap as well as Mingi but I can sing.” 

“Really? Prove it,” you challenged him. 

“No. You don’t deserve to hear my singing,” Jongho took a sip of his drink. 

“Fine. Then I’ll assume Mingi is better.” 

It was a risky game to play with Jongho. His reaction could be anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself before teasing him. You were getting way too comfortable. You knew it was dangerous, but you had been craving to have a friend for so long. Now that someone was actually willingly wasting their time on you, it felt like a chance to a new start. 

“I’ll sing for you one day but first, I want to give you something.” 

You raised a brow at Jongho’s statement, and your heartbeat quickened as he pulled something out of his bag. 

Could it be a Valentine’s Day gift? Maybe a flower or a heart-shaped chocolate box? 

But it had been a mistake to let your guard slightly down around Jongho. He proved to you right at that moment that he shouldn’t have been trusted. That you should have run away and hid from him when you had the chance. 

The object in his hand was unrecognizable in the dark at first. You could only see the gleam of the yard lights reflected on the object, making you finally realize what it was. 

Jongho tossed his hot chocolate cup away, symbolizing how all of his sweet gestures had been a skillful play thrown away as well, just like your whole relationship. Now his other hand was completely free to use, while the other one held a pocket knife. 

You wanted to scream or try to convince him to spare your life, but you were speechless. Only thing you managed to do was take a few, shaky steps away from him, the monster in front of you. 

He didn’t let you get further away as he followed you with a gleam in his eyes that screamed insanity. 

“Do you fear death or me?” Jongho asked calmy. 

You glanced at the park. It was like everyone had suddenly disappeared. There was no savior for you if Jongho attacked. You would lose your life alone in the darkness before anyone could have come to your rescue. 

“A-Aren’t they the same thing?” 

Jongho shook his head with a chuckle, “Death sets you free. I will never do that.” 

His words rang in your ears for a split second before you dashed. Time was running out. 

“Y/N! Stop!” 

You didn’t even hear Jongho’s shout. No matter how loud he could have screamed at you, there was no chance you’d stop. You had to run out of the park and reach other people before Jongho could catch you and brutally pierce and cut your body, until you were unrecognizable to the police. Maybe even Yunho would be the one to find you. Yunho who wasn’t the stalker despite all your baseless suspicions. 

But one of the worst things, that was possible in that moment, happened. The ground under your feet was on ice and betrayed you ultimately. Your heart almost stopped as you lost your balance. 

Your cry of pain echoed in the park as your head smashed onto the ground, although your back had received the worst impact of falling on ice. It hurt like hell, but even in all your suffering, you couldn’t think of anything else than about the fact that this was the end. You had tried to trust other people and this was the result. In your intense pain and on the brink of unconsciousness, you didn’t even notice as Jongho got on his knees next to you on the ground. 

Tears ran down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even beg for your life. It was futile. 

Last thing your mind registered before fainting was Jongho’s warm hand petting your head. 

It felt like you had been unconscious for eternity when in reality it had been only 20 minutes or so. When you finally opened your eyes, you found your surroundings familiar. The person next to you was familiar as well. 

“You fainted.” 

No words left your lips, but your eyes told everything. You were terrified and confused. 

“I brought you here after you lost your consciousness.” 

You glanced at the room. It was your own apartment, everything in their own places, but it still seemed so wrong and unsafe, because of the man in front of you. The couch you found comfortable every other day, felt way too stiff in that moment, making the pain in your back worse. 

“That doesn’t explain why I’m alive. What do you want from me?” you managed to utter out, but the wavering in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

Jongho turned his face away with a guilty look. It was clear he regretted something. 

“It was all just a really bad joke. I didn’t mean to scare you that much.” 

The mix of anger and relief felt odd; you didn’t know whether to scream at him or cry in happiness that you didn’t get murdered. But you were too scared of him to show any reactions. Even if it had been just a joke, only a deranged person would scare others like that for their own entertainment. 

That’s why you forced yourself to forgive him. 

“...I forgive you” you gritted through your teeth. 

“I didn’t apologize though.” 

Your anger only flared up at Jongho’s arrogant response. First, he had seemed guilty for scaring you to death, but any ounce of regret you thought he had, was out of the window. Soon, Jongho would be out of the window as well; you didn’t want to see his remorseless face at that moment. 

“Get out of my house.” 

You had turned to look away from him, because you were afraid, you’d lash out at him. 

Jongho looked even slightly hurt at your words. The frown on his face was an indication of his growing agitation and refusal to leave that easily. 

“Do you want me to say sorry then?” 

“No,” you murmured, “It’s too late for that.” 

“Exactly. And I’m not sorry anyways,” Jongho scoffed, “I had to see how you’d react if the stalker was about to kill you. Think of it as practice. It was for your own good.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you tried to stay calm. It could be dangerous to anger the man even more, although you were the only one who had the right to be angry at that moment. And God, you were furious. 

“For my own good? I got a concussion and nearly broke my back!” 

“If you don’t appreciate me looking out for you, we can end this fake relationship.” 

Looking out for you? You couldn’t believe the audacity that man had. 

“Then let’s end this.” 

Jongho seemed to be stunned by your words – as stunned as a man that stoic and cold could be. You even felt a sense of glee at the tiny look of panic on his face. 

“No. I wasn’t serious. I just felt irritated because you don’t see how I want to protect you.” 

But you didn’t fall for that. You had no intention to be a victim of his manipulation. 

As you attempted to stand up from the couch, you whimpered in agony. The pain on your back was unbearable, but you were more concerned about the piercing headache, feeling like your head was being squished by a hydraulic press. 

“Let me-” Jongho started, getting up and trying to help you. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You stepped away from him, feeling afraid once again. Could you be blamed for that, when just a half an hour ago you feared for your life because of that man? Even though it had been supposedly a joke, you couldn’t shake off the sense of panic at Jongho walking closer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Get out,” you sighed, “Please.” 

The bright lights in your apartment hurt your head even more, and you barely stayed on your feet. Although your eyes were getting blurry, you managed to see Jongho’s sad face and him walking towards your front door. 

The apartment was silent as you sat down again, rubbing your temples and trying to ease the pain. The heavy tension hadn’t left although Jongho had. You didn’t know how to meet him again at the therapy session in a few days. 

That Valentine’s Day had seemed successful at first, and you had enjoyed Mingi’s performance despite the heartbreak you felt at seeing his anguish. Even conversing with Jongho had been nice until his poor attempt of a joke. What was supposed to be a day of friendship and romance – even fake kind – ended up in being horrifying. 

You really needed rest, some way to forget the headache for a while, so you fell asleep on the couch. Maybe the dizziness and Jongho’s “joke” would be just distant memories after a good nap, although you doubted that you’d ever forget Jongho’s face as he had creeped closer to you at the park.  

It might have been 30 minutes or so when the sound of a doorbell woke you up. If it was Jongho, you wouldn’t even open the door, not prepared to hear his excuses. 

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself to the door, wincing in pain every step you took. One look from the peephole revealed, that instead of Jongho, there was a man with flowers. He looked serious and exhausted but his silly little cap made him look less scary. 

“Flowers for miss Y/N L/N,” the man forced a smile on his face as you opened the door. 

Your heart fluttered. Someone had remembered you and sent you flowers. It could have been your family who sent the beautiful, bright yellow roses, since they wanted to remind you that they loved you despite all of the things they had done to you. 

Or maybe it could have been from the stalker. 

Nonetheless, you had to accept the roses, no matter how much their thorns could hurt you. They could prickle you with longing or draw blood from your fingers with promises of terror, but your curiosity got the best of you. 

You set the roses down on your dinner table when you noticed that they had a little letter tied to them with a pink ribbon. 

“Your pathetic boyfriend didn’t even give you a gift. Look what I brought.” 

Your blood ran cold. It was no doubt of who had sent you this. Still, you wanted to believe it could have been Mingi instead, even though he didn’t even know where you lived. Anything but the indisputable truth that the sender was indeed the stalker. 

But it wasn’t the end of your shock. You wanted to cry when you noticed another thing as well – a pink envelope that had come with the rose, inviting you to open it. There were heart stickers on it, one of them being a shiny teddy bear holding a heart. The envelope wanted to cast a spell on you and make you so scared yet curious, that you couldn’t stop yourself from seeing what it contained. 

And it definitely succeeded in that, although you tried your best to ignore it, to leave it unopened for the sake of your own sanity. 

Seven pieces of paper were revealed to be inside of it. 

You hated these envelopes so much. You despised the drawings, pictures and letters you had to see because you were just too curious to stay in blissful ignorance. 

Six out of seven of the pieces of paper had drawings on them. They were drawings of parts of a human body. Two pieces of arms, two of legs, one torso and one head. It had been clearly one whole drawing, one whole body of a woman, before having been cut into six pieces. The head even had a pout on it and hair similarly styled as yours. 

Confused about the drawing, you prepped yourself to take a look at the 7th piece of paper. The drawing was definitely a threat, there was no doubt of that, but you craved to understand it deeper. Although the whole thing made you feel nauseous, you needed to know what kind of and level of peril you were in – and to do that, you had to bite the bullet. 

There were words on the paper, written by a hand, whose writing style you recognized. 

“I’ll cut off your arms if you try to fight back,” the first sentence said. 

“I’ll cut off your legs if you try to escape,” the second sentence informed. 

“I’ll cut off your head if your eyes wander on or lips kiss someone else.” 

After you had read the final threat on the paper, you leaned on your chair, everything seemed to have slowed down. Your heartbeat was lazy and quiet, not overwhelmingly loud like in other moments of fear like this. It was so silent both in your head and the apartment, except for the rustling somewhere close. Right now, you needed Jongho. You didn’t have anyone else; only he could help, protect, and save you. He was the only person that wanted to hear your cries and see what he could do to stop you from hurting. Cursing yourself for kicking him out of your apartment, you wondered if he’d even agree to help you anymore. Maybe he’d still hug you and find the stalker to beat him up, and maybe, hopefully, he’d know where the quiet, almost inconspicuous, rustling noise in your apartment was coming from. 

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<- Chapter 4.

Chapter 6. ->

Masterlist

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Taglist: @devilzliaison

[thepenultimateword]

Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

Old dog, new tricks - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Looking for someone to give you a quote on a stolen painting, you find yourself reaching out to a middle-man called Dirtyhands or the Bastard of the Barrel. Little do you know, you've met him before. A long, long time ago...

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It's pouring in Ketterdam. Black clouds cover the sky, hanging so low it looks like the bell towers scrape them. Thunder rolls in the distance. Some say that rain is refreshing, that it cleanses body, mind and soul. Perhaps it does but not in Ketterdam - the rainwater only leaves pedestrians feeling dirtier as though the coal-coloured clouds tainted it. The air begins to smell in an odd way as if the water washes something foul before falling to the cobbled streets; something not quite alive that can’t seem to die. But perhaps those somber words are true and thunderstorms truly do cleanse. In that case, it isn’t some largely unknown flesh rotting away but the sins of the city and its people washing the streets before falling down the drain like many things do in Ketterdam.

Those who can, flee the streets into the warm confines of their homes. Hats, umbrellas, even newspapers - anything just to keep the dirty water out of their faces. Some of them would mutter a swear word between pants and grunts as they made haste to the nearest shelter. Those who can’t, however, do not seem any grumpier than they usually do. For them, it’s just another day of soaking in the black rainwater stained with the unspoken secrets of the citizens. Wrapping worn-out coats tighter around their famished bodies, they cuddle the cold, stone walls a little closer before letting out a tired sigh. 

On days like this, bars and pubs earn their most delicious coin. If someone’s home is too far, a brewery is a great place to be with a good drink, a good game and tolerable food. Among the rather large group of workers, traders and unfortunate pedestrians is the most curious stranger. She stops for a moment to look above the heads, at the crow cast from iron hanging above the entrance. Dressed in a foundry worker's clothes and a patchy coat, she fits the landscape of Ketterdam like a glove. Soon, the stranger followers the other patrons inside.

Thunderstorm or not, the bar looks rather cosy and fashionable, considering its location and clientele. The standard was high enough to make the working class feel good about themselves instead of inadequate.

You squeeze through invigorated, already quite drunk, groups of people who have become friends the moment they accidentally sat at the same table. Some bump into you but they never apologize - hard to say where they can’t or won’t. Others, the sober and brighter ones, notice their pouches gone after some time when they go to make another bet. Furious, they throw their hands at the first miser their accusatory finger points to. Despite that, they do not see you, even if they do look. To all those poor bastards gambling and drinking their life away, you're nothing beyond a mirage dancing in the corner of their eye; a fleeting thought that you saw something but can't quite articulate the nature of the illusion. And just like the bar patrons, you, too, quickly dismiss the mare as a trick of the imagination. Just as soon as the thought of the phantom disappears, its place is taken by severely mundane things: a pint of beer, a frivolous smile of a scam artist, a suspiciously good streak of a cocky man.

By the bar sits a man with a top hat at his side. While all the other workers are busy losing their money, that one simply sits there with his back turned to the rest of the room. A bottom-up, empty glass is placed beside his hand. The man is waiting.

Sitting down on the stool next to him, you don’t let your eyes leave the prize. "You look like you've been around, good sir.”  The stranger turns to look at you. A spark of amusement glistens in his eyes. His brow lifts ever so slightly, beckoning you to continue. “Tell me, where can I find a man called Bastard of the Barrel?"

He turns his whole body towards you, leaning his arm on the bar counter. "Boss is pretty busy these days, you know? Might not have the time or desire to see you."

You give him a flustered smile, trying to appear a little too stupid to be cunning. "I won't take too much of his time,” you reassure him quickly. “If you could please pass the message to him that I have a painting from the Greaves' collection. I'm looking for someone who can give me a quote."

"That Greaves' collection?” he repeats. His face momentarily lights up as he surely sees right through your facade. “I thought it was impenetrable."

"They say that about every prison, don't they? And yet the world is as it is."

The man stares at you for a moment, his fingers frantically tapping the counter. Clearly, you’ve got someone’s interest. But will it be enough? 

"Quote or not, I think he'll be interested in this. Come on."

Without waiting for your response, he takes his top hat and leaves, walking past you towards a small staircase in the corner of the bar. You quickly follow in his footsteps, never getting too far from the man - you’re to appear as nothing more but his shadow.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a streak of darkness move like a plant’s leaf swaying gently when there is no breeze. Curious, you follow the disturbance to what seems to be its source - a young woman dressed in dark robes. Leaning against a wall, in the corner where the yellow light doesn’t quite reach where it should, she’s impossible to notice to anyone who doesn’t know what to look for. In that spare moment, she notices you too.

Having walked up the stairs, your guide knocks thrice on the door but doesn’t wait for an answer before opening them. There, in the small office littered with papers, you notice a face so familiar and yet strange you begin to question your own sanity. Could it be…? 

It’s like staring at a winter landscape during a toasty, summer day - you know the fields in front of you are the same but at the same time, they will never be more different. His face is more serious than you remembered. Strong, sharp features accompany his light eyes to create a truly chilling demeanour of a seasoned man. Despite undoubtedly looking like a handsome, young man, a spectre of a boy he used to be lingers beneath his skin.

Feeling lost and shocked, you frantically tear the hood off your head. "Kaz?” you’re not sure whether you’re asking him or yourself. “Kaz Brekker?!"

His eyes widen momentarily. Before he knows it, Kaz jumps to his feet, having to lean against the desk because of his leg. He doesn’t seem any less surprised, although he does appear to be better at hiding it - at least on his face. "You sly old fox,” he says in a low voice. Something akin to a smirk curved a corner of his lips upwards. “You just won't die, will you?"

You can’t help but scoff. After all those years of wondering whether he’s even alive, you find him in a complete accident. "As much as I'd love to see you crying over me, I like being a nuisance a bit more."

"You know each other?" the man, whose name you still do not know, vaguely points between you and Kaz.

To your mutual, utmost surprise, the two of you answer simultaneously: "We used to." The shock seems to drown out the hint of nostalgia and regret in your voices.

“Right…” he nods slowly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

And before you know it, the door shuts and it’s just you and him. On one hand, again, but on the other - for the very first time. The words used to dance in a merry-go-round inside your head. Painful, yet truthful. Yes, you used to know Kaz like no one else. It sounds, you realize, as though the last time you had met, it was a different world, a different lifetime. To some degree, it’s true.

“What are you doing in here?” Kaz asks curtly. You can’t help but find his tone angry, almost accusatory. A strand of his hair falls on his face.

Unwilling to face the responsibility of years of silence, you settle for half-hearted jokes. “Your office or Ketterdam in general?”

“Both, preferably.”

Has he always been this incandescent or has longing simply white-washed him in your memories?

“Same as you it seems - work,” you say with a shrug. For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, unsure what to make of this unforeseen reunion. Then, you let out a tired sigh. If you have changed as little as you think so, he can definitely see right through you. “I won’t lie to you, Kaz, this isn’t a social call. I come here in business. I stole a canvas from Jurgen Greaves’ private collection and I’m looking for someone who can give me a quote.”

Kaz clenches his jaw. His blue eyes stare into you, maybe through you, as he clearly ponders something. Before continuing, he sits down. “I know an art dealer who might be interested. But first, you’re going to tell me everything.” Do not be mistaken - it’s an order, not a request. Truthfully, he got out of the habit of asking and pleading.

"It's a long story and a lot less interesting than I'd like to admit."

"We've all night,” he states. Not letting his gaze falter, Kaz gestures to the chair across from him. He still doesn’t take no for an answer.

He’s absolutely furious but only partially at you. It’s mostly his lack of understanding that gets on his nerves - the girl he remembered, a skilled and beautiful woman now, could have anything she wanted if she only asked. So why would you choose this path? With pearls and servants within arms reach, what are you doing in the Barrel, among murderers and liars? The surname of Greaves' resounds in his head, only fuelling his frustration: not only did Ketterdam dare to taint you, but you've also made good friends with that black stain of filth.

His chest clenches and Kaz feels disgusted for a moment. The parasite of corruption has nested under your skin, spewing its venom into your veins.

“Oh, don’t make me blush.” Although your dismissal is nothing beyond a jest, you still sit in the appointed chair. Maybe you want answers too, after all.

Still staring at you with that stern, cold gaze of his, Kaz sits back in his chair, clearly unwilling to end this conversation anytime soon. 

[sailorangelwrites]

Alastor x Overlord!Reader One-Shot - I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

Synopsis: Being an overlord is boring, but boredom is nothing new for you. You never expected that a meeting of the overlords, of all things, would bring excitement, danger and passion to you in the form of the radio demon...

Notes: SFW, mentions of violence but nothing too explicit, non-gendered reader, apathetic reader, the reader can stand up for themself

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I Won't Play your Games, Radio Man

After everything that had happened in the land of the living, you had no hope of reaching heaven. You couldn't remember the last time you had much hope for anything, though.

Looking at your crimson surroundings, you couldn't help but wonder what your afterlife had in store for you. Hell looked like a regular human city, just a lot more... gory and shameless. But you could handle the gore, and the shamelessness was easy enough to ignore, so you decided to explore. What took some getting used to were the odd-looking residents. Souls were... peculiar looking things, you discovered.

There was no point in dwelling on the surface-level matters, you decided. You needed a weapon.

You yearned for the steady, cool weight of a knife in your hand, the same way an artist yearned for pigment, the same way a writer yearned to give their words form. There were many tools to your trade, but a knife would be the simplest to acquire, with the added benefit of easy concealment.

As you thought about holding a knife in your hand, you felt a buzzing beneath your skin. Power. You could identify it through instinct alone. In your hand appeared a knife - black, made from a material you couldn't place.

A convenient power. One that you could get used to.

It didn't take much for you to fall back into the swing of things. You met a man in a bar. A gang of imps had stolen money from him. You tracked them down, retrieved the money, and handed the gentleman the gang leader's horns for good measure.

Word got out. You never had a shortage of customers. And once you had gotten your hands on some angelic steel, things could only escalate.

Business got a lot messier, but for every soul laid to permanent rest your notoriety grew. Sometimes, on nights where you had little to do yet so much emptiness inside, you would walk into the neverending turf wars and start slicing through the participants. Sinners would beg and offer their souls to you on a silver platter.

Who were you to decline their kind offers?

Overlord. That was what they started to call you. You should have felt accomplished, but you didn't. You didn't feel anything at all.

When was the last time you had felt anything?

You truly couldn't remember. In between the mindless slaughter, the exchange of souls and goods, you found yourself wondering if you would ever feel anything even remotely human.

One day, a small demon held out an envelope to you. The thing was sweating bullets, so you took the letter quickly, waving it away. As you opened it with a careful claw, the lesser demon scampered away in a pathetic display. Killing it might have been a kindness - it clearly wasn't cut out for the harsh environment it had condemned itself to.

However, you let it leave, and focused on the letter. It was inviting you to an overlords' meeting.

You went, if only to alleviate some of the boredom you had been suffering through.

The other overlords eyed you with what could only be described as hunger.

Could they overpower you? Could they push you out from the top? Could they subjugate you and steal away your infamy?

You kept your head high and refused to meet their discerning gazes.

"Greetings, Hell's sovereign overlords..." Carmilla began, before launching into the briefing.

Extermination statistics, turf wars, troublemakers to be dealt with...

All so very boring. You half listened and chose to observe your peers.

Each one was stranger than whoever was sitting next to them, in their own right. Their attentions were no longer focused on you. They had drawn their conclusions, which were, quite frankly, none of your business.

However, one demon continued to stare at you. Burning red eyes, thin grey skin, and a jagged smile that looked like it hurt. You met his gaze and saw the smile deepen.

Challenging. Amused. Hungry.

It was purely predatory. Something about that thrilled you - you felt it in your stomach, the conflicting urges to run and to lunge at him.

Carmilla finished up the meeting. Everyone was standing up and walking away. You glanced away from the man and to the door.

That was a mistake.

When you looked back his seat was empty.

"Why hello there, my esteemed colleague! I have heard a great many things about you down the old grapevine, so I am positively thrilled to have a chance to meet you in the flesh!"

His voice was heavily filtered, and even when he spoke he somehow managed to maintain that sharp, menacing smile. And somehow, he was behind you. How had he managed that? You had only looked away for a split second, you hadn't even heard him move.

You stood up from your chair and took a step back from him. "I haven't heard about you," you responded, keeping your tone neutral.

The overlord's expression twitched and a pop of static filled the air. Any trace of irritation was wiped away as he took a step toward you, coming far too close for comfort. "Is that so? Such a pity. There isn't a cultured demon in all of Hell who hasn't heard of the radio demon."

"Then I must not be very cultured," you said.

A laugh track roared as the 'radio demon' put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn't help the low growl that escaped you at the contact. His eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't comment on the sound.

"Fortunately there are remedies for such an affliction," he told you, walking you out of the room. You felt trapped but didn't dare to lash out. A part of you wanted to see where the interaction would go - to get a glimpse into the mind of the other overlord.

His face turned towards yours, uncanny grin wide and far too close as he said, "Those who are uncultured are simply out of tune with the arts. Perhaps a tour of my radio station is in order, hm? What do you say?"

A trap.

"I may be uncultured," you started, "but I know that it's frowned upon to go off with strange men."

"It would be a shame to incur frowns," the man said with a hum. "Oh well, another time! That certainly changes things... Oh well, you will find that I can be quite adaptable."

"How admirable," you deadpanned.

"Aren't I just?"

He led you into the elevator, still far too close, but now there was nowhere to run.

You could summon a blade or a gun, but you knew that wasn't a good idea. The only tool you could safely use were your words, but even that could go south. Still, you decided to be blunt and say, "If there's something you need, just come out with it."

"To the point, I see," he said with a chuckle. "Very well. I wanted to propose a game, of sorts."

"I have little time for games," you said, though the possibilities began to run wild through your mind.

Something fun. Something to break up the boredom. A chance to beat this smarmy, smiling overlord.

"You ought to make time for games, my friend. This afterlife of ours can get terribly boring without some form of sport... Though I can see the novelty has already worn off for you. You really should smile more, my dear!"

"The novelty was never there to begin with," you answered truthfully.

"Such a shame! Yes, indeed, I must find a way to bring some passion to your weary soul!"

The elevator reached its destination, opening to a back alley. You stepped out before the man could continue puppeteering you.

This was your chance to get away. But this had been the first interesting interaction you'd had in a while...

"What sort of game did you have in mind?"

A muffled crowd cheered as the man flew over to you, invading your personal space once more. "Something right up your alley! A battle of wit, strength, and charisma!"

"That doesn't sound like something-"

"Whichever one of us can secure the most deals within a day will be the victor," he said, steamrolling over your words.

"What are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will be in eternal service to me." As he said that, he seemed to glow with feral power, his shadow growing and giving you a wicked grin. "And if you win... You will receive three favours from me. Does that sound fair?"

"No. Not even a little bit. I was interested before, but it's clear that the game is stacked in your favour."

The overlord's eyes darkened, sending a delightful pang of fear through your entire being.

"I do not appreciate the implications of that. To think that I would ever 'stack' a game? Ha, it's ludicrous, preposterous, and utterly - utterly - ridiculous!"

"Am I supposed to just believe you?" you snapped. "You make weird eyes at me, get real close, start talking about games where I'll be in 'eternal service' to you... And I'm supposed to think that you're - what? - chivalrous deep down? Trustworthy? Assume that favours from you are actually worth something? Do I look that stupid to you?"

The radio demon blinked. "Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

You folded your arms. The stance would come off as defensive, but you didn't need your arms to put up a fight, not with your particular powers. "Do you want me to blindly believe you?"

"No, of course not! I see you as... a kindred spirit, in a sense. Such violence within you, a head for business, yet bogged down by apathy... If a game is not to your tastes, then how about a mutually beneficial partnership?"

There was something in his eyes that looked almost proud. Satisfied, maybe. It was strange. He really was an expressive creature, but you could tell there were so many thoughts in his head that weren't fully reaching his features.

You had a feeling that he would be one hell of a poker player.

"'Mutually beneficial partnership'? Is that how people from your era asked each other out or something?"

"Hah! You are a funny one..."

That... wasn't a no. Huh.

"Wait, are you actually-"

"Ah, how unfortunate, but it seems I must be running along now. It's disheartening that we couldn't come to an agreement of any sort, but in the future I hope we can see eye to eye. I will be in contact with you soon, as I did enjoy this little chat!"

You found yourself smiling - genuinely smiling - for the first time in what felt like forever.

"And what's the actual name of the gentlemen I should be waiting for?" you asked.

"How rude of me, it seems I've missed a trick or two! The one you will be awaiting is Alastor. I hear he's quite the troublemaker, though."

"At least you've heard of him," you said, delighting in the way his eye left twitched.

"A funny one indeed," Alastor concluded before vanishing in a smog. The last thing you saw was his shadow grinning at you with a wink.

You stayed there for a moment, basking in the unfamiliar warmth filling your chest. It was, without a doubt, a feeling you could get used to.

(Thanks for reading - I have requests open, so if you want to see anything specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do!)

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Just finished grinding Assassin's Creed Mirage! WOOHOO! ୧⁠(⁠ ⁠ಠ⁠ ⁠Д⁠ ⁠ಠ⁠ ⁠)⁠୨

I think it's a deffo wonderful game and a refreshment after the RPG trilogy (it does have RPG elements to it, but still), and it also have some things that are lacking. It reminds me of the good 'ol days, but deffo not on par with the good 'ol days.

Here're some of my thoughts and reviews!

🕌 Sleepy's Assassin's Creed Mirage Review 🗡️

(Spoiler Warning ⚠️ Including the ending ⚠️)

Disclaimer, this is just my personal opinion. You may agree and disagree. I’m just gonna talk a lot because I LOVE Assassin’s Creed with all my heart. Here goes.

VISUALS

(+) Basim Ibn Ishaq, the handsome man that you are… HOLY SHIT (yes I’m adding him as the first plus point of this game what of it). Man's fine AF. 

(+) Baghdad’s really beautiful, nuff said. The color palette is PERFECT - displays the warmth of the atmosphere really well, but also just enough greens and many starking hues of flowers. 

(+) The waters and environment textures are CRISPY.  The detailed patterns on the clothes, the engravings and the state of the arts is really cool. I haven’t really looked a lot into the 800’ Baghdad arts, but I can see lots of good details and art styles. SHOUT OUT TO THE ARTISTS!!

GAMEPLAY - Now here’s what I have a lot to comment on.

(+) Stealth -> I think they did quite good with the stealth. One of the many complaints that I saw on the previous RPG trilogy games was the fact that the main characters/players had no reason to be stealthy, because they can just barge in and defeat the enemies easily. Ubi has marketed the game to be more stealth focused and intentionally made Basim a less of a fighter (make sense, since he came from a thief background, unlike Bayek, Kassandra, and Eivor who are actual trained warriors since they’re kids). However, this brings me to the first lacking point.

(-) Combat -> The combat feels janky. I feel like I’m really fucked up in combat situations if I don’t upgrade my sword and dagger. Like I get it, Basim is not meant to be much of a fighter, but in the beginning parts (or… even the middle parts of the game, let’s be real), I feel like combat is HELL. I forgot the Youtuber who said it, but he said something along the lines of “I’m an assassin, I want to feel like an assassin and want to feel like a badass and can take down many enemies with ease.” And that actually rings true with me. When I’m in combat and countless soldiers are fighting or following me (and I don’t have the smoke bomb with the forgetting effect), I’m most certainly FUCKED. 

(+) The fighting style is cool though, it's stylish and the finishing moves are sick af. It could deffo use some work. 

(-+) Parkour/Movements - It’s alright. It’s most certainly better than the previous RPG trilogy, but it’s definitely not Unity or Syndicate. Sometimes Basim can do something that I didn’t want and I’ve lost count on how many times I got caught and died just from a mis-movement. I literally don’t understand why they don’t use the Unity parkours and combat styles. Unity’s parkour is smooth, swift, and stylish. It feels GOOD. 

(+) Stealing - I’m a loot goblin in games, and believe me, I think I’ve spent like hours just stealing from the entire population of Baghdad that by the end of the game I’m probably richer than the Taxmaster and the whole entire Abbasid Caliphate. It’s fun, it’s easy, but it can sometimes be hard enough to miss. I just hope there’s more variety/difficulty in the stealings in different places – Like maybe in the Round City the diamond thingy is much smaller, or in like for stealing merchants (who has particular fashion/silhouette or have wallets/pouches with different colors) can be harder to steal from but have more rewards and money. 

(-+) Map - OKAY. I love the fact that Mirage has a significantly smaller map than that of Odyssey and Valhalla. It’s focused and it’s much more centered. HOWEVER. For a game this caliber, and with this good of a graphic? It’s much too small and it’s too divided between two parts. Hear me out – The graphics are really cool, but I feel like the map is too divided between – either a densely populated city, or just barren lands of desert. I think the map could be much much bigger with much more collectibles and much more variety in the terrains. Like, for example in Black Flag (The S tier game. Argue with a wall), there’re more than one major city, while in Mirage the map is so very centered (Yes I get it it’s the Round City), but I’d love it if there’s another major city that we can travel to, like Damascus, for instace. + I love the Tales of Baghdad. MORE TALES OF BAGHDAD PLEASE. 

STORY - nOW THIS… I never liked the stories post - Origins and here's why : 

(-) LET 👏 THE ACTORS 👏 DO 👏 MOTION 👏 CAPTURE 👏 - My biggest complaint for the RPG game styles is always about the facial and motion animation. The cutscenes feel DEAD. The eyes are DEAD. I almost can't feel anything. Ubi is rich af, why not use facial capturing? AC3 was the first AC game to use motion capture, and holy shit… it's one of my fave games. Yes. All games, not only AC series. The emotion in their faces, the gestures, the small glances, the little movements - they all decide every character's personality. The reason why I love every AC since AC3-ACOrigins is because the actors pour all their voices, faces, even body movements into the interactions between characters, because they make the stories feel alive. Let the actors be actors. I can rant more but this is already a long post so I'll stop. MOTION 👏 CAPTURE 👏.

(+) I love Basim's origin story. Dude's a 17 year old street thief who got a bit over his head and ended up becoming a fugitive because he killed the fucking caliph himself. That was crazy HAHAHAH anyway even though I think the beginning felt a bit rushed I love it. I just wish they could milk it more.

(+) I love the side characters! Especially Ali (I think he's hot 👉👈 and he's the absolute freedom fighter). Anyway, even though they don’t really do much, they all feel alive and do lots of things (except Roshan prolly HAHAHAH but there's a reason I guess)

(+) Roshan. Mentor and reminds me of Al-Mualim. I particularly love the fact that after all that wise words throughout the game, she literally threatened Basim if he actually went to the underground temple. And when she showed up covered in blood??? And THE TWIST AT THE END??? "Roshan bint La-Ahad". SHE'S ALTAIR'S ANCESTOR. THAT FUCKING SHOCKED ME YOOOO. She's just amazing. 

(-) Pacing - I feel like this is because they’re speeding things up (which is a good thing), the pacing is pretty standard in the beginning, but the ending is a bit too high of a rollercoaster mount. The ending went from 0-100 real quick. I feel like we need a more of a climbing storyline. This is why I kind of don’t agree with the ‘centering’ storyline instead of a linear story. Centering styles of story has no climb in the intensity, and because of that we can’t feel the character developments because he’s supposed to stay the same even though we’ve killed like 3 bosses already. And then when all the underlings are dead, finally the boss racks up Basim’s curiosity super duper high that it becomes too sudden.

(-) Weak Villains - The villains since Origins are always hidden and unknown, unlike the previous games where the Templars are literally KNOWN by the people. I want more villains like Haytham tbh, where he literally doesn’t care about the precusor sites and only wants stability in his reign as a Grandmaster. Or if the villains do care about the Pieces of Eden or have a prior interest of the First Civ, at least let them have an actual personality and character, let them be a menace and a threat since the beginning of the game instead of being the NPC’s we kill to finish the game. Let them challenge our beliefs as an Assassin/Hidden Ones. Let the villains actually have an impact to the main storyline. Imagine in the end Basim and Qabiha really went to the underground temple together, and got confronted by Roshan. That’s where the conflict in Basim climaxed! Imagine the emotion! The drama~! 

(+) How the stories interlinked with Valhalla. Basim is a sage, and host of Loki who sought revenge to Odin (who wronged him). So I don't think Basim nor Loki are evil per se. They're just gray. Now the stories aren't just about Templars vs Assassin, it's more focused towards the First Civilization. It's a bit hard to keep up but it's nothing a bit of reading/looking up some lore videos wouldn't solve.

MISC

We need more outfits! The outfits are far too few for us to choose from! 

Wonderful and mystifying music. Nuff said. Brendan Angelides and Layth Sidiq nailed it. One Republic and Mishaal Tamer’s “Mirage” in on repeat on my Spotify right now.

I love gear chests hunting and all the collectibles. I just wish the map is bigger and there’re more collectibles T_T I’M A LOOT GOBLIN OKAY.

I learn history of Baghdad LFG. I play largely for the stories and not the gameplays, so if there’s a codex entry or any new historical sites I always read it. Learning history doesn’t hurt! 

How I can really relate to the real world. I live in Indonesia where 90% of the people is Muslim (I’m a Christian), so when I here familiar words like Alhamdullilah, Assalam’ualaikum and Wa’alaikumsalam, or see the people praying, the Adzan sounds throughout the city, the people praying towards the Ka’bah, it kinda feels like home! Just hope that they add more funny shit to it though, like “Yaallah Basim! Istighfar!” Or “WALLAHI.” Or more Arabic sayings so we can immerse more to the world.

MAKE BASIM DO THE 5 PRAYERS (maybe when we pass time or after a big mission we come back to him finishing a prayer).

FINAL VERDICT - 7.8/10 -> It’s a focused game, and it really did come back to some of the original elements of AC before the RPG trilogy. It’s not too long and casuals can play it without feeling like we have to grind like Odyssey or Valhalla. Deffo would recommend playing it!

Once again, BRING BACK MOTION CAPTURE ‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️

If you did play it gimme some thoughts in the comments! Thank you for reading! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

[bluepotion85]

The Golden Ratio - Chapter 3

(The following story contains male weight gain, food play, BDSM, kidnap, encouragement, and feeder/feedee scenarios. If that's not for you, then go to church or something vanilla dude.

This takes place during and after the events of the One-Piece film GOLD. For a better experience see the film on your local streaming service.

This story is written in collaboration with @bee-wg )

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

Tesoro

We see ourselves as special, separated from the world we live in. When the pirates burn a neighboring island, we don't think of it as our problem, not until they come and burn everything here as well. Then we know the truth, we can all experience despair, slavery, or death. 

I have rid myself of the shackles of the world with the one true power, money. Those too weak to change their realities or too stupid to realize these are the rules of the world; are destined to be used by the powerful. 

And the man dangling from my wall right now is no different. While Roronoa, Zoro tries to keep a strong front, he is getting micro-dose with particles of gold that enter his body with every meal. With every day that he stays here, the pirate hunter and swordsman of the straw hats becomes more of my personal plaything. I’ll transform him in every way so everyone can see that he is nothing but mine.

My pheromone fumes in the room are already firing his head, keeping him aroused at every waking moment. Not to mention the golden rod deep within him, it will edge him until his brain is scrambled with the need for release. While they do their job, I’ll get to destroy the body he so tirelessly worked.

“How is my wall trophy doing? Enjoying your alone time?” I said.

“I’ll get that shit-eating grin off your face when I get down off this wall,”

“It's hard to take that threat seriously when you are about to bust a nut,”

He struggles against his restraints, yelling at me for a “proper fight.”

“There have already been enough fights. You haven't gotten any closer to defeating me, pirate hunter. Admit that you can't win against me,”

“I'm the man who will cut through everything, even you,”

“Mmm, maybe your brain is not getting enough food to see the truth. Let's have breakfast then,”

“I’m not hungry,” he replied.

“I wanted to take you out to a popular restaurant, but if you would rather stay in the wall, suits you right,” 

I wave my hand at him, making the golden rod speed up. The vibrations shook him to his core, he then looked at me for a second before answering “Fine, just get this thing off me,”

It was a bit unexpected to see him accept so easily, in any case, he was following the plan.

“Of course,”

I got him off the wall and gave him a set of clean clothes. Once he changed, we went to the garage, where our ride awaited. 

“Why does anyone need so many cars?” he said.

My garage is filled with multiple models of turtle cars.

“It's about the kachow!”

“What?”

I didn't bother explaining my superior taste in cars to him. My limo arrived anyway. We got in and drove through the city.

“And why so many cars if you make someone else drive for you? It's a waste.” he said, pointing at the driver.

Ugh, peasant.

We arrive at The Gold Pearl. The structure is a massive sphere built into the ship. The center of the sphere has a stage where live performers entertain the customers, with tables taking the sides of the structure. The roof is a rendition of Skypiea from the most renowned artist in the new world.

That's only the general admission section of the restaurant, which takes up to two-thirds of the space, leaving the upper third to the VIP section. Inside it, a group of golden droplets hang from the ceiling moving slowly, giving the illusion of waves in the sea. The sides of the sphere in the VIP section are see-through. Add to that the slowly rotating floors, and you have a great panoramic view of the city. Of course, the ungrateful ass didn’t spare a glance.

The waiting time for a table in the VIP area is over a year, or that's the case for everyone else. I made a call and reserved the whole section. Nobody was allowed to interact with Roronoa but me.                                 

“Get seated pirate hunter. The meal is about to begin,” I added.

He reluctantly sat at a table meters away from me. 

“What the matter, afraid I will bite?”

He looked at me with the utmost rage and resentment before standing up, walking to my table, and sitting across from me.

“Hahaha! You are learning after all!”

The waiter arrived handing me the menu. After inspecting it, I say, “Give me the steak with porcini butter and charred onion, and for him, the Sea King treat, white wine as for the two of us.”

“Of course,” said the waitress before leaving.

“What's the Sea King treat?”

“Since we encounter so many Sea Kings through our voyage, we have lots of their meat. It gets distributed across the restaurants at the Gran Tesoro. With each restaurant offering a full run of their best dishes with that meat, they all name it the Sea King treat,”

“I’m not that hungry. It’s too much for me even if I was,”

“There is no such thing as too much here,”

“I won't eat that much,”

“Once you try it, you will see it differently, one taste and you won't be able to put your fork down,”

“If it's like the rest of the food here, I doubt that,”

We wait for a while and the waiiter came with our drinks. She set both glasses on the table and before she could pour the drinks, Roronoa snap the bottle of wine off her hands. 

With his teeth he remove the cork from the bottle and took big gulps of the wine. The waiter looked with wide eyes as he downed the bottle in front of her. I laughed and asked her to bring more alcohol for the both of us. At least now I know of something he is weak to.

Our food arrived after the third bottle of wine went down Roronoa’s throat. The waiter placed plate after plate of meat at our table.

Roronoa looked puzzled at me before he asked, “You can't possibly expect me to eat all this?!” 

“Bon appetit,” I said.

We started to eat and by the end of his first plate, he looked ready to finish. So I moved my hands and manipulated the gold inside him to my will. Expanding the walls in his stomach, his expression changed as he felt the sudden void inside of him.

“Still hungry? Why not take another cut of meat, there is plenty,”

Before he could reply his stomach rumbled loudly. He evaded my eyes as he took another plate of food. He ate it faster than the last one, and again before he was finished I expanded his stomach capacity. He holds his stomach with a tormented look before taking another plate. Yes, pirate hunter, enjoy the meat, fill your guts to your heart's content, because I will make sure you only leave this place stuffed to the brim!

Zoro

What's going on with this food?

It's been an hour since we got here and no matter how many plates of food I eat, I don't seem to feel satisfied. 

The cuts of meat are savory, rich with grease, and saturated with sauce. They are so tender they melt in my mouth like cotton candy. Maybe that's why they don't fill me. They're all taste and have no substance. 

I finished my third plate with a burp, looking at Tesoro who finished his food. He looks pleased from his meal but that miserable grin of his gave me the creeps.

“Why don't you try the duck a l'orange, It's one of my favorites,” he said, extending me the plate.

I'm about to reject it when my insides churn, a belch comes up from deep within me and my stomach rumbles all over again. The smell of the duck mixed with my appetite makes me swallow my pride. I take the dish and get to work on ripping pieces of flesh and bringing them to my mouth. 

Not a day ago I was making an effort not to eat from this psycho, but my stomach roared like a wild tiger for sustenance. Also, if they wanted to poison me with something the damage is done. 

I pick the bottle of wine and down it in a few gulps, at least this is good. Some good booze is just what I needed to withstand this mess. Once the bottle is empty I ask the waiiter for more and I bring close a plate with sea king brochettes.

My attention is drawn in double-fist them, only stopping to breathe. All concerns besides filling my stomach are now out the window. Sushi, salad, meat, everything passes through my lips with a storm of grunts and burps filling the silence of the room. 

I took one last bite of churrasco when I felt the wave of fullness hit me. As if my brain suddenly realized I was stuffed beyond belief. I lowered my eyes and found my stomach tight and distended, strained against my clothes.

“What the-?”

“See, once you have one bite, you can't have enough of them,” he said. 

He stood from his seat and started to walk towards the exit.

“Come on, we wasted enough time here,”

“Give me a minute. I can barely breathe.”

“It's not my fault you made a pig of yourself. Unless you want someone else catching you like this, I suggest you get going,” he replied beside my ear.

Selfish prick, he is the one that orders enough food to feed an army. It's not my fault they were so light, except for that last dish. Trying to stand up I managed to see the rest of my body with more attention, grease, sauce, and pieces of food were scattered over my clothes. Fuck- I did let myself go. At least whatever got into me here won't happen again.

I accepted Tesoro’s invitation to get out of the room and its awful smell. But if that means eating like a pig for over an hour I’ll stay at his office. I'm already messing up my training schedule, I don't want to add fatass to my list of problems.

“What do you say? Do you want to do the same for dinner? I know you loved it.”

“I would rather die.”

The probe made itself known, vibrating deep inside me. It must have stayed there even after Tesoro got me off the wall. But after twenty four hours of it inside me, I must have gotten used to it. Now back to shaking my inside, I try to keep myself together.

“Fine, I will, just make it stop,”

“I don't know what you mean, but I'm sure you made the right choice,”

While we made our way back to the office, I could only nurse my complaining stomach and wonder if the walk to the Limo would offset the meal I just had.

We got into the car and drove back to Tesoro´s main building. When he opens the door, we are met by a pitch-black room,”

I thought we were going to this office. Where are we? 

“Don't lag, you don't want to get lost, do you?” he said.

“I can make my way back without your help.” 

With a sigh, I walk into the room. The door closes behind me, and I catch up to him. He snaps his fingers, and the space is illuminated, revealing a long white corridor. A tiny door on the wall opened with a Lemur coming out of it. His big, colorful eyes focused on Tesoro before he said, “Project Scenario 1.” 

The creature quickly got back into the hole, we waited for a few seconds. Then the white walls of the corridor changed into a rainbow of twirling colors. 

“What is this place?”

“It's a Lounge,"

“That answers nothing.”

The walls of the corridor start to change, now showing a deep cave. The image is so clear I would believe we teleported. I even stretched my arm to where the wall should be to make sure it was still there.

Tesoro continued to walk through the now cave-like corridor, and I followed his steps. 

“There are cast lemurs behind the walls. In the wild, they can project images from their eyes to scare predators. Here, they are great for making this augmented reality experience,” he said.

We continued to walk. The corridor changed into views of Fishman Island, Skypiea, Dressrosa, The Goa Kingdom, Alabasta, and even a land made of sweets.

“A candy land? They are imaginative,” I mumbled.

“Oh, all these places are real. We took the lemurs to memorize the landscapes and use them here,” he replied.

“To the candy land? You can't expect me to believe that.”

“It's Whole Cake Island. What? Would you like to go there even after that meal?” he said mockingly.

“Of course not! It's hard to believe something like that exists, more people would talk about it,”

“It’s the territory of Big Mom, no pirate in their right mind would go there. Don't blame me for your ignorance pirate hunter,”

I was about to try and strangle him when he suddenly stopped walking, and I crashed into his massive back.

“Oi, Why did you stop?”

“We are here. I told you this is a Lounge,"

He moved to the side and revealed a circular room. The walls looked like a night sky filled with stars. Inside, a group of beanbags filled the room. 

Tesoro sat in one of the beanbags at the center of the room, and I followed suit, knowing he wouldn't let me sit anywhere else. 

“Why are we in a Lounge anyway?”

“Just Shut up and enjoy it,” he said, closing his eyes and laying back against the bean bag.

I look into the different projections, trying to relax, but my stuffed stomach keeps groaning in pain. While I clutched it, Tesoro looked at me and said, “The bean bags have a massage setting. There is one mode that could ease your belly,”

“I do not have a belly! I'm just bloated from all that trashy food you pushed on me,”

“If it was so bad, why did you eat it all? I didn't tell you to do it. That was all you,”

“I-”

He cut me up and said, “Do you want the message or not? I wanted to come here and relax, not hearing your gut groan the entire day,”

The idea of the chair starting to massage me like the table brought mixed thoughts. I don't want to give Tesoro more opportunities to mess with me, not to mention If it starts going inside of me like the table I will die. But anything that could help me with the pain is worth trying.

“Fine,” I replied.

The beanbag sprouts two arms from its sides and starts massaging my shoulders. The gold bastard’s beanbag also starts massaging him, and I calm down for a second. The arms move to my chest and neck, the tension from the day leaving me slowly. Finally going to my stomach, they make circles over it, applying pressure now and then. I would burp occasionally, releasing some space, and before long the pain had subsided. 

They continue like this for a while, the feeling soothing alongside the images of the walls. I started to feel drowsy when images of Whole Cake Island started to show again. I could almost swear the smell of the sweets was real.

“Hey, wake up. I didn't bring you here to sleep all day,” said the golden jackass slapping in the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

That's when I noticed the smell of all kinds of food filling the atmosphere. The room now looks like a jungle of food, with donuts sprouting from trees and spaghetti waterfalls.

“So, is this place also real?”

“Yes, the Boin Archipelago has a series of islands that flourish food from their plants,”

“I owe an apology to Usopp. I thought this was another one of his lies,”

He looked at me with curiosity, and I added, “A crewmate said he went there, but he is the king of lying, so nobody believed him,”

His laugh thundered around the room “Not that many people go there and come out to tell the tale, he managed to do it and nobody believes him? That's just perfect” he said.

“Enough off time. You had your rest,” he added.

“Wait, can't we stay for longer?” I asked, not wanting to go back to the wall. 

“You are the one who fell asleep. Next time, try to enjoy the few seconds you have off the wall with your eyes open,” he said before walking towards the exit.

After fighting to get up from the cursed beanbag, I caught up to him. The corridor keeps playing images of the Boin islands with their respective scent. I guess the room also produces artificial smells to match the images. 

My stomach roars out of a sudden, and Tesoro looks back at me with a sinister grin.

“Hungry already, Roronoa?” he said.

How am I hungry? When I fell asleep, I was still so full I felt like a stuffed turkey. How long did I sleep?

“You are in luck, food is almost ready, and we can have an early dinner,” he added.

While I think of rejecting the offer, the images of the food and the enticing aroma make my mouth water. 

“Just this one time,” I say reluctantly.

<< First Chapter / <Previous Chapter /

[norrisreads]

The city of love #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!

SUMMARY: y/n , a well-known artist was spotted in Paris for business reasons. No one believed she was seeing someone until her vlog, which had glimpses of her and her lover, was made public. Many fans have claimed to have seen the artist hanging out with a particular F1 driver. Is this accurate?

WARNING: mostly fluff! reader and carlos communicate in english but she understands a little spanish/italian

FC: sooyaaa__ on ig (as you can see i’m a blink :p)

youtube: lifeofy/n just posted a new video

TITLE: PARIS VLOG

DESCRIPTION: A huge thank you to team dior for the invite to Dior #AW23! Such a great pleasure to be there as a Mademoiselle ❤️ Here’s a vlog to summarise my whole trip to Paris, enjoy!

Likes: 3.5M Views: 4.1M

instagram: lifeofy/n just posted

Liked by jennierubyjane, charles_leclerc and others

lifeofy/n : just posted a Paris vlog as promised! Loved Paris more than ever right now <3 #bonjour

Jennierubyjane : enjoying paris more than home? that’s so not you!

lifeofy/n: people change😆

y/nwrld : prettiest as ever y/n, glad u loooooved paris!!!!!!

charlesred : why did charles liked this post, do they know each other??????

c2baes: you’re right, that’s weird LMAO

sainz55: you might wanna check a twitter thread done by user sainz5five 🤭

twitter : sainz5five thread

carlossainz55 just posted

liked by lifeofy/n, charles_leclerc and others

carlossainz55 such a wonderful stay at Paris

sainz5five hmmmmm…. PARIS?

sainz55lyfe im kinda trusting your thread rn…….

charlesred all of you are reaching 😭

c2air not reaching when he literally has no reason to be in paris

landonorris without me??????paris??????

carlossainz55 sorry it was a specific Mademoiselle request to be in Paris 😎

Charles_leclerc Mademoiselle please invite me too

liked by lifeofy/n

lifeofy/n just posted a story

lifeofy/n just posted

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and others

tagged: carlossainz55

lifeofy/n date night with mr mysterious man who keeps on appearing on my vlogs, was i sneaky enough? carlossainz55 🥂❤️

landonorris took you long enough, bets over danielricciardo pierre_gasly

danielricciardo NO. y/n please delete this and repost it in 5 more days 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 $100 is at its gunpoint right now

pierregasly CARLOS YOU LIED TO US. carlossainz55

lifeofy/n landonorris hand the money over to me instead.

carlossainz55 $100 sounds good right now

carlossainz55 what a great view, many more?

alex_albon 🤢

lilymhe stop bullying the couple

lifeofy/n to many more ❤️

carlossainz55 just posted

liked by lifeofy/n, charles_leclerc and others

tagged lifeofy/n

carlossainz55 just before Paris ❤️

lifeofy/n this is for u sainz5five 😎🫵🏻

sainz5five no fucking way. IM DYING AS IM TYPPNG RNz.

lifeofy/n thought we agreed on my picture

carlossainz55 still beautiful to me

lifeofy/n corny

carlossainz55 Te amo más hoy que ayer pero menos que mañana ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

lifeofy/n just googled translated this and i love you 100000x more

a/n: just a short smau fluff for mr chilli 🌶️!!!!!!

[thatsparrow]

can’t imagine the watcher decision wasn’t informed by the success of dropout, a streaming service I and many other people happily pay for, but this news undeniably feels like a disappointment in comparison, and am trying to articulate why:

1. amount of content. I can’t speak to when dropout first launched (I think I started subscribing late 2019?), but I know that when I joined, it already felt like there was an enormous backlog of series to explore—not to mention the amount that was also uploaded to youtube, albeit on a delay (I know I watched at least the first half of fantasy high s1 on youtube, if not the whole thing, and by the time I signed up for dropout, there was also s1 of unsleeping city, bloodkeep, tiny heist on the horizon, and s2 of fantasy high currently live streaming. not to mention the number of full episodes they'd uploaded to youtube of um actually, game changer, breaking news, etc. and how much more was then available on dropout)

I don't know what conversations were happening behind the scenes at dropout, I don't know in real-time what was subscriber-only and what was getting uploaded to youtube, or what the breakdown was of series getting created and solely released on dropout in comparison to content they were releasing for free. all I know is that when I heard about d20 and wanted to check it out, I was able to watch a good chunk via youtube, enough to know that I wanted more, and also to know that dropout had a whole lot else to offer that I was also curious about.

so that's one of the things that feels immediately different about the watcher announcement. they're teasing new series that will be available, but for the moment, it seems like everything that will currently be on the new platform is already available for free on youtube (to clarify, because there's been a lot of confusion on this front, they are not deleting their old content off youtube. all those videos are staying there). there's also a question of release schedule — are they talking about weekly episode releases of one season airing at a time, as was their youtube model, with stretches in between? I guess I come back to, if you're trying to go subscriber-only going forward (with the caveat that the first ep of a season will also get released on youtube, and also with the caveat that obviously dropout had to reach a certain level of success before it was able to release content at the volume, consistency and quality it does now), are you creating enough to justify the sort of wholesale transition they seem to be implementing? i'm not sure the answer is yes

2. paying/supporting artists. no one's arguing that you shouldn't pay or support artists, and there are incredibly valid critiques of how youtube hamstrings creativity and the issues with being beholden to advertisers. more creative freedom is a good thing. more independent artists is a good thing.

that said, it feels like there's a disconnect between what supporters are looking for from where there money is going and how watcher wants to spend it. the video really emphasized wanting to make tv-quality productions, and that they feel like they've hit a ceiling with the youtube business model in terms of achieving that aim, but are watcher fans looking for tv-quality productions? of the new series they mentioned, travel seemed like a pretty big element, which is obviously expensive. I think of new shows released on dropout, and they've clearly got solid production value behind them, but they're also still all filmed on a set (it's 3am in a warehouse!!) — even ambitious and expensive episodes of game changer are still basically shot in the same set of rooms, with the stakes raised from there (the escape room ep, bingo, etc.)

look, I don't work in digital media, and so I don't have a sense of what it costs to put on a show, but I can't help but look at some of watcher's stated ambitions that clearly need to have a significant budget behind them vs something like too many spirits (something I have to imagine has to cost a lot less, but which is just as enjoyable to watch) and wonder if part of the backlash has to do with how it feels like their current revenue is being spent/prioritized

and maybe the problem is that there's just a fundamental disconnect between the kinds of shows watcher wants to make, and what their audience is looking for, but if that's the case, it doesn't feel like moving to a subscriber-only system is the solution

[lokisasylum]

Oh you know its BAD when K-Army start talking about it...

Most of the k-army that were in the venue have been pointing out all the MANY mishaps the staff took with the preparations, how careless they were, how they did it all in a rush just MINUTES before the Weverse Live started.

How dim the lights were (or how there were NO lights on when Jimin first arrived). The malfunctioning monitors that never turned on.

Another K-army even mentioned how shocked she was that near the end when it was time to take the "group photo" the staff took it with a cellphone instead of a professional camera like on the other member's fanmeets.

And before you brush it off and say "Its no big deal." let me remind you something real quick.

Hybe made an estimated $11Million off of Jimin's Production Diary on the very day it was launched.

$11 Million in USD from 510,000 people who paid to watch it. (And lets not forget those who couldn't watch it in the moment due to different timezones but regardless, also PAID for the content)

LET THAT SINK IN FOR A SEC...

Now look at that set up for Jimin's Special Talk and tell me you're not asking yourself: "Where the fuck did all that money go?" Does that set-up look like it was made for an artist that made his company $11 Million dollars in a single day?

No, that set up looks like someone went dumpster diving on the back of Party City & grabbed the first things that they could find. (And that's saying a lot 'cause if you've watched any video on ppl who go dumpter diving you will know they tend to find more treasures than trash)

K-armys are upset and they have a right to be upset as are we. Because like a Japanese Army mentioned:

"I don't want to complain too much, but Jimin is the only one who has not been given a purchase link on Spotify, and even though he has been nominated for Billboard's Top Selling Song, there has been no restock since April and they have not supported the award opportunity, which is the least the agency can do. As a fan who has been working hard to support him, I'm a little confused because he hasn't been able to do so much."

[I'm not sure if they know the purchase link were added awhile ago, but anyway..]

Since we're on the topic of Spotify, lets not forget that Jimin is the ONLY BTS member that got removed from the "Fans Also Like" page from other members (and even BTS' own official profile):

In fact, Jimin doesn't even have that section in his own profile:

In comparison with other members:

Do I need to say more? Is the message not clear enough for you?

[gauloiseblue]

The Garden

Since that day, he's been seeing her more often. Sometimes on his way to the town, or running into her at the market. Maybe that's the perk of being a neighbor

He also runs more often with Liv—Olivia as he becomes a regular at her bakery

She's already a chatty girl from the start, but after knowing he didn't think of (name) as a bad person, it seemed to increase twofold

She talks a lot about her; what she's like when she first moved, her story about the bakery, how it took 3 years before they became friends, and how she taught her how to make sourdough, because she seemed to have fun making them

There's also heavier stories about her, when the rumors were affecting their friendship, and how long it took her to take down the wall she built, until they could talk like they used to. Though it's no longer there, she did feel like she has changed, and she couldn't do anything about it

One day, the subject of the talk comes to the shop when she's talking to him, and ends up giving her an earful, telling her she shouldn't bother a buyer. But he quickly says he doesn't mind, which earns him a dirty look from her

He wants to believe her, and that his neighbor is simply misunderstood. But he's a rational man, and he'd like to see her from many perspectives before truly believes in her words

The second person who believes her as a good person is Mr. Harris. He talks quite a deal of her, whenever he picks up fresh milk from him

"She's too nice sometimes, it's almost like I'm taking advantage of her kindness."

He tells him the story of the bull, and how he didn't have enough money to buy it from the auction, and he told her about it when she asked him whether he wanted to join the auction or not. Which, to his surprise, she delivered the bull the next day, saying she likes him, but can't possibly keep him, so she gave the bull to him.

He then proceeds to tell him how she loves the cows in his farm, and that he let her named one of the baby cows. He also gave her his products for free, and that he'd share anything his friends gave him to her

There's a lot of people, especially kids who like her. But when it comes to kids, they only like her because she's like a lady santa claus

She'd scold them if they ask for money, or anything for the purpose of showing off. If they genuinely want it, she'll give it to them without many question

But what amuses him, is how they ask for it. They're very straightforward, they'll just ask her if she's really a santa claus, and mention the thing they want. If their answer satisfy her, she'll buy it for them, if not, she'll close the door

The way they told him about her is like telling a legend

As for the adults, they usually thought that she's kind, just reserved

He keeps track of the info, and tries to piece them together. He told himself he's not trying to figure her out, he's just trying to understand her. Though deep in his heart, he knew he said it to justified his actions

Months have passed, and he begins to see a clearer picture. It's likely that her job is related to arts, possibly an artist herself, or a curator, judging by her preference, and how much money she had earned

He also guessed about her status from the lack of a ring in her finger. She might’ve been married at some point, but not anymore. There also aren't many men in the village who take interest in her, even if they do, they won't really do anything about it. Country men avoid scandals like city boys avoiding responsibility

That's what he thought, until he finally saw the gardener

He met him one day, after finishing his morning jog. He saw a young man working on the flowering trees around her garden, and he decided to say hi

He's very attractive, and his eyes still possess a childlike innocence. He almost looks like a small pup, which seems like the complete opposite of her

They talk for a while, before they turn their head towards the door, which is opened before the owner of the garden steps out. She seems surprised to see him talking with the boy, but she welcomes him nevertheless

He didn't miss to see the boy's eye lights up at the sight of her

"Have you had breakfast?" She asked him, and he shook his head, "Do join us, then"

He never really eat after exercise, but he can't resist the offer for a cup of tea

They all settle in the dining room, which has a pretty wine cellar, and extensive collections of liquors. He takes one of them to examine it

"You like to drink?"

"Not really." She replied, "Most of them are just for collection."

"That's a shame," He hums, "It's a good whiskey."

"You may take it if you want."

He turns his head in surprise, "What?"

"Well, you said it's a good whiskey." She looks at him after setting the table

He shakes his head, "It is, but I don’t drink anymore."

She mutters a small 'oh', before taking a seat. The young man follows afterwards before he does

Today's menu seems to include poached eggs and spinach, with yellow sauce on top. The boy quickly digs in, as well as talking about the garden's condition, and anything that crossed his mind

She only gives short answers to all of his babbles, almost as if she's putting a barrier between them. It's even more striking as she mostly keeps her conversation with him, leaving the boy out subtly.

Once the boy finishes, he excuses himself to work for a little bit before going to him. After he leaves the room, he turns his attention to her

"He likes you."

She then groans, "I know, it's giving me headaches."

"Why'd you keep him around, then?"

"It's not like I have a choice."

She begins to tell him about his situation, from the start until now. He likes flowers, but his family didn't have enough space for his hobby, for a reason that they're farmers, and an acre of land can produce a bag's worth of potatoes, so they couldn't really afford wasting it. One day, when he walked on this road, he saw her house with withering trees and decided to knock on the door.

"Of course I couldn't refuse him, I wanted to see the flowers, but I didn't know how." She sighs, "He didn't want to receive any payment from me, so I told him he could buy anything he needed. That's the least thing I can do for him."

"When did you realize he has something for you?" He asked

"I'm not sure." She bit her lips, "I did have my suspicion early on, but after his visits became more frequent for no other reason than meeting me, I knew I was right."

"You gonna do something about it?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't wish to burn the garden just to push him out of my life." She mused, "He had taken care of them for so long, it'd be cruel of me if I took it away from him."

He rubs his chin as he thinks, "Perhaps you can hire a real gardener to replace him?"

"I'll think about it." She leans back on her chair, "It's a shame, though. It's nice to have him around."

"Then don't do anything about it. Let it happen."

She laughs as she catches what he means, "I don't think it's appropriate for me to do."

She talks about his desire to go to a business school, so he could expand the business once he takes over. But his parents can't really afford it, so he decided not to pursue it. She then encouraged him to apply for a scholarship, and helped him to get it, which was a success. Now he's in the 2nd years

"No wonder he likes you." He commented

"He shouldn't be." She frowns, "I'm almost the same age as her mother, he shouldn't have any feelings towards me."

"Well, that's because you don't look like one."

She lets out a small laugh, "I'm flattered, thank you."

They talk for a bit, before he excuses himself. On the way out of her garden, he finds the boy working on the potted plants, before they both hear a song softly plays from one of the windows

The boy smiles as he tugs on the withered leaves, and all of the sudden, a single thought strikes him

He doesn't love the garden. He loves the owner

《 Prev | Next 》

[windienine]

YOU. Kicks my legs like we're at a sleepover. Who was the character u were posting about in the tags.. spill..

kicking my legs back, ready to paint your nails at any time soooooo

okay i already dedicated a whole 2k word post to his partner goddess weird animal who bites him sometimes personal jester friend (?) Ysmé, so this time I'm going to spill about Loïc Ard from Soul of Sovereignty (prelude), an hour-long adult fantasy visual novel preview (< link here) that arrived on itch late last year courtesy of webcomic artist GGDG (if you're familiar with Lady of the Shard or CQ, you know their work)

So. This idiot.

look at this character design. the people hunger for men with strong cheekbones and glasses. look at the robes that attach at the fucking fingertips to draw attention to the position of his hands.

He's very soft-spoken and sweet. He knows a lot about the history of his world, as well as the biology of what lives there. He's staggeringly generous to others, even complete strangers. He's good at cooking. He knows how to sing.

He's the viewpoint character for the lion's share of the story atm, we get to look into his brain a little more often than Ysmé's for reasons that Will Become Rapidly Apparent As You Play.

Loïc is a middle-aged guy (late 30s? early 40s?) who works in an unofficial capacity at an inn in bugfuck nowhere (Tarn, a northerly village miles from anywhere else and regularly frozen solid by blizzards, with a population of Not Enough To Maintain Infrastructure), helping to cook, clean, and care for its mostly non-paying clientele, who his friend Alma, the proprietress, is allowing to stay for free. It's become a glorified sickhouse and shelter. No one is paying to stay in Tarn, but Alma can't turn her back on what she considers her hometown and Loïc can't turn his back on Alma (and he's here for other reasons too) so the inn is just kind of slowly decaying as conditions get less and less profitable. This sucks.

Especially because Tarn was built less than a century ago as an adventurers' hub for treasure hunting squads looking to uncover temples and relics right nearby, and the inn used to be full of good people and good food and fire and light and Alma wants all that back so bad it hurts and she refuses to say it's cooked and move back to the big city (in this case, the Mosaic, an ark-like vertical metropolis that housed humanity for hundreds of years after their world's apocalypse. After the outside was deemed safe again a century back, many people wanted to try and make a living documenting and salvaging stuff... but most of it turned out to be decayed, empty, and/or worthless, after so much time had passed.) The Mosaic is bright and lively, but it's a restrictive place to live for a lot of people-- cultures outside the dominant (very fantasy-Catholic) one are suppressed and the focus on making money to survive is exhausting.

But Loïc makes things a little less miserable. He's got a calm and pleasant bearing, he brightens up the place with flowers and greenery he manages to get growing even in this climate (he's a florist), and he's someone to talk to. He's witty, he's thoughtful, and he's almost a little too willing to dedicate all of his time and energy to helping people, and overall he's this mundane nice fella... with one big caveat you learn real early on.

Loïc is a mage, and a really unique sort.

The floristry bit isn't just his job or a characterization quirk, it's the whole basis of his magic. Species of flowers in this world each hold a unique concept-- fire (pallisia), calm (lavender), light (white dawn's eye), mundanity (dandelion), memory (cloud sage), you name it, there's probably some obscure botanical species that represents something in the ballpark of it. A god of language (Fayim) allegedly imbued a meaning into each, and if you can commune and reflect and experiment around hard enough to unravel the concept of one, you can turn that concept into something real.

Think of it like magical linguistics -- [correct flower] + [expressed meaning] = [physical effect], like [correct phonetics] + [contextual meaning] = [language]. You can even chain a couple of them to make a more complex spell, like turning words into compounds, phrases, and sentences, but you do have to understand what it actually means to do so. You're forming a connection to Fayim's power by talking. This burns up the flower, but Loïc's extreme dedication to botany means that he's got a regular supply of the spells he uses most often.

Loïc can hand you a golden pallisia blossom, start waxing poetic about the nature of warmth, and the firelight kept inside will radiate out and keep you comfortable even in Tarn's frigid weather. It's rare and potent stuff, doubly so because worship of Fayim is dwindling-to-nonexistent in the Mosaic, where the only faith and magic most people are familiar with at all are those revering the Builder, the creator deity who erected the Mosaic and saved humanity from the apocalypse in the first place. Everything else? False gods. Loïc himself doesn't worship Fayim or the Builder; he uses Fayimic magic but is pretty disconnected from his own background + faith in general. He's interested in the theology but doesn't use prayers in his invocation if he can help it.

Magic's not foreign to this world (most people in this world know at least a little artisanry, a more logical and physical approach to magic which lets you stitch together bespoke objects out of thin air, used heavily in both art and industry), but flower reading is a rare and dying language. Loïc's cute little flower shop back in the Mosaic was also a spell broker for people in need of small miracles. Given that the Mosaic worships a creator deity, I guess this implies that magic, generally, is something humans tap into extant divinity to borrow.

So, Loïc is holed up in Tarn studying magic and using mending spells (yellow rose) to cure people of minor injuries, but everything goes to hell when a certain sickly blonde washes up at the inn's doorstep begging for help escorting her to a nearby temple please please you gotta, she'll die from turbo tuberculosis otherwise, god (not the builder, some other guy, don't ask who) said so. Oh my gosh, you will? Thank you so muchhhhhh

[paraphrased very hard]

alma: this is definitely a scam of some kind. please just talk her out of this so she doesn't get eaten by mutant wolves.

loïc: oh for sure but you don't try for scam this obvious unless you're really desperate. idk what she even wants here, let me feel her out. i have nothing worth robbing. maybe this is a trauma thing or a money thing and i can talk to her about it.

alma: loïc, that's literally not your problem. loïc there's this weird pattern where you prioritize the hypothetical wants of strangers over your own proven needs. loïc no.

loïc: loïc yes

So, of course, it ends up coming out that Loïc is in Tarn specifically because he is a single father with a daughter named Lelia who is comatose from an unspecified illness. Her prognosis is extremely grim (low chance of survival that dwindles the longer she stays out, probably terminal.)

Specifically, he's on a hopeless little snipe hunt for a rumored species (the glass bell) that could act as a panacea for any illness, if harnessed correctly in a spell, and it might either be extinct or entirely fictitious.

He knows he can't find it alone. If it even exists, it is a needle in an impossibly massive haystack. He is consumed inside-out with a compulsive need to do something about it, and when that proves impossible, it starts spreading into a compulsive need to do something for anyone. The grief of admitting that Lia is already in a prolonged state of death would eat him alive, so if he can transfer that feeling of purpose onto anything else he can buoy himself. He is spinning his wheels because confronting the fact that he has outlived his own daughter and has to go on without her is impossible.

But like... he's dying slowly, too, in this state. Like Lia. Like Tarn. It's only a matter of time before there's nothing left of himself to give, and at the impetus of the story that's basically what he wants. There's nothing left for him.

... Unless...!!

OTHER THINGS:

would give blessings to his daughter every day before she went to school

apparently has a puppy and a kitty back home

loves lavender and sunflowers most

sometimes casts so hard he passes out

including other people and making his casting into a conversation is a quirk he does and that's just super cute

carries pictures of his daughter around in his spellbook maes hughes style

besides his suspiciously alb-and-chasuble looking mage robes, wears an apron and skirt around the house + gg regularly draws him in cute dresses. this is a known victor's weakness.

the in-game glossary has botany notes from him, usually paired with him waxing poetic about each species' meaning. this nerd shit is a known victor's weakness.

you see his general bearing and a lot of people assume he's kind of this easily-flustered anxious disaster type, but he's actually very serene and difficult to get a rise out of. he'll play along with most jokes you try to throw at him. if he does actually freak out at any point, you know something is up.

we don't know what happened between him and his ex, but there are dialogue clues that point to it being weird and messy. he's played very interestingly as far as divorcee characters go (conflict-avoidant rather than desperate for love, wants to be the better person at every opportunity), what with being a man who has primary custody of his kid (and a good relationship with her!) and taking on a position that the audience would probably identify as more motherly than fatherly, in terms of western gender roles. there's this fun contrast where he's very confident in his looks and presentation and bearing (very charismatic guy!!), but a lot of that is traditionally feminine. he's just very genderous.

(all of this tragically forgoes the meat of his special connection to ysmé, but that is the core premise of the prelude and if i got into that here it would really and truly give away the whole plot. i need you to experience her for yourself. (for ten dollar.) if you do not have ten dollar i will stream the game for you and give GG an additional ten dollar. this is a threat.)

(what i WILL say is that if you read lady of the shard, looked at the "sexualized mind control" tw beforehand and went "well now i want to read it more and not less," there is a delicious taste of that here and it once again intersects heavily with themes of control and coercion over the self, skewed power dynamics, and the emotions that arise from them.)

whatever horseshit this confluence of circumstances makes you assume he will pull, i guarantee you it is not the full picture of what actually happens.