#twisted ring of tragedy au

[whererubbermeetstheroad]

The Anthropologist (Part 1)

AKA, the "I want V3 to connect to the other games so freaking badly" comic.

The Anthropologist (Part 2)

[amarylliasky]

Aaand number 1 is a sorta crack au post?

Au: Everyone’s a Regressor!

- Just what the title says. Everyone (except the villains ofc) is a regressor. Including Cale. Who just happens to be a regressor, transmigrator, and reincarnator. Basically the same plot of Cale lived his first life in tboah and then reincarnated as krs before regressing and transmigrating into his original body after dying as krs. Plot twist though, most everyone else is also a regressor and he has no idea. He has memories of his first and second lives. Including the novel he read before he died, and doesn’t know why everyone is acting so different from what he knows!

- Why is his family being so nice and talking to him?! Why is Ron giving him so much lemonade?! Why does that Punk Choi Han act like he knows him already?! He and Ron and Beacrox know each other?! When did they meet this early?! Who are all these people in his house?!

- Okay? So his father is reinforcing the walls and they are making a navy in the Ubarr territory??? This is great. The heroes and his family are preparing for the war and he doesn’t even have to lift a finger!

- He does still carry out his plans though. Getting the ancient powers, saving Raon and coincidentally finding On and Hong, and helping Taylor and Cage. Speaking of which, Taylor stops his search for the vitality of the heart and just relaxes in Puzzle city with Cage for a bit before they meet Cale. Of course, the god of death still tells Cage abt the benefactor, who was not present in their past life. Cage is shocked to hear from the one who abandoned them in the last life, but still listens to him for Taylor’s sake.

- Deruth doesn’t want to send either of his sons this time, but he is shocked when Cale offers to go. Despite both his parents and Basen trying to deter him, he convinces them to let him go. They agree, only because Choi Han and the Molan duo will accompany him. Deruth doesn’t like the idea sending the person who beat his son to protect him. Much less the ones who betrayed his son to go off and play hero with the offender; but he knows how strong they are. If anyone can keep Cale safe, it’s them.

- Choi Han doesn’t hate Cale, but he doesn’t really like him either. He’s come to respect the younger during the time they spent as allies during the war, but the Cale right now hasn’t faced his future tragedy yet. He’s still young and immature, and acts like trash….right..? Wait- not right?! What is with this kid? Why does he act so different from before?! By all means, he should still be trash, soo why is he acting completely different from their past life? And why does he know things he shouldn’t know at this point in time? Or any point in time for that matter?

- He doesn’t seem to remember their life before, so why is he acting so strange?

- Cale is just trying to make it seem like he doesn’t know half these people so he won’t look suspicious, but why is everyone acting like they know him? He knows he’s never met the crown prince in this life, so what’s with that melancholy look?

- Meanwhile, Choi Han is just trying to find a way to find Rosalyn and Lock without seeming too suspicious. Luckily, Cale sent him away first.

- The vow of death never happens.

- “ I can’t tell you everything, but I can share two truths.” “Oh, there’s no need Cale-nim. I trust you.”

‘Wha..? How can you trust me? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.’ “Don’t you want information on that secret organization?”

“It’s alright, Cale-nim. I’m sure we’ll run into them again soon.”

‘This punk…Does he know something?’ “Choi Han, do you know something about them?”

‘That’s not possible. Choi Han should have only encountered them once by this point.’

“No. I. Don’t. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About.” ….

‘Was Choi Han always such a bad liar..?’

- Cale doesn’t get the annual rings right away. Why? Idk, consistency with Tcf plot?

- Everyone knows that everyone has regressed except Cale. Bc it’s funnier that way.

- So we got all his family members tiptoeing around him, trying to see if he remembers but also trying not to jog his memory if he doesn’t. They know the last life hurt him and they don’t want him to have to carry the burden of their deaths. (He does. And he’s not gonna make the same mistake twice).

- The Radish is still a hassle to deal with. Obviously they didn’t see all his powers from the last life as they were completely overwhelmed by the enemies, but with Cale’s help and their experience from the past, they are much stronger and more prepared. By the time the Indomitable alliance comes to the Henituse territory, there are even more secret weapons coming out of the woodworks. Seriously, the enemies are so confused. So is Cale. So is everyone else. Clopeh never stood a chance. It’s like the pointing Spiderman meme. And the enemies are a bonfire in the middle; being reduced to ashes while everyone else is being stunned by each other’s collective strength.

- The only enemy they have a bit of trouble with is the White Star. Not because he’s too strong, no, he’s already no match for Choi Han, Rosalyn, and Lock fighting against him altogether, but with the aid of Eruhaben, they now know that he’s a reincarnator. They have no idea how to kill him for good.

- So basically, they keep encountering him and injuring him further while trying not to actually kill him. Of course, that’s not to say that the rest of the WS allies are a joke, rather, they are just slightly challenging as literally everyone in the two continents speed runs getting stronger to prepare to combat his forces.

- To make it even more fun, none of the enemies retain their memories. Also, the citizens are random on who has memories of their past. Some do, some don’t. It creates chaos.

- Adventurer Bob remembers his past life where he died on his first adventure. He doesn’t know how he came back to the past, but he’s determined to use his knowledge of the future to his advantage! (What knowledge? Bro literally died on his first expedition).

- A middle aged baker in Rain City vows to live his life to the fullest this time! He’s going to build a Wyvern bunker! He’s going to save up funds! And he’s going to make up with his daughter who ran away to become a sword master! He’ll support her all the way this time. They may not be enough, but even if she doesn’t reach that level, who is he to stunt her only chance at survival in the upcoming war?

- Rookie Knight Jeffron has had quite a strange day. He woke up only to hear three of his comrades spouting nonsense about wars and fire and wyverns..? Just what is a wyvern? Must have been quite the nightmare. Psssh! As if! The Henituse territory would never fall to enemy soldiers! And attacking from the sky? Yeah right! What’s next? The Sun god accepts the darkness attribute? Hah! Jokes these days…

- Really, half the city seems to have had too much to drink. Or too little…? What has happened to Young Master Cale?! Some citizens could have sworn he had still been trash in the past. So what has happened to make their young master change so much? He doesn’t seem like he remembers? He doesn’t…right?

[flightfoot]

Miraculous Enemies AU fanfic recs

So I was just thinking about one of my favorite Miraculous tropes, enemies au. Whether it's Marinette getting the wrong idea about Adrien from the beginning of school, or Chat being cajoled into working for his father, I adore most fics with these tropes, and I'm betting that a lot of other people do as well, so here's a list of some good ones for people to peruse!

Note: I am only listing fics that are currently completed, so you don't have to fear any of these being abandoned. They are in no particular order (or rather, they're in the order in which I was able to track them down in for this list).

cruel youth by @anyxnka

Two teenagers are chosen to wield miraculouses. Only one becomes a superhero. Weeks later, Ladybug’s lucky charm won’t stop spitting out cats.

---

i have found someone (like a nomad finds a home) by @hanaasbananas

After Stoneheart, Gabriel figured out who Chat Noir was, and forced him to work for him, rather than with Ladybug. Years later, Adrien is miserable until one night, he meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

---

Unstuck by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir, notorious supervillain of Paris, experiences a wardrobe malfunction in the best and worst possible place: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. Heart pounding, Chat pins Marinette’s wrists to the balcony. She stares up at him, her blue eyes kaleidoscopic from the lights hanging overhead, her features twisted into a scowl. “Why are you trying to take my Miraculous?” Chat hisses. “Because—you—I—” Marinette splutters, her eyes dipping down below Chat’s face. “Why is your suit unzipped?” “I—well…” Chat sighs. “My zipper got stuck.”

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every Miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

---

home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

---

The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it' The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation. At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe this war is not entirely what it seems.

---

Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth. But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known? Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone? Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

---

call it even by @anna-scribbles and @sha-nwa

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

---

oh, look, there you go with hope again by @ladyofthenoodle

After the defeat of Hawkmoth and his accomplice, Chat Noir, Marinette is ready to return to her normal life, but she can't escape Adrien Agreste, who was sentenced to a fate many consider worse than prison: public school. Specifically, her public school. Still, that doesn't mean she has to interact with him, does it? Except, if she doesn't... who will?

---

Redemption by JamieHasCatEyes

Papillon has been defeated and imprisoned, but his accomplice, Chat Noir, was given a second chance. Marinette's time as Ladybug may be over, but she still has work to do if she wants to help Adrien reintegrate back into society.

---

The Son Of My Enemy by Saccha

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him. A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

---

metamorphosis by @peachcitt

“I was thinking about that time you hated me.” “Why?” "I don’t know." “I didn’t.” “I know.” or three years after hawkmoth's defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there's also sleepovers.

---

Stealing Freedom by @rosie-b

Adrien Agreste was a good person. Marinette knew this to be true, of course; she wouldn’t be marrying him if he were some irredeemable villain. No, her fiancé was practically the opposite of evil. He cooed over babies and kittens, literally stopped to smell the roses, and always brought large bouquets of them to dates. He had trouble killing spiders and bugs, begging his partner to take on the task whenever she was around to save him. Adrien was the sweetest person Marinette knew, the most kindhearted, the most forgiving; he was almost too perfect for her sometimes. But now, Marinette knew that the same Adrien who still blushed when his fiancée kissed him was also the well-known terror of Paris, Cat Walker.

[thebiggerbear]

Destiel Fic Recs List

Rec list under Read More:

Desperation by @gococogo - While on a hunt, Dean gets hit with an unknown pollen that stings the throat. But after awhile of thinking everything is fine, Dean realizes he is not fine and very horny…

Love: A Retrospective by @xylodemon - Pretending Cas is just his friend has been the only thing keeping Dean's head on straight for years. He never realized how much doing that depended on him making himself scarce in the morning ─ not until Cas came back and moved into the bunker.

Ninety One Whiskey Series by @cuddlebabies - In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

Evangelist by @valleydean - In Lawrence, the Novak family owns more than god. Castiel is expected to graduate with a business degree, become a community leader, meet a nice girl, and one day help run the family business, Evangelist, Inc. Then he meets Dean Winchester, who vehemently opposes everything Evangelist stands for. When Dean’s need for cash to pay the bills leads him down a risky path, both he and Castiel learn there may be more to Evangelist than philanthropy and good will.

The Path of Fireflies by @museaway - After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

Twist and Shout by gabriel, standbyme - What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

yesterday's roses by @museaway - It was not how Castiel had envisioned their first real conversation would go, but then he’d never thought he’d trade a thriving legal career in Chicago for a job in his brother’s flower shop in Kansas, either.

Castiel Novak's Office, This is Dean by @valleydean - Dean Winchester is an executive assistant at an advertising agency. On the day his boss retires, he has an unforgettable one night stand with a new hire, Castiel Novak. The problem: turns out Cas is his new boss.

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits - The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Forgiveness by Chelstiel Winchester - Takes place in Episode 8 of Season 8 "Hunteri Heroici." Dean and Castiel are talking in the motel room, but this time Sam doesn't burst in and ruin the moment. [FFn.Net]

*I will add more as I go

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[rom-e-o]

Funny idea:

In my Veilguard AU for pop culture references in that world, what if they were all jokes and twists on pop culture in this world?

Shakespeare doesn't exist in that world. Meet Quiverspitt! (Which also sounds like a great Dickensian name.)

'Friends'? Nope--'Mates'.

'Bewitched'? We don't have that, but there is a TV show about an ordinary woman that married into a culture of magic wielders and needs to keep her identity as a regular human secret. It's a fun if slightly dated romp full of shenanigans with her doing everything normally but trying to make it look like she's doing it all magically. It's called "Not Witched".

'Downton Abbey'? 'Upstone Château'.

'The Lord of the Rings'? 'The Master of the Circlets'.

'The Great Gatsby'? 'The Notable Nezbey'.

'A Christmas Carol'? 'A Yuletide Yowl'.

I am SO obsessed with all of these! Firstly, they are so totally in the tongue-in-cheek tone of the game, and also have a brilliant fantasy/medieval twist.

Quiverspitt is FANTASTIC. And Dickens would be incredibly proud of that name! The infamous playwright, known for his affinity for large, frilly collars and romantic-tragedies, called traum-antics.

Bellara would adore 'Upstone Chateau.' With her love of serials and romance, especially enemies-to-lovers, girl would be obsessed with every episode and plot point. She starts a "watch club" where everyone gathers and talks. Emmrich is allows, but only if he keeps his eye-rolling about the 'those Orlesian politics' to a minimum. (Orlais is very much inspired by France in DA, haha.)

I would watch he heck out of "Not Witched" honestly. Calling that now. And a "Yuletide Yowl" is glorious. Just like the classic story, but there are werewolves in this version. It's a classic!

Davrin: Why doesn't he just fight the ghosts? I don't get it. Take 'em out with a fireball or two.

Emmrich: Well, if you must know-

Davrin: Stop, stop. No. That was not an invitation for a dissertation.

[princess-josie-riki]

In this drawing, F and N (in anthropromorphic versions) are ghosts, preparing to hold hands as they are ready for their spooky waltz.

This is for a new Alphabet Lore AU, Alphabet Lore: The Ghostly Lovers, with the ghosts of F and N, who are childhood friends turned lovers turned a married couple, haunting the old mansion (which was F's home before the tragedy that claimed F and N's lives on their elopement wedding), scaring, imprisoning, tormenting and killing trespassers (especially since it was F's idea) and expressing their love to each other. When F and N were alive, their love was forbidden because F was a rich nobleman and N was a commoner and an indentured servant and F and N are the same gender, so they kept their relationship a secret. As ghosts, F became cold, ruthless, aggressive, psychotic, twisted, sadistic and terrifying and would do anything to hurt and torment the living while being friendly and romantic towards N and N is kind, sweet, caring and loyal to F while he tends to be spooky, mischievous and insane as he would assist F with anything, especially scaring and murder.

This AU is inspired by my Alphabet Lore AUs, The Haunting of N, I Do and Lost Friend, The Haunted Mansion, The Nightmare Before Christmas,  Evanescence's Haunted, Avenged Sevenfold's A Little Piece of Heaven and Trick and Treat (with elements of Set it Off's Partners in Crime). And if anyone asks, yes, I used F's The Haunting of N design and N's I Do designs and I gave N two rings with the ; and ? gems on them as N's engagement ring and wedding ring respectively. I also added a ring for F.

I was listening to A Little Piece of Heaven since it fits them well.

Made with Microsoft Paint and Photopea.

RP allowed, bruh!

Alphabet Lore (c) Mike Salcedo Idea and artwork (c) me

[norel-ravenclaw]

The Haunted Mansion

Ikepri AU - Part 3

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: All 13 plus allusions to unknown new trio

Genre: Paranormal Tragic Romance

Rating: 14+

Word count: Part 3 - 2900

Description: Ikepri Haunted Mansion AU - The regional princes have had an awful time getting servants to stay at their grand manor. A young woman takes the job and quickly discovers why no one else applied. Despite the strange occurrences, she finds home and even love among them. But tragedy seeks to cut short the possibility of a happy ending. Be warned, this is a story for those who like a twisted sort of satisfaction.

WARNINGS: | lots of violent death, killing, and suicide (nothing too explicitly gory) | mxw | polyamory | yandere | toxic relationships | angst | dark goth vibes | seriously, only read this in a good headspace |

................................................................

Mr. Silvio Ricci was the wealthiest man in the hemisphere. He had governed the land by the sea for many years, but when the papers went to his brother, he left to go exert his influence elsewhere.

And this led him to the cursed mansion at the edge of the land. Deserted by its guardian beasts, the people were in need of a new governance system, and he was all to happy to so easily invade.

He was silver haired, blue eyed, and always decked in expensive fabric and jangling jewels. Precisely the sort of eccentric one might expect to purchase a manor of death.

The place came with a few gardeners who would not stay long, a devil of a butler, a pretty maid, and... as the flashy lord called him, a mangy mutt.

Rio Ortiz and the new lord of the manor got along like two wolves who were certain there was not room in the pack for the other.

Even so, Miss Emma found that he was rather like an abused dog. Rough around the edges, quick to bite, but in need not of a kennel, but of affection.

Now, after the horrible incident between her second fiancé and the vanished brother, Luke's manic worryings had began to influence her. She too now thought she saw shadows of the lost brothers. She, too, whispered conversations to them, whether to comfort herself or because she really thought they were there, even she could not say.

Despite these odd proclivities, Miss Emma was kind and gentle, witty and diligent. And all who met her came to admire her.

Just so, the new Lord Silvio came to like the one woman who could match him. The one who could see through his bite to hear the whimper in his bark.

And he fell, hard. He showered her with gifts and jewels. So many jewels.

Determined to make her the new mistress of his new land, he acquired a (rather gaudy) ring of sapphire and pearl.

However, he and Mr. Ortiz were desperately at odds with one another. The latter was like a ferocious guard dog towards the lovely lady, and thoroughly disapproved of the haughty lord trying to claim her.

Fearful that indeed, Silvio's intention was more to punish him than out of genuine affection, Rio dared to take drastic measures to protect his damsel.

One night, as the new lord held a stunningly ostentations banquet, he made his way to the centre of the vast dining hall to make an announcement.

He held up a velvet box with a sapphire ring, offering it, and his love, to Miss Emma.

But no sooner had she risen from her chair in shock, a tragedy occurred.

The grand chandelier in the centre of the grand space, where the jewel-decked lord stood... fell.

All of the candles in the space went out at once. A great blessing (or strategy?) to hide the guests and the poor, poor lady from the distressing sight.

Within seconds, Rio was there to whisk her away from the scene.

And thus ended the brief but brilliant era of the Ricci's ownership of the mansion.

Alas, poor Miss Emma began to spend more time up in the attic, going there to read and pace and stare at the never used white dress and a row of rings.

There grew a sort of shrine. A yellow diamond ring, an odd clay figure, a cookbook, a romance novel, a belt with wolf's fur, a pair of whiskey glasses, a ruby ring, a small teddy bear, and now, a sapphire ring.

From the small attic window, she could see many of the wings of the mansion, watching at midnight as lights would come on in unused rooms. Figures would pace in offices and libraries.

She was sure of it.

Not long after the tragic and spectacular death of Lord Silvio, another wealthy man approached the place.

His own inheritance he'd given to his sister, but now felt too adrift. He sought a new home and new purpose. And helping the Rhodolite region recover from its leadership troubles seemed an appropriate use of his hard won skills.

His name was Keith Howell. Tall and broad shouldered, awkward as he was elegant.

But there was something decidedly odd about him. Even Mr. Noir would stare at the man as though something was amiss. Something...

He was often kind and sweet and indeed overly apologetic. But then, sometimes...

Miss Emma discovered that he had another side to him. Late one night, she found him in one of the ballrooms.

"Mr. Howell. Were you playing the organ in here?"

He turned to her in the dark room, the moonlight catching on his golden eyes.

"What are you talking about? You were the one playing, weren't you? Why would you try to trick me after all I've done for you?"

Although he smiled, there was an edge to it that made her freeze like a doe.

"I.. did not mean..."

He approached her, getting far closer than usual. Lifting her chin with a finger, he said, "It's naughty to play tricks."

She watched him leave, but a few moments later, a loud chord of the organ trilled, sending her off at a sprint.

She liked Mr. Howell, but sometimes, it was like he was a different person entirely.

While she liked him, her ever faithful guard dog Rio, did not. He did not trust the man at all.

And within a month, the whole region stirred with the news that yet another murder had happened at the manor.

The man was found stabbed in his study, botany books and ledgers all around.

The lady was numb as the police came in force, investigating the place high and low for days. Countless interviews of her, Rio, and Sariel.

She wondered if Keith had been killed by someone on business at the mansion? While he was often obsequious, he could at times be... forceful.

Even so, a stag antler necklace made its way to her little shrine.

There she sat and pondered it all.

Chevalier had been murdered by Clavis in a fit of rage.

Nokto had lost a duel.

Jin had fallen victim to poison meant for another.

Leon had been killed by Luke in a fit of madness.

Silvio had likely been murdered by a jealous guest at his own party.

Luke had disappeared to god knows where, never to return.

All the others, Clavis, Yves, and Licht, had died in tragic, if mysterious, accidents.

But, of them all, the murder of Mr. Howell bothered her in a unique way. Somehow, this felt more... wrong.

As her mind swirled with conundrums and grief, the evening moonlight rose, and mist coalesced in the attic. The temperature dropped enough to make her shiver.

The sight of a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her in the mirror made her scream bloody murder.

The very image of Silvio was reflected there, dalmatian fur and all.

"He did this! He killed us!"

His voice was distant and echoey. She could not understand.

"What? Who killed you?"

The apparition raged, slamming his fists against the mirror as though he was trapped inside it.

"That damn dog! It's in the chest he brought! Find it!"

Her mind raced. "Dog... Rio? The chest he brought?"

She recalled that Mr. Ortiz had evidently arrived to the mansion with only a single small trunk. All his worldly possessions had fit inside.

Her heart clamoured. Could her overprotective fellow servant had possibly killed both Lord Silvio and Keith?

Horrified by the possibility, she rushed to his room. He was not around.

And so she slipped in, standing on her tiptoes to get down the small trunk off the top of his wardrobe.

And... oh, poor dear Miss Emma when she saw what laid inside.

A beautiful old coat, finely made. A velvet box. A dagger sheath, gilded in gold and sapphires and citrine.

And the sheath's intended occupant. With bits of blood not properly cleaned off of it. Fresh enough to not have oxidized to near black as old blood ought to have.

"Oh! Miss Emma! What are you-"

He froze, horrified beyond words as she slowly turned around, her face soaked with tears, and trembling hands holding a dagger.

Scrambling to not lose her favour, he rushed to her. "Y-you must understand! That Silvio was a horrible person! He only wanted to punish me, he didn't really love you! And Kieth was dangerous! I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting you!"

She shoved him away, letting the knife clatter to the ground. "I loved them!" she screamed.

Silence fell over them.

"I did... I loved them all. They were strange and sometimes scary but they were kind and I trusted them and I... loved them all."

She fell to her knees, as did he.

They cried together. "I just wanted to protect you! Oh, Emma... could you have ever loved me?"

Rage and grief filled her eyes. "I did, Rio. I did."

She got up and stormed out of the room, and he collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. His hands balled into fists just inches away from the cursed dagger.

Darkness fell over the mansion that night. A darkness that would never again lift in the light of day.

Unaware of Emma's secret hideout and shrine in the attic, the obsessive attendant went up into the darkness.

A rope was hung.

As the clock struck one, his body swung.

Once again, the police arrived. This time, Mr. Noir had to lock her in her room as she screamed and cried.

He presented to them the dagger, and the body of the murderer.

And it was over.

Everything was over.

As Miss Emma wailed and raved into the day, she found her way up to the attic, unaware of what had happened there in the night.

She fell to her knees in front of the mirror. Lying beside it was the wedding dress.

Manic to the point of madness, she stripped her clothes and put on the slightly yellowed dress. She took the three rings from the altar and put them on whatever fingers they would fit.

Diamond, ruby, and sapphire glittered in the dim light of a single candle.

She wailed their names. All of them.

Until she saw them in the mirror. She was no stranger now to such apparitions.

"Leon! Chevalier!"

Rushing over to it, she clutched onto the frame, her tears obscuring their sadly smiling faces.

"Emma..."

"Simpleton. Stop struggling."

"We love you. Never forget that."

As their faces faded, she screamed.

"Come back! Don't leave me alone! You all left me alone! I can't..."

Once her sobbing left her gasping for breath, exhaustion overcame her.

And through the new silence, a steady sound could be heard.

Tap. Tap. Tap of a cane.

"Little rabbit, it's upsetting to see you like this."

She whirled around to see him perched casually on top of an old chest, his legs crossed.

"Gilbert!"

He smiled at her. "Would you like to hear a story, bunny?"

With a tiny nod of her head, he grinned, and began.

"Once upon a time, these lands were distant from early civilization. Pagan druids were the only ones who dared come so far into the nothingness. They performed profane rituals and spells here, intended to curse the souls of evil kings and warriors. Trapping them in this valley until the end of time.

"But when the cemeteries and crypts were built out here, those poor souls were captured by the same ancient spells. The restless ones were confined to the land, including that of this mansion."

Gilbert sighed and smiled the most chillingly dark smile the lady had ever seen him wear.

"Did you have any idea? Your little dog became the 999th soul bound to this place. Funny, that miserable poor sap before him counted for two souls. Did you know?"

He stood and plopped a hand onto her hair, smoothing it down. "The curse is said to be breakable once one thousand souls have been damned here. I wonder if it's true. Anyway, why don't you wear that dress of yours to the party tonight, little rabbit?"

"...Party?"

His red eye glittered, and so did his other eye, ghostly blue underneath as he lifted away his eyepatch. "Yes. The one you hear every night. You should join us. They're so miserable without you."

"...Who is?"

"Who do you think? Me! And the others too, I guess."

With a twirl of his cane and a twisted sort of smile, he turned to leave.

"There's always room for one more~"

Poor Miss Emma's head spun. Whatever was the apparition talking about? He wasn't real, he never had been! Right...?

She paced and cried and sobbed. She put on the stag necklace from the altar and flipped through the cookbook.

She muttered to herself with the strange little clay figure, teddy bear, and the fluffy wolf fur clutched to her chest.

And then she saw it.

A rope coiled up off to the side that hadn't been there before. Tied on one end was a perfect loop for a noose.

And thus the heartbroken lady spun into the darkness once and for all.

...

…

…

"...Emma."

She knelt there in the attic, tears marring her face.

She knew that voice. As well as any other. She loved that voice.

But she was tired of his mysteries and deflections. Sitting in a pool of white fabric, she looked up at him in the doorway.

"Tell me who you really are, Sariel."

Frozen momentarily, his walls crumbled. "I suppose you deserve the truth."

He knelt in front of her, agony evident in his violet eyes.

"I made a deal with the devil ages ago. My father. When I found this place, I simply stayed here. Then a local lord, the princes' father, was destined for hell, and I decided to stay and look after his sons. However fantastic, that is the truth."

He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It may forever be my greatest regret that I could not protect you, my dear. But it will be my honour to care for you here. Come now, let us leave this dreary place behind."

He helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders to steer her out the door so that she did not catch sight of her body dangling from the rafter.

He took her back to her room and threw open the armoire. "Let's get you dressed for a ball, hm? You'll be the Belle of the ball tonight and every night."

Tired and dazed, feeling numb at last, she agreed, letting him help her into a fine gown. He fixed her hair and adorned her in jewels to accompany the three stones she still wore on her elegant hands.

And together, they descended the stairs, the music and voices of the party louder than ever.

The doors opened for them, and the crowd fell into whispers.

And standing at the front of that crowd were many familiar faces.

She gasped, tears welling in her eyes. Just as she was about to run to them, a man in black stepped in front of her.

"Ah! Gilbert!"

He smiled at her. And it seemed somehow more genuine than ever before.

"Welcome, little bunny. This party tonight is just for you. Won't you let me have the first dance?"

"...I suppose the host ought to have the first dance."

As they whirled on the dance floor amidst dresses of all styles and eras, he grinned at her.

"How happy I am to have you here to play with, at long last."

A man in red tapped on his shoulder. "Might I cut in?"

"Leon!"

He smiled at her as brilliantly as the sun, pulling her into his arms without waiting for a response.

"I'm so happy to see you looking so happy, sweetheart," he beamed.

Tears not of grief, but joy glittered on her cheeks. "I can't believe you're really here!"

"Yes. We're here. And we're all together, Em."

But as they spun to the music, her smile faded.

She knew.

Her voice was small.

"Leon... I'm dead aren't I?"

He took a breath, holding her tightly. And yet a kind smile made its way to his lips.

"Today may have been the day you died, but you have brought all of us to life in a way we never knew even while still alive. You have brought us such joy, and I promise you, this is not the end."

He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Together we will make an afterlife worth living."

... The End ...

VERSION 2

(From where every suitor was going to have a belle. Too much hassle killing off THAT many people lol)

...

Sariel Noir. He had lured each of the victims into the castle over the years, desperately hoping to placate the vicious spirits of his many masters. But now, his own soul grew ravenously restless. He required a mate of his own to tame and soothe his tortured soul.

The castle was host to precisely 999 spirits.

But there was room for one more.

[2broschlininahotub]

I had this thought of the masked fools and Sampo. What if Sampo was a member of the masked fools. I thought that if he was a masked fool what kinda mask would he wear. I thought that he would wear a clown mask. It would have some details that makes it look like a tragedy. How does this au connect with yandere? My idea is that Sampo would make a tragedy look like a comedy as some sort of demented artist who sees murder as his art. You his greatest fan will get to see his Magnum opus the piece of resistance. All of rivals stitched up corpses and a ring made of their fingers as the engagement ring. His twisted love for you is everyone that would get in the way of your true love would become beautiful something that was so ugly( his rivals) are now turned into magnificent art.

I will tag @gxmblinqueen and @yandere-romanticaa on what do you think of this.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Do I have to go to horny jail if I ask for: "Give me a chance to prove what I can make you feel" for vaxleth? 😏😏

"give me a chance. to prove what i can make you feel." lol what do you mean go to horny jail??? bold of you to assume they ever let you out going vamp machina again bc this au is making me feral

The mistake was not in inviting him in the first time. The first time, she didn't know better, didn't choose her words carefully enough, was so happy to have a guest over that she said the words without a second thought.

The mistake was in each and every time she invited him in after she learned the truth. The mistake was in the curl of his smile, the flash of teeth in the moonlight as he asked to be let in, even though he didn't have to, even though the first time was enough. What kind of torment is that, to continue to ask her to do what she knows she shouldn't, when he could just take what he wants for himself?

(What does it mean, that he asks, always asks, always waits so patiently for her answer, never assumes, never takes what isn't given? What does that make him, compared to all the other men who aren't monsters, yet who cannot seem to exert the kind of discipline that he can?)

The mistake is in this very moment, when they are behind the closed door of her bedroom, when her breath sounds as loud as a hurricane, when he sits so composed, so calm on the edge of her bed, looking for all the world like it is the only place he has ever belonged. She herself paces a line, the window to the door and back again, hands wringing in front of her as she steadfastly avoids the intensity of his gaze.

"Can I ask you a question?" His voice, low, measured, seems to echo around the room, twist around her shoulders and pull her to a standstill. He is lounged back atop her bedspread, picturesque in the silver light from behind her.

"Okay." Maybe if he speaks, she won't have to think so much.

"What are you afraid of?"

Oh, where to begin. Her eyes dart around the room, to the door, to the window—but she isn't looking for escape. No, she is worried that either will burst open, that all of her mistakes will suddenly, violently be on display, that the world will learn of the rumbling hunger in her belly, the searing want in her veins.

"Let me try again." He stands, crosses over to her. He is so close, but he does not, will not touch her. "Are you afraid of me?"

The word no rings loudly in her ears, rattles her ribcage as if the floor beneath her were moments from collapsing. She shakes her head.

"Are you afraid of Percy?"

Percy. She closes her eyes. She wishes he hadn't said his name, hadn't reminded her of the betrayal she is committing each moment she is alone with him. Percy, whose pain goes so deep she cannot believe he will ever claw his way out of it. Percy, who found the grace inside of him to think of her like family, even after the tragedy, the loss. Percy, who can never know what she has done, what she is doing, what she wishes yet to do.

Cool fingers cup her jaw, and her eyes open. He is closer now, impossibly closer. "I cannot promise you that I am worth the risk." Her belly pulls taut at the gravel in his voice. "All I can ask is that you give me a chance. Give me a chance to prove what I can make you feel."

Is it even possible, for her to feel more than she already does? Is this part of the curse that he bears, the ability to make her feel so much that she is sure to dissolve, to disintegrate beneath his eyes, his lips, his hands until she rises into the night air like stardust?

She feels. She feels him in her chest, in her stomach, in her throat, along every inch of her skin. Such a curious cat, she is—she has to know. Her answer is a single, shaking breath.

"Please."

[its-xiu-ya-time]

> - ——>> <3 ~

well i suppose i should probably put this up here! here is my SVSSS hadestown au, with YQY as orpheus and SJ as eurydice. other casting choices are SQH as hermes (with a meta twist), bingge as hades, and SY/SQQ as persephone.

i state this in the notes, but to clarify the tags: qijiu is the main ship, bingyuan is there on the side but is still very important, and of course we have that moment of bingjiu when hades coaxes eurydice

alright, that's it! i hope you all enjoy it! <3

info + tags + summary and such below the cut!

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Major Character Death Category: M/M Fandoms: 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, Hadestown - Mitchell Relationships: Shěn Jiǔ | Original Shěn Qīngqiū/Yuè Qīngyuán, Original Luò Bīnghé/Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū, Original Luò Bīnghé/Shěn Jiǔ | Original Shěn Qīngqiū Characters: Shàng Qīnghuá, Shěn Jiǔ | Original Shěn Qīngqiū, Yuè Qīngyuán, Original Luò Bīnghé, Shěn Yuán | Shěn Qīngqiū Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Hadestown Fusion, Alternate Universe, Sad Ending, Tragedy, Love at First Sight, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Addiction, Character Death, Meta, Coercion, Song Lyrics

Summary:

In the middle of the night, a man sits hunched over his laptop, his legs propped up on his chair as he types away at the keyboard. The dim screen is the only light in the room, illuminating his face, reflecting in his round glasses.

(Once upon a time, there were two realms. Don’t ask where, brother, don’t ask when.)

He pauses for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keys, before he continues.

(It was the road to Hell, it was hard times—it was a world of immortals… and men.)

“It’s an old story,” he murmurs to himself. “It's an old tale from way back when…”

His ring finger taps the enter key twice, his brows furrowing.

“It’s an old story, and I’m gonna tell it again.”

***

Yue Qi looks back at Shen Jiu the one time he shouldn't have.

[impetuous-impulse]

Tagged by @cadmusfly.

Last Song: Napoleonically speaking, I read the last song I listened to (thanks to Victor Hugo). Le roi d'Yvetot is by Jean-Pierre de Béranger (1780-1857), a popular chansonnier. He was under Lucien Bonaparte's patronage for a bit. This song satirises Napoleon, and apparently Napoleon heard it one day and was like "haha funny". I found a record of it below.

There's also this recent version, which is clearer and more dynamic.

William Makepeace Thackeray made a translation of it, as seen here. Someone also posted the French text in the comments of the first song, so you can machine translate to get the literal meanings.

More generally, I've been on a nostalgia trip listening to older songs. Time-Forgotten One (時忘人) strikes me as apt for this blog, because the lyrics explore grief and survivor's guilt in a post-war context (with a twist at the end). Of his comrades, the singer muses:

Even though the long-drawn-out war has ended / where have they gone / have they gone to a land where no grass grows / and continued the fight there？/ I continue to wait for them

I remember fighting with comrade whom I could entrust my back to / Now I am the only one left on this street, where have the familiar faces gone？

Translations adapted from here (if you want to experience the story in its glory). The creator hinayukki also posted a remake recently.

Currently Watching: Two reality TV shows, which I need to catch up on.

Three ships: Any kind of ship, right? Not my favourite or anything? Okay. I define shipping by two people interacting with and reacting to each other intensely, whatever that may mean. The following are some I would actively promote.

Ney/Soult: From comrades and work friends to "bitter rivals" (and scholars continue their feud). I love a good friends to rivals/enemies to something else, and their historical relationship gives me so much material to work with. You can create something very historically-compliant and trace various narratives depending on what you focus on. Desaix/Saint-Cyr: Two giants who respected each other equally and were intimate friends (to the point of using "tu" with each other). Hot/cold foils (commented on contemporaries and later writers). There is also some tragedy in outliving one of your closest friends (of which you have so few), ascending to a higher rank than he did in life, while disliking the institution who bestowed the accolades upon you. Bernadotte/Brahe: This is just here for how codependent they were. Bedside counselling deep into the night? Brahe having a room of Bernadotte statues? Matching rings with braided hair? So much potential.

Honourable shout-out to Jourdan/Kléber as a thought experiment of the ephemeral variety (I think my bias for the Rhine armies is showing). I would also like to mention [REDACTED] and [REDACTED], but I suspect it would get me dragged through the mud by fans of Ney (as he is represented in popular tradition), haha.

Favourite Colour: Gold and green, currently.

Currently consuming: The last food I had was vegetable broth.

First ship: In the Napoleonic fandom, it would be NapJuno (because of the plausibility).

Relationship status: Complicated

Last Movie: The Holdovers (2023). A good alternate Christmas Hallmark movie.

Currently working on: 1) The Ney and Soult Get-Along T-Shirt AU, where Ney escapes arrest with Soult's help post-Waterloo. Here's a WIP of it choked with purple prose to prove it isn't dead:

2) A Lannes WIP. 3) A non-Napoleonic fic that I desperately need to finish so I can be more active on here again.

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it—go ahead.

[whererubbermeetstheroad]

TW: emotional abuse. Above all else, please stay safe.

The Anthropologist (Part 2)

The Anthropologist — Part 1

[sixx-writes]

                  Room 208 | The Approach: I

Kurotsuchi Mayuri x Reader

Word Count: 3,679

cw: slow burn, dark content, future nsfw, modern au, surgeon!Mayuri, thief!reader, doctor kink

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: You and your partner decide to steal from a former surgeon who may not be all that he appears.

Pt. 1 | 2 | 3

"What's this guy's deal?" you said, taking another bite of your sandwich, "He really hasn't left his apartment in nine years? What the fuck's up with that."

Your friend and partner-in-crime, Shiki, opens up another article and starts to read out loud while you eyeball the picture accompanying it. A man with dark skin and gold eyes stares back into the camera dully from the moment the picture was taken. Beneath it reads ‘Kurotsuchi Mayuri’. The name rings a bell like maybe you'd heard it on the news at some point.

"Tragedy struck the famous surgeon on July 19th, 2014 when his adopted daughter, Kurotsuchi Nemu, was struck and killed by an oncoming car. But listen this is where it gets interesting," Shiki waggles his eyebrows before continuing, "In a bizarre twist the driver was later discovered to be none other than Pernida Parnkgjas wanted for questioning by police pertaining to a series of grisly murders in connection with the yakuza. He was later apprehended and freed only a few days later causing a public outrage."

There's another picture of Pernida, you assumed, with his arm raised in victory and a smug grin plastered across his face. He was getting into a car presumably after being released from prison. You notice how there's a  very distinctive tattoo of an eye on his palm.

"Oh yeah," you said, "I remember now. There was a riot or something, right? Protests?"

"Yeah. Didn't do shit though. Pernida is pretty much untouchable since he's the right hand man of Reio himself. Everybody knows he has the cops on his payroll."

"So he became a recluse after that? Poor dude," you finished off the last bite of your sandwich with a depressed sigh imagining what it would be like knowing that your daughter's killer was alive and well like nothing had ever happened.

"Well I hope you're not feelin’ too bad for him ‘cause you're gonna be the one that gets us inside. The guy's fuckin’ apartment is shut up tighter than a bank vault. He never leaves. I had a guy watchin' his place for like a month and he has everything delivered to his door."

"Why me? Why don't you just smash and grab the shit; what's up with the extra steps?"

"Because we also know he has top of the line security installed and God knows what else. Ya don't spend that long in isolation after some trauma like that and not become a paranoid fuck. We need this to play out smooth as a virgin pussy. There's a vacancy in the apartment next to his and you're moving in tomorrow."

Your eyes bulged in shock, "What the fuck Shiki. I haven't even said yes. Am I just a whore now? I seduce him and suck his cock until he falls asleep then scope out the place?"

"Something like that," Shiki smirked, "I get the feeling he ain't gonna be that easy. This guy's social life is non-existent. No visitors. Aside from the delivery men but he don't even talk to them just has everything left outside."

"Besides that how do you know that he has anything valuable in the apartment? Wouldn't all his money be in the bank?" you complained.

"Nope. He withdrew all of his savings according to my boy that just so happened to work at his bank. Said it was two big briefcases full of cash. Like some shit out of a movie."

"Ohh," you drawled, "You have a boy that worked at his bank. Well I'm sold."

"Hey, stop busting my balls, the info is good. My sources always come through. Ya know that."

"Oh really," you said with heavy sarcasm, "what about that convenience store last month?"

Shiki stiffened in embarrassment, "That's not.. I didn't know the guy was cheating on his wife with a fucking dude ok. How was I supposed to know they'd be humped over behind the counter going at it when they were supposed to be out for lunch."

"I don't know, man. That's kinda homophobic," you said with a straight face.

He threw a bottle cap at your head and you dodged it with a laugh.

Shiki helped you move your things to the new building located in a much nicer neighborhood than your own. You were a little nervous when you found out that yours and Mayuri's apartments were the only ones on the floor. You guessed it made sense if the guy was a recluse that he wouldn't want alot of noisy people stomping around all the time.

On the last trip up in the elevator you glanced over at Mayuri's door and thought you saw it was open just the tiniest crack before quietly shutting as soon as you noticed. The hall light reflected across the number on the door, 208, assuring you that it wasn't imagined. You shook it off and continued to pack your things inside completely worn out by the time you were finished.

"I think he was watching," you muttered after setting down the last box.

"What?"

"It's nothing," you said, waving it off, "it just looked like he was watching us. Earlier."

"So what? The dude’s a freak ah course he's goin' to check us out. Don't worry about it. As far as he knows you're just a girl lookin' for a fresh start."

"I am?"

"Well, make something up, obviously. I don't fuckin' know. Find some common ground fast and get inside that apartment."

After that you were alone surrounded by a few boxes of your things. You had decided against packing everything leaving most of your stuff at your other apartment and you hoped that Shiki wouldn't try stealing any of your panties that you had left behind in the dirty laundry. The two of you were roommates and long time friends but that didn't stop him from occasionally perving out.

You were too tired to unpack so you flopped onto the bed and looked for something to watch scrolling mindlessly through your feed. Seeing nothing of interest you typed 'Kurotsuchi Mayuri' into the search just to see what came up. Before becoming a recluse he'd received all sorts of awards and was one of the leading surgeons in Japan. You blinked at an image of him shaking hands with the Prime Minister. The guy was practically Buddha or something.

And you were going to steal from him.

You hoped that you wouldn't lose too much karma for your transgressions..

The only problem was you had no idea how to go about the approach. You couldn't exactly knock on the door without a reason and unfortunately there was virtually nothing on Mayuri's personal life or clues to his interests. Up until the death of his daughter it was just article after article praising his achievements as a surgeon. For you it was just annoying surface level shit that wouldn't help at all.

You closed the browser and lay back with your hands crossed behind your head running over different possibilities until your eyelids started to feel heavy and you drifted off.

A few days later you decided to make the first move, your idea is cliche at best and you cringe just thinking about it, but your brain is as dry as a desert on how to approach someone you know nothing about. You weren’t exactly the most experienced when it came to this kind of shit. You’d never interacted with the people you stole from until now always breaking in when they weren’t home.

You prepared a simple dish of sukiyaki and filled a bowl before going next door and standing for several awkward seconds without knocking. You felt stupid like you had failed before trying but you force yourself to raise your arm. Before your hand connects with the wood you hear a soft sound from within making you pause.

"Yes?"

You can't hide your surprise at the sound of Mayuri's voice.

 Was he watching you the whole time you were standing outside doing nothing through the peephole?

"Um, hi, I just moved in next door-"

"Yes, I know. What do you want?"

You were sweating now, made uncomfortable by his directness and getting caught, you hadn't planned on him responding at all if you were being honest with yourself.

Stop overthinking you fucking idiot. Say something!

"W-Well, it's just I made some sukiyaki and I thought I'd bring you a bowl. Kind of like saying hello to my new neighbor.. or something."

"Are you a reporter?"

"Report..? No, I just moved in.. I'm in 207," you repeated hesitantly mentally stomping your own foot for saying your apartment number when it was the only other room on the floor. More importantly it had been nine years since the incident. Why the hell would he think you were a reporter? Did he believe they were still looking for him?

A long silence then, "Leave it outside."

You gave an awkward little bow leaving the steaming bowl in the hall before retreating into your own apartment with your tail between your legs. You had no idea if that could be considered a success but it was a start. You listened intently and heard the door click softly, opening after the jangle of several locks being undone.

He was definitely a weird one that was for sure.

                                                         ⛧

You had plans later that day to take care of some errands and you were on your way out when you noticed a large insect batting against the window at the end of the hall. You furrowed your brow in confusion at the sight of it moving in for a closer look and recognizing the skull marking on it's back right away. You hadn't seen one of these since your mother was alive and it sends a coil of nostalgic sadness through you. You're so distracted that you don't notice the door opening and closing behind you.

"Excuse me."

You gasp and turn in shock with your hand flying to cover your mouth in an overly dramatic way like you're some actress from the thirties. Mayuri is standing right next to you, his hooded eyes drifting from your face to the moth still trying to escape. He was much thinner than his photos and looked more tired, with dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair disheveled as if he'd just gotten out of bed.

He moved past you, not waiting for you to get out of the way, the fabric of his robe brushing against your skin as he captures the moth carefully with a small net.

"It's yours?" you blurt.

"Obviously," he twists the fabric so it can't fly back out making a pocket in the netting.

"Do you raise them or something? It's just I know that moth. It's a Death's Head, right? It's the European species if I remember right because it has more yellow on the wings."

Mayuri slows on the way by humming thoughtfully, "Interesting. It's unusual for someone to notice the difference. Do you have an interest in entomology?"

"Oh, well, not exactly. It was my mom, actually; she used to show me her books on moths and butterflies when I was little. The Death's Head was my favorite. I thought the skull was cool. I had a poster of it on the wall of my old bedroom for years with the different types. So, it's kinda burned into my mind I guess.. haha."

You were painfully aware that you were rambling now but Mayuri didn’t seem bothered. Just gazed at you intently, listening until you were finished, making you blush self consciously.

“Um, I have to..” you trailed off implying that you had to go when he didn’t say anything else.

“Yes, excuse me.”

After showering that night, you noticed that Shiki had texted you and you unlocked your phone to see what he wanted.

 S: Well? Have you made first contact?

You rolled your eyes at his wording.

 R: He's not an alien Shiki. And yeah I just spoke to him not too long ago, actually.

 S: Annnd what's he like? Is he fuckable?

 R: If you mean in the sense of tricking him into letting us steal his shit then I have no idea. It was kind of creepy tbh.

 S: Whoaa for any agents reading this conversation that's a joke ;)

 R: ...

 R: Anyway it's late I'll text you more tmrw asshat

 S: Love u too cuutie<3

Shiki was pissing you off with his entirely flippant attitude towards the situation while you had an uneasy feeling ever since first meeting the doctor. Your gut was telling you that something was off about this guy. You didn’t like the way Mayuri looked at you. It was more like he was looking through you.

He unsettled you more than most of the seedy people you had dealings with when it came to your ‘work’.

You made an oath to yourself the next time you and Shiki went after a high profile target Shiki would be the whore.

Things continued like that, little exchanges here and there, you made it a routine to cook for Mayuri on the weekends and occasionally during the week. You hoped that the way to a man's trust was through his stomach or however that stupid saying went. After being cooped up for almost a month you met with Shiki at the usual restaurant ordering your favorite dish while the lanky thief slid into the seat across from you.

He was wearing a tank top that showed off his tattoo sleeve, something you'd always told him was a dumb idea, yet he insisted it made him look more intimidating. It just made him look more like a criminal and easier to identify.

"Put that out, you moron," you hissed when he slid a cigarette from the pack and dangled it between his lips about to light it.

"Chill, babe. I know the owner. Didn't I ever tell ya about that?"

"No."

With perfect timing the waiter returned to the table his eyes nervously darting between the tattoos on Shiki's arm and the cigarette, "Sir, you can't smoke in here."

"Eh? Listen, I'm friends with the owner just ask him."

"I'm not saying that you're a liar, sir, but I'm afraid the owner isn't here today and the other guests are complaining."

Shiki let out a deep sigh, gusting smoke in the waiter's face, before dropping the cigarette in the pitcher he was holding, "What is this? Shit on Shiki Day? Whatever. Fuck both of ya."

You roll your eyes in irritation from the obnoxious display, "Can you not."

"I'll not when ya stop being a bitch about everything I do."

You give him the finger and hear a disgusted noise from the table next to yours choosing not to acknowledge who made it.

"How's it going with Doctor Frankenstein anyway. Has he fingered ya yet," Shiki said taking a large bite of his food.

"It's going nowhere like I said before in the texts. The guy obviously doesn't trust anyone and I can't say that I blame him."

"Oh, that reminds me," Shiki spoke with a mouthful of unchewed noodles, "I have a guy that knows a guy in the yakuza. So this guy says that a week after the trial Pernida up and disappears. Reio was fuckin' pissed. Search and destroy type ah shit ya know, thinkin' it was a rival family. But it was like Pernida just vanished without a trace and no one ever came forward to claim the hit."

You blinked, "They never found him? I didn't see anything about it anywhere."

"Well obviously not. There's not exactly a yakuza newsletter. One of your top generals goes missing, presumably murdered, and on top ah that ya can't find the one responsible to take retribution so it makes ya look weak. Incompetent. So the info was kept to the inner circle. Only the highest ranking members know what actually happened."

"So, what exactly are you getting at here?" you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"What I'm getting at is that this doctor withdraws all of his money around the same time Pernida is," Shiki makes a swipe across his throat to finish the sentence.

"You think that he put a hit on Pernida? I don't really follow."

"I think I don't know what I think."

"You didn't think to ask a friend of a guy of a friend about this until now?"

"Well, maybe it's nothing. Jesus Christ, woman. Just thought I'd tell ya. The guy may not be as perfect as he seems from the outside. I do care about ya even though you're a bitch to me. Just be careful."

Yeah, no shit, you thought. You hadn’t told Shiki how you really felt about Mayuri. Not when you weren’t entirely sure yourself.

You scoffed, standing from the table having finished your meal, "Let me know if you find out anything else."

You gave an ironic salute on the way out and Shiki rolled his eyes.

You were just about to go into your apartment when the sound of someone’s throat being cleared stopped you. You glanced in the direction of Mayuri's door and found it open with the surgeon waiting for you.

"This may seem sudden but would you like a cup of tea? I've just prepared a fresh pot. I knocked earlier but you were out," Mayuri said.

Uneasiness washed over you and you forced a smile, "I would love to. Let me put my bag inside."

You were a whirlwind inside the apartment, throwing off your jacket and bag. You adjusted your hair in the mirror and checked for any food stuck in your teeth before calming yourself down and heading next door.

Mayuri's apartment was modern and very clean; almost horrifyingly so for someone as untidy as you. Every surface looked like it was wiped down daily. Identical to your apartment he also had a balcony on the opposite side of the building so plenty of sunlight came in through the glass doors. A kotatsu sat not far from it with it's blanket removed for the warmer weather and on top was two ceramic tea cups and a teapot.

You and Mayuri sat opposite of each other and you poured yourself a glass of green tea enjoying the floral hints mingling with the steam not familiar with the blend he had used.

"How is it?" he asked.

"It's really good. Thank you for inviting me."

"Not at all. You have been so kind to me after all. I thought it was time I returned the favor," Mayuri smiled revealing perfectly straight white teeth before taking a small sip from his own glass. You noticed that his right ear was pierced with twin gold hoops that glittered in the light catching your eye.

You inconspicuously take in little details of your surroundings when you think he isn't looking, searching for anything odd. Mayuri had several paintings that could hide a safe behind them although the paintings themselves looked like they were worth quite a bit on their own. There were a variety of other potentially valuable things neatly displayed on shelves and tables proving that Mayuri still liked to indulge in the finer things.

"See something that interests you?"

You tried not to look guilty before answering, "I was wondering where you keep your moths?"

"Ah, that's right. I keep them in there," he gestures to the room adjacent to the one you're in. It's too dark for you to see anything and you squint trying to make your eyes adjust.

"Would you like to see?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

 If it let you see more of the apartment then by all means..

You followed Mayuri inside where he flipped on the light and revealed a room filled with various enclosures, each with a different species of butterfly or moth. Your near childish excitement was real as you wandered around taking a closer look at each. The diurnal species each had a light on their enclosure where they fluttered around in various states of activity.

"Holy shit, aren't these Blue Morphos? And this is a White Witch?"

"Indeed. You do know your species," Mayuri affirmed.

There were several rare species that you recognized, some still in their larval states, munching contentedly at the leaves given to them. It would have been your wet dream at one point in your life to have this setup.

"This one is my favorite," Mayuri called out and you went to his side, curiously.

On a table all by itself was a tall specimen jar and inside was-

"Oh," your knees felt wobbly and you stumbled against the wall clutching at your head. You felt overwhelming dizziness wash over you and your limbs grew heavy.

"Are you alright?"

The concern in Mayuri's voice would have been believable under any other circumstances were it not for the arm floating in the jar next to him with a very recognizable eye tattoo on it's palm.

"What did you put in my fucking tea?"

The muscles in your legs gave out and you collapsed to the floor against the wall. Mayuri lowers himself into a crouching position to join you his arms rested on top of his knees.

He tilts his head assessing your condition before his slender fingers grip your chin forcing you to look into his eyes, "Who do you work for?"

"I don't work for anyone," you mumbled. Your tongue wasn't working properly and the words came out slurred.

You felt like you were having the worst trip of your life and Mayuri's grin was scaring the shit out of you. He was perfectly at ease with what was happening. That's how you knew just how fucked you were.

The severed arm that he keeps in the butterfly room might have been the first red flag..

"What is your true purpose here?"

"Let me go," you begged, "I won't tell anyone."

Mayuri chuckled sending shivers up your spine, "I'm certain that you won't."

[septic-skele]

UT - A Splint for the Splintered

Summary: Grillby and Alphys, representatives of the starship Determination, bring peace offerings to a planet ravaged by war.

A/N: Written for the @au-roulette 2024. The AU I've been assigned is Space Exploration!

Grillby had seen many planets and species in his time—at their lowest lows, face to face on a slew of battlefields during the War of Worlds, and now finally on an upward trajectory ever since joining the crew of the U.S.S. Determination. His mere presence here as a culinary specialist was what the humans called an “olive branch”, a gesture that they were willing to work closely with Pyrovite and other affected worlds to rebuild what the war had broken.

The majority of the Determination crew was human, of course (such was the right of the victors, to outnumber the conquered) but the sparse number of alien faces Grillby greeted in the mess hall were tinged with a sense of relief. Even if they weren’t equals, even if they were swept off on away missions any chance the humans got to keep them out of sight and mind, they were technically instruments of progress, of peace.

Maybe that idea had made it easier to get comfortable, complacent and put the ugliest memories of the fallout behind them. It wasn’t so easy now with the ruins of Scelta looming on the shuttle view screens. Grillby had always been the quiet sort but staring at this tragedy, he couldn’t have found the words even if he wanted to. The scientific advisor, Alphys, swallowed with audible difficulty in the seat beside him.

“I-I knew it was bad…really, really bad but…he didn’t say it was…” She trailed off, claws tightening against the armrests.

Alphys and Grillby had only ever met one Sceltan over the course of the war, a former scientist who had mentioned The Great Breaking of his planet with stiff, cool, clinical detachment in his voice. Clearly he had a knack for understatement.

It was a pale, hollow half of a world, crippled, cavernous, its remaining plates precariously splinted in an artificial gravity ring—the humans’ work, a bargaining chip in exchange for a share of Scelta’s precious few remaining resources.

It wasn’t fair of them to ask. It wasn’t even kind, knowing the Sceltans literally had so little ground upon which to refuse, but the trade could only go through if the refugees inhabitants survived long enough to sign it. For that they would need rations, medical supplies; as part of today’s away team, that was Grillby and Alphys’ job.

Nothing but a bitter, biting wind was there to greet them when they stepped onto the planet’s cracked crust. Grillby had to duck briefly back into the mouth of the shuttle as his flame whipped and crackled defensively against the chill, while Alphys’ shiver was due more to her nerves.

“Okay, well, um…if this is the place, we better start unloading the supplies. So let’s…do that. I h-hope someone knows they have to come and pick them up…”

Unloading everything wasn’t as easy as they had hoped. Beyond the relative sturdiness of their designated landing site, the ground was even more fragile than first glances would have them believe, buckling underneath the cargo’s weight. Back and forth, here and there, to and fro they had to relocate each shipment and find the perfect balancing act until they could be sure it wouldn’t sink into the soft, sponge-like tissues beneath the surface.

“T-These pockets of s-sediment reminds me a little of the marshlands on Quatali,” Alphys remarked somewhere amidst her stream of chatter to fill Grillby’s apparently awkward silence. “Oh, you weren’t part of first contact on Quatali, were you? That’s where the team met Undyne. The Quatali p-people call her The Lady of the Lower Lakes; she was their sort of legendary hero, a guardian of the water, so when the team t-tried to collect samples, h-hoo boy, she was as mad as a—aahh!”

Grillby whirled around just in time to see her lunge back, foot twisting into one of the surface pockets as her tail lashed for balance and scattered a pile of ration packs in every direction. Abandoning his stack of boxes, Grillby was quick to maneuver her back onto stable ground. As soon as she was upright, she clutched at her chest, letting out a quick, chittering squeal in her home tongue before stuttering to return to Common.

“Oh, wow! Sorry, sorry about that but t-that really startled me!”

Grillby followed her gaze and found that just as he had a securing hold on his teammate, there was a small Sceltan boy with tense, protective arms wrapped around another taller one who, unlike Alphys, was already squirming to be set loose. Once he was back on his feet, he rattled various bones emphatically at the newcomers, wringing his hands out, rolling his shoulders and then knocking his knees together.

Alphys shook her head hesitantly. “I-I’m sorry again but I don’t really understand. Do you…Can you use Common Speech? Has anyone taught you?” The slimmer child merely cocked his head in return, looking just as uncertain.

“… …Apologies,” Grillby said softly, earning another small jump from her at his still unfamiliar voice. He was far more practiced at observing and translating body language. “… …For scaring you.”

“…Oh! It’s okay, it’s fine, n-no harm done!” Alphys brushed it off with a nervous laugh before pulling her tail in closer for containment as she bent to recollect the fallen ration packs. After a moment of thought she held one out to them. “Um, are you hungry? We were bringing these for you anyway.”

Lighting up, the taller one jumped at the offering but the shorter one must have been more agile than he looked; it seemed in the span of a blink he shortcut ahead and swiped it first.

“H-Hey! You don’t have to do that, there’s plenty for everyone,” Alphys protested as the taller one clacked his teeth and stomped a foot in frustration, barely fazed when he then had to shake it loose from another surface pocket. His companion—his brother?—didn’t tear greedily into the meal, however; he rolled it cautiously over in his hands a few times, apparently to assess the packaging, and then pried open only a tiny corner to sniff at it.

“… …Burger,” Grillby informed him, even if he didn’t understand. It was as close to an Earth burger as a Pyrovite cook could guesstimate, at least; his human crewmates hadn’t complained thus far. Was it safe and acceptable for Sceltans to eat? The small one seemed optimistic at the scent, nodding to Grillby and Alphys in what was probably thanks before holding it back up for the other to sniff too. Once he caught a note of the grease oozing from that torn corner, the tall one balked instantly, swatting it away with obvious distaste.

“You don’t like it? T-That’s okay! Like I said, there’s plenty. I-I’m sure we’ll find something for you too, um…you.” Naturally he didn’t respond to that, too busy looking on with envy as his brother started enjoying the burger to himself, and Alphys bit her lip. “Are these really the…I don’t know, pickup boys? Why would they send children to meet us, children who don’t even know Common?”

Perhaps in the aftermath of The Break, none of the adults were in any condition to make the trip to the landing site themselves. Perhaps there were no adults left in this area to come. Grillby’s grim thoughts wouldn’t be particularly useful right now so he pushed them aside, picking up a couple more ration packs to offer the taller boy. Having had his hopes dashed by the burger, he eyed them distrustfully for several seconds before snatching the sweet-and-spiced brown egg meal.

“I feel bad. It doesn’t feel like we can do business p-properly when we don’t even know each other’s names!” Alphys fretted. “What do we say? How do we say it? Our body languages are totally different; we’re flesh and fire, not bones! Do we use sign?”

“… …Signs,” Grillby echoed, flame snapping in the wind with inspiration as he spun on his heel to grab the data pad resting on a stack of nearby crates. Backing out of the inventory catalogue, he tapped indicatively at the communication settings bar. “… …Symbols.”

During his all-too-brief time with them, the doctor had given a written statement backing his account of The Break for the Determination’s historical record, which meant a font familiar to at least one Sceltan had been recorded. Even if they couldn’t speak a Common language, it was worth a shot to see if the boys identified a font in which to write.

Upon flashing the screen with the doctor’s chosen font at them, the taller boy perked up, while the shorter one went completely still. Grillby couldn’t help but notice his jaw clenching minutely, mid-bite. That said, positive or negative, their reactions appeared to serve as recognition.

“Alphys,” she enunciated clearly for them, tracing the letters she had typed and magnified onscreen before pointing at her face. “Alphys.”

“… …Grillby.”

“A-And now you are…?”

Promptly shoving his open ration pack into the crook of his brother’s arm, either uncaring or oblivious when the mashed egg and grains spilled, the taller one accepted the pad eagerly. His inexperienced mashing at the screen must have turned some settings on and off because when he flipped it back toward them, the message came in oddly punctuated, multilingual chunks.

His earnest grin was infectious; Grillby crackled warmly and Alphys, with a small sigh of relief, returned a smile of her own.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

[breadoffoxy]

Study Buddies

Summary: The I know bodies let me teach you anatomy with a twist!

Pairing: Namjoon x n. Reader

Genre: Humor, College AU

Rating: R

Warnings: Bondage, thigh riding, implied hand job, implied sex, dom!Reader, sub!Namjoon, language Word Count: 3,666

A/N: The latest fic to ever fic for @jinpanman​! I’m so sorry for how late this is, but I sincerely hope you enjoy it. I tried writing this in a different style so I also hope it is ok! 

It was early, too early, but you have a report to finish this morning and you stayed up too late studying… and catching up on My Hero Academia, but alas that’s not the point! The point is that it is too early and it sucks balls. If only you liked this fabled magical coffee. To you, it’s gross and you never understand how your classmates can gulp it down as if it’s water. Now water, that stuff is great!

The only coffee you can stand is from the little gas station off of university and whatever that other street is. Floyd or Lloyd?? They were back to back, literally the worst possible street planning ever, but anywho, the little gas station. It was a pretty standard run of the ordinary gas station. Nothing special except it’s on the way to your building on campus and that it has far cheaper coffee than any coffee shop ever, at least that you’ve heard of. You’re a college student, despite what capitalism thinks, you have no money.

Dragging yourself inside, you make a beeline towards the coffee counter. The student worker at the counter doesn’t even bother to look up at your entrance, eyes glued on their phone. Even still, you angle yourself so your back blocks their view of you pumping extra shots of French Vanilla creamer into your little cappuccino cup. You take a test sip of the overly sweet drink and quickly add one more pump. Perfect.

The card reader is fussy when you check out and have to reinsert your card. You shift your weight impatiently as the system slowly finishes ringing up. You stare awkwardly in silence at the card reader as the worker stares awkwardly in silence at the register…

…

…

“Would you like your receipt with that?”

Oh, thank God. “Nope, thanks!” and your zombie feet quickly carry you out of the store.

At least the weather is nice today, not too cold before winter comes in full force. As you walk down the empty campus sidewalks, you start to feel quite refreshed. Usually, you have to dodge bikers going way too fast or get stuck behind a group of students too busy talking or looking at their phones to notice you and scoot to the side like considerate people. Giddily, or maybe it’s all the coffee sugar in your system, you spread your arms wide as a nice breeze flows past you. The sound of leaves rustling, the wind in your hair, your hand smacking hard into something.

A man screams.

You scream. What the fuck!?

Quickly, you turn to see a man bent over slightly with his hands covering his face. Wow, would you look at the size of his arms and those pecs? That sleeveless training shirt should be banned because wooooow. Oh my god, how could you miss those thighs peeking out of his shorts? Who is this hunk of a man peeking over his fingers at you now? You take a sip of your drink, oh yeah, words.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Your hand comes to cover your mouth in a very delayed show of embarrassment and concern. “Are you ok?”

“Ah, yeah.” The man lowers his hands, though one does experimentally poke at his nose. He flinches but you sigh in relief that at least there’s no blood gushing out of his nose. That would have been horrific. “I’ll live.”

“That’s good to hear. It would be a tragedy if the world lost someone so hot.”

The man gawks at your blunt words and you hurriedly take a sip of your coffee. Wasn’t this stuff supposed to help your brain!? If it wasn’t so early you’d be mortified. The feeling is sure to hit you later in full force and you’ll spend the rest of the day sighing in a ball of gloom. For now though, “I really need to get to the library, I’m so so sorry! I totally owe you one ok!”

The man is as still as a statue as he stares where you just were. You dashed off before he could say a word. You were a whirlwind knocking him off balance, quick to leave as soon as you came. Or he came? Since he was the one doing his jog and was trying to pass you. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his short hair. What a weird morning.

A few days pass and your walk through campus was quite uneventful as you head to your anatomy class. Thank goodness, you keep cringing at the embarrassing scenario that happened. It’s a shame you never saw hot jogging man again but you are quite glad as you feel like you’d just melt into a puddle of embarrassment. 

The large theater room where the seminar class takes place is freezing as per usual. You rub your arms as you skip down the steps towards the middle of the room. Not too far to where you can still see the projector clearly but far away enough if you doze off no one will notice or care. The professor is smart and obviously talented, but his teaching method could use some work.

You plop down in your normal spot and take out your notebook, flipping through pages of colorful notes and doodles. Once reaching a blank page, you start scribbling something in a corner boredly until you feel that heavy feeling of someone staring at you. You glance up, worried the professor came in and is calling on you, not that he even knows who you are with all the students he has, but the front of the auditorium is still empty, the professor yet to show up. Instead, a few rows down and a little to the left you see a man staring at you, squinting behind thick rimmed glasses. A very familiar looking man.

Oh, shit!

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

It is hot jogging dude!

Anxiety freezes your insides as you stare back at the man you assaulted with your hand the other day. You were slow to recognize him because of his glasses and the bulky hoodie covering his buff form. He looked so soft that you would have no idea that he was hiding those glorious pecs under that hoodie if you didn’t see him in that tight tank top. Oh shit-

You slide down in your seat, but there’s no point in hiding now that he obviously knows you’re there. So you send him a little awkward wave and then point at your nose, mouthing the word ‘sorry’. 

He returns your little wave and then moves. You sigh in relief, but then have the urge to run when you notice him walking back across the row. Is he leaving because he was so embarrassed about the other day too? Oh, nope, looks like he’s heading down your row. Aw crap.

You bend your head down, pretending not to notice, and focus very hard on your doodle. You’re not even sure what you’re doodling, just doing the best you can to distract yourself, but the sound of a bag hitting the floor and cloth rusting has you looking up, right into the hot jogger man’s eyes.

“Hi.”

You blink your eyes as your brain reboots. His eyes are too pretty up close. Now he’s smiling at you. “Um…hi?” Why did it come out like a question!?

Rubbing the back of your neck, you hastily apologize again. “I’m so sorry for what happened the other day. Your nose is fine, right?”

He taps his nose without a flinch. “Told you I would live.”

“And I told you I owed you. Name your price.” You sit up, trying to show you were seriously sorry.

The man grins, nearly smirking, and adds “You also said I was hot.”

You instantly slouch down in your chair and hide your face in your hands. “I said I’m sorry! Please don’t torture me hot jogging man.”

The man laughs, a comforting sound that makes you peel your hands away to look upon his smile. He holds his hand out to you. “I’m Namjoon, though I guess hot jogging man works too.”

You take his hand, “Hello Namjoon, I’m bad with mornings and put my foot in my mouth.” You give Namjoon your name and try your best not to swoon when he repeats it back to you with a smile.

The lights dim and the professor, who you didn’t even notice had arrived and set up, starts the class. Namjoon sends you a flirty wink and drops your hand to attentively take notes. Your mind’s a blur the whole class and you can barely focus. Well you are focused, just not on the projector you are staring blankly at. All your attention is intently aimed at the man beside you. 

You fidget with the pen between your fingers and all too suddenly the lights seem to come back on. Class is over already? You stare at your blank notebook and then turn to see Namjoon’s pages filled out with messy but detailed notes. Crap.

“You really aren’t great with mornings.” Namjoon took notice of your blank notebook too.

“Yep, I’m awful with mornings and nothing else. No other reason to be distracted during this exhilarating class.”

Namjoon laughs at your sarcasm and turns his notebook towards you. “Write down your number and I can send you a picture of my notes.”

You could just take a picture with your phone now, but you decide to humor him. Plus, it’s not every day you give a person who is both hot and studious your number. “I owe you two times now,” you write your number in one of your colorful pens on top of the page along with your name. “Seriously, if you need anything, let me know.”

“It’s fine, I really don’t mind.” Namjoon waves off your worries. “I could use a running partner though?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You really are trying to kill me.” You can’t help but snicker as you pack up your things. “I have to get headed to the other side of campus for another class, but I’ll see you around hot jogger dude.”

“See you, cutie who’s bad with mornings.”

Ok, yeah, you are absolutely sure this man was trying to kill you.

Exam season is in full spring and the library of course is crammed with exhausted students, holding their heads in their hands in defeat over textbooks and over expensive coffee. Well, not you!

One, because you have your water bottle and school hasn’t killed off your tastebuds completely yet.  Though, that is now in question from the odd chicken nuggets you were able to scrounge in the dining hall the other night…

Reason number two! There’s no good spot in the library, or any spot open unless you want to sit on the floor, which you don’t want to do. It’s a fire hazard and you just know your butt would get numb. So, you may have seen a librarian make someone else move who was camping out on the floor due to it being a fire hazard. You picked up your bag and moved on to…

Reason number three! You are smart. Instead of being in an overheated and overstuffed library filled with the silent cry of students in agony, you found a much better spot. The science building next door was blessedly empty and silent, though almost a little too cold. Not one to be picky, you spend time finding the perfect spot, an empty open lab with long bench like tables. You spread your notebooks and textbooks over the large surface haphazardly, though careful of the empty test tubes left out. Now you weren’t squished sharing a small corner of an unbalanced table. Genius!

Your only company is the large analog clock going tick, tick, tick, tick, counting your misery as you stare at your notes. The sound seems impossibly loud. Propping up your textbook, you stare at the anatomy diagram, the names literally in latin, seem unreadable. You’re much more of a kinesthetic learner than visual, so anatomy, which just seems like a lot of memorization for the class you’re in, is rather difficult. You shall overcome!

…tick, tick, tick…

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.” 

Your head shoots up at the voice and whirl around, though you are relieved to see it’s only Namjoon leaning against the doorway. Hah, only Namjoon, the hot runner dude you developed a tiny crush on over the course of the semester ever since he sat next to you in class, or maybe since you backhanded his nose. He straightens and takes curious steps towards your table. 

He’s in one of his bulky hoodies and sweatpants, the highlights of student fashion during exams. The fluorescent lighting gleams off Namjoon’s glasses as he adjusts them and peers over your shoulder. “Trying to study anatomy through osmosis?”

You rub at your forehead and cheeks, hoping the book didn’t leave any marks on your face. “I was just about to figure out how to soak the words off the page and into my brain until you interrupted,” you grin tiredly at him, “I’m much more of a hands-on learner so all this memorization is difficult.”

Namjoon freezes for a minute and you can tell he has an idea floating around his head. His lips though remain tightly closed.

Glaring at him, you prod, “What, tell me.”

Namjoon thinks for a moment before nodding to himself, as if trying to encourage himself this was a good idea. He moves beside you so you can see him better. “Well, you see, you need help with,” his arms waves over you, “bodies. And I,” the same arm is placed smoothly on the edge of the table, “know bodies.” His hand slips and then there’s the sound of tinkering glass.

A hand comes up to cover your shock, from not only Namjoon’s constant clumsiness but also his words, and can only watch helplessly as Namjoon fumbles dangerously with the test tubes after his arm neary shoved them off the table. Once the fragile equipment is safe, you can’t help but snort behind your hand at just what happened. The thought of how cute he is runs through your mind and you grin.

“Are you propositioning me, Namjoon?”

Eyes intently focused on the test tubes shift to shyly look up at you. Seeing your grin, he smiles back, “I figured since osmosis was out, a more ‘hands on' method as you mentioned might work out better.” When he sees you bite your lip, his face morphs into a more serious expression. “No pressure though if you don’t want to, of course. I can just step right on out and pretend this never happened.”

He takes a few steps back, but you reach out and grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “I mean, if you want to help me study so badly, how could I say no? Though I do have to ask if this is a one of a kind special tudor session you have in mind or,” you trail off to bite at your lip again, “a long term kinda partnership thing?”

Namjoon blinks at you wordlessly for a moment, taking in your words. His wrist moves out of your hold and your heart falls. Before it can hit rock bottom, long fingers smoothly interlace with your own, and your heart rises, nearly bursting out of your chest. Your emotions are in a whirlwind as Namjoon pulls you up from the lab bench.

“I’m thinking more of a long term kinda partnership thing sounds nice…if that’s what you want?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Yeah, I think I’d like that a lot. Like, a lot, a lot.” 

You wish you could smack yourself in the head right now. This moment should have been more romantic but exams turned your brain to ash. Best to put what you fail with words into action. Tilting your head, you move so your lips brush against Namjoon’s jaw line. His skin warms beneath your touch and you can almost feel his pulse flapping like a pair of butterfly wings. 

Cute.

Lips turning into a devilish smirk, your mouth trails a hot path down his neck to where you feel his pulse beats fastest. A shiver runs through Namjoon when you find where he’s most sensitive and you feel his other hand place itself on your waist tightly. He practically melts when you suckle on his skin.

“Do you think-” Namjoon gulps as your tongue starts to lavish his skin with languid strokes, “we should go a little more private?”

After nipping at his neck, you regretfully pull away. Namjoon lets out a startled noise and you rub your thumb soothingly over the reddening spot on his neck. “I suppose that’s for the best, I’d hate for someone hearing you teach me so well that they would want to steal you away.”

Namjoon flusters even more and you feel his skin heating under your touch. “That, or someone reports us and gets us in trouble.”

You back away from Namjoon, hands slowly slipping through his, and you immediately miss it. “Just let me pack up my things and we can head to my place. Good?”

It’s time for your heart to flutter this time at the sweet smile Namjoon gives you, though the lustful look in his eyes sends the feeling straight down to your core.“Good.”

You never packed up your study notes so fast in your life.

It’s clear to see that the study session isn’t going how Namjoon thought it would, but he’s not complaining.

“Please, I-ngh.”

Begging is more like it.

As soon as the two of you made it to your apartment, the door barely closed before your hands were on each other, lips hungrily devouring the other. You fumble your way and Namjoon as you guide him back into your room. Namjoon’s knees buckle slightly as he backs into the bed, and you give him a helpful little push the rest of the way down. He falls back and his large frame sinks deliciously into your mattress. 

“Take off your shirt and I’ll be right back.” You wink at him and watch as he grabs the end of his shirt to pull it smoothly over his head in one motion. You’re practically drooling as Namjoon leans back, flexing and smirking your way.

Namjoon licks his lips, “Don’t you have to get something?” 

“Yeah…,” you trail off, giving a longing look at Namjoon’s toned body before turning around. “...Going.” 

Heading into your closet, you crouch down over a large bag in the corner and quickly open it and pull out what you need. Both you and Namjoon are surprised at each other when you dash back out of your closet.

Him because of the cables or long rope in your hands.

You because he stripped himself of his pants and holy fucking god, his thighs. 

“What’s that for?” Namjoon nods towards the rope and has to repeat your name to break the trance of you staring at his thighs. 

“Oh, this,” you wave the rope around as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “Since I need to study, I figured it would be best if we didn’t get too distracted y’know?”

And that’s how Namjoon found himself tied to your bed, hands tied above his head to the bedpost with his legs spread and tied to the bottom corners of your bed frame. Your naked heat slowly grinds down on his thick thigh, smearing a trail of your arousal to shine across his skin. His head is cloudy with lust as your fingers trail over his chest.

“Please, I-ngh.”

You lean forward, pressing more into him, to enclose a nipple into your mouth. You suck around it hard and bite down, enjoying his sharp intake of breath and how his body pulls at the restraints underneath you. Your hips grind down harder down on his thigh in reaction before you pull up.

“Now, even I know that’s not the name of that.” Your nails trail over his skin, watching as his muscles twitch under you. “It starts with an ‘s’ right?”

“S-serratus anterior muscle,” Namjoon answers, his jaw clenching together in strain.

“Ah, that's it! Thanks. So we got deltoid muscles here,” your hands skim over his body to trace over the tops of his arms just under his shoulder. You then splay your hands out greedily over his chest again. “Pectoralis major muscles here.” This time you move your whole body down as you recite, “Serraus anterior muscle, external intercoastal muscles,  mmmm rectus abdominis muscle,” and your tongue dips down to run between Namjoon’s abs, “ and linea alba.”

“Mmhmm, perfect score.”

You leave a soft kiss over Namjoon’s abs as your eyes look up across the expanse of his body laid before you. “Told you I was a hands-on learner.” 

Namjoon pulls weakly at his restraints and sighs in frustration. “Think you’re up to skipping ahead a couple of chapters?”

You lift yourself up to sit back on Namjoon’s thighs. “I wouldn’t mind getting ahead a little bit and getting a good handle,” your hand grasps around Namjoon’s hard, erect cock, appreciating the weight of it in your hand and the way he gasps, “on the subject.” Your voice lowers and becomes husky as you start to grind yourself slowly on Namjoon’s thigh again. “Teach me everything, and tell me how it feels.”

Namjoon’s head hits the pillow hard as a long deep moan escapes his parted lips, finally getting touched where he wants after endless amounts of teasing. Any thoughts of science fly out of the window, but his bodily reactions and moans tell you exactly how he feels.  

You never enjoyed studying so much, and you don’t want to stop until you learn every single inch of the man beneath you.

[heartsmadeofbooks]

[Preview] New fic: Sleepless in Brooklyn

Hi hi hi ♥

I'm very happy to announce that my new fic, Sleepless in Brooklyn, will begin on Saturday, December 18th.

If you think the name rings a bell, then that's because it's a movie AU, based on one of my all time favorite films, Sleepless in Seattle. I've wanted to write a story based on it (but with my own twist and definitely gayer) for the longest time, and I thought now might be the perfect time, considering it would fit the theme with the holidays approaching.

This story features a lovely cover art made by Sofi, and of course, my wonderful beta Christine helped with all the proof-reading and editing. Thank you both for all your help ♥

Without further ado, here's a quick preview. I will see you all on Saturday for the first chapter!

There are tragedies that aren't only expected – they are also supposed to be a bit of a relief.

It was a beautiful spring day, the kind that was perfect for picnics, all the birds chirping in the sky, the flowers blooming everywhere you went, the sun shining down on you like a blessing. And yet, as he sat there, Cooper Anderson couldn't feel the warmth, couldn't hear anything but defeaning silence, couldn't feel the soothing touch of his wife's hand in his. All he could see was his brother, standing still as a statue, looking so very alone on the other side of the grave.

Blaine didn't look relieved at all. He just looked as if someone had hit his heart with a sledgehammer and left all the broken pieces of it at his feet.

To be fair, Blaine had looked near to a breaking point for the past five months – maybe everyone else had been charmed and fooled by his polite smile and positive attitude, but Cooper knew his little brother well. He knew he just kept the pretenses in front of the nurses and the doctors, even in front of Michael's family, and that he didn't allow himself to drop the act until he was locked behind his closed bedroom door, away from the world. Not even Cooper had been allowed to see Blaine then, but he could guess what his nights had looked like, he just knew that his brother would cry himself to sleep every single night as he struggled to accept the unavoidable truth: his husband was dying.

The cancer had spread so quickly, no one had any time to actually come to terms with the news before Michael was detereorating and suddenly wasting away in a hospital bed. Blaine had soldiered on, supported by his family, putting everything on hold to be by his side, to tend to his every need. But nothing helped, nothing changed or twisted fate – and so Cooper had gotten the phone call, just two days ago, as he was pouring himself a cup of coffee before heading to the office. He and his wife had exchanged a quick look across the kitchen as Cooper accepted the call, and then his brother's voice had said the simple, yet painful words: “He's gone.”

They had talked about what a relief it was that Michael was no longer suffering, the cliché sentiments seeming to lose all meaning when faced with the harsh reality: Michael was no longer suffering, but the people he had left behind were suffering more than ever.

The priest prattled on and on – it had been Michael's parents' idea, to have a religious service, and Cooper wondered how they could find comfort in the notion of heaven, angels and God wanting Mike by his side, when he was so clearly needed here, on Earth, with his family instead. When his husband was falling apart and failing at hiding it, when he wouldn't let go of their six year old's hand, who looked so confused and so sad. It would take a while for Jonah to come to terms with losing one of his fathers.

It would take a while for them to learn how to be a family of two, instead of a family of three.