#was thinking about this while reading the ghost map the other day

[mmikmmik]

After everything we’ve learned about COVID and the importance of indoor air quality, I think a lot of historical figures who believed in miasma theory have been judged too harshly. It’s frustrating to look back on all the missed opportunities to save people with wastewater treatment and proper sanitation, but it seems clear to me now that many doctors and researchers quite probably were seeing stunning improvements from improving ventilation and getting people away from the smells of disease, i.e., away from all the coughing sick people

[ckret2]

Chapter 63 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*you may notice chapter 61 is missing! This plot was done sooner, so I'll be posting chapter 61 sometime after 64. It's not chronological so you're not missing anything!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes. 

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks." 

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk. 

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

[pin-k-ink]

precious // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ hoshina being an overprotective hubby, mentions of complications during childbirth, mentions of injuries, unplanned pregnancy, lactation kink, nipple play, fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, semi public sex, squirting

wc ⇢ 6.8k

Your breath hitched in your throat as Hoshina crowded you against the bedroom door, his powerful frame bracketing you in with sinewy arms planted on either side of your head in an inescapable cage.

"Ya sure about this, baby girl?" he rasped, leaning down to ghost his lips across the thundering pulse at your throat. "Goin' back out into the field so soon after..."

He trailed off, throat bobbing with a convulsive swallow as he fought to keep the emotions off his face. You knew what he struggled not to voice - the reminder that it had been barely over a year since your last combat deployment...when you spent those endless, agonizing hours birthing his child in the medical ward.

Raising one hand, you traced the hard line of Hoshina’s jaw until he finally tilted his stare back to meet yours fully. The look of naked worry shining through those indigo depths made your chest constrict sharply. This was the man who had nearly torn the entire base apart searching for you that fateful night, convinced something catastrophic had unfolded after the readings from your suit went haywire.

Only to find you safely secured behind lockdown, laboring to bring his daughter into the world despite the field medics' best efforts to whisk you away at the first sign of complication. You still remembered the haunted awe etched across Hoshina’s chiseled features when he finally burst through, coated in sand and viscera but somehow the most beautiful sight you'd ever laid eyes on.

With Setsuko bundled in one arm, he had dropped to his knees at your bedside and gathered you both against his heaving chest in a rib-creaking embrace, lips mapping every inch of exposed skin between ragged apologies and feverish gratitude. As if you were both incredibly precious gemstones he'd nearly lost to the relentless hunger of this world's darkness before reclaiming at the last possible second.

You would never forget that moment as long as you lived - the reminder of just how easy it could all be snatched away in the blink of an eye. Which was precisely why you were so adamant about cutting the suffocating, overprotective tethers Hoshina had woven around you both in the aftermath and reclaiming your duties as a combat officer.

"Soshiro..." you murmured, palming his cheek firmly to hold his gaze as your other hand drifted down to press over the soft plane of your abdomen. "My body is healed, and Setsu is thriving. You can't keep us locked away forever out of some misguided sense of duty."

A muscle ticked in Hoshina’s jaw, the stark truth of your words resonating through that stubborn cavern of protective instincts still screaming to shield his family at any cost. You could practically see the battle raging across his features as he grappled with acknowledging your self-determination versus the compulsive need to snap you both back behind reinforced barriers until the end of days if he had his way.

"I almost lost ya," he gritted out at last, the hushed rasp of anguish bleeding through more vulnerability than Hoshina would ever dare allow any soul besides you to witness. "Sittin' there helpless while yer vital signs went haywire, wonderin' if I'd get to hold ya one last time before—"

You cut off the words with a decisive shake of your head, fingers slanting across his lips to halt the destructive path he would undoubtedly travel down given half the chance. "But you didn't lose me," you stated with steely certainty. "And I'll be damned if you or anyone else tries to treat me like a porcelain doll now that—"

"I don't think ya understand exactly what that night did to me," Hoshina interjected, a sudden ferocity burning behind his eyes as he trapped your wrist with one massive hand.

In the same motion, he hauled you flush against the rigid wall of his chest, tangling his free hand into your hair to cant your head back at an angle that bared your throat completely to his roving stare. You couldn't help the trembling full-body shudder that rippled through you as he leaned down to brush parted lips across your overheated skin.

"Do you have any idea how close ya came to bleedin' out 'fore I got there?" he rumbled against your thundering pulse in a tone made of smoke and sin. "What seein' ya like that, hearing the panic in the medics' voices about 'fadin' vitals' and possible hemor—"

His words fractured into a raw, wounded keen stifled against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wove your hands through his soft ink-dark locks, cradling him close as the powerful frame you adored more than life itself trembled with the force of his anguished recollections for several drawn-out beats.

When Hoshina finally regained some semblance of his renowned composure, you felt an undisguised press of wetness smear across your scorching skin. He drew back just enough to bore straight into your eyes, his own glassy and ringed with reddened fatigue no amount of bluster could fully mask.

"Ya don't get it, [Y/N]..." Hoshina growled in a wrecked rasp that seemed torn from the very depths of his psyche. "In that moment, there was nothin' - not the kaijiu threat, not the entire fuckin' war...not a damn thing that could have stopped me from slaughterin' anyone or anything to reach yer side when—"

His throat convulsed sharply as he visibly wrestled the rest of his confession into viselike submission. When he continued, it was in a lower, rawer octave that sent tingles of primal awareness skittering across your nerves.

"You and Setsuko are my entire universe, baby girl. My reason to keep endurin' this hell and clawin' my way back home to you both time after time. So you'll damn well forgive me for doing everythin' possible to keep my precious treasures safe and untarnished..."

With that, Hoshina yanked you forward again until you were once more plastered flush against that furnace of sinewy power and virile strength. This time he buried his face against the fragrant spill of your hair, drawing in heady lungfuls of your familiar scent as if drowning.

"I'm not ready to lose ya, sweetheart..." he rasped in a desperate, muffled whisper. "Even if it pisses ya off, even if ya hate me for it...I'll still do everythin' in my power to keep ya both sheltered from harm. It's the only way I can keep breathin'."

The raw agony and stark vulnerability driving those hushed words lanced straight through you. Without hesitation, you curved your arms around Hoshina’s torso in a grounding embrace and nuzzled your face against his heaving chest. Beneath your cheek you could feel the jackhammer cadence of his heart pounding, the visceral echo of just how profoundly this entire situation had shaken his foundations.

For long stretches, you simply swayed in concert while murmuring wordless reassurances and nonsense endearments into the charged stillness. The lulling rise and fall of your joined bodies gradually lulled Hoshina back from whatever haunted precipice his mind had been teetering over.

At last you felt the rigid tension slowly begin to unspool from his corded muscles, the fractures of his trademark ease and command settling back into place like tectonic faultlines. Hoshina let out a quavering sigh, warm breath stirring the fine hairs along your nape just before his lips found your crown in a lingering caress.

"I know," he rumbled at last, hoarse rasp reverberated against your sensitive whorls. "Pretty big fuckin' ask for a hardass like me to just rip those protective shackles off so easily."

You couldn't help the helpless little giggle that slipped free at his self-deprecating gruffness. Tilting your head back, you slanted your mouth across Hoshina’s in a deep, searching kiss that quickly stole both your breaths in its heated wake.

When you finally resurfaced, it was to find his indigo irises hooded to thin slivers of banked intensity - black fire flickering hungrily beneath those fanned lashes as he drank in your glazed expression and slick, swollen lips.

"Just promise me one thing, baby girl..." Hoshiro practically purred in a deliciously sinful cadence far removed from the impassioned pleas just moments ago. His tongue swept out to capture the tang of your lipgloss with delicate, purposeful relish. "Keep yer proximity protocols limited to long range fire support and recon sweeps only. I get even a whisper ya tried pulling some heroine bullshit out on the front lines..."

His grip on your jaw tightened fractionally, fingertips imprinting delicious brands of possession that made you squirm with visceral awareness. "And I'll make absolutely certain ya spend our next reunion face down and ass up over my knee. Understood?"

You could only whimper a breathless, mewling assent that seemed to stroke those banked flames behind Hoshina’s eyes into twin pillars of searing azure.

"Good girl..." he growled in blatant satisfaction before slanting his mouth over yours once more, all silken heat and scorching dominance.

Hoshina’s deep, rumbling laughter echoed through the spacious nursery as he tickled Setsuko's tummy, drinking in her tinkling peals of delight. The simple act of playing with his precious daughter was one of the few reprieves that could completely untether him from the relentless shadows of combat for however brief the respite.

"Again, Daddy! More tickles!" she squealed breathlessly between giggles, violet eyes sparking with unrestrained mirth.

Unable to resist those imploring looks - so reminiscent of her mother's own persuasive stares - Hoshina obliged with another flurry of gentle raspberries blown against Setsuko's downy soft skin. Her chubby features scrunched up in fresh mirth, tiny fists swatting at him playfully as she squirmed in his lap.

For those fleeting moments, the rest of the war-torn world beyond these secure walls faded into blessed white noise. There was only the simplicity of his baby girl's joy, her infectious laughter coaxing matching rumbles of contentment from Hoshina’s depths. A reprieve from the endless grind of violence and ugliness he willingly shouldered to safeguard these infinitely precious moments.

As Setsuko finally began winding down to breathless hiccups and intermittent giggles, Hoshina felt his attention drifting despite his best efforts. Suddenly his mind began replaying those last images of you suiting up for deployment earlier. The way your suit had molded to every lush, feminine curve like a second skin, practically searing the outlines of your form into his mind.

He remembered the intoxicating scent of your floral shampoo caressing his senses as you passed by for final munitions check. How your fingers had trailed along the chiseled ridges of his arm and shoulder in an unconscious caress, sending tendrils of scorching need licking through his veins. Most of all, Hoshina recollected the look of quiet determination blazing behind those luminous irises - the promise that you would indeed uphold his conditions out in the field this time.

With some difficulty, he managed to wrestle his thoughts back to the present as Setsuko twisted in his embrace, nosing insistently at the window. "Daddy, look! Trucks coming! Mommy's home now?"

Her words lanced straight through the heated reverie clouding Hoshina’s consciousness like a splash of ice water. Immediately, every paternal instinct snapped into laserlike vigil, gaze narrowing at the unmistakable rumble of armored transports entering the compound.

Carefully, he untangled Setsuko from his lap and rose in a single smooth motion to cross the nursery. "C'mon, kiddo, let's get ya settled with Miss Tomi again for a bit, 'kay? I'll bring Mommy up to say goodnight once she's finished her debrief."

It was only after ensuring his daughter was transferred into her caretaker's custody that Hoshina allowed his brisk strides to eat up the hallway distances towards the arrival hangar. Despite his lingering reservations and misgivings, you were still a consummate soldier and enforcer of duty. Which meant protocol dictated you would report directly to Captain Ashiro upon returning rather than seeking him out first.

As expected, the residential wing corridors were vacant, nothing but the baseline echoes of the facility's equipment and climate control systems. No sign of you just yet, likely still undergoing post-mission triage and data offloading. With a grunt, Hoshina altered course towards the Operation Room where he was certain to find you eventually.

Sure enough, as the familiar open atrium came into view, Hoshiro picked up the unmistakable form of Okonogi already stationed by the monitor. She seemed...twitchy, if the constant fidgeting and shifting of her weight was any indication. More than once, her gaze flicked nervously towards the double-wide access doors as another incoming group filtered inside, only to snap back with clear avoidance when she spotted Hoshina’s looming silhouette.

Curiosity rapidly morphing into heightened suspicion, Hoshina angled his approach to intercept the young operations leader before she could make any hasty retreats. "Okonogi-chan," he said in greeting as she started guiltily. "Everythin' okay?"

Her cheeks flushed an even darker umber shade as she swallowed hard, clearly striving to regain some composure under Hoshina’s hard stare. "V-Vice Captain Hoshina! I was just, um, waiting for the debriefing t-to...that is, I mean..."

Trailing off pathetically, Okonogi shot one more wild-eyed glance over her shoulder, as if praying another distraction might materialize to spirit her away from this interrogation. No such salvation came, however, so she slumped with a tiny sigh before pivoting to fully face him.

"The truth is...Platoon Leader [L/N]— uh, Hoshina experienced a medical incident during today's mission," she managed to rasp out without quite meeting Hoshina’s gaze squarely. "She...collapsed in the middle of the kaiju engagement before her platoon could neutralize the threat."

For one suspended beat, all the ambient systems noise and distant voices faded into hollow static around Hoshina’s consciousness. Then a roaring, lancing pressure began expanding inside his skull as the implications took root and sprouted into a torrent of nightmare visions.

You collapsing amidst rubble and viscera, camera feed whiting out with nothing but bursts of interference...hissing emergency channels shouting about unstable vitals and internal hemorrhaging...the empty, agonizing silence that would follow if he lost the other half of his reason for living...

By the time Hoshina regained control over his body and lungs, Okonogi had already instinctively staggered back several paces with eyes widened in trepidation. Whether it was the rictus glare he leveled in her direction or the barely sublimated snarl reverberated through his chest, she clearly realized just how deeply the news gored his core.

"What. Happened," he grated out in a tone made of jagged obsidian and gritted glass. Each syllable seemed to flay away another shred of Okonogi's composure, leaving her bobbing in visible terror under his stormy scrutiny.

"She—she didn't sustain any injuries as far as the readings from her suit indicate," the girl managed in a breathless tumble of words, eyes still averted deferentially. "Platoon Leader Hoshina's condition was stabilized en route, and she regained consciousness before the transport returned to—"

A dismissive snarl ripped free from Hoshina’s chest before he realized it, sending Okonogi physically flinching with a whimper. He didn't have the patience or wherewithal to deconstruct her clinical details - not with a million shrieking demons howling in his mind all painting the same chilling canvas.

You lying motionless and bloodied, skin waxen beneath your combat suit...those vibrant eyes dimmed to soulless pits staring back at him in vacant accusation. All because he allowed himself to indulge your foolish, self-destructive whims by easing his protection despite every primal instinct lighting up like solar flares.

Barely cognizant of his actions, Hoshina pivoted sharply and began stalking towards the medbay with ground-eating strides. He needed to see you whole and breathing with his own two eyes, hear your voice lance through the maelstrom of torment roiling through his thoughts. Nothing else would ever be enough to exorcise the demons until he could physically inhere every detail to memory once more.

"V-Vice Captain!" Okonogi called out faintly behind him, voice wavering between obligation and self-preservation. "I have to insist you wait until Captain—"

"I don't take orders from you," Hoshina snarled over his shoulder without breaking stride, every fiber of his being now a missile locked onto its solitary target.

Finding you, holding you, ensuring your wellbeing with his own senses...this was the only imperative that registered anymore. If anyone tried barring his path, they would simply become another obstacle to be neutralized without mercy or hesitation.

With the medical ward’s towering threshold now looming ahead, Hoshina braced inwardly for whatever maelstrom of emotions awaited him just beyond that point. Either he was about to eclipse into divine rapture at finding you still whole and resilient in defiance of the odds...

Or he was descending irrevocably into a personal hell from which there could be no climbing back this time.

Hoshina burst through the medical wing's reinforced hatches like a vengeful hurricane unleashed. Several staffers in white lab coats startled and backpedaled at his sudden, explosive arrival, eyes widening at the thunderous expression twisting his features.

"Where is she? My wife! Platoon Leader Hoshina. Where is she?!" he snarled without preamble, stalking further into the sterile chamber with forearms already coiled for confrontation. "If any of ya valued yer lives, you'd tell me where—"

The venomous threat fractured in the back of his throat as a familiar, melodious giggle drifted through the air - your giggle, distinct and infinitely precious. Hoshina’s chest seized with such force he nearly staggered, every previous thought and raging instinct funneling to that single point where the gentle peal had originated from.

Whipping his head around with near-violent intensity, his gaze finally locked upon your form seated atop one of the beds. You were framed in profile, backlit by the crisp fluorescents and laughing at something the attending medic hovered beside you had said. To Hoshina, you may as well have been haloed by celestial radiance itself.

Before conscious thought could fully reassert itself, his legs were already carryining him forward in a smooth, prowling gait - a wolf homing in on the mate it had scented from miles away. He reached your side just as your giggles tapered off into sporadic chuckles, mouth still curved in that radiant smile he had convinced himself mere moments ago may never grace his world again.

Then you noticed his presence at your side, eyes widening fractionally before crinkling at the corners as a fresh smile bloomed across your features. "Well hey there, big—oof!"

The attempted greeting dissolved into a breathless exhalation as Hoshina enveloped you in his arms, crushing your frame against his chest so tightly it stole all remaining oxygen. Not that he could bring himself to loosen his grip in the slightest at feeling your solid warmth, the unrelenting cadence of your heartbeat thumping against his sternum in vivid tandem with his own thundering pulses.

"Idiot..." he rasped out in a devastated keen muffled against the crown of your head, throat convulsing with stifled emotion. Emotion that thrashed and roiled within like a snarling tempest barely bound, demanding cathartic release in any way he could physically pour himself into you. "You beautiful, infuriatin', ridiculous idiot..."

He could feel the perplexed quirk of your brow against the fevered skin of his neck as you craned your head back slightly, attempting to put distance between you so he could drink in the full force of your searching stare. Hoshina didn't allow it - couldn't bear the thought of a single inch separating your bodies even for an instant after nearly being rent asunder by loss.

So instead, he gathered you even closer into the protective, unyielding circle of his embrace with a minute adjustment, until you were practically molded into the solid ridges and hard planes of his body down to the last degree. With his nose buried in your fragrant hair, Hoshina simply stood there quaking for several agonizing moments, drinking in every infinitesimal detail like a dying man gulping at a desert oasis while he could.

Until finally you stirred again and his name emerged in that soothing alto lullaby he adored, now ribboned through layers of fond exasperation and confusion. "Shiro...? Hey now, I'm alright, see? No need for my big bad soldier to fly off the handle on some poor doc who was only—"

You broke off into a muffled squeak as Hoshina abruptly yanked you even tighter, until the bones in your ribcage creaked ominously under the colossal forces binding you to him. "Shut up," he growled in a voice made of smoke, gravel, and something deeper...something fracturing along the hairline faultlines of his legendary restraint with each fresh recollection. "Just shut yer perfect mouth for one goddamn minute and let me..."

The gruff demand trailed off into stark silence as the white-knuckled intensity gripping Hoshina momentarily stole even his ability to verbalize his most primal needs. You seemed to sense the magnitude of his internal tides, though. Because rather than bristle at the brusque order, you simply relaxed your tense posture by increments and nestled closer into his sheltering bulk.

Long minutes were spent with you both swaying in minute shifts, simply existing within the shared space of respiration and mollified thunders slowing echoing against the medical pod's walls. Hoshina drowned in the familiar bouquet of your shampoo and bodily effluvium, savoring the unmistakable evidence that you were indeed whole, present, and gloriously undamaged in his embrace.

If you thought the way he had gathered you close before was intense, it was nothing compared to the scorching brand that ignited and seared straight through your core as he slanted his mouth over yours in a profound claim. Hoshina’s kiss was branded possession, smelted forges of banked heat contained behind that carefully metered exterior he always presented finally detonating in savage release.

Stars spun dizzily in your vision as his tongue swept past the seam of your lips in ferocious demand, pillaging everything in its path. Just as you were teetering towards delirium from the frenzied onslaught, feeling the familiar stirrings of arousal begin pooling between your thighs, a pointed ‘ahem’ broke the tension.

You both broke apart with audible gasps, Hoshina’s grip somehow tightening even further around your waist in a clear warning not to allow any space to linger. Together you pivoted towards the interruption to find one of the senior medics surveying you both in exasperated resignation. The woman's no-nonsense demeanor and arched brow brokered no argument as her mouth opened to deliver the verdict.

"Apologies for the, ah...delay , but I wanted to ensure we had a finalized diagnosis before debriefing Platoon Leader Hoshina's status," she intoned with a degree of deference that only applied to Hoshina’s rank rather than his outburst just moments ago.

The Vice Captain inclined his head a bare fraction, silently prompting the medic to continue now that she had his undivided focus. With another clipped sigh, she tapped her pen against data-tablet once before she held it out for the both of you.

You immediately recognized the anatomical schematic as your own physiology. And there, nestled and highlighted in diffusing aurora refractions...

You felt the breath stall in your lungs as you took in the undeniable second life signature nestled in pulsating tandem with your own heartbeat. Beside you, you sensed more than saw Hoshina go utterly motionless with the sole exception of his jugular hammering with steadily mounting intensity.

"It appears Platoon Leader Hoshina's loss of consciousness was induced by a combination of factors typical for approximately 8-12 week human gestation," the medic stated in clipped, clinical tones. "Increased hormone production, depleted plasma levels, intermittent vascular compliance...all of which manifested rather acutely while exerting continual strain."

She turned the anatomical display to reveal a progression of imaging scans highlighting your uterine area. Sure enough, cradled within the diffusing nebulae and heat-maps...an unmistakable fetal form beginning to take shape.

"Essentially, your physical ordeal seems to have triggered an extreme response which resulted in your body's rather dramatic effort to preserve the prenatal incubation environment amidst perceived duress conditions. A natural biological adaptation, if highly disruptive in this particular instance."

The explanation filtered only peripherally through the twin shock waves engulfing your reeling psyche. All you could see was the tiny, unmistakable shape huddled securely within those layers as if in silent defiance of your ignorance.

Pregnant. You were pregnant...with Hoshina’s child all over again.

Unconsciously, you felt your hand drifting towards the suddenly fraught terrain of your lower abdomen, fingers splaying over the subtle yet taut swell with quiet reverence. How had you missed something so monumentally life-altering? Beside you, Hoshina remained eerily statue-still save for the ragged hurricane of his breathing steadily intensifying until it thundered from his flared nostrils like a war drum cadence.

Then, without preamble or warning, your entire world shifted on its axis once more as he scooped you up crushingly close in a bizarre echo of his initial greeting. This time, however, there was none of the wild mania or single-minded desperation motivating his motions. Only a sort of quiet and profoundly stunned devotion rendering his powerful form inert as his broad palms mapped the slight swell of your abdomen almost reverently.

"Soshiro..." you breathed out around a throat thickened with emotion too visceral to articulate. "Are you...?"

"Hush now, pretty girl..." his words were a rolling rumble of molten gravel, smoky with naked awe. "No more talkin', not until yer husband has had his moment, yeah?"

With that gentle reverence, Hoshina tilted his brow against yours and simply...existed in rapt communion with the newly revealed secret you now cradled between your parallel stances. No protocols, no urgencies or crises beyond this singular miracle holding the whole of his universe in rapturous thrall.

Just he and you...plus the most precious addition of all.

Hoshina kept you cradled against his powerfully muscled frame even as he strode out of the medbay, one arm banded securely beneath your knees while the other splayed possessively above the brand-new swell of your abdomen. You watched the myriad expressions flicker across his chiseled features - naked awe, blazing possession, softening to tender reverence at each minuscule caress against the taut feminine swell...

"Should we go get Setsu?" you murmured at one point, already imagining the delight that would spark your daughter's face upon learning of her imminent promotion to big sisterhood. "I know she'll be thrilled to—"

"Already taken care of, baby girl," Hoshina interjected in a low, rumbling rasp without breaking stride. His indigo stare remained transfixed upon your midsection as if hypnotized. "Soon as I heard the news, my first call was ensurin' our girl would be looked after through the night."

You opened your mouth to question his meaning, only to go slack-jawed as realization sank in with molten intensity. ‘Through the night?’ Did Hoshina actually intend to...

The answering heat blazing in those indigo depths as he drank in your dawning comprehension was enough to scorch away any lingering doubts. You felt your breath hitch sharply, entire body flushing hot beneath Hoshina’s scorching stare. Suddenly you were arousingly, viscerally aware of the slight stretching heaviness confined beneath your taut bodysuit - your breasts tingling with new sensitivity, the unmistakable proof of life blossoming inside weighing you down with the most intoxicating sense of feminine appeal.

A flicker of Hoshina’s tongue swiping across his lower lip made your newly hypersensitive nerves throb in yearning. You squirmed instinctively against his embrace, thighs clenching in an unconscious attempt to alleviate the steadily mounting ache already pulsing in delirious demand between them.

Without needing to be prompted further, Hoshina sank into an easy crouch and deposited you on the nearest flat surface - a long, reinforced table usually reserved for tactical planning and readiness evaluation. The cool, sterile metal beneath your back made you gasp, suddenly arousal-ripened nipples peaking against the thin material in helpless reaction. But any feeble protests withered on your tongue as Hoshina’s calloused hands began roaming with unhurried, passionate focus every lush new curve and dimpled expanse his heated stare hungrily mapped out.

"Look how utterly sexy you've already gotten carryin' my child..." he rasped in a voice gone gravel-rough and honeyed with undisguised sin. One palm drifted up to knead and caress the generous swell of your breasts in tactile rapture. "So damn soft and absolutely made for givin' life..."

Despite the scorching frisson of need steadily mounting throughout your core, you somehow found the presence of mind to mouth a half-hearted objection. "Sh-Shiro, the door...we shouldn't—"

"Shh, shh...let me take care of my sweet girl," he husked out in that deep, resonant timbre that liquefied your bones. With his free hand splaying burning possession across your lower belly, Hoshina dipped his mouth to trail open, openmouthed kisses down the long elegant column of your throat. "Wouldn't want to waste a single second now that I've got ya all wet and riled up..."

His voice dropped into an octave of pure sin on that last word, every syllable seeming to lash synapses into feverish overdrive. You whimpered at the brand of his teeth scoring your thundering pulse, back arching instinctively into the delicious friction building between your bodies.

Not needing further encouragement, Hoshina set about divesting you of every last stitch of material separating his roving mouth and ravenous gaze from the delicious new swell of your figure. Within moments you were splayed in nude abandon, quivering with arousal and utterly hypnotized by the look of naked hunger blazing from his features.

"That's my good girl..." he purred in molten gravel against the hollow of your collarbone, free hand smoothing possessive claim down the newly defined curve of your hips and thighs. "Just lay back and let Daddy take his fill of this gorgeous little body...been far too long since I got to taste yer milk…or anythin' else for that matter."

The way his tongue slicked out to trace your areola in teasing, featherlight circles sent your brain into a tailspin. All thoughts of protest or resistance disintegrated into molten, visceral need. Especially as his mouth latched around your aching nipple and began suckling in languid, thorough draws, tongue flicking the straining peak in rhythmic pulses.

It was as if a floodgate of sensation had been unlocked by the sheer intimacy of his actions. Suddenly the pressure mounting between your thighs became unbearable, hips rocking forward instinctively to grind against Hoshina in an attempt to slake that growing, insatiable fire.

"So greedy for my mouth, aren't ya, baby girl..." he growled around a mouthful of breast, teeth grazing your swollen flesh as his free hand began kneading your neglected globe in firm, massaging motions. "Daddy's got plenty to give, no need to rush now..."

With a final lingering pull, Hoshina released your nipple with a sinful pop and leaned back just enough to admire the fresh evidence of his attentions. You felt your cheeks flood with molten heat as you watched him drink in the engorged, glistening state of your breasts, nipples puckered and aching in desperate need.

"Gorgeous..." he purred in a silken rasp of praise, free hand drifting lower to caress the sensitive hollows of your inner thigh. "Yer so fuckin' beautiful to me, mama, no wonder ya had my poor heart stopped earlier."

You were still attempting to process the heady mixture of arousal and raw emotion roiling through you when Hoshina leaned down to lap at the opposite breast. The sudden contact of his tongue circling the straining bud made your spine arch off the table in a breathless arc, fingers clawing for purchase against his muscled shoulders.

"Fuck! Shiro, please, I can't—!"

Your desperate pleas fractured into a mewling cry as he sealed his lips around your nipple and suckled hard. At the same moment, his free hand groped a handful of your other breast and squeezed, just hard enough to make your milk spurt forth in an erotic spray.

Hoshina growled around a mouthful of creamy liquid, drinking deep as if he was the one teetering on the edge of madness and not you. His eyes flicked up to lock with your own, searing irises smoldering with such unrelenting focus the air seemed to sizzle between you.

"So damn gorgeous when ya feed me like this, mama'," he rumbled in a voice made of sin and dark promises. His grip on your breast tightened fractionally, coaxing another jet of rich milk. "Gonna spend the rest of my days breedin' ya over and over so you'll never run dry for Daddy..."

With a final swipe of his tongue, Hoshina straightened and drew the back of his hand across his glistening lips, savoring the remnants. For several suspended moments he simply gazed down at your supine form, drinking in the sight with a level of intensity that made you flush with heat and shyness.

Then his palm skated possessively over the slope of your stomach, coming to rest atop the taut skin where a brand-new life had been kindled. A slow smile curved his lips as he rubbed his thumb in slow, circular caresses.

"Might even have to keep ya like this after this one's born, baby girl. Just stay nice and soft and full for Daddy..." he growled, fingers drifting to cup your swollen folds in a possessive grip. "Maybe then ya won't be so inclined to take off and play hero out there where yer not needed anymore, yeah?"

Your protests died a swift death on your tongue as Hoshina plunged one thick finger into the soaking heat of your pussy. With his free hand still resting atop your stomach, he began pumping with measured, languid strokes - his gaze locked unblinkingly upon yours the entire time.

"That's right, my perfect little housewife..." he coaxed as your hips bucked in instinctive counterpoint, pussy clamping down with greedy demand. "Let Daddy take care of ya like this forever...ya won't even miss the battlefield once I get ya good and bred again as soon as this one's out."

"Shiro...oh, gods, please..." you moaned as his fingers began curling and scissoring in deliberate, unhurried motions, dragging against that most sensitive cluster of nerves deep inside.

"That's right, darlin'," Hoshina purred, bending low to nuzzle at the underside of your breast, lips skimming across the supple flesh. "Ya just lay back and let Daddy do the hard work...keep my baby girl safe and cozy while I handle all the heavy liftin'."

Your hips bucked in frantic desperation as his mouth descended on your straining nipple once more, lips pursing to suckle in firm pulls. His free hand continued rubbing in gentle circles across your abdomen, while his fingers began pumping faster and harder between your thighs.

You could feel the pressure building behind a wall of sheer ecstasy, every muscle drawn taut and vibrating. Just as you began toppling into the abyss, Hoshina pulled his fingers free. You whined in protest, writhing for the friction he had stolen away.

"Please, Shiro, I need it..."

"Shh, easy now, mama," he murmured, shifting his body weight until he was fully settled between your thighs, arms banded on either side to brace his bulk. "Know what ya need better than yerself, remember? So just relax and let Daddy do his job, yeah?"

With a single smooth thrust, Hoshina hilted himself to the hilt inside your spasming core, eliciting a choked cry from the both of you. For several seconds, he remained motionless and shuddering, simply reveling in the sensation of being seated fully inside the slick heat he had claimed years ago.

"Holy shit, I thought it would be different," he groaned, forehead pressing against your own as his pelvis began rocking in a steady rhythm. "But yer still just as tight and hot for my cock as the first time I buried myself in ya, aren't ya, baby girl..."

You whimpered incoherently, hips rising to meet each driving stroke in delirious counterpoint. Hoshina growled in approval, increasing the tempo until the table rocked violently beneath the force of his thrusts. "Do ya remember? When ya tried playin' hard to get with me, thinkin' ya had the upper hand?"

As if in emphasis, he shifted his weight and began grinding his pelvis into yours in punishing, deliberate circles. Your cries pitched to a higher, keening note as the pressure built towards that glorious crescendo once more.

"Shoulda known…you were mine the moment I laid eyes on ya," Hoshina continued in a voice made of molten gravel. His eyes bore into yours with single-minded, searing intensity. "Shoulda fucked ya stupid right then and there...but I'll be damned if ya weren't worth the wait, baby girl'."

He punctuated his statement with a brutal snap of his hips that had you keening beneath him. Your entire world was narrowed down to the molten stretch of him inside you, the friction of his pubic bone grinding into your swollen clit, the overwhelming presence of his gaze burning you to ash with nothing but adoration.

"Love ya, mama...love ya so much I can't ever think straight whenever ya take off like that," Hoshina's voice cracked with emotion, fingers threading into your hair to angle your face up to his. "I'd do anything for ya...just don't ever make me live without ya, baby girl."

"I-I won't, I promise," you sobbed, overwhelmed with the intensity of his emotion, your own body teetering precariously on the razor's edge of release. "Please, Shiro, make me cum, need it so bad, please—"

He immediately rose to his full height, both hands gripping the generous swell of your hips and angling you at a steeper incline. Your legs instinctively hooked around his waist as his strokes became deep, savage pistoning - the new angle allowing his cock to strike all those tender spots inside you just perfectly.

"Cum for me, baby girl, wanna see ya soak my dick..." he gritted out, every corded muscle in his powerful frame flexing as he worked himself furiously in and out of your sopping core. "Let Daddy see that pretty pussy milk my cock, yeah?"

His fingers tightened into bruising crescents against your hips as the pace of his thrusts became increasingly ragged, a low groan building in the back of his throat. You felt his balls drawing up tight, his shaft swelling as the familiar pulsating throb began signaling the moment he could no longer hold back.

The moment you had him entirely, utterly, and irrevocably undone.

Your entire body went rigid, toes curling and spine arching as you crested over the edge into an inferno of blinding ecstasy. Hoshina snarled gutturally as your core spasmed, hot liquid spurting and gushing around his cock just as your tits sprayed another fountain of rich milk, splashing his chest.

"Holy—fuck! That’s the sexiest goddamn thing I've ever seen," he grunted, fingers digging into your hips to lock you into place as he drove himself to the hilt once, twice, and then held...

"Fuuuuck!" Hoshina bellowed, head thrown back in agonized rapture as his cock erupted inside you. Thick ropes of cum gushed into your still-convulsing depths, splashing the mouth of your womb with hot seed. You could feel him twitching, jerking, and pulsing as he pumped everything he had deep inside, until your pussy was thoroughly and completely drenched with his essence.

When the last shuddering spasm finally left him, Hoshina slumped forward with a groan, catching himself before he collapsed fully on top of your sated frame. Your legs remained tangled around his waist, both of you too blissfully spent to move for several long minutes.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt Hoshina stir above you, a satisfied hum reverberating deep in his chest. Cracking open one eye, you found his mouth curled in a lopsided grin of smug masculine satisfaction, gaze glimmering with pure adoration.

"I didn’t know you could do that," he rasped, eyes dipping to watch the way the last few rivulets of milk trailed in pearlescent streams down your breasts. "If I’d known all it took was some good, rough fuckin' to get ya squirtin' like that, I woulda done it sooner—"

"Shut up," you groaned, cheeks flooding with molten heat. Your hands flew up to cover your face as if they could hide your embarrassment, only to be stopped by the iron bar of Hoshina's forearm.

"Uh uh, no hidin' now, darlin'," he drawled with an easy smirk, leaning forward until his forehead brushed against yours. "Besides, no use being bashful now. I’ve seen all those filthy, gorgeous bits you were tryin' to hide..."

He punctuated his statement with an easy roll of his hips, causing a fresh wave of his seed to trickle from your swollen core and down the curve of your ass. You shuddered in delight, still feeling the aftershocks tingling through your limbs.

"And ya can bet yer pretty little ass I'm gonna see plenty more before the night is through, mama..."

[chessiecc]

Imagine ignoring the 141 guys because your reading a book and don't want to be bothered. They think you live with the reality of books more than people and that you may regret it.

♤ Price would just confiscate the book and keep it with him. Basically, signaling a time out. It's time for you to go hang out with the team and stop living in another world you can live in later. He would be more or less silent about it and would give it back once he felt you had enough time without it.

♡ Ghost would confiscate it as well but give you a harsh, "Stop fucking reading and go touch some grass."

◇ Soap would older brother it. Especially to get your attention. This would end up with you on top of a vending machine, wrestling on the floor, or attempting to chase down Soap from stealing your book. Eventually, if you stopped chasing him or never started, he would come and hang out (after putting it somewhere). Try to get you out of the barracks and attached to other people than your book friends.

♧ Gaz would take the book as well, but may be more inclined to hide it somewhere. He may take it and lock himself in the bathroom while reading it out loud until you agreed to get out and do real people things.

If you ignored them and just grabbed another book to read (or opened it on your phone)

♤ Price would have you sit next to him for the next couple of days after a disappointed dad bit. This or set a few tasks that you "voluntarily need to complete." He would not mind having his Leuitenant see that you were understanding it. He had a reason. you're going to get it.

♡ Ghost does not like to repeat himself. An order is an order. However, he would see right through why you would not put it down. Either he would read with you and maybe find new spots to open you up while reading or he would drop you off in the middle of nowhere and give you a map for yourselves to find a way back.

◇ Soap would have a chat with you. About how he was a little worried. He would then keep going out of his way to make plans with you and others to get you to socializing more.

♧ Gaz would hide your book, your phone, your wallet and keys, and force an activity. If you needed to talk, you can. But the presence was fine to if it was better that way.

[applesontheground]

some of my lies are true 💼

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY ONE - BATH/SHOWER SEX

been reading the novelization recently, as i've mentioned, and being reminded of the one scene with him telling christie to wash herself before fucking her was calling to me when i was mapping out this month and saw the bath prompt...

and come on now, like i wasn't going to set aside at least one day for him, right? revisiting him after starting the book and getting even more of his character than i once thought possible with me has been nuts.

p.s. this reader is a returning PR agent from this fic since i liked that setup a ton. she's slowly becoming an OC in the back of my wip folder, but i have a lot of other things going on so she's not 100% there. (yet.)

NSFW | Word Count: 988 | Patrick Bateman x Female Reader contains canon typical/mr. bateman is his own warning, fingering, mild asphyxiation, biting, two weirdos kissing 🎼: x

Keeping up with multiple affairs had been exhausting since meeting Patrick. That was in both personal and professional lives, and you weren’t being paid to keep up with your personal ones, so that was the one that took the fall.

Visiting on a night he was able to clear the evening from his usual rendezvous, endless business lunches and nights out, he asked if you’d come over, bathe yourself, and then see what the two of you would want after. Gladly, craving that harsh love only he seemed to give, the perspective so cold and yet so tempting, fascinating – especially after you had garnered his attention, his need to have you becoming too intense to tease any more without getting your throat cut over it should his fantasies prove larger than life – you accepted, even worked with him and his schedule. It wasn’t like you needed the plans yourself, also having to be up in the morning for a meeting with your manager.

When you had made your way over, he was already running the bath, and the second the door was closed he had given you a couple love bites around your neck in greeting. Leading you into the bathroom, he talked about what new CD he had bought that day, and also what wine the two of you would be drinking. Even while you undressed, hoping he’d notice you shaved, but not anticipating anything outside of what he wanted to focus on, he was talking about his disappointment with the day's episode of The Patty Winters Show.

“You took my advice.” He then observed when you finally stretched out in the milky water of the tub, a hand on your collarbone and feeling the skin of your chest with a warm hand, “You have a much clearer complexion, and I assume that’s from the cleanser I recommended.”

You nodded, “And the lotion. Great combination, I see why you were swearing on it.” He beamed at that, and then commented, “I want you looking pristine, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other more often.”

“You almost make me sound impressive,” You found another word, sitting up more in the bath with a sarcastic tone, “Exclusive.”

“You are." He corrected, speaking more heavily, "and I’m thinking that you’re playing dumb with me. You know that you are.” He reminded with a hand ghosting around your neck before pulling away. “Especially now that no one else besides me is going to be sleeping with you.”

That was a work in progress, knowing he was still engaged to Evelyn, having a sidepiece discussion with Courtney…and you didn’t believe he was done with any other hookups outside of that. His friends were just as messy and scandalous, and considering you always had a project open at his office, it was a hopeless game to try and fight over. That was something you were going to ask regardless, and even if he lied you knew that he didn’t really care about how you felt now that the two of you were in a comfortable attachment, knowing you wouldn’t resist if he asked you to come over next week despite the truth hanging in front of the both of you.

You then looked up and asked, “I feel selfish, are you getting in the bath too or is this just to watch me?” He stared through you, letting the silence and the sound of the water against the tub fill it, before finally standing up again with another drink from a whisky tumbler. He shouldered his robe off, showing his body to you and satisfied with the way you sized him up.

“Normally, I don’t join with the prostitutes I bring home. The washing is solely for them,” He explained, one leg in the tub and you taking in his physique while listening, “And I don’t think it’d be smart to be in the same bath as them. Don't you think, [Y/N]?”

You grinned, tipping your head as you amicably replied, “Sure.”

“Good.” He lowered in, and then gestured, “Sit between my legs.” You did as you were told, sliding in and letting his arms come around your sides, a casual hand touching you and the other running along your body, soaked in warm water and making you sigh deeply.

“Is MacDermott still picking up trash off the streets at Tunnel?” He asked, and you replied, “Yes. Caught Chlamydia sometime last month, and now it’s my job to hide the break his wife wants to take, keep him from losing composure at work.” Bateman laughed in your ear, breathing against your shoulder as he scrutinized, “Dumb bastard.”

“And what about you?” You then asked, his finger trailing up your sternum now, probably imagining what it would look like if he dug inside with a knife to see it for himself. His morbid thoughts couldn’t help but become yours some nights, especially when he wasn’t indulging you by telling you.

“Evelyn asked me if I would accompany her to a live show, even though she knows I hate it.” He started to rant, splashing you with the water but you digressed in favor of simply listening, “I can’t stand her friends, and of course she invited them too so they can cluck like hens all night, already shrieking about how much she’s always loved George Michael. I could care less.”

You looked up behind you, “Since when did you hate George Michael?”

“Since I first heard him.” He gritted, the hand returning to your neck. He then leaned in with access to your lips from your turn, kissing hard and making sure to bite your bottom lip in a red hot pressure before releasing. The idle hand went back down, once again prodding your entrance and slipping inside when you showed a sign of discomfort.

"Nice of you to shave," He commented, kissing you again as he finally turned the water off.

[divine-misfortune]

Let the reason come on the common tongue

Kinktober day 2: Face fucking

Rating: Explicit

Relationship(s): Mist/Ifrit

Words: 1,184

Tags: Intersex Mist, cunt and dick used for her anatomy, Ifrit has an oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Mist let out a little shriek that turned into a breathless fit of laughter as she’s unceremoniously tossed into the overgrown pile of pillows at the head of Ifrit’s bed.

She wriggled around in the mass of blankets, unsure as to why a fire ghoul of all elements needed so much to keep warm with but not complaining about them in the slightest. They were all soft and smelled a little like the incense Alpha had always been so fond of, sandalwood and a bit like strawberry shortcake, sweet and a little floral. Far from what anyone would expect from Alpha. Mist didn’t mind how plush Ifrit’s bed was, and on any other day she might’ve just rolled over and buried her face into the sheets and refused to budge for a few hours but Ifrit had other plans. 

She’s yanked by the ankles further down the bed towards him, warm calloused hands pushed under the hem of her tank top and bunched the fabric just over the small swell of her tits. Thumbs working in tandem, he circled both rosy buds in time with each other, fixated on just how pebbled they were before he’d even touched them. 

Ifrit bit his lip and slowly drew his neatly filed claws down her sides, purposefully ghosting over the gills fluttering expectantly. Simply grinned like the devil when she made a face, she didn’t know why she continued to let fire ghouls bed her. Bastards, all of them. But despite that, she still arched off the mattress in order to follow the bite of his nails. At least Ifrit made an effort to declaw himself, she wouldn’t be wearing violently red welts for a week. 

He flicked his orange eyes up to hold her gaze and began mapping out a path of wet, open mouthed kisses down the line of her body. Over her sternum, down her stomach, forked tongue going so far as to trace the soft line of her belly before flicking at her navel. Mist hissed halfheartedly, giving his broad shoulder a weak smack.

“Get on with it before I change my mind,” she warned but her tone remained amused. 

“And to think I took you for the patient one.” 

“Sorely mistaken, cherry bomb. Now,” the spade of her tail batted him on the nose “I don’t want another word from you unless you’re choking on my dick while you say ‘em.”

Ifrit rolled his eyes and gave her belly a playful nip that had her glaring. He decided to put his teeth to better use at least, taking the tie of her sweatpants in his teeth to pull the bow loose. He hummed and Mist lifted her hips off the bed, making the awkward dance of shimmying her pants off before discarding them to some far off corner the slightest bit easier. Helpful, but Ifrit had seen enough pretty faced water ghouls to hold a slight suspicion of her actions, those fish had plenty of self serving tricks up their sleeves.

Her legs fell apart for him as he skimmed his touch up the inside of her calves, and she reached down to frame her half chubbed cock and her cunt between her fingers. Ifrit licked his lips like a hungry dog, eyes drawn like a magnet to the sight. He laid on his belly and rubbed a stubbled cheek against her thigh, very obviously drinking in her scent before diving in. 

That devilish tongue licked deep into her core for a mouthful of slick, always one to savor the taste before the meal. She tried not to gasp but he managed to draw it right out of her. Ifrit gave the tip of her cock an experimental kitten lick to watch it jump against her mound then proceeded to swallow her down in one go - not that she was terribly hard to accommodate to begin with. 

“Shh…it.” Mist dragged her hand through her hair. Dizzied from the feeling of her cock properly filling out in the impossible heat of his mouth. “That’s good, dragonfly…Just hold it for a second. Get it fully hard, I want to enjoy that mouth.”

Ifrit hummed and the vibration of it made her dick throb against the flat of his tongue, hissing out a curse. His tail waved lazily as his eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering lightly against his cheeks. She could watch the way his lips wrapped around it for hours but gave up, head falling back into the pillows to stare up at the ceiling. Such a pretty shade of pink bordering on red like he’d spent the better part of their afternoon sucking at a cherry lollipop instead of driving her up the walls by simply existing with that charming smile and those strong arms. 

Mist sighed and reached out to drag her fingers through his already mussed up hair, soft strands she could thread through like silk. Ifrit looked to her, propping himself up on his elbows, he exhaled heavily through his nose, hot breath tickling over her skin. Exhaling out that last little bit of tension and easing fully down the last few centimeters of her dick. 

“Ready?” Another hum that had her breath hitching. Devil knew what he was doing. 

Mist brought her other hand to his hair, wiggling knobby fingers to twist up at the roots till she found a good solid grip. Maybe a bit tighter than necessary but it was the way she knew Ifrit liked to be handled. His jaw relaxed as she tugged his head back. Fingers flexed in the sheets on either side of her hips, clearly getting restless. She’d have rolled her eyes or called him an overeager whore for the impatience but with him in such prime positioning she really was no better.

Like sliding home, she bucked off the bed. Tip of her cock grazing the back of his throat, just enough to trigger that urge to gag but not quite. His tongue was heavenly, the stud piercing it was an albeit strange sensation but added something maddening to the experience. Fire ghouls were her favorite, and she’d take that fact to her grave.

The first few thrusts up into his mouth were slow. Experimental. Trying to find just the right way to bury her cock in his throat. A cautious up and down, feet planted on the mattress to leverage herself. The muscles in her thighs flexed with effort when she finally decided on a satisfying pace. Short twitches upwards paired with her yanking his face down to meet her movements. 

Mist found herself panting rather quickly. Sweat beaded at her brow, clumsily working her way closer to the burn of promised bliss. Ifrit however already seemed there, drool slicking his chin, the glow of his eyes burning no brighter than embers. Always happy to find himself in a position like this, being taken. It was almost relaxing for the fire ghoul, responsibility plucked from his hands, brain forced to slow, and she was more than happy to provide. 

She just hoped she could last long enough for it to do the job. 

[seeingivy]

how to fight 

roommate eren x f!reader 

battleships sink beneath the waste (of you and eren)

**read the mini series masterlist here 

content warning: baby (LOL), porco + pieck softness, porco x y/n family feud, someone calls hitch a snitch, fight between u and eren :( 

an: sorry for da holdup. I was trying to map out how I want the rest of the things to go before I write the rest of the chapters but I think i’ve got most of it down. fun things in store :D and for the anons who are requesting scenes and dialogue for this story in the ask box....all in good time you guys. im taking very detailed notes keep it coming. 

previous part linked here

- 

You lean over, pressing your fingers against the side of Ethan’s cheek, his breath ghosting against your hand. You swear he gets bigger every time you see him, his tiny hands huge compared to when you saw him last. Therapy is expensive, your best friend's newborn baby is free. 

Porco’s big eyes, Pieck’s soft nose - the perfect mix of the two people you love the most. Something about him - his life being confined to Porco, Pieck, and occasionally you and Gabi- was soothing. He doesn’t have to worry about these things - about your friends ditching you, having a crush on your roommate, who is dating a girl you can’t help but hate. 

You hear Ethan’s breathing hitch in his sleep, the thought leaving your mind, as he turns over on his side to face you. His fingers are clutched around yours, his hold soft. You silently wonder what else he’ll inherit from them. Pieck’s smile, Porco’s ashy blonde hair, the distinct Galliard dimples. 

“Why are you staring at my kid like that?” 

You turn to find Porco glaring at you, his permanent ever annoyed look pressed on his face. He’s going to get wrinkles by the time he’s thirty. 

“Praying he doesn’t get your receding hairline, Galliard.” you whisper, your hand moving back to Ethan’s little tuft of hair. 

“I get you’re having some whole crisis thing but do you have to take it out on me? You’re freeloading in my house right now.”

At the sound of Porco’s voice, significantly louder than your quiet whispers, Ethan eyes immediately flutter open, his tiny little cries filling up the space of the room. 

“Good job, Pock. Now he’s crying.” 

“Shut up.” 

Porco rolls his eyes at you, reaching to take Ethan from the crib. He’s lifted him up, whispering soft coos into his ears as Pieck rushes in the room, her fingers swiping the tears off of Ethan’s cheeks. Sparkling black hair, soft smile - the same as when you met her. 

After a few minutes, Ethan calms down, his tiny little eyes fluttering back to sleep. You take him from Porco, who begrudgingly hands him over, and set him back down in his crib. You linger for a few seconds, your face pressed against his crib as you watch his listen to his breaths, his tiny chest moving up and down with each one. You only move when you’re forced to - by Pieck linking her arm with yours, leading you downstairs. 

“Who woke him up?” 

“Twerp.” 

“Pock.” 

You both turn to glare at each other, as Pieck hands you the plates to set at the table. You and Porco move around each other, shoving each other each time you pass by.  

“He’s trying to kick me out. After I so graciously dropped everything to come spend time with you guys. Babysat your kid for free.” 

“He’s your godson. You should have come sooner. And stop using my kid to run away from your problems, Y/N.” 

Three days ago, Eren told you that he thought the two of you were a mistake. That he was dating the girl who in all senses of the word was everything you weren’t and he had been. Off and on, for a while. Screw you for wanting to get away from that, be surrounded by two people who actually wanted you around.

You couldn’t face Eren. You couldn’t handle him making you breakfast in the morning, listening to the music you liked, brushing his hand against yours when he walked past you. So you decided you weren’t going to. Not until you had to. 

So you picked up your keys and drove two hours to Marley, to visit Porco and Pieck. And their five month old son, Ethan. Your godson. 

“Leave her alone, Porco.” 

Pieck squeezes your shoulder as the three of you settle into the table to eat. You can feel the tears rising to your eyes, the thought of returning and leaving the little bubble you were in for the past few days, to find Hitch and Eren in your apartment. 

“I just wanted to see you guys. You always made me feel better. Ethan too.” 

You look up to find Porco looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically soft. Somehow his annoyed face is better than this. 

“Hey. Want me to beat him up, twerp?” 

“You can’t hit a girl, Porco.”

“Clean out your earwax. I meant your roommate, but I can get Snitch if you want too. Pieck’s got real bony knuckles, I’m sure it would hurt.” 

“It’s Hitch, honey.” 

“Same thing. Who names their kid a verb?” 

“Pock, a lot of names are verbs. Like Bob or Sue.” 

“Being a smartass isn’t a good look on you babe.” 

You press the back of your hands against your cheek, wiping your tears off, as you laugh at Pieck and Porco’s bantering. You don’t miss the way Porco tangles his hand into hers, Porco raising Pieck’s hand to press a kiss to it to shut her up. You remember the first time he did it, on that stupid bench you met them on years ago. 

Pieck moved into the house across from you, when you were in the third grade. She was four years your senior, a very cool seventh grader. You distinctly remember her marching over to your yard, big black combat boots, right to where you were playing with Gabi. 

You saw her the next day at school, her ankles tangled over each other as she sat alone on the bench outside your classroom. Alone. You walked over, pushing yourself into the seat next to hers.

“Hi Pieck.” 

“Hey kid. Enjoying recess?” 

You nodded, playing with the ends of your hair as she looked down at you. Some part of her was always intimidating. Like she was ice cold. But the way she smiled was soft, the lines by her eyes spreading when she did. Contradicting, in every sense of the matter. 

“Yeah. Did you make any friends yet?” 

“Just one. His name’s Porco.” 

“Don’t you want more?” 

“Not really. He’s all I need. Him and you, of course.” 

You remember your heart swelling in your chest - the thought of a seventh grader, big and mighty, wanting to be friends with you. The two of you sat in silence, swinging the ends of your legs on the bench. 

You had always appreciated that about Pieck, even at eight years old - that the two of you could sit in the quiet, without having to say anything. Porco idled by a few minutes later, taking the seat directly next to Pieck. 

“Who’s the twerp?” 

“My friend, Porco. This is Y/N.” 

He nods, wordlessly splitting the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he had in half and handing one piece of it to Pieck. You never understood it, the gesture. Or when they started dating. You just remember one day, their hands were pressed together on the bench. They never let go after that. 

You’ve tried to make sense of it. At their wedding, right before Pieck walked down the aisle, you turned to Porco and asked him why he gave her half of his sandwich, sat with her on the bench, pressed his hand against hers. You figured he’d say something cheesy you can tell his ugly kids. 

“I just felt like I knew her forever. I saw her on the field, staring at the sky, and just wanted to be near her.” 

You still didn’t understand, but you nodded, turning your head back down the aisle that Pieck was going to walk down in a few seconds. 

“Don’t settle till you find that guy.” 

“Which one, Pock?” 

“The one who knows the second he meets you.” 

“You’re corny. I hope your vows are better than this.” 

And they were. You feel Pieck reach over the table, crushing your knuckles in her hand. You look up at the two of them, at the soft little life they live. Sweet tea in the summer, hands pressed together, no other people involved. Except for you, of course. 

“I’ll leave after dinner, guys. I should go back anyway. But I might come back the second I see him.” 

“I’ll leave the door open, kid.” 

“Thanks Pock.” 

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes, again, this time falling down your cheeks. The two of them get up from their chairs, their arms around yours.  You squeeze their arms, focusing on this sensation as you brace yourself for your return home. 

Therapy’s expensive, but violent threats and your best friends are free. 

- 

You jam your door into the key, making it back to Shiganshina a little close to midnight. You thank your stars for Eren’s soccer practices being early in the morning, which virtually guarantees he’ll already be fast asleep in his room. 

You swing the door open, flicking on the hallway light as you silently move around. You find that the apartment is slightly messier than usual, Eren’s things strewn all across the room. You leave for three days and he thinks he owns the place. 

As you move to put the dirty dishes in the sink, you hear Eren’s door swing open immediately, cursing yourself for choosing the loudest chore to complete. You should have just put his hoodies in the laundry or something. 

“Y/N?” 

His voice is hoarse, like he’s struggling to get the words out. You look up and find him inches away from you, his arms pressed into the chair. His green eyes are marked by a rim of pink, his shoulders slumped over. 

“Hey Eren.” 

He leans over, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and squeezing. His eyes are still half closed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. You can smell his minty soap wafting off of him and lean back against the counter to distance yourself from it. 

“Am I imagining you or are you really here?” 

“Really here, Eren.” 

You feel his hands tense on your shoulders, his fingers lightly pushing into your skin. 

“I haven’t seen you in three days.” 

“I went to see Porco and Pieck for the weekend.” 

“It’s Tuesday. You could have at least let me know before you left.” 

You hum in acknowledgement, still rinsing the dishes in the sink. You try to focus on the sensation, the warm water splashing against your wrists and the cold plates against your hands. You try to ignore his words, each one leaving stinging, burning, agony in your chest. You’d run back to Porco and Pieck’s now if he wasn’t standing right there. Even the smell of him is petrifying. 

You feel him forehead get heavier on your shoulder, pushing farther into you. 

“I was worried about you.” 

Screw him. Screw him, his stupid words, his sweet smell, and his sad little face for making you feel this way. For wanting to reach forward and press yourself against him till he felt better. For him to wrap his arms around you, press featherlike kisses to your cheeks until you felt better too. You shrug him off, the movement making him stand up straight. 

“Sorry Eren.” 

“It’s okay. You wake up Porco and Pieck with your morning concert while you were there?” 

You clench the plate pressed in your hands so hard it shatters, the glass spreading across the length sink. 

“Screw you, Eren.”

“What?” 

“I’m so sick of you making fun of me all the time. If something I do annoys you, you should just tell me instead of making passive aggressive comments.” 

You watch the confusion spread across his face, as he leans over to take your hands out of your sink, where the shards were still lying against the drain. You pull your hands back, pressing them into your sides as you can feel your searing growing in your chest - in anger, irritation, hurt.

“Hey, what happened? You could never annoy me, peaches. I was just teasing you.” 

You shake your head, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. No. You were not going to cry in front of him. 

“Hey, hey. Talk to me. What happened?”

“You happened. I’m not something for you to laugh at Eren. I have feelings too, you know?” 

You push past him, swiping your things off the counter, and slamming your door shut behind you. You feel bad about it, leaving him there when he was just trying to comfort you. But that’s just the thing. The hand that burned you can’t make it better, can it?

- 

next part linked here

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[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎTender is the Night (Part Two)⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: mentions of death/dying, angst pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: fem reader x ghost billy the kid author’s note: (modern au) based partially on @goosita ghost billy au (which I've been dying for an excuse to write for) which is based on lisa frankenstein (love) Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The threads separating life and death are gossamer, as fine as spiderwebs and nearly as breakable. It is a ragged veil that hangs over mortality, fluttering in an invisible wind and offering those encased a glimpse of the other side.

He was nearly a shadow, clinging to the edges of the graveyard, haunting without really haunting. It was as if he’d been swallowed except for the final drop left in his shape, retaining the same pain as someone breathing.

All this time he'd thought the world cruel for keeping him here with no purpose- just aimlessly wandering with nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him. He was well aware that punishment was reasonable- he hadn't exactly been a good man.

Maybe not so bad a man as he'd thought. Not if you'd come his way.

You spent your free time with him, lying side by side with him on the grassy expanse of his grave. Sometimes you brought homework or a book with you, sometimes you played music. And sometimes you abandoned all of it in favor of listening to him.

Slowly, he began to tell you about his few years on earth. Of his passage to America. Of the deaths of his family. How he was thrust into the life of an outlaw without so much as a say. You listened fascinatedly, like nobody else had. Even while he'd had a beating heart and air in his lungs he hadn't been such a point of fascination to anybody. No, he'd been simply existing, no better than his current ghostly form.

Billy felt more alive with you than he ever had when he was breathing.

“How do you think we’d have met in your time?” you murmured one day, lying on your side with your hair tumbling down over your shoulders like a waterfall.

Billy hummed, his hand half wound through a strand. "Maybe at the bar one night. I'd buy you a drink 'n we'd get to talkin'."

You giggled, leaning your cheek on your hand. "I'd have liked that."

"Me too," was his response, murmured as he watched you watch him. Suddenly the great divide between life and death didn't seem as prominent. It was such a delicate thing, yet unbreakable.

Two souls, existing in the wrong space of time. Maybe that was the reason he was made to haunt the earth so long after his supposed permanent disappearance. Maybe all these years of being lonely and feeling neglected were paid for the gift of you.

"I wasn't a good man," he confessed, tracing stars onto your arm and imagining them taking shape, leaving patterns that marked the fact that he was real to you. It was still unclear why exactly he was able to touch you now. Or why you were able to see him. But you were the common denominator. It couldn't be a coincidence that the best thing to happen to him in a century and the revelation of his existence had overlapped. "Dunno if that's been absolved...with death 'n all. But it stays with me. 's if it was yesterday."

You hummed, fingers twiddling with a blade of grass before your wrist. He knew nearly every quirk about you at this point, could read you like a map, chart the nature of what you were about to say. But he'd never deem to guess exactly what that would be. You had a way of surprising him in the best of ways. "You know...I don't believe in the idea of people being good or bad."

"Hm?" Billy blinked at you, the pads of his fingers pausing their motions on your skin.

Turning your head to face the sky, blue in all its glory with fluffy white clouds adorning the expanse of it, you let your eyelashes touch your cheek once before continuing. "People are full of a million intentions and thoughts and feelings. Not all of them can be defined. Not all of them are ever revealed. I don't think it's all measured up against us."

Billy let the quiet talk for a moment as he thought about it, the idea taking space, filling the gap more wholly than guilt ever could. His features lightened, and you smiled at the sight, moving forward and reaching for his hand. He expected your fingers to pass through his form, occupy the space inside the outline. But instead your warm palm sat atop his knuckles, making you both look up.

“Did…?” your question trailed off, as if you weren’t exactly sure what you should be asking.

“Yes.” Billy turned his palm over, letting yours touch it. He was in utter disbelief. First he could touch you and now you could touch him. Something was brightening from the inside, warming him and lighting everything up. It intensified when he looked at you, watching the way your lips parted, the wonder fill your eyes. It was like you were seeing him for the first time.

After that, it was like you couldn't keep your hands off each other. Whenever you came over you were touching him in some way; holding his hand, rubbing his arm, or his personal favorite- lying with your head on his chest. It almost made him feel like a person again, lying among the flowers with a pretty girl in his arms.

With every day, he could feel the weight of emotions he hadn't felt in decades holding him to earth, as if heaven or hell wouldn't let him in due to his love.

Due to his love.

He realized it one day as you were lazily resting with your hair spread across him, and he was thumbing your cheek. In your hands was a copy of Romeo and Juliet, one of your favorites, you'd told him. Every now and then you'd stop and read a passage to him, and he'd smile, enchanted by your love for it.

“Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night,” you recited, and he could hear your smile in your voice.

My heart didn't love until now, he thought casually. And then it hit him, a rod of lightning from the sky.

You were his sun, his moon. You were the light after centuries of darkness. You cared for him, astounded him with your sweetness, with your view of the world. This had to be the reason he could now touch you. because you were his reason for everything now.

You made him feel alive again.

Once he realized it, he felt frozen. He was a ghost in love with a living girl. Billy had never heard anything more hopeless. He felt as though he were yelling into a void. Before he had thanked the higher powers for gifting you to him, but now he was sure this was some kind of torment. Bringing the sweetest, kindest girl he'd ever known into his afterlife and making it so he couldn't have her. Was there ever a crueler thing?

You looked up at him with the most darling of smiles then, shifting on his chest and reaching up for his hand while keeping hold of the book. Billy couldn't help his smile, and he tangled his fingers with yours. An abundance of that old familiar glowing feeling warmed him again, and he disregarded all previous thoughts.

You were worth every bit of it.

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3 also HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUEEN!!!!!

[k-nayee]

Muse Benson Boone

wc: 3.2k a/n: Song Inspiration: once again Death Wish Love by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!! ngl y'all, I kinda have it down bad for ya boi here. smh just had to make one for him😭😭

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

It wasn’t hard to remember the first time you met Benson Boone.

You hadn’t expected much from the day, just a casual introduction Katy insisted on making when he was fresh off American Idol.

I mean, the Katy Perry? Who were you to refuse?

Besides you weren’t exactly a seasoned pro yourself—still finding your own rhythm in the music industry.

And so, it started off with little things: drafts of songs, small tweaks here and there.

You helped him refine early tracks, most notably Ghost Town—the one that truly put him on the map.

After that he started coming to you more and more. As his fame grew, so did your friendship. Pretty soon you became one of his permanent co-writers.

Now years later, you’d both grown up around each other. You’d seen him go through breakups, career stresses, and moments of doubt.

And he’d seen you juggle college, deal with your own personal issues, and (more than once) whine about how finding a decent guy seemed impossible.

Benson would always chuckle at that and tease you with lighthearted remarks, but you both knew that dating wasn’t really something you prioritized.

Maybe it was because of your grandfather’s old-school advice—always reminding you that most men wanted one thing which was what was between your legs.

It was drilled into your head so much that even when someone did show interest, you were quick to put them off.

Benson had been the exception to a lot of your rules though. Him and that attractive boy-next-door smile and the messy curls....

Ahem. Anyways.

There was even a brief period of time (you 18, him 20) when you felt a flicker of something more.

You would be hyper-aware of his closeness, how your heart would skip when he leaned in too close. But you’d buried those feelings fast.

He was your friend and he didn’t need you complicating that.

Now at 19, you were over it. Whatever crush you’d harbored was long gone, and Benson seemed content with your dynamic too.

He had never shown any romantic interest in you—he was always tangled up in his own relationships. And you?

You had your songwriting, your studies, and your life to keep you busy. There was no room to think about him like that.

But things had a funny way of changing...

You were in the studio with Benson. He was sitting across from you, head tipped back as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally breaking the silence, “I just feel like everything I’m writing sounds the same.”

You glance up from your laptop, eyebrow raised. “You’re in a funk. It happens.”

He groans in response, still staring at the ceiling. “Yeah but it’s more than that. I want to try something new...something different.”

You lean back in your chair and wait for him to elaborate. He sits up suddenly, eyes narrowing with thought before they flicker to yours.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins before pausing for dramatic effect. “What if I tried something in the country genre?”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Country music? You?”

He rolls his eyes in attempt to play it off as if it’s no big deal, but you can see the determination behind them. “Why not?”

You lean forward with a smirk. “Let me guess: bit by the Cowboy Cater bug, huh? Beyoncé's album got you feeling all rustic and rugged?”

He laughed a little flustered, shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I just—” He hesitated, and that’s when you caught it.

Beneath his usual confidence there was something else. Uncertainty.

Benson was never unsure when it came to his music, but this? It was new territory for him.

“I want to branch out, you know? Try something that’s different from what I’ve been doing.”

You watched him carefully, noticing the way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair.

For all the joking, there was a frustration underneath it. He felt he wasn’t as creative as he usually was and it was bothering him.

After a beat of silence, you nod and cross your arms. “I get it. You’re ready to shake things up.”

“Exactly,” his expression relaxes a little as he saw you weren’t just teasing him anymore.

You pause when a spark of an idea hits you. “You know...I think I might know just the place to help kickstart your country boy era.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

A grin spread across your face.  “What if we went to my hometown? You’ll find all the inspiration you need there.”

There’s a beat of silence as Benson considers your offer, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’d really take me down there?”

“Why not?” you say with a shrug. “Could be fun. And you’ll get all the authentic country vibes you’re looking for.”

He chuckles with a small nod. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

You beamed, already buzzing with excitement. “Great! I’ll book everything. Trust me you’re going to love it.”

He smiled back, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he turned away. “I trust you.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The moment you and Benson roll into your hometown, the air feels different.

It’s been a while since you’ve been back home, and the nostalgia washes over you in waves the closer you drive.

You catch Benson glancing out the window as if he's trying to soak in the vibe of the small Southern town.

After a few minutes of driving, he finally breaks the silence. “So...are we heading straight to the hotel?”

You glance at him with a sly grin. “Actually I’ve got a better idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued but doesn’t press. He’s always trusted you, especially when it comes to things like this. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling up to the familiar gates of Chickadee Country Club.

As the headlights sweep over the sign, memories of summer jobs, long shifts, and late-night laughs flood your mind.

Rolling down the window as you approach the security gate, the guard’s flashlight flickers over your car before the beam lands on you.

A wide grin breaks across the guard’s face the moment he recognizes you. “Well I’ll be damned! Ain’t that [Mom Name]’s girl? What you doin’ down here sweetheart? Thought you’d be up there with the big-time celebs writin’ them songs and whatnot.”

You roll your eyes already smiling. “Very funny, Earl. I’m here for a job.”

Earl lets out a laugh, his wrinkled face creasing in amusement. “A job huh? What, you run outta money already?”

“Ha ha, ya got me.” you say dryly, shooting him a sarcastic look. “Now will you let me through Earl? Or are you gonna keep me out here all night ya old coot?”

Earl chuckles as the gate slowly begins to open.

“Well since ya asked so nicely,” he drawls, flashing you a wink. “Don’t get lost now. Place ain’t changed much, but it still got a way of confusin’ city folk.”

As you pull through Benson snorts beside you. “Ran out of money huh?” he asks with a teasing grin as you park into the parking space.

You shrug. “Times are tough.”

Stepping out of the car, you glance back at him as he follows. “C’mon. I want to show you where the magic happens.”

Benson lets out a low whistle. “So this is where you worked?”

“Yup. Chickadee Country Club. I basically lived here for years.”

He raise an eyebrow as he get into step beside you. “So what did you do here? Let me guess—bev cart girl?”

You let out a loud laugh at that. “God, no. Everything else but that. Food running, banquet serving, bartending... you name it, I did it.”

“Bartending before 21?” His eyes widen slightly as he looks over at you. “But isn't that like—”

“Illegal?” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, leaning in just a little closer. “Just don’t tell anyone. Shhhh”

He lets out a laugh at that, the sound warm in the cooling night air.

Your smile soften at the sight, but before he could notice you brush it off and elbow him lightly.

“Welp! Who knows,” you jump a head of him with a pep in your step, “might even meet the love of your life here.”

Benson huffs with a shake of his head as he watches you head toward the glass doors of the club.

His gaze lingers, the fondness inside his chest growing the longer he watches you.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Hopefully.”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

You push open the glass doors of the country club, stepping into the familiar scent of polished wood and faint lemon cleaner.

It’s closing time and the place is quiet, but you can already hear the distant chatter of a few late-night staffers finishing up for the evening.

Benson lingers behind you, eyes sweeping over the dark wood paneling and framed photos of golf tournaments long past.

“____! Well look what the cat dragged in!”

You barely have time to react before Mirabel, one of your old coworkers, rushes up to you with open arms.

She pulls you into a tight hug, her dark curls bouncing as she lets out an excited squeal.

“Mirabel!” you laugh as you hug her back. “Long time no see.”

Mirabel pulls away just long enough to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with surprise. “Señorita where have you been? I thought you’d abandoned us all for the fancy Hollywood life!”

“Not quite,” you joke before perking up when your gaze fell on a familiar petite figure hunched over the computer nearby.

Taylor. She hasn’t changed a bit—still the same auburn ponytail bouncing behind her and freckles splashed across her pale skin like stars in the night sky.

You grab Benson’s arm in excitement as you whisper, “You want country inspiration right?”

Without waiting for an answer you pull him towards her.

“Taylor!” you call once close enough.

The redhead glances up, and for a split second, confusion crosses her face before recognition hits.

Her expression transforms and lights up like a firework. “Well slap my ass and call me a biscuit! ____! Where the hell have you been girl?”

Her thick Southern twang makes you giggle as you rush over to give her a tight hug. “I’ve been round! You know, making music and living that L.A. life. But I’m back for a few days to work on a new project.”

Taylor's green eyes brighten with curiosity. “Oh yeah? What kinda project?”

You glance back at Benson who’s offering a sheepish smile.

Before you can even introduce him, Taylor’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“Oh my God,” she's starstruck. “Benson Boone! I didn’t know you were friends with the Benson Boone!”

You suppress a laugh as Benson waves shyly. “Hi uh...nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet—girl, do you know how fine he is in real life?” Taylor mutters under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

You bite back a grin knowing full well that Benson heard it too by the way he flushes.

“Yeah I’ve noticed,” you reply with a wink, earning a playful slap on the arm from Taylor.

She’s just about to launch into another flurry of questions, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps catches your attention.

“My baby!” 

Before you can react, you’re snatched into a familiar embrace and smothered in kisses.

“Oh ____! My sweet baby!” Your mom’s voice echoes in the lobby as she holds onto you, her grip like iron. “When did you get here? You weren’t even gonna tell your own mama you were home?”

“Hey Ma...” you mumble, struggling to breathe as she finally pulls back.

Your mom’s tearful face quickly morphs into one of irritation, and before you can say a word, she smacks you upside the head. “Uh ow?”

“Now when the hell did you get here? And where are you even staying?” she demands, hands on her hips now. “You couldn’t even come stay at the house? What, you ashamed of where you were raised?!”

“Ma please,” you groan, already feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck as you catch Benson’s teasing gaze from the corner of your eye. “I just got in tonight, and I’m staying at a hotel because—well, there won't be any room at the house. I’ve got company.”

You gesture over to Benson who offers your mom an awkward wave. Her stern expression melts instantly the moment she sees him.

“Oh? And who is this handsome fella?” She strides over to Benson, sizing him up with a playful smile. Her hand reaches out to pinch his cheek. “You ____’s boyfriend?”

“Ma!” You practically shriek, feeling your face heat up.

“That’s Benson Boone Miss [Mom’s Name],” Taylor chimes in, still wide-eyed and giddy. “He’s like, one of the biggest artists right now. You know that song Ghost Town? That’s him!”

Your mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her smile widening with delight. She turns back to you with an amused glint in her eye.

“Oh Benson...Ain’t he that boy you used to gush about all the time? Didn’t you have the biggest crush on him or something?”

Your stomach flips and you feel like the ground just dropped out from under you.

'Did she really just say that?' You’re suddenly hyper-aware of Benson standing right beside you, and when you glance at him, you can see the surprise in his eyes.

He’s looking at you now, and it makes your pulse race.

“Wha—I—” you stammer, trying to think of anything to say that will save you from this situation. “I didn’t—psssh, what are you—” You wave your hand dismissively, avoiding Benson’s eyes completely.

“Anyway uh, Taylor!” You shift gears so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I heard you’re throwing a party tonight. Mind if we crash?”

Taylor’s head perks up immediately, her excited energy pulling everyone back into a lighter mood. “Oh! You saw my post huh? Yeah we’re havin’ a get-together at the ranch. Y’all should definitely come!”

She turns to your mom. “Miss [Mom’s Name], you wanna join too?”

Your mom waves her off with a chuckle. “Oh honey, I’m not as spry as I used to be for these late-night things.”

Taylor leans in conspiratorially. “My single uncle’s gonna be there...you know, the one with the salt-n-pepper beard?”

Your mom raises an eyebrow. “The one with the big truck and cattle ranch?”

Taylor nods eagerly. 

Without missing a beat, your mom starts unties her apron and toss it onto a nearby table. “Well what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s get to that party!”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

As you and Benson pull up to Taylor’s family ranch, the sounds of laughter and music spill into the air.

The party’s already in full swing—bonfires flickering across the open field and the twang of guitars blending with the rhythm of boots stomping on wooden boards.

You can see people dancing in pairs, moving in perfect sync as the night seems to pulse with life.

Benson stood next to you. His eyes dart everywhere, from the rows of fairy-string lights that hung between the trees to the smoky haze from the fire pits that slowly disappeared into the star-filled sky.

You can tell he’s taking it all in—the Southern atmosphere, the energy, the warmth of it all.

“Overwhelmed yet?” your tone is light when you ask with a grin.

He chuckles and shake his head. “Nah this is...different. In a good way.”

“Well get ready to be fully indoctrinated into Southern fun,” you tease before stepping toward the party. “Come on city boy.”

He follows behind you, staying close by your side.

There’s a brief pause when you both reach the edge of the party. It almost seemed like the music’s vibrations are in the air itself, buzzing with a wild kind of energy.

Taylor spots you immediately from where she’s mingling with some friends and makes a beeline for you. “Well look at what the wind blew in!” she exclaims.

In one hand she holds a light-up cowboy hat, and in the other, a bundle of glowstick necklaces. “Here y’all gonna need these.”

She places the cowboy hat on your head with a flourish and tosses a couple of glowsticks over Benson’s shoulders, the neon bands glowing faintly against his dark shirt.

Benson laughs, awkwardly adjusting the glowsticks around his neck. “What do you think? Do I look the part?”

You smirk, tugging the hat lower on your head. “You’re getting there. Just need to find you a pair of cowboy boots and you’ll be all set.”

Taylor nudges you with her elbow. “C'mon! What are y’all? Stalks of corn waiting to be shucked or sum? Get out there and have some fun!”

Letting out a laugh, you turn to Benson who’s watching the dancers with something like curiosity—and maybe just a hint of apprehension.

“You decide what you’re gonna write about yet wannabe-country boy?” You peer at him through your lashes, leaning closer so he can hear you speak over the loud music.

Your warm breath against his skin makes him shiver.

You miss the way his gaze flickers to your lips before darting back to your eyes, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

He clears his throat, trying to shake off the strange unexpected reaction. “Uh...n-not yet no.”

Your smile softens and you give him a reassuring nudge. “You’ll get there. You always do. Just let me know when inspiration strikes, ‘kay?”

With that, you give him a final playful wink before spinning away to join Taylor on the dance floor.

You’re immediately pulled into the rhythm of the music, laughing as Taylor spins you around.

From the sidelines Benson watches, standing next to your mom who has already struck up a conversation with someone nearby (but she kept an eye on him).

And honestly? He can’t take his eyes off you.

Under the string lights and with the bonfire flickering in the distance, there’s something different about you tonight.

You’re radiant, laughing freely as your face lights up with a glow that has nothing to do with the hat Taylor tossed on your head.

You move through the world so effortlessly, so full of life....

It was in this moment Benson realized just how much he enjoys your presence.

Yeah he always loved having you around, but now there’s something else—a shift, subtle but undeniable.

Lyrics begin to form through his mind, each word tied to the way you moved, to the weight of this new unfamiliar feeling.

How could something so delicate also be dangerous?

His heart beats a little faster, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You glance back at him from the dance floor and something warm and unfamiliar settles in his chest.

I get so terrified that I’m gonna lose you...And I’ll die if I do...

You smile and wave him over, but Benson stays where he is. Instead he's frozen by this sudden, terrifying realization that he might be falling for you.

As if sensing what he was thinking, your mom nudges him gently. “Found your inspiration yet sweetheart?”

Her voice pulls him back to the present, but his gaze never leaves as you dance under the glow of the lights.

A soft, breathless sigh escapes him as he answers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah...I think I have.”

It's a death wish love...

[aluria-sevhex]

I BEAT THE GAME

a solid 3rd of my ISAT notes on my phone are just from 'today' (writing this past midnight lol)

my ISAT masterpost

every post in this series is also tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

please note that there's a bunch of notes in this post because i was still in Act 3 at the beginning of this post lol

-i'm not playing it rn but i have decided to break my 'no looking stuff up' rule so i know where to go to make Sif rember what they say when carving stuff

[WRITING TUMBLR POST ALURIA NOTE: i later looked up maps of the House to help me keep track of stuff lol]

-ok now i know. i like figuring things out myself but i could not fucking remember lol.

-i have a really long car ride so. MORE ISAT

-title theme shout-out

-Sif tripped on a rock. "you're clumsy and not at all threatening and overpowered compared to them!" :(

-they almost forgot to catch Isa :(

-dang, Siffrin didn't say nya this time D:

-hehe they hit it back. one could say it's a... COUNTER-attack B)

-SIFFRIN GHOST ON THE WAY TO THE DORM

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET THE SHARPENING STONE

-fuck it i was planning to loop back after finding out what to say anyway

-ah don't i also need to find more i fo on the King somewhere? eh i can do that on the next loop... so much to keep track of...

-LMAO. THE PHRASE SIF SAYS. "please don't look bad please don't look bad please don't look bad" BIG FUCKING MOOD TBH

-Sif on his way to talk to their tools and project while carving or sharpening:

-aight time to die lmao

-Loop my belooped

-hm... it's Loop's job to remember Siffrin's mistakes...

-"you don't have to remember to yell' always gets me :(

-I FOUND THE ARTICLES

-ok so currently i'm thinking that the King and Siffrin are probably from the same place. which may or may not be where Loop is from and/or the disappearing island and/or connected to the color thing.

this game has a lot of weird shit going on.

-Bonnie doesn't know what a star is

-OH FUCK NO. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO GO TO THE OBSERVATORY. I'M LEAVING THAT FOR A LATER LOOP.

-another ghost :0

-ISAT: 📚

ISAT if Siffrin could pick locks: 📕

-WHAT. "you used to find them disgusting, but someone you knew loved them, so you tried them."

"someone you knew?"

"who?"

O_O

-aw, Isa hugged Mira on this bathroom trip

-"you wish for rest" yeah...

-"please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp"

-the Keyknife is now the Knifekey. WAIT. THIS MEANS IN THE FUTURE I CAN DO OTHER SHIT ON FLOOR 3. HELL FUCKING YES.

-wait. OH C'MON. boooooooo

-i picked malanga fritters and almost skipped past something that seems important. they remind Siffrin of his parents? :0 their head hurt...

-"BECAUSE YOU FORCED THEM TO!" :(

-"where r u from" "no u"

-JUST FUCKING CONFESS ISA FJHDHEJKSMXMDKSKS

-*sighs* guess i should talk to her. actually... what if i called Loop?

-huh. can't call them here.

-"i just hope that one day you might learn" WAIT THAT'S DIFFERENT- wait nvm i got things mixed up in my head :(

-"in this moment, you were loved"

-"that was a nice rehearsal" OH FUCK.

-i just skipped from loop 37 to 40

-time to kill myself with a banana! oop- *plantain*

-"you broke your head open on a rock" it did not use to describe it like that.

-wait. Sif. if you're annoyed there isn't a more dignified way in the village to loop. just kill yourself. you have a knife. just fucking kill yourself to loop forward.

-...fuck what the hell is this game doing to my thought process

-ok what should i look for in this room...

-"BUT YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO READ IT" in large font... :(

-:( Sif is trying to remember something and it's tied to the stars

-aight new thing to ask the king time to get myself killed via tear yippee

-seems like the King wants Siffrin to remember their home... "something we've all forgotten" this is definitely about the disappearing island and the colors

-i need to go to the library and find the books on it.

-hey isn't Rock also called Protection Craft? kinda interesting that the King has it

-damn i died to the King because of timing bullshit ToT

-"one more time."

-huh... it evades active remembrance

-it had a belief centered on the Universe...

-need to figure out why the King is obsessed with Vaugarde

-freezing something perfect in time... do i need to find one of those Time Craft books again?

-gonna loop forward to the King

-"even the King feels easy to fight, now"

"i still can't say it" the name of their home. he wants to be able to say the name of his and Siffrin's home. ouagh this game is going to leave me emotionally devastated ToT

-fuck i missed the option to ask Odile if she was going to continue her fake research on a loop where i didn't spend time with her

-"can we group hug after i talk to the Head Housemaiden?" oh?

-DAMMIT ODILE INTERRUPTED ISA THIS TIME

-time to talk to her. again. again and again and again and again

-"you can start breaking down now" lol

-"the curtain falls" DAMN

-"HERE AGAIN?" woah Loop why so aggressive?

-"i'm too lazy to open up new dialogue choices" lol

-hm... show Loop the souvenirs...

-wait huh. in another loop this lady in Dormont said she has no siblings but now she has a sister. odd...

-:O THE LONG THINGY-THING

-huh. Loop reacted kinda weirdly to the kid's doodle

-hey what if i gave Isa the flower at the end?

-FUCK I FORGOT THE FUCKING ROCK I GOT TOO COMFY. this is embarrassing

-hey hold up the theme that plays when everybody's discussing the country in the library is the same song that plays when Loop is recapping things

-hold up. the King was in Corbeaux. Corbeaux is where the House doing the color research is.

-took the photo. PERFECTLY FROZEN IN TIME

-oh fuck

-calling Loop

-hm. the star-shaped gate that's locked. is the passcode the name of Siffrin and the King's home?

-we're gonna use a bomb i guess

-i asked the King where he's from and uh... now a slowed-down version of the song is playing...

-what the fuck

-Sif and the King are going to die, aren't they?

-"BUT IT'S ALL GONE!"

-i'm going to loop forward and try to talk to the King. again.

-*sighs* the peel is so dorky

-FUCK I FORGOT TO EQUIP THE MEMORY OF KNIFEKEY

-wait. asking him nicely. FUCKING WORKED???

-"The Universe leads... we can only follow"

-FUCK. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. GO FUCK YOURSELF.

-so the King knows about the loops, even though he can't remember them.

-"Wish Craft" :0

-WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO.

-BONNIE NO

-NO NO NO NO UNHAND THEM

-BONNIE NO BONBON NO

-okay. i looped back. Bonnie is okay again. i just need to kill the King.

-hold the fuck up. it says i'm in Act 4. bad things mark the end of acts. Act 1 ended with me getting in the loops. Act 2 ended with killing the King failing. Act 3 ended with...?

-please don't let Bonnie be dead somehow

-THEY'RE OKAY THEY'RE OKAY

-...the little moments of time rewinding seem to correlate with Sif wishing to go back

-:O I CAN READ THE BOOKS NOW

-THE GATE. OH FUCK YEAH

-fucking hell when did i get (Just attack) because DAMN. Sif is so fucking done with everything.

-WISH CRAFT

-i just fumkign one-shot the Nostalgie on floor 1. "just attack" indeed

-"you need a break" :(

-Sif is like constantly teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown

-let's see how well they do against a boss

-DAMN

-ok so what the fuck was Euphrasie doing before shit hit the fan? and why does she blame herself for Siffrin's situation?

-i just realized something funny. if Vaugarde is fantasy France. and Siffrin and the King are from an island north of Vaugarde. DOES THAT MAKE SIFFRIN FANTASY BRITI- *gets shot*

-gate time.

-what was the question? what was the answer?

-"couldn't i just create another me? someone who'd understand?" ok so somebody's a clone got it.

-Loop? i should talk to Loop

-ok i guess i'll have to be like "hey Loop are you a clone?" in person (plot twist Sif's a clone :P)

-"i saw a weird shade" WAIT HOLD UP YEAH THAT'S SUS THAT SIFFRIN FUCKING SAW RED. OK THAT WAS DIAGETIC. FIRST COLOR IN THE WHOLE GAME.

-gonna kill the King again, talk to Loop, then loop again forward to Floor 2 to read the color theory book

-WAIT SIFFRIN HASN'T CRIED ONCE THIS WHOLE GAME BITCH REPRESSION IS NOT HEALTHY!

-"especially if she knows" Sif. did you forget Odile's name. OH FUCK

-"HOW BLINDINGLY WONDERFUL, FOR A ROLL OF TOILET PAPER TO BE THE ONLY HOPE YOU HAVE LEFT RIGHT NOW!" this would be so funny if not for the context

-"you wish for eternity" WAIT HOLD UP

-SIFFRIN IS USING WISH CRAFT. AND WHEN THEY PRAY TO THE CHANGE GOD STATUES THEY SEND THEIR WISHES. ARE THE BUFFS AND THE KEYKNIFE THE RESULT OF WISH CRAFT?

-hey Siffrin uses a more shy and sad portrait for the 'thank you' afterwards now :(

-FUCK I FORGOT TO SHARPEN THE KNIFE

-y'know what it's fine i have the bomb

-hey Sif i think what happened last time might've uh. traumatized you? ;-;

-welp. i used the bomb. it was anticlimactic.

-"i wonder how this country looks from the outside" *proceeds to imply that the time loop only affects Vaugarde* hold the fucking phone

-ok tho srsly Siffrin is in what looks like *extreme* duress

-oh damn Sif has different portraits for the 'you should disappear' bit. less smug and determined, more... *haunted*

-dang, can't give Isa the flower at the end

-*sigh* gonna talk to her again

-"the actor has become the director"

-there's a lot more theatre comparisons than there used to :(

-woah Siffrin you are weirdly enthusiastic to see Loop

-time to loop forward to read the books woooo

-Sif i am very concerned about this dialogue portrait. your enthusiasm is *desperate*

-hey something funny: people wish on stars

-this game has a LOT of motifs i love: wishes, stars, time, memories, etc.

-hm... what is Siffrin's 'ritual' when doing the wish-y thing?

-:0 a wish is trapping Siffrin?

-what if they're actually being trapped by their own desires or smth? like some sort of- WAIT. WHAT IF LOOP IS TRAPPING THEM SOMEHOW???

-i am in conspiracy mode i think

-moving forward to get to the library

-Siffrin is now level 85...

-maybe a wish is how the island disappeared?

-FAVOR TREE IS WISH CRAFT WOOOOOOOO

-i think the way Sif wished was from something they learned as a kid

-3, 6, 7, 13, all are numbers with significance

-HEY LOOP LOOK WHAT I LEARNED

-welp time to die ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-ok what is in that one house in the main part of Dormont

-hm. Euphrasie was apparently asking everybody what they wished for. she probably realized something tied to Wish Craft was wrong...

-maybe the list in Euphrasie's office cataloguing the names was categorizing based on wishes?

-looping forward

-"you're a living comedy sketch"

-my guess is that the wishing to save Vaugarde enabled Siffrin to loop so they could defeat the King, but something went horribly wrong, thus causing the loops to keep going

-ugh i need to talk in person. tear time!

-a sped-up version of the happy song after you beat the King is playing and Siffrin has the desperate enthusiasm portrait...

-Siffrin, you already tried saving Vaugarde.

-"maybe you don't loop because you die... but because you feel like there would be no reason to go on, maybe?" makes sense to me. Siffrin doesn't have anything to look forward to after defeating the King.

-"something that, to you, feels on the same level of hopelessness as death? on the same level as the world ending?" me when the time loop wants me to get therapy:

-hey Sif you just looped. right in front of Loop.

-looping forward to the King.

-Odile's realizing she's missing something. too bad she'll forget it. maybe i should try making the others really suspicious of me on a future loop

-"please don't interrupt" :(

-this game has me constantly on some variety of edge and i love it

-maybe this time Isa will get to confess?

-the static is starting and i haven't even talked to Euphrasie

-damn i did a minor loop back :(

-talking to her won't work. it can't work.

-STOP SAYING THE SAME DAMN THING STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT

-I WAS RIGHT AS TO HOW EXACTLY SIF GOT STUCK

-the wish is broken. MAYBE IF I DO SOMETHING ELSE MAYBE IF HE'S DEFEATED SOME OTHER WAY PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

-OH FUCK. so Sif's current theory is that somehow he has to deal the final blow

-"You just need to defeat the King on your own" BUT YOU NEED THE OTHERS TO DEFEAT HIM?

-also damn the way Siffrin's thoughts spiral into a mess is a mood.

-i am now in Act 5.

-:( the Dormont music is slow now

-Sif's portrait in the menus has changed again, there is nothing in the body text of his profile, and their title is now "The Lost One" :(

-wait. the Change God statue is glitchy now and i can't get buffs there anymore

-Sif is like perpetually pissed off

-aaaand now Mira's upset

-Sif is going to fuck things up with the others as well, won't they?

-i think Odile's gonna figure out that Sif is in a time loop

-i feel like i'm in a horror game right now. well. i've felt like that for a while. but i am fucking terrified of Siffrin right now. Siffrin you need help please they only want to help you you can't bottle up everything or it only ends up worse

-the battle theme is slowed...

-sometime i should write a crossover fanfic where Rose Lalonde picks apart Siffrin, i think it would go very interestingly

-unrelated but i just realized Isa has a hair banana hehehe... i need to cling to levity while in this hell

-uh. dude. why is your dialogue looping

-SIFFRIN! I. I KNOW YOU'RE STRUGGLING BUT ALL THEY WANT TO DO IS HELP YOU AND YOU KEEP HURTING THEM PLEASE THEY ONLY WANT TO HELP YOU I KNOW VULNERABILITY IS HARD BUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE THEY'VE BEEN *TRYING* AND THEY'VE BEEN NOTHING BUT KINDA TO YOU AND IT HURTS TO SEE THIS SIFFRIN BECAUSE YOU KEEP GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AND IT'S TERRIFYING!

-fuck man this game is getting me to care so much about this guy. Mental Illness Simulator 2023

-the irony of Sif calling Isa a coward who projects confidence but not backing it up... Siffrin is projecting.

-and yet despite all that... Isa still ended the conversation rather kindly ToT

-Loop seems really unsure and yeah. past me would not believe this but i am siding with the starheaded bitch.

-...Loop fucking LIED

-Sif is going alone

-oh dear the music

-most of the memories are gone. and the skills...

-level 99

-wait the room layout is fucked

-a Sif ghost but with a black hat instead

-"you're hungry" :(

-so. i think Sif just hallucinated his party members.

-"your stomach hurts. you feel cold." :(

-the world is glitching and breaking haha and i am scared i'm scared i'm scared Siffrin *please*

-how is the photo event occurring if i'm on my own?

-*oh no*

-ok brb i need to take a break

-ok back from my break and refreshed! now i can go back to Siffrin's Descent Into Hell

-entered Mira's room. her hallucination did the "head is covered in darkness creepily" thing...

-Odile...

-i'm in the Keyknife room except now the background is the post-King fight background...

-the feeling of the grim march towards a specific goal reminds me of the Undertale genocide route haha...ha...ha... ...

-stomachache, headache, and the smell of sugar...

-no more running, only a slow, slow, walk to the end

-"you've trapped this country in time even more surely than i have" oh fuck

-not often that a game makes me terrified enough for me to feel my heartbeat...

-red.

-his sprite is on the game over?

-where the FUCK am i?

-spooky shadow Siffrin

-OOO DO I GET TO FIGHT A MANIFESTATION OF SIFFRIN'S MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES?

-hm what does mal du pays mean- oh :( it translated to homesickness :(

-you can't fight your own shadow

-"it's not like you haven't let me die before, right?" *OH FUCK*

-you broke your promise didn't you?

-red

-dude i think the depression is collecting its due. loops and loops of bottling your shit up has been unhealthy and now you are paying for it :(

-"if something has been forgotten by everyone, has that thing ever existed?" FUCK

-red

-more red

-BRIGHT RED

-if i had a nickel for every rpg i liked where a monochrome manifestation of the main character's mental illness taunted him in a scripted fight, i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. bonus: the dialogue box calls Mal du Pays 'something'! oh and both games open with a content warning i guess

y'know maybe the fact i found out about this game from a blogger that i followed for Omori stuff should've been some sort of indicator.

-"the sadness within you is right" FUCK

-OH GOOD SIF DIDN'T DIE THE FAMILY CAME TvT

-"a weird shiny person helped us!" LOOP :D

-AND THE MUSIC IS UPBEAT OH THIS FEELS SO GOOD TvT

-IT HAS THE TITLE SCREEN MOTIF TOO

-i'l have to look up the song later and compare to other themes but i think it might be a medley/remix? i've definitely identified the post-King fight theme and the title theme, probably more i can't clearly identify

-everybody's battle portraits are so bright and happy

-"i still cannot remember its name" :(

-damn. he froze. womp womp

-ok but what about Loop? what's going on with them?

-glitchy background...

-i'm on Act 5. aren't there like 6 acts? idk maybe this can end and Sif can move forward. then again... the last few times. that did not work out.

-haha Sif pls don't die on us rlly tho pls don't

-so slow...

-RED...

-Mal du Pays is following us

-FUCK

-*exhales* ok the darkness is gone

-is it weird that i kinda like this moment more than the moments of closeness with the others in Act 3? maybe cuz it feels more real, somehow... or because for once, Siffrin is the one being vulnerable...

-i think the problem was sticking to the script and treating the others like actors or well... NPCs

-FUCK FUCK FUCK NO NO NO DON'T YOU DARE GO INTO GLITCHY MODE.

-FUCK

-now that they're here they know something is wrong.

-please game please grant Siffrin one small mercy and let the others loop back with him this time

-RED

-uhhhhhhhh

-Sif did you just become your weird sadness self

-woah this is a beautiful scene

-WOAH. now THIS is a battle! and it is *beautiful*. the red and the stars...

-oh fuck. my options are hurt them or self-harm.

-wait are they HEALING ME? :(

-the battle menu simply refers to Siffrin as 'user'

-JGJRJENNDNRJE LMAO ODILE JUST PULLED A CLASSIC MOM MOVE LIKE "don't you dare storm up to your room earlier in time, young man!"

-forced group therapy

-oh, Siffrin's portrait

-i HATE that my options are hurt my friends or hurt myself. and i refuse to let Siffrin hurt their friends. it's... heartbreaking...

-chat i don't think the wish the player chooses was Siffrin's *actual* wish

-:0 hatless Siffrin

-AWWWW THEY'RE HUGGING

-aw... smiling Sif... hugging Bonnie :]

-:0 EVERYBODY IS SO HAPPY IN THE MENU!

-"It's you!!!!" also hey Sif's title is "The Traveler" again!

-"you will stay together for a little while longer" :]

-i love how the lack of hat makes the fact that Siffrin is really short apparent lol

-these new conversations are precious :]

-Odile thinks the fact that Sif loved everybody so much they got himself stuck in a time loop to be cute XD

-NO WAY. IS THIS FINALLY HAPPENING. IS HE FINALLY GONNA SAY IT?

-HELL FUCKING YES!!!!!!!!

-ok i just talked to all the housemaidens and Dormont residents. time to talk to Loop

-...

-maybe Loop was just. a manifestation of the wish...

-:0 THE SILVER COIN? ARE WE GONNA FINSLLY USE THE SILVER COIN?

-TvT

-I BEAT THE GAME :D

-:o Siffrin is no longer on the title screen

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 16

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 23 minutes

San brushed his hands together, trying to get himself ready as he walked a bit faster when the Maps app warned him that he was closer to his destination through his earphones. Superstar by Jamelia blasted his ears as he slowly pictured Y/n in his head. He listened casually to that song on the radio the other day and he couldn't help but think of her, because the lyrics just fitted her so well. She attracted everyone in a room so effortlessly, it was almost as if she was born with it.

The music seemed to fade-out slowly as he found that route familiar for some reason.

He recognized that old banner of one of the restaurants in the area, that he used to go to whenever he met up with his father close to his workplace. It only took him a few more steps to know why he thought he knew that street so well. Classic Cruise headquarters were at the other side of the street, with that wide three floor building taking most of the space in that block. He knew that restaurant because he usually went there when his father had to double his shift for some reason.

He could only hope Y/n wasn't working there, but the location she sent him marked exactly that place as he took his phone out of the belly pocket in his black sweater.

His steps turned slower as he tried to think of how his life turned a whole different turn after his father was dumped from that company, with no other explanation other than production requiring less people to work on certain projects. That company still stayed the same, while the rest of the people that were kicked out had to completely change their way of living, only because the man in power didn't know how to handle his own business properly. And relating it to one of the things that Y/n mentioned, that man didn't change a single bit.

He was about to turn on his tracks, and change his destination again, but he thought about her. Y/n was completely different from that. Of course she came from a rich family, of course she had enough money to cut up her salary to save someone else's position, but how many people in that same situation would've done the same?

He was there for her, he wanted to see her. She was a mere agent when all that blew out, and she had no fault in the way her father managed his business. She was better than all that, and she had proved it time and time again since they talked for the first time.

As he stepped inside the big building, he met up with a tall man with a nice haircut and a trimmed beard waiting behind the counter, looking up to him over his glasses.

—Hey, I'm here to meet Y/n —he nervously informed.

—Miss Y/s, you mean?

He held back that inner huff when the man felt like correcting him. He understood him, so what was exactly the point of calling her by her username?

—Yeah, miss Y/s —San confirmed.

—May I know who's looking for her?

—Choi San —he slowly introduced himself.

—Hold on a second.

The man left him waiting, with both of his hands hanging nervously over the edge of the white counter, while the suited receptionist grabbed the phone to confirm whether she was waiting for a visit or not.

—Her secretary said there's no one under the name of Choi San on her schedule. Would you like to arrange a meeting for tomorrow, instead?

—No, look...

While raising up his finger, the man interrupted him again, paying attention to the person he was talking to on the phone rather than what he had to say.

—Yes, miss Y/s. I'll give him a badge right now —his tone completely changed as he realized Y/n was the one speaking to him at that moment.

A few minutes went by while the receptionist tried to get the badge machine to start working, until the clacking sound of heels interrupted the silent noise of the machine. He looked up curiously, finding Y/n dressed in a black tight knitted dress. Her presence instantly made the receptionist turn to her and stand straight.

She genuinely didn't care about John not letting San walk through easily, because that was exactly the point of his job. He made the first filter that assured the security of the company and those inside. That was why she didn't think of saying anything to him when she saw San at the other side of the counter.

—You should've told me you were here —she said—. Did you make the badge already? —Y/n turned to John, who shook his head.

—The machine was getting started.

—Jennifer prepared a permanent badge half an hour ago, so it should be fine —she told him—. I think Charlotte saved it somewhere with a note with my name.

—Oh, yeah. Here it is.

His colleague had saved it under the computer monitor, without telling him what it was actually about. He handed it over to San, who hung it around his neck as he started walking towards Y/n.

—Also, a new task: any bucket coming for me, feel free to send them all back. Inform Charlotte as well about it. Let's see if that person takes the hint.

After talking, she turned again to San, moving her head to encourage him to walk with her towards the stairs.

—Do you have a secret fan? —he asked first.

—More like a secret creep —she sighed—. I don't know who it is, but I have enough with worrying about everything going on in my life and the company to worry about a clown trying to tease me.

—To tease you? —San asked, confused.

—If that person was dangerous, they'd have tried something else than sending flowers with weird notes —she tried to play it cool—. If those flowers don't ever get to me, they'll end up giving up. By the way —she stopped before reaching the last step—, were you busy when I texted you?

Other than lamenting his clumsy mouth, there was nothing more interesting going on with him that morning.

—No, no.

—You didn't go to class today? —her eyebrow raised.

Through all those late night conversations they had since they met, Y/n was sure he didn't mention a single time missing a class.

—Huh? —his eyes moved from the metallic railing to his shoes, going back to her— Well...

—Was it because of yesterday? —Y/n asked again.

Was he so easy to read? She only had to dedicate one look at him to be able to tell what was wrong with him?

—I shouldn't have asked you to go for that drink —the click of her tongue interrupted his thoughts—. I didn't remember you had to be in class today.

At least that's better than having her knowing he spent the whole morning in bed, whining because of the big idiot he was.

San was confused at how she acted like that kiss never happened. She was so chill and calm, talking to him like she hadn't left his text unanswered for a whole morning, until she felt forced to speak to him; it was almost as if she was confirming what he suspected. While Y/n was doing her best at keeping her doubts and thoughts to herself. Whether she wanted to discuss it or not, she wasn't going to be the one forcing a justification out of him. She was convinced dealing with all of it was already hard enough for him to be making it even more difficult.

—Let's go to my office.

The second they both entered the common area, most of the eyes instantly turned to them. It was like they had a big spotlight pointing at them, with a neon light announcing they'd be walking through the hallways towards the office she worked in.

From behind, and fighting his inner need to look at the way her hips swayed with grace, he managed to notice how her head was raised up, letting her neck adopt the perfect straight posture. And suddenly she felt so distant and intimidating, that he even wondered if it was right to follow her up -despite her inviting him inside.

In the middle of his own anxiety levels increasing, and the fog of judgment from those around him clouded his mind, San tried to focus on what it first pushed him to text Y/n and meet up with her.

He needed to let go of all those thoughts, he wanted Y/n to know that what he said wasn't exactly what he meant. And, for that, he tried to remember Wooyoung's advice earlier that morning.

—Okay, you don't want to talk about it, but I will —the door closing behind them seemed to hit a button, having him put an end to the silence as he tried to get an explanation out of her—. I know the kiss was awful. I bet you're trying to erase it from your memory, and I can't blame you.

Y/n was surprised by how sudden he sounded out of nowhere, focused on his discourse to the point of completely forgetting about his shy aura that usually kept him from discussing things like that.

—When I said I was sorry for kissing you, I meant that I was sorry for putting you through such an uncomfortable situation for a kiss that wasn't worth it. I didn't mean that I didn't like kissing you, because I did like kissing you. It was my first kiss, and possibly the best kiss I'll ever have. But I know it wasn't your first kiss, and possibly you've had way better kisses...

Y/n pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her smile as she listened to his rant, where he barely paused to breathe. She was worried he'd act like it never happened if she didn't mention it, only for San to blow it all out while deeply looking into her eyes.

The lack of air in his lungs started to show off on the marked veins of his neck, and the way his words sounded drowned and forced as his speech went on. She could only think of one way to keep him from passing out at any moment. Holding his cheeks, she took one step towards him and linked their lips together on a soft peck that kept all the remaining words stuck in his throat.

His eyes instantly closed at the gentle touch of her lips on his, letting himself go by how intimidating and warm it felt. He moved his lips first, sucking on her lower lip to deepen the kiss. Although his muscles didn't take long to tense, making his body stiff again, when he was drowned back to the reality that that wasn't the best place to do things like those.

She looked up at him confused as San moved back, breaking the kiss.

—What...?

As she looked down to one of his hands, she noticed his index finger pointing behind her to the people that were pretending to be back to work as soon as she moved to look over her shoulder.

Those damned glass walls.

When she looked back at San, she could notice a soft blush forming on the upper part of his cheeks.

—Why so red? —she giggled.

—I'm not —he shyly smiled, looking down as he touched his face to feel the warmer spots against the reverse of his digits.

—So you were actually worried about me not liking the kiss?

As she walked past him, she could feel his senses completely neutralized by the sweet scent that radiated from her. Her eyes were comprehensive as he followed her gaze, but her pose was so tempting while supporting the weight of her body on the edge of her desk.

—Yeah.

—Why?

—Why? —he frowned at her question, trying to think of an answer.

—Just be honest. I want to know why you thought like that —she shrugged.

—I was nervous, I let myself go with the impulse although I wasn't ready for it. I mean —he closed his eyes momentarily to settle his thoughts—, I was ready, but I wasn't ready to be at your level.

—My level? —she scoffed.

—You kiss so well, and I just... I just looked like a fish flopping around.

—San, it was your first kiss, what did you think I expected? —although she tried to hold back those giggles, all efforts were in vain— We aren't born and know how to do those things. It's something that needs practice. Like the way you express yourself through texts —she joked—. I thought all morning that you regretted it.

—No. Of course not. I just thought you were disappointed last night.

—Oh, you should also improve those body language readings as well —she mumbled, grimacing at his words—. Wait, is it because I kissed you on the cheek instead of the lips when I dropped you off?

And San finally saw some sense in the way he overreacted. Of course it was that. The first thought that crossed his mind as soon as he laid on the bed was that, if she had liked the kiss, she'd have kissed him back in the car, instead of going for his cheek.

—San —she whined, face palming her forehead—. Okay. Let's be direct with each other from now on, and I'll start by making it clear for you: I liked it, a lot. Because it was you. No disappointments, no regrets. I just kissed you on the cheek because it felt less invasive. I know you're shy, and I thought that maybe a goodbye kiss on the lips would've made you uncomfortable.

If she was already his ideal woman through texts, meeting her in real life made him believe he had won the lottery. She respected his space and rhythm, and she tried to adapt to his pace. She was clear and comprehensive with him, and it actually made him wonder how many others would be so lucky to meet someone like that.

—Is that so? —his lips puckered while the corners lifted slightly.

Y/n scoffed again, shaking her head in disbelief at how easily it was for Sun to get flustered at the same time his cheeks lighted up again.

—Quit that smile —she pointed at him—. Look at how fast we would've solved things out if you just had called me last night with this.

San nodded, but he still smiled through his efforts to keep a straight face.

—Was this why you wanted to meet up?

—Yeah. Also —he scratched his nape—, one of my friends' girlfriends is planning a trip to Cape Cod this weekend, and they wanted you to join. I know we said we wouldn't do it again —he tried to be careful with his words—, but Meghan, she's Yeosang's girlfriend by the way —he added, as if that extra information was needed—, thought it'd be a good idea to have you there, too.

—Yeah, about that... —Y/n started— I need a favor from you.

—Hmm?

—We're planning an event, and I kinda said you'd come with me —she shrugged as she innocently smiled.

—An event?

—I'm sorry, I just got carried on by the asshole of Tim, and said you'd attend with me. It's okay, you don't have to do that. I know last time was too much.

—No, I can do that —he nodded—. I can do that if you want me to be there.

—Are you sure?

Last time it was more lighthearted than what those events tended to be, and she knew the pressure that San already was on during that barbeque.

—I'll just prepare better for my role as an engineer in Vancouver. There will be no flaws this time —he chuckled—. Would you... I mean, just if you want... Do you want us to have dinner together?

Y/n then realized the time it was. It was still early to have dinner, but she didn't want him to go so early. He came all the way from his house to her office just because she told him to meet up.

—Can you hang on for thirty minutes? I need to finish up some documents.

When she first told him to meet up, her schedule was completely clear. But suddenly her email was flooded with requests of reports that needed to be handed before she left.

—Yeah, sure —he nodded, walking around nervously.

As she tapped on her computer, her eyes went up to him, smiling while he wandered around the room with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. It was impressive how any style suited him, to the point of having her gushing over him. Until his clumsiness kicked in. His face grimaced, momentarily scared, when he almost dropped something from the shelf that was over the couch, making her silently laugh as she focused back on the screen.

San's eyes uncontrollably fell on her every few seconds, moving away quickly before she could notice it, but enough to appreciate how delicate her features seemed whenever she was concentrating on something.

They were playing tag with one another, until their eyes coincidentally moved to each other at the same time, ending with both of them moving their gazes away while smiling.

Two knocks on her door broke all that silly game, having her aiming her eyes at her father stepping inside her office.

—Am I bothering you?

—Hmm no —she shook her head.

—I'll be leaving earlier today, so just send those reports to the head of administration, and put me on cc —he explained—. Your mother prepared me roasted ribs.

And right when he was about to start salivating, he found San looking curiously at them after looking around his daughter's office.

—Oh, San. I didn't know you were here.

Harry walked over to him to greet him, but somehow it felt different to the other two times. Anxiety and nervousness were replaced by some type of distrust and discomfort that Y/n couldn't ignore. It was different from the other times, where he was visibly nervous by the situation itself. Now it clearly seemed like his discomfort was due to her father.

—Do you want to come over for dinner?

—Actually —Y/n interrupted, before San felt forced to reject the offer—, we already had plans.

—Okay, then —he greeted, heading to the door—. Have fun —he winked at his daughter one last time before stepping out of the office.

Y/n saw San sitting again on the couch, slowly going back to his calm and relaxed persona whenever he was around her. Although she wasn't going to ask him about it right in that moment, it was something to leave it better when they were in a more intimate space.

***

He took the bag with food from her hand so she'd be able to reach for her keys, earning a sweet smile from her before she started walking to her door again. He waited for her to step inside first, despite knowing the way inside her house after being there before.

—Do you mind if I get changed? —she turned to him, getting San to slowly shake his head— You can sit wherever you want: the dinner table, the couch... up to you.

And just like she told him, he did. San looked around first, trying to choose the right place, and ended up walking towards the coffee table in front of her long couch. Not shortly after she was back with him, wearing a pair of baggy pants and an oversized t-shirt, whose edge danced on her lap when she happily trotted to where he was.

—Are you hungry? —he chuckled.

—Very —she sat next to him—. I ate earlier today because I had a meeting at my usual lunch time. I could've gone later, but it sits wrong with my body whenever I do. It's weird.

—I've only had a plate of pasta before going to the gym —he commented, taking the food out of the bags.

—Oh, so you went to the gym —she asked, picking one of her french fries—. Did you do it on purpose before coming to see me?

San instantly had that nervous expression again, moving his lips to speak, but without a single word coming out of them.

—What did you do? —Y/n asked, smiling maliciously while ignoring her own teasing.

—It was back and arms day.

—I can't believe you don't get hit on there —Y/n mentioned, biting on her burger.

—I do —he nodded—. I mean, it's not something that happens every day, but it's happened. Let's just say you need a Doctorate in patience with me —he mumbled, unwrapping his burger.

—What are you talking about? It's not that bad —she assured him—. With a Bachelor's degree it's alright —Y/n stopped to change the tone again—. I don't think it's that bad.

—Because you're different —San reached for a napkin when he spotted the bit of mayonnaise in the corner of her lips—. You'd see the weirdest thing, and you'd still find its positive side.

While he was right, he was missing something important, and it was how powerful his aura was despite him not being aware of it. And it was there again, as he leaned over her a bit to clean off her mouth while looking directly at it, her whole body froze for him, and he still believed he didn't have that power.

—Maybe the one who doesn't have good eyesight it's you —he replied back —. I only pay attention to things that are worth it. So if that weird thing got my attention at first, it's good enough already. If I think it's cute, then it's over the top. So do with that information what you want —as she was to look out for ketchup, her tongue clicked when she didn't find any—. They didn't add ketchup.

—Do you have?

—Yeah, in the fridge.

She remembered it's one of the few things she had there specifically because of that.

Y/n was going to stop him, but San was already midway when she realized. She paid for the food, and made extra effort to make him feel comfortable. The least he could do was try hard to make her feel better.

As he opened the fridge, he first looked for the sauce, but his eyes got stuck in the small boxes he only managed to see from afar. It looked like some type of medication, although he couldn't really tell what it was by its name alone. He went back to her quickly though, trying to remember the name as he grabbed the bottle, with the thought of searching it up later.

—Thank you —she smiled widely at him—. I was thinking... Earlier this afternoon, you looked so serious when seeing my dad, did something happen?

Of course he was so obvious that Y/n could tell. He completely forgot she was an ace while reading people's body language.

—I was just nervous.

—Still?

—Because of a man that could end me with a snap of a finger? Yes —he lied.

—And you think I'd allow him to do that to you? —she challenged him, taking one french fry with ketchup on its tip to her lips.

—Are you my guardian? —he laughed.

—Of course I am! You look tough and big, and you're way taller, but I'll protect you.

Being around Y/n was always a good experience for San. Although he didn't know her for long, she always managed to make him feel in a safe place, like he was with anyone else from his group of friends.

It could be that they didn't have a lot of things in common, but they always managed to build a long conversation around those topics. And, even if it wasn't about one of their mutual interests, they both made it seem like it was. It was all so fluid and easy, that both of them felt like they were back to when they started speaking through long phone calls. It was all that again, but better because he was able to see the way her eyes lit up and she was able to appreciate the way his dimples deepened as his smile got wider.

—And I remember my dad told me to just stop taking taekwondo lessons. He was the one who encouraged me to go, until I broke someone's nose.

—I bet that little shit deserved it —she shook her head.

—A little bit, yeah.

Y/n found him attractive already, but nothing beated the way he looked when he was just being himself, completely relaxed and talkative. Not only because he radiated confidence like that, but it was also precious for her. He wasn't the type to be open like that with a lot of people, but he was like that with her. And it made her think how all that patience was completely worth it if she was going to see him like that.

—What? —he smiled shyly, noticing the way her eyes scanned all over his face.

—We said we would be honest and direct with each other, right?

San nodded, unsure of where that comment was coming from.

—I really want to kiss you right now —she admitted.

—I want to be really honest, too. I'm dying to kiss you, too.

Her fingers caressing the pecks on his neck, combined with that happy smile, made some part of his brain tickle, and he was ready to deal with that sensation increasing its feeling.

Her lips felt so addictive the two times she kissed him, but it didn't feel like that night. Something was urging him to hold her closer with his hands on her waist, and never let go until their lips were swollen and they both felt dizzy.

—Just follow me, okay? —she whispered, breaking the kiss just to link their lips together again after he nodded.

She controlled the way he moved by imposing her movements, moving her head to find the right angle, tasting each bit of skin, just getting him used to her. Some of the first times San found himself kissing blindly where he wasn't supposed to, aiming sometimes in the air, until he got used to her slow pace, feeling all of his hairs rising whenever he got a taste of her inner lip.

Y/n broke the kiss again, looking at him under her eyelashes, and noticing how thick and heavy his eyelids seemed as he tried to look at her.

—I'll add a bit of tongue, alright?

San waited for her lips to cover his again, but instead he only felt her slowly rubbing them against his. The tip of her tongue traced the line of his lower lip so gently that he thought his spine would melt at any moment. Instinctively, his lips parted and Y/n took that invitation freely, sliding the tip inside and rubbing it against his. His reaction was hidden behind the need to want more and focus on what she was doing to learn from it, and mirror it.

She took it slow, she was patient, Y/n just wanted him to feel comfortable before going on. She always waited for him to move, and imitate what she did, before she continued.

Their lips popped loudly when they broke apart for the first time, and that sound alone started waking up something in him. Blinded by her, he moved forward, feeling a perfectly marked pain in his frontal teeth as he moved way too fast, ending up hitting against hers.

—Oh my god, I'm sorry —he mumbled, seeing her forcibly moving back due to pain.

—It's okay —her hand covered his wrist, trying to help him take it easy—. Let's go for it again.

He did exactly what Y/n did, he imitated everything he felt, playing with his fingers on the fold on the side of her t-shirt. Her hand, still on his wrist, tried to appease him, while the hand on his neck moved up to his cheek to rub her thumb on his skin.

The kiss was still sloppy, despite being slow, but damn wasn't it making her go crazy every time his tongue rubbed on hers. She wasn't able to control her gasps, just like he gave up a few times by airing out some of his groans whenever her fingers digged on his scalp.

She wanted to kiss him until he got it perfect, and she genuinely didn't mind if they spent hours like that. But he stopped before she could even think of making it real, covering every corner of her mouth with small kisses before he looked at her.

Both of their lips were shiny, coated with each other's saliva, and parted as they tried to recover some of the air that left their lungs.

—Did I pass the test?

—Hmm, I won't mind giving you some extra classes —she joked, licking her lips.

—We should leave those extra classes for another day though. I think I should get home now.

And he was afraid that, if he kept falling into Y/n's trap, he'd fall into something that it'd be difficult for him to escape. And he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with the consequences of those kisses.

—Is everything okay?

—Yeah, just that... You kiss so well, and you're so tempting, that I doubt I'll be able to control my body if we keep on like this. And I don't mean it in the wrong way —he quickly corrected himself—. I'm not going to force you into anything, that's exactly why I'm leaving. Not —he sighed— not because of that.

Y/n snorted as she saw him struggling with his words, trying to explain to her what was going on, but being careful with his words so as not to hurt her.

—Are you laughing? —he tilted his head.

—No —she tried to lie—, just a bit. But not of you, I promise.

—I'm just trying to say that I was getting hard, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable.

—I guessed so —she nodded.

He was just looking at her surprised by the way those words just came out of his mouth.

The fact that he was so honest and straight to the point, with no fake excuses, made her laugh. But it was most definitely excitement over seeing him more comfortable around her than the words themselves. She probably would've just shrugged it off at a man being decent towards her -which wasn't exactly the case in her dating life, but with San she appreciated it a bit more because she knew where she was coming from.

Holding his cheeks, she planted a peck on his lips so he'd just stop overthinking and ranting until running out of air.

It was alright. Those things happened.

—I'll take the keys —she let him know.

—You always drive me home, I'll get there by myself —he assured her.

—You sure?

—Hmm —he nodded—. I'll send you a text when I get home.

It was like an impulse, something that got from his inner self and he wasn't able to control. He didn't kiss her lips or her cheek, his lips fell on her forehead. And Y/n was sure that certainly felt way more intimate and close than any other make out session. Such a small gesture had her cheeks burning up, and her smile drawing across her face.

And that smile was something he kept thinking of after he arrived home, that smile was the only thing in his head as he got changed and laid in his bed. And it only felt right that Y/n was the one taking control of each one of his thoughts after that evening, only clouded by one quick thought that made him frown.

Exiting their chat, he opened the navigator, typing each one of the letters that were written in those boxes.

Copaxone: is thought to modify immune processes believed to be responsible for activating MS.. It's not clear how glatiramer acetate (Copaxone or Brabio) works. It seems to kill the immune cells that attack the coating (myelin) around nerves in your brain and spinal cord. You inject it under your skin once a day or, at a higher dose, three times a week.

Y/n was sick?

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 4 - DBDA Week

Day 4 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Reunion

Relationships: Edwin Payne&Charles Rowland&Crystal Palace&Niko Sasaki

Tags: Post-canon, Paranormal Activities

TW: None

--

“Crystal, we have to tell you something,” Charles started one day out of the blue.

He looked giddy, mischievous, the expression you would find on a kid about to confess that they stole one of your freshly-baked biscuits. And while that in itself wouldn’t be such an unexpected image, what made the entire thing almost unreal - assuming a world like ‘real’ could even be applied to a psychic, living with ghosts, solving supernatural crimes - was that behind him, Edwin was wearing a matching grin.

Crystal raised a questioning brow as a form of reply, she had no idea where the conversation could possibly be going.

“Ok, so, you know we are ghosts, right?” Charles rambled.

Luckily, before Crystal could make a sarcastic remark, or curse at him, Edwin had mercy on them both and took the lead of the conversation:

“We have this little tradition. Every Halloween we go to a Haunted House in the countryside, where people pretend to be detectives of the occult, with useless equipment, and we… Well, there’s no other way to say it, we tease them a little.”

“You- what?” Crystal was having trouble reconciling the image she had of the other two with this new information. It probably struck her for the first time since she met them, that they were just two kids, trying their best in this cruel world they had been ripped out from too soon. Her gaze softened. “Why didn’t I know anything about this?”

“It’s your first Halloween with us, isn’t it?” Charles said, sounding a lot more like his usual, confident self.

“We used to have quite the nice reviews on the newspapers,” Edwin continued. “Then, they stopped writing those, but people still visit the house and they have a lot of fun when something actually happens.”

Crystal fished her phone out of her jacket’s pocket and looked at Maps for a while, searching for ‘haunted houses’ until she found it. 

“Is this the place?” She asked, turning the phone to Edwin so he could watch the screen.

“Yes, it is!” He said. Crystal had never seen him this excited before.

“Wow, this has so many reviews, I wonder why I had never heard about it. They love it.”

Charles preened. “Of course they do, we are professionals.”

Taking the phone back to read some more comments, Crystal had to laugh. It was probably the only self-indulgent thing they had allowed themselves all those years. One well-deserved night of fun without witches, or demons, or Death. She just felt a bit sad that she couldn’t join them.

As if reading her mind, Charles said:

“We were thinking that you could dress up as one of those ‘detectives’, so you could come with us, if you’d like?”

–

The outfit the three of them had put together was absolutely ridiculous. Crystal had a big yellow jacket with a stylized ghost on one arm, thermal goggles perched on top of her head, and a backpack with something similar to a vacuum cleaner attached to its side.

“Am I supposed to, like, capture the ghosts?” She said, while looking at herself in the mirror.

Edwin snickered. Full-on snickers. “Of course you know that it would be impossible, right?”

“But they like to think they can. You will blend in perfectly,” Charles finished for him. They were still doing that thing where they looked like they shared two halves of the same brain, but in that moment it was less like the usual dead married couple on acid, and more like two twelve-year-olds trying to pull a prank on their parents.

“Ok, I’m ready then,” Crystal nodded, unable to hide the fond smile in time before they could see it.

Crystal found out there was an actual tour bus taking people to the Haunted House and she managed to secure herself a ticket. It was painted in black and decorated with neon green and splashes of fake blood, and it was filled with similarly dressed people, carrying all sorts of weird equipment on them. Some people had laptops, others had devices that looked like small radios, and others that didn’t look like anything she had seen before.

Absolutely none of them had any drop of actual arcane energy.

When the bus started its way up the hill where the house stood, everyone went silent, anxiety and anticipation both equally filled the air. It required an extreme amount of self-control for Crystal not to burst out laughing, knowing that the very ghosts who supposedly haunted the house were riding on that same bus, elbowing one another and giggling, while making a list of what to do this time to scare-but-not-too-much the visitors.

It was a very run-of-the-mill paranormal experience, when compared to the much weirder and scarier things Crystal had already seen in her life. But Charles and Edwin were right, people absolutely loved it. Everyone took their time to set up their equipment and the ghosts patiently waited before starting to open some windows, slam doors, make pieces of paper fly. Crystal would lie if she didn’t admit that it was fun.

Until a second bus arrived, and time stopped. She couldn’t focus on anything else, other than the buzzing sound in her mind, her gaze fixed intently on the people entering the house. Or, more accurately, on the person.

“Niko,” she breathed out, running towards the white-haired girl like her life depended on it.

“Crystal! You’re really here!” Niko said, with tears forming in her eyes as she returned the hug and squeezed Crystal tight.

A few seconds later, she felt four other arms wrap around the two of them, followed by a lot of loud complaints from the people that came with the second bus that the haunting had stopped too soon and they wanted a refund.

When they separated, all four of them had matching glistening eyes.

“I came back to the mortal plane thanks to my sprites,” Niko explained. “I didn’t know how to find you, but then I remembered Edwin mentioning this Halloween tradition. So I thought it was my best chance. I am really glad you are actually here.”

“And she forced us to wear these ridiculous outfits too, which, for the record, should be a crime,” someone said from behind her.

“You tell them, Litty.” 

Crystal looked closely, and she recognized the faces of the two people, except in her memory they were a lot smaller.

“I don’t know what happened to them,” said Niko with a shrug, ignoring the former-sprites comments.

“We’ll start researching The Case Of The Grown Sprites first thing tomorrow,” interjected Edwin, taking Niko’s hand and motioning for the door. “For now, let’s go home, tell us everything.”

[qianqiancandyjar]

DP_the Secret Saturdays AU headcanons

Ghost Hunter Family Masterpost

Sorry, another abandoned comic. Like last one, I'm gonna squeeze something out of my brain at least.

However, I have no idea what to draw to explain the storyline at this point. So I made this long post of my headcanons about this AU.

I did try making new chapters yet I couldn't make a full one to even satisfy myself so I deleted all the drafts.

The Fentons–>The Saturdays

This au sets in the same world of The Secret Saturdays. The Fentons are part of the Secret Scientists, too, and good friends with the Saturdays. But they interact with each other only when they're not busy with their own mission.

Jack Fenton is in charge of all the inventions and equipments of the family, while Maddie is more focused on analyzing everything about ghosts.

Jack and Maddie are less obsessed with their works and focus more on the kids than in the canon. Especially Maddie, who educated Danny to use his power properly. Actually, she stressed the importance of human strength. That leads to Danny's less skilled in ghost powers. Is it a bad thing or good thing?

Danny is the reincarnation of the Ghost King, just like Zak and Kur. But he only possessed the crown part at the beginning. The ring part belongs to Vlad.

About Danny's commanding power: When he uses a specific voice to speak, the words can influence ghosts' mind and make them unintentionally obey. Of course such strong power won't come without a price. Every time he uses this ability, his throat will be severely damaged. The degree depends on how powerful the command is. (Resemblance? Jujutsu Kaisen, ahem)

Jazz is the reincarnation of the King Guardian, mirroring Fisk. She's a shapeshifter, and good at being a spy with her study on psychology. Her ghost abilities aren't as powerful as Danny's, but she thinks them enough to protect her younger brother.

Vlad Masters–>Argost

Before his departing, Vlad was a friend of Fentons. He's more professional on ghost language and culture than the Fentons, so he didn't tell them all what he had read on the asteroid, and then he left with all the secrets.

He knows he need to gather all the relics to fully awake the true power of the Ghost King. He's kinda pissed he only got the ring part. The main part is the crown, so Vlad doesn't have the power of commanding ghosts. Though, he'll try get the ghost army he wants some other way. And maybe one day, the crown will be his, too.

Vlad writes novels as a hobby, and his works happen to be Danny/Jazz's favorite, whoops. (They didn't know the author was Vlad. He uses pen-name)

Backgrounds:

The Ghost King was murdered by a human hero (Perhaps the ancestor of the Fentons) with a weapon made of blood blossoms. Both the worlds of life and death are free from his rule. Yet many years from then, the two worlds that had seperated from each other for so long, turn against each other out of fear and ignorance. The Fentons tried to maintain the balance by keeping the existence of ghosts away from most of the people in the world.

Since the fall of the king, the ghosts in the Ghost Zone had divided into many small groups. They often fight with each other for their own belief or desire. Some want to bring back the king, some want to take the throne, some want chaos and the rest just want peace.

Was bringing back the King the only solution for this mess? What if he doesn't even want to?

Other parallels:

The Red Huntress and the Guys In White–>Francis and the People

Sam Manson–>Wadi

Tucker Foley–>Ulraj

Frostbite–>Tsul 'Kalu

Frostbite is the guardian of Infinite Map, and one of the royal members of the Ghost King. He's been waiting for his return.

(Other additional headcanons to be added. You may add some if you're interested, too!)

[just-horrible-things]

Found this while I was sorting my docs, can't remember why I didn't share in the first place but I then forgot all about it until now.

Starring @ustplainwhump's Tyler Parker from her Way Over His Head in a crossover with my characters:

Key Witness

Ariadne navigates the maze of sterile white corridors using Wright’s electronic handiwork. She holds her phone in front of her like a tourist with their GPS, but instead of a map her screen shows a view of herself from above.

She’s glad she paid attention when the WRU employees gave her the tour of the place. Without it she’d be far more lost than she is. The understated building above gives little clue of the expansive warren of cells and hallways beneath the facility. The staff even confided in Ariadne – pleased with their own cleverness – the scheme of geometric marks at the corners that serve in place of legible signs to help the employees navigate down here. Unfortunately not in enough detail to let her make full use of them, but even knowing what to look for helps.

Even so, she has to pause almost every turn to flick between camera views and orient herself by the overlap where she stands under the gaze of more than one lens. She’d kill for a site plan. But this is enough.

If Wright’s doing her job, Ariadne’s in no danger from the security team whose cameras they’re making use of. She’s a ghost, her image erased from the footage before it appears on any screen but hers and Wright’s.

Being a great believer in failsafes, Ariadne has also borrowed a handler’s uniform. It’s a far flimsier defence, but with her head down and her phone angled so that the cameras can’t read the screen, she could pass at a casual glance for a handler merely dawdling about her duty while engrossed in her phone screen. 

The greatest threat to her is running into a real handler face to face. The graveyard shift is a skeleton crew compared to the industry of the day, but the facility never truly sleeps. Ariadne measures her breathing and listens intently to pick out their footfalls from the low background murmur of miserable, whimpering voices and air-conditioning hum.

So long as she hears them coming, all she has to do is absent herself a hallway or two from their path, watch their progress through the suborned camera feeds, and move on once they let themselves into the next cell or workroom.

This is a job for a team, and she was strongly advised to wait. She’s well aware of how crazy it is to be sneaking around under the nose of one of the most dangerous corporations in the country, with her only backup half a city away on the other side of her phone screen. 

If she fucks this up, they won’t find her. If they do, it won’t be before WRU have erased everything that makes her her.

But she can’t wait, because any day now they’re going to whisk her target away to another facility, or hook him up to the drugs that will neatly and conveniently erase any chance of testimony from his skull.

If Ariadne’s unlucky, they may already have started that process.

She’s seen her destination from above. The footage is high enough quality to spare no details. She knows exactly what to expect, and you can’t be squeamish in Ariadne’s line of work.  

But seeing it through the flat, impersonal eye of a camera still doesn’t quite prepare her for the reality of walking into the room.

The clinical, white-walled backdrop only accentuates the obscenity of the tableau.

They didn’t show me this shit on the tour, Ari thinks with grim humour.

Oh, the evidence of it was everywhere, they didn’t try to pretend this isn’t what they do… but it hits different when there’s a live body strapped to the table, and they know it as well as she does. Which is why they didn’t show her.

Parker’s naked as a jaybird and trussed up like the star of some niche fetish porno. For all Ariadne knows, maybe they do sell this as porn. Probably not Parker, though. They’ll be keeping this one under wraps – which is why she’s taking this absurd risk. 

The ex-handler twitches at the quiet sound of the door, and makes a hoarse, pitiful sound that could speak to more pain than the bruises Ari can see. He squirms just a little – probably as much as the tight restraints allow – and rolls his hips.

She had seen his erection through the camera, but she didn’t spare it much thought. She has other concerns. But it’s a good deal more eye-catching in person – a frankly alarming colour and twitching erratically with the shudders that roll through his straining, sweat-soaked body. 

Ari’s struck by the sudden, mortifying thought that this whole thing could conceivably be some kind of consensual horseplay. Maybe this is what passes for fun among the kinds of people that can work as WRU handlers.

It seems highly unlikely. Just not quite impossible.

She shakes off the hesitation and moves forwards. Parker’s managed to lift his head just enough to get a look at her, and she can see that they’ve gagged him with an O-ring that forces his mouth uncomfortably wide. If she had any doubts as to the purpose behind a gag like that, the evidence is crusted across his skin.

Still haunted by the nagging worry that she might have drastically misread the situation, she unbuckles the gag first, warning “keep it down,” even as she tilts the metal carefully clear of his teeth. He works his jaw with obvious discomfort, not instantaneously able to voice the questions obvious in his eyes.

“Quick check,” Ari says. “You don’t actually want to be here, do you?” He looks like he’s been crying. She’s almost entirely sure he cannot want this, so she moves on without waiting for his response to begin unbuckling the strap across his nearest wrist. It’s fastened tight, without enough room to slide her little finger between the leather and the skin. His hand is red with accumulated blood. It irks Ariadne professionally – but any nerve damage will be his problem, not hers.

When Parker finds words – mumbled and clumsy from how sore and dry his mouth must be – the response is not a clear no. It sounds a lot like “I deserve it,” which is such a fantastically stupid thing to say under the circumstances that Ari’s fingers pause on the next buckle.

“That’s not the question I asked,” she prompts. In Parker’s face, she sees her disbelief mirrored back her. More than anything else, that’s reassuring. It doesn’t look like he’s lost his mind yet. His gaze shifts briefly down his own naked body, across to the sex toys and implements of torture arrayed neatly on the wall, and back to Ariadne.

“No,” he croaks, “no, I do not want to be here.” “Good. Then this is a rescue. Stick with me, don’t make any loud noises, and do what I say, and I’ll get you out of here.”

If she had to find one good thing to say about WRU, at least they keep their equipment in good condition. All the buckles unfasten quickly and easily despite the tension. 

As soon as his arms are free, Parker tries to sit up, grunting with the pain as bruised stomach muscles try to engage. Ari spares a second to help him, then moves on to his legs. Rather than reach for the buckles himself, Parker’s hands go straight to his cock. 

For a surreal second Ari thinks he’s going to jerk off right there. 

But no. There’s a stainless steel ring – not totally dissimilar to the gag – round the base of his penis, tight enough that it’s almost buried in the flesh. It’s that that Parker’s fumbling at. Presumably it’s quite uncomfortable. Ariadne’s more than happy to leave that particular restraint to him. 

But by the time the last of the straps is loose, he hasn’t made any headway. His fingers must be numb as hell, Ari reflects, watching him paw uselessly at his cock. 

She should probably offer to help. But she hasn’t the first idea how to phrase that offer – and she still isn’t totally sure if he’s trying to get the ring off or just trying to get himself off. And she is definitely not prepared to help with the latter.

Parker notices her hesitation, or her eyes on him, and looks up. Pleading desperation and acute shame fight for supremacy across his expression. Knowing his history, Ariadne can’t find much sympathy in herself.

“Look,” he starts, voice still hoarse and shaky despite an attempt at confidence. “I have no idea who you are or what’s going on but – could you please help me get this thing off?” A deep blush is creeping across his cheeks – and down his neck to his chest – even before he’s got the words out. “Sure,” Ari agrees, wondering how you can work in this place and still feel anything like modesty. She supposes he’s not used to being the one in the compromising position.

She expects to be able to unfasten the ring somehow, but on close inspection there’s no closure, just smooth metal. “How do I…” she starts, honestly surprised that she isn’t red in the face herself, “... do I just pull?” “Not too hard,” Parker cautions with a wince – which she takes as a yes. There’s no obvious alternative, at least.

The damn thing is pretty firmly stuck in place, and the choked-back little noises he makes at her handling of his cock don’t make the job any easier. She is going to be so irritated if he cums on her. She’s very deliberately not looking at his face, but when she spits into her hand for lubrication, she sees out of the corner of her eye his blush darkening several shades.

Even more than the intense awkwardness and sheer bizarrity of the situation, it’s the time that grates on Ariadne’s nerves. Every second she’s in here is a chance to get caught in the act. It can’t take more than a minute or two in truth, but it feels like an age of fumbling before she’s able to work the ring far enough up his shaft that it stops sticking and comes off smoothly.

No sooner is he free from the ring – and her hands – than Parker is rolling over, trying to reach his ass, and Ari finds she isn’t remotely surprised that the sick fucks who’d do this to a former colleague left something up there as well.

“I’ll get it,” she tells him wearily, well aware that his fingers won’t be any less clumsy now than they were a minute ago. Maybe worse, if the pain is starting to kick in yet.

As soon as her fingertips touch the rubber base of the plug she feels the buzz, and the man’s acute squirminess suddenly makes a lot more sense. As she pulls it carefully out of him, he lets out a sound halfway between a sob and a moan. In the air, the buzzing is audible. Parker shudders and exhales in obvious relief as Ari discards the thing on the floor.

Considering how many people he must have subjected to exactly this or worse, he’s pretty fucking pathetic. In other circumstances Ariadne might even find some vindication in the poetic justice – if she weren’t wound so tight with tension and responsibility.

“Can you walk?” She had hoped he might be able to. But he’s wincing as soon as his feet – just as mistreated as his hands – touch the floor. And when he tries to take his own weight his knees buckle almost instantly. Ari has to catch him and heft him bodily back onto the table.

She shakes her head, tsking her tongue. She can’t afford to wait and see if the renewed circulation will restore any strength to his legs.

“I’ll carry you,” she decides. She sees the doubt in his eyes, but she’s stronger than she looks. He’s taller than her, and not exactly a beanpole, so she’s not sure how far she could carry him. But definitely far enough to get out of the building. “Just hold on tight as you can, don’t get your arm across my throat, don’t wriggle, and if shit hits the fan and I drop you, you’d better remember how to run sharpish because your only chance at getting out of here is sticking close to me.” He swallows visibly, and nods.

The only way she can carry him is across her shoulders, but picking him up from the edge of the table is at least a damn sight easier than hauling him off the floor would be. The fireman’s hold leaves his still-erect cock digging uncomfortably into her shoulder. “I’m sorry –” he starts, but Ariadne cuts him off. “Don’t. It is what it is, all that matters right now is getting out of here. So hold on.”

She positions his arms for him, and reminds him again not to grab across her throat, then takes just a second to make sure she can reach her stolen key card and her gun without dropping her prize.

The idiot takes the pause as an invitation to talk.

“Who are you?” She supposes it’s a fair enough question. “Agent Ariadne Milonas. You might remember me?” She didn’t speak to Parker, but she remembers picking him out at a distance for his obvious discomfort at the news of the audit. He ought to remember. “I was sent here a week ago to have a look at your operation here. You know, check the company line when they say everything’s above board and perfectly legal. And what do you know,” she sighs. “Looks like I found a crime.”

[richincolor]

January's New Releases

2024 has already started off right with a strong list of new releases of debuts, a few sequels and trilogies, and a whole slew of highly anticipated novels. Which book will you start your 2024 TBR list with? Click below to read all that has come out so far.

Week of January 2nd

Stay with My Heart by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

From the author of Counting Down with You  and  A Show for Two comes a new YA contemporary about a girl who accidentally sabotages an up-and-coming local band and falls for the guitarist while secretly trying to make up for her mistake.

Liana Sarkar lives and breathes music, hoping to follow in the footsteps of her A&R coordinator father. Maybe if she succeeds, he’ll finally give her the time of day instead of drowning himself in work to distract from the grief of her mother’s passing.

When Liana accidentally sabotages an up-and-coming local band, Third Eye, she makes it her mission to steer them towards success—without them discovering her role in their setback. But as she gets closer to Third Eye, especially their enigmatic leader Skyler Moon, it becomes harder to hide the truth.

With both her heart and their futures on the line, will Liana be able to undo the damage she’s caused?

Just Happy to Be Here by Naomi Kanakia HarperTeen

In this YA standalone perfect for fans of Tobly McSmith and Meredith Russo, the first out trans girl at an all-girls school must choose between keeping her head down or blazing a trail.

Tara just wants to be treated like any other girl at Ainsley Academy.

That is, judged on her merits—not on her transness. But there’s no road map for being the first trans girl at an all-girls school. And when she tries to join the Sibyls, an old-fashioned Ainsley sisterhood complete with code names and special privileges, she’s thrust into the center of a larger argument about what girlhood means and whether the club should exist at all.

Being the figurehead of a movement isn’t something Tara’s interested in. She’d rather read old speeches and hang out with the Sibyls who are on her side—especially Felicity, a new friend she thinks could turn into something more. Then the club’s sponsor, a famous alumna, attacks her in the media and turns the selection process into a spectacle.

Tara’s always found comfort in the power of other peoples’ words. But when it comes time to fight for herself, will she be able to find her own voice?

Dark Star Burning, Ash Falls White (Song of the Last Kingdom #2) by Amélie Wen Zhao Delacorte

Years ago, the Elantian colonizers invaded Lan’s homeland and killed her mother in their search to uncover the Last Kingdom’s greatest the location of its legendary four Demon Gods. Lan’s mother devoted her life to destroying the Demon Gods, and Lan is determined to finish her mission. Yet, there are others searching for the gods, too.

Zen knew his soul was forfeit the moment he made a deal with the Demon God known as the Black Tortoise, but he’s willing to lose himself if it means saving the Kingdom–and the girl–he loves. But to crush the colonizers who have invaded his land he needs more power than even a single Demon God can provide. He needs an army. And he knows exactly where he can find it–in the undead army his great grandfather lead decades ago.

The Elantians may have stolen their throne, but the battle for the Last Kingdom has only begun.

Ghost Roast by Shawneé and Shawnelle Gibbs & illustrated by Emily Cannon Versify

For as long as she can remember, Chelsea Grant has tried everything she can think of to distance herself from the disastrous damage her father does to her social life. It’s not easy to shake her reputation as Ghost Girl when Dad keeps advertising his business as a “paranormal removal expert” in big, bold, loud letters all over New Orleans!

This year, Chelsea’s all grown up, attending one of the most prestigious high schools in the city, and she’s finally made friends with the popular crowd. Things are looking up—until a night on the town backfires spectacularly, landing her in hot water at home. Her punishment? Working for her dad at Paranormal Removal Services. All. Summer.

Worst of all, her new job reveals an unexpected secret she has to keep: While Dad hunts ghosts with his own DIY tech, Chelsea can actually see them. And when she meets Oliver, a friendly spirit, at the fancy mansion her dad is getting a handsome fee to exorcize, she realizes she has to save his after-life, even if it risks everything her father’s worked for.

Week of January 9th

Somewhere in the Deep by Tanvi Berwah Sourcebooks Fire

Seventeen-year-old Krescent Dune is buried under the weight of her dead parents’ debt and the ruinous legacy they left behind. The only way she can earn enough money to escape her unforgiving island is by battling monstrous creatures in an underground fighting pit. After a fight goes terribly wrong, she’s banned from the pits. Now hopeless, she is offered a deal: in exchange for the erasure of her debts, she must join and protect a hunting party for a rescue mission deep within the mining caves beneath the island.

Krescent is determined to keep her head down and fulfill her role as the dutiful bodyguard, even though she is trapped underground with her childhood enemy and a company of people who would gladly kill her if they knew who her parents were. As they come across creatures she believed only existed in legends, it becomes clear they are in far more danger than she could have imagined. But someone doesn’t want her to make it out alive. And she’ll have to figure out who before she’s left alone… in the dark.

From the author of Monsters Born and Made comes an action-packed South Asian inspired fantasy that will have your heart racing at every turn.

Arya Khanna’s Bollywood Moment by Arushi Avachat Wednesday Books

Shaadi preparations are in full swing, which means lehenga shopping, taste testing, dance rehearsals, and best of all, Arya’s sister Alina is home. The Khannas are together again, finally, and Arya wants to enjoy it. So she stifles her lingering resentment towards Alina, plays mediator during her sister’s fights with their mother, and welcomes her future brother-in-law with open arms. (Okay, maybe enjoy isn’t exactly right.)

Meanwhile at school, Arya’s senior year dreams are unraveling. In between class and her part-time gig as a bookshop assistant, Arya struggles to navigate the aftermath of a bad breakup between her two best friends and a tense student council partnership with her rival, the frustratingly attractive Dean Merriweather.

Arya is determined to keep the peace at home and at school, but this shaadi season teaches Arya new realities: Alina won’t always be in the bedroom down the hall, Mamma’s sadness isn’t mendable, friendships must evolve, and life doesn’t always work out like her beloved Bollywood movies. But sometimes, the person you least expect will give you a glimpse of your dream sequence just when you need it most.

Structured like a Bollywood film (entertaining intermission included!) Arya Khanna’s Bollywood Moment will make you swoon, laugh, cry, think, nod your head in agreement, and quite possibly make you get up and dance.

Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang and illustrated by LeUyen Pham First Second

Valentina Tran was named after Valentine’s Day, which used to be her favorite holiday. But when Val learns the truth behind what happened with her parents and why she’s being raised by a single father, she realizes true love is a lie. This is reinforced when she meets the spirit of Saint Valentine, who tells her she and her family are cursed to always be unlucky in love. Val is ready to give into her fate, until one Lunar New Year festival, where a mysterious lion dancer hands her a paper heart, and ZING. Val becomes determined to change her destiny, prove Saint Valentine wrong, and give her heart to the right person.

Meanwhile, lion dancing is the only thing that has given Jae peace after his dad passed away. It’s also what keeps him connected to his father’s side of the family. Both Jae and his cousin Leslie notice Val at the Lunar New Year festival, and for some inexplicable reason, Jae hands Val a paper heart. But it’s Leslie, with his K-Pop good looks, who starts to date Val. Jae still feels this connection with Val and feels it’s somehow tied to how he feels about losing his father.

Both Val and Jae struggle with the spirits who haunt them as they are inextricably brought together in a love story that is satisfying, sweet, and moving.

Week of January 16th

Escaping Mr. Rochester by L.L. McKinney HarperTeen

Jane has no interest in a husband. Eager to make her own way in the world, she accepts the governess position at Thornfield Hall. Though her new employer, Edward Rochester, has a charming air—not to mention a handsome face—Jane discovers that his smile can sharpen in an instant. Plagued by Edward’s mercurial mood and the strange wails that echo through the corridors, she grows suspicious of the secrets hidden within Thornfield Hall—unaware of the true horrors lurking above her very head.

On the topmost floor, Bertha is trapped in more ways than one. After her whirlwind marriage to Edward turned into a nightmare, he locked her away as revenge for withholding her inheritance. Now his patience grows thin in the face of Bertha’s resilience and Jane’s persistent questions, and both young women are in more danger than they realize. When their only chance at safety—and perhaps something more—is in each other’s arms, can they find and keep one another safe before Edward’s dark machinations close in around them?

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa Feiwel & Friends

London, 1812 . Oliver Bennet feels trapped—not just by the endless corsets, petticoats, and skirts he’s forced to wear on a daily basis, but also by society’s expectations. The world, and the vast majority of his family and friends, think Oliver is a girl named Elizabeth. He is therefore expected to mingle at balls wearing a pretty dress, entertain suitors regardless of his interest in them, and ultimately become someone’s wife.

But Oliver can’t bear the thought of such a fate. He finds solace in the few times he can sneak out of his family’s home and explore the city rightfully dressed as a young gentleman. It’s during one such excursion when Oliver becomes acquainted with Darcy, a sulky young man who had been rude to “Elizabeth” at a recent social function. But in the comfort of being out of the public eye, Oliver comes to find that Darcy is actually a sweet, intelligent boy with a warm heart, not to mention attractive.

As Oliver spends more time as his true self, often with Darcy, part of him dares to hope that his dream of love and life as a man can be possible. But suitors are growing bolder―and even threatening―and his mother is growing more desperate to see him settled into an engagement. Oliver will have to choose: settle for safety, security, and a life of pretending to be something he’s not, or risk it all for a slim chance at freedom, love, and a life that can be truly his own.

So Let Them Burn (Divine Traitors #1) by Kamilah Cole Little, Brown Young Readers

Whip-smart and immersive, this Jamaican-inspired fantasy follows a gods-blessed heroine who’s forced to choose between saving her sister or protecting her homeland.

Faron Vincent can channel the power of the gods. Five years ago, she used her divine magic to liberate her island from its enemies, the dragon-riding Langley Empire. But now, at seventeen, Faron is all powered up with no wars to fight. She’s a legend to her people and a nuisance to her neighbors.

When she’s forced to attend an international peace summit, Faron expects that she will perform tricks like a trained pet and then go home. She doesn’t expect her older sister, Elara, forming an unprecedented bond with an enemy dragon—or the gods claiming the only way to break that bond is to kill her sister.

As Faron’s desperation to find another solution takes her down a dark path, and Elara discovers the shocking secrets at the heart of the Langley Empire, both must make difficult choices that will shape each other’s lives, as well as the fate of their world.

A Drop of Venom by Sajni Patel Rick Riordan Presents

Sixteen-year-old Manisha is no stranger to monsters—she’s been running from them for years, from beasts who roam the jungle to the King’s army, who forced her people, the naga, to scatter to the ends of the earth. You might think that the kingdom’s famed holy temples atop the floating mountains, where Manisha is now a priestess, would be safe—but you would be wrong.

Seventeen-year-old Pratyush is a famed slayer of monsters, one of the King’s most prized warriors and a frequent visitor to the floating temples. For every monster the slayer kills, years are added to his life. You might think such a powerful warrior could do whatever he wants, but true power lies with the King. Tired after years of fighting, Pratyush wants nothing more than a peaceful, respectable life.

When Pratyush and Manisha meet, each sees in the other the possibility to chart a new path. Unfortunately, the kingdom’s powerful have other plans. A temple visitor sexually assaults Manisha and pushes her off the mountain into a pit of vipers. A month later, the King sends Pratyush off to kill one last monster (a powerful nagin who has been turning men to stone) before he’ll consider granting his freedom.

Except Manisha doesn’t die, despite the hundreds of snake bites covering her body and the venom running through her veins. She rises from the pit more powerful than ever before, with heightened senses, armor-like skin, and blood that can turn people to stone. And Pratyush doesn’t know it, but the “monster” he’s been sent to kill is none other than the girl he wants to marry.

Alternating between Manisha’s and Pratyush’s perspectives, Sajni Patel weaves together lush language, high stakes, and page-turning suspense, demanding an answer to the question “What does it truly mean to be a monster?”

Beasts of War (Beasts of Prey #3) by Ayana Gray Nancy Paulsen Books

Once a prisoner to Fedu, the vengeful god of death, Koffi has regained her freedom, but she is far from safe. Fedu will stop at nothing to hunt her down and use her power to decimate the mortal world. Koffi knows when Fedu will during the next Bonding, a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event. To survive, Koffi will have to find powerful new allies quickly, and convince them to help her in the terrible battle to come.

Once a warrior-turned-runaway, Ekon has carved out a new life for himself outside Lkossa, but the shadows of his past still haunt him. Now, alongside unexpected friends, Ekon tries to focus on getting Koffi to the Kusonga Plains before the next Bonding. If he fails, Koffi will be consumed, either by her own dangerous power, or the terrible fate Ekon is doing everything he can to prevent. Ekon devotes himself to protecting Koffi, but the lingering threats from his own past are more urgent than he knows.

As Koffi and Ekon race to the Kusonga Plains—and try to garner the help of Eshōza’s ancient gods along the way—they must face a slew of dangerous beasts old and new. In the end, destiny may unite Koffi and Ekon for the last time—or tear them apart for good.

Week of January 23rd

Into the Sunken City by Dinesh Thiru HarperTeen

In the slowly sinking city of Coconino, Arizona, the days are long, the money is tight, and the rain never stops.

For Jin Haldar, this life is nothing new—ever since her father died in a diving accident, she’s barely made ends meet for her and her younger sister, Thara.

Enter Bhili: a drifter who offers Jin and Thara the score of a lifetime—a massive stash of gold hidden in the sunken ruins of Las Vegas.

Jin knows it’s too dangerous. She stopped diving after her father’s accident. But when her sister decides to go, Jin’s left with only one choice: to go with her.

A ragtag crew is assembled—including Jin’s annoyingly hot ex-boyfriend. From there, a high-stakes heist ensues that’s beyond even Jin’s wildest fears. Crumbling ruins, sea beasts, corsairs, and a mysterious figure named João Silva all lie in wait. To survive, Jin will have to do what she promised herself she’d never do again: dive.

Out of Our League: 16 Stories of Girls in Sports edited by Dahlia Adler and Jennifer Iacopelli Feiwel and Friends

A compelling YA anthology from editors Dahlia Adler and Jennifer Iacopelli about the trials and triumphs of girls in sports.

Ambition. Drive. Determination. Talent. Courage. Teamwork.

Every athlete knows what it takes to win. But for teen female players, the stakes are so much higher. In this anthology, the voices of these athletes come alive, highlighting the ferocity of those who are often shunted to the side. From navigating rampant misogyny to forging a sisterhood through sweat or just reveling in the love of the game, the stories in Out of Our League address the phenomenal physical and emotional power of teenage athletes as they compete, persevere, and thrive, on and off the field.

The Colliding Worlds of Mina Lee by Ellen Oh Crown

When a Korean American teenage artist gets sucked into the world of her own web comic, she must find a way out with the help of a cute boy all while facing off against a villainous corporation. Inspired by the A-ha’s “Take on Me” music video, this entertaining YA novel is a grounded speculative fiction adventure from the co-founder of We Need Diverse Books.

Mina has become the hero of her own story. Literally.

When Mina Lee woke up on Saturday morning for SAT prep, she did NOT expect to:

1. Nearly be fried by a superhero who turned out to be a supervillain. 2. Come face to face with Jin, the handsome boy of her dreams. 3. Discover a conspiracy involving the evil corporation Merco that she created.

And it’s all happening in her fictional world. Mina is trapped in the story she created. Now it’s up to her to save everyone. Even if it means losing Jin forever.

Barracoon by Zora Neal Hurston, Adapted by Ibram X. Kendi, Illustrated by Jazzmen Lee-Johnson HarperCollins Childrens

In the first middle grade offering from Zora Neale Hurston and Ibram X. Kendi, young readers are introduced to the remarkable and true-life story of Cudjo Lewis, one of the last survivors of the Atlantic human trade, in an adaptation of the internationally bestselling and critically acclaimed Barracoon.

This is the life story of Cudjo Lewis, as told by himself.

Of the millions of men, women, and children transported from Africa to America to be enslaved, eighty-six-year-old Cudjo Lewis was then the only person alive to tell the story of his capture and bondage—fifty years after the Atlantic human trade was outlawed in the United States. Cudjo shared his firsthand account with legendary folklorist, anthropologist, and writer Zora Neale Hurston.

Adapted with care and delivered with age-appropriate historical context by award-winning historian Ibram X. Kendi, Cudjo’s incredible story is now available for young readers and emerging scholars. With powerful illustrations by Jazzmen Lee-Johnson, this poignant work is an invaluable contribution to our shared history and culture.

[guardianofthedawn]

Deity!AU: Speculation

(Trigger warning: slightly suggestive and a touch of swearing.)

 …slowly working down the column, feeling her pulse quicken under his lips, his hands ghosting up and down her sides as if to memorise the dips and grooves of her skin…

“Has anyone noticed the Grandmaster’s mood lately?” The other Lin Kuei warriors glanced over at their green-eyed comrade, some tilting their heads in confusion.

“What mood? He’s got one: pissed,” replied a warrior with three scars above their left eye.

“I mean, he’s not so pissed these days.” The green-eyed warrior sat down next to their scarred comrade. “I mean, I fucked up a training drill pretty bad last week, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you know what he did?” The scarred warrior shrugged. “Nothing!”

 …name falling from her lips like a chant as he mapped out her stomach and breasts with his hands and lips, her hands tangled in his loose hair to hold him in place, blooming marks fuelling his desire further…

“You’re reading too far into it.” A warrior without their mask waved their hand dismissively. “The Grandmaster doesn’t need a reason to switch out his moods, and even if he did he wouldn’t tell us about it.” There was a murmur of muted agreement from the group.

“Do you think it has to do with the changing seasons?” asked the scarred warrior. “It’s not as cold this Winter as it has been.”

“That’s because Grandmaster Scorpion got infected with Chaos toward the end of Summer so it’s taking a while to shake the heat,” replied the maskless warrior. Another murmur of agreement; that had been a rather hairy fight to rescue the Summer god, and while he wouldn’t have admitted it none were more relieved than their Grandmaster that his brother was going to be okay. 

“Do you think the Grandmaster’s getting laid?” The green-eyed warrior smirked at the indignant noises their comrades made.

 …set a rhythm only they could feel, sloppy kisses punctuating the movements where breathy moans and gasps did not, sweat slicked skin glistening in the dim light…

“You’re gross!” The scarred warrior pushed their green-eyed comrade off their seat. “Why the hell would you have us think about the Grandmaster getting laid?!”

“It would explain his muted mood,” quipped the green-eyed warrior, picking themselves up to return to their seat.

“Okay, who would he bed if your theory proves to be true?” The maskless warrior raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“I hadn't gotten that far yet, screw you.”

“Nice comeback.”

“Warriors.” All three of them immediately stood up as Sub-Zero’s deep voice cut short their conversation. “You have new orders at your quarters.”

“We will go immediately, Grandmaster.” The scarred warrior bowed their head and led their comrades toward their living quarters to receive their latest orders.

The green-eyed warrior cast one more glance back at the Grandmaster. “I’m putting money on the Lifegiver in bed with the Grandmaster,” they whispered.

“What? Why?” asked the maskless warrior.

“Because there was a flower petal stuck under his left pauldron.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, there’s flowers in his office if you remember the last time we were in there.” The green-eyed warrior scrunched their nose and sighed disappointedly.

 …world began turning at pace, rocking the two of them to post-ecstasy slumber, content and locked in the other’s embrace.