#who is an exceptionally chill guy

[gravitywonagain]

Mountain Immortal

(a Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees story)

.

Wei Ying is in the zone. 

It’s after lessons have closed on a Tuesday and he’s sitting at a table in the main lodge, editing his and Nie Huaisang’s latest video footage while waiting for Wen Qing to close up the clinic for the day. “Tangerine” is blasting in his headphones and his beat up laptop hasn’t overheated yet. The clips he’s working on are the fails, the attempts, the outtakes. They’re probably his favorites to go through because the pain has passed, but the lesson lives on, and, most of the time, they’re just really funny. Watching Jiang Cheng eat shit off a rail, while knowing that he’s fine, will never get old. 

So he’s totally in the zone. Which is probably why he doesn’t notice Lan Zhan over his shoulder until he feels a hand shaking him gently.

There’s something like panic in Lan Zhan’s voice when Wei Ying removes his headphones.

“When was this?” he asks.

“Ah? Lan Zhan…?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Am I — Lan Zhan, what’s wrong?”

Lan Zhan points to the screen where the Wei Ying of a little over a week ago just landed hard on his ass after a failed rail slide. 

“Ah, no, it’s fine. Wen Qing said all the bleeding was internal. That’s where the blood is supposed to be!”

Alarm lights in Lan Zhan's eyes, his eyebrows twitch toward his hairline.

“It’s a reference!" Wei Ying says, backpedaling hard and fast. "A bad reference. And a joke! Importantly, it’s a joke. I’m fine. I promise. No bleeding, internally or externally. Just a giant bruise on my ass. And on my pride."

Lan Zhan's expression settles out again, and Wei Ying takes a breath. He scoots his laptop over as Lan Zhan takes a seat, pressing play on the clip so that Lan Zhan can see the Wei Ying on the screen roll on the ground for a minute before hopping back up to his feet and trying the rail slide again.

"Nie Huaisang edits all of the good stuff," Wei Ying says. "I get to play with all the stuff he cuts out."

Lan Zhan hums as he watches Wei Ying fall off the rail a second time, though much less spectacularly than the first. "I didn't know you filmed snowboarding movies."

"Movies?" Wei Ying laughs. "You make me sound like Uncle Xiao. No, no. Just stupid little shit like this. Clips and compilations for YouTube. Huaisang just didn't want to go to film school."

“Uncle Xiao?” Of course he would pick up on that. Wei Ying can see him putting it together. He’s so smart. He can’t not. “Xiao Xingchen?”

Wei Ying really does try not to flaunt his connection to living legend Xiao Xingchen, backcountry snowboarder and filmmaker of many a ski resort employees' dreams. But Lan Zhan is Lan Zhan. His family does own this entire mountain. He won't likely be prone to the same starstruck jealousy as many of Uncle Song's rental techs.

“Uh, yeah. He was a close friend of my mom’s.”

Lan Zhan nods.

“He, uh. He used to film me when I was just learning. And then when I was getting better. He didn’t,” Wei Ying has to clear his throat against the memories before he continues, “he didn’t get into making movies for the money. He’s just always liked filming. Uncle Song fucking hates it. I still don’t know how Uncle Xiao convinced him to be in Distant Snow and Cold Frost.”

“Mr. Song does not seem the type to enjoy being filmed.”

“‘Mr. Song.’ So formal, Lan Zhan!”

“He is my coworker. And a department head.” 

“Sure, but he’s also a fucking knuckle-dragger. Just call him Song Lan. For me.”

Lan Zhan hesitates, and Wei Ying can see the impropriety of it eating away at him. But, after a moment, he acquiesces with a quiet, “Mn.”

“Have you seen any of Xiao Xingchen’s films?”

“I have. We screened Mountain Immortal here after it won an award at Banff.”

“Ah! I can’t watch that one without crying, like a lot.”

“It was a beautiful tribute.”

It was a beautiful tribute. Cangse Sanren, as she’s known in the world of winter sports, and Wei Changze had died in an avalanche in Colorado while Xiao Xingchen had been filming in Alaska. When he heard about it, Uncle Xiao had taken his movie about the history of splitboarding and made it into a memorial to his sister and her husband. Of course, it still flowed really well because he just made it a family thing. Grandma Baoshan was still a main feature as the inventor of the splitboard. She passed her backcountry spirit onto her kids and on down. 

There was so much home-video footage from Xiao Xingchen’s teenage fascination with cameras, so much footage of Wei Ying’s mom. Less of Wei Changze, but there was enough. 

Wei Ying pauses, considering how he wants to take this conversation. He could just pass this off as a passing interest, or shift to talking about outdoor sports in the film industry. But he’s been pushing Lan Zhan out of his comfort zone a lot. Possibly too much. He’s earned this, if he wants it. So Wei Ying takes a deep breath and says, “It’s my family.”

“Your… You’re Cangse Sanren’s son?”

“I am!” He smiles as bright and wide as he used to for her. It almost doesn't hurt to do it for Lan Zhan.

“So when you said ‘uncle,’ you meant…”

“Yeah! Mama was never formally adopted by Grandma Baoshan, but yeah. I meant jiujiu.”

This is the moment, usually, when someone will lavish him with sympathy, condolences or whatever. Wei Ying hates it, but he understands. Death is hard, but more than that it's weird. It lingers, haunting every relationship for the rest of forever.

But Lan Zhan doesn't say all the uncertain placating things that Wei Ying is used to. His face draws in, not in discomfort but in… understanding.

He hums, a small sad noise and then says, “My mom died when I was young, too.”

Wei Ying could almost fall over with relief. Which is. Not the reaction he should have to that. “Do you remember her?” he asks.

“A little. I was six.”

“Oh, I was fourteen.”

“Tell me about her?”

Wei Ying gasps a little, despite himself. “Really?”

“You don’t hav—”

“No, I’d like to. I just." Nobody has ever asked him that before. "Yeah! Okay.” 

Wei Ying takes a deep breath. He doesn’t really know where to start, so he just talks. He tells Lan Zhan stories from his childhood. Stories about snow and laughter and family. 

He talks about her smile and the way she always seemed to have snow in her braid. She used to spray him with powder every time he beat her down the hill. It was funny and very Mama, but it also taught him to go slower, to take his time on the slope. She refused to let anybody else teach him how to ride. She taught him to carve, first on groomers and then in powder. She used to put hand warmers in her boots because her toes were always cold. And she was just constantly losing pairs of goggles. 

He tells Lan Zhan the story of how Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze met. How they shared a chair at Park City and Wei Changze, a skier, had waited for Cangse to strap in. How he had followed her, kept up with her, impressed her. How she’d invited him for a drink at the lodge but, when they figured out that neither of them could afford ski resort alcohol, they’d crawled into the back of Wei Changze’s beat up station wagon and smoked weed in the parking lot. 

He tells him about skiing between his baba’s legs when he was too young to snowboard. About Wei Changze’s impressive will power and consistency, like how he would just quit drinking coffee occasionally when he felt he was too addicted. And his lifelong commitment to skis, despite his wife’s family’s many attempts to convert him. It won him great esteem from one of his mothers-in-law and… something else from the other. 

“Grandma Baoshan always called him an ‘unrepentant skier’ and I was never sure if she meant that as a compliment or an insult.”

He tells him about his first backcountry trip when he was 9. About the absurdly small splitboard Baoshan Sanren had built for him in her garage. And then about Baoshan Sanren’s garage. The things she made, the prototypes she’d scrapped. How Song Lan was, and still is, the only one she allowed to fully access the garage, not even her wife is allowed in there unsupervised. And the way she’d chase Xiao Xingchen away any time he’d tried to point a camera in her general direction. 

He talks about Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan and going on full family outings with all seven of them packing into two cars and driving to the slopes in the early morning dark. How little Wei Ying would just cruise up the skin tracks once they’d been broken in. How he’d built his muscles surrounded by family and fresh powder. How he’d learned early to earn his turns. 

“I’ll take you up a mountain the fun way sometime,” he offers, and then laughs, delighted by Lan Zhan’s eager acceptance. 

He tells stories of Song Lan teaching him how to do all of the practical maintenance on skis and snowboards and splitboards because he basically did all of it for the whole family. Wei Changze would help and Wei Ying would get the skins all tangled and stuck to each other. How difficult it can be to get that adhesive out of hair. Or hair out of the adhesive. 

“There’s actually a picture in Mountain Immortal,” he says, “of me sitting in a pile of probably ten pairs of skins that Baba and Uncle Song had piled on me because I was causing so much trouble.”

He tells Lan Zhan that his favorite memory, the one he always goes back to, is of just the three of them. They’re at a resort, actually. Which one doesn’t matter, Wei Ying wouldn’t be able to recall the name anyway. All he sees is Wei Changze with his ski poles stuck out behind him for his wife and son to hold onto as he skates the three of them over the flats. 

“I was probably eleven at the time? Mama was squatting low, keeping her board flat, but she kept reaching over and poking at my knees trying to make me fall over.”

He’s crying, he realizes. Laughing and crying. He wonders how long that’s been going on as he wipes the tears from his cheeks. 

It’s that motion that finally pulls him back into the present. The lodge is empty, there’s a red and white paper tray half-full of fries between him and Lan Zhan that he doesn’t remember either of them getting up to buy, but he can taste the salt on his tongue so he knows he’s eaten some. His laptop is dead, but its battery was low anyway. Still, it must have been at least an hour since Lan Zhan found him here. 

“Sorry,” Wei Ying says, “that was probably a lot more than you were prepared for.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes are rimmed red and it’s possible he was crying at some point, too. He smiles. It’s small but real in a way few smiles are. It makes Wei Ying’s heart jump into his throat. 

“Thank you for telling me about your family, Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan with an honesty that matches his smile. 

Wei Ying sniffs and rubs his hands against his snow pants. He shakes his head to shake away the ghosts. "You should really come out to one of our sessions some time," he says, gesturing toward the laptop. "You would look great on film."

Lan Zhan doesn't roll his eyes. Instead he looks pointedly toward the black screen where Wei Ying was just editing videos of him falling on his ass.

Another laugh jolts its way out of Wei Ying's lungs. This one isn't sad at all. And Lan Zhan is smiling again.

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 3 (use whole signs)

🎀 For a lot of people with moon in 7th house, their mother had a huge impact on their personality (in a good or bad way). They'll either admire her a lot and try to be more like her or, do their best to not be like her. Their mother usually has a lot of say in who they marry. If the ascendant lord is not strong, then these people completely change after marriage and start to behave in a way in which their spouse would like them to.

🐈‍⬛Saturn in 9th house people can be really good when it comes to their career, they end up getting promoted earlier than others, but I've noticed that they prefer to work alone. It's like, they create something, but they would like someone else to market and sell it since communication is not their strong suit. Can be very introverted, not the best at taking initiatives, are very prone to undermining themselves.

🎀 moon in 11th house people have a really good relationship with their kids (unless it's debilitated). It doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl, it's the same for both. They're the parents who have a very "chill" relationship with their kids, their kids trust them a lot, treat them as a friend. All my friends who have a great and healthy relationship with their parents, 85% of those parents had moon in 11th.

🐈‍⬛ Mars in 5th house people have such an "interesting" dating life; love triangles, friends with benefits, they've (or will) experienced it all. The people to say "it's complicated" when you ask them about their love life. But I've also seen that these people are very accepting of other people's dating preferences, this is one of the things that I really admire about them, this can result in them having a very diverse group of friends.

🎀 Jupiter aspecting ascendant/midheaven is one of the best placements that you could possibly have. I was going through celebrities' charts and I noticed that the ones who were exceptionally popular or rich had this like 90% of the time. With opposition and square it can indicate that people hate you at first, but then some info comes out and suddenly everyone loves you, but you gotta go through the hate first. Conjunction can go either way depending on the sign.

🐈‍⬛ Saturn in 4th house women have my full respect, like, these people go through so much shit in their life and yet they're so hardworking and never give up. Their mother was probably their worst enemy growing up. If you know someone who has this, give them a hug, they're carrying so much burden, and yet they never show it. You'll never hear these people complaining about life, have a very, "it's okay, problems come and go, you can't be sad all the time" mentality.

🎀 Sun in 1st house people make me so angry, I don't get along with them. They have such a shitty personality, and always wanna fight for absolutely no reason. Start a beef out of nowhere, but they are so fucking good at their job, that's actually what makes me hate them more. My class representative has this, and she's such a bitch, but she's so responsible, it breaks my fucking heart, can't even complain 😔

🐈‍⬛ Mercury in 11th house people have unmatched Rizz, will charm the pants off you (unless it's debilitated). I'm so jealous of people who have this. I know people with this, who are not conventionally attractive but their charm is what makes people like them. I never knew what it meant to be attracted to someone's personality until I met someone who had this. (I know this sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it's really not)

🎀 I have never in my life met a moon in 8th house person who was like....okay. these people will have a mental breakdown almost every week. Can't take criticism AT ALL. I have seen that people with this have a tendency to date whoever they see once they break up, just to show their ex how "wanted" they are, and it's not healthy because a lot of their hook ups have bad intentions. Have a habit of playing the victim "everyone bullies me 🥺" "I have the hardest life" and blah blah. On a positive note, they can handle fame really well because of their ability to manipulate people, once you get in their trap and start liking them, you'll never be able to hate them.

🐈‍⬛ I never see people talking about how smart Venus in 3rd house people are. I'm always so amazed by the way they carry conversations. A lot of women who have won beauty paegents have this because of how nice their answers were. A lot of young politicians have this as well. Their juniors often look up to them.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[adragonthatwrites]

I think, in our desire to make Shen Qingqiu a little guy who loves monsters in fics (very good, wonderful, we love this, BUT), we have missed the opportunity to make him the monster in the AU. I raise to you:

LiuShen Naga AU, where Shen Qingqiu is the naga.

Monster hunter/supernatural pest control guy Liu Qingge who gets called to a small rural town because there's some sort of monster about. The locals have not sighted it, but the behavior of their livestock and sudden dip in wildlife population indicates some sort of large, likely supernatural predator has moved in.

This can be modern AU or cultivator AU! The only important thing is this; nagas are not something Liu Qingge would normally deal with. They're huge and incredibly dangerous, with extraordinary stealth skills. If a naga's around you, you won't know it unless they want you to, and by that point it'll be too late. Their venom is also legendary. So whatever the context of the AU; a naga is something above Liu Qingge's roster of things he'll go after, simply because while bullheaded, he is not suicidal.

So, Liu Qingge investigates the mountains, but finds almost nothing to suggest the kind of beast he suspects to be there. He makes several trips over the course of several days, each time going deeper and deeper into the mountains beside the small village. He finds what he thinks are signs of something there, though he doesn't recognize exactly what could have made them (nagas are very solitary and exceptionally rare, and signs of their presence difficult to find or identify. Liu Qingge has never encountered one before this, nor is he expecting to, so he doesn't recognize up the signs for what they are)

The moment of realization comes when he's deep, deep into the mountains one evening and stumbles upon an odd object on the ground. Large, green, slightly translucent. He lifts it, and feels his blood run cold as he sees the pattern of massive scales and realizes he's holding the shed of a naga.

A fully grown naga, who absolutely knows he's here. Who's den he's probably standing dangerously close to, if there's a shed. A naga who, undoubtedly, has been watching him for the better part of his time searching these mountains, without him ever realizing it.

His heads whips around, searching the area around him. He's been allowed to move within and leave the territory unimpeded thus far; he may be able to get out now, provided the naga hasn't realized how close he's gotten to it's den. If he moves quickly...

It's at that moment his eyes catch on a shadow, falling strangely on the forest floor. He pauses, eyes faltering, before with a sudden harsh chill he finds himself starring directly into a pair of vibrant green eyes with sharp slit pupils. He can just make out the shape of a massive emerald green naga crouched in the underbrush, less than a hundred feet away from him.

And he feels the rush of cold harsh terror only experienced by a prey animal suddenly realizing it's in the sights of a predator.

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. click here to view all parts.

content: gay pining, angst, thought spirals, fluff

word count: 4k

this is the final part. thank you so much for all your support! very sorry for the delay, I honestly had this sitting in my drafts on here for WEEKS y'all. this was supposed to have already been uploaded and silly me never logged back on to double check.

Chapter Five

When you wake, your muscles feel like jelly. You're hyper aware of the sheets underneath you—how warm they are. And how your duvet swaddles you just the right way…Your pillow smells good. Like coming home after a long day of work. Like Sevika. 

Suddenly, there's movement behind you.

And that's when you realize it's her breath. It tickles the back of your neck, stutters momentarily while she shifts, then resumes. A chill runs down the slope of your back as you feel pressure around your waist, which happens to be her arm. She pulls you closer to her as if she's afraid of you getting up right then.

“Sev?”

But there's no answer. The only sound that echoes is a soft snore and grinding teeth.

You bite back a smile while your muscles relax, and you lean into the inviting embrace of the woman behind you.

“You’re staring,” Sevika mutters. Her eyes remain downcast as she dries off a freshly washed knife. You admire how strong she looks in that moment; how she’s handling such a thing with the utmost care.

Sevika standing there with a sparkling knife shouldn’t be an image that you welcome. Yet you do. 

“Am I?” You mutter. Your lips barely part as you get lost at the sight of the woman before you. 

She peers at you under the lids of her lashes, eyebrows raising with sparkling pools of grey. 

“I don’t mind it.” She says quietly, almost sweetly. Her gaze readjusts quickly back to the task at hand–the knife–despite it already being completely dry. “I never do.”

Your eyes follow her slow and careful movements, towel in her right hand and utensil in her left. Your heart flutters.

Softly, you smile and manage only then to look away. 

Alicia bends over, hand gripping the porch handrail as a tear trickles down her face. She’s laughing, which you usually don’t mind, but this time it’s at your expense.

“It’s not that funny,” You mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Hun, it’s known to all of mankind,” Mel chimes in. “That you’re quite dramatic.”

“Am not!”

Another round of guffaws. 

That’s when you glance towards Sevika, who’s relaxing in a rocking chair across from you. She somehow thought that today was the perfect day to tell Alicia and Mel about your waxing incident a few weeks back. Maybe you should find some sort of humor in it; after all, it turned out fine after an application of aloe vera. 

But still.

It was embarrassing.

“What about the night I told you that I’d be moving in with Alicia?” Mel’s eyes shine from the distant memory. “You were hysterical.”

“Okay, now you’re overexaggerating.”

“Remember when you said that me moving out was the beginning of your end? That you were doomed to grow old and die alone in a nursing home–”

“Mel.”

“While Alicia and I had to explain to our kids what happened to their Aunt-”

“It was a rational fear.”

At this point, Alicia is struggling to breathe. She grips the sides of her ribs, eyes squinted shut and jaw slack from silent laughter. She crouches down to the floor, hands stabilizing themselves on the arm of Sevika’s rocking chair. You notice Sevika’s amusement seconds later; how she coughs fakely into her inner elbow while her forehead crinkles. Mel giggles when you playfully shove her.

“I hate you guys.” 

For a split second, you peer at Sevika to find that she’s already regarding you. Her pupils are dilated and her full lips have stretched into a lazy grin. Her cupid’s bow looks exceptionally prominent, reminding you of how warm her mouth felt when pressed against you this morning. 

She winks and manages to pull you from the memory. 

Mel rolls her eyes, sending you a cheesy grin. “You love us.”

You open your mouth to object, but nothing comes out. You can’t fight it. Because Mel is right.

You do.

When you wake up, the first detail that you can pinpoint is the smell of something warm and sophisticated. Your eyes flutter.

“Careful.” The murmur is low. Gentle. Sevika. “You’ll wake her.”

“Sorry,” The distinct lilt of Mel’s voice. “Do you need help getting her into the car?”

Shifting, “No, it’s okay.”

Then there’s movement. Is it you? Is it Sevika? You’re too drowsy to be able to fully tell. You try to open your eyes, but the pull is too enticing.

“Thank you for always looking after her…” Mel’s voice draws closer. There’s the warmth of another body now, and a gust of Mel’s signature fruity perfume. You struggle to register the feeling of being smothered by two people. Is Sevika carrying you? “She may never tell you, but she appreciates you so much.”

Mel pulls away, squeezing your arms briefly. When you try to open your eyes, your vision can only make out the edge of a jawline that curves into a neck. Sevika’s neck.

Arms hold you with a strength you hadn’t thought possible. Fingers press into your skin when you shift your weight–or try to. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Sevika says. Her voice has dipped down to an incredibly low volume, much closer to your ear than before. Her skin–at least, that’s what you think it is–brushes against your cheek for a few seconds. Lingering there before disappearing again. “Just rest.”

If you were fully awake, you’d probably be absolutely embarrassed by the thought of Sevika carrying you to the car. You must have fallen asleep after dinner, since your last memory is sitting around the fireplace with Sevika, Alicia and Mel. 

But you’re too tired to feel embarrassed.

And you’re too comfortable.

There’s a hand that touches your shoulder, a gentle caress before it pulls away and then, “She looks exhausted,” Mel whispers. 

Sevika hums. The voices begin to drift away again. You catch the end of a sentence, very specifically the words, “...Haven’t told her yet,” before you succumb to a restful sleep.

It’s only when your neck is sore from being craned, forehead resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, when your eyes flutter open. You see flashing lights and blurred buildings, and for a second, you're incredibly disoriented as you try to register the passing world. But then there's a hand that rests on your thigh, the slight caress from a thumb, before you're being gently squeezed.

“Almost home,” Sevika mutters.

You blink slowly and gaze at her side profile. There’s certain parts of her that are beautifully accentuated in the dark of the night. Her grey eyes glow as they shift from streetlights to traffic, always alert and ever-watchful. Her full lips move discreetly as she hums along to the car radio. There's something sweet that settles in your mouth then, a new flavor that you're not quite used to. After walking around the world with a bitter-aftertaste for so long, you almost convince yourself that anything else is wrong. But you know, deep down, it’s completely the opposite.

This couldn't be anymore right.

You're at a red light now and Sevika does not hesitate to flick through the radio channels, frowning in distaste at some of the songs. Your heart dances at the sight. 

“Thank you,” You find yourself saying.

Her gaze remains on the radio and she allows the silence to be enveloped by a commercial before she replies. “For what?”

“Being you. And lovi–” You swallow thickly. “...caring for me.”

You can tell that melts through to her. Your words have found a way to pierce that shell of nonchalance she always carries. Her lashes flutter and you swear you hear the slightest hitch of her breath. 

But then the light turns green, the car jolts forward and she glances back towards the road. 

The moment passes and so does the rest of your courage. 

You can’t seem to find your courage around Sevika anymore. 

The next morning, you wake to the smell of bacon lingering in the air. A cloud of fatigue hangs over you whilst you make yourself presentable. Even after splashing ice cold water on your face–and brushing your teeth twice–you barely manage to keep your eyes open when you approach the kitchen. 

Sevika stands at the island, dressed in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. A few strands of hair sweep the sharp lines of her jaw as her gaze remains on the task in front of her. With deep concentration, she slices through a strawberry. Several pieces of said fruit sit in a bowl to her left. 

It’s ridiculous that the mere sight of her is enough to wake up every atom in your body. Within seconds, your drowsiness has dissipated, and you stand before her with your teeth working into your bottom lip. 

Her head snaps up upon your arrival, grey eyes alert before softening (a telltale sign that she was deep in thought) when they land on you. 

“Strawberries?” Is all that you can say.

Her eyebrows fret together–lips parting, “They’re your favorite right?” She appraises your forehead, then your nose, before returning back to your eyes. “Or do you not like them anymore?”

She remembers. 

Your ears ring and for a split second, you’re convinced you’ll become a puddle on the floor.

Behind her, on the opposing countertop, sits a platter of bacon and prepared scrambled eggs.  

It’s a simple gesture��but the emotions that said gesture ignites feel dangerous. Scary. All encompassing. 

Lines of worry etch themself onto Sevika’s forehead as you struggle to respond.

You want to tell her. You need to tell her.

But how? 

Is it not too soon? Will it scare her away?

To jump or not to jump is the true question that you find yourself wanting to answer. How do people take the plunge? Put their hearts on the line with a possibility of it being crushed?

“Is this too much?” She asks, voice much quieter now.

If you look close enough, you’d almost believe that there was a cloud of desperation swirling in Sevika’s grey irises. Your head shakes slightly as you try to recenter yourself. 

There it is again–that ear ringing sensation that makes you want to jump into her arms while simultaneously collapsing onto the ground. The pull towards her–the one that’s always there–no matter how many times you try to wish it away.

You shake your head, only managing to croak, “I love strawberries,” with a pounding heart.

I love you.

“It’s not too much,” You add. 

You could never be too much. 

Sevika doesn’t move–doesn’t blink. Barely breathes.

Your lips part and she watches you with a patience that’s warm enough to console you even during the coldest winters. She’s waiting for you to say something more. 

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

“Come here,” Her command is nothing more than a whisper. 

Your mouth goes dry when you watch her set the knife back down on the chopping board. She side-steps, strawberries long forgotten, as her hands stretch for you.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to close the distance. Despite your tongue being tied, and despite that god-awful lump in the back of your throat, your body doesn’t hesitate in following her. It never will.

Her hands, as tender as they can be, cup the apple of your cheeks. “Are you sure this is okay?” Her breath fans your skin, nose nearly inches from yours as her head bows to meet your gaze head-on.

You nod, boneless and vulnerable. 

“This is okay,” Is pretty much all that you can manage to respond. “More than okay.” 

And that seems to be enough for her. Her shoulders relax and she dips down to meet you with a kiss.

You can feel the beads of perspiration dripping down the nape of your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you step into the lobby, eyes immediately landing on two receptionists sitting at the front desk. 

One of them sports auburn ringlets and hazel eyes. Small rectangular frames sit on the edge of her nose, and she’s dressed in all black with a large scale spider tattooed onto the front of her neck. 

Two people sit in the lobby chairs positioned against one of the walls. One of them is deeply attuned to their smartphone. The other is asleep.

The receptionist with the spider tattoo follows your movements with acute focus. You shoot her a lazy smile, slightly dazed from rushing two blocks and also stressed about the time. 

Your eyes dart to the watch on your left wrist as you reach the receptionist desk.

4:17 PM.

You’re late.

“Hi,” You breathe, before taking a long gulp of water. Your purse is barely hanging off of your shoulder, chest heaving up and down as you struggle to breathe while simultaneously inhaling half of the contents in your hydroflask. 

The woman stares at you tepidly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she blinks. That’s when you notice how striking her hazel eyes are, which happen to be coated with a thick layer of black eyeliner and mascara. Her name reads:

Sage

She/her

Sage’s coworker, a muscular brunette with a buzzcut and two industrial piercings, finally glances up from their book. Their name tag, much more shinier than Sage’s, reads: 

Mav

He/him

Mav is friendlier, greeting you with a wide grin. Wrinkles appear around his eyes when he does so. “Hey! Are you here for an appointment?”

Your eyes dart to Sage, who is still appraising you with a harsh stare. She plays with the lanyard around her neck as her head slightly tilts. 

You shift your weight nervously, “I’m actually visiting Sevika. Um,” You redirect your gaze back to Mav. “She’s my…” A heatwave flashes through you as you try to form a comprehensible sentence. “I’m uh, like, her…” God. This is awkward. “I was originally supposed to be here at 3:45? I don’t know if she told you. Um-”

“Oh!” A hint of recognition flashes across Mav’s face. His smile widens and his gaze travels to every detail of your face. “You're Sev’s girl? It’s nice to finally meet you! I swear to God, it’s been ages of us asking,” Mav pauses, glancing over to Sage for reassurance. “...About when we would finally see you. We were beginning to think that Sev has just been lying all this time. Or that the whole love triangle thing between you, her and Monica was just a big story she made up t-Ow!”

It almost looks as if Sage kicks Mav. Mav winces, reaching underneath the desk to check on–what you assume to be–his leg. His eyes narrow as he sends a side-long glare in Sage’s direction, but the deadpan woman ignores him. 

Instead, Sage glances at you, humor dancing in the swirls of her hazel irises as she stands to her feet. “I'll let Sevika know you're here,” She murmurs.

“Thanks. I texted her a few times but she hasn't responded so I figured she’s probably busy with,” You clear your throat. “Tattooing and… stuff.”

One of Sage’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. She doesn't say anything more, turning on her heels and rounding the corner that leads to another room. When you return your gaze back to Mav, he’s already nose-deep into his novel; your presence long forgotten.

A few minutes later, you hear footfalls echoing from the hallway. It sounds like multiple, which causes your shoulders to tense and back to straighten. Subconsciously, you wipe your palms against the denim of your jeans. A worn pair of black boots rounds the corner, clunking against the marble floors. Your eyes travel up the fitted dark-washed jeans and stop on Sevika’s exposed shoulders—thanks to her sleeves being cut off.

You aren’t able to get much ogling done before she speaks.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” Her voice is low. A bit strained but laced with an undertone of satisfaction. Sage quietly trails behind, eyeing the two of you before sitting back down in her seat. 

You aren’t quite sure how to greet Sevika; at least, not in public like this. Especially since you’re at her workplace. Surely, kissing would be inappropriate?

Thankfully, she doesn’t give you a chance to truly decide. Instead, her arm drapes over your shoulders as she pulls you into her side–a half hug, to your surprise–while something warm presses against your temple.

Her lips.

The kiss is too fleeting for you to register it at that moment. It’s only when she pulls away, squeezing your left shoulder and urging you to walk with her when the gesture dawns on you.

“Are you hungry?” Her lips brush against your right ear, voice low. “I ordered food. It got here a while ago though so we’ll most likely have to microwave it.”

Your skin is warm. Every inch of it. 

Blinking through a daze, your head tilts in her direction as you nod. “That's fine with me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you still feel the heavy stare of Sage. You wait until you’re further away and out of sight from the receptionist desk when you add, “The woman…Sage? She’s kind of, uh, intense don't you think?”

Sevika doesn't necessarily laugh at your statement but her lips do stretch into a small grin as she exhales shakily. “Yeah, she is. Mostly nosy, is all. And she’s not really a people person—her apprenticeship starts here soon though. She’s one hell of an artist. So we’re keeping her at the front until then.”

You hum at the thought, Sage quickly fading from your brain as Sevika’s arm drops from your shoulders. Instead, you feel a loose grip around your waist–her fingers rest around the curve of your hip and gently urge you to move closer to her. The pair of you have long passed the piercing and tattoo stations, nearing the tail end of the building where a staircase leads to a second floor. Silently, she gestures for you to begin climbing.

Your eyebrows raise and you glance at her, “Up?” You ask, not bothering to mask your surprise. Your index finger motions towards the second floor.

“Where else?” She gives you a quizzical stare.

You suppose it was a bit silly to think that the pair of you would be anywhere else. It’s not like it’s sanitary or professional to be lounging around the tattoo stations, especially if you’re eating food soon. 

It was early this morning when Sevika proposed the idea of having a meal together. She mentioned that it could be at her job, since you haven’t seen the inside of her building (and it’s also geographically convenient since her tattoo shop is closer to home than your office).

The moment you heard the words food and tattoo shop, you immediately said yes. Spending more time together has especially been on your mind lately (and you’ve always had a nagging desire to see this side of her). 

However, you hadn’t actually thought through the logistics of the plan. Not until now. 

“Will it be too taxing for you? I’m sorry–I didn’t even realize–” She points in the direction you just came from. “...The elevators are in the lobby. We can walk back if you want. Are you hurting badly?”

What?

Oh. 

Oh.

The car accident.

You were sore from time to time, but not as bad as before. Quickly, you grab her hand and begin to climb the stairs. “No, actually–” You struggle to hide your smile. “...I’m okay with taking the stairs.” 

You lead the way, with the help of a few directions from her.

Sevika’s office is heavily decorated with all things that describe her. Hundreds of sketches are pinned to a wall while three signed basketball jerseys are hung up on another. There's an incense burning, per usual, when the pair of you walk into the room. A window is slightly propped open and gives you a perfect view of the city. Art clippings and photographs are sprawled across the desk, and a tall lamp is positioned in the corner of the room. To your right is a couch, with a folded blanket and what looks like-

Your head whips back at her. “Chinese takeout?”

Sevika still stands by the door threshold, balancing her weight against it as she rests her hands in her pockets. “Your favorite.” A small smile falls upon her lips.

You don’t know what to say. Thankfully, she continues talking. “I don’t have a TV though. So we’ll have to do without one of your romcoms.” She motions her head behind you. “I hope the window is enough entertainment.”

You laugh and make your way towards the couch. “This is perfect.”

Today is perfect.

She is perfect.

But the feelings are too powerful for you to allow yourself to linger on them. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch, opening up the takeout bag and retrieving  one of the containers. You’re well aware of Sevika’s presence–the waft of her cologne and muted thuds of her boots. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her grab the takeout bag, sitting down in place of it before placing the bag on a coffee table that's a foot away. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, mouth full of egg fried rice and skin buzzing. If you were to scoot father right, your leg would press against hers. 

But you don’t.

A few beats pass before, “Is everything okay?” She mutters. Her voice is low.

That’s when you force your head to lift, meeting her eyes for a fews seconds. She remains calm. Steady. Her expression is clear–gaze never leaving you. 

“You’ve been distant for a little while now,” She pauses, lips parting. You can tell she’s thinking deeply about what to say and how to say it. “...For the last week or so. And I just want to make sure it’s not because of anything I’ve done or–”

“No.” Your eyes are widening. “You haven’t done anything at all. You’ve been good to me, Sev.” Blinking rapidly, you refocus back on the food in front of you. “I have no complaints. I’m happy with you.”

Hesitation. Then, “Are you sure?” 

And when you catch wind of her face again, you notice that she’s sporting an expression of genuine curiosity. A hint of quiet longing also seems to be staring back at you, and it’s apparent that she's truly–completely–surprised. Have you not been obvious about how much you care for her? Is there really a chance that she thinks differently?

A wave of courage greets you and you decide, right then, that you have to stop denying yourself.

You deserve to take a hold of this–to firmly grasp this time with her–no matter how badly you want to listen to the fear that is nagging in the back of your mind.

You deserve to let yourself fully enjoy this–to fully enjoy her.

And she deserves that too.

“I love you,” You say it as faithfully as you can, because damned if you don’t surely sounds worse than damned if you do. Your hands are shaking, but you don’t allow yourself to think twice because you’ve already said it. You can’t take it back. “God, I love you.” It’s becoming harder to see her. Your line of vision is blurry and your throat hurts. “Sorry I-” You swallow deeply. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, or even if I should. I don’t want to scare you off. I know it’s soon and we’re still trying to figure this out but…” You’re at a loss for words, shrugging as you try to contemplate what else to say.

She grabs your hands, tugging you towards her. 

“I…” The sound of her exhaling softly is all you can hear. She tries to speak again, “You…” But her voice trails off again.

“I know you’ve expressed to me how you feel and I know this is a lot considering your divorce, then Monica and now me. I want to be with you and I want to give you everything I can, even if that includes taking things slow.” You wet your lips and that’s when you taste tears. You’re crying. “Whatever you need...I’ll be that. I don’t mind. I’ve just been trying to process it all. How I feel for you–it only seems to grow stronger each day. My love for you…” You shake your head, trying to recollect yourself. “...Becoming distant…Making you worry–that wasn’t what I intended.” 

She lets go of your hands. Air leaves your lungs when you feel her coming closer…closer…closer. Her mouth is hot, pressing against yours without any hesitation. That feeling alone makes your muscles turn to mush. But then she deepens it, leaning further into you as if none of this is enough. The urgency she exudes, combined with the swiftness of her tongue, makes you feel as if you’re running out of time….like kissing you is the most dire thing she could be doing right now. 

She wraps her arms around you completely and you allow your body to relax. 

All you can think about is her. Her lips and her taste and her smell and her hair.

All you can think about is how much you loved her when you were inside of her last night, and how much you loved her when her arms were wrapped around you this morning. How much you loved her even when the two of you bickered over the broken tea kettle last week, and how much you still love her right now. 

And that love, you're completely sure, will just keep growing and growing and growing…

You need her, in every aspect. You believe that you’ll always need her.

The tip of her nose brushes your cheek, then grazes against it when she tilts her head in the opposite direction. You feel yourself arching when her hands slide to the small of your back. Your fingers dig into her hair and tug at her scalp. Her quiet hum of satisfaction falls directly into your mouth, chest pressed against yours, body sliding in between your legs.

The salt of your tears fall onto your tongue, but she doesn't seem to mind. When she pulls away, gasping for air, her arms tighten around you even more. Her lips are swollen, eyes misting over as they stare back at you, and forehead merely inches from yours, “Don't you get it?” She whispers. “I'm yours,” Her voice strains with desperation. “You could never scare me away by telling me this. Ever.” 

“And if it isn’t obvious already,” She adds, nose brushing against your cheek. She leaves a trail of her burning touch as she inhales deeply; breathing you in. Your eyes flutter shut and the feeling of her lips pressing against your neck causes your breath to hitch. “I love,” And she pulls away to kiss your other side, “Love,” You shiver when she practically drags her face against yours before halting your anticipation with a tender peck against your lips. “...Love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

And you’re kissing her again, still needing more, but this time allowing yourself to have it. At this point, you’re pretty sure cartoon birds are circling above your head. You’ve never felt so blissed out and completely flustered at the same time. This moment is full of mirth, and promises, and undeniable love.

This is what it means to be alive.

Sevika is smiling now, laughing when you press into her for more, more, more. You’ll always want more of her and more of everything with her. 

“Take me home?” You whisper.

She’s laughing again, eyes misting over, but doesn't miss a beat standing up.

She understands. She feels it too.

Grabbing your hand, she manages to collect the food and her keys in one sweep. “Okay,” She answers, seemingly happy to grant you such a wish.

With your chest aching something fierce, you follow her without question. 

You love her.

And she loves you back.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and spend your morning eating toast and drinking tea, loving each other just the same. 

There’ll be days where you two will hang photos that haven’t been taken yet, loving each other just the same.

You’ll spend more dinners together, more holidays, and weekends and years–loving each other just the same. 

Your new life, the one you have been so afraid to accept ever since Mel moved out, is waiting for you with the door wide open.

Now is when you decide to take the leap forward, hand in hand with Sevika; promising yourself that you’ll never look back. 

[mxtantrights]

how does dick grayson act when hes jealous 😋😋

a/n: thank you for sending this in anon!! I can't tell you how much I love you for it. this was really fun !!!! <3333

Dick Grayson doesn't get jealous. Or so you think. It's just that-he''s Dick Grayson. What would he have to be jealous about? He's got a great smile, a flirty personality, a nice ass, people flock to him with the bat of his eyelashes.

So sitting across your date for the night, you didn't expect to see Dick Grayson just a few feet in front of you at the bar. He didn't exactly make himself discreet either. He's turned right to you, eyeing you up.

You look back to your date.

"Do you think this date is going well?" you ask straight up.

They look at you, a bit flabbergasted at the brutal honesty of your question.

"I mean, I would say it's going to my liking. Wha-how is it going for you?" they ask.

You smile and shrug, "It's going well. It was."

"Was?" they ask.

Dick Grayson grabs his drink and downs it. Its chilling to see. Chilling and also hot. You didn't think he was the type. The knock 'em back because I'm Jealous type. The jealous type.

"Yeah, because I've got a feeling that we won't be seeing each other again." you answer.

"Wait is this some new tactic to let me down? If so you can just tell me. I can take it." they reply.

You shake your head, "Its not a tactic, but there's this guy I'm also seeing. He just walked in."

"Ah, so I lost out." your date says.

You look at them. If you hadn't met Dick Grayson this date would be going exceptionally well. You'd be laughing, having fun, not worrying about some other guy who has your attention.

You originally didn't think about this date as a date.

It wasn't until you woke up last weekend and got a text from an unknown number. One of your friends had sent you your date's number and picture thinking you would be interesting.

Not knowing that you were wrapped up in the sheets with Dick. Who, also happened to the message. And that fueled another round with him that was exciting and passionate. All for him to say that you should go on that date, ya know since the two of you weren't official.

His words.

You weren't necessarily trying to make him regret his words. You were trying to bend yourself to them actually. Because he was right, you aren't official.

But Dick Grayson sitting at the bar a few feet from your date? That wasn't casual.

"But be honest, did I really charm you enough for a date or was there another reason?" you ask them.

They sit back in their chair with a sad smile on their face.

"You caught me. Yeah. This would be my first date after a long relationship." they answer.

"You could always say it was good. Because it was. I'm just not..." you trail off.

"not available." they finish off the sentence for you.

"Yeah." you answer simply.

"That's okay. I can pay for the bill and we can just end it here." they say.

They hail down the waiter and ask for the bill. But somehow, your bill has been paid. Your eyes dart back to Dick at the bar. He raises his glass towards you.

"Wow, I guess this is some sort of lucky / unlucky date." they joke.

You laugh at that. And then your date gets up from their seat, and bids you goodbye. You say the same and sit back in your chair. Waiting for the inevitable.

You reach into your bag for your lipgloss. As you grab it and take it out, you don't pay attention to the sound of the chair in front of you moving. You reapply your lipgloss.

"Fun date?" a voice asks.

You look across from you. Dick.

"yeah. you having a nice night?" you ask him.

Dick grins and takes a swig of his drink. It's almost down to the bottom. You can't tell if he got another one before he left the bar or not.

"Not really no. I pushed the one person that makes me happy into something because I got scared." he admits.

"Scared of what?" you ask.

"Scared of happiness. I realized how happy you made me and I didn't want to ruin it, but I ruined it anyways. I'm so so sorry for doing that to you." he explains.

You nod your head.

"So I'm so irresistibly charming and I make you so happy that you crashed my date, paid the bill, and apologized for the whole thing?" you least lightly.

Dick shakes his head, "I shouldn't get your forgiveness. I mean I deserve to be put on time-out or put in a corner."

"You're a grown man, Dick. I'm not about to do that to you. I just want you to know what you want." you say.

"I want you." he says effortlessly.

You smile, "Good. Because I'm not seeing anyone else."

"I haven't see anyone else since we first kissed." Dick admits.

[morphids]

hi!! i just recently found your blog and i love all your hange work 🥲❤️ i was wondering if you could make a fic about detective!hange x vampire!reader ! i thought it could be like season 4 hange where they kinda lost their spark due to the stress of being commander but in this different AU and they gain it back after meeting Y/N. like there’s been many deaths being deaths being reported and hange was spending night after night trying to figure out who this ‘serial killer’ is, only to find out that it’s a vampire! this peaks hange’s interest how they build a relationship is up to you coz i’m not sure but ngl i feel like hange would offer Y/N to suck some blood from their neck for… research purposes and then lowkey be into it and then go into some smut maybe hehe

taste of copper, hange zoë

hey so…? this request eats i’m so excited!! thank u for requesting this <3 hope it’s to ur liking!!

summary: nb detective!hange zoe x vampire!reader, afab bodies!

warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni!!! explicit sexual content, poc friendly!! mentions of death/dead bodies, murder, blood (it is a vamp fic), um kinky stuff icl, blood kink, tbh hange is p canon i feel like they’d acc be into vampires fr, hange is kidnapped and tied up (sry that ep gave me brain damage) but they’re into it, vamp sex, SUB!HANGE RETURNS, age gap—r is like at least 90 lmao, hange is around late-30s (hot), restraints, fingering, munching, slight degradation, more blood!!

psa— pls don’t fuck cops irl guys, just don’t

wc: …14k … once again i have nothing to say for myself lmao

In the peak of winter, the cold had set over the local town, chilling everything within it. Plants had frosted over, grass was frozen solid and the sun seldom shone.

Hange was Chief Detective, an expert within their field. Had accomplished several degrees in a multitude of disciplines; biochemistry, criminology and law. A jack of all trades, master of all, so to speak. An intellectual prodigy.

The last few years had been slow, crime rates had lowered exceptionally. Logically, Hange knew this was a good thing, it meant that they had been doing their job incredibly successfully. But... it also means that they've been very bored, disillusioned—borderline out of a job. Their days started to merge together, the monotony of mundane tasks repeating themselves everyday left no space for the mind to expand and grow. Hange was bored, the spark they had for their field diminishing with each passing day.

It's hard to be a detective in a low crime zone. The force has been dealing with a lot of ennui lately. Again—it's not a bad thing, in reality. It's just that Hange hates being stuck with nothing to do, and resents being idle, simply forced to twiddle their thumbs.

That is, until a field of bodies starts showing up. Popped up scattered in different parts of the woods. Corpses cold, grey and drained of all of their blood. Completely exsanguinated.

"Heh—reminds me of the ol' chupacabra legends," said one of the interns, rather insensitively, before being hushed by his superiors. Reminded and reprimanded to take the job seriously.

It is curious, though. Corpses left with no visible injuries, except from two puncture wounds in varying parts of the body. No pattern to the location of drainage points, the only consistency being the total drainage.

It had been going on for a few weeks, with one body found hidden in the forest each week. Hange feels a little guilty at how much they begin to relish the thrill of an active investigation again.

Hell, even their coworkers notice. In the mornings, whilst everyone is settling into their desks, Hange hears: "Detective, you're looking well!" and "Glad to see you're feeling like yourself again, Hange!"

It's almost embarrassing, that everyone on the squad can see how much they're thriving with the new caseload. An almost unseemly sentiment within law enforcement. They just can't help it, their brain is working, synapses finally flying to work after being useless for so long as they try to get to the bottom of the new case. Even though there was minimal evidence to work with.

Meanwhile, you had moved into town a few months back. You'd wanted to blend in with human society first, get your bearings within a new location before bodies began dropping as soon as a new person moved in the area.

Being a vampire, it was easy enough to gather fake documents proving your legitimacy—false passports, IDs and new bank accounts in a rotation every couple of years. It was easy enough to compel high rank officials into signing, stamping and creating legal documents for you.

When you first moved, you were disappointed that there were no others of your species living there. Odd considering most towns have at least two residential vampires. Yet the lack of decay and death in the air tells you that you are the only one to reside there. A shame, really, you'd hoped for there to be at least one—other vampires are more fun to fraternize with, easier to band community with than humans.

So you wait, bide your time, feeding on squirrels and wild wolves to get you through for a few months until your body can't survive on it any longer. Animal blood keeps you going, sure, but it lacks the nutrition you need from humans—lacks the taste, too, frankly. Tastes like unseasoned meat that was left to boil in dull water.

You can feel your body growing frail, the muscles in your limbs chewing on themselves. The strength in your body was growing more feeble by the minute, your speed lessening. Icy skin started to feel parched and your stomach constantly feels empty. It's not good enough, you need real food.

So, you begin observing the town. Watch the residents from afar and pick out victims that would be a good source of energy and life. The limitations are already high enough, illness and disease in humans weakens their blood, isn't nutritious and takes like burnt, soiled metal on your tongue. You need healthy, hearty blood.

Preferably, they'd have little to no living family members, fewer people to miss them. Maybe they're lonely and live on their own, maybe they're a regular menace in the town—people who simply aren't going to be missed as much. Anything to prolong the bodies being reported missing and found.

So you gather your intel, and people-watch until you find that perfect person to keep your body going until the next week. Then you'd bring them to the woods, cast your enticing 'spells', enchanting voice and charming eye contact to lure them in. You weren't above using seduction as a feeding tactic. Plus, it helps that vampires have a certain allure that humans find desirable.

The sweet whispers of your voice and the elfin connection of your eyes lure them into a sense of security. The calm that encompasses them grants you time for the spell to kick in until they become a shell of their body. Following your commands, wishing to do anything to please you—pliable. It was just so easy.

Subsequently, it isn't difficult to take them. Almost unbelievable how eagerly they follow you in the darkest depths of the forest, hidden away from street lamps and passing car headlights. Not even the moonlight can penetrate through the thickness of the tree branches, nor a sliver of illumination bounce on the ground through gaps in the leaves.

It's your most perfect spot, you were quite proud of it.

There, you suck them dry. Sink your sharpened incisors into them, calming them down as you drink every last drop they have to offer. Then, once their soul has left their body, once the light has left their eyes, you plant them in different spots. A body hidden under a bed of dead, fallen leaves every week. You had the sequence down to a perfection. You'd try to be as humane as possible, but ultimately humans are just a source of food. The circle of life and all.

You've been doing this for over seventy years. A list of principles and rules had been the mode of operating you followed over the years to keep yourself safe and secure. You don't befriend humans, don't interact with them unless you have to, and you definitely don't fall in love with them. It was a lesson you had learned the hard way a few decades past. Betrayal freezing your heart and halting any attempts of connection.

Leaving behind physical evidence is no concern, the dead circulation from your heart has left you with a lack of fingerprints, a lack of dead, shedding skin cells —things human killers have to worry about, you didn't. Your body is almost in a state of perpetual permafrost, the coldness in your veins preserves your skin. It'd retained its look from the point at which you were turned. The hair on your scalp doesn't grow anymore, and neither do your nails. Stagnancy meant that you took pride in maintaining the length and lusciousness you'd carried when you were still a human, yourself. It helps you feed, after all.

It doesn't mean you didn't have to be careful about other things, though. You had to ensure you didn't make stupid mistakes, even without any physical biological evidence. You may be able to outrun humans, and it's easy enough to kill someone who'd dare to catch you, at a time—but no one could fight against an armed horde ambush if they were overpowered. Stranger things have happened than a vampire getting imprisoned. So you were careful. You didn't want the headache, too high a risk of any potential loose ends ruining your flow of life.

You've done this shit for about seventy years, so how the fuck could you have fucked up, now?

—

Hange is a damned, good detective. Their concentration is aided by the hypnosis of their own hyperfocus, the honed tunnel vision when they're on a case. Countless sleepless nights and a peculiar way of thinking. Hange truly is the very best of the very best, having solved every single case they'd ever been assigned to.

Working on cases back in their more youthful days used to breathe life into them, back when technology wasn't such a huge aspect of catching a criminal. When serial killers weren't as careful about being caught by someone's domestic CCTV. Back when autopsies weren't helped by technological, medical advancements, there had been a lot more murders then. A crazy amount of crime, here, there, and just about everywhere. Nowadays, cases are minimal, the ones that occurred were easily an open-shut case, solved almost instantly.

Which is why their giddiness was now returning to them. At first glance, no one on the force knows how to go about solving this, people working under Hange have no idea where to even begin looking. No viable evidence means there's no plausible cause to question suspects which they don't even have.

The furthest Hange got was extracting lingering traces of an unidentified chemical from the puncture points of every victim— one that Hange concluded was used to knock out and sedate the victims.

The chemical compounds were closely similar to that of the synthetic drug, Ketamine, it just wasn't related enough to be properly classified under that. Plus, the traces found on the punctures were so small, and naturally altered. It was more distinctly relative to that of bat venom, but with a distinctive non-animal chemical formation—it's unlike anything they have ever seen before.

At least, though, it cemented that this was a series of planned serial murders, not a case of multiple, unfortunate animal attacks. Someone must've developed a new drug and have been experimenting it on the locals, Hange hoped there was lead here. Ultimately, though, nothing came of it, no other traces of this unidentified substance had been found.

One night, Hange is working late at the lab, their squad had been sent home to rest for the night. Hange stayed behind, as they usually did, to keep investigating. Looking over the very same evidence they had since the beginning and getting no more results.

It's itching at Hange, this has to be the work of one person, an individual who is careful about covering their tracks, someone who is almost untraceable. Someone smart, they thought, the DNA from the killer in the punctures is simply just.. not there, like it'd vanished, and all that remains is the fleeting chemical traces.

Hange gets a hunch, that the bodies had no more evidence to discover but perhaps the clothes the victims were wearing might? All of that stuff had been sealed away in the evidence locker but no one had looked it over, too busy focusing on the bodies themselves.

On a newfound mission, Hange grabs all of the locked-up clothing from the lockers, deciding to investigate it with the hopes that there was something potentially missed during the first scans.

Lo and behold, after careful examination, there it was. So minute, it was almost missed, almost. Smushed along the cotton sleeve of the most recent victim's jacket, was plant residue. Hange swallowed their growing animation, a less than respectable way to behave.

It isn't much, but they'd take any potential lead they could get.

Deciding to extract the residue, Hange realised they were not going home to rest anytime soon—this was far more important. With the ticking of the wall clock behind them, it prompted Hange to place some of the extracts between two sterile plates of thin glass. Ready for examination under the microscope. With it being so early in the a.m, the toxicology lab had long closed, forcing Hange to look into it themself—which is fine, they tended to work faster when they're left to their own devices.

After a few rather extensive screens and tests, Hange managed to come to the conclusion that this particular plant is toxic, its oils and compounds are consistent with that of black spider lilies. A plant that is not geographically native to this area, and extremely odd that traces of it would even be found around here.

But, looking back... Hange swears that they've seen black spider lilies recently, definitely somewhere close and local, particularly on the windowsill of one specific house. A house that had been deemed uninhabitable a few years ago, had something to do with asbestos trapped within the ceiling and roof. It'd been reported unusable and was left to rot.

It should've raised some flags then, when once Hange was driving on their commute to work and suddenly that house was now back in use. Someone residing there had decorated the outside and the lights were now on. The old, unsanctioned house looked pretty again, refurbished. Hange had just assumed someone bought the place and its problems had been fixed, thought nothing more of it. But now? Things were starting to look good for the investigation.

Absolutely nowhere else had Hange seen this type of flower, certainly nowhere in this town. It's definitely a lead, they thought, something stirring in their gut, intuitive that this was something important.

At the developments, Hange began laughing to themself, almost manically. The thrill of the chase rushed through their veins.

I've got you.

By the time they had finished the tests and tidied the lab, it was already around three in the morning. Perhaps, they should've waited until the first crack of morning, but being the chief detective and having no other reasonable person in the office to warn them against it, Hange got impulsive. They wanted to at least check out the house and its residents tonight.

Maybe they should've even left a note, of what they found and who the new prime suspect is, in the case of anything going awry. Did they? Of course not! Caution was thrown to the wind, logical reasoning overpassed by their giddy excitement with each passing second.

Eagerness clearly too strong a force to fight, as Hange raced to put on their long trench coat, unlock their parked car and drove to the location.

There the flowers were, clear as day, or night, really. Perfectly cultivated and well-maintained black spider lilies, standing tall and sturdy in their vases. Beautiful plants, honestly, but oh, so incriminating. Hange couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from their lips.

Oh, I've so got you.

Perhaps a little silly of them, caught up in their own little wave, Hange ended up jumping the gun. Unlocking the car door to stand between where it connected to the body of the vehicle. An arm perched over the roof of the car as they watched. They did try to be discreet, and hadn't shut the car door with the hopes that the residence wouldn't be disturbed and catch on that they were being watched by a mere door slam.

However, you had heard the purr of a car engine long before it even reached your street, it was a loud bang within your well-attuned sonic ears against the otherwise silent serenity of the night. You had heard the click of the car door opening, followed by a light, low chuckle.

You knew you were being watched before they even began watching you.

Silently, you made your way out your back door, remaining unseen the whole time. Your movements were so quick, that no human eye was able to possibly detect even a mere shadow with the inhuman swiftness of which you moved, placing yourself behind your observer.

Biting back a laugh from behind them, you looked over their body language. This person is clearly a cop, their loud attire told you that enough, a white dress shirt finished with a tie and brown slacks underneath a trench coat. There was a subtle bump underneath their coat indicating the gun holster that was snugly hidden against their torso. A smarter cop than most, if they found you, that's for sure. But not smart enough to think to stay within the safe confines of the car, or to bring a partner along with them.

Honestly, you had expected a cop to have better survival instincts. They hadn't even noticed your looming presence behind them, predatory and proud as you smirked to yourself. Taking the opportunity to observe them whilst they thought they were one step ahead, sneakily observing you, instead.

But, fuck, if their scent wasn't divine, the exhilaration touring through their veins filled your nose. Their ample zeal emanates from their body like a radiative aura. The pumping major vein in their neck pounded just decadently against their skin; its throbbing was so minute only your enhanced eyes could sense it. The keen adrenaline in their blood makes it all the more irresistible.

Blood laced with fear is delicious, but blood laced with excitement? God, it's simply heavenly, nectarous. This is strong, healthy blood, the aroma of warm, honeyed copper pumping down their nerves was dizzying, fuck.

"What exactly are you doing?" your voice broke through the silence like honey, soft against the harsh thumps of heartbeat in Hange's ears. The detective almost jumped out of their skin, the excitement in their blood swished with the newfound fear of being caught. They turned to face you slowly, eyes wide and lips agape, confused by how someone managed to creep up behind them without Hange even noticing. Just how was that possible? They were trained for shit like this.

"I..uh... I'm patrolling the area, ma'am." "Oh yeah? You just look like someone creeping through windows from here."

Truthfully, you liked to play with your food.

The detective flushed, only realising how this could look to a passing pedestrian, but what could they possibly say? Sorry, I'm pursuing an active investigation into a potential neighbour of yours? This begged the question, who even are you and why are you out on the streets at this hour? Hange's head began whirling, a peculiar headache began to ache in their skull. The dull pain was followed by a dizzying, thick sensation in their body, making them flustered.

"Oh, um..." Hange cleared their throat, trying to ignore the growing sensation, "Police business, ma'am, I'm afraid I can't disclose that information."

Oh?

"Well, perhaps you should show me your badge? Seeing as you just look like someone's stalker to me."

Hange swallowed, they'd never seen you before, not in town or any grocery store, nothing. They would've remembered someone who carried themselves the way you did, almost regal in nature, refined and... enticing? Hange's senses were growing lulled, more compliant. Usually, they'd have argued more, hesitant to whip their badge out. Normally, they would be more alert and able to notice the explicit trap. Right now, though, their hand easily slipped into the coat's inside pocket, limbs moving on their own accord as their badge was brought out into the cold air of the night.

Pleased, you smiled to yourself, watching the glaze over their eyes. It was one of your favourite parts in these moments. Watching as their body becomes not their own momentarily until you deem it necessary and let them return to their own senses. You just loved how pathetically pliant they all get, how easily influenced their little minds are until you say so. So easy to compel them to your every command.

The detective slipped the badge into your hand, you didn't even bother to look at it whilst you whispered, "And your gun, too, love."

The words hung like a poison, Hange wasn't in their right mind to decline you, hand slipping into their black holster as they pulled out the sleek, metal weapon. When it was safely in your hand, you smiled sweetly—it's not like the gun could kill you, but gunshots make one hell of a noise. It's smarter to avoid violent confrontation as much as you can, you don't want any more cops sniffing around.

"That's it."

Just like that, within a second Hange was back in their head, their half-lidded eyes reverting back to their regular alertness.

"I—uh," and there was the confusion, it's normal that once the 'spell'is lifted, humans feel a little disoriented, dazed and confused.

"It's alright, dear, just come with me."

—

Hange doesn't remember any of it; the last they recall is parking up and evaluating the suspect house from their car. Their heart began anxiously thumping as they awoke in a dimly lit, lavish bedroom, adorned with lush green velvet fabrics on the curtains. Rich, deep hues of purple coating the walls and lavish textiles on the textured rugs.

The detective's wrists were trapped behind their back, bound tightly with a silky red scarf. It felt plush and tender against their skin, a sharp contrast to the violent, threatening nature of their binds. Hange grunted, and tried to shout behind the gag over their mouth. Jaw slackened as another silk scarf tied around their mouth pressed their tongue to silence, ensuring that any words and shouts would be futile.

Hange thrashed against their binds, panic seeping through their chest whilst dread overtook their features. The scarf began to dig into their wrists, tight and snug against futile movements. Circulation beneath their wrists started to cease. Their chest was heaving, breaths were heavy, and their eyes glanced around the room, checking the surroundings.

Just what the hell happened?

Grunting against the gag, Hange's eyebrows furrowed. Their thrashes increased once they noticed you sat in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, arms crossed over your stomach with an amused expression plastered on your face.

"I'll remove the gags if you promise to keep quiet."

Hange shuddered in their restraints, what kind of situation did they get themself into? More grunts followed, muffled by the silk stuffed over their tongue as you tutted, shaking your head with minor disappointment.

"Looks like it's staying on."

You stood, powerful and confident in your ethereal elegance as you slowly strut over to their keeled body. Pathetically bound to an exposed metal pipe by an extra length of fabric as it crossed over the silk. With each step getting closer, Hange's blood flowed more furiously, stiffened gaze stuck on you.

The clothes covering your body were dark, there was a black, corseted bell-sleeved top that hung off your shoulders exposing the shadows of your collarbone. A matching, long skirt flowed with your movements. A short golden necklace choked over your neck, with a longer pendant chain trailing down to the valley of your breasts. The warmth of the soft gold emphasised the glow in your skin, radiant and sleek. The pupils in your eyes were dark and coaxing, an almost unhinged tilt in the corner of your lips. Exquisite, in a spine-chilling way.

"You got so close, pity you were so stupid about it."

Hange shook their head at you, wide-eyed and pleading as you leaned over them. Your fingers teased at the hem of fabric covering their mouth, taunting a chance that you'd remove it. The detective stilled, eyes boring into your own defiantly as they swallowed down your words. The confession was pretty much meaningless if they were just about to die in a few minutes. Utterly pointless if it was taken to the grave with them.

"I'd love to know what led you here," you hummed, fingers digging underneath the silk, "How you managed to narrow it down."

At Hange's lack of movement, the threat of noise was stuck in their throat.

"You gonna be quiet for me, love?"

Hange's eyes glimmered with apprehension, it was seeping from their veins, the blood mixing with something else as it pulled towards your nose delightfully. The detective sighed, nodding with unbroken eye contact. Looks like they were braver than most, too. You smiled, tinted dark lips seemed nearly courteous and demure juxtaposing the whole situation, it was almost sweet.

"Perfect."

Fingers trailed between the silk, grazing Hange's warm cheeks so you could drag it down. It had been dampened by their saliva, stuck in their mouth for the length of time it was. You let it hang around their chin, a chilling reminder that you could prop it back up at any given moment.

"So?" You implored.

Hange clamoured, was it smart to attempt a threat or should they just give you what you want? What would keep them alive longer, before their colleagues found them dead in the woods, inexplicably drained of all their blood?

After a beat, Hange responded, "I, uh, I found residue of your plants... you're the only one that has those around here." Your eyebrows rose, astounded that you'd even left a trace, and a foolish one to boot. Never in your seventy years had you made such a laughable mistake. You were losing your finesse. Flower residue? That's a new one. Though, it's not like it matters much, you suppose, in the grand scheme of things. The longest possible life sentence had already been thrust upon you over seventy years ago. At the end of the twentieth year of your human life.

"I see, then I'll just have to be more careful next time," 

The apparent arrogance in your tone irritated Hange, the ludicrous confidence that you simply wouldn't get caught was stupefying and they couldn't prevent themself from interrupting. "There won't be a next time, I'm gonna arrest you and you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your sick life."

Then you merely laughed, a laugh so eerie and haunting, so inappropriate in its context. Their threat seemingly rolled off your back. "Oh, sweetheart, that's utterly brave of you." you sighed, beaming down at the detective, the words taunting, "How could you possibly arrest me when you're stuck right here?"

Hange's chest sunk, heart pacing around in its ribcage at the brutal reality of your words, they were powerless right now, completely at your mercy. Heck, no one in their squad even knew Hange was here.

"I..." "Has it sunk in yet? The fact that you're going to die here and no one will know?

"Shame, too," you hummed, "You're a very good-looking one, Hange, what a waste."

A gulp was swallowed down, unnerved by your haunting words. You knew their name and it slipped from your tongue so easily, like a hunter naming their trophy catch before shooting the animal between its eyes.

"You stole my badge?" Hange muttered, their eyes sinking. The question hung in the air, answered only by a low chuckle and nothing else. The question of the matter was still itching at Hange, though, the nature of the killings still unknown. If they were going to die, anyway, they at least wanted to know the truth of how those people died.

"...How do you do it?" The expression on your face slacked, looking down at them. They were peering up at you with a determined stare, the eager glint in their brown eyes wasn't estranged from their features. Eyes questioning and dead-set on knowing. Their inquisitive spirit was transparent to you, made painfully prominent. "If I tell you that, then I'd really have to kill you,"

"Aren't you, already, anyway?" Your composure faltered a little, frankly, this was a little messy, not aligning with how you normally liked to carry things through. Didn't follow your usual mode of operating, too many loose ends, I mean, they were in your house. You kill them and who's to say their squad doesn't follow the same leads and end up right here, too? Life imprisonment is a little murky when you're immortal. With no access to blood you'd soon perish, they'd find you as a pile of ashes on the ground of a cold cell.

Sure, you could escape and run away, start a new life and begin again, but you'd just gotten comfortable here. It's just another headache to start anew somewhere else, you liked this little house. A single build with a nice lawn, you'd refurbished it and fixed it up, even planted flowers for god's sake!

"It's not an ideal situation, I must admit."

Hange picked up on your hesitance, years on the field made it easy to pick out subtle changes in one's body language and tones. They looked at you, perplexed, their wide doe eyes gaping, you found it endearing, almost charming. The sweetness of their pumping blood was throwing you off, disarraying your head. How the tables turn, I guess.

"You really want to know?" Hange stilled, morbid curiosity eating at them, but they nodded firmly. There returned that determination, again, tugging at you. "..I eat until they drop."

The words from your lips came out with a solemn chuckle attached to an almost weary sigh. You never asked for this. Amidst Hange's horror, they could catch an almost pitiful sparkle in your eyes, their lips split open as they breathed out, "You...what?" There was a slump of their shoulders, finally breaking their gaze away from you and to the floor, "What the fuck does that mean?"

You sank back into your armchair, a red cushioned velvet, "I feed on them," you soughed, "Until there's nothing left." Hange was stirring, you couldn't possibly be saying what they think you were saying. Suddenly, the chupacabra joke from their colleague was no longer a joke. He had hit the nail right on the head. Their heart rate hiked up, you could feel it throbbing from within their veins, booming against your own ears.

"I... don't understand, that sounds like..." Hange couldn't even finish the sentence, it sounded too absurd to even be uttered. Vampires? Existing and roaming? What kind of Dracula sh—

"It is." You confirmed, Hange would've laughed at your trick if it hadn't been so confusing, except they did start laughing - the kind of nervous laughter one pulls out from their chest when they're scared. Shorter gasps mingled along with it, their body actively trying to neutralise a potential panic attack with a different physical respiratory response, especially since you weren't laughing along with them. The stony, faraway stare showed that you meant it.

The exsanguinated bodies, the delicate puncture holes, it all just made too much sense for something that just isn't supposed to make sense. "You're...not—that's not—vamp—they're..not real." You stood, striding over to the breathless detective folded on your wooden flooring. Your eyes met and their breathing simmered, equalising until they were completely calm. Hange drew out the remaining gasp as they caught their breath again. You didn't disorient them this time, you didn't want to.

"I'm afraid so, love, we're very real," "How did you do that?" Hange muttered, baffled by the manner in which you had ceased the onset of a panic attack, with just a glance. They blinked up at you, lashes fluttering behind a layer of thin glasses. Really, they are very pretty.

"Same way I got you to give me your badge and gun—the same way I got your ID and learned your name." "What? You can control minds, too?" "I guess, something like that."

Hange just nodded, you could see the literal cogs turning within their head. Their countenance switched from bewilderment to vague acceptance, then back to confusion. "Well, don't do it again—I don't like someone being in my head."

Your eyebrows tilted up with amusement, that wasn't a response you had anticipated. "That's very demanding, Hange." The detective gave you a look of shock.

"I just found out that va—vampires, exist, okay? Give me some slack." After a few seconds of self-deliberation, they spoke again, "Y-you said we? There's more?" Nodding, you answered, "You have to be turned, can't exactly get turned without somebody else," Hange's expression was undecided, "Think of it like a curse, a lifelong punishment."

Hange sensed resentment, there. An air of hopelessness. You don't even know why you're telling them all of this—maybe years of solitude left you lonely, craving a listening ear. Even if you do have to kill them by the end of it.

"Immortality? A curse?" Their eyes met yours again, searching within them for answers. They were intrigued, to say the least. I mean, years of multiple degrees and doctorates and Hange had been none the wiser to vampires? Of all things? You can't exactly blame them for needing more answers.

"Most of us didn't choose this for ourselves," sighing, you broke eye contact, "We just have to live with it, outliving all your loved ones—forced to drink or perish. Those are your only options." Hange sat absorbing your words, their entire world had been tilted upside down. Yet, they couldn't help but feel a little bad for you, for the subtle wave of melancholy in your tone. Hange didn't quite know what to make of this whole thing.

"So..you do need blood to live?" "I tried to live on animal blood, okay, but... it's not the same. It's like eating a bag of air—doesn't give me what I need." "Like eating junk food?" Hange questioned, "Instead of a real meal?"

The almost innocent comparison made you chuckle, a slight lift at the corner of your lips, "I suppose." Hange let out a gentle, huh, before looking back down. Could they really charge a supernatural being with a crime? But there were still victims, you still killed them, and that couldn't just be ignored.

Hange pulled at their restraints, neck turning to glance at your handiwork, it was impressive—pretty. They looked back towards you, "C-can you take these off?"

Your face hardened into a scowl, eyes narrowing. "I can't do that."

"You planning on keeping me here forever?" "Until I figure out what to do with you, yes." "I promise, I won't say anything."

"Please," you sneered, "Your promise will mean nothing the second I let you go." Hange sighed, "I mean it, you have my word." "That right, love? And what will you tell your fellow detectives?"

Hange blanched, "I-I don't know. We can close the case as cold—leave it as it is, as long as you don't drain anyone else." "I have to eat, Hange." "I know, which is why I won't say anything."

Your fingers came to rub at your forehead, "And how do you propose I eat, then?"

"Do you need to kill when you...feed?" "Not exactly—it's just easier so they don't go running and tell everyone. The compulsion doesn't work for an infinite amount of time—it runs out." Hange nodded, looking around the room in deep thought.

"Then, feed on me."

Shock choked your throat, what? You gaped at Hange from your chair, are they crazy? "You cannot be serious.." Hange shrugged, "It's a mutually beneficial agreement—I stay alive and learn all about this new world 'n you get to stay...well fed."

"And bodies stop dropping like flies.." Hange muttered, at a lower volume. You still caught it, of course. Were they proposing to self-sacrifice their own blood so no one else died? Hange almost laughed at your expression, wordless.

A human offering themselves up? You didn't ever think one would do that. It wasn't unheard of, other vampires had shared plenty of stories with you about their favourite humans—you had just decided, a long time ago, to maintain a healthy distance. However, the detective made an interesting offer and you're certain their blood would sate you for a while, with how loudly it's drumming against their neck. How divine would it taste? As enriching and decadent as you think?

"If it helps—I'm thinking of it as research," Hange explained, a crooked smile hanging on their lips, "All totally off the record—by the way."

Yeah, they definitely are crazy, you thought. Looking them over, in your years you had gotten pretty good at sniffing out lies, but there was thoroughly not a hint of it on Hange. No, it was even worse. That sincere excitement that fuelled their blood earlier had returned, replacing the previous fear. Groaning internally, you knew that they were offering a taste of what would probably be the most incredible bite of your life, right on a silver platter.

"My only rule is none of that creepy mind control shit—freaked me out."

With every new word out of their mouth, you grew additionally stunned. Never in your life had you expected this from a human. A crazy human, sure, but still? Hange seemed to have accepted the situation with basically abnormal ease and made their peace with the new information about the world. Almost lost their shit at the beginning, but you could sense their curiosity. It was outweighing their fear. By a long mile. Hell, they were even demanding shit from you—no one has even endeavoured to try that for decades.

Their blood thumped succulently, fear had long dissipated, replaced only by that delectable zeal. It was tough to decline their offer, honestly. Your mouth watered at the thought of tasting them, and you were hungry. The last time you fed was that fucker that got you caught.

Hange took notice of the darkening pools of black that endured over your eyes, hunger. Your tongue darted out to dampen your lip ever so slightly as you stared down at the tied-up detective in your bedroom. Hange should've perhaps felt more frightened than they were, but they couldn't lie and pretend that their intrigue was due to fear. Hange held eye contact firmly, almost challenging and prepared. You swear you could see a tinge of red splashed on their cheeks, with a glimmer in their eyes.

"I'll untie you," you hummed, "but if you make any quick movements, I catch even a hint of you thinking about bolting—you're dead." Hange shuddered, swallowing, you could see their veins throb before they nodded.

"I won't."

In a sudden flash, you were behind them, your cold hands meeting their warmer wrists as you delicately unlaced the silk scarves. Loosening them until Hange could have free movement. Hange gradually turned to face you, their hands rubbed at each wrist to soften the imprints of the restraints. Their breathing grew hefty, as they observed you, waiting. Tentatively, you reached to remove the silk still bunched around their jaw, before glancing into their eyes. Evaluating if they were going to try and make a run for it, but their scent filled your nose, eager and wanting. They were enjoying this. The realisation was dizzying—Hange was dizzying.

"You sure you want me to do this, love?"

Hange was feverishly warm, nodding, "As long as you don't drain me, yes." you hummed in response, desire fuelling your own keenness as you imagined their metallic taste.

"Where d'you want me to—" "Anywhere."

The corner of your lips quipped up, exposing the fangs protruding from your incisors as they grew longer with your increasing thirst. Hange felt themself shiver at the sight of longing glazed in your eyes. At the sharp points poking out from beneath your full top lip. Kinda sexy, Hange thought, wait wha—

Meanwhile, you were mulling. Blood from the wrist would suffice, it was tasty enough, but blood from the neck was much warmer, hotter, and more alive.

"Take off your coat 'n holster." Hange diligently followed your orders, discarding the heavy garment and unclipping the holster from their torso, throwing them down to the floor near the silk ties. You reached a hand out, inviting—an offer to guide them to a more comfortable place. Hange's hand met your own, a chill travelled down their spine as your colder fingers interlaced with theirs and you led them to your queen-sized bed.

You hadn't even used your powers, and yet they were still following you willingly, completely entranced of their own accord. You found that you liked it, found that it set your cold body alight, as it hadn't done for years. Hange sat at your bed, comfortably sandwiched between two pillows. Doe eyes watched you expectantly, the brown pools behind lenses tracking after your body as you charmingly placed yourself beside them. Thighs were touching against each other. This is kind of exciting, Hange thought.

"I've... been wanting to taste you all night," Hange let out a breathy gasp, the connotation of your words flustered them. The blush of their cheeks returning as you eyed them up, inching yourself closer to their slender neck. Fingers teased around Hange's knee.

"Could feel your blood flowing from across the street," you inhaled, a twinkle coming over your eyes, "just... irresistible."

Hange was lulled into a natural daze, the incitement of your words heating them up more than it should. Inching your head closer to their pulse point, your nose grazed over Hange's tender, shivering skin. The detective sighed, head lolling backwards a few angles to expose more of themself to you; allowing you more access. Hange's knee leaned itself into your palm.

"Wi-will it hurt?" "Not much, my love."

It's true, that after the sting of the initial punctures, fangs naturally seep the chemical Hange found, into their bloodstream. It was an evolutionary mechanism, developed to sedate, designed to be pleasurable. Hange was trembling beneath you, their hands squeezing together atop their thighs.

One of your hands reached out to unbutton the top four catches of their shirt, loosening the fabric around the collar to show their shoulders and collarbone. Looking down at their neck, you could see the raising bumps rising over their skin. You loosened up their tie, too, allowing it to dangle shamelessly over their bare throat.

Pressing your lips to peck at the skin, grazing right over the crook of their neck, you saw Hange swallow beside you. Their eyes fluttered shut, reeling in the sensation of the coldness of your satiny lips.

"Tell me when it's enough," you mumbled, in-between tender kisses, "just tap me and I'll stop."

Lost for words, Hange nodded, "Okay," their lips twitched at the feel of your own. Feeling the way your words blew against their skin, your hand raised from their thigh to grasp their waist. The other lifting to move Hange's hair out of the way. Your lips parted to sink your fangs into their olive skin. A hiss escaped from Hange at the initial sting. Eyes squeezed whilst their head fell back, and you grabbed the top of Hange's spine to provide support.

Their blood began to shed against your teeth, coating your tongue. "Ah—fuck." came from their wispy voice, followed by a lowered sigh, the chemical had kicked in. The pain subdued, easing off as their blood was drawn from your fangs. It was almost sensual, intimate.

A muffled groan reverberated from deep within your throat as you fed, their blood tasted even better than you could've ever imagined. Sweet and saccharine on your tongue. Their taste encompassed your senses, and your breathing heaved. Hange grasped the back of your neck and tightened their warm grip on you, drawing you closer to their own neck. Their lips split to release a sharp whimper whilst your teeth ravenously sunk deeper into the divine flesh.

Your senses were overloaded, Hange's fragrant elation candied their blood—so much different to how fear tasted. Amidst their elation and the overwhelming mouthful of blood, you could sense a dampness gathering within Hange's centre, leaking and sitting in between their legs—oh!

A rasped snarl evoked from your throat, and your fingers came to squeeze tighter into their midsection, just above their hip. Pulling your bodies tighter against one another, relishing and indulging your appetite in Hange's own depraved bliss.

Strength began to return to your limbs, enflaming your entire being as Hange's lithe body twitched and trembled. You were almost full, just a little longer. You'd have expected Hange to tap out by now; but the sporadic tremors of their thighs, the little jerks of their hips unveiled their lustful rapture.

"That feels—shit—f-fantastic," Hange whined, able to catch their voice to whine into the room's atmosphere, their speech soft and breathy. Lighter. You hummed into their neck, intoxicated and relishing in their divinity as you rid them of their blood. You rolled your tongue, lapping over the lacerated punctures. "Ah—" They keened, sinking themself further into your fangs, loving the sensation of the wet muscle passing against their skin. It felt like Hange had no intention of stopping you anytime soon, and if you continued you'd end up sucking them completely dry.

Removing your fangs from the indents in their neck, Hange grumbled beside you. With a closing swipe of your tongue over the fresh wound, you licked the remnants of blood sticking to their skin.

"Wait, wh-why'd you stop..." Hange was dazed, slowly blinking up at you with creeping disappointment, as they attempted to push your head back to where it was. "Love," you chuckled, licking the specks of blood caught in the corners of your mouth, "if I continued, you'd be dead—I've had my fill, thank you."

Hange definitely had not, though, a slight pout lifted their sweet lips. "You taste fucking delightful, thank you, dear." "But..." Hange firmly compressed their thighs together, desire sinking down their diaphragm from your pulling words as they were left with an uncomfortable dampness between their thighs, "..I.. enjoyed it."

"I'm sure you did, but I can't take anymore from you tonight." "I.." Hange's voice trailed off, unsure of whether they should continue speaking. "What is it, dear?"

Hange shied at the way you referred to them, words hesitant, "Can we... maybe, do this again?" "What, y'trying to make me a regular?" your words were teasing. Hange flushed, ears reddening as they fiddled with their dainty fingers. "I just thought that, maybe, this could be a permanent solution."

You studied them cautiously, understanding of what was truly going on here. Hange was hooked, and suddenly this had just gotten much messier than initially thought.

"How often do you...need to eat?" "Usually once a week, if it's good blood then longer—yours should keep me going for a good while."

You could smell Hange's rising disappointment, they nodded, "Oh."

"That's not a bad thing, you know?" you laughed, your posture relaxing as you nudged your shoulder into theirs, "Besides, y'need a few days to recover from the blood loss. So make sure you eat well, dear—get your strength back."

Hange looked up at you, the glasses placed on the aquiline bridge of their nose flashed with the reflections of the ambient lamps.

"That's... considerate of you," they whispered, taking in your words. "Well, I need to keep you healthy now, right?" "So that means, we can do it again?"

Their insistence was acutely endearing, you bit down a smile, "You keep your end of the deal, then I'll keep mine." Hange's lips twitched, stretching into a pleased grin, "I'll close the case as soon as I can—so no more bodies?" "No more bodies."

—

Truthfully, you'd been a little apprehensive to let Hange leave your house for work that following morning. (Yes, they did spend the night, you're not cruel—you couldn't let them pass out on the streets. That's all, nothing more.) A fiendish part of your paranoia was trying to persuade you that the detective had just put up a really convincing act, but you knew that didn't feel right. Humans couldn't hide sincerity like that with you in comparison to how they did with other humans. You could quite literally feel the lies, their quickening heart rates and body language gave them away all too easily.

Thinking back to that night, it felt like a little bit of a dreamy haze, you were surprised with yourself for even entertaining it for that long. Let alone allowing them to give you demands, none of that mind control shit—their words rang louder in your head as you chuckled to yourself. Catching a threatening smile forming against your cheeks as your thoughts fell back to the hopeful glimmer in their eyes as you agreed to feed on them again. Cute.

Excuse me, what the actual fuck? If you could glance in the mirror and actually see yourself, you'd have a stern one-on-one conversation with your own reflection. You'd say, just how the fuck could you let this happen! Should've just killed them and been done with it. But you just... couldn't. There was just something strangely charming about the detective. Intelligent and so, so cute.

That's without even thinking about how wonderfully delicious they were, offering themself to you as if they trusted you with their life. The way they squirmed beneath you, the little gasps that evaded Hange's throat as you drank. The throb between their thighs calling out for you to do something about it and... fuck, you were losing your train of thought.

This definitely isn't good, nor is it even wise. A deal with a human? Add that to your increasing list of recent mistakes. You can't just expect them to sell out their own species—but intuitively, you almost trusted Hange. Their personality felt too genuine, the blush on their cheeks when they got flustered and the pretty sounds they made as you fed, no one could just fake that, right?

Your phone buzzed as Hange's number popped through the notifications, they didn't let up on this that night. Went on a long ramble about how you should both be in contact so that dinner plans could be made effectively. They began a pattern of often texting you over the course of the week, clearly having a lot of questions about the nature of your 'curse', and it was a lot.

Hange tried to secretly code their questions to you in the form of pretending it was about a supernatural book series you were both discussing. Hange stated that you never know when phones and their messages are being tapped or logged; and that it was smart to use the book as a pretence, as if you were both just debating dorky questions within its universe context.

You didn't have the heart to tell them how painfully obvious they came across. Plus, although you thought of it as a little silly, you did periodically get gems like this:

hzoe: hey you think in that universe vampires can read minds? i feel like they could! you: No, probably not.

or:

hzoe: um how do u think they feel about period blood??? i mean what if they're just trying to go about their day and its that time of the month for a lot of people? how could they resist the urge to just stick a straw up there and go ham??

That particular one came in one day at eight in the damned morning, way too fucking early for that sort of question. Your reply never came for that one. Then there was your personal favourite:

hzoe: ya think they've ever gone down to the bottom of the ocean, just to see what's down there?

That one actually made you laugh, unfortunately. You decided that one day you'd actually try it—maybe relay your findings to your little scientist. Hange was clearly bursting out the seams with questions, and who better to ask than their friendly, local vampire? After a couple more days, Hange texted you again.

hzoe: hey, can we have dinner? (i'm not hungry, let's have dinner.)

The senses in your body ignited, thinking about the opportunity of being able to feed from Hange again. They'd been incredibly patient about it, albeit with a few questions regarding whether or not you were getting hungry. It was easily perceivable that they were getting more antsy, it seeped through the messages. And your filling from the last feed was wearing dry.

Hange was due to come down to your place after their shift—it's funny, they never were the type to leave work at the hour the shift ended. Always stayed behind, later than everyone else, focusing on research if there were no cases, which there barely ever were. So it's unusual to their colleagues that Hange is suddenly very eager to leave the workplace.

The detective hadn't shared the evidence they came across, true to their word, so the case had pretty much come to a standstill. People were obviously still confused, with so many unanswered questions and a recent lack of new bodies. Hange felt a little guilty for withholding information about the case from their longtime coworkers, but a deal is a deal. Hange considered themself a person of good faith, betraying your trust simply wasn't in the cards for them.

Hange was behaving normally around all of them, the only difference is that they were suddenly using their phone a lot more during breaks and actually leaving work at the time they were scheduled to. One of their coworkers pulled them to the side earlier in the day, a weird, little knowing glint plastered over his face as he interrogated Hange on if there was a new lady in their life.

Naturally, Hange got incredibly flustered, waving their hands in the air with attempts to refute the idea profusely; though the blush in their cheeks betrayed them. The coworker walked away laughing at them, shaking his head with a 'Sure,' clearly disbelieving of everything Hange tried to refuse. It was damning, for sure. However, Hange supposed it was better that they think this instead of the reality... so they just kind of let them believe it.

Meanwhile, you were feeling especially generous tonight, perhaps because of your own excitement or perhaps because Hange had stayed true to their deal for now. Either way, you decided to cook them a nice meal. It was mainly to ensure they had enough in their system to make up for the next loss of blood, at least that's what you told yourself.

The detective's car was heard before they were seen, you heard the drone of the engine come to a halt and a click of the lock. Hange knocked at your door, so you moved away from the oven top to let them in. Their intoxicating scent was back in your vicinity.

"Hey—wait, are you cooking?" Hange looked past you to the bubbling pot on the flame, "I thought you couldn't eat human food."

Suddenly, you felt sheepish, an unusual emotion for you, turning back to lean over the pot, "Uh, yeah I can't—it's for you." Hange's brows lifted, a quick look of surprise on their face before it switched to slight adoration. They nibbled on their lip, trying to ignore the squeeze that tightened around their chest at the sight of you cooking for them.

They had just finished up at work, and here you were cooking for them? The simple action felt so domestic, so marital, and you felt Hange's heartbeat hike up, thumping in your ears. "That's sweet, it smells great."

Shrugging, you turned back to face them, "I could hear your stomach rumbling from your car, I'm glad I decided to cook." You joked, trying to lighten the sudden severity of tension in your house.

"I did eat! I had a sandwich for lunch," you rolled your eyes. "That is definitely not enough if you're going to lose blood tonight,"

Hange reddened at your words, ashamed to admit they had been looking forward to this more than was probably necessary. Your voice broke them out of their thoughts, reminding them that food was ready and demanded that they sit down.

The detective removed their trench coat and holster, this time hanging it around the edge of your couch, before sitting down. The air was a little tense, filled with smokey anticipation as you loaded Hange's plate with your food.

"I didn't know you cooked," "I used to love cooking," you sighed, sitting parallel from Hange, with only a short cup of mellow whiskey on ice, "It's nice having a reason to do it again, even though I'm a little rusty now."

Hange watched you intently as you spoke, their thoughts haphazard and their hand grabbing a fork to load a bite into their mouth. The delightfully tender meat melted on their tongue, complimented by the combination of aromatics and spices you'd used to flavour the warm sauce.

"This doesn't taste like someone who's rusty—it's delicious." "I'm glad you think so,"

You sipped on your drink as Hange ate, feeling strangely proud that the food was being enjoyed. It was hard to ignore Hange's moans of food pleasure, rocking a little in their chair with contentment as they ate.

"Y'keep cooking for me like this and I'll have to marry you—" Your eyes lifted from your drink to Hange, who was sitting there with a bashful expression. "I didn—"

"No one ever cooked for you?" Changing the subject was a good idea, halt Hange's embarrassment and halt your own speeding heart. This was definitely not good.

"Not for a long time," It was slightly isolated being a chief detective. The social network ends up being the people on your squad or at the lab. Hange lived and breathed their work, relationships never at the forefront of their priorities. That, and the opportunity seldom showed itself.

Nodding, you brought the rim of the glass to your lips, letting the liquor slide into your mouth as Hange finished the meal, complimenting your efforts one last time. "You got a little..." you muttered, glancing at the smallest speck of sauce on the corner of Hange's lips. "Oh—" As Hange fumbled over themself to quickly fix it, you beat them to it. A calm hand reached over to swipe your thumb over their lower lip, effectively wiping the speck off.

Hange's chest rose and sank, frozen in place as your thumb remained hovering over their lip. Almost as if you were waiting for... oh. The pupils within Hange's eyes dilated, allowing the black of their eyes to expand as they split their lips to allow you entrance.

"Gotta have every last drop, right?" Your gentle words were like nectar, laced with a sweet insinuation and thick persuasion. The detective's plump lips pursed over your thumb, sucking the tiniest remnants of the sauce from your skin whilst oceans of black pools held your gaze. Hange's scent was coating the air, the excitement that returned to their blood was driving you out of decorum as it filled your senses.

Their tongue was lapping over your thumb, so obediently, until you popped it out from their mouth. Your lips tilted into a smirk as you took notice of Hange's disappointment. Thumb grazed over their bottom lip once more, smushing the plumpness around, wanting to tease the flustered detective for a little longer.

"Are you h-hungry?" Hange's twinkling, eager eyes pleaded, squirming around in their chair whilst your thumb pressed over their skin. "Starving."

Hange exhaled a heavy breath followed by them leaning closer into your space. "Can we go... into the bedroom?" Their gaze fell to your lips as your smile widened, "It—it's just more comfy." "Of course, dear."

The gulp that spanned down Hange's throat was unmissable, the spike in their heartbeat matched your own as you led them to your bedroom. It looked the same as it did last time, but the energy within it was entirely different, the kind of palpable charge that electrifies the air right before a storm. Closing the door, Hange seated themself on the edge of the bedcover, it was a kind of emerald velvet — affluent and plush. Most things in your house had a look of regalness. Hange's fingers skimmed over the lush fabric, a stim to release the tension building within their limbs.

Sitting across from them, you set a soothing hand on their knee. Hange looked more uneasy than last time, and you worried that they no longer wished to continue with it and just weren't stating so. "You don't have to do this... I can find another source." Hange instantly broke out of their trance, the lid over their eyes enlarging as they shook their head. "No! That's not.. what I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking, then?" "Would it be okay if..." the rest of the sentence retreated, Hange growing timid, "Could you kiss me? Before you do it?" It was hard to not be endeared by the detective, with shrinking words but insistent determination overpowering it.

"Want me to kiss you, dear?" Hange nodded, with a slight circumference of their lip drawn in by their teeth, their eyes trailing down to your silken mouth. Leaning your head closer to theirs, your vision flicked from their eyes to their parting lips. Your faces were centimetres away from each other, Hange's head at an incline to yours, endeavouring to haul you in.

Hange simmered with anticipation as you teasingly extended the process, inciting them with scorching greed. You wanted to draw this out—knowing that once you kissed Hange, both of you could sink into something deeply irreversible. So you waited, breathing Hange's sighs into your orbit as you observed the way impatience began to riddle their face. The subtle tweaks of their eyebrows as their half-lidded eyes lingered on your lips. Hange whimpered when you got a little closer, a slight graze of plumpness against their own led them to believe you'd finally attach, to no avail.

"Please."

Your lips curved upwards as you finally pressed them against Hange's, who felt such a beguiling relief at the connection. Your hands reached up to grasp Hange's jaw, pulling them closer. Hange sighed as your lips united. Softly and hesitant at first, a means for growing comfortability at Hange's request. Then it escalated, the scent of Hange's blood rose with ardour as the kiss intensified. Open mouths split to allow tongues to mix with the heat, wet muscles ravaged one another.

Hange gripped at your neck with a slight tightening of their digits on your skin. You felt yourself reel, their scent kindling carnal want within your stomach, rousing your ferocity. You liked kissing Hange, more than any other in the past, perhaps more than you should. Their little incensed groans that muffled against your lips spurred you to place your hands beneath their thighs, tugging Hange from their position and manoeuvring them between your pillows. Hange's thighs split to accept your placement in between.

The kiss was maddening, Hange's entire being was all-consuming. Lasciviously, your teeth clamped down on their bottom lip, erupting a hiss from Hange as you sucked the tiny beading of blood from their skin, you couldn't contain your keenness to taste Hange again.

Your lips separated as Hange's head nestled between the cushions. Their glasses were a little crooked on the bridge of their nose, dishevelled from when you cruised Hange to lie down, their lips plumpened and swollen from the ambush. With a chuckle, you fixed their glasses for them, straightening them into proper line— Hange was left with no option but to watch you do it as they replenished the air back in their lungs, a deep set in their lower belly as you gently fixed the placement of their glasses.

Lowering your head, your nose grazed up from their hollowed trachea to the space below their ear. Hange freely hung their head back, deliriously exposing their neck further to you. They were gifting you their skin as they waited for you to feed. You pressed a peck against the side of their neck to simply watch the shivers descend their body.

The buttons clasping the fabric of Hange's shirt were now undone, this time it wasn't just the top four buttons. You had every intention of keeping it that way, of leaving Hange with some remaining dignity but they just didn't want it. Their slender fingers unclasped the perilous buttons you had nobly ignored. The two separate sides of their office shirt now disconnected to present an indecent flash of Hange's tanned skin. A delectable contrast against the white shirt, the light in the room shadowed the contours of their sternum leading down to their navel. A little trail of hair guided your eyes down, just to be covered by the waistband of their pants.

You almost audibly groaned, feeling yourself debilitated by Hange's enticing snare. They were trying to lure you in, a tempting song ringing in your ears. The heaves within their chest are more captivating with the lack of any covering fabric, the stiffening of their nipples poked through the half-opened shirt. Hange's collarbone, sternum and tight stomach are all unrestricted, free for you to gaze upon and admire. Hange was simply ravishing.

Placing a hand below the loose fabric, you grasped their hipbone, squeezing once you heard Hange draw in a gasp at the coldness of your fingers against their enflamed being. As much as you tried to withhold yourself, and control your gluttony—Hange was making it exceedingly difficult. Your lips hovered over their neck, on the opposite side of where you punctured last time and licked up a stripe with your tongue. You weren't as gentle with it as last time. Spurred by Hange's sounds and their insistence on sinking you down with them. Hange shuddered underneath you, inclining their neck closer to your teeth as you pricked your fangs deep into their flesh.

The exquisite flavour of Hange's blood once more filled your mouth, coating your tongue. You hummed into their neck, fingers digging into their hip as you drank voraciously. Hushed moans escaped from Hange's lips as your fangs drew the very blood from their veins. Hange was a lot more vocal this time, whimpering at how fucking good it feels to have your fangs piercing their skin again. The slick pooling between their legs reaches your nose delightfully, and you can hear their pulsing clit. Dangerous words slip from Hange's mouth.

"Fuck—" Hange whispered with delirium, their voice was taut and airy as their hips writhed against your body, perfectly nestled between their thighs, "Wish you could do that forever,"

The depravity of Hange's words ensnared you, finding yourself losing your grip on reality. So do I, you thought. In a fit of lust, coaxed by Hange's intensity, your knee pressed itself against Hange's centre. At the wicked combination of your knee and the added exhilaration of your fangs buried deep within their skin; Hange let out a vulgar, insatiable moan. Their hands came to dig into your back as their mind whirled. Hange was in a stupor, clouded by their prurient desires. Obsessed, that's how they felt. Utterly addicted to you, and now that you'd kissed them? Now that your knee was bucking into their throbbing core? No chance. They wanted you to be theirs, they didn't care for the logistics of reality.

Hange had been pining hard over the last week, indulging themself in sordid thoughts of your fingers deep inside their walls. The images kept them up at night, flicking their index over their own clit as they imagined you snug in between their thighs. Hange was aching then just as they're aching now. They felt their head grow lighter with the loss of blood, it was spurring their wretched want for you as they ground their hips against your knee, panting with their head back.

You were in a similar way. Senses overly just full of Hange—their desire was radiating from their body and the copper taste of their blood was so intensely intoxicating. You knew you had to stop feeding soon, though, you'd been full a while ago, and Hange couldn't afford your licentious greed. You want this one around. Rather begrudgingly for both of you, you unhooked your fangs from Hange's throat, licking up the specked remnants splattered on their neck.

"Sublime, as always."

Hange whined as they recognised that it was over, lifting their head to meet eyes with you again. Hange lips stretched to grin up at you, beaming as their luscious left-over blood trickled down from your lips. Shame was way out of the window as they felt themself clench around nothing at the sight. Gathering a good dose of it on their fingers, Hange slipped their blood-covered fingers into your open mouth for you to appreciate. They couldn't help the deviant sounds they evoked, watching you happily lap up the maroon nectar drying on their svelte fingers with your eyes closed, groaning at their taste.

"Every last drop, right?" Hange mumbled, voice thick with wanton need. Their hips started winding against your knee again, causing fleeting bouts of tantalising euphoria to spread in their stomach. Grasping Hange's wrist tenderly, you pushed away their fingers from your mouth, tugging both wrists to a limp above their head. Gazing down at Hange as their lips split with each buck of your knee.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dear, I won't stop," you muttered, your free hand skimming over their stomach, twitching as you grazed past their abdomen and landed just above their waistband. Hange fidgeted beneath you, pulling your lower body tighter against their centre with their thighs.

"That sound good?" Hange nodded, "Please— it's all I've been t-thinking about..."

Loosening the buttons on their jeans, you pulled their clothing off. All that remained was the slutty white top baring Hange's torso and shoulders to you, the long sleeves ended up bunched around their elbows.

"What else have you been thinking about, huh?" Hange glanced up at their crossed wrists, propped up above their head still even though your hands had long stopped holding them. Obedient. "The silk ties.."

"What about them, sweetheart?" "I l-liked them on my skin," Hange sighed when they felt your fingers teasing their inner thighs, "I want you to tie my wrists with them, again, please."

A treacherous heat fevered down to your stomach, you swallowed an exhale. "Well," You grumbled, "How can I say no to that?"

You leaned over to grab the silk scarves from your dresser. Usually, you used them for your hair but this was a great alternative. Slipping the delicate silk around Hange's crossed wrists, you left their arms hanging above their head, tied and trapped.

Hange's arousal was thumping against your ears, increased with the new position. Sitting into a straddle over their pelvis, the slit of your long skirt exposed your lithe thighs as the fabric bunched around your waist. Hange's lensed eyes studied you, heavy and thick as they took in the newly bared skin that they now just couldn't touch. Your chest was close to theirs as you hovered your mouth above their lips.

"I—shit," "What is it, Hange, what else d'you want?" You placed your knee back in between their legs, your other leg was curved around their right, teasing their relief. "Can—can you just fuck me, please—" Hange was pleading, voice embarrassed and their lidded eyes dark. The closeness of your knee to their pulsing core was overbearing, just left in wait for some real touch.

Grazing your fingers down their exposed sternum, you provoked a little pressure with your nails. Light scratches rubbed against Hange's soft skin, leaving pinkish marks on their torso. Their stomach twitched and their pelvis rutted up at the action, causing the skin of your knee to bump against their bare slit. "Hnf—please, I—"

"Need you—so bad," Your hand travelled lower, ever so slow, tormenting. Fingers grazed over Hange's seeping clit, it was swollen and begging for touch. You groaned as you trialled a swipe with your index, feeling how arduously saturated Hange was for you.

"Got this wet just from me feeding on you?" you chuckled, enjoying the little twitches in Hange's facial expressions, "My god, love, you're fucking soaked."

"Pl-please—can't take it any more," "You don't even feel an ounce of shame, do you?" you began rubbing over their clenching, puffed clit, "No, you don't care how twisted this is." Hange whined, rippling their pelvis over your hand, their eyes closing as you finally soothed the fiendish craving.

"You just want some release, don't you, Hange?" Hange cried beneath you, their wrists weakly lowering ever so slightly to rest atop their head. Dousing your fingers over their leakage for less friction, you rolled pressure over their clit with your digits. You enjoyed seeing them like this.

Hange let out lecherous, unstable moans, relishing at the feel of your coldness massaging their swollen bud. Your words were driving them to a growing, rapid insanity. Hange startled when you effortlessly slid two fingers into their heat, curling them up to hit the back of their inner walls.

"Ah—fuck—yes, fuck—finally." Lowering yourself down to their pelvis, fingers ramming inside Hange as you rested your head on their spread thigh. Hange could just stare down at you, sat pretty between their legs with a damned smile on your lips as Hange was coming apart on your fingers.

"You look so p-pretty—like that," Hange mewled, your eyes sparkling as you saw their blissed disposition. "Yeah?" you bit the corner of your inner lip, before grazing your lips over their inner thigh, pecking, "This what you thought about?"

Hange nodded, exhaling deeply as they peeped the expansion of fangs from your teeth. The sharp incisors pulling across the sensitive skin of Hange's inner thigh. Their thigh twitched when you buried a light nip on their skin, a tiny bead of blood drawing out. Not enough to drain them, just a little drop, just a little extra taste. The tied-up wrists above Hange's head were trembling, losing control over their muscles as your tongue poked out to swipe up the small, maroon bead.

"Fuck—that's, hn, fuck." Your tongue left a viscous mark in its wake, you licked up Hange's thigh, leaving them twitching on your fingers. You prodded the squish of their walls, assailing a spot that had Hange shivering and mumbling out salacious cries.

Your mouth was so close to their pussy, Hange couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Head leaning back into the pillows ruinously as your tongue tentatively swiped along the dewy sap coating their slit. Their blood tastes divine, but this was almost better. Their scent and taste crowded your senses, it was all Hange, dizzying you. Their hedonistic whimpers forced you to carnally crave more of them; the sweetest blood you had ever tasted and the most inviting pussy to ever grace your tongue.

Your muffled moans fell into Hange's core as you ate it, their hips quipped up desperately to feel your tongue, their oozing pussy clenching tight to burrow in your fingers. "So fucking tight, shit," you murmured. Hange's bound wrists and bent elbows were in tremors as they allowed you to have all of them, thighs spreading out further to trap you within.

"Shit—like that, fuck—unh—" Hange's debased vocals made you wayward, incensed to bring the cute detective to their last brink, all splayed underneath you. Your fingers worked steadfastly, kneading into Hange's welcoming heat with an unwavering rhythm. The tension in their abdomen tightened, it flexed and twitched with your movements as your tongue slowly ravished over Hange's swollen bud.

Your free hand slithered up to cup around Hange's breast, tracing around the stiffened nipple. Hange's back arched up to greet your hand and you spread the plush skin between your fingers. Minute grunts were stuck in Hange's throat whilst you tweaked the firm bundle, the nerves eliciting acute thrills down their spine.

"Feels, s'fucking good—shit, love seeing you there."

With half-lidded eyes, Hange stared down at you, gulping, when they witnessed how deeply enraptured you were in between them. Your jaw and mouth buried into their slit, your brows pinched as frenzied mumbles vibrated in your throat. Leftover streaks of blood drying on their thigh from the bite. It was sinful, how miserably turned on they were from it. By the sight of you working them with eager might, and Hange left unable to touch you, can't even squeeze on to the nice, velvet sheets as their peak builds up. Lifting your tongue from them briefly, you mutter to yourself, "Fucking delicious," before delving back in.

That was enough for Hange, "Fuck, 'm gonna fucki—hng, 'm so close—pleas- keep going," The overwhelming bliss of sensations and your carnal words caused the tension to tighten and tighten until their abdomen ruptured their orgasm with a voluptuous cry from their lips. Slight tremors and twitches in the detective's pelvis and legs as they ride their release on your diligent fingers and tongue. Their nails broke the skin of their hands, the only physical outlet to relieve their release within the silk confines on their wrists.

"Fuck..." Hange whispered, blissed out as their ears began to ring. You lifted your head from their legs, impishly checking on them as their chest heaved. Soaked fingers slid out, pulling a final pulsing clench from Hange's pussy.

You kneeled up, sitting on folded calves as Hange's chest attempted to relax into a normal breathing pattern. Reaching up to untie the knots in the silk scarf from around their numbed wrists, which then lowered to bring forth circulation again. Their head was sunken back in the pillows whilst their eyes were on you, suddenly sheepish.

"You okay?" you cautioned warily, grasping their wrist to soothe over the indented marks left over their arms. Hange gaped as you tenderly rubbed over the marks, in such a gentle manner. "Yeah—just a little out of it," Hange lightly huffed, eyes fixed as you continued to caress their tender skin.

You halted your movements on their wrists to request eye contact, a hand grasping Hange's soft jaw to allow them to look at you. Hange's breath hitched, their doe eyes reflecting an unreadable expression within. You smiled at them, rubbing a thumb over their jaw before you fixed their crooked glasses once more, setting them properly on Hange's nose bridge. The cherry on top was a little, light peck you rested on Hange's nose.

Hange felt their heart liquefy, a sturdy weight blossomed in their chest. They hadn't expected you to be so sweet and... loving? A bashful grin quipped on their lips, this was bad. Incredibly bad. Dangerous, in fact. The beating in their chest was thick with a longing admiration, a deep-set yearn burning in their rib cage.

Similarly, as loud as you felt Hange's heartbeat in your ears, it was rivalling your own. An invisible thread pulling you towards the detective as you felt the most apprehensive you'd felt in decades. Hange was giving you the look, their eyes blown out and sparkling, full of expectation and craving. You dreaded to think that yours matched it. They were looking at you like they were in love, and it was terrifying.

This time, your chest rose and sank. With a part of your lips, you sighed. Feeling your own chest betray the steely damn you'd built over the years, full of distance and hesitance. You failed to find the power to re-build it, not when Hange was looking at you like that.

"That... was really nice," Hange chuckled, an adoring glaze struck in the amber of their eyes. You hummed an agreement, securing the loosened strands of Hange's hair behind their ear. Hange was melting right in front of you, your stern boundaries had been long crossed. You didn't quite know what to do with it.

The slight incline of their jaw towards you indicated that they wanted to kiss you, to make a final connection of your lips. The look in their eyes was so sweet, awaiting you making a closer move. You found that you couldn't resist, the thread dragging you towards their lips as you melded them together.

Hange sighed into the kiss, their arms wrapping around your neck to lure you into their close proximity.    After a few seconds of longing connection, after a few swipes of tongue and saliva, Hange's hands travelled down. Lethally slipping their fingers underneath the slit of your skirt, and pulled your thighs apart.

"Hange—wait," you broke the kiss, "You don't owe me anything back, okay?" Hange laughed and shook their head, leaning down to press precarious pecks down the length of your throat, all while their hand inched higher up your silky thigh. "I know."

You had forgotten how much of a determined person Hange is. Truthfully, you were soaked. Had made a mess of your underwear long before you even touched Hange, before you'd even ruined them.

"I just... really want to touch you," Hange muttered, their tongue swiping down to the hollow of your throat. Your skin was set alight again, burning down your cold body as Hange timidly pushed their fingers past your underwear.

"C-can I?" They pleaded, eyes thick with lust, and you nodded.

The fabric shoved to the side to expose your own pulsing heat to Hange, swollen and aching since you first sunk your teeth into Hange. "I mean, shit—you're this wet and I can't touch you?" Hange grumbled, sinking back into delirium as three fingers slipped inside your dewy slit, "Fuck, you feel so nice on my fingers."

You nipped at the corner of your bottom lip, entranced by Hange's keenness. Slowly, you lifted the hem of your shirt, breasts hanging free against your chest. Hange gaped at the sight of you, the stiff peaks edging your breasts and goosebumps rising down your arms. "You're beautiful, fuck,"

"Hange—" you sighed, grabbing a hold of their shoulders when Hange placed your thighs over their hips. Your pelvis began to rock against their fingers, over their hips as they plunged into your walls.

"Fuck—deeper." you ordered, a whiny order but an order nonetheless. Hange loved having you like this, still telling them what to do even if they were the one fucking you.

"I'll do anything you want," Hange promised, their words leaving space for double meanings. It was making you dizzy, they were so eager to please you. All of their own accord.

Hange's dainty fingers pressed further up, curling inwards against your velvet walls, you were using their hand to sate your avid ardour. Losing yourself in the feel of their fingers working so desperately to make you cum.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart—fucking me like that," your tantalising words incentivised the detective with an impassioned thirst. Hange let out little gasps and moans as your pussy sucked their fingers in. Their eyes locked in on the licentious way their fingers were more slicked with your arousal each time they pulled out.

Hange glanced up at you, locking eyes for a moment to catch the minute twitches in your face, before they sunk their head down to wrap their warm mouth around your nipple. Their teeth grazed over the sensitive bud, then licked a few swipes over with their tongue.

"You're so good for me, Hange—fuck—so good, just for me," your voice was breathy, the length of Hange's fingers inside you caused spasms in your abdomen to rip through you. "'m so close, Han—harder-fuck—you're gonna make me come,"

Hange pleaded beneath you, humming with coarse devotion. Whispers of please come for me—need to see you come for me, slipping from their lips. If Hange was hooked, you were even worse off. The pretty detective making you lose any semblance of your own principles as you left yourself attach to them.

With a few more barrages of their fingers against your squishy spot, your hands tightened their grips on Hange's back as you spilled your release over their hand. The muscles in your abdomen convulsed, with a final gasp, you came hard, body trembling above Hange's hips as you slowed your movements against their wrists.

Hange slipped their fingers out of you when they saw your hips steadying. In a daze, you grabbed at their wrist, drawing their soaked fingers along their bottom lip. Hange whined, mouth opening to take them in, lapping up the sweetness of your release coating their  drenched digits.

"Every last drop, right?" you huffed, catching your breath and the look Hange gave you made you clench. A perverse profane glance into your eyes as they groaned, muffled by your fingers sitting on their tongue. Hange nodded pathetically in agreement against your hand, almost gagging on your fingers.

You knew you were done for. Hange had worked their way into deep your heart. An ever growing soft spot for the cute detective. Hange had already been aware they were caught in your trap a while ago, it just took you a little longer to catch up.

Neither of you knew what this meant, an uncertain future for both of you. But Hange knew this:

They'd rather have this be the one case they never solved, than ever turn you in.

—

well… here it is, if u spot any errors im sorry 😭

would love to hear ur guys’ feedback!! leaving a comment or any reblogs are greatly appreciated <3333

[guppybibi]

Just a Teenage Dirtbag, Like You

aahh this took me a while ToT, not proofread idk

content: smoking, i dont listen to weezer im sorry, don't bother with the timelines tbh i gave up

Teenage!König who used to go hang out at abandoned places, ranging from hospitals, schools, malls, to even churches. He doesn't necessarily do anything there, just chills around in his own bubble.

Though sometimes he comes across groups of teenagers, some his age, some older and younger. Doesn't really matter though, they don't mind, and he certainly doesn't so it doesn't cause them any trouble.

Doesn't really do anything people his age would consider fun there..no booze, no cigarettes, he simply just sits at a corner, avoids the growing black mold on the damp wall and thinks. God, the amount of people he unintentionally spooked by pulling this can barely be counted on his fingers.

Most of the time, he moves from one abandoned place to another, not much different from a criminal that was on the run. Though this particular spot at an abandoned store was perfect for him, pretty hidden, not much people around, it was like it was meant to be. So König does the closest thing he could to mark his territory there, set up a shabby corner for himself there. Sure it may look like a homeless person is staying there but you gotta do what you gotta do.

It's always just been König and himself, well for the first few months at least. The first time he heard it was basically a month ago, some swishing and rustling here and there but it could've easily been nature's work. Who knows what the birds and the bees were up to?

Over the days though, König was more than sure someone else was there with him, the fact that he could clearly hear whispers and bustling made him positive about it. Not that it was a bad thing, he could really care less if a whole family moved into this place, he could just be that guy staying (not so) secretly in their attic or basement..Plus it's not like he's the righteous owner, so it doesn't matter.

It's like having a roommate you don't know about. (And they were roommates?!?)

So that's how it went for months on end, acknowledging each other's presence (Well that's what König thinks at least, he's not sure if you're aware of him being here with you.) yet never interacting.

And König's completely fine with that, not the littlest bit disturbed about it. The two of you meeting is bound to be inevitable but he'll let time do it's magic and wait, König is used to waiting after all. Waiting to get picked during group projects, only to be chosen last since didn't really have a choice. Waiting for his turn because he was constantly the last in line. Waiting and waiting and waiting, he's used to it. So it's fine with him.

The presence of the mystery person you're here with is incredibly noticeable, not that you've seen them directly. But you could imagine that the way they carried themselves would be this strong & dominant figure, it's best not to mess with whoever they are. It's like they're purposely making their presence known by the way they stomp around the place. (Little did you know it was just König walking:c he didn't mean to be so loud) You're simply just here for some peace and quiet, not to cause trouble.

Getting away from society's norms were exceptionally hard as little miss perfect, more difficult than any exams you've went through. So you found solitude in this forsaken space, the freedom you have here is beyond what you can taste in the outside world. And you're grateful for it.

It's really not much if you're being honest, a picnic mat laid down on the dusty concrete floor with some fairy lights stringed around that occasionally flickered when the battery was running low.

You didn't want to do this, but not all wants are met aren't they?

Today was a particularly bad one, everyone succeeding in getting under your skin like it was a challenge everyone agreed on. Heated stomps were placed on the cracked surface beneath you, unable to contain your temper any longer, you throw your school bag against the ground on your slightly secluded spot and let out a huff. Sitting down, you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your pocket, not so little miss perfect now huh?

Blowing out a puffy cloud of smoke, you sighed in relief. Heaven knows how much you needed that pick me up. Unbeknownst to you, the smoke was spreading out that even König who's practically at the other side of the building, could smell it.

König wasn't too bothered with the smoke's odor, having grown up in a raggedy-ass neighborhood, at the end of the day cigarette smoke was unavoidable. Though this day wasn't the best for König, as he had yet another awkward social interaction to add to the list. He simply went here to clear his head but if it's filled with a bunch of cloudy smoke, he's certainly bothered by it.

Unsurely, he believes that the scent could be coming from outside, not from you. But it doesn't hurt to tell you about how it bothers him right? Plus, he thinks that he should introduce himself now as you two have basically been roommates for months now. So he'll do it, he'll be the bigger person and communicate.

Standing up reluctantly, König went over to what he believed was your spot in this forgotten place. To his surprise, he sees you. Well, the actual you, not the figure of you he made up in his brain. You were the polar opposite of what he thought you'd be like, expecting to see a troublesome teenager living the life of a teenage dirtbag, not a teenage girl who looks like she's the top of her class. But you were smoking a cig right now, not..what he'd exactly expect coming from a person looking like you. He doesn't judge though..most of the time so he approaches you nonetheless.

"Um..excuse me?" He calls out, hoping to get your attention as quick as possible to avoid embarrassingly repeating his words again. Luckily for him you're in no need for hearing aids just yet, instantly turning over once you heard his voice. "Yeah?" You ask, bobbing your head to the side while you blow out a cloud of smoke, lightly tapping your cigarette.

"Sorry to bother but do you think you could smoke outside?" He asks, watching you intently when you toss the cigarette aside. "Oh? No it's totally fine, I'll stop. I just needed a little shot in the arm, that was enough." You answer, scratching the back of your neck. This was..awkward to say the least. This was your first ever conversation despite technically knowing each other for months now.

König's eyes ineptly darted around the place as he mentally decided if he should try to take this conversation further or just scurry away, but oh! Look at that, a Weezer poster plastered on the wall! The perfect conversation starter!

"You like Weezer?" He asks, making himself comfortable as he sits right beside you. König notices the way your eyes spark up like fireworks on New Year's day. "I do! I'm like their #1 fan, ya like Weezer too?" You were gladly met with him nodding his head, happily pulling out your CD player so you two can jam along to their songs.

Chucking in a random CD from your..let's say extensive collection, "No One Else" starts playing. You soon learn that his name was König likewise, he learned about your name too. He learned more than that actually, the things you liked and didn't, your pet peeves, and the fact that maybe love at first sight was real.

Oh God König felt like an absolute idiot, why did falling for you feel like tumbling down a flight of stairs? König never really bothered with 'crushes' and all that, his confidence lowered down from all the bullying he receives daily.

Now though, perhaps he has a chance, he hopes. Maybe he should give love a try again.

Things between the two of you seem to progress into something better, something more than just two best friends. König couldn't believe it, how could his heart let his guard down and actually let you in? The so-called infatuation should only last about 2 weeks max, not months! He wants to individually torture each and every butterfly in his stomach to get rid of this unfamiliar feeling, love.

There's no doubt about it anymore, it really was that hideous thing called love. And König did not like it one bit, he had always felt like he doesn't deserve anything close to love. Don't even get me started on commitment, actually confessing to you? He'd rather crawl into a cave and never leave than do that! Commitment is a big thing to ask from König, it's just something so foreign to him, the only thing he's committed to in his life was his education and future career.

The future in question may be approaching soon, a little too soon. When König found out that you could already volunteer at the military this time of year, he was torn apart on what to do. This could've been the future career he had always thought about as a kid, already imagining himself as a recon sniper. Then there was you who randomly came into his life and instantly stuck to him like super glue, he was doomed.

He needs to choose, like..now if possible.

It's been weeks since you've heard from König, the band posters on the walls of his spot replaced with imaginary missing posters with his face plastered on it. All of his things in his spot was wiped clean, well as clean as the abandoned building could get but you know what I mean. He wasn't responding to your calls and texts either, you were so close to calling the authorities because he could've been left in a garage freezer by some serial killer! There was little you could do besides wait, wait like a clingy puppy by the doorstep.

When König had gone, you went to the abandoned place less often, internally hoping that the things you left there weren't raided or stolen. But you had another particularly rough day, wanting to reminisce and clear your mind, you make your way back.

Unexpectedly, you find a crumpled up note on your spot. Last time you checked, nothing like it was there. You hesitantly grabbed it, debating if you should open and see. But curiosity takes over you as you open it, it was a lengthy letter, obviously from König based off the rusty penmanship.

It was a random string of words about König signing up for the military, all of the words flying out and through your head to protect the state of your already fragile heart. The words "Goodbye, I love you." go in your line of sight.

He just left for the military, left this note and nothing else, he abandoned you like a shipwreck, abandoned you like the place you two first met.

[himimosa]

how they hug

some headcannons on how dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya and edogawa ranpo hugs...

Dazai Osamu

-Dazai is exceptionally observing. Even though he can't empathize with all feelings people have, he knows what to do in social situations by mimicking others, it is just about if he cares or wants to do it...

-"polite hug": This is the hug you see most in social life when you greet someone you are not close with, where the lower bodies don't touch and only arms gently holding the other by shoulders. This hug is for his acquaintances or people he interacts with for work.

- "embracing hug": He wraps his arms very tightly around the other's back. If he hugs you like this, you feel safe and sound. You can hear his heartbeat, his slow breathing. He might give a few pats to your head or back. He usually use this hug for comforting people who he cares when they are crying or feeling down...or if he wants to give someone a false sense of trust and manipulate them...

- "clingy hug": Where he just jumps into the arms of you... He wraps his arms and whole body around you like an octopus. He buries his neck wherever he likes at that moment; your hair, your neck, your chest. He whines like a little child, says how much he missed you and says that he won't let you go now... (the thing is, sometimes he hugs Kunikida exactly like this because Dazai knows this level of clinginess drives the poor guy crazy: "Dazai put your fucking arms away from me and go back to work you waste of bandages!")

Nakahara Chuuya

- I don't think Chuuya does hug a lot of people. Or does he even hug?.. He doesn't look like someone who hugs to greet people in a mafioso meeting. I can't even imagine him hugging anyone to just greet them in the port mafia, he looks more like the type who gives a nod with his head or a firm handshake at most... But even not so frequently, this redhead mafia executive has times he hugs too:

- "drunk hugs": Where he loosely puts his hand around the shoulder of whoever he is drinking with that night. (might be Akutagawa or Tachihara) This is more like a side hug, where he hums and swings the song that is currently playing on the bar, even if there is no music he will sing and swing...

-"hug with only one arm": (This is sad, please don't hate me) His job is not the most chill one, he loses people who work under him. Sometimes he loses underlings and he prefers to give their death notifications to their families by himself. He is someone who takes care of people who are under his wing, it counts for their loved ones too... When they break down with the news -the dead one's friend or companion or child doesn't matter- chuuya will simply put his gloved hand on the back of their head, and let them cry into his shoulder or chest. This is a reassuring type of hug that says "I am still here and I will take care of you"

-"stir on the air hug": This is how this man hugs you. No matter your height or weight, he is the gravity manipulator. Whenever he hugs you, he can't help but slyly and abruptly pick you up from the ground by your waist and draw circles with you. You feel like a feather in this man's arms and can't help but laugh when he rotates around like a child. He loves to adore your giggly face from the downside. And if you give him a kiss from that angle? He is the happiest man ever...

Edogawa Ranpo

- I believe that Ranpo is the clingiest among them. It is only about if he feels comfortable enough... He won't hug any acquaintance for greeting like Dazai, (i don't think he handshakes too, he probably only waves his hand to greet) But with people who he feels closer with, like Ada members? Now that's a different story...

-"hugs with jumps": You know the hugs when two people who haven't seen each other for a long while that they run into each other's arms with a jump? Ranpo doesn't need a long separation for this hug, if he is overexcited about something, he will jump before hugging. Once he jumped over Kunikida just to prove that Kunikida will catch him even if it means to drop all documents in his hands, and Kunikida exactly did that (if you know the Terry-Jack scene from B99, you know this) (also poor Kunikida)

-"back hugs": Ranpo doesn't do much at the office, his job is mostly outdoors, at crime scenes... So whenever he is at the office if he is not eating snacks, he is probably on someone's shoulders. He loosely wraps his arms around their shoulders, his head sometimes rests on one shoulder. Sometimes he helps their case files with his great skills, sometimes he just wants to bother them because he is bored. If you are working at the ada, good luck because he is never leaving you. He is like a little mosquito (a loveable one) His head is always around your ears, he never shuts up. And sometimes he bites...

-"hide my face hugs": (Again, this is sad) There are only a few people in the world Ranpo hugs like that. One would be the president Fukuzawa on a very bad day, the other would be you... Unlike others, Ranpo hugs like that in only private. He wraps his shaky arms around your waist and buries his face near your shoulder or chest. He doesn't lift his head for a while, but you can feel his shivering and the wetness on you because of his tears. He may or may not cry aloud, but he will cry. He needs you to shield him from the world, maybe pat his head and whisper everything will be okay...

[l0ve-bug-m1les]

hii I was wondering if you could write a

miles morales x male! reader

where the two kiss because they’re curious about their sexuality and that leads to them finding out they aren’t exactly as straight as they initially thought

Ahhhh this is such a good idea!!! Thank you so much!!

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

The Answer Sitting in Front of Me

Miles Morales x Male!Reader

Summary: All questions have an answer to find. You just didn’t think you’d find yours in your best friends lips…

Warnings: No actual warnings, just two teenagers figuring themselves out!

It’s the final class of the day, and you’re struggling to stay awake. This isn’t like you, considering the fact you normally go to bed at a decent time so at the end of the day, you’re pretty awake. But today was different. Or rather, last night was different. Recently, you’ve been having…doubts about yourself. Specifically your sexuality. So to—hopefully—get your answer, you spent all night on Google searching up different tests, articles, and videos to answer your burning question. But alas, flashy Buzzfeed quizzes aren’t the remedy you hoped for. So now you’re just here. Tired, ready to get back to the dorms, and still unsure.

A crumpled up piece of paper lands onto your desk. You know exactly who it’s from as you open the note and read it.

"Hey, you don't look so good. Are you alright?”

“Damn, I look so tired you can tell from behind me..” You reply, and ball the note back up as you nonchalantly stretch your arms and drop the note onto his desk. This is how close you and Miles are. It’s easy to tell how the other is feeling just from body language. But at the same time, it wouldn’t take a genius to tell you’re pretty out of it today. You patiently wait for his reply as your teacher drones on and on about something you’ve forgotten about and, frankly, don’t care for. The note returns.

“Yeah. But for real, you’re normally pretty awake when we’re about to leave. What’s wrong?”

You think for a long time. You couldn’t possibly just tell him you’re going through a sexuality crisis! It’d put your relationship in jeopardy! A sigh escapes your lips as you try to think of a bluff, only to scrap the idea knowing Miles would catch it and hound you until you cave in. But what could you possibly say? “Oh, yeah, i think I’m gay and stayed up all night thinking about it. No biggie.” Yeah, right. But at the same time, he opened up to you about him being Spider-Man, so why can’t you just explain your problem to him? “Because he’d hate you.” is the lie your brain is plagued with. You know Miles isn’t homophobic and you know he’d probably just try to help you out. You’ve been through thick and thin with him. He can trust you, and you can trust him.

You realize you’re taking too long when another note flies onto your desk. You don’t read it and just answer the other one: “It’s kinda complicated. Swing by my room when you get a chance, alright?” You toss it back and refocus your attention to the lesson.

It'll be alright.

Right?

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

Time flies and you’re now sitting at your desk in your dorm. Your roommate’s off to who knows where, so you’re by yourself just waiting for that fateful tap on your window from Miles. Normally after school he’ll do some spider stuff before coming back and chilling out for the rest of the day, most of the time with you. That is, unless some guy tries to wreck havoc on Brooklyn, and it’s up to Miles to take them down. As much as it sucks when he has to leave, you admire how dedicated and passionate he is about doing what’s right and protecting what he loves most. You also appreciate how much he’s helped you throughout the school year. High school is no joke, and there have been some times when you felt like all was hopeless. But with Miles there, you came out of those slumps for the better. You also admire the way his eyes shine with that cheeky glow when he says an exceptionally cheesy joke, with that charming smile to go with it. And his kinda cute laugh and—

Oh no.

You groan and lean back in your chair. It’s those thoughts again. The very thoughts that have you so tired and confused. The line between admiration for guys and attraction towards guys has been blurred and now you’re not sure if there even is a difference for you. You close your eyes and continue to think before a shadow blocks out the sun and you hear a knock at the window. “Here we go..” you think to yourself as you unlock the window and open it for Miles.

"How you been?" Miles says as he steps through with that same sweet enthusiasm. He’s not in his Spider-Man suit so you figure all went well. “I’ve just been chilling out,” you say and sit back down, “nothing too exciting.”

He hums in response before taking a seat on your bed. “So what was it you needed to explain that was so complicated? Don’t tell me you’re having an identity crisis!” he jokes. You don’t smile because that’s exactly what it is. He notices the change in your demeanor and grows worried. “Ah..I see,” he looks over you for any hints as to what’s bothering you, “uhm…would you feel comfortable explaining?” he asks.

You take a long moment to think. Is this really a good idea? Should you even tell him? It’s not like you’re confessing to him so bad how could it be? You take a slow, long breath in, and release it just as slow. “I think….i think i like guys…” You finally say. “And i spent all night trying to figure that out, which is why i was so tired in class today.”

Well there it is. It’s out.

You both sat in silence and stared at each other for a long moment. Miles looked like he was in disbelief. Great, you blew it. You go to try and reverse the damage before Miles speaks up.

“Wait, really?! You too?!” He exclaims much to your surprise. You too? Wait so does he…

“You’ve been thinking the same thing?” You ask him.

“Yeah! Like, all the time!”

This is some news. You thought he was gonna try to leave and awkwardly forget about the situation. Never did you consider the possibility of him thinking the same thing. But now what? You know he’s possibly not straight like you, but what are you supposed to do with this information? Honestly you didn’t think you’d make this far. “So,” you speak up, “what now? I mean, we’ve got the same problem. How do we solve it?” A good move on your end. Not too leading, but leading enough to keep the conversation going without you both just changing the subject.

“Uhm…have you ever kissed a girl before?” He asks, his eyes avoiding yours.

“No, why?"

"Well, i was just thinking we could..." he trails off, hoping you get the memo.

"Think we could—“ you’re cut off by the realization hitting you— “Oh…i…get what you’re saying. Kiss and compare how it feels when we kiss a girl, right?”

He sheepishly nods. “Yeah, but neither of us have kissed a girl so it wouldn’t work.” His eyes fall to the floor, and you’re stuck looking at the wall. A kiss? Would that really work? Maybe neither of you need to have kissed a girl—or anyone else for that matter—to see compare how it feels when you kiss a boy. You’re a boy. He’s a boy. Why should you have any prior experience? But is it a good idea? What if you like it, but he doesn’t? There’s only one way to find out..

Forget words. You get up and stand in front of Miles. Your hands find a spot on his face and they stay there as you look deep into his eyes. A question. A silent way of asking for permission when words aren’t good enough. He nods and you lean in, gently bringing his face to yours.

After what feels like an eternity, your lips meet. At first you’re both hesitant, but it’s as if a spark went through you both as you relax and lean in to the kiss. Miles holds your hands on his face and let’s the kiss linger for a moment longer than you both thought it’d last. It’s the sweetest first kiss one could have. The world only starts to spin again when you both pull away, practically breathless.

"Did…did that answer your question?" Miles asks, his voice soft.

"Yeah. Did it answer yours?”

Miles nods and leans in again for another kiss with more confidence. His hands find yours and he brings you down onto the bed to sit beside him, before slowly pulling away again.

“Yeah…” he breathes.

You’re a lot more awake now.

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being a new member of the Red Hair pirates eleven years before the main plot

Benn: This is Hongo, the ship's doctor

Hongo: And who is this ravishing creature?

Benn: down boy, this is the rookie that Shanks dragged home.

Hongo: Oh you poor thing.

You: Shanks picked me for my combat abilities

Hongo: you must be strong then.

You: admittedly my strength is nowhere near the boss's level, but I can go toe to toe with a rear admiral in a fight.

Hongo: I see

Uta: don't sell yourself short, I watched you spar with papa, and he was getting winded. *Makes those grabbie hands that signal she wants you to pick her up*

You: thank you, and who are you if I might ask. *Picks her up*

Shanks: that is Uta, my adorable daughter.

Uta: I'm papa's favorite, and don't you forget it, I'm also the ship's musician.

You: really, what instrument do you play?

Uta: *gestures to her throat* my voice box, I'm a singer.

You: I eagerly await your next performance then.

Uta: wait no longer, places everyone! *Claps her hands*

Hongo, Yassop, and Lucky Roux: *scamper around to clear a spot and set up a stage for her*

You: (ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ) ???

Benn: *scoops Uta out of your arms and carries her to the stage*

Uta: (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ a song for the newbie *starts to sing*

Yassop: *puts a chair under you and gently pushes you into it*

Shanks: *moves his chair next to yours and leans in* isn't she so cute?

You: yes, she has such a beautiful voice. Do you and your men usually allow yourselves to be controlled by the whims of a child?

Benn: ... Yes, but only because we want to

After the song

Uta: *chilling in your lap* what'd you think?

You: you're an exceptionally talented singer, you must put a lot of work into it.

Uta: of course, practice makes perfect.

You: and you seem to have everyone here wrapped around your little finger. They must love you very much.

Uta: yes... I think they feel guilty, since my parents are dead.

Shanks: it's not that

Yassop: at least not entirely

You: I figured you were adopted.

Uta: what do you mean?

Shanks: how could you tell?

You: because she's talented,

The crew: (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠) ....

You: *quickly adds* at something besides fighting and debauchery.

The crew: *laughs*

Shanks: wow, already making cheap shots at your captain on your first day aboard. It's true, she's talented, she gets it from her mother. We do our best to make sure she's provided for, but there are still some areas we are lacking in.

Uta: yeah, like shopping

Benn: we take you shopping, literally every time we make port.

Uta: Yeah! But it is always to sleazy back alley joints where everything is second hand and not the designer shops that have cute new clothes. All because of papa's ugly mug has a bounty on it. Plus none of you have any sense of style, and can give me useful feedback on my outfits.

Shanks: well that's true, hey! You shouldn't call people, especially your poor father, ugly!

Benn: I have always wanted to take her to those shops too, our little girl would look so cute in those nice clothes.

You: I can take you, I don't have a bounty, and I know a little about fashion.

Uta: *looks over your outfit* your fashion sense, outwardly, appears to be less offensive to the eyes than papa's.

You: uh, thank you.

Shanks: Offensive? What about my outfit is offensive?

Uta: your shirt is wrinkly and stained, and your pants!... Don't even get me started on your pants.

Benn: allow me, they look like you made them out of someone's grandmother's couch.

Shanks: alright, thank you I get it.

You: *grumbles* Sandals are a little worse for wear as well.

Uta: *giggles*

Shanks: y'all are teaming up on me

Benn: yeah guys, he's only got one arm, it's downright unsporting.

List of Up-and-coming works

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[rhey-007]

The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P7 of Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader

• | social media au

Summary: You and Fernando finally make your relationship public.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader

A/N: Enjoy another part of The Mystery of Love. I know I was supposed to post it two weeks ago but I felt like shit and didn't manage to finish it... 😔 And I have to stop promising things, ik no one read them but still.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know! ☺

Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🥀 INSTAGRAM 🥀༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, maxverstappen1, landonorris and 15,824 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: finally managed to convince •fernandoalo_oficial for some dress up! 🤭🥰

•user1: Nando as a goth is something we all needed 😍

•user2: you guys slayed, as always!

•user3: real life Morticia and Gomes! 💞

•landonorris: DAMN! grandpa looking good!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: language!

→ •landonorris: sorry 🤭😋

→ •user3: Nando definitely mad over grandpa not damn lol

•user4: now the only thing we need is a goth family photo shoot! 😍

•user5: you're too old for this, it's just childish

→ •user6: oh shut up you know nothin

→ •user7: they're adults they can dress however they want

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☃️ INSTAGRAM ☃️༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by mickkschumacher, y/n._.l/n and 958 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, lance_stroll

•kl.au_s: ⛷️🏂🏔

•mickkschumacher: beautiful! next time I'm going with ya!

→ •user7: MICK NO!

→ •user8: HAVE YOU NOT LEARNT ANYTHING???

→ •user9: Fernando hasn't either....

→ •user10: no driver had.....

•lance_stroll: and to thinks pops still has strength for skiing 🤔

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: what are you talking about, I have lots of energy not only for skiing 😉

→ •kl.au_s: 💀

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌱 INSTAGRAM 🌱༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 85,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s

•aussiegrit: a little trip with friends 😃🏕🚴

•kl.au_s: UNCLE MARK NOOO BSJDHJRNDLSF

→ •aussiegrit: did I do something wrong? 😔

→ •user11: uncle?

→ •user12: just wait and he'll call Nando dad

•user13: IS THAT FERNANDO AND Y/N KISSING IN THE BACKGROUND???

→ •user14: oh my god it is!

•user15: 🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

→ •user16: Markie definitely should've put a spoiler alert 🫠

•user16: not Mark leaking what everyone already knew 😭

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍷 INSTAGRAM 🍷༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by aussiegrit, jensonbutton and 10,985 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lance_stroll

•y/n._.l/n: I'm not a fan of big birthday parties but I couldn't be more grateful for Fernie and the boys throwing a HUUUGE dinner just for me and accept me and my sons into their racing family. I love all of you, but especially my boo Fernando 🥰💞 Thank you once again!

(ans please don't come for Mark, he tried his best :) )

•user17: FINALLY

•user18: couldn't you announce it earlier? It was so obvious from the very beginning

→ •user19: chill, maybe they just didn't feel like it

•user20: exactly, not everyone has to be ready for something like this right away

•jensonbutton: for what this announcement? 🤨didn't everyone already know?

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🤦‍♀️

•susiewolff: Congrats on finally getting the courage to tell the world! 💞

•aussiegrit: amazing party!

→ •landonorris: of course it was! after all I was the one who organized it 💅

→ •carlossainz55: oi! you didn't do it alone! > : (

→ •maxverstappen1: exactly!

→ •oscarpiastri: kids calm down 🙄

→ •y/n._.l/n: exactly.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍾 INSTAGRAM 🍾༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, carlossainz55 and 105,627 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, carlossains55, oscarpiastri, landonorris, lance_stroll

•fernandoalo_oficial: sweet 40 🤭🥳🎉💝

•aussiegrit: best party ever!

•user21: that looks so fun 😭😩

•user22: Y/N looking exceptionally good! ���

→ •user23: as she always does 😍👑

•y/n._.l/n: thank you baby! ☺😘

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: everything for you honey~ ❤

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💘 INSTAGRAM 💘༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lilimhe and 17,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official

•y/n._.l/n: I'm so glad I've met you 💞

•lilimhe: yes mama!!! you two are so cuuuute!

→ •y/n._.l/n: you and Alex too!!! 😘

→ •alex_albon: of course we are! 😁 <3

•fernandoalo_oficial: I'm glad I met you too mi gusanito ❤🧡💛💚💙💜 (my little bug)

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🥰

→ •kl.au_s: 🤢🤮

→ •y/n._.l/n: KLAUS!

→ •kl.au_s: 🫣

→ •user23: not Klaus ruining this cute moment xD

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💋 INSTAGRAM 💋༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, sebastianvettel and 156,256 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n

•fernandoalo_oficial: mi vida, mi alma, mi amor, mi hermosa, mi cariño 💘 (my life, my soulmate, my love, my beautiful, my sweety)

•kl.au_s: I swear to God you guys are GROSS 💀

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: could say the same bout you and Bluebell 🧍‍♀️

→ •kl.au_s: oh shut up, at least we ain't kissing everywhere we go >:(

•landonorris: I think I'm to young for such photos...

•maxverstappen1: jeez pops calm down! we know you love her!

•user24: that is a really nice photoshoot

→ •user25: those photos gonna be def used in fanfics XD

•sebasrianvettel: so happy for you two!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Tag list: @morgan-getty @lichterfee @ashy-kit @champomiel

[jamilelucato]

The Writer and The Illustrator (Part 01)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Miss [y/n] Summary: Miss [y/n] is not your average young lady, for she is also W. Jabber, a talented writer who challenges societal norms. All was well until her publisher presented her with a new challenge—to write a children's book disguised for adult readers and to have it illustrated. And to help her with the task, she knows only one good painter in London. Age rating: although this chapter is pretty chill for younger audiences, the next parts will have more explicit scenes, so let's keep it 18+. Author's note: I said I'd be back with the Bridgerton boys, and here I am! Benedict, for the win! Hope you guys like it! (Part 02 here!) To read Anthony's fic, click here! For other stories, click here. Enjoy! Miss [y/n] was a writer. A good one, she dared add. Of course, that was unnoticed by the people of the ton, who would not have appreciated female writing, even if it was that great.

For that precise reason, Miss [y/n] prospered in a secret double life, where she was a pleasant lady by day and a fierce author by night. Her publisher was the only man she considered a friend since he knew her true identity and was present in both parts of her life. Needless to say, such an intelligent and refined man, capable of admiring penmanship made by a woman, would already have a wife. And would be dangerously too old to be anything more than an extra father figure in Miss [y/n] 's history.

Being close and such, Mister Brendy often challenged [y/n] 's writing abilities, encouraging her to try new styles in every new book. He'd often advise her towards writing the genre most wanted by the public at that specific time, and [y/n] was always quick to agree — as she held Mr Brendy's opinions very highly. Also, her family desperately needed the money [y/n] provided anonymously. Pretending it was a subsidy presented by an old aunt from the country, the young woman allowed her family some great comfort; furthermore, she permitted herself the luxury of new dresses every season.

"Good afternoon, Mr Brendy. How are you this evening?"

The sky wasn't fully dark when Miss [y/n] popped into the tiny printer's shop, but she was confident enough that nobody followed her in; thus, she modelled no cape or undistinguished clothing. She was merely herself before her old chum and a couple more teen-boy workers.

"Very well, dear," the printer replied, holding a modest smile. Mr Brendy had gently round features, and his smile, even the smallest ones, was exceptionally pleasant to witness. "Hope you're ready to hear your next challenge."

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't, Mr Brendy," she answered, lowering her eyes to the papers over his table, looking for clues to his oncoming request. Most authors did not enjoy working with demands, but [y/n] thrived with them, and she was Mr Brendy's favourite because of it.

"Well, have you how many nephews and nieces again? I always forget; I'm sorry," Mr Brendy got up and walked towards Miss [y/n]'s chair.

"No need to be sorry, Mr Brendy — I, sometimes, forget as well," she smiled. "I currently have three nephews and one baby niece. She's such a lovely newborn!"

The gentleman placed his hands in his trouser pockets, scratching his throat before saying, "Yes, newborns are usually a delight—a blessing."

"Couldn't agree more," Miss [y/n] couldn't help her anxiety taking the best of herself. "But what does my siblings' offspring have to do with my upcoming, in need of writing, book?" 

After another scratch of his throat, Mr Brendy finally spoke his true intentions. "Do you remember when you found me shivering from the rain outside and asked if I could publish your first book? And even cold, you managed to make all these demands regarding our partnership?"

"Of course, I remember! I was a baby lassie of fifteen years of age, but wasn't I a captivating writer even then?" Miss [y/n] was only joking but noticed that Mr Brendy wasn't less tense. "Does this talk have something to do with my demands? Do you need to lower my percentage of profit?"

Dear God, she hoped not.

"Nothing of such. Your books are bestsellers, Miss [y/n]. Money is not the problem," he said. "However, your other contract demand... The one where you work alone..."

"Yes?" she was desperately nervous.

"Would you be able to make an exception?"

There was silence in the room. It felt like even the employees outside the tiny office were muted, waiting for her answer.

"I'm sorry, Mr Brendy, but what are you implying? You want me to write in association with another author, is that it?"

"Not another author per se," he gritted his teeth, and the noise startled Miss [y/n]. "No," he restarted, "I don't want your writing to get jumbled up. You have a magnetic way of putting words to paper; I would never allow anyone else to interfere with that."

"Thank you," she said, happy for the compliment, though confused about how to respond. Mr Brendy was a good man, but he rarely presented free praise.

"I want you to work partnered with a painter, an illustrator. See, this is where your nephews come to action — children's books are the latest fashion, the genre bestseller of the hour. We have no author good enough to conquer that style the way we want," he paused, "— at least no better writer than you."

She was flattered but primarily confused. Her books weren't for children. Under the name of W. Jabber, she published pieces about politics and devotion, death and art, but all of that over a darker tone, very adult if you dare. What would be her place when speaking to children? What story could she have stored to tell those little kids rushing to a bookshop, looking for the newest realise?

"I want you to write a children's story the way only you could — designed for the parents. I want it perfectly disguised so that, when a parent fetches the book — tediously and only doing it for the quietness of their offspring — they get stunned to find out the narrative is very well made for them as much as the child."

"You reckon I could write such a thing?" she asked in a second of bravery. "I don't think I can."

"Upon rereading your latest, my dear, I discovered that if anyone can, it is you," he said. "When I first read Storms of Love, I could never have deduced the novel was about the Priest falling in love with his bastard son. At first glance, the story felt like a mother missing her son when he decided to go to seminary!"

She pressed her lips together, feeling shy. It was a horrible habit, as the lady knew she looked dreadful when she did it, but she couldn't help it. How many times, during balls, did she have to hear people praising her without knowing that Jabber was [y/n]?

"Again, thank you, Mr Brendy. You know I adore compliments," Miss [y/n] tried to smile, but she couldn't disguise her dismay. "Regardless, I…"

"I would never force you, Miss [y/n]!" the printer rushed closer to her, taking the liberty of placing a hand on her covered shoulder. "But before you say anything, know that the illustrator would be one of your selections, and we could do the whole interaction anonymously if you so desire."

"It's not the teamwork that unnerves me, Mr Brendy, but the writing of a children's book for adults." Miss [y/n] stared deep into Mr Brendy's eyes, but that was a wrong choice. His big, green eyes stared at her back, filled with hope for her to accept. How could she say no to the older man who knew her more than her father?

She placed her hand over his on her shoulder before saying, "Do you truly believe I am the best option for this chef-d'oeuvre? It takes courage to defy society with a youngsters' novel."

He smiled in that way only a proud grandparent could. "Yes, I believe you can."

After the conversation with Mr Brendy, Miss [y/n] at least managed to secure the illustrator would be her pick and not be some random person chosen by the printer.

That was exceptionally tricky, however. [y/n] did not know a bunch of painters — at least not enough that were indeed talented for her intentions or kind souls that would not reveal her identity. She did not want to be Lady Whistledown's next victim.

Miss [y/n] came up with one name and one name only. It was the only name not crossed from her list made in the dim candlelight of past midnight.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Thorny indeed. Could she trust him?

She and her parents had been friends with the Bridgerton family for years now, and Francesca was what [y/n] could call her best long-distance friend, but how far did she know Benedict?

He was a second son, which did not help his reputation, but there was no denying he was a gentleman and a remarkable artist. They used to play together at Aubrey Hall when they were both too young to feel ashamed.

Benedict was her friend, at least as far as being friends with a man could go for a single lady.

Subsequently, Miss [y/n] waited for the promised ball Lady Danbury would throw for the people of the ton, anxious to see if Benedict would say yes to her proposition and not tell anyone her little secret.

"Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]," said Lady Danbury, appearing out of thin air beside the young lady, "you look nervous. What for, my dear?"

[y/n] swallowed hard. "Do I? I suppose I could look like that, but I promise I'm fine as a horse."

"If that horse is about to go racing," said the old lady sharply. "Seriously, sweetie, entertain me. I fear this is the first ball I throw where nothing good happens. It starts to hurt this hostess's feelings, you know."

"Lady Danbury, well, if you must know…." [y/n] was certainly not about to tell her the real reason beyond her nervous appearance. Lady Danbury was a lady of gossip, and that was the last thing [y/n] needed. "My mama, just yesterday…" started [y/n], but she never managed to finish her lie because Lady Danbury interrupted her with a yell.

"Mister Bridgerton!" 

Oh, Christ. [y/n] felt like she was all wet with sweat. What were the odds?

"Mister Bridgerton!" shouted the old lady again, this time prolonging the last name of the gentleman walking by.

"You know, Lady Danbury, I'm not obliged to answer since there are three 'Mister Bridgerton' alive at the moment," said Benedict, stopping closer with a grin. "Two of them are at this party right at this moment."

Lady Danbury hit him with her cane, and the gentleman pretended to feel pain beyond what he must have felt. "Very funny, Mr Bridgerton, but we both know one of them isn't even old enough to be called mister."

"Yes indeed; Colin is a not fully formed child, but I rather only Bridgertons talk about that," he joked.

Only when his giggle ceased did the tallest Bridgerton siblings notice Miss [y/n]'s presence. It was a bit embarrassing for her, as she was staring at him laughing and how magnificent he looked — so relaxed that his hair moved with the movement of his chest. She had to tilt her head quite a lot to face him, so there was no covering her gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. I did not see you there."

"Clearly," Lady Danbury whispered in her condescending tone, making her sound like a teenager.

"Good evening, Mr Bridgerton," Miss [y/n] said, ignoring Lady Danbury's comment and smiling at the gentleman before her. She had been looking for him after all.

"And now you two have been officially introduced," said Lady Danbury surly, allowing no interruptions. "Can I finally talk to you, Mr Bridgerton, about what I wanted?"

"You, calling upon me, had a reason!" said the Bridgerton man at the same time Miss [y/n] burst: "We knew each other already!"

"Oh, all right," Lady Danbury sighed, defeated. Benedict and [y/n] smiled, feeling victorious — but Benedict's smile was broader. "Mr Bridgerton, I insist on talking to you as I'm sure you must be anxious to meet my niece."

"Your niece?" he echoed.

"Yes, the one coming from Chester," continued the old lady. "Winnie Danbury. You had heard about her coming, yes?"

Lady Danbury's eyes seemed challenging as if asking for one of them to deny her tellings, as [y/n] was sure no one mentioned Miss Winnie before. However, they both stayed silent, agreeing with a head shake.

"Miss Winnie Danbury," said [y/n], testing the name, "is it her first time here in London?"

Lady Danbury moved her body to face Miss [y/n] as she had partially forgotten about the girl's presence. [y/n] was a charm; the old lady had only good things to say about her, but sometimes the Miss would rather stay in a corner barely lit, which infuriated Lady Danbury. Miss [y/n] was a beauty; she needed to be seen more often — even if society didn't agree with the elderly lady.

"Yes, it is," replied the aunt. "Oh, she's beautiful, Mr Bridgerton. And so talented! Did you know she plays five different instruments?"

Of course she does, [y/n] thought, sighing to herself. The anonymous writer dreamed of playing an instrument or, at least, being able to draw. She'd like to have another artistic talent besides writing. It was well viewed when a woman played wonderfully and even painted; it all did better than writers. Writing for a woman was like talking to the devil; her great-uncle had told her once when she'd suggested she had some talent for it.

"Lady Danbury, it will, undoubtedly, be a pleasure to meet another member of your family," said the gentleman.

"Especially if she's like you," whispered [y/n], afraid her tone sounded too provocative for the old lady's ears.

"But," continued Benedict, pretending not to have heard the young woman's comment, although the left corner of his mouth indicated otherwise, "is there any reason you should be offering your niece to me?"

"Why, yes! You are the oldest Bridgerton bachelor at the moment," said Lady Danbury and turned to Miss [y/n] before restarting, "and it would be a lovely match, wouldn't it?"

[y/n] had no reason to disagree.

"Of course. A Danbury with a Bridgerton, the missing couple in London."

Lady Danbury smiled as if she knew more than those young fools, and touching Benedict with her cane, she began to depart.

"I'll leave you alone, as I feel that my mission here is already complete."

"Oh no, please," Benedict pronounced sarcastically, "stay and tell us more about Miss Winnie."

But Lady Danbury had already turned away and walked away from the two of them, focusing her attention on Penelope Featherington, who was creeping through the room, trying hard not to be noticed.

Mr Bridgerton looked immediately unnerved by the noble lady's departure as if he didn't know what to say to Miss [y/n] [y/l/n]. And he didn't.

The two had known each other for a while and were even good friends, but she remained an unmarried woman in the presence of an unmarried man, and alone, the two seldom exchanged words. They were sharp when doubled against another Bridgerton or one of her brothers, but Benedict had always seen her as just one of the women of the ton.

She had her appeal, a magnificence in disguise. For example, she didn't take anyone's breath away but wasn't ugly to look at. In addition, she had more prominent curves than other women, a virtue when it came to her cleavage but a flaw when considering her corset region.

Benedict never judged her for that. On the contrary, he liked knowing she had something he could hold onto.

No.

He didn't like it.

Why exactly am I thinking about Miss [y/n]'s curves? The gentleman chastised himself. Forget it before you say something foolish!

Miss [y/n] noticed the dreadful hush and decided to speak first since she had something to say.

"Mr Bridgerton, I... I'd like to have a word with you," she felt her cheeks flush with nervousness. "In a less... crowded place."

Benedict gulped. So he spoke aloud. Bollocks.

"I have a business proposition. Perhaps it will interest you," she resumed, relieving Benedict immediately. "You still paint, yes?"

"Yes," he replied overly quickly.

"And you draw?"

"Well, yes." The gentleman stopped talking to reminisce. Would she like a portrait? Strange. No one hired painters during balls, and never, ever should a single lady ask a gentleman for a painting (at least not if she wasn't interested in the man himself).

Does she have an interest unrevealed? He thought but renounced the idea. It was [y/n] who stood before him. The same girl who played in the mud and one day made fun of him for having such fragile hands.

She had no interest in Benedict other than his artistic gifts.

"Need a painting, Miss?"

"Not precisely…" She looked nervous. "Can you pace with me to the refreshment table?" she asked, walking over to it before hearing him nod. It was the least guarded place in the salon at that moment.

He followed her, for he was too curious to drop it.

"How would you feel…" she started saying after analysing their surround "if it was offered to you a chance to illustrate a book?"

"A book?" he echoed, a bit too loud.

[y/n] waited a bit before continuing.

"A children's book, but adults can deeply interpret it."

"That's rather specific," he pointed out. So what was the meaning of all that? How was [y/n] in any power to offer him such a proposition?

"Mr Bridgerton, I simply want to know if you could be interested. If you are not, then I'll never mention it again," she said, her voice slightly shaky, even though she was playing chilliness.

Benedict took a step further, thinking she was out of her mind and only his closeness could bring her to her senses. "How can you do me such an offer, Miss? As I recall, your father is not in the editing, writing and printing business."

She closed her eyes tight, not believing she was about to confess to Benedict Bridgerton.

"But I am."

"Yeah, right," snorted the Bridgerton gentleman, crossing his arms in front of his chest. But [y/n] stayed utterly silent; she didn't dare utter a word, and Benedict could not stare at her big, closed eyes for that long without wondering: who was she? He was momentarily sure he didn't know. "[y/n]?" he called her, daring, in a whisper, to utter her first name.

[y/n] opened her eyes, surprised that Benedict had used her first name. She had always thought of him as Mr. Bridgerton, the handsome and charming gentleman whom society's most eligible ladies always surrounded. But now, she was asking him for help and needed to trust him with her secret.

"Yes, it's true," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm W. Jabber, the author of several books. I published under a male pseudonym."

Benedict was stunned. He had heard of W. Jabber's work and greatly admired "his" writing. He had no idea that the author was Miss [y/l/n], the girl he had known since childhood. He looked at her, seeing her in a new light. She was not just the girl who played in the mud; she was a talented writer who broke society's rules to pursue her passion.

"I had no idea," he said, his voice full of awe.

"I know," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's not something I can share with many people."

"And you want me to illustrate your next book?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his childhood friend was a published author.

"Yes," she said, her eyes shining with excitement. "I've been working on a new book, and I think your illustrations would be perfect for it."

Benedict smiled, feeling honoured that she had asked him. "I'd love to help you," he said. "But how will we do it in secret? We can't let anyone know."

"I have a plan," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Meet me tomorrow at the park, and I'll tell you all about it."

Benedict nodded, feeling a sense of excitement at the thought of working with [y/n] on a secret project. He had always admired her intelligence and wit, but now he saw a new side that intrigued him even more.

As they returned to the salon, Benedict couldn't help but wonder what other secrets Miss [y/n] [y/l/n] was hiding. But for now, he was content to focus on their new project, a collaboration that would push the boundaries of society and showcase their talents in a way that no one else could.

[swifty-fox]

There is a coyote who follows John Egan, only sometimes it’s a man too. Pale-eyed pale-haired a washed-out shape against the desert. The man-beast follows him from Clovis to Albuquerque and right on back. At night when John lays curled by his fire, he sleeps with a gun in hand and Zigags reins hooked round his ankle lest the sweet whispers of his Not-Coyote lures the mare away. 

Voice that reeks of iron and copper blood, sweet as a devil and horrible as an angel. 

Come away, come away, dance in the desert with me sweet-blooded man. Come sweet horse with your fat succulent flesh, run under the moonlight until your lungs give out. 

At every town John takes refuge with the local parish, prays when he wakes and before he sleeps and ignores the mournful howling that haunts him until he returns to his cattle. Every town he asks the pastor about demons, every town tells him to Pray Harder my Son. 

If I prayed with any more frequency or vigor I’d take over your damn job, Father, John thinks every time. 

In the scrublands the coyote who wasn’t a coyote circles his cattle. Its eyes glow a stunning blue and make John’s nose bleed when he holds contact for too long. Too tall to be a canid, tall as a man, only visible as a delicate limbed silhouette against the stars. John closes his eyes and prays, decides not to stop for the night and ties himself to the saddle lest he fall asleep. Come morning he’s lost three head and the rough hemp rope has chafed his thighs bloody. But the beast seems satisfied for now, retreating from the shadows of the campfire to follow a few miles behind. Never fully gone, but well fed for now. 

At night the whispers are mournful, still smelling of blood and raw meat. 

The desert is cold, cold cold cold. My bones are cold cold cold. Won’t you warm them, traveler, won’t you let me sit by your fire sweet-blood?

John knew better than to speak to the desert, for all its voice was warm and rumbling. He sleeps again in his saddle, makes his way into town and collapses into bed at the local inn, and sleeps for two days. Not even the howls rouse him this time and his slumber saves him from the murmured unease of the townsfolk. He sells a few steer, rests his horse, and his cattle, and takes communion from the local Parish every morning in hopes of flushing out this specter. 

He makes his way up to Raton just shy of Colorado to hook up with the rest of the herd and offloads half their stock. The other guys have begun steering clear of him, unwilling to share a campfire with a wraith and a man marked for death. John doesn’t care, not really. He’s here to sell Harding’s stock and make it back to the ranch by winter. He’s not lonely neither, he has ZigZag and he has his spectre. And it’s not much of a chatty thing except when it’s hungry or the night becomes exceptionally chill.

Aren’t you tired, sweet-blood? Don’t you need rest? Close your eyes, close them tight let me have just a taste, just a nibble. 

John buys a rosary. Buys a second one. Wears them ‘round his neck even when he bathes. Naked in the river, he floats and tries to ignore the clever canine face neatly blending into the sandy rocks save for pale turquoise eyes. Hungry eyes, hungry teeth that dripped thin watery blood now and then. When he returns to the river bank he finds a jackrabbit slaughtered and laid out on its back, limbs sprawled in a way that felt deliberately arranged. He stares for a long time, long enough for the flies to gather. Only they don’t, and the blood on the corpse doesn’t dry and pale eyes watch him from the opposite shore and a breeze ruffles his hair bringing with it the scent of cinnamon and blood. - Halloween Horror Clegan WIP

[justalost4girl]

Two

One Word Count: 2752 taglist: @langedelalune @esposadejoyhuerta @scarlettbitchx

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Luke's POV

✧ ˚ 　· 　　

One year earlier

Our sources alert that a certain spider has cast its webs. We count on your presence at our annual arachnid meeting, which will exceptionally take place today at 2 PM for exclusive details about this new species that attacks under the light. More information about the location is attached in the email. We await you there.”

Luke took his eyes off the screen and looked around the room. A spacious, elegantly decorated office, with a panoramic view of the sky through the floor-to-ceiling windows. An Italian leather sofa set rested in the center of the room, surrounded by handcrafted chairs with intricate details he imagined had been designed by hand. His own desk was cluttered with luxurious items of uncertain origin, extravagant gifts from the Hydra Corp’s head of data. Damn Hydra, with its dark history of human experiments, deep-rooted prejudices, and flawless marketing that made them appear as the good guys.

He reread the email, feeling a chill down his spine. The code might pass unnoticed by inexperienced eyes, but he knew what it meant. "Spider" referred to the legendary SHIELD spy who worked tirelessly to dismantle Hydra. Luke was in her crosshairs for his association with the organization.

The idea of Hydra being dismantled wasn’t entirely unpleasant to him. Deep down, Luke bitterly regretted every contract he had ever signed with them. But he would do anything not to return to the life of poverty he had before. He typed a response confirming his presence at the meeting when two knocks on the door caught his attention. He ran his hands over his face, trying to hide his worries.

A young woman appeared at the door, shy.

Always shy.

"Come in, Newton. What do you need?" He asked, picking up the stress ball his analyst threw at him.

"Stop with all this formality, I just came to ask for your feedback on my code. I want to leave on time today to have our coffee." You said, smiling excitedly. Newton's presence always brought a sense of normalcy to your chaotic life, and he wouldn't trade those coffee afternoons with you for almost anything in the world, but he needed to. Now he was about to be dragged even further into the web of intrigue involving Hydra and SHIELD and he would never forgive himself if he put you, who reminded him of himself, at risk.

Luke almost felt guilty seeing your face light up with expectation. "No coffee today, I'm afraid. There's a last-minute meeting." He said, watching your expression fall.

You sighed and nodded resignedly. "Alright, but tomorrow it's on you." And he tossed the stress ball back to you.

"See you tomorrow, Newton." You smiled sadly and left the room towards the café. He sighed and grabbed his keys, making his way to the address from the email that was about to change his life.

Luke arrived at the building early, his heart beating faster than usual. The building was extravagant and discreet at the same time, as if every detail of the décor had been meticulously planned not to reveal the kind of people who frequented the place. He walked through the luxurious lobby, his eyes capturing the Persian rugs, the impressionist paintings on the walls, and the strategically positioned designer furniture to impress without being ostentatious.

Entering the conference room, Luke sat down and was handed a tablet with several photographs. One in particular caught his attention: a red-haired woman with a piercing gaze. Before he could ask who she was, a severe-looking man sat down in front of him and began to speak.

"Her name is Natasha Romanoff," the man said, pointing to the photo. "She's known as the Black Widow. We have information that she's been frequenting the café where you usually go, observing our movements for weeks."

Luke felt a chill run down his spine. Natasha Romanoff was the name behind the codename that terrified any Hydra collaborator, and now she was closer than he had imagined.

"Our advice is that you avoid that café from now on. She's extremely dangerous, and we're certain she's plotting something big," the counter-spy continued. "We also want to discuss another matter. We have an ongoing plan, and we'll need your cooperation when the time comes. You'll be rewarded."

Luke nodded, absorbing the information. The idea of being targeted by one of the world's most notorious spies unsettled him, but he knew he had no choice but to cooperate. He took notes on Hydra's new project and once again felt the weight of his choices that day, but Luke could handle it, he always does.

Or so he thought.

The next day, while talking to you, Luke returned to his office with his hands on his chest, unable to breathe. "Nat…" He muttered to himself. The association was immediate and disturbing. Natasha Romanoff, the spy he had been warned about just the day before… Every detail matched the enthusiastic description of yours "soul mate". The red hair, the penetrating green eyes, the captivating presence.

He bit his tongue so hard not to scream that he tasted metal, yet he didn't care. What was supposed to be just a data sale had put you in danger, and you had no idea.

With his mind racing, he knew he needed to act quickly. Luke picked up the phone and dialed a number he hoped he'd never have to use. "We need to meet. It's urgent," he said, his voice tense. "The spider has spun its web around my analyst. We need to protect her."

☆。*。☆。

Six months earlier

"A bait," Alex's low voice referring to you was etched in Luke's brain. "The girl will be bait. Let Natasha think she's in control, let her go in the direction we want. If everything goes well, we can get rid of two problems at once and If she really falls in love, it will be easier."

Those words echoed in Luke's mind as he walked alongside you towards the café. He saw your happiness on display and deeply wished he could tell the truth with every step they took together. But he couldn't risk putting you in danger, not when everything was so delicately planned.

Sitting at the table with Natasha, Luke watched each interaction with a mix of admiration and apprehension. He admired how well you and Natasha got along, but knew that behind that smile, a much more dangerous game was unfolding, and deep down he hoped her feelings were genuine because Luke would always root for your happiness.

When the call interrupted their brief moment of normalcy, Luke returned to reality with a heavy heart. He needed to maintain control of the situation, protect you, and ensure the Hydra plan moved forward as planned.

Luke answered the call with a growing sense of urgency in his chest. It was Alex on the other end, his contact/mentor, and the words he heard made him tense.

"A trip," Alex began, using a calculated tone. "It's time to put the plan into action. I need you three in Seattle in a week, I've taken care of everything."

Luke felt a chill run down his spine. The trip to Seattle wasn't just a routine work task; it was a crucial part of the plan to neutralize Natasha's operations. He took a deep breath, focusing on keeping calm as he absorbed the gravity of the situation—he would be responsible for ending the girlfriend of his favorite person.

"Understood," Luke replied, his voice firm. "We'll prepare. Natasha will be with us?" He asked to confirm, praying he would say no. Neutralizing Natasha was bad enough, doing it in front of you was worse.

"Yes, and your Newton too," Alex confirmed. "She needs to be there. Make sure she's fully involved, but keep it discreet."

Luke nodded, even though Alex couldn't see him. He knew there was a lot at stake, and every step needed to be carefully planned to avoid any complications.

"Understood," Luke repeated, ending the call and returning to his seat at the table. Coming back near you and Natasha, he tried to disguise the tension as he shared the news of the trip. Natasha's reaction wasn't surprising to him; he knew she would see this as an opportunity to investigate him further.

Her suggestion of wanting to participate wasn't unexpected, but he couldn't let her suspect, so he pretended to oppose the idea. Luke left a brief pause hanging in the air, waiting for Natasha's response. He knew that if she agreed to go, it would make his task of keeping her close and under control easier. And when you asked for his permission with that loving look, he knew he had a lot to apologize to you for.

End of Luke's POV

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☆。*。☆。

Five months earlier…

It was the last day of the trip, and Natasha was elated. She had managed to plant listening devices in Luke's meeting room after catching him off guard. Thanks to you, she knew the client would come that afternoon to sign Luthor Corp's final security agreement. With access to the cameras and audio, she could prove it was all a front for selling data to Hydra, and she was there to serve justice. Surely, you shouldn't hate her. Fury would be pleased too, of course. It would be good for her reputation.

Obviously, the gorgeous woman sitting across from her, with Star Wars boots contrasting perfectly with a form-fitting jumpsuit, wasn't the only reason to celebrate the likely success of the plan. You noticed her scrutiny and smiled at the woman who had stolen your heart and left you marked from the previous night, requiring almost a ton of makeup on your neck.

Ten minutes late, Luke arrives dressed in a luxurious black suit and makes his way over to hug you gently, conveying a mix of excitement and unease you had never seen in him before. "Newton, you look stunning, but I'm afraid you won't be joining the meeting today. And since we have a free schedule tomorrow, you're free to enjoy the rest of the day with Nat."

You furrow your brow and look at him, surprised. "Really? Luke, this is unexpected. I've prepared for this meeting."

He smiled, a melancholic gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know, but it's our last night here. I want you two to have a good time, really soak in what the city has to offer."

Natasha felt a slight discomfort, her trained agent instincts alerting her to the sudden change in plans. "Luke, are you sure? It doesn't sound good for the clients not to follow through with the…"

Luke cut her off with a serious look. "I know, Nat. But I trust you both to enjoy the city on my behalf. Trust me on this."

Natasha smiled and glanced at you, pondering for a moment. Some time alone, carefree, was a rare thing. "Alright. A night to unwind wouldn't be bad. Let's find something to do and a nice place to dinner. Thank you, Luke."

Luke nodded, hiding his concerns beneath a mask of determination. "You deserve this night. Enjoy it." He shook Natasha's hand for the first time. “Take care of her,” she nods , finding everything very suspicious.

Luke turned to you, holding your face. “You're brilliant, Newton, and the best friend I've ever had. Never forget that.”

You don't notice, but Luke holds you a little tighter.

✧♬•¨•.｡

The city pulsed with life as Natasha took you to explore lively bars and clubs in the area. The atmosphere of the business trip now felt distant, replaced by the excitement of a promising night

. Natasha chose a bustling bar where the sound of live music filled the space. She led you to a strategic spot near the dance floor, where the vibrant rhythm seemed inviting.

"Shall we dance a bit?" Natasha suggested, with a playful smile on her lips.

Dancing wasn’t exactly your thing, but you liked pleasing Natasha. "Sure, for you, Natasha."

You join the crowd moving to the rhythm of the music. Natasha completely let loose, dancing gracefully and energetically, attracting curious looks and occasional admirers.

She becomes the center of the party within minutes.

You, being a bit more reserved, let yourself be carried away by the engaging rhythm, following Natasha's steps with concentrated effort. Natasha, noticing your hesitation, smiles and adjusts her rhythm to something more accessible.

Between songs, Natasha leads you to a quieter corner of the bar where you can talk without shouting over the loud music.

"You did really well on the dance floor," Natasha praised, a sparkle of admiration in her eyes.

You laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thanks, but I definitely need more practice, I still haven't learned…"

She cuts you off with a kiss because your Nat has this habit of interrupting you before you can say something negative about yourself.

Nat tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, studying you with curiosity. "Are you having fun?"

Nodding with a genuine smile, you kiss her and whisper, "Yes, I am. Thank you for bringing me here, Nat.”

And your lips meet as your bodies sway to the music.

You decide to end the night at a restaurant near the hotel, which Luke had recommended that morning. After dinner and two bottles of wine, you leave the restaurant together and notice the rain falling softly, painting the pavement with silvery reflections.

Natasha, noticing that you were starting to shiver slightly, took off her coat and placed it on your shoulders with a gentle smile.

"I don't want you catching a cold," the redhead said tenderly, adjusting the coat around you and placing her hands in her pockets.

A bit more relaxed after the wine, you laughed and agreed, feeling cozy under Natasha's coat. You hugged her tighter, savoring the scent of the woman you love.

As you walked back to the hotel, both of your phones vibrated simultaneously. You stopped and pulled out your phone, noticing an email from Luke. Opening it, you were confused and slightly disturbed by his words: an apology for getting you involved with Natasha because of him, and an attachment. You looked up and saw Natasha's eyes gleaming at her phone.

Something didn’t feel right, and it was as if the alcohol evaporated from your body at exactly 1:58 AM.

The rain began to fall harder, forming a translucent veil around you both. Natasha looked at you with a soft, sincere expression. She seemed incredibly happy. You didn’t understand. In an impulse, Natasha gently cupped your face in her hands and kissed you deeply and softly. The rain fell around you while the moment seemed to freeze in time.

You placed your hands on Natasha's shoulders, gently caressing for a minute as you gave in to the moment, still dazed. Natasha broke the kiss for a moment, smiling tenderly as she looked into Newton's eyes.

"I love you, Newton," Natasha whispered, letting the words float between you in the night rain. You told her you loved her too, and she hugged you, her heartbeat loud in your ears. The email could be opened later; all you wanted now was the eternal company of your Nat.

The moment of intimacy was abruptly interrupted by the screeching sound of tires skidding and metal crashing violently against a nearby pole. A car, speeding, veered towards you, swerving at the last second and skidding across the wet pavement before colliding violently.

Dazed by the shock and the deafening noise, you saw the car shatter against the pole.

A familiar car.

Instinctively, you moved towards the accident site, your heart pounding wildly. Then, a scream of horror escaped your lips.

Natasha, driven by Newton's scream, ran to her, her own feelings of shock and fear mirrored on her face. She knelt beside Newton, her eyes widening at the terrible scene before them. The sight of Luke's and a Hydra spy's lifeless bodies in the twisted wreckage terrified her, and Natasha didn’t know what to do other than hold you tighter.

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Part 3 Let me know what you think :)

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 29/05

Anonymous asked: Having the car available as an alchemy ingredient now, what should John make first? ~DJ

John has unlocked the ability to fly, but I don't think he's as fast as he was with the jetpack. I think his best option is to merge it with Dad's automobile to create the Jetson Car.

Anonymous asked: the actor who played rufio in hook did his own homestuck liveblog back in the day. when he got to this part he was Somewhat Perturbed. @morganwick asked: Fun fact: around the end of Act 5, Dante Basco, who played Rufio in Hook, started a Tumblr and was immediately besieged by Homestucks pushing him to read the comic. So he started liveblogging it. Take a guess which scene everyone, including Hussie, was waiting for him to get to more than any other.

I can't believe I'm competing with Zuko himself on the Homestuck Liveblogging stage. How the hell can I measure up to that?

@wickedsick asked: The best part about the Wallet is that it's a physical object: you can give it to other people, send it across the tubes, and even store it inside another modus!

It really is a shockingly useful and versatile modus.

With this, his absurd physical stats, and his obvious determination, I feel like Dad would be an exceptionally talented Player.

@manorinthewoods submitted: >John is an immortal God >Still applies seatbelt, because safety is important ~LOSS (24/5/24) Anonymous asked: Obviously there is some deep, hidden classpect meaning to the sudden Seatbelt PSA!

Seatbelts are in cars.

Cars run on gas.

You expel gas when you breathe.

John is the Heir of Breath.

Checkmate, Scratch!

@marinerofthestars asked: Now that you’ve learned what Gamzee’s like sober, do you still reckon he’d be useless or actively detrimental as the Cavalier of Necromancer!Jade?

Oh, good point. A more focused Gamzee could certainly be a dangerous cavalier, especially if he shares the STRENGTH enjoyed by other highbloods. However, that presupposes that he's loyal to Jade, and the current incarnation of Gamzee isn't loyal to anyone.

Initially, I assumed that Gamzee would direct his violence primarily towards lowbloods - but said he was going to kill everyone, aristocrats included. Jade's status as Reverend Daughter wouldn't protect her here.

Besides, even if he was subservient to Jade, I don't think he'd be very reliable. Sure, he's probably better in a fight, but I don't think he'd be particularly useful when they're trying to complete their actual objective - namely, the Lyctor labs. Could you imagine Jade trying to pilot him in Imaging and Response?

At best, Frenzied Gamzee is a decent siphoning target - but that won't be much help either. In the original question, I gave the Houses their canon specialties, and the Ninth aren't siphoners.

In short, a sufficiently loyal Gamzee would be more useful in this state, but not a lot more.

@morganwick asked: So, you still think rendering Gamzee's text in all-lowercase makes him come off as a "chill guy" with a "Californian surfer dude accent"?

Forgot about that, haha. I think the contrast here is in what, exactly, Gamzee is saying in lowercase.

Lowercase Soporified Gamzee does sound like a surfer dude, because he's saying surfer dude things.

Lowercase Frenzied Gamzee, however, sounds like the Joker talking about his scars.

@morganwick asked: This is the part I was worried about your lax spoiler policy ruining things. When you opened the doors for people to offer up title suggestions for you that hadn't appeared in the comic yet Rage was one of the first aspects you got. At some point, if you'd bothered to keep track, Gamzee would have been the one aspect-less troll, and Rage would have stood out as the one non-joke troll-less aspect you knew about. So my concern was that if you started thinking about what it would mean for Gamzee to have Rage as his aspect, it might lessen the shock of seeing him now. A bit overly paranoid? Maybe, especially since Eridan being called the Prince of Hope came after Gamzee's "BlAsPhEmY" moment so more likely you'd have just connected it to the latter if anything, but we've seen some pretty perceptive bloggers in our time so this is to give some insight into the mindset behind a stricter spoiler policy.

It could definitely have been a problem - especially if I'd taken the time to enumerate the Aspects in detail. According to Cat, there were several asks requesting that I do so, which she filtered out in order to obfuscate Rage a little. Good choice, I think. If someone had called attention to it, I'm sure I'd have noticed that it was probably Gamzee's Aspect.

I still think the fun I was having with Aspect guesses was worth the risk, but I also see where you're coming from. Luckily, it never actually came up, so no harm was done.

@bladekindeyewear asked: VAGUE EXTERNAL MEDIA CLASSPECTING: According to certain theoretical fan frameworks, The Joker is a picture-perfect example of a Bard of Rage even across his incredibly wide variety of iterations, and Batman happens to be a good example of a Knight of Rage.

All Bards of Rage must be clowns, no exceptions.

Actually, Gamzee has both Joker and Two-Face vibes, doesn't he? He essentially has two separate quirks now, and he's also insisting that he's 'both' of his Mirthful Messiahs. Sollux is gonna sue someone.

Anonymous asked: So if going God Tier is merging the conscience of the real self into the dream self, what happens when a real self is prototyped with something else? Does Aradia still have some frog in her?

I certainly hope she does, but we haven't seen any yet.

As you pointed out, this is technically Aradia's dream self, which was never merged with the Frogsprite. It's possible that some internal 'froggy' traits were carried over from her realself when she ascended, but it's impossible to say for sure. We still don't know how this alternate form of ascension actually works.

@tacticaltaxonomist asked: im not rereading myself atm but i love following along your posts as you do, thank you for sharing! Anonymous asked: it makes me really happy to see new readers and I hope u have a good time :D

Thank you kindly!

I'm happy to be back and in the swing of things, and I'm even happier that I've been able to maintain a decent pace so far.

@krixwell asked: For what it's worth, Jack did "spare" PM when she proved she had the guts to actually go and actually get him the white king and queen's crowns, even though he had every reason to kill her. She was a Prospitian, had visibly just killed one of Jack's best men, had gotten the seemingly useless physical crowns rather than carrying out the murders they were supposed to represent (Jack likely knew this, since HB saw her get the king's crown), and was demanding one of Jack's most powerful weapons in exchange – Jack had nothing to gain from leaving her alive, and a fair bit to lose by honoring a deal that he used to half-heartedly offer to basically anyone who visited his office. As Hussie put it in recap 2, pages later but not many, "[Jack] came, and [PM?] traded the two white crowns for the green box, Jade's present to John. He appeared pleased to uphold the bargain, either out of the misunderstanding that he was still under control of its contents, or out of respect for PM?'s tenacity and brutality in pursuing the prize. Only he knows." Around the same time, WV was also left as the sole survivor of Jack's massacre on the Battlefield. WV was standing front and center of his rebel army, mere meters away when Jack killed the Black King, so it wouldn't just be that Jack missed him. (Recap 2: "Jack then killed the entire rebellion army, sparing only WV?. Perhaps to leave a survivor to tell the story, or perhaps out of respect for a fellow mutineer. Only he knows.") Before he got so powerful, there's also the time he released Dad Egbert from Dersite imprisonment, after the latter destroyed his jester hat. So yes, Jack has been known to spare people, at least pre-Becsprite… but only he knows why, and Eridan wouldn't have had access to any of these moments through the Trollian viewport.

The droll is beckoned. The bargain, honored.

That's a good point. Jack does appear to have a sense of honor, and I do genuinely think that these gestures were motivated by respect.

Eridan, though, he'd have zero respect for. I guarantee it.

@burntheupholstery asked: homestuck filtered through your comments is so much funnier for me because - and get this - i don't understand even a BIT of computer science

Give it a few more Acts, and I'll get you up to speed. >:)

@ipunchvampires asked: Minor gripe, but it's a bit annoying to me that the "Alterniabound" walkarounds have an obviously-developer-intended order of operations, but make no effort to signal this to the first-time reader. Like the dialogue in "Past Karkat: Wake up" is written such that going around the room counterclockwise with Karkat, then Vriska, then Terezi makes the most narrative sense, yet it's incredibly common for people to start clockwise, and when they get around to Terezi, Karkat acts like he's hearing about the humans for the first time even though he's heard about them from every other character in the meteor. @morganwick asked: There are, in fact, different conversations available if you talk to Kanaya and Feferi/Sollux as Karkat; it's just the items strewn around the lab that have the same flavor text. @helium--hydride asked: Did you check all of the interactions in this flash? You can be Karkat, and I think there was an interaction between Karkat and Sollux/Feferi that you missed.

So there is!

Not much to liveblog here, but it's good to know in the future that all combinations of conversational partners will, as a rule, yield new dialogue.

Anonymous asked: it’s a fun story and stuff but what are your thoughts on the music so far?? i mean we all know megalovania but do you have any fave tracks that stood out? top 5? the HS soundtrack is so unique imo (mine so far is explore remix - dave and jade made it together on freshjamz)

We've got a big enough library at this point that I probably can highlight some favorites. I think my top 5, in no particular order, are:

Sunslammer

The Beginning of Something Really Excellent

Savior of the Waking World

MeGaLoVania (Aradia version)

Descend

@elkian asked: "Oh, for the love of peace. Is there anyone that this globe-headed chucklefuck doesn’t have in his pocket?" - I don't know if you intended this pun about Cue Ball Head but I cackled

That one was on purpose. The guy's still an orb!

@abibeur asked: Honestly I was expecting your reaction to be like Prak from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (see below) and I was not disappointed. “Tell us about it,” said Ford. “Oh, I can't remember any of it now,” said Prak. “I thought of writing some of it down, but first I couldn't find a pencil, and then I thought, why bother?” There was a long silence, during which they thought they could feel the Universe age a little. Prak stared into the torchlight. “None of it?” said Arthur at last. “You can remember none of it?” “No. Except most of the good bits were about frogs, I remember that.” Suddenly he was hooting with laughter again and stamping his feet on the ground. “You would not believe some of the things about frogs,” he gasped. “Come on let's go and find ourselves a frog. Boy, will I ever see them in a new light!” He leapt to his feet and did a tiny little dance. Then he stopped and took a long drag at his cigarette. “Let's find a frog I can laugh at,” he said simply. I can't believe Douglas Adams predicted Homestuck.

Can't believe Prak canonically learned about Sburb sessions when he overdosed on truth serum 😲

Anonymous asked: if bilious slick is the universe, then it stands to reason that the Vast Croak = the Big Bang

Or the Big Crunch, given that 'croaking' is a euphemism for dying...

@bladekindeyewear asked: AAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA WE WERE WAITING FOR YOU TO GET TO THIS REVEAL EVERYTHING YOU'VE SAID ABOUT FROGS HAS HAD US LAUGHING SO HARD!!! don't feel bad this hits every reader and liveblogger the same way and it's GREAT nobody guesses it, it's like we're laughing WITH you not at you i promise, and gosh even just YOUR LAST REMARK ABOUT THE DOOR DURING THE RECAP AHAHAHAHAHAHH Anonymous asked: /post/749478863076196352 "We finally get to learn the function of the House Door – and apparently, it leads directly into the newly created universe. Makes a lot of sense. This, of course, nixes my theory that it leads to Bilious Slick." reading that was the fucking TEXTBOOK DEFINITION of dramatic irony Anonymous asked: you: oh, the door leads to the new universe, not bilious slick like i theorized! kanaya: Bet

Oh, god, I didn't even think about that. The door does lead to Slick, just in a way that was completely impossible to predict. I'm giving myself partial credit for that one.

@sanctferum asked: after everything the troll's black queen went through as a result of her refusal to defile her being with frogness, it is incredibly ironic that she would be bestowed the universal load-bearing powers she was given by Scratch upon becoming Snowman - and in so doing, have her own life force directly tied to that of a Genesis Frog. And you just know Scratch was insufferably smug about it too

@galaxa-13 asked: When I first read Homestuck and there were mentions of ol' B. Slick or any frog I just glazed over it. Oh, OK, just another weird thing in this tapestry of weird. On following read throughs, when I knew the significance, I still just glazed over it. Yeah yeah, frog is the universe, moving on. So when you started questioning all the frogs I got giddy, because I knew that YOU'D have a bigger reaction than I ever did.

Yeah, I was so lost with those frogs. I definitely didn't suspect that the answer would be anything as monumental as this.

I sure fucking didn't, Kanaya.

@drakethedeep asked: Congratulations on reaching the genesis frog reveal! Now, what are your thoughts on the metaphysical implications that universes are living biological creatures?

It gels well with a theorypost I was sent before about how Sburb's timeline system may have evolved naturally over time. The idea that universes are biologically alive certainly lends credence to the idea that the entire reality of Homestuck is fundamentally organic. Maybe the entire multiverse is actually inside another, second-order cosmic animal...

(Because it's Hussie, that animal is probably a clown.)

Anonymous asked: about the Vast Croak: (from page 2308) “[Frogs] go by many names, and so does the reviled patron god they herald - THE GREAT DETESTATION, KING PONDSQUATTER, SPEAKER OF THE VAST JOKE, or most commonly, BILIOUS SLICK.”

I didn't consider that Vast Joke could just be a corruption of Croak.

If so, then I'm not sure why Aradia's referring to it as if it's an actual joke. Curious.

@mapswithoutwyoming asked: This is a bit of a weird message, but: I’ve been plotting a Homestuck fanfic, and I was getting confused about whether the lunar sways I’d assigned to the main characters made sense. I was so deep into orchestrating the interlocking and paradoxical web of events that changing it even a little would have had catastrophic ramifications, but I was starting to wonder if it wouldn’t make sense not to. But you referencing your theory about the dispositions made my earlier decisions click for me. thx

Happy to help! And when I'm out of spoiler territory for the fic, I'd love to read it.

@ben-guy asked: In regards to your joke about Jerma in the tags… man, just imagine him streaming Sburb. "W-what? No chat, I'm NOT going to- I'm not going to prototype myself. That's an atrocious idea. I don't even know what that means! Listen, it's just not happening. Okay. Okay, a million off the boon-debt" Just imagine… Jerma imps. They would be insufferable. Also, his server player gets to play Jerma's Dollhouse for real. TBH, the Dollhouse steam has some minor HS vibes already… Making me feel totally justified in sharing this classic HS meme with you

Look, we all know Jermasprite would happen.

Oh, man - and prototyping him turns all the Underlings into chat members, so that when Jack is watching his progress through the Fourth Wall, it also contains a live feed of Imps and Orges spamming 'next session'.

Anonymous asked: Hey, you're right, the trolls might not have gone through the brooding cavern trials, since they were delivered to the surface on meteors, not birthed in the caves. Which would mean that when Vriska talked about how she remembered her trials, she was just lying.

It's possible that the meteors were delivered directly into the caverns somehow, but that's definitely not certain.

Vriska's assertion is suspicious either way, though - would she really have memories from being a newborn grub? If the trolls could remember their infancy, then they'd already know they came from meteors.

@manorinthewoods asked: I was going to write something about Locked Home (HS chars in Canaan House) being in the wrecked troll session, but upon further inspection, I can't see an easy way to set that up without opening a few of WV's cans of worms. So, instead, here's a different question - since lighting the Forge would clear LOFAF's frost, would lighting Kanaya's Forge have cleared LORAF's rays? What would that even mean? ~LOSS (15/5/24)

I thought it could have receded her oceans, but you're right - the Forge's environmental changes might always be associated with its Land's named trait.

Maybe let's split the difference, and say that activating the Forge intensifies LORAF's rays, causing them to boil the oceans away.

@divineerdrick asked: Hello again! Just wanted to say how much I love your analysis of what Jade is going through with Jadesprite. In fact, it's a rare treat to see a first time reader dig into how Rose and Jade and the events around their Dream Selves affect them. But I especially want to congratulate you on again pointing out something I'd never really noticed, and that is how playful Kanaya is with the text in her conversations. It really is a great gag, and I never noticed how consistent it was.

Thank you! Yeah, a big part of why Kanaya is so great is that a lot of her gags are very understated. Half the time, you don't even read them as gags - they just scan as charming aspects of her personality.

@heliotropopause asked: "Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read?" It's been a while since I read it, and I haven't read the fragment of TSG act three that only exists on tumblr since I didn't know about it at the time, but I'm about 85% sure you'll be good to pick it up once you finish act five. The whole setting is built on lore from late act five, and while it references something from a ways into act six at least once, i don't think there's anything there that could rightfully be called a spoiler. (And when you're done with TSG, you can pick up Taz's husband's The Vienna Game, which is even better, though of course doesn't tie into TLT. It should be spoiler-free after page 4468.)

I've still got a while to wait, then - but not quite as long as I feared. Works for me!

@manorinthewoods asked: That image of Vriska demanding that WV not interfere is… really weirdly creepy, and I can't help but feel like I missed that whole sequence. I guess it might not have stuck with me because I didn't bother translating the Morse code - which I assume the Homestuck Collection can do for you, which is another reason why I should have used that. ~LOSS (11/5/24)

Yeah, my heart sank when I read that part.

I really thought Vriska was about to do something to hurt WV, which would have sent her careening down the tier list faster than you can say 'main character syndrome'.

@manorinthewoods asked: "Why, though? I had assumed that these stations were going to be used to restore civilization on this planet. How are they going to repair Earth with no access to technology? Surely they’re not going to start from scratch?" Bold of you to assume Earth will be repaired. ~LOSS (11/5/24)

Terezi seems to think it will - but clearly, the stations aren't involved.

Maybe the game thinks it'd be cheating, or that using Sburb tech to build civilizations would make them too advanced to be threatened by its meteors the next time around.

@necrowyrm asked: The only possible thing you can liveblog after homestuck is now The Earthbound Halloween Hack in order to experience the original megalovania in all it's glory

You are SO right. I'll also make a quick detour through Smash Ultimate, of course.

@adhd-coomer submitted:

LMAO, that literally is what that is, isn't it?

@captorations submitted:

my birthday cake from years ago (but not many... but not *not* many.) deadname nuked from orbit. my sister who got me into homestuck arranged it and maybe one day i will forgive her #for the cake or for getting me into homestuck? yes. #note: this is a joke i was/am amused by the former and very grateful for the latter

Yes, oh my god! That really is the perfect Karkat face for a cake.

I'm going to be brainstorming Homestuck meals for the rest of the week.

[idkfitememate]

So we have tiger creator and deer creator

So a present

Sumpter beast creator

This thing

Like we have a killer cat in the city

But imagine this giant in the city

Just chilling

Dori Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Sumpter Beast Reader x Dori

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 538

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, Dori gets protective

The Palace of Alcazarzaray had a new resident. A resident that no one would have ever thought Lord Sangemah Bay would even allow.

That resident, you ask?

You! A Sumpter Beast.

People of The Palace had not been expecting to see their Lord riding atop your shaggy form. You had a large hawdaj on your back that could accommodate three people of Dori’s size - which meant only one full grown person could fit. And by full grown, you mean a shorter full grown person.

Golden hoops shined on your ears and your fur was shined and brushed throughly. You looked better taken care of than the majority of the people of Sumeru.

You quietly walked into the pavilion and sat down, allowing the girl to climb down. Taking about few packs and bags off your back and began setting up shop.

People walking past watched in wonder as you helped unroll rugs and place merchandise. You were exceptionally gentle with everything.

And when everything was set up, you settled down on a rug. Dori was quick to follow, sitting in front of you and laying her head on your side.

She even slipped some greens your way which you happily munched on.

“Um.. Lord Sangemah Bay?” A passing merchant who had witnessed all of this hesitantly took a step towards the girl, making her look up.

“Yeah?” She asked, flicking a single mora between her fingers. Feeing her attention wasn’t fully on him, he sighed before steeling his nerves.

“… Why would you keep a most likely flee ridden beast such as-“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence before the most offended gasp he had ever heard left the small girl before him.

His words were apparently so egregious that she had dropped the more she had been playing with.

That was not a good sign.

She stood up in a huff, Electro swirling around her. You didn’t even bother looking up, choosing to continue munching on your plants.

She stalked over to the now shivering merchant, before stoping in front of him. The amount of Electro swirling off her provided a blinding purple light the engulfed to surrounding area.

“The only “flee ridden beast” I see around here is you. Now SCRAM! YOU’RE BANNED FROM TRADING WITH ME EVER. AGAIN!” She slammed her foot on the ground, causing a strike of Electro energy to zap right next to the man, causing him to squeal like a pig before running out. She made sure to actually zap him on the ass as he left, making him scream like a little girl.

She grunted before turning to the others who were watching in fear.

“Anyone ELSE got a PROBLEM with my new partner?” She asked. And was immediately met with echos of ‘no’ and ‘absolutely not’.

“Good.” She mused before walking back over to you, calming her Electro so as to not shock you. Sitting back down she leaned into your form and was met with a low rumble from your form.

She ran a hand through your fur and sighed, calming down.

“What would I do without you, صانع المال أول’ الكبير.” She sighed into your side before sitting up straight, ready to make her daily quota.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Just a bid ole’ guy who wants to live peacefully. And with Dori’s help, they can! Imagine all the nice soft stuff she can buy… or the self care products… hehe getting pampered by Dori sounds so nice right now…

* my big ole’ money maker - Dori to You