#however this only meant that they had the legal right to be in white spaces. not that they were just socially accepted as white people

[maddestmewmew]

speaking of the thing i said in the prev post, about me learning history bc im a usamerican and this seems like maybe a good time to hit the books, ive started doing a lot of research on mexican-americans in the united states, and specifically on chicano history. man i know thisll sound crazy but i dont think the government likes latinos very much

[yellowbunnydreams]

Only Donors Left Alive [Vampire! Dave Miller x F! Reader] (Part 1)

~By popular demand, like weirdly popular for a cameo character in another fic, we're writing Vampire Dave today! Wooo! Also a big shout out to @ruh--roh-raggy and @springlockedfool for being feral over this man with me and springlockedfool for making some awesome art of the wet spaghetto based on our conversations/Do You Need Some Vitamin D?.~

Taglist: @ruh--roh-raggy @springlockedfool

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI- Female Reader, legal age gap, older man/younger woman, graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, unbalanced power dynamic, anaemia, possessive behaviour, partial nudity

Hurricane was a small town with a nothing of particular note going on in it. Or at least, that was what you had been told by the realtor when you'd been looking for somewhere quiet to move to after you'd decided to move out of your parent's house. They seemed content to let you move to a small apartment in somewhere suburban, it had apparently been much more of a thriving town in the eighties, but you preferred the quiet.

As you'd dragged your suitcase from the cab in front of the apartment complex on the edge of town however, you'd already begun to notice a few things that weren't quite right with Hurricane. Although, you easily brushed it off as nerves with moving to somewhere unfamiliar and new.

The apartment complex itself was a drab, dusty grey concrete building that looked like it hadn't been externally renovated since it was built some time in the peak of Hurricane's history and as you let yourself inside the foyer, you noticed the lights had a sickly glow to them. Flickering hallogen lamps that gave you a subtle creepy feeling, like you were walking into somewhere you weren't meant to be.

The place was crap, the rent was cheap, but you were sure you could make it work out for yourself. At least, when all your things arrived over the next few days.

Sighing to yourself, you looked at the notice in your hand and shoved it roughly into the pocket of your denim jacket. Noticing a little elevator nestled into the back of the lobby, you went to try the button, waiting for the doors to open up. Hearing the grinding of metal against metal, and the squeal of the service brakes as the doors to the elevator shaft creaked open, the floor itself an inch or so above the level it should be, you decided it was in your best long-term interests to take the stairs.

Dragging the suitcase up wasn't easy, especially when you realised that you were on the top floor. But you had paid extra on the deposit for a larger apartment, and with four units of each floor and only two on the top floor, you weren't going to complain too much.

The hum of the lights as your breath sounded loud in your ears was somewhat comforting. Looking between the two doors, fishing the paper out of your pocket, you confirmed the number and shuffled over to your new door, wrapping your fingers around the metalic key in your pocket and unlocking the door.

Despite the dingy exterior of the building, the apartment inside was quite clean and somewhat modern. Spacious, painted a soft creamish beige on the walls, the floors were shockingly even laid down with a fresh layer of linoleum. The cupboards were painted a faint pastel bluish-grey, and the vinyl counters were clearly freshly laid, mimicking a black granite. The whole apartment smelt faintly like fresh paint and bleach.

"Well...this is home, I guess." You muttered to nobody. Leaving your suitcase by the door, you decided to explore the space.

The rest of the apartment was just as spacey. A slight hallway, a combined kitchen and lounge, you were quite surprised by the spacious bathroom too, the dark tiling along the walls contrasting to the white floors and a seemingly generous shower. And finally, the bedroom, it was perhaps a little smaller than you originally anticipated, but it was still large enough for you to fit a double bed inside and it came with a built in wardrobe along one wall. This place could easily be home, once the smell of heavy duty cleaning products aired out and you made sure to check the lease on how you could decorate.

Looking outside, you realised how late it was getting and decided to see if you could find somewhere that would deliver food to you. Scrolling through your phone and selecting a pizza place that sounded good, you began to unpack what little belongings you had managed to fit inside your suitcase, wanting to keep yourself busy.

After-all, you were sure you would have time to look around the sleepy little town in the morning.

The next few days were uneventful, much to your boredom and frustration.

All your boxes had arrived, you'd set up furniture, made sure appliances were up and connected. But you had begun to realise there were a few things that were not quite right with Hurricane when you had ventured out into town to grab supplies and things.

Firstly, there were the telephone poles, covered in staples like they were once decorated with posters of some kind, but the few you saw seemed to be missing pets and the occasional human face staring back at you. It made you sad, but when you asked the cashiers about it at the local store, they simply stared at you with wide eyes like they were surprised you had noticed. People didn't talk to each other in the same way as they had back home either. Back there, you went into a store and you could hear something like ten different conversations, but you had only heard whispered conversations amongst small groups that seemed tense when you passed by.

But you shrugged it off, you'd moved states, moved towns, brushing it off as simply strange, you tried to ignore the gut feeling you had that there was something else lurking beneath the surface of it all.

Entering your apartment building, you nearly tripped over a package sat in the lobby. Glancing over it, you realised that the box was addressed to the unit besides yours. Despite being there for a few days, it had seemed strange to you that you hadn't noticed anybody else living in the building, but you assumed that you would all meet at some point.

Balancing your groceries on top, you grunted as you picked up the box. Surprised by it's weight as you glanced at the elevator before sighing and lugging it up the stairs, knowing your legs were going to look great after how many times you'd taken the stairs recently. Although you had to admit that you really hoped your landlord fixed the elevator soon and allowed you to have a day off from going up and down to the top floor each and every time.

The usually twenty minute climb took about forty with the additional box and groceries.

When you reached the top step, you were glad to put the box down. Breathing hard and sweat beading against your brow in the Utah heat, heart pounding in your chest and ears as you let out a frustrated sigh. Closing your eyes for just a moment to gather yourself.

"Well aren't you a pretty sight?" The voice behind you suddenly made you gasp and whip around, heart beating even faster as you were met at first with a white-ish shirt that seemed a little baggy for whoever was wearing it.

Stepping back involuntarily, you noticed a tall, lanky man standing a little too close to you for your comfort. Having to look up slightly, you watched a crooked smile creep across his gaunt face, dark eyes darting about in a way that made you wonder if perhaps he was as flustered as you. Glancing over him as a whole, he appeared to be wearing some kind of unbranded security uniform, white with black epaulettes and black slacks. Not hiding his wiry figure, he looked greyish and like a particularly strong breeze might take him out upon initial inspection.

"Sorry?" The word tumbled from you quickly, and his gaze finally settled on yours for long enough to realise that he had blueish eyes, although they looked darker thanks to the heavy dark circles beneath them giving them a more sallow appearance.

"Oh you don't need to apologise, sugar, it's not often I get visitors all the way up here. And certainly fewer that look as....delectable...as you." The crooked grin spread, revealing crooked teeth, those blue eyes focused on you intently still as he looked down at you, you could feel your cheeks heating up under his intensity. But something about that same intensity made your skin crawl uncomfortably.

"I'm not a visitor, I live on this floor. That means you must be my neighbour, right?"

The man blinked and you felt a sense of relief washing over you as his smile faltered for a moment before that lopsided, cock-sure grin crept back onto his sharp face. Rubbing his hand along his black slacks before offering it to you, making you worry what he'd been touching before you tentatively shook it with a polite smile, caught off guard as his thin, dexterous fingers squeezed and you felt the strength behind his boney appearance. His skin felt cool to the touch and a little clammy, and you thought that maybe he'd just wiped down his sweaty hands to make it a little more pleasant for you.

"So you're my new little tenant. My my, aren't I a lucky guy."

"Come again?"

"Oh I will, pet, don't you worry. Dave Miller, landlord and your neighbour." He introduced himself as he kept hold of your hand for just a moment after you loosened your grip, making you laugh nervously. Bringing your hands back to your sides as you tried not to let your shocked expression show. "How are you enjoying the unit? I've had to perform some renovations after the last tenant....left some damage."

The way Dave spoke was a little odd, and you heard something of a British accent in that raspy, gravelly voice. People could be socially awkward, you reasoned with yourself, and Dave didn't look like the kind of man who easily socialised as his eyes once again were darting about in a way that made you subconsciously think of a wild animal. His dark hair looked slightly greasy, tousled like he's simply run his fingers through it when he woke up.

"The apartment is great! I love how spacious it is." Glad to change the topic as you suddenly remembered your groceries, picking them off of the top of the box and gesturing towards the large package with your free hand. "Oh, and um, I found this in the lobby? I hope it's yours, it was a pain lugging it up here, but at least I got my cardio in!"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, thank you sugar. And don't worry, I know you did, I could hear you all the way downstairs." Continuing to give that wide, crooked smile that felt uncomfortable as you swore his eyes darted to your neck and trailed up before focusing on you once again.

Bending over, Dave picked up the package easily, making you raise an eyebrow as you were still thinking about how rude his comment seemed, were you really that out of shape carrying up the box that he could hear you?

"I should...go put these groceries away,"

"Of course, I should put mine away too. It's been a pleasure meeting you," your name dripped from his tongue in a way that made your heart race and cringe at the same time. Like he was almost tasting it, a thought that made you shudder as you headed for your door. Turning your head over your shoulder to see if he was still there and found him staring after you, seeming to watch you with that crooked smile that didn't quite reach his darting eyes.

You decided you didn't know what to think of your landlord as you closed the door behind you and shut him out.

You rarely saw Dave after your initial introduction, at least for the first week or so. Occasionally you'd spot him in the evenings wearing that white uniform shirt that you were sure he'd stained permanently grey, but whenever he saw you, that lazy smile creeped onto him and you couldn't help but smile back. Often afterwards, you were left confused and disoriented by the action, like something had over ridden your senses to force the action. Dave made you feel slightly uneasy, at the very core of each interaction.

As did the growing number of missing posters in Hurricane.

You'd been in the supermarket when you heard your name called, one of the locals that you recognised as working in one of the mechanic's shops was stood by the register with a frown on his bearded face. The elderly cashier looking concerned as you pointed to yourself before moving over cautiously, wondering if you broke some small town ettiquette.

"You're new to town, right?" He asked gruffly, making you shrug and smile a little nervously at the sudden question.

"Yeah, moved in about a week or so ago now, sir."

"You live in that apartment complex on the edge of town, don't ya?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful, there's been...things...happening..." He gesticulated vaguely and the older cashier scoffed, blinking behind her thick glasses at you as she smacked on on his shoulder, tutting disapprovingly.

"Don't mind him lovely, he don't know how to talk to people. What he means to say is that there have been a few people going missing in Hurricane recently, and all the locals are nervous. Especially since they're mostly out of towners and...well...people that live on the fringes of our social circles." She explained, making you think back to your walk home, how you had noticed a few more posters up than when you first arrived. "Do you need a ride home? Jason here can give you a ride, I worry about a young lady walking home this late if there's been all this strangeness about."

You smiled and thanked her, assuring her and who you found out to be her son that you would be fine. You were always fine. If anything, you refused to mention how it felt like the last few nights you had been followed by somebody. However, whenever you turned around or glanced into a reflective surface as you walked past, you never saw anybody. Putting it down to your paranoia about the missing people. Soon, it was time to walk home again however, and you said your goodbyes.

The streets were beginning to turn dark as you walked through the cooler evening temperatures. Stopping to look at one of the telephone poles that had many posters stapled to it, finding a total of five people and four pets that had gone missing over the short time you'd lived in Hurricane.

If anybody had been more superstitious, they might have blamed you for it all.

As you were lost in thought however, you heard the screech of barely working brakes and turned to look at the noise naturally. Spotting a Toyota Corolla pulling up, beat up silver, the tyres looked like they were on the verge of needing replacing, and as the window rolled down, it was both to your dread and delight that you realised it was Dave behind the wheel. An uncustomary scowl on his face even as he looked at you.

"The fuck are you doing out here?" His rasp sent a shiver down your spine, frowning, you crossed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Good evening to you too Dave. I tried knocking on your door this morning to let you know that another package had arrived for you." Watching his scowl lessen as he ran his slender hand over his angular face. Sucking his crooked teeth slightly.

"I don't do mornings, sugar, no matter how tempting the little treat at my door is." You felt your cheeks flushing as you felt that gut twist once more despite the flutter that the compliment caused in your chest. "You shouldn't be out here all alone."

"So people have said."

"Let me give you a ride."

"Absolutely not."

"Alright, let me give you a ride back, please, sugar. This ain't even about rent, it's the principle of the thing." Dave sighed, looking at you with a scowl until you sighed and nodded your head. Walking around to his passenger side and barely had yourself buckled in before he pulled a u-turn in the middle of the road.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Nope, Dave Miller. I'd rather hear you screaming that." The comment crawled under your skin and made you cringe, watching that sleazy smile come back. There was the Dave you'd seen and knew. Unsure on how to respond as he drove through the darkened streets, hurtling towards your complex with a practised precision.

"Are you heading to work?" Attempting to change the subject, he nodded as his face contorted into a mask of concentration, his eyes darting wildly, although they seemed to focus a little too intently on you whenever you spoke to him directly.

"Yeah, the night-shift is always fun as long as you're not afraid of what goes bump in it." His way of speaking still resonated to you as a bit odd, but despite it being something like the second time you'd spoken to your landlord, you couldn't help but think that it was simply him.

Sooner than you expected, you were outside your building. Unclipping your seatbelt quickly, only for Dave's hand to reach out and hold onto your wrist. Your eyes widening as you turned to look at him, watching that somewhat feral smile with sharp, slightly disarrayed teeth lazily spread as he gazed up at you, bending in his seat and bringing your hand up to his cold, thin lips. Making you cringe physically and mentally, seemingly to his amusement as he began to chuckle. Swearing his fingers were positioned like he was taking your pulse before he let you go, licking his lips slightly and humming in thought.

"Have a goodnight, sugar. Make sure to lock your door tight, you wouldn't want....something...unsavoury...getting in, would you?" Phrasing it like a question, but your heart pounded as you weakly nodded and felt your body shaking slightly, climbing out of Dave's car and heading into your building as quickly as you could. Feeling his eyes burning into your back before you made it into the lobby and peered out, watching his silver car slowly pulling out of the parking lot once again.

No wonder the rent was so cheap. You weren't sure how anybody could stand being neighbours with Dave for extended periods of time.

[wolfertinger]

cancelling, as a term, originated from black spaces and black activists who- for obvious reasons- lacked the power or safety to seek either legal or social accountability for people in power who were harmful. it was used to call for smaller-scale community accountability where society was content to ignore problems (such as white celebs being racist and getting away with it) it also had a strong presence in kink spaces, where dangerous individuals would look for victims under the guise of kink (usually directed at abusing women scot-free) and, as these were sex spaces, and often black- its not exactly safe to ask for cops to do anything. in order to make others aware of the danger so they could avoid or protect themselves from the offenders. it has, of course, a bit of a messy online history. but the core purpose is still to make people aware of the potential harmful nature of an individual, so that people can make informed choices about supporting or interacting with them. it is messy, and people need diligence when interacting with callouts meant to bring awareness to issues, and also understand that people do have the capacity for growth. transwomen have obviously been the victims of a lot of the worse aspects of callouts- usually in the form of minor mistakes at worse being blown up into massive accusations. it would be stupid to think that some callouts arent bad faith. however it would be equally stupid to think that all callouts are bad faith, and that all should be disregarded. bad people exist in spaces. bad people look for victims. bad people prey on the lack of knowledge people have about them so that they can either control the narrative or take advantage of someone else not knowing. and callouts are often the /only/ form of protection people can use online because many of these crimes arent taken seriously or the victims are people who simply do not have the ability to seek legal accountability. when you refuse to consider the possibility- you get wis- someone who got told 'im a rapist' to her face and proceeded to tear into the victim like a shark smelling blood because she couldnt be bothered to think for a moment that there was truth to it. ive seen other posts about 'how all callouts against trans people are bullshit' and you go into the replies and see defenses for truely fucking awful people like purplekecleon (known groomer, had sex with animals, so much more) to the point where it becomes very clear this mindset exists only to allow predators to profit and not to actually protect against false calls. It doesnt matter if salem did change and grow, if people want to avoid supporting puppychan even years later thats their right. they deserve to make the call on if they think he has or hasnt grown. people deserve to know if people have a history of abuse or predation they would be disgusted to know they supported. and if its been years and someone has grown and changed well than people can and should look at that and decide on their own they think theyve improved. but this tripwire "always innocent' shit wis pulls? the only person benefiting from that is the predator looking for friends who will turn the other way. no one wouldve been upset that wis wanted to help stabilize mari or look more into things first if she had been fucking normal about it and not an abusive piece of shit who wanted to terrorize a rape victim for the crime of being too mean after being raped

.

[sephirthoughts]

First Soldier

it's a double entendre i'm hilarious shut up

this is a glennseph one-shot i've been threatening to post for a while but didn't get around to. it's extremely explicit and sephiroth is a teenager so obligatory disclaimer ahoy:

ALL CHARACTERS HAVE REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY AND ARE ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN THEIR COUNTRIES OF ORIGIN

fucking fight me you little puritan fucks

SUMMARY: big dumb puppy glenn pets the hissy little kitty but instead of getting clawed, the hissy little kitty rubs against him and purrs NOTE: did everyone know glenn is only 23 during first soldier? twenty-fucking-three!!! he must have the cid highwind premature weathered old man gene cause damn TAGS: sephiroth x glenn lodbrok, sephglenn, cute smut, fluffy smut, no plot, pwp, etc. WARNINGS: dead dove, don't like don't read, grown-folks content, no minors allowed, minors DNI, etc.

“Out here, the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you,” he said, forcing back the tears that were burning in his eyes. 

Glenn advanced on him. Towering and almost menacing, it seemed, to the teenaged boy. Sephiroth steeled himself. He didn’t want to hurt Glenn, but he was at his breaking point, and if the man wanted to make this physical, he’d regret—

All of a sudden, Glenn’s arms encircled him, and he found himself being squeezed tightly, with his face buried in a big, broad chest.

His senses were flooded by Glenn’s earthy, masculine scent and the firm pressure of his arms, holding Sephiroth against the sturdy, solid warmth of his body.

Sephiroth crashed to desktop, like one of those old computer programs, in the SOLDIER testing center.

He wasn’t that ignorant. He’d seen people hug one another, before. It was just that no one had ever done it to him. No one would have dared to invade the little monster’s personal space, except Professor Hojo. And Hojo only touched him to test his pain thresholds.

On the heels of his initial bewilderment, his indignation flared up, white-hot. Physical touch was a method of pacifying infants and children, who were too young to respond to reason.

Did Glenn think of him as a brainless infant, that needed that kind of soothing? Was this another demonstration of disrespect, because of his age and inexperience?

The man’s next words thoroughly defused the boy’s rising anger, though. 

“You’re right,” Glenn said. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and tickled Sephiroth’s ear. “Out here it’s life or death.”

When the man released him, he was in a daze, hardly able to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to grab hold of him and bury himself in his warmth and his scent and never, ever let go.

No. That was something a baby would do. Sephiroth had been very clearly instructed that he was to conduct himself with the dignity incumbent upon him as a man, a SOLDIER, and Shinra’s representative in the field.

“But Sephiroth, you don’t have anything to prove,” Glenn continued. “We know how strong you are. Maybe you could show some compassion. I know you’ve got it in you.”

He clenched his teeth and fought it as hard as he could, but a tear escaped down his cheek. It was unseen by the others, however, because Glenn was standing between them, like a shield.

“I’m not a cyborg.”

Those arms enfolded him again, a gently crushing pressure on his tense-up body. Glenn’s voice was hoarse, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I know. I’m really sorry I said that.”

“I…I never wanted to be…” he mumbled, into Glenn’s coat, trailing off before finishing his sentence, because he was still trying not to cry.

“I know. I know,” Glenn said, then gave a strangled sounding grunt, as the boy’s arms constricted around him, like steel pythons. “Seph could you—hngh. Can’t…breathe.”

“Oh. S—sorry,” Sephiroth said, hastily letting go. “I forgot how fragile you are.”

He’d meant that in complete earnest, but Matt and Lucia burst out laughing, like it was the best joke of all time. Their laughter made Sephiroth feel warm and pleased, and he laughed as well. Glenn snarled and scowled and stomped around a little, but he wasn’t really angry, and no one was afraid of him, anyway. 

The team was in better spirits, when they sat by the campfire, that evening. Sephiroth had his jacket off, so Lucia could patch up his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to tell her it was unnecessary and he’d be good as new before he went to bed, so he just politely accepted her help.

Meanwhile, his sleeveless, black thermal left little of his leanly muscled torso to the imagination, and both Glenn and Matt commented admiringly on his physique.

“When I was your age, I was a scrawny little fucker,” Glenn reminisced. “Had a growth spurt around seventeen. Shot up like a tree. What about you, Matt? You have your growth spurt, yet?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Matt returned, tossing a bit of biscuit at him. “I’d rather have brains than brawn, anyway.”

“I never met a problem I can’t punch my way out of, professor smartass,” Glenn said, puffing his chest out.

Sephiroth was eyeing the large man enviously. “The professor says I’ll grow very quickly, in the next several years. I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as you.”

“Even if you’re not, there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I’m a pretty big dude.”

“Mm-hm, with a mouth to match,” Lucia interjected, at which Matt laughed. “Alright, I did my best,” she said, closing the med kit. “Not pretty, but your healing factor is so fast. You’ll probably be good as new by morning.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth replied, earning a ruffle of his hair from the young woman.

“Anything for a handsome gentleman, like you,” Lucia smiled. “I’m gonna turn in. Don’t keep the commander up all night, Glenn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Glenn said waving her away.

“Goodnight, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth said politely.

“Night fellas.” 

When she’d gone off to her tent, Glenn bumped Sephiroth with his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink, and Matt chuckled over the rim of his canteen. Glenn looking at him like that made Sephiroth’s cheeks flush, which just made the two older men laugh even harder. 

This was the third or fourth time something like this had occurred. He wasn’t actually sure what their raillery meant, but he knew it had to do with Lucia, and that he was supposed to understand, somehow.

He didn’t want to be called a cyborg, again, so he usually kept his mouth shut and just let them have their joke (well, Glenn’s joke. Matt only ever laughed along). But Glenn hugging him, earlier, and apologizing for the cyborg comment emboldened him, this time. 

“Why do you two laugh and look at me that way, when I talk to Ms. Lucia?” he asked. 

Glenn squinted an eye. “What, you really don’t know? Young man your age?”

“Don’t know what?” Sephiroth asked, looking back and forth between them.

“That’s my cue to turn in,” Matt said, getting up from his spot, across the fire. “You two have a nice talk.”

“Well, Seph, my friend, it’s like this,” Glenn said sagely, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Matt retreated. “There’s birds, you know? And bees. And those all have…something to do with spring. Spring is the time for, uh. Well, when two people—”

“I know about sexual reproduction, Glenn,” Sephiroth said flatly. “My education has been very thorough. What does that have to do with you teasing me about Ms. Lucia?”

Glenn withdrew his arm and scratched his head, awkwardly. “Ah, well. You’re a healthy young man, ya know? And she’s a very pretty girl.”

“Is she?”

“Sure. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to judge my teammates, based on appearance.”

“Yeah, of course. But for real, though. Don’t you like her?”

Sephiroth considered this gravely. “Ms. Lucia is a strong and competent person, and she goes out of her way to be kind to me. I suppose I like her, yes.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I mean like…the kind of ‘like’ where you want her to hold your hand.”

Sephiroth looked down at his hands, then up at Glenn, perplexed. “Hold my hand? For what reason?”

“Just…hold it. Like, the way people do, when they like each other. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Wow. How the hell do I explain this.”

“Why don’t you just show me what you mean,” Sephiroth suggested.

“W—well, I…ok. Just to show ya.” Glenn crossed his wrist over Sephiroth’s on the smooth log, between them, and pressed his palm to his, then laced their fingers together. “See? Like that. Nothin’ to it.”

Sephiroth found himself unable to reply. His mouth had gone suddenly dry, and he could judge how pink his face probably was by how hot his cheeks felt. He kept his head down and nodded faintly.

When he felt Glenn’s grip begin to loosen, he unconsciously tightened his own. Glenn stiffened. But he didn’t pull his hand away. Neither did Sephiroth. Several long beats passed. 

By then, it was far too late to pretend it was an accident. They were both too embarrassed to look at one another, though, so they just sat silently like that, hand in hand, staring at the low-burning embers of the fire. 

Sephiroth’s body was outwardly calm, but his mind was racing, frantically attempting to explain this sensation to himself. It was a completely new and alien feeling, this holding hands. It seemed like a pointless gesture, but there were all sorts of unexpected physiological reactions attached to it. Mostly turbid and confusing emotions, along with a heavy dose of shame, at reacting so strongly to something so trivial. He didn’t hate it, though. 

After a while, he dared a sidelong glance at Glenn. “What else do people do, when they like each other?”

Even in profile, by firelight, he could see the color in Glenn’s cheeks. “Well, they, uh. They hug and uh…k—kiss. Things like that.”

Sephiroth looked down at their interlaced fingers, and seemed to have realized something. His blue-green eyes widened. “You hugged me. And you’re holding my hand.” 

“Uh—ahem. Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Do you…want me to?”’

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully. “I liked when you hugged me, and I like holding hands. I think…yes. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

Glenn glanced down at Sephiroth then quickly away. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, passing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck it. I’m already goin’ to hell, why not punch an express ticket.”

Releasing Sephiroth’s hand, he coiled his arm about his waist and leaned close, tilted his head slightly, then ever so gently pressed his smooth, firm lips to Sephiroth’s. 

Sephiroth’s heart lurched and ran ragged. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed Glenn’s collar. He didn’t know what else to do 

“Open your mouth a little,” Glenn whispered, breath warm against his lips. His low, rough voice sent goosebumps up the back of Sephiroth’s neck. “Just follow my lead. Try to do what I do.”

Sephiroth let his jaw slacken and Glenn’s lips pushed his apart. When Glenn’s tongue slid forward into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond, for a full ten seconds, then he recalled Glenn saying he should follow his lead.

Sephiroth pushed his tongue forward and tried to mimic Glenn’s actions. It was clumsy and awkward, but when his tongue crossed the barrier of his teeth, and touched Glenn’s, he couldn’t help giving a soft little groan. Glenn hummed in his throat and pulled him closer. 

Sephiroth’s ears were burning hot and his stomach was doing dizzy flip-flops, like he was coming down with a fever and an inner-ear infection, and yet…this was the best thing he had ever felt. The best thing he’d ever imagined feeling. He wanted to do this and nothing else, from now on. 

He learned extremely quickly, and before long, his tongue went from tentative and uncertain, to hungry and demanding, pushing forward and chasing Glenn’s. 

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy,” Glenn said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. “Anything past this, and I’m in serious shit. Actually, if you decide to tell anyone, I’m in serious shit, anyway.”

The boy’s catlike pupils were blown wide and round, in his blue-green irises. “Why would I tell anyone? Come back, I want to kiss more.”

“Probably ain’t a good idea to do this out here, in the open.” 

“Where?”

Glenn glanced around and then stood up, jerking his head toward the little clearing, where he had his tent, a dozen meters away. Sephiroth nodded and followed. 

Inside the tent, they took off their boots and coats, and Glenn spread out his sleeping bag, so they could both lie on it. Sephiroth hardly gave him time to lie down before he was pulling and tugging at his clothes.

“Hang on,” Glenn said. “Couple things. I got more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I know everything. You gotta tell me to stop, the minute you don’t like something, ok? I won’t be mad or anything, you just gotta say it.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I don’t like it.”

Then Glenn took the boy in his arms, tangling their bodies together, while their tongues caressed, sloppy and urgent, till they were both flushed hot and panting. Glenn peeled off his thermal undershirt, then helped Sephiroth pull his off, over his head. 

When he compared his smooth, slender, milk-white chest to Glenn’s—hairy, suntanned, and heavily muscled—he wanted to reach out and touch it. 

As if he’d read his mind, Glenn grabbed Sephiroth’s hand and put it on his chest. “Go ahead and touch me. I don’t bite.”

Sephiroth hesitated, then gave free rein to his curiosity, playing with Glenn’s curly, golden-blonde chest hair, cupping his big pectoral muscles, and sliding his hands up and down his solid torso. He liked the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair leading down from his navel into his waistband.

When he noticed the big, oblong bulge of Glenn’s penis, through his trousers, he blushed crimson and looked quickly away, which made Glenn chuckle. Not liking to be laughed at, Sephiroth set his jaw defiantly and put his hand on the bulge, squeezing it through the fabric.

Glenn laid his hand overtop of Sephiroth's and slid it up and down the thick shaft. To his astonishment, his own responded, beginning to swell and thicken inside his tight underwear.

Sephiroth had never had a reaction to any person’s body, male or female. He’d only ever felt something happening down there, when he was required to give semen samples, in the lab. 

The device used to collect the samples induced erection and stimulated him to ejaculation, without his participation. This was the first time he’d become erect on his own, aside from the normal, autonomic erections, when he’d first wake in the morning.

Those didn’t feel like this. Those he ignored and they went away, usually before he’d finished brushing his teeth. This was like an itch but deeper and more maddening. His penis was rigid and aching, and he could feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. He had to force back the urge to push it against Glenn, while they laid together, kissing and groping each other’s bodies. 

Glenn saved him the trouble, when he grabbed his ass and rocked his pelvis, grinding his much bigger shaft against Sephiroth’s. 

“Hm—ah,” Sephiroth panted. “I want…I want…”

Glenn’s breath was hot and wet on his ear. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“You want to fuck?”

Sephiroth’s body tensed with mild panic. “W—what? What do you—how can we…we’re both men.”  

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me,” Glenn said, grinning sheepishly. “I was just messing around. I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

Silver eyebrows lowered and pouting lips were pursed. “No, you wanted to gauge my reaction, without committing to anything. Now, tell me what you mean. Can two men really…do that, together?”

So deftly hoisted by his own petard, Glenn was at a loss, and became embarrassed. “Uh…um. Well, yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of ways. You can use your hands or your mouths, or—” 

“Mouths?” Sephiroth said, incredulous.

“Yep. You can even put it in the, uh. The back.”

“In the…” Sephiroth’s eyes went wide. “But why?”

“Because sex feels good? Why else?”

Sephiroth was thunderstruck. He’d only been taught about copulation between a male and female, so far as it related to reproduction. He’d never imagined that men would want to do this, with one another, when it served no biological purpose. No. He couldn’t see it. Glenn must be messing with him again. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you suggesting that it feels good, to have an erect penis inserted into your anus?”

“If it didn’t, millions of guys wouldn’t do it.”

“But it’s so small,” Sephiroth argued. “How does it…go in?”

“Lube and patience,” Glenn said flippantly, then cleared his throat. “It’s not that complicated. It’s very…stretchy, down there. You use a lot of lubrication and you put your fingers inside, first, to loosen it up. Once it’s stretched out and slippery, you can…you know. Go in.”

“And that feels good?” 

“I mean, it hurts, if you’re not careful. Especially the first time. But yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a shitload of nerves back there. Plus, the um. The guy’s dick rubs against your prostate, inside. It feels good, and you can even come that way.”

“Come?”

“E—ejaculate.”

This was an overload of information, for Sephiroth. The whole thing was too bizarre to imagine. Except that he suddenly did imagine it. Glenn on top of him, pushing his big, hard penis—wait, Glenn said dick, so he should say it that way—pushing his big, hard dick into him.

His head got hot suddenly, and his own dick throbbed with desire. He laid both hands on his cheeks, to cool off his overheated face, while he processed all of this. 

After a few minutes, Glenn nudged him. “Seph? You ok?”

“Hm?”

“You ok? You zoned out.”

“I—I’m ok. This is a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I had no idea you didn’t know this stuff. You said you’d had sex-ed, before.”

“I did, as related to biological reproduction. No one ever told me the…other things.”

Glenn looked awkward. “Ah.”

“Have you done it?”

“Huh? Done which?”

“Have you had sex with another man?”

“Well, yeah. I’m gay, so…”

“Gay?”

“Homosexual. That means I only have those feelings for men, and I don’t like women that way.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s that look? What are you thinking about, now?”

“I think I’m also gay.” 

“Oh yeah?” Glenn smirked.

Sephiroth nodded. “I tried to imagine doing the things I’ve done with you, tonight, with a woman, and the idea was repulsive. But I liked doing them with you. So, I must be gay.”

“I guess…I can’t argue with your logic. It just, uh. It seems a little quick for you to make such a big decision.”

“No, I’m sure,” Sephiroth said firmly. “I’m gay. I want to have sex with other men, and not women.”

“Well, um. Congratulations on your self-discovery.”

“Glenn, I want to have sex with you. The way you said. I want you to put your dick in—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. You just went from virgin who’s never even heard of being gay, to full-on put your dick in me mode, in ten seconds, flat. That’s way too fast, Seph.”

“How long did you wait, to have sex? After you realized you were gay?” Sephiroth challenged.

Glenn’s face went a little pink. “I’m not a good example. I was a rebellious kid and I lost my virginity pretty young.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen. Why can you decide what you want, at fourteen, but I can’t at fifteen?”

“It’s not that, it’s…there’s more to sex than just the mechanics. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I see.” Sephiroth lowered his head dejectedly. “It’s that you don’t want to do it with me.”

“No, no—don’t get all sad like that. You’re…fuck. You’re so gorgeous I can hardly believe you’re real. But you’re still just a kid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin, haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you did want to. I’m many times stronger than you.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” Glenn chuckled.

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So do it, with me.”

Glenn wavered, but he knew he was already a lost cause. Here was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on in all his twenty-three years, basically begging him for it. He was in no way equipped to handle this kind of temptation.

After some admittedly muddle-headed self justification, he grabbed the med kit and dug out a tube of surgical lubricant.

“Ok. Ok. I'm ready. Let's do it.”

“Shouldn't we take off the rest of our clothes, first?” Sephiroth pointed out.

“...”

The process of two people undressing in a one-person tent was awkward and unsexy, and the less said about it, the better. One way or another, they managed to get naked together.

Glenn felt like he was drunk or dreaming, mind sluggish and hazy with lust, kissing his way down this silky, seraphic body, pushing apart a pair of slender thighs.

“Hold your legs up, for me.”

Sephiroth pulled his knees up, making a face. “I feel stupid, in this position.”

“You don’t look stupid,” Glenn murmured, as he slicked his fingers with the surgical lube. “You look amazing. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sephiroth grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, as Glenn’s finger pushed slowly in, through the resistant ring of muscle. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it didn’t feel very good, either. Glenn took his dick in his other hand. Sephiroth gasped and jolted, as his hot mouth closed around the head. 

“G—Glenn!” he sputtered. “What are you…ha...ah!”

His protests unraveled into incoherent jumble, as Glenn took him all the way to the back of his throat. His big, calloused finger was still sliding in and out, and when it started pressing on something inside, Sephiroth had to bite into his forearm, to stifle his moans. It was like hot bolts of aching lightning, pulsing through his gut, into his balls, whenever Glenn’s finger prodded him there.

Glenn pulled off to look up at him, but he kept stroking it with his hand. His dick was leaking so much clear fluid, that it ran down Glenns knuckles. When he pushed a second finger inside, sephiroth choked and went quiet, but Glenn felt his insides clamping down tightly on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he breathed, watching the boy’s face, with heavy lidded eyes. “Good boy.”

“Hngh—ungh! Glenn! F—fuck!” Sephiroth’s first curse word came tumbling out of his mouth, as the aching tension wound to a peak and snapped. His narrow hips jerked and his dick convulsed, spurting viscous, milky-white, all over Glenn’s hand, as well as Sephiroth’s stomach and chest. His insides squeezed and contracted on Glenn’s fingers, as he massaged him through the spasms, milking out every drop. 

Glenn was so hard by now, the head of his dick looked swollen and purple, and ropy veins stood out all over the thick shaft. His balls were heavy and tight, high up against the base, aching for release. He squeezed out some more lubricant slicked it, generously. 

“Seph, I’m gonna put it in, now. Ok?”

“Mn…mm-hm.” Sephiroth nodded. 

With one hand on the back of the boy’s thigh, Glenn guided his dick with the other, to press the big, blunt head to the tautly puckered, pale-pink hole. Goddess, even lubed and stretched, the kid was as tight as a drum. Glenn pushed harder against the resistance and the head suddenly popped through. 

“Ah! It h—it hurts!” Sephiroth sputtered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Glenn hummed. “Just breathe and focus on relaxing. If you stay tensed up, it’ll hurt more.”

“O—ok,” the boy sniffled.

He was looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, half-lidded and pink around the rims, his lips wet and parted, and tears trickling down his temples. It took all of Glenn’s self-control not to plunge in even more vigorously.

With heroic resolve, he breathed slowly and forced himself to be patient. Easing in just a little at a time, paying attention to the boy’s whimpers and groans, watching his face screw up with pain, and relax again. His pale chest heaving, with his ragged breaths. The divine, velvety heat inside him, slowly, ever so gradually accepting his cock. 

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m all the way inside. You took it all.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at where their bodies were joined. Where Glenn's big, ruddy tree-trunk was stuck into his slender, white ass. His cheeks and chest were flushed pink and his body was trembling, perspiration beading on his forehead. 

“D—don’t move yet,” he stammered. “I’m not ready.”

“I won’t. Just breathe, baby.”

Glenn laid over him, kissing his lips and smoothing his hair back. Sephiroth’s muscles began to slacken, as his body acclimated to penetration, and his breathing became more normal. Keeping his pelvis flush against his ass, Glenn began to rock his hips gently, letting the boy get used to feeling a dick inside him, without the stress of him thrusting.

Glenn withdrew a little and pushed back in. “That feel ok?”

“Mm…ah. More. Give me more,” the boy slurred out, arching his spine.

Looking him steadily in the eye, Glenn began to slide out and rock back in, at a slow, gentle pace, pushing his achingly hard dick into the most divine body he’d ever touched. The boy’s velvety-hot hole resisted tightly as he pushed in, and sucked deliciously when he pulled out, till he was dizzy and euphoric, drunk on the absolute exquisite pleasure of fucking this angelic boy. 

A bizarre, aggressive instinct surged suddenly, inside him. He wanted to nail Sephiroth down, split him open, fuck him so hard he’d cry and beg for mercy. He wanted to pump him full of his seed, till it swelled his belly and came out of his mouth and nose. He’d never felt such a violent urge to dominate and possess any other partner.

He heard sephiroth whimpering and realized he’d been fucking him harder than he intended to. But even after he was aware of it, he found he couldn’t do anything about it. It was like he was possessed, by some beast in rut. 

“Sorry, Seph,” he rasped. “I c—I can’t stop.” 

He pushed his knees up to his armpits and laid into him, with ruthless energy. Sephiroth’s wet-kitten mewls only made Glenn’s burning desire blaze up even hotter. He held him down and kept thrusting, harder and harder, digging into him with his furiously hard cock, like he was trying to kill them both. 

His heart was thudding like a jackhammer and his muscles were on fire, sweat pouring down his chest and dripping from his chin, but he couldn’t come. He felt his dick swelling, getting harder and hotter, and his balls ached, so full and tight they felt like overripe melons, as they slapped heavily against the boy’s ass, but something was denying him release, holding him on the bleeding edge of orgasm.

He groaned, as the tension wound and twisted to impossible tautness in his gut. “I need to—I need to come! Please! Let me come!!”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to. The boy wasn’t stopping him, he was the one being brutally hammered by a maniac. 

“Do it,” Sephiroth panted. “C—come inside me.”

The pressure exploded like a bomb. 

“Haaa! Fuck! Ffffuuuck!” Glenn bit hard into Sephiroth’s neck, to muffle his hoarse cries, as his balls unloaded the longest, most excruciating, soul-drainingly intense orgasm of his life. He came so hard, he saw stars, feeling each individual spasm, as his dick forcefully expelled long, aching bursts of slippery-hot seed, filling the boy up and spilling out, around his shaft. Still, he kept thrusting convulsively, fucking every last drop into this perfect hole.

Half out of his senses, shaking and drenched with sweat, he collapsed on top of Sephiroth and immediately blacked out. 

—

“Glenn…” a voice said, from somewhere far above his head. 

“Hm?” he grunted, without opening his eyes. 

“Glenn,” it called again, clearer and louder. “Glenn!”

Oh, shit, it was Lucia’s voice! Lucia was going to find him and Sephiroth!

Glenn sat bolt-upright, in a panic, disoriented and temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the putty-colored canvas of his tent.

Wait…huh? He blinked blearily around, as his eyes adjusted. He was alone, in his sleeping bag, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

“Glenn!” Lucia shouted. “Wake up, asshole!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he called back, in his gravelly, sleep-rough voice. “Quit yelling, will ya?”

“If you answered the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to,” she retorted, giving the canvas a slap. “Hurry up and get dressed. Sephiroth caught some fish for breakfast.”

“Sephiroth can fish?”

She didn’t hear him, or more likely, didn’t care to deal with him anymore, and her footsteps went crunching away. Meanwhile, Glenn was searching his tent and person for evidence of nighttime activities, but there was none to be found. He was fully clothed, and his boots were neatly placed just inside the tent flap. His underwear, however, were soaked. 

He got up and wriggled out of his pants, then peeled off the sticky undergarment. Holy shit. He never came this much, even when he was conscious. He was almost impressed. 

That confirmed it, then. It was all a dream. He hadn’t  lost his goddamn mind and fucked his teenaged commander till he passed out, last night.

Relief so potent he nearly teared up washed over him. At the same time, there was a tiny pinprick of bitterness, in it. A faint feeling of loss, he couldn’t quite quantify. He ignored it and shook himself back to reality.

How fucking wild was that? He’d never had such an intense and vivid dream, in his life, sexual or otherwise. He could still taste the boy on his tongue and smell his warm, musky scent. He could still hear his whimpering moans, when he—oops, shit.

He stopped thinking about that immediately, and used some pre-packaged bathing cloths, to clean himself up, before hastily getting dressed and heading over to the campfire. 

Matt and Lucia were seated on the driftwood logs, drinking coffee from tin mugs, and Sephiroth was tending to some fat, juicy fish, he’d skewered on sticks, and was cooking over the fire.

“Morning, Glenn,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Smells delicious,” Glenn said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “You caught all these?”

“Mn,” Sephiroth nodded. “I was up early, so I thought I’d take care of breakfast.”

“Well now, that’s downright decent of you. Hey, can I get some of that coffee?”

“Kettle’s right there,” Matt said. “It’s just instant packets, from the MREs.”

“How early did you get up, anyway, Sephiroth?” Lucia asked, offhandedly, as she passed Glenn a mug. “I was out at sunrise, to report in, but I didn’t see you, anywhere.”

Glenn felt an ominous prickle on the back of his neck, but Sephiroth answered naturally, without a hint of anything off, in his manner.

“I went out before that. Fishing is easiest just before dawn and just after sunset,” he explained, turning the sizzling skewers over the coals. “Fish have poor eyesight, but strong shadows can scare them away. Plus, most of the insects they prey upon are crepuscular.”

“Well, that explains why I never catch anything,” Lucia grumbled. “Who wants to be out fishing at the crack of dawn?”

“You’ll never be a pro-angler, with that attitude,” Glenn chided. 

“There goes your fallback career,” Matt put in.

When the fish were done, Sephiroth handed them out, as-is, since the skewers obviated the need for plates or flatware. Then he took his own and sat beside Glenn on the log.

Glenn couldn’t help leaning back a little and surreptitiously inspecting the boy’s neck. In the dream, he had bit the kid hard enough that there’d be bruises for weeks, but it was smooth and white, and there was no hint of a mark.

“What are you looking at?” Sephiroth frowned (guess he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought). “Is there an insect on me?”

“Hm? Oh—uh. I thought there was but…it was nothing,” Glenn said awkwardly. “Thanks for the fish. Really, really good.”

“I wanted to do something, to thank you all for being so patient with me. Breakfast is the least I could do.”

Matt and Lucia chimed in with their accolades, and Sephiroth practically beamed, unable to conceal how pleased all the praise made him.

“Oh, and Glenn, I wanted to especially thank you, for last night.”

Glenn choked on his bite of fish. “W—uh. For—for last…for what?”

“Our conversation. It was very educational, so thank you.”

“R—right. No problem,” Glenn said miserably.

When breakfast was over, the group dispersed, to pack up their gear. Glenn was relieved to have a minute alone, to get himself together. He was so worked up, his head was spinning. He really had to stop eating whatever weird fruit he happened to find, on this island. These intense dreams were not good for his stress levels. 

He was rolling up his sleeping bag, when he froze, and his face drained of color. There, on his pillow, was a single, long, silver hair.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

was it a dream or not?? you tell me!

[madameaug]

LEAK?! || JK x OC

Pairing: Celebrity Jungkook x Non-celebrity Jennette

*note* this is not a cont of "Meet the Mod". I'm just writing ideas as they come to me (carry on :)

WC: 1.4k >

Warning: implied sexual encounter

------

Jennette patted herself on her back, proud that she stepped out of her apartment in a public space with the current shit show her relationship was in. Four months ago, the couple celebrated their second anniversary. Jennette made it a habit to have more intimate plans for their anniversaries as her boyfriend was one of the most popular male celebrities in the world. Fighting the swarm of fans and paparazzi would zap any romance the couple would try to keep. However, Jungkook was adamant this year, to do something outside of his luxurious apartment. He wanted to treat his lovebug.

And with genuine intention, he wanted their anniversary to be special. Jennette fondly remembered the day. They had a couple's massage, and Jungkook rented out a movie theatre so they could watch the Blockbuster hit 'Barbie'. A movie that Jennette was really looking forward to see, since the trailer dropped on YouTube. To end the night the pair ate at a five-star Brazillian steakhouse and filled their bellies with tender, well-seasoned poultry. For dessert, they took that back to the hotel room that Jennette happened to be staying at. In the room, the couple engaged in the most passionate, face-fanning, toe-curling rounds of sex.

Jennette saw stars that night. Their bodies molded into one. Jungkook centered on Jennette's pleasure, and Jennette did the same. The day was perfect. Til it wasn't.

Jennette had to leave South Korea to return to her work obligations in the United States. Her phone delivered a heart-dropping notification as she got off her connecting flight from Los Angeles to Atlanta. One that sourced anxiety in Jennette for the next four months. The hotel they were in for their anniversary placed a hidden camera in their hotel room. The camera recorded the intimate moment shared between the couple.

Clicking on the video, Jennette realized that only her voice and moans could be picked up on the video. She wanted to dig a hole and lay there for the rest of her life. Her gasps of pleasure were not available for the public domain to laugh and critique. Words only meant for Jungkook were now, being flipped to mock her. To make matters worse the leak occurred right as Jungkook was in the middle of promoting his single 'Seven'. He couldn't fly to Atlanta to comfort and soothe his girlfriend, as he would be in legal trouble for breaking those contracts.

Leaving Jennette alone to cope with the unwanted attention. She can't lie and say that breaking up with Jungkook didn't cross her mind. But she knew that was a cowardly approach to dealing with the situation. She loved him and would only be punishing herself with a breakup. Plus, it's not like Jungkook knew about the camera; she just wanted to lean on his shoulder for support.

"Jeanie!" Jungkook rushed over to his girlfriend, engulfing her in a hug. His outfit was so casual and baggy. A white tank top with a zip-up jacket. A gold chain that Jennette bought him for his birthday laid against his skin.

"I'm so sorry baby." Jungkook kissed her lips repeatedly expressing his feelings through his affection. His hands pulled her hips towards his pelvis wanting no space between them. Jennette slipped her hand around Jungkook's lips to stop the kisses.

"We need to talk." Jennette took Jungkook into her office building. Her job working within the capitol building in Georgia meant that this was the secured building she had access to. Cameras were not allowed within a 5-mile radius of the building or in each employee's cubicle. Meaning there was total privacy.

Jungkook took a seat in the small chair across from Jennette's desk. He took note of the framed picture of the two on her desk. It was a picture from Jennette's birthday party. Since her birthday was a few days before Christmas, Jennette chose the theme of her birthday to be the North Pole. Obviously, she and Jungkook were Mrs. & Mr. Claus. Jungkook was dressed like Santa with a fake white puffy beard and a fake belly. Jennette looked like Mrs.Claus. She wore a velvet red down with white cuffs. In the photo, Jennette and Jungkook are biting into a shared chocolate cookie. They were so cute.

"I can't believe this happened." Jennette paced in her office. Both her hands wrapped around the back of her neck. She rotated her neck in both directions, trying to relieve some tension in her body.

"I called Bang PD and he's got his best lawyers drafting paperwork to sue the hotel for everything. They won't get away with this."

Jungkook reached out to hold Jennette's hand. It was clear that Jennette was reluctant to accept Jungkook's affection. Her hand was limp within his. Eyes steady at the ground.

"Baby?"

It was hard for Jungkook to imagine how Jennette would respond to the leak. He wanted to call her several times over the four months they were physically apart. He wanted to get in her head, as it was rare for her to be so quiet about something like this. With this new attitude, he couldn't help but notice at the shorter text messages he was receiving. The lack of emojis in her text messages, and the increased grammatical typing in their text messages. It was like to she backtracking in the relationship. Speaking so formally to him, one time addressing him as his full name 'Jungkook'.

"Don't let this get you down, baby. We can come up from this." Jungkook so optimistically. A trait that Jennette genuinely loved about him, but now it seemed to annoy her.

"It's easy for you to say that, Jungkook, it's not your voice they hear. It's me." Jennette vented. While she didn't want Jungkook to necessarily be heard on the video, she just wished that she didn't have her entire look being picked through with a fine tooth comb. Before she deleted her social media pages, men sent her the most inappropriate messages, trying to learn more about her sexual desires. Some even outright sent videos of them pleasuring themselves to her moans. She felt dirty.

"Uh-uh. Don't call me that." Jungkook spoke.

"Jungkook I'm serious."

"Ow!" Jennette rubbed her bottom. Jungkook was quick with the heavy-handed tap he gave her bottom. She cut her eyes at Jungkook.

"Come here." Jungkook motioned to Jennette with his arms wide open. With a gentle tug, Jungkook wrapped his arms around her. His chin rested on her forehead. Jennette wrapped her arms around Jungkook, taking note of the wider shoulders he now has. Her fingers could feel the muscles on his back.

"I'm sorry. I've just been dealing with a lot." Jennette looked up at Jungkook.

"And I missed you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there four months ago. But I'm here now, and I don't plan on leavin' either."

Jennette leaned in closer and kissed Jungkook. The kiss was slow and tender. They took their time catching up with each other. Nothing seemed as important as them re-establishing that connection. The connection that got them through so much in the past. The same connection that would get them through this seemingly small hiccup.

"Why couldn't the video pick up you moaning." Jennette playfully rolled her eyes.

"I don't make noise baby that's why."

"Pfft. Please. 'Baby yes, yes. Do that again." Jennette deepened her voice trying to sound like Jungkook during the night in question. Both of them were quite vocal in the bedroom. That was how comfortable they were with each other.

"You gonna do me like that." Jungkook nuzzled his forehead against Jennette's. "If I recall, I was instructed to 'beat it up'. So I was just following your lead, baby."

Jungkook laughed when Jennette shoved his chest. She scoffed at his accurate account. She grumbled, 'whatever'.

"But on a serious note, don't stress anymore. I'm gonna handle this. I promise." Jungkook extended his pinky finger.

With a smile on her face, Jennette intertwined her pinky with his. If Jungkook said he was going to do something, Jennette believed it. Never once had he let her down.

"I know you will." Jennette waved their connected hands for a second, letting out a deep breath.

"And who told you to come out of the house looking this good?" Jennette joked. Jungkook smiled, feeling good, feeling the wall between them crumble down. While the leak wasn't under wraps yet, he still felt good. Things with Jennette were good. And in the moment, that was all that mattered.

A/N: Those who are in the path of the hurricane- pls stay safe !!!

A/N: Yall see JK's new cut, I'm kinda digging it

[arturodelisle]

Daily Routines self para cw: Hospital mentions, Tina's current situation

Arturo had been at the hospital so long it seemed as if the entire staff had learned his name. It helped that his name was written upon the white board on the wall across from Tina. It read all of her information; Her name, age, blood type, current attending nurse and doctor. Then, at the very bottom, ‘Arturo Delisle- Brother’ was written right below Tina’s Aunt Mary in thick, blue dry erase marker.

Maybe Arturo had lied, just a bit. Maybe legally he was not her brother, but it was not like the doctors were actually going to look for proof. To Arturo, however, it was true. Tina, Peter, the Boys, were just as much his siblings as Lilith was. They had been the only family he had ever had, having been orphaned before he could remember where he came from. The drama between them all, that only increased with time, the scrapes and strife- none of it changed Arturo’s view.These were his brothers and sisters, and he loved them. It was a large part of why their civil war had weighed heavily on him. They were supposed to be a family. They were always supposed to band together, and support each other. Their little misfit crew of people who had survived the worst the world could throw at them from the time they were born, together. Perhaps, Arturo was the only one kept up at night by the idea of losing a family again. Orphaned, shifted around foster homes -the others more than him- and it felt like he was the only one that was worried their family might never come back together. Arturo feared that he might truly be the only one who wanted their family to come back together. It all made no sense to him. Arguing over relationships was one thing, but Tina was in the hospital. She could die, and that should have been enough for everyone to put down the pitchforks for a moment and focus on what was most important.

So Arturo had sat there everyday, just in case none of the other boys showed up for her. To be certain that Tina always had someone there to sit with her, to talk with her, despite her comatose state. A part of him stayed each day in the hopes that he would see one of them come through the door with flowers, or a get well soon card. If not just showing up at all.

It had occurred to him that maybe the other boys were weary of showing up because they knew he’d be there. He knew none of them really trusted him anymore. It did not matter that he could see some of their side, and supported them too. At the end of the day he was always the baby of the family who clung to Tina and followed her around everywhere he could (whether Tina cared for that much was another story.)

Mostly Arturo was just terrified for his sister. No one could give him answers, there were only vague maybes, and facial expressions that were entirely unreadable to Arturo. He did not know how to help, or how to be useful to Tina, which had always been the foundation of their relationship. It had been exploitative and cruel in ways as children, but Arturo never minded too much, because being useful meant getting included. Being useful meant being important, even if it was because he was easy to push around. It did not change the fact that at the end of the day, Tina was still his sister..

He remembered how much joy it would bring him, as a child, whenever Tina would let him sit wherever she was and play with his toys. Even if they were not interacting at all, even if she didn’t seem particularly ecstatic about it, it was exciting to Arturo. The coolest big sister, who he looked up to more than anyone, would let him hang out in the same space as her. At some point that had evolved into them talking, and Tina taking joy in painting his nails, or testing various kinds of cosmetology on him. Even when the boys teased him for his painted nails, even when Tina’s scissors made a mess of his hair (which at first may have been intentional), Arturo had always been just so pleased by it all. His big sister had painted his nails, or cut his hair, and that meant it was perfect. 

He spoke with Tina almost everyday, even if it was just a simple text of some meme the other found funny. An exchange of ‘it’s so overs’ followed by ‘we’re so back’s. Sometimes there were deeper talks, and often Arturo simply invited himself over. It was nice. It was routine. It was them. Now he had not spoken with Tina since she ended up in the hospital. The ends of his hair were growing shaggier, and his last manicure from her was long gone. Arturo had tried painting his own nails, thinking perhaps it would be a comfort. He had sat at his kitchen table alone that night after getting back from visiting. It only took one nail before he had broken down sobbing harder than he ever could remember.

So Arturo went to the hospital every day, for as long as they’d have him, and do what he always did: sit quietly in Tina’s room. Sometimes he was silent as usual, and he would just sit and play puzzle games on his phone, or read. He would work on his course work for his university classes. Other times he gave her the updates while she lay there. Going on and on about all the minutiae of the cars he was working on, acutely aware that the only reason he could dump so much endless technical information was because Tina wasn’t there to remind him to hurry up and get to the point. He told her about how Bijou got into the trash again, that he got a vase from the Goodwill store and then promptly managed to break it, and that a cute girl came by the garage. He told Tina about how awkward he had been, and asked Tina if she thought he had a chance.

That time he cried as he told her about it. He just wanted Tina back. Arturo would give anything to just have his big sister back.

[theherosvillain]

7: (Say goodbye) To the life you make

Previous - Masterpost - Next

The light from the floor-to-ceiling windows was disorienting after being in the basement for so long, and seeing the rooftops of the surrounding buildings made me feel dizzy. I perched uncomfortably on the edge of a plush leather chair and watched Vale circle his desk. His office was pristine, modern, exactly how I thought the inside of his brain might look: everything polished and in its place. It made me feel the grime on my skin and the bruises on my ribs even more acutely. I didn’t belong here.

I struggled to focus beyond the dull throb behind my eyes as Vale handed me a bright white sheaf of papers. I held them gingerly in my fingers, feeling like I was staining them. “What is this?”

He stepped back and leaned against his shiny glass desk. I had the childish urge to smear fingerprints on it. “It’s your contract,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. Not that either of us cared about legality, but … “You know I’m a minor, right?”

“It’s not meant to be legally binding. It’s simply an outline of what will be expected of you as my apprentice.”

I let out a half-snort. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

His eyes narrowed in warning before his expression smoothed over. “Yes. I suggest you read it carefully. As long as you adhere to your expectations, I will uphold my end of our deal.”

“And your end is …?”

 “Training you to reach your potential, and ensuring the safety of your loved ones.” My grip tightened, crinkling the pristine papers. Right. Because it’s not like you’re the one putting them in danger, you bastard. Before I could say anything, he nodded to the contract. “Read it. If you have questions, I’ll be happy to clarify.”

Clarify. No bargaining. I was just supposed to read and understand. Begrudgingly, I turned my attention to the contract.

It may not have been legally binding, but it was written like it was. The words seemed to swim on the page, but I managed to grasp the important parts. Follow orders in a timely manner. Train and hone my powers as Vale sees fit. Don’t try to contact anyone from my former life. It was only a few pages, but my headache grew the longer I read. By the time I reached the end, I was barely breathing.

Any breach of these terms may result in the injury or death of a friend or family member.

Right below that was the glaring white space where I was supposed to sign my name.

For a few minutes, I just kept staring at that final page, denting the paper with my grip. Finally, I looked up. “What happens if you break the contract?”

Vale’s eyebrows rose, and he straightened his posture. “It wouldn’t be in my interest to break the contract,” he said. “I am the one who wrote it.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust that you’ll follow this agreement?” I didn’t have any power to bargain, I knew that. Maybe I just wanted to be uncooperative in the only way I could.

“I’m a man of my word, Phantom,” he said smoothly. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if I made a habit of lying or breaking deals.”

I frowned. Plenty of people hated Vale for his business dealings, and he wasn’t what I’d call an honest man. He was also blackmailing me in the most straightforward way possible. I wasn’t sure if I believed that he had his own kind of moral code, however screwed up it might have been.

Before I could come up with any sort of response, the office door burst open behind me. I shot to my feet and whirled around, coming face-to-face with a familiar trench coat-clad figure: Doctor Professor, a.k.a. Loren Bruce, my family friend—to whom I hadn’t exactly admitted my villainous activities. Loren knew me as Wren, and Doctor Professor knew me as Phantom. They just didn’t know we were the same person.

“Phantom—!” Doctor Professor cut themself off, eyes widening, when they saw my face. They stopped short, lips pressed together in a thin line of disapproval, a familiar gesture. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t have time before Ryker rushed into the office, out of breath, and grabbed Doctor Professor’s shoulder. “What the hell do you think you’re—?” he snarled.

“Let him go, Ryker. You’re dismissed.” Vale pushed off from his desk, eyes on Doctor Professor.

“But—” Ryker sputtered, red in the face, either from his shortness of breath or the indignity of being told to back off. After Doctor Professor had stepped down as Vale’s second-in-command—a story I wasn’t really privy to the details of—Ryker had taken their place. Given how reactive he was, I had no doubt he harbored at least some resentment toward Doctor Professor.

“Ryker,” Vale said, narrowing his eyes. That was all it took. Ryker released his grip, grumbling, and strode out of the office. I was surprised that he managed to keep the door from slamming on his way out. With him out of the way, Vale turned his attention back to Doctor Professor. “To what do I owe this visit?”

They clenched their fists. Since they’d entered the office, they’d been worriedly glancing over my injuries, although they hadn’t dared to step any closer to me. But now their eyes were only on Vale. “You know exactly why I’m here,” they snapped. “Vivienne told me everything.”

I felt a leap of hope in my chest. Doctor Professor had always looked out for me—both as Wren and Phantom. They’d been less than pleased about Vale’s interest in my powers, and had promised to kick his ass if he took it too far. While I was skeptical of their ability to, Doctor Professor was the only person I’d ever seen get away with telling off Axton Vale. If anyone could talk him out of this, it was them.

“Ah,” said Vale, looking unconcerned. “I should have realized she’d go to you for treatment. How is her injury?”

“If you care about her wellbeing, then maybe you shouldn’t have shot her. Regardless, I’m here to discuss Wr—Phantom,” they corrected themself. They had a good poker face; they didn’t even glance at me when they slipped.

I sighed, my grip tightening on the contract. “He knows,” I said bluntly. “All of it.”

Doctor Professor’s breath hissed through their teeth. “You’re going to let him go,” he said, pointing a finger at Vale. “He’s going to leave with me right now, or so help me God—”

“Doctor Professor,” Vale interrupted calmly. He crossed the office with the air of a leopard stalking its prey. “You don’t seem to realize how precarious your position is here.”

Their face contorted in anger, unafraid even as Vale passed by me, drawing closer and closer to them. I held my breath. I’d never quite managed to figure out their relationship. Doctor Professor had always seemed confident that Vale wouldn’t hurt them. I wasn’t so convinced. “This isn’t about me,” they growled. “This is about you thinking that you’re entitled to Phantom just because you’re his—”

“I didn’t have to let you leave, you know.” Vale stopped not a foot away, almost toe-to-toe with them. Doctor Professor was a good few inches taller than him, but it still felt like Vale was towering over them. “Everything you have now—your bar, your clinic, your child … you have all these things only because I’ve allowed it.”

Doctor Professor jerked as though they’d been slapped. “Excuse me?” Then they shook their head, glaring at him. “You don’t have to let me do anything! Contrary to what youmight believe, I’ve always had a life separate from you, and—”

“Again, do you think I couldn’t have kept you from that?” Vale cut in. “Do you think I wouldn’t have, if I’d had the inclination?”

Doctor Professor stared at him. Their throat bobbed as they swallowed, but their eyes narrowed. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting here, Axton,” they murmured

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told Phantom.” Vale leaned in, a hair’s breadth away from them. “You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to agree with it, but this is how things are going to be. Phantom is my apprentice now, and if you decide to interfere with that, you will lose everything I’ve so graciously allowed you to have.”

The air was still. My heart pounded in my ears as I watched Doctor Professor take it in, their face pale. “You can’t do this to him,” they said in a carefully composed tone. “You don’t need him that badly—”

“You know that’s not how this works,” he interrupted, something almost gentle in his voice, although his expression betrayed nothing.

Their hands curled into fists. “I won’t let you do this to him.”

Vale exhaled quietly. “Don’t make me do this.” A warning. A promise. He would destroy everything that Doctor Professor had worked for, but Doctor Professor wouldn’t be the only one hurt by it. Their clinic was the only reputable place in this city for villains to receive medical attention. Too many people relied on them. If they helped me now, it would severely undercut their ability to help anyone ever again.

My jaw clenched, and before I knew what I was doing, I’d stepped forward. “Stop,” I said. “Loren, I’ll be fine.”

They swiveled around to face me, mouth agape. “No, you won’t!”

I winced. I could always count on them to deliver the truth. “Okay,” I said, my voice wavering, “maybe I won’t. But your work is more important than me.” They looked taken aback, hurt on my behalf, but I knew they couldn’t deny it. How many people had their clinic saved? Hundreds? That was more than enough to justify sacrificing me—not that they wanted to. But there was no room for want here.

“It seems that Phantom has made his decision,” Vale said. “Now, if you don’t mind seeing yourself out, Doctor, we have business to attend to.”

I’d known Loren since I was a little kid. They’d always watched my back, especially after my mom was arrested, when I had few other adults on my side. So it was a special kind of soul-wrenching to see the helpless look on their face as they realized that they would have to leave me here. That there was really nothing they could do. I’d thought that I was coming to terms with my reality, but the realization that even Loren couldn’t get me out of this felt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound.

Loren looked at me with the kind of expression they might wear at my funeral. “I’m sorry, Wren,” they said quietly. Then they glanced sidelong at Vale, eyes narrowed and full of contempt. “This isn’t over.”

“It is,” Vale said. “Goodbye, Doctor Professor.” They held his gaze for a long moment before they turned and exited the office, the door closing with a soft click behind them. Vale let out a slow breath. “Well, then—”

Before he’d even turned around, I crossed over to his desk and snatched up a pen, signing my name in that glaring blank space, the shining black ink declaring that my life was no longer my own. I slapped the pen down. “Done.”

I sensed Vale approaching behind me. He picked up the pen and signed his name, too, much less violently than I had. “You made the right decision,” he said.

I took a deep breath and counted in my head, staring at a prism-shaped paperweight on his desk. When I got to ten, a crack appeared right down the center, marring the crystal-clear glass. “It wasn’t my decision.”

-

Title credits: To The End - My Chemical Romance

Tag list: @toyybox (if you want to be added, just ask!)

[nokingsonlyfooles]

The appearance of that child is incredibly appropriate but I don't think OP meant it that way.

We're not so concerned with kids who don't look like that.

Pls, don't touch the hot stove, but pls do help manufacture consent for setting more foreign-type children on fire (perhaps with white phosphorus).

And I must remind you (I really must, because you keep trying to forget) Biden kept separating families at the border under Title 42 and existing laws, right up until those scary conservative courts made him stop. Last month, that second ruling happened last month. And you can still use suspected abuse, crime, or lack of a legal parent or guardian as an excuse, if you like. And it only applies for eight years! And in the spirit of bipartisan compromise, Biden and Congress are amenable to making Title 42-style "protections" more permanent. This is all academic, it's politics. We need to harm some more immigrants to free up more money for Ukraine's defense and the genocide in Palestine.

How many children are you willing to harm to feel safe? What if we promised you didn't have to look at them, except in photos, and you could always block them or scroll past and ignore them?

Moving the harm somewhere more distant so you don't have to deal with it is not actually harm reduction.

This little missive has strayed across the dash of someone who had a serious freakout upon finding out Trump managed to deport 1/3 as many immigrants as Obama in as many years. Because we don't actually like to do the math on "harm reduction" in real terms. The human mind, the human heart, recoils from it. Rightly so.

So how dare you try to box me into doing it again, forever if necessary?

Utilitarianism is bullshit and I do not endorse it, but if you were honestly asking me to vote for the least harm, you'd have to be all for it. Trump could pull off FIVE 9/11s on US soil and not measure up to the damage Biden has okayed in Palestine - but if the loud, orange fascist did that we might fucking well do something about him instead of letting damage that can be seen from space go on in the background while we gear up to blame voters for yet another disappointing election. What's the least harm there? Do you have a crystal ball for sorting through all the implications down the line? 'Cos you'd NEED one to be sure.

Lacking reliable intel from the future, I can't tell you who will kill more children in aggregate, Biden or Trump. Hell, I can't even tell you how many white, blond American children will suffer under each. I'm fairly confident neither old man will go out of his way to hurt them, however. Their parents vote.

I am confident in saying, if you're in a position to write off Palestine and the US border, neither Biden nor Trump will do you much harm. You might see some scary stuff on the news that hurts your feelings, like during the Trump administration, or either Bush. Maybe COVID or the next pandemic or some random violence will hurt you, either way, but it won't be likely. But if it's Biden, you'll be a little better able to disengage. Look, I spent most of my life disengaged like that, until the concentration camps for tots showed up in my neighbourhood. That tends to wake a person up. We jumped out of bed and ran screaming for Canada as fast as we could, but not everyone can.

And that is why I qualify these rants of mine: I am not telling you how to vote. You have to make your peace with what you're able to do in your own way - and please do something! Your civic responsibility does not end with voting! However, if you have to lie to yourself and to me, I will call you out, from now until forever.

Put it this way: If Trump were determined to pull off FIFTY 9/11s in the US in the event of a Biden victory, and you knew he was gonna do it, who gets your vote? Why? Which of your values did you shitcan to make that decision, your devotion to harm reduction or your allegiance to democracy? Why? DON'T TURN YOUR BRAIN OFF AND DISENGAGE. You are responding to these sorts of questions every time you cast a vote, it's just painful to think about them. Why is that?

I don't cave to threats and bullying. I used to. Now I don't, and I'm not looking to get involved in another abusive situation. I don't expect anyone reading to cave to threats or bullying either. So, though you may feel threatened and offended by my failure to buy this narrative, it is not my intent to MAKE you deal with four more years of Trump. I am not holding that over your head to control your behaviour (that's Biden). The US electoral system is quite able to serve you four more years of Trump without my help, and blaming me for its failings will not change that. It may also produce that Biden victory you want! Nobody knows yet!

But it won't produce a "win" for human rights or democracy or whatever thing you're pretending is worth setting children on fire. There is no winning condition here, there is only a new circumstance you'll have to take into account when trying to protect yourself and others. The only thing anyone has "won" in US politics in my lifetime is more money and power, and that's not for folks like me. (I don't even want that shit.) Everything else is about assigning the losses to people we're okay with losing.

Yes, if that kid knocks that pan off the stove, they will be hurt. But maybe their parents will learn a valuable damn lesson about child-proofing, adult supervision, and a toddler's inability to respond to complex verbal commands. Because it's not the toddler's fault, now, is it? The situation is such that, given the opportunity, that kid is gonna grab that pan. And maybe knocking a pan off the stove is less harm to the toddler than the neglect continuing until they run into traffic at age 5 and get creamed by a bus. (Or, in political terms, World War 3 - now with more bombs!) In either case, it would be inappropriate to dump boiling water on a different toddler in order to protect the one in the picture. Child endangerment is not a zero-sum game.

And harm reduction is not about choosing who to harm. Back off and think about where in the HECK you are coming from to see it that way.

[Pardon my typos. My eyes are fucky.]

We really need to start actively describing liberal bullshit like “you CAN'T touch the hot stove" as coercion and a threat.

[allegra-writes]

"The Lesson"

Claimed series Part V

Armand x Daniel Molloy

NSFW

Warnings: Oof, let's see. Somnophilia, non-con elements, minor character death. I mean it, Daniel and Armand basically molest a sleeping or otherwise unable to consent woman, literally consume her as a meal and then proceed to get hot and heavy right next to her corpse. It is pretty misogynistic and I felt very uncomfortable writing it at times, but there is a plot reason for things to unfold the way they do this chapter. However, if any of this themes makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

They came in through the window, like the nightmare creatures they both were now. Armand first, of course, Daniel was still as clumsy as a newborn calf taking its first steps on a barn floor when it came to the flying gift, so naturally, his maker was already leaning over the sleeping figure by the time he made it into the room.

It was a nice room, with cream-colored walls and a narrow single bed covered in a deep midnight blue comforter. The closet, bedside table, and small desk were also painted white, to imitate a set, but upon closer inspection, Daniel could see the different styles and materials. Still, the mismatched furniture didn’t take away from the charm of the small space, if anything, it gave a kind of whimsical quality to it. There were makeup tubes and hair pins strewn among old notebooks, a colorful scarf on the back of a chair alongside a maid uniform, evidence of an ordinary, inconsequential life being lived. If life was ever inconsequential, Daniel mused as he examined the rare black orchid plant kept on a faux antique ceramic mug, the titles of the few books in a language he could speak: Radcliffe, Poe, Shelley. He could see what Armand had meant back down the street when he had first caught whiff of the girl, half in love with death indeed.

“Daniel,” Armand’s voice cut through his reverie, “quit your delaying”

Right. They were there because of him, after all.

“Beloved, you need to feed” The older vampire’s tone softened as Daniel reached him, “and I chose her just for you”

And wasn’t that just a whole other level of fucked-up, not only Armand’s words but also the way they affected Daniel, warming him up inside the way only a youthful-looking vampire with cooper eyes and coal-black curls who ordered the entire menu of a fancy restaurant for him, or brought home emeralds and sapphires the size of his thumb because they reminded him of his eyes could? But he was too old now, wasn’t he? To try and pretend to be at war with himself. The very least he could do was refuse to be a hypocrite and admit that, when it came to Armand, all his morals, all his idealism, all the equality and human rights he had fought so hard for his entire career, simply flew out the window. What did those matter anyway, when he wasn’t human anymore?

As in a trance, Daniel walked ahead to meet his would-be-prey.

She was lovely. Long brown hair spread on white pillows, older than his daughters -thank god for the small mercies- and paler too, all milky skin so thin he could see the veins running under it, a web of blue and purple strings pulsing with life and heat. Daniel’s throat went dry, the hollow inside his stomach growing deep and black and endless. He felt lightheaded, the weak, slow beat of his own heart reverberating in his ears. Reluctantly, Daniel had to admit to the hunger.

“She’s beautiful”

“She’s perfect” Armand corrected, as if offended by the imaginary implications that he would pick anything less than top quality for his fledgling. Daniel realized she truly was, the shape of her voluptuous and undeniably seductive under the light sheets, enticing in her trusting, helpless sleep. Was this how Armand had felt looking at Daniel? All those nights, so many years ago, when he would wake up to his demonic lover’s weight on top of him, buried fangs deep, cock deep inside of him? Had he looked like this, so innocent, so defenseless, so ripe for the taking?

The girl’s eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids, stirring under Daniel’s gaze as if even in her unconscious state she was aware of the danger. But the soft stroking of Armand’s knuckles against her cheek was all it took for her to settle again, relaxing into the mattress, lips parting as she sighed in contentment.

Armand leaned to place a chaste, almost sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Come nearer, beloved," his maker commanded, hands never stopping their gentle stroking of that warm, pink skin, "focus your attention on her. Can you hear it? Do you feel it?"

It wasn’t hard, to find her heartbeat and let it capture him. To let the half-formed whispers from her mind reach his, even in her sleep, her melancholy, her sadness, her indefinable longing.

“She yearns for it, the rapture, the embrace, something she has only but glimpsed in her dreams, but has slipped from her like water through her fingers,” Armand explained, “yet she knows it exists… Wouldn’t it be cruel, Daniel? To allow her to go on without it, bereft in the isolating wasteland of modern existence, unsatisfied, victim of brute men and their rough deceivings, abusing of her passion and neglecting her?”

If Armand expected a reply, he was left wanting it. Daniel was incapable of replying, mesmerized as he was by the graceful movements of his maker’s hands as it glided over the sleeping beauty in his arms, tossing aside sheets, pushing up her sleeping shirt, uncovering more and more skin as it went.

“Our embrace, my beautiful boy, can penetrate that isolation, can delve into the root of her soul, we can give her that ecstasy she craves. It would only be fair, you see, in return for the precious elixir of her blood…”

“Return?” Daniel frowned, even as his eyes were still glued to the place Armand’s fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her inner thigh, sliding down until they could hook around her knee, parting her legs for him to see.

“Yes, Daniel, in return” He could hear the amused smile in Armand’s voice, “If you thought I brought you here to feast on her sweet, unpolluted blood and give her only darkness for all reward, you misunderstood the whole affaire”

There was a connection there, some parallel to be drawn between all those threesomes back in the seventies, letting Daniel watch Louis feed from him, and what he was proposing now, but Daniel’s mind was too muddled by hunger and desire to be able to examine it. Too far gone to even consider the ethics of what he was witnessing, as Armand popped the buttons of the girl's shirt one by one, baring full breasts and pink nipples to Daniel’s ravenous stare. Armand’s eyes were just as greedy, making sure he had all of his fledgling’s attention before lowering his head to trail open-mouthed kisses down the woman’s neck and chest, and breasts, letting his fangs nip at the delicate skin of her areola, only lapping at the drop of blood that sprung from the tiny cut once it slid down the curve of her tit. The sleeping girl arched her back, the softest of sighs leaving her mouth, and Armand rewarded her by bringing one of his hands down to tease at her covered crotch with the pad of his thumb, a wet patch quickly darkening the light cotton.

“Would you like to sample, Daniel?” The dark-haired vampire asked, the very image of sin with his blood-stained lips and naughty little smirk. Throat too dry for speech, Daniel nodded.

Instead of offering up her wrist or her neck as he expected, his maker slid his hand inside her panties. Daniel watched it move obscenely under the fabric as Armand fingered her for a few moments, before taking his hand out and offering him the glistening digits for him to suck clean.

Obediently, Daniel crawled towards him, taking the proffered fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It wasn't as good as blood, at least, Daniel didn't think it was. The truth was in the forty-six hours he had been a vampire, Armand’s blood was the only one he had tasted. His maker had fed, oh, he had fed plenty, it was obvious by the searing heat emanating from him and by the flush darkening his brown skin, probably sneaking out to hunt while Daniel still slept. But he had only drunk from Armand. Their time since he had first woken up as a member of the undead was spent in a feverish haze of animal, lustful sex, and little drinks from each other. Still, Daniel imagined if there was something to come even remotely close to the blood, it was this, this sweet, almost cloying nectar from their delectable little bride.

Armand smiled at him adoringly, approvingly.

“After all these years, all the distance between us… you are still my good boy, aren’t you, Daniel?”

Before any reply could take shape inside his head, the lovely beauty trapped between them woke up with a start. Daniel could feel her confusion give way to terror, and then to recognition as she took in the monstrous apparitions sharing her bed. It was a surreal thing, to be able to spy, but only partly, on the silent conversation taking place in front of him.

“It’s you, it’s really you… I dreamed of you… No, I’m not afraid… I knew you would come, I knew both of you would come”

It was her the one to initiate the kiss, even if Armand was the one to gently push her into Daniel’s arms, she was the one to part her lips and slip her tongue inside the mouth of the young immortal, moaning as she cut herself on his fang in her eagerness to taste death.

The first taste of her blood was a revelation. It was like sunshine flooding his veins, waking his senses back to life, bringing everything into an even sharper focus. Even time seemed to move slower as he departed from her candied, wet mouth and sank his fangs into her dainty little neck.

There was a struggle, at the beginning. After the initial sobering stab of white-hot pain, she twisted and scratched and beaten at Daniel’s chest with all her might, but her feeble human strength was no match for a vampire, not even one as young as Daniel was, and soon enough she gave into the swoon, letting Daniel press her close to his chest. Letting the hard pebbles of her nipples rub against him, arching her back for him as she melted into his embrace, pliant and supple again. Letting her heat warm Daniel’s lifeless body. Letting her pulse feed Daniel’s veins with every beat, letting his heart feast on her own.

He caught a glimpse of the enchanting dream Armand had woven for her, of the slightly damp moss she laid upon as a fresh breeze graced her skin, of the crickets and forest creatures serenading her to sleep under the night sky bejeweled with the stars she loved so dearly, before her mind faded completely.

“That’s enough, lover mine” Armand coaxed, voice soft but firm, “let her go, lest she drags you into that gentle goodnight with her”

Daniel found that was easier said than done. Letting go of her was as difficult as leaving a cozy bed on a cold winter morning, but Armand’s insistent hands left him no choice but to comply. A soft thumb swept over his lower lip.

“So messy…” Armand mused before licking the blood off his chin and mouth, and yes, that was the taste Daniel had craved for all this time, better than the swoon, better than the blood, the sweetest taste was his maker, his Armand. It was as easy and natural as muscle memory to pull him in on top of him and guide him to straddle his legs. Even after all those years, after all he had changed both in life and in death, Armand still fitted with him like a puzzle piece, like a perfectly tailored suit, meant just for him. It was only right, to feel Armand’s possessive touch under his t-shirt, those impossibly soft fingertips trailing his ribs one by one, the scrap of those glass-like nails sending shivers over his entire body.

Daniel’s own hands weren’t idle either, bunching up Armand’s sweater to his armpits so Daniel could suck and bite at those sensitive nipples and hear the pornographic sounds Armand always made when he focused on that particular part of his anatomy.

“Love these tits” Daniel growled low and dirty against Armand’s skin, “prettier than any girl’s”

Armand’s moan was filthy as he tugged at Daniel’s hair hard enough to rip some strands from his scalp, making him almost dizzy with want, if such a thing were possible for a creature of the night. But Armand was so fucking perfect, so hungry for it, hips rolling against Daniel’s, hands ripping his shirt off his body, Daniel couldn’t help but think, for the millionth time, he was going to be his undoing.

“Hey! I liked that t-shirt” He protested, lying through his teeth cuz the truth was he couldn’t give a crap about the old, faded, grey piece of clothing. He simply wanted to hear Armand say:

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a thousand shirts just so I can tear them to shreds to unwrap you” Just like the old times, “You are my gift from Louis, my beautiful boy”

“Am I?” Daniel replied, defiant as always, “Why don’t you tie me up all tight and pretty with a bow then? What you waiting for?”

"So impertinent" Armand tsked, sliding his hand inside Daniel’s jeans in retaliation, "I would punish your insolence, but I know you'd only enjoy it"

Whatever reply hung on the tip of Daniel’s quick tongue, it was left unsaid as Armand’s fingers closed around his length.

It was still as intense, as electrifying, as debilitating as the first time. Daniel couldn’t help to throw his head back, his neck suddenly too weak to support his swooning head. Armand’s hand against his nape, however, pulled him back into place, probably so Daniel wouldn’t get a glance at the quickly cooling corpse right next to him.

“No, keep your eyes open, beloved. I want you to look” He commanded, sounding as breathless as Daniel felt. It wasn’t a hassle to obey, though, not when Armand was taking his own cock out of his pants, thick and long and pulsing with borrowed blood, Daniel couldn’t have taken his eyes off of it even if he had wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to.

Armand spat on his hand then, nasty and vulgar, before wrapping his hand around both their members. Fingers unable to surround both girths at the same time, he started slowly pumping his hand up and down, in the rhythm that was sure to drive Daniel mad.

What the technique might have lacked in physical stimulation, more than made up for in visuals, the image of Armand’s cock pressed against his, longer, leaking all over his, the contrast of his bronze skin against his, stone white and washed out, they way it seemed to grow and fill even more before his eyes, the way the veins popped…

“Armand…” Daniel pleaded, without knowing what for, “Need… I need”

“Yes, beloved” Armand replied, guiding Daniel’s face to his neck, “here, from my throat”

It was just what the fledgling needed, shuddering with the force of his release the very instant his maker’s blood hit his tongue.

“Yes, like that” Armand husked, the rhythm of his hand growing more and more erratic, the longer Daniel drank, “harder, take it all…”

Daniel bit down deeper, sinking his human teeth on the hard flesh, tearing muscle up, making Armand explode, copious amounts of hot fluid bathing his cock, splashing on his stomach.

He retracted his fangs then, but kept lapping at the open, messy wound with his tongue, relishing in the waves of both aftershocks combined, refusing to let the link between their minds shut down again, holding Armand’s shivering body close against his, uncaring of the mess. There was a desperation, a deep melancholy emanating from Armand’s thoughts as he came down, the same bone aching loneliness he had caught a glimpse of the very first time they had come together at that bar, eliciting the same ferocious devotion in him, and he suddenly understood…

The dance was finally over.

Daniel’s destiny had finally been fullfilled. The devil’s minion through and through, born, dead and reborn, at last reaching his final form. Forever servant and master to the ageless creature clinging to him.

Don’t let me go, it begged, don't ever let me go.

I won’t, Daniel vowed, knowing in his blood there would be no running away for him.

I won’t, a promise and a threat, I love you.

I love you, a blessing and a curse, I love you.

Forever.

Next part (back to 1973)

[mariacallous]

On the day Meta’s new app, Threads, launched, CEO Mark Zuckerberg explained that it would be “an open and friendly public space for conversation.” In a not-so-subtle dig at Twitter, he argued that keeping the platform “friendly” as it expands would be crucial to its success. Within days, however, Media Matters claimed that “Nazi supporters, anti-gay extremists, and white supremacists” were “flocking to Threads,” posting “slurs and other forms of hate speech.” The group argued that Meta did not have strict enough rules, and that Instagram, the platform that Threads is tied to, has a “long history of allowing hate speech and misinformation to prosper.”

Such concerns about hate speech on social media are not new. Last year, EU Commissioner for Internal Market Thierry Breton called efforts to pass the Digital Services Act “a historic step towards the end of the so-called ‘Wild West’ dominating our information space,” which he described as rife with “uncontrolled hate speech.” In January 2023, experts appointed by the United Nations Human Rights Council urged platforms to “address posts and activities that advocate hatred … in line with international standards for freedom of expression.” This panic has led to an explosion in laws that mandate platforms remove illegal or “harmful” content, including in the EU, Germany, Brazil, and India.

These concerns imply that social media is a lawless mayhem when it comes to hate speech. But this characterization is wrong. Most platforms have strict rules prohibiting hate speech, which have expanded significantly over the past several years. Many of these policies go far beyond both what’s required and permissible under international human rights law (IHRL).

We know this because the Future of Free Speech project at Vanderbilt University, which I direct, published a new report analyzing the hate speech policies of eight social media platforms—Facebook, Instagram, Reddit, Snapchat, TikTok, Tumblr, Twitter, and YouTube—from their founding until March 2023

While none of these platforms are formally bound by IHRL, all except Reddit and Tumblr have committed to respect international standards by signing on to the U.N. Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights. Moreover, in 2018, the U.N. special rapporteur on freedom of opinion and expression proposed a framework for content moderation that “puts human rights at the very centre.” Accordingly, we compared the scope of each platform’s hate speech policy to Articles 19 and 20 of the U.N.’s International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR).

Article 19 ensures “everyone … the right to freedom of expression,” including the rights “to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds, regardless of frontiers … through any … media of his choice.” However, this right can be subjected to restrictions that are “provided by law and are necessary” for compelling interests, such as “respect of the rights or reputations of others.” Article 20 mandates that “any advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility or violence shall be prohibited by law.” Any restrictions on freedom of expression under Articles 19 and/or 20 must satisfy strict requirements of legality, legitimacy, and necessity. These requirements are meant to protect against overly vague and broad restrictions, which can be abused to prohibit political and religious dissent, and to safeguard speech that may be deeply offensive, but doesn’t reach the threshold of incitement.

So how do platform hate speech policies measure up to these standards? In some areas, they are aligned closely. A decade ago, more than half of the eight platforms did not have an explicit hate speech prohibition. In 2014, only 38 percent of the analyzed platforms prohibited “hate speech” or “hateful content.” By 2018, this percentage had risen to 88 percent—where it remains today. Similarly, a decade ago, only 25 percent of platforms banned incitement to or threats of violence on the basis of protected characteristics, but today, 88 percent of the platforms do. These changes generally align with the prohibition on incitement to hatred under IHRL.

In other ways, however, platforms’ hate speech restrictions have mushroomed beyond the human rights framework. In 2014, no platforms banned dehumanizing language, denial or mocking of historical atrocities, harmful stereotypes, or conspiracy theories in their hate speech policies—none of which are mentioned by Article 20. By 2023, 63 percent of the platforms banned dehumanization, 50 percent banned denial or mocking of historical atrocities, 38 percent banned harmful stereotypes, and 25 percent banned conspiracy theories. It is doubtful that these prohibitions satisfy Article 19’s requirements of legality and necessity.

Many platforms’ hate speech policies also cover identity-based characteristics that are not included in Article 20. The average number of protected characteristics covered by platform policies has gone from less than five before 2011 to 13 today. Several of the platforms prohibit hate speech targeting characteristics such as weight, pregnancy, age, veteran status, disease, or victimhood in a major event. Under IHRL, most of these characteristics do not enjoy the same protected status as race, religion, or nationality, which have frequently been used as the basis to incite discrimination and hostility against minorities, sometimes contributing to mass atrocities.

Our research cannot identify the exact causes of this scope creep, but platforms have clearly faced mounting financial, regulatory, and reputational pressure to police additional categories of objectionable content. In 2020, more than 1,200 business and civil society groups took part in the Stop Hate for Profit boycott, which leveraged financial levers to pressure Facebook into policing more hateful content. Such concerted pressure creates an incentive to take a “better safe than sorry” approach when it comes to moderation policies. The expansion in protected characteristics may reflect what University of California, Los Angeles, law professor Eugene Volokh calls “censorship envy,” where groups pressure platforms to afford them protection based on the inclusion of other groups, making it difficult for platforms to deny any without appearing biased.

Most platforms refuse to share raw data with researchers, so identifying any causal link between changes in policy scope and enforcement volume is difficult. However, studies in the United States and Denmark suggest that hate speech comprises a relatively small proportion of social media content. There are also numerous examples of hate speech policies causing collateral damage to political speech and dissent. In May 2021, Meta admitted that mistakes in its hate speech detection algorithms led to the inadvertent removal of millions of pro-Palestinian posts. In 2022, Facebook removed a post from a user in Latvia that cited atrocities committed by Russian soldiers in Ukraine, and quoted a poem including the words “kill the fascist,” a decision that the platform’s Oversight Board overturned partially based on IHRL.

he enforcement of hate speech policies can also lead to the erroneous removal of humor and political satire. Facebook’s own data suggests a massive drop in hate speech removals due to AI improvements that allowed it to identify posts that “could have been removed by mistake without appropriate cultural context,” such as “humorous terms of endearment used between friends.” In 2021, the U.S. columnist and humorist David Chartrand  described how it took Facebook all of three minutes to remove a post of his that read “Yes, Virginia, there are Stupid Americans,” for violating its hate speech policies.

Our research shows that the hate speech policies of many platforms currently don’t comply with the human rights standards they claim to respect. So perhaps the right analogy for social media is not a lawless Wild West—but rather a place where no one knows when or how the ever-changing rules will be enforced. If so, the right path forward is not to make these rules even more complex.

Instead, platforms should consider directly tying their hate speech rules to international human rights law. This approach would cultivate a more transparent and speech-protective environment, though it would not eliminate erroneous or inconsistent policy enforcement and would leave up a lot of offensive speech.

Alternatively, platforms could decentralize content moderation. This option would give users the ability to opt out of seeing content that is offensive to them or contrary to their values, but it would also protect expression and reduce platform power over speech. Meta seems to envisage steps in this direction by making Threads part of the so-called fediverse, meaning that it enables users to connect with users on platform protocols not controlled by Meta. Combining IHRL and decentralization is also possible. Content moderation and curation could be decentralized, with the requirement that third-party algorithms still respect international human rights law. None of these options will be perfect or satisfy everyone. But despite the very real challenges and trade-offs that they entail, they are preferable to the status quo.

[cdreemurr84]

The Most Unlikely Thing

A Stolitz Wedding One-Shot

Inspired by this lovely art by @sator-the-wanderer on Instagram (Link at the end)

(Note: This is my first time writing with Helluva Boss Characters—I was worried they wouldn’t be in character, but I hope you enjoy!!)

Most would say a night like this would never happen. That it was one of the many outlandish and downright ridiculous thoughts that appeared within the mind of anyone who knew them. If you said it outloud, you’d get a quick laugh out of the person you told, then the subject would be changed in an instant-as if it was never said at all.

Moxxie had that thought once. Right around 2AM he woke up from an uneventful dreamscape, and processed the thought with every ounce of his intellect. Even after that, it still made no sense. He turned to Millie’s side, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“Millie? Are you awake?”

His wife stirred for a moment, a small yawn before she responded. “Yeah, Moxx?” She mumbled.

“I...had a weird thought..” He sat up, running his hand through his snow-white hair, soon scratching the top of his head.

“What was it?” She sat up a little, both curious and worried about what he might be thinking.

“Well-” He paused for a moment, giving the room a good look around before he continued. If a certain someone was here, listening, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. “It’s about Blitz and uh...Prince Stolas.”

Millie’s golden eyes widened as her tail started swishing like a curious cat. Any worry she had was gone, now she wanted to know all the details surrounding this. “Well?? Don’t keep me in suspense!” She smiled eagerly, shaking him by the arm a little.

“So like...and this is just a hypothetical..” He chuckled, smiling nervously for a quick second. “I just wondered for a second...well..” At this moment their eyes were locked, Moxxie’s face now torn between smiling or frowning. He had no idea what to feel. “Do you think they could ever...end up like us?”

Millie tilted her head, raising a brow. “Ya mean like...married ‘n stuff?”

Moxxie nodded a few times. “Yeah, Yeah! Do you...do you think-?”

She put a hand on her chin. “Well...I don’t think it isn’t possible. I mean...I’m pretty sure...excluding their little agreement...maybe they do like each other..”

“Do they though?” He started to lay down again, now staring at the ceiling. “I mean clearly Stolas likes him to the point where he won’t stop gushing over him. But...Blitz?”

“Who knows, hon. Blitz hardly talks about how he really feels. Maybe he does. And maybe one day they will…” The last thing didn’t sound so sure.

Moxxie turned his head. “But?”

“All relationships are complex, Moxx. And those two? Hell, it could take them years before they even think about something like that. But then again…”

“What?”

“Sometimes the thing you least expect might happen sooner than you think.”

Moxxie blinked a couple times, squinting a bit. “Sooo...you do or you don’t think they could-” He was interrupted by Millie giving him a kiss on the lips. She turned the light off next, shifting back into her sleeping position.

“Goodnight, Moxxie.”

Moxxie sighed, slowly closing his eyes as sleep began to cloud his mind again.

He still couldn’t believe he actually thought that. Although it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it still surprised him no less. But despite how much he just wanted to forget it, it made him think about what Millie said.

It was true Blitz was starting to show a small glimmer of affection towards the Goetian Prince, especially since the rescue from a few nights ago. The concern and sudden display of power through a demonic transformation was enough to make Blitz gawk at the sight of it. And the way Stolas gently cupped his face asking if he was alright afterwards made everyone else in the room stare, Blitz feeling slightly embarrassed by the whole situation.

Yet it still made him think that maybe...just maybe something like that could happen. But that wasn’t up to him. Whatever they decided would leave this idea, this thought, completely within the hands of faith itself.

And with that, Moxxie fell asleep.

———————

Three years ago, it was never spoken of outside of that one night. And neither of the two had ever acted upon such a decision until much much time had passed. But now the stars were in their favor.

The sky was a dark, beautiful crimson that had mixed with a captivating wine purple. The stars were scattered, dusting the sky and turning it into a dazzling display of twilight.

They had kept it small, the only ones being present were close friends and family—which was basically four people. But it didn’t matter how many people were there, or where they did it. All that mattered was that it happened—which had ended up on the roof of I.M.P’s office building.

The vows had been short, with a few important bits here and there; Moxxie having to be both the one to wed them and the best man to the boss himself. He wasn’t sure he had the exact authority to do so, but both explained it was better than having someone else they didn’t know. Because once this got out, they’d have a whole other thing to deal with. But that was a future problem they would solve when it became relevant to them.

Blitz was given a stepstool so he could reach Stolas without having to stand on the tips of his toes. He didn’t want the stepstool, saying that he’d look like a complete joke. But if Stolas had to lift him up for this part, he would be unable to think clearly from the embarrassment.

Stolas didn’t seem to care how many people were present, or where they decided to host the reception. There was only one thing that mattered in this moment, and the smile of genuine compassion refused to leave his face the entire night. Blitz looking up with him while trying to contain himself only seemed to make him smile more. He was adorable.

Both eagerly waited for Moxxie to finish up, Blitz trying to keep himself from falling off the stool by how much he was moving. Of course he stood perfectly still once he heard the last few words out of Moxxie’s mouth.

“You may now kiss—”

Blitz practically jumped into Stolas’ embrace, quickly locking lips with him as the two slowly started to get lost in intimacy.

The four clapped while giving the newly weds smiles of congratulations. But those quickly faded away when they noticed the two weren’t paying attention anymore. The passionate kissing lasted for almost two minutes before Loona had to break them away from each other.

“Hey, lovebirds. Maybe wait till none of us can see you.” She rolled her eyes, putting Blitz down after basically pulling him off of Stolas.

Blitz put a hand on his head, taking a look around. “Oh shit, I forgot we were doing this.”

Stolas bent over with a light chuckle, booping Blitz’s nose. “-and aren’t you so glad we did, Blitzy~?”

The Imp pushed his face away as he blushed a bit more. “Yeah yeah just…don’t make it a bigger deal than it already is..”

“Looks like someone’s trying to pretend he can’t be romantic for once.” Moxxie smirked, making Blitz turn around in retaliation. His face was now a different form of red.

“Well you know what, Moxxie?! You—!” Then he stopped, biting his lip as he put his accusing finger away. “You…did..a good job…tonight..” He mumbled under his breath.

Moxxie kept smirking, raising a hand to where his ear would be. “Oh, what was that? Could you repeat what you said a little louder?”

Blitz shifted uncomfortably, hoping this was the last time. None of this was like him. And in front of his entire friend circle too!

“You…didagoodjobtonight..” He said it louder as per Moxxie’s request, just a bit faster than normal. Now everyone heard him…however-

“Maybe a little louder…and slower?” He leaned in closer.

“Goddammit, Moxxie! I already held back insulting you just let me have this!” He snapped a little, making everyone else just laugh in response. Moxxie put a hand on his shoulder, his smile genuine.

“Thanks, Blitz.”

———————

The rest of the wedding had lasted a couple hours. Since the group was so small, dancing and talking underneath Hell’s strangely unnatural starlight felt more meaningful.

Eventually, M&M had to leave. But they wished the two best of luck, the wedding present they got the only thing left of them from tonight. Octavia and Loona decided to head inside the office to give their dads space. Now that they were legally sisters, hanging out would feel more genuine. Like you had someone else there looking out for you. Loona now was able to shout anything about being her big sister to anyone who tried to mess with them.

Up on the roof, Blitz and Stolas were laying down on what used to be the tablecloth to the buffet, staring at the stars. Blitz had taken advantage of using Stolas’ chest as a fluffy pillow. It was so comforting, like he could just lay there forever and never get up. But then…something did make him get up. He sat and hugged his knees close, his expression somewhat distraught. His eyes turned briefly to the owl demon, feeling strange.

“Stolas?” He finally broke the silence.

Stolas had already taken note of Blitz sitting up. But he quickly sat up when next he saw his partner’s face.

“What’s the matter, Blitzy? Are you feeling alright?” His questions were genuine, making Blitz feel worse.

“Is this…is this what you want? Do you really want…me?” Something in his voice cracked and that made Stolas’ heart feel a strike of pain.

“Of course I do! Tell me, what brought this on?” He held Blitz’s chin in his hand gently so their eyes met once more.

“It’s…It’s just how we started out. And everything after that…I don’t know why it took me so fucking long to actually admit that I…” He paused. “…felt this way.”

“And?”

“And…I didn’t think that you would actually..! You…You said yes.” His eyes started to water. “Why the hell did you say yes?!”

Stolas pulled him in close, caressing his back. “Because I love you, Blitzy…And you being there all those times, even when I didn’t truly feel this way—it still meant something to me. And I know it meant something to you.”

Blitz let out a crying sound, something he would never do. At least, not in public. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but he just felt so vulnerable now…and he hated it. Stolas quickly responded to this by cupping his face and lifting it up so they were at eye level again.

The Imp’s lip was quivering and his eyes were bloodshot enough to almost blend in with his eye color. The tears were staining his cheeks, big droopy ones making him look like an absolute wreck. He looked even more embarrassed now than he did before.

Stolas wiped some of the tears away with one of his hands, a comforting smile. “Oh, Blitzy…do you think we’d really be here if I didn’t feel this way?”

He sniffed, trying to contain himself before he responded. “No..None of this would be…” He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m so used to pushing people away I never thought you’d actually stick around.”

Stolas gave him another kiss, shorter than before, but something about this one felt even more emotional than the last. Something about this one made Blitz want nothing more than to be with him. No matter what his fears were telling him.

“I love you, Blitzy…” It was the third or fourth time he had said it tonight, but this time it felt deeper.

“I love you too, Stolas…” He returned the kiss, both landing back down on the floor.

It was at that moment they refused to let this feeling leave them. For even though the memory of this magical night would fly by, they would never ever forget it.

End.

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[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {4}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2429

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

October 1940, The Autumn Court

Major Cassian Nazari was bored.

Nesta could sense it from where she was, back turned to him at the other end of the tent. It had also been a sign when she came in that morning and he was complaining, loudly, to Madja. I don’t see why I can’t get up and walk around. I’m fine. And bored shitless.

Madja, of course, had told him, Very well, Major. Do as you wish.

Cassian had taken two steps before a wave of nausea hit him from the pain, and he was throwing up his breakfast. After a dose of pain medicine, he had fallen asleep.

Now, he was awake, his pains were dulled, and he was loud.

Loud, and having a one-sided conversation with the unconscious soldier next to him about his favorite brands of whiskey.

He was just getting to the pros of living near a distillery, back in Velaris, when Nesta approached his cot. He glanced over to her and gave him a smile. A sleepy, drug-induced smile. “Nurse Nesta.”

“Major,” she replied, sitting next to his bed. “How are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Feeling great. Ready to get back out there.”

“Really now?” She asked, feeling his head for fever. He’d been warm after getting sick and she wanted to check and be sure they hadn’t missed some sign of infection setting in. His skin was cool as could be now. “So this morning was just a reaction to the breakfast porridge?”

He got quiet immediately and rolled his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” She helped him sit up and checked the wounds on his back. They weren’t healing like she would have liked, but it was also likely he could have used stitches over a few of them. His burns were healing nicely though, even though she knew they still caused him quite a lot of pain. The broken arm and shoulder were the same.

Now that his shoulder was set correctly, it was all about keeping him still, which seemed to be a continual problem for him.

“I can’t sit here forever,” he claimed. “I’ll go insane.”

“You need something to occupy your mind,” Nesta said. “I’ll bring you some books.”

Cassian snorted. “Your romances? I’ll pass.”

Nesta huffed and shook her head. “Has anyone ever told you how difficult a man you are?”

“On many occasions,” Cassian noted. “Mostly women.”

Nesta sighed and helped him fall back against his pillows. “I’ll be back.”

“Good,” he muttered with a yawn as she walked away. After telling her fellow nurses she’ll be back in a moment, Nesta exited the tent and walked to the one just across the way from it, where the nurses slept. She strode to her tent in the far corner and grabbed an old western romance that he would surely read if bored enough, then pulled a suitcase from underneath her cot and popped it open.

The old, folded-up wooden chess board that sat inside had once belonged to her father. They used to play often, before the death of Nesta’s mother.

All the pieces were slightly dusty, but still in good shape. She picked up one of the ivory pawns, wiping it off with the apron tied around her waist, careful not to get any blood or antiseptic lotion on it. Without the dust coating it, the piece shined and she replaced it in its home before cleaning off each piece. She closed the suitcase, carrying it, the book, and a small, foldable tray back across the camp, and into the med tent.

As soon as Cassian saw her, he zeroed in on the case. “What’s that?”

“First,” she said, sitting down and holding the book out for him. “I brought you this.”

His face twisted with a twinge of pain as he reached out and took it, opening it and flipping through it. He paused on a random page and read a few lines. His eyes widened. “This is…explicit.”

Nesta’s cheeks reddened.

“It’s a romance,” he groaned.

“It’s an old western,” she defended. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s a very good book.”

Rolling his eyes, Cassian sat it on the side table, but pointed at the suitcase, which she had set down to unfold the tray. “And what’s that?” He repeated.

Nesta set it on the end of his cot and opened it. “Until I’m needed, we’ll play chess.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before repeating, “Chess?”

She lifted a brow as she set up the board, on top of the tray. “You’re complaining about the forms of entertainment I offer?”

Cassian hesitated, and Nesta secretly liked that hesitation. For once, a comment made by her actually made him think. Usually, he was so quick on his feet. She liked it when he wasn’t.

“Fine,” he said, at last, clearing his throat. “But, it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You may have to refresh my memory.”

She suppressed her smile, moving the tray just next to his bed, so it would be within his reach. “I can do that.”

He nodded, grunting as he got himself into a sitting position. Nesta made a move toward him, but he held up a hand, letting him know he could do it on his own.

Even if it was just barely.

She laid out the pieces, almost reverently, but quickly and efficiently. She didn’t have to think about where the pieces went and before he knew it, the board was set in front of them. The white pieces sat on his side of the board, the black on her own. She gestured for him to make a move.

He reached for one of the pieces in the front, but then pulled his hand back. Twice, he repeated the movement, before clearing his throat and saying, “Ladies first.”

“That’s not how chess works, Major,” she chuckled. “White goes first, black second.”

He nodded and stared back down at the board. “Right.”

Picking up one of the pawns, Cassian moved it diagonally, as if it were a checker.

Nesta blinked, waiting for him to move it back or chuckle as if he were playing a joke. “That’s not how you move a pawn forward.”

His cheeks heated and she knew he was embarrassed. “Well not all of us grew up as well off as you were.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta was unable to stop the surprised chuckle from bubbling from her lips. “Excuse you, sir?”

“I’m just saying, only spoiled, rich girls grew up playing chess.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry at his words. “You don’t know how to play chess, do you?”

“I told you I would need your help.” He wasn’t looking at her, just the board and pieces.

“When’s the last time you played chess?” She asked.

He shrugged. “Never.”

Nesta stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. “Never?”

Cassian’s head fell back and he groaned. “Nurse, are you going to make me ask you to explain the rules to me or do I have to make a fool of myself any longer?”

Nesta pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Very well.”

She went on to explain the rules to him, then just to make sure she was not setting him up for failure, she explained the rules to him, again.

The pawn can move one square, unless it is the first time they move, then they can move two. It can’t move backwards. They can capture pieces on either space, diagonally, in front of them.

The knight moves in an L shape. Don’t ask why.

Bishop is a bit of a roamer. It can move in diagonally, as many squares as it wishes.

The rook can move both horizontally and vertically, as many squares as it wishes, as well.

The Queen is basically the best, most important piece. She can move however she wishes, wherever she wishes.

Cassian stared at the board thoughtfully. “Hmm. And the king, again?”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “He can move only one square in any direction.”

“And he decides who wins the game?” Cassian asked, head cocked to the side as he stared at the board, trying to imagine it all.

“More or less, yes,” Nesta said, watching him study the board. “When a player attacks the other’s king, it’s called a check. A checkmate, or the win, is what happens when the opposing king can no longer make any legal moves.”

“So you must protect the king at all costs, then?” Cassian asked. “That’s the purpose of the other pieces?”

“It is,” Nesta nodded.

“And that’s why the queen is such an important piece?” he continued, meeting her gaze. “Why she has the most freedom? To protect her king?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Speaking like that, I cannot believe that you don’t admire a good romance novel.”

“I already told you, I don’t think women are meant to stay home and do nothing but become mothers,” he replied, reaching out and moving his own piece properly this time. “However, a boring book about two people falling in love? No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Falling in love isn’t boring,” she defended, moving her own piece.

He grunted in answer, making his move.

Nesta looked at him, gauging his non-reply. “Have you ever been in love, Major?”

“Now who’s asking the personal questions,” he muttered, waiting for her to take her turn. She did, silently waiting for him to answer. He picked up the piece, studying the board, though barely anything had been done to need strategy yet. “No. I haven’t.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before looking back down at the board. “Interesting.”

Cassian moved his piece at last. “Don’t worry, plenty of women have been in love with me, I just haven’t returned the feeling.”

Nesta couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “Of course you would think so.”

Cassian’s grin told her it was all just a joke, but Nesta had no doubt that Cassian had had his fair share of women throughout the years.

“What about you?” He asked. “I know about your ex, of course, but have you ever been in love?”

It was Nesta’s turn to be quiet, but she pretended to be thinking over a move. “Yes,” she finally admitted, moving one of her knights, which had finally been unblocked by her pawns. “At least, I think so, at least. Things with Tom were…complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing,” he replied, mirroring her own move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, finally catching on to how he’d been playing. She said nothing about the game though, and continued on. “There’s a reason we aren’t together anymore, if you recall.”

Nesta moved another piece and he asked, “Would you go back to him? If you found out he’d been waiting for you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, still staring at the board, if only to keep from having to look at him. “His family was much better off than mine, which was the reason for our engagement anyways. I came here to keep my sisters from having to do so.”

“That doesn’t sound like love,” Cassian murmured, taking his turn.

“And what makes you such an expert on the subject?” Nesta snapped.

Cassian slowly met her eyes once he set down his knight. He didn’t look offended by her tone. Instead, he remained quiet for a moment, then said, “I may not waste my time reading romance novels, and I may have never been in love, nurse, but I have plenty of experience in what love is not.”

She couldn’t place it, but she didn’t like why his voice became so…sad when he said it. “I didn’t mean to react in such a way,” she replied, not even paying attention to the moves she was making at this point. “I’m just not…accustomed to talking to anyone about these sorts of things. Especially a patient.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

Nesta nodded and broke his gaze as her eyes settled back on the board. After a moment, she moved her queen and said, “Check.”

Cassian blinked, eyes darting to the board, trying to find how his king was in jeopardy. Once he saw it, he tried to figure a way out of it, but after five minutes of thinking, he knocked his king down in surrender.

Nesta suppressed her smile as she outstretched her hand. “Good game, Major.”

He chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice lie, nurse.”

“Perhaps we can play again tomorrow,” Nesta asked, with a questioning tone.

Cassian met her eyes, and the edge in them softened as he said, quietly, “I would like that.”

She nodded and began putting it away as a few nurses entered the tent with big boxes in their arms. “Looks like we got some care packages from Velaris, gentlemen.”

Cassian’s brows rose, and Nesta chuckled at the excitement that flooded through the tent from those who were awake. In a war, it was the little things that made it all better.

Nesta placed the chessboard beneath Cassian’s cot and rose to help the nurses go through the boxes. With everything they pulled out, there was an announcement.

We’ve got candies!

Homemade breads and jams!

The funnies from the newspapers!

Tea!

Nesta reached into the box and pulled out a big carton and announced, “Cigarettes!”

That one got a round of applause, but nowhere near the number of cheers that the whiskey got. It went on for another few minutes, and then for the first time in quite some time, something that resembled joy could be felt in their little war camp.

As the goodies were dispersed, Nesta’s eyes kept trailing to Cassian.

She was surprised to find his eyes on her as well. Carrying one of the small bottles of the cheap whiskey that had been sent, she found herself standing beside his cot. She set the bottle down on the side table, along with a pack of cigarettes, and said, “Might not be the brand you prefer, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d drink anything right about now, brand doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “If you could possibly get me some of that sweet bread and blackberry jam though, it might make it just a bit easier to go down.”

She shook her head, saying, “You’re unbelievable.” But she knew she would get it for him, she’d make sure of it.

Because his smile was the first thing that made her own appear without being forced in quite a while.

[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[star-killer-md]

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that. 

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for. 

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.” 

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff. 

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair. 

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.” 

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.” 

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing. 

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.” 

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same. 

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob. 

Definitely not.  

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things. 

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed. 

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway. 

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you. 

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early. 

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily. 

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges. 

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font. 

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied. 

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence. 

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient. 

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms. 

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.  

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.” 

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway. 

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before. 

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall. 

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him. 

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in. 

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey. 

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook. 

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side. 

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—” 

“She’ll be busy.” 

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.” 

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.  

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth. 

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience. 

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened. 

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious. 

And left you seething nonetheless. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it. 

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was. 

The quiet before the storm and all that. 

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.” 

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted. 

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape. 

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers. 

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle. 

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket. 

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time. 

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped. 

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. 

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren. 

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh. 

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—” 

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.” 

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers 

biting into your jaw. 

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them. 

“Answer.” 

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control. 

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear. 

“Swallow.” 

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice. 

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement. 

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin. 

But it was very clear to you what he really meant. 

Remember who you belong to. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet. 

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.” 

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him. 

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there. 

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock. 

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either. 

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure. 

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.” 

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside. 

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you. 

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.” 

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching��Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire. 

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length. 

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours. 

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock. 

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”  

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him. 

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt. 

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth. 

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him. 

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure. 

Oh you were so royally fucked. 

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you. 

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore. 

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.” 

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length. 

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it. 

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was. 

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose. 

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door. 

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence. 

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.” 

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day. 

Maybe that didn’t matter either. 

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it. 

[infinitegalahad]

HOW TO SAY I LOVE YOU (WITHOUT SAYING I LOVE YOU)

Summary: Everybody in Easy Company can see that Shifty is like a love-sick puppy with a cute truck driver. He loves her, but he's too shy to confess. Popeye, his best friend, can no longer stand to see it. Floyd Talbert is the man of the hour and knows how to get Shifty, who can barely say I love you", to say those three words without actually saying the words. The way to solve this pining? A classic carnival date.

Word-Count: 7.4k

Notes: Howdy y'all! Once again, I am back from the dead! School has been a little crazy lately. I'm still working on requests and opening up some prompts, but I have two essays that are due in a month and aka-my life is a mess but...writing. I hope you guys will forgive me for dying and take this tooth rotting fluff of Shifty and cheeky tab! Shifty basically has a phd in being adorable. It's pure fluff, not a single ounce of angst! Once again, fem reader. Also unbeta read, we die like idiots. Enjoy!

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes (add yourself to my taglist)

“Oh, it’s hopeless!” Popeye sighed, his face landing into his hands. It had gone on for too long. At that point, it was sickening to watch Shifty. As much as Popeye loved him, he couldn’t stand to watch him attempt flirting, or whatever he was doing with his crush. Something had to be done, and the infamous playboy Floyd Talbert was the perfect person for the job.

Floyd had a smirk sprawled across his face as he looked behind Popeye, seeing the interaction blossom between Shifty and his crush. Shifty towered over them, shining his pearly whites and saying something inaudible, earning a sweet chuckle. His sun tanned cheeks turned tomato red as he rubbed his nape.

“I love Shifty, but that poor boy doesn’t even know he’s in love with her.” Floyd remarked. Being a serial dater, he knew how to charm people, with his dashing looks and personality. Floyd studied the Virginian, struggling to hide his obvious affections. His bright smiles, rosy cheeks, spotting them within the crowds-the boy was enamored with her.

Not only was Shifty in love, but so was y/n. Shifty and y/n were both quiet, and shy people. They were adored by the company as being the nicest people alive. You were a truck driver assigned to the company in Aldbourne. Being the only girl donned in pants, the men of easy company were both intimidated and intrigued with you. When you weren’t driving trucks, you were either subjected to Floyd’s advances or the mortar trio attempting to flex their muscles. Y/n eventually eased her way into the company, becoming “Easy’s girl”. Even though you felt welcomed, you didn’t really have a friend you could rely on.

That was until you met Shifty Powers. You met him by accidentally running into him with a box full of mountains. He, being the kind soul he was, offered to help you reorder the thousands of bullets. In exchange, you offered him a ride to a location he was running late to. He introduced himself by Darrell, insisting that you called him by his real name with a smile on his face. He was an undeniable gorogues with sun tanned skin, a smile to die for, and chocolate hair that was golden in the sun. Not only was he attractive on the outside, but within. You were convinced that Shifty could do no wrong whatsoever. Heck, you also believed that he was legally not allowed to curse.

Ever since that encounter, you and Shifty had begun to hang out more. The two of you would talk for hours on end, explore the town of Albourne, escape the bars and find a little bookshop or peaceful space to talk. It was soothing to sit next to Shifty and simply hear him breathe, talk, or smile. It always makes your bleak world a tad bit better. But you were convinced that Shifty wasn’t interested in you, he was too innocent. So you decided that the farthest you would be is friends. And yet, it didn’t sit well with you.

Floyd had noticed that y/n was in love herself. Whenever she was around Shifty, she’d become a mess as well, being clumsy and blushing red. She’d twist a strand of hair in her fingers every time Shifty looked at her, batted her long eyelashes, and looked in the distance to find Shifty, intent on his target, letting out a dreamt sigh.

Floyd was in love with y/n. After all, it was rare to find a female in a company full of men. However, Floyd was Shifty’s best friend, and he wanted what was best for both of them. Popeye could see this too and he was sick of seeing two people who didn’t even know what they were in love with each other.

Floyd, Chuck, and Popeye watched Shifty and you say something to each other. It was pouring outside. Attempting to find your rain jacket, it was nowhere in sight. Shifty, seeing your frustration, took off his jacket and gently put it on your shoulders. You turned around and tried taking it off, but Shifty insisted that you stay warm.

“My pa’ always made sure my ma’ would stay warm. It’s the best I can do,” He reassured.

“Oh Shifty, thank you. This is too kind. How can I repay you?” You offered, wrapping the jacket around your body.

He shook his head, smiling, “I don’t need a single thing from you, miss y/n.”

“Boy, the world truly doesn’t deserve someone like you.” You stated, standing on your tippy toes. “Let’s get out of here so I can sneak you a Hershey bar, or two. How does that sound?”

Shifty froze and looked side to side. It felt like the devil was tempting him. But he could never see y/n as a devil. She was a beautiful angel in his eyes.

“Well,” Shifty put a finger to his lips, “That does sound mighty fine, Miss y/n.”

You took his hand and dragged him to the door, your laughter echoing in the door. Shifty held the door open and let you exit first before closing the door, making your way to the supply room to eat chocolate.

Once Shifty was out of sight, Popeye turned back to Floyd. “I’ve tried to ask him, trust me. He won't say a dang word on it.” He explained, “He thinks miss y/n wouldn’t like a fellow like him. But I’m pretty sure she loves him.”

“You kidding?” Chuck added on, “She spoils him with free food, contraband, whatever. Anything he wants, he gets. She doesn’t do that to any of us.”

“Well, miss Y/n did give me hershey bar last week,” Floyd proudly smirked.

Chuck looked unashamed, “Yeah, because you were trying to convince her to go to the amusement park with her this weekend.”

The Boy from Kokomo playfully rolled his eyes, “Shifty’s not her only favorite.” For a second, he froze, a thought finally coming in his mind. “Wait...the amusement park…”

“She already said no to that one, and all the other dates,” Chuck said.

“I know that,” Floyd replied, rubbing his chin, “I got an idea. For Shifty and Miss y/n.”

Chuck and Popeye looked at eachother, and then Floyd. They could already see the idea forming, but it would take a lot of work.

“I’ve known Shifty all my life. He’s too shy to ask a girl out,” Popeye acknowledged, “He’s too scared of being rejected.”

“I know that.” Floyd pointed his finger as he stood up and fixed his belt, “I’ve got a plan.”

“For once?”

“Yes-be quiet,” Floyd teased, “All those two need is a little push.”

-----------

Shifty looked up and down at the brightly colored paper and at y/n, who was loading up the back of a supply truck. His mouth hung open as his eyebrows rose in diseablief.

Floyd, Chuck, and Popeye stood all in front of him, waiting for an answer. Shifty shook his head and shoved the paper back in Floyd’s hands.

“Oh, I can’t do that. No way.” Shifty denied, his cheeks growing red.

Popeye let out a defeated sigh as Floyd clicked his mouth, walking up to Shifty. “Yes way! Have you not seen the way y/n looks at you?”

Shifty looked in the distance and then back at Floyd, “What? No! She looks at me like I look at you-like a friend. Besides, you’ve seen miss y/n,” Shifty’s gaze turned back to you as the butterflies fluttered in his stomach, “She made it clear ‘dat she ‘dun needa’ man, and I wanna respect ‘dat wish. ‘Sides, she wouldn’t be into a guy like me.”

Popeye shook his head, “God darn it Shift! You gotta realize dat your-”

“In love. L-O-V-E.” Floyd teased, budding shoulders with Shifty. “Based on the dames I’ve been with in Kokomo, I know how women work. She looks at you like a lovesick puppy. The two of you are meant for eachother.”

Shifty looked at Floyd, blinking his eyes like a child looking at a math equation. He still wasn’t understanding. “But...oh, leapin’ lizards! Miss y/n would be into a guy like you. You get all ‘da pretty ladies...how do you dewit?”

Upon hearing Shifty’s pleas for help, Floyd let out a chuckle and slapped Shifty’s shoulder, who looked like a lost lovesick puppy.

“Shifty, Shift, my dearest friend,” Floyd reassured, giving him a double pat, “That’s why I’m here. You’re getting the best advice from your best man.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, “Fan-fucking-tastic Shifty, you boosted his ego. This is going to be great.”

Floyd looked at an unassumed Chuck, giving him a pout. “Oh come now, Chuck! Look at him, he’s in love.”

“But you like Miss y/n! I don’t wanna steal her. I mean, I want someone who can treat her right,” Shifty said, resting his hands on his cheeks.

“Shifty, as your friend, I’m pretty sure everybody in easy company wants Miss y/n to accompany them at the bar for a dance or two.” Floyd explained, trying to encourage Shifty. “I know how much you love her, and I think it’s fair to give you a shot. The only way you’ll get what you want is by working for it.”

He saw Joe Toye walk by you. And even Joe Toye, one of the scariest people in the company, gave miss y/n a subtle nod. She smiled back and gave him a wave, a bandanna in your hair and dirt smudged on your cheek.

Just your mere presence made Shifty melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. No matter what you were in, your uniform or covered in pig guts, you always found a way to be absolutely gorgeous. When Shifty had first bumped into you, he was convinced you were a fallen angel. You were too beautiful and bright in the rainy, gloomy Albourne. Yet there you were, always by his side with a smile on your face and story to tell.

Shifty let out a dreamy smile, a crooked smile on his face. “I wanna say I love her…” Shifty added on.``...without sayin’ I love her.”

The boy from Kokomo cracked his knuckles, “Well, don’t I just got the plan for you too. How does nice and slow sound?”

----------

“What are you doin? Stop pushin’ me! I can’t dewit!” Shifty whispered in a hush as Floyd and Popeye pushed him towards the truck where you were loading supplies for easy company.

“Boy, quit being afraid of anything. Take that leap of faith!” Floyd called out before pushing Shifty near the truck before he and Popeye hid for cover.

Shifty turned around to find them before he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Shifty?”

The Virginian sharpshooter turned his shoulder and hid his hands behind his back, smiling with a piece of his golden chestnut hair falling on his forehead. “Miss y/n! Pleasure to see ‘yah. I hope I wasn’t interruptin’ anythin’ too important.”

“Shifty, you’re too sweet. I was just finishing the last load of K-bars…” You explained, lifting a large box and shoving it into the back of her full truck, unable to see. Finally, done after a long day. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you walked towards Shifty only to be greeted by a variety of poppies.

“ ‘ere, got ‘em for you. You said you like the color red…” Shifty blushed, looking to the side. Floyd and Popeye hid behind the side of the truck, giving him a thumbs up.

You took the flowers and examined them, a smile growing on your face. “Oh, these are so sweet! Thank you..” You put the flowers in the pocket of your overalls to retrieve a few hershey bars from the back of the truck, “I’ll getcha’ somethin-”

“Wait, miss y/n!” Shifty announced, following after you as he grabbed your soft hand, pulling you back. You tripped on your own feet, almost falling to the ground before Shifty catched you, his hand on the small of your back. The two of you stared at each other, cheeks both burning with desire.

Shifty coughed and lifted you up, neating your ruffled shirt and cap with your hair messily tucked into. “S-sorry, I…would like to ask you somethin’. Not chocolate, ma’am.”

You raised your eyebrows, insisting that he go forward with his response, his hand still in yours. He didn’t even notice, but you did. You could recognize his soft, tan skin from anywhere.

“Would you go to the amusement park with me? As my date?” Shifty blurted out like word vomit, “I mean, only if you want. If you don’t wanna go with somebody like me, then I understand.”

“Yes, of course I would!” You also blurted out, your face red like a tomato. You took your cap off and hid your face, embarrassed by yourself. Inhaling, you let out an exhale before pulling yourself together. “Shifty, I would love to go with you. I wasn’t even planning on going at all until you asked me.”

Shifty’s eyes sprinkled with happiness, like a child on Christmas morning. “Really? You wanna?” He squeezed your hand, realizing that he was still holding it.

You looked up at him with a warm smile, placing your dirty hand on top of his. “Yes, I would love to.”

Shifty looked speechless. The rumors were true; his smile was infectious. Perfect and bright like the sun of a warm summer day.

“Sufferin’ succotash!” He cried, “Miss y/n? Can I ask you one last thing?”

“Yes, Shifty?”

“Can I give you a hug?”

It was definitely not what you were expecting. But then again, you weren’t hesitant. Shifty could do no wrong-he simply seemed over the moon about asking you out. You were as well, but seeing Shifty’s excitement made you smile and accept it. He was too cute for his own food.

“Yes, you can.” You opened your arms only to have long hands pull you up and spin you around. It was a quick welcome as you spun around, heartfelt laughter escaping from you and Shifty. Shifty could do no wrong, whether that be at shooting or giving the best bear hugs. They were bear-like, but affectionate and protective. He trapped his arms around your waist as you held the back of his necks, your fingers tangled in his soft hair which shined in the sun. Shifty looked amazing no matter what, always glowing.

Babe threw the clown nose off of his face along with the roses Guarnere had picked out for him. Eugene was walking by, mortified to see Babe dressed (apparently) as a clown and a disappointed Guarnere. Not an unusual sight.

“Heffron,” Eugene walked towards a sad Babe, scanning his figure. “What are you doing…”

“I’m heartbroken! Look at them!” Babe mourned, pointing at you and Shifty in an embrace, happily giggling. “I was gonna ask miss y/n out and give her these roses. I dressed up like a clown since I thought we could both be clowns together.”

Eugene simply blinked, perplexed by Babe’s logic. All he could think of was the word Yikes. He would’ve most likely scared away y/n instead of winning her heart over. “Pardon?” He looked at Guarnere for answers, who simply shrugged at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I tried, the kid wouldn’t listen. He’s a lovesick puppy with that damn dame.” Guarnere explained, crossing his arms as he looked at the happy couple.

The Cajun medic, along with Babe the sad clown and Guarnere, observed you and Shifty. A small smile crooked at his lips. He normally wasn’t one for gossip or dating, but he was happy for the two of you. Even someone as quiet as him didn’t deny the obvious chemistry between the two of you. It was like the two you were destined to be together. Humble, adored, and both beautiful in your own, respective rights.

“Yeah…” Eugene slowly bopped his head, “There sure like lovesick puppies…”

-----------

The Carnival brought light into the gloomy Alborunte with it’s bright rides, laughing children, and joyful ambience. Shifty could recall his childhood with Popeye. Every year, they’d have a carnival during the dog days of August. He loved the shooting games, winning thousands of plushies and eating candy with Popeye until he was sick. He was sure his Ma still had the plushies tucked away in the attic.

But instead of feeling overjoyed, he felt like he was walking on eggshells.

He waited at the entrance with Floyd, Popeye, and Chuck. Chuck kept looking down at his watch, keeping lookout for y/n as Floyd gave Shifty a final pep talk. They were all dressed in fresh uniforms with showers and fine cologne. It was a refreshing change, even if it was for one night.

“Remember, play it cool. You’re sweating’ like a damn dog!” Floyd said, fixing a stubborn curl into his cap.

“Oh, I don’t think I can do this. I mean, miss y/n deserves a real man. I mean she’s so…” Shifty rambled on before Popeye swatted him on the shoulder, gardening his attention to y/n in the crowd. You were far away but to Shifty, you were still recognizable. The girls in the crowd wore plain and monotone colored dresses but you wore a beautiful floral button up with sheer sleeves and ruffles, your makeup done. It was the first time Shifty had ever seen you without your flap cap and dirt on your face, and he wanted a better look.

“Beautiful…”

Floyd smirked and patted Shifty’s shoulders, letting out a dreamy sigh, “God damn it Shifty, you’re lucky I’m being nice to you. Hottie on the dot. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Giving him a push on encouragement, Shifty’s friends eventually faded into the crowd. Gulping, he began to walk forward towards y/n, who stood in the crowd, waiting in the exact location Shifty told her to wait in. Catching him the corner of his eye, she smiled with her red lips and walked over.

“Shifty!” Y/n exclaimed with glee, looking at his clean uniform and quivering an eyebrow. “Thank goddess I found you…and you look handsome in your uniform.”

“Says the pretty lady talkin’,'' Shifty commented back as he looked down at your tinier form. Now that you were up close, he could admire every little detail from your rosy cheeks, red lipstick, manicured hands, and glimmer in your eyes from the fairy lights. “I mean, you always look very nice but tonight you look stunning’.”

“Oh quit being’ nice to me, Shifty.” You playfully swatted his shoulder, “Every guy’s in the company’s said that to me. Not half of them even acknowledged me before I got dressed up.”

Shifty, like a confused puppy, tilted his head. How could someone such as y/n, who he considered to be the prettiest lady he had ever seen.

“Whaddya mean? You always have been very pretty, ma’am.” Shifty acknowledged, his hands fiddling behind his back. He could feel his palms sweating, seeing the moon reflect onto your glowing skin. “You always look beautiful. It’s just tonight that you look even more beautiful than you usually do.”

You shook your head as you looked down, fiddling with the sides of your dress. Nobody had said those words to you in years. They were truly heartfelt and not some cheap way of getting into your pants. “I may not see it, but thank you Shifty.”

“Well, my ma’ has always told me that I’m one bad liar. I like to say it how it is,” Shifty insisted with a finger in your face, “and I’m saying that you are one hecka’ ova’ pretty gal.”

You smiled at Shifty, amazed by how cute he was. He didn’t even have to try, it was all natural. “Oh Shifty….” You looked down at your shoes, seeing your feet brush against his boots. Clearing your throat, you looked up to talk. ‘I…”

Before you could say a word, you could see Floyd Talbetr in the back. He noticed you talking to Shifty and upon seeing you, had a devilish smirk sprawn over his handsome face. You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. “Oh goodness, doesn’t he see I’m on a date?”

Shifty turned around and bit his lip. He gently grabbed your hand. It felt natural in the moment too, his larger work in your pretty manicured hand. “That son of a gun! I’m sorry ‘bout him, miss y/n. ‘Ere, let’s go. I’m sure he’ll find another lady, but not as pretty as you. I mean she would be very pretty, but not the miss y/n typa’ pretty.”

The two of you walked side by side, hands together. You looked at Shifty, raising an eyebrow. “Are you gonna keep callin’ me pretty the whole night?’

Shifty nodded his head like an enthusiastic child, “Like I said, if it’s true, is true.”

---------

Once the two of you escaped the infamous playboy, you and Shifty walked around the amusement park. The two of you had eventually let go of your hands since something had caught your eye, causing you to mindlessly wander. Shifty followed you like a puppy dog, whatever you wanted to do he wanted. Besides, anything with you was time well spent. Carnivals were something he always enjoyed with their bright lights and shiny attractions, especially with a pretty girl he was in love with. He forgot he was in a raging war whenever he looked at you; with your soft smile and calming words. Just for one night, Shifty could escape into his fantasy world with you, which to his surprise was the reality he was currently standing in.

You were full of life in the park, dragging Shifty to every ride, whether it be scary or for toddlers. The two of you first stopped at the Haunted House, which Shifty was terrified to go into. You were scared, but it was the rush of adrenaline driving you. Shifty wanted to impress you, so he held your hand hand for “safe precaution” and walked in front of you. It was adorable to see him jump back at the slightest scares and mumble under his breath an alternative curse word, such as “leapin’ lizards” or “great scott!”

As the two of you exited the haunted house, lost in conversation, the two of you had been jumpscared. Shifty jumped and grabbed your waist, pulling you in for protection. You felt his stomach on your back and his firm grasp on your waist. You looked up and Shifty, who immediately realized what he was doing. The two of you broke into laughter, a few snorts in the middle. Shifty slowly let go of your waist, wanting to hold on longer.

“Sorry miss y/n.” He apologized, bowing his head. “Jus’ got a lil’ scared in the moment. I don’t mean to be a coward.”

“A coward? Nonsense,” You smiled in reassurance and grabbed his hand, “Your no coward to me. Now come on! There’s more rides to go!”

Shifty was distracted by your beauty as you dragged him along. Once again, the two of you trekked around the park. He was lost in your gaze. How did a guy like him end up with a lady such as yourself? It was hard to deny the butterflies in his stomach. He had never dated in the past. Yes, he had crushes, but they never acknowledged his feelings. He’d do anything for his crushes whether to be holding their books, walking them back home, anything for them, yet he never had his feelings returned. He always felt like he was the second choice. But with you, it was different. You were truly his best friend, and he wanted you to know it, but he still had no idea how to say it.

The two of you decided to take a break and ordered a sugary milkshake to boost your energy for another hour of rides. The two of you sat at a small table in the back, watching the happy couples and children in the distance. The waiter had brought over a milkshake, interrupting your peaceful little silence. Shifty wasn’t even looking at the crowds, he was simply staring at you. His long legs brushed against yours until they finessed each other, making his cheeks go red.

He looked down and saw one milkshake with two heart shaped straws. You raised an eyebrow and fiddled with the straw.

“Odd,” You remarked, examining the milkshake, “ I thought we ordered two…”

Shifty raised his head to see Floyd Talbert in the back, a smirk as he winked, two girls leaning on his shoulders giggling. Was he following them this whole time? Wasn’t he too busy with those girls on his shoulders?”

Shifty tilted his head back down and muttered a curse under his breath, “That son ova’ mother trucker…”

“Shift?” You questioned. He looked up at you, to see that you were already taking a drink. “You okay?”

Shifty rubbed the back of his nape, “Yes ma’am. Ma’ apologies.” He looked at the milkshake and your manicured hands holding the cup down. “Hey! Leave a lil’ for both of us.”

You cutelty giggled, “I haven’t had one of these in a while! I can’t help it. After all,”

“Strawberry, it’s the best flavor,” Shifty had said, and you had followed along in his words. The two of your eyes met, both leaned in close to the milkshake. To cut out the awkarenedess, both of you let out chuckles. A small snort emerged from your mouth, in which you soon covered in.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, hand over your mouth. Your chuckles became faint, another snort escaping your mouth, “It’s not very ladylike.”

Shifty looked puzzled, “Whatcha’ mean? What’s not ladylike?”

“My laugh,” You answered, “I always snort. It’s horrible. Whenever I’d laugh, these girls in my school would make fun of it. I can’t really control it, sorry.”

“Why would they laugh at you?” Shifty looked saddened at your insecurity. You were perfect in his eyes. You truly couldn't do anything wrong. “I think your laugh is very pretty, miss y/n.”

“As sweet as you are, you don’t have to lie.”

Shifty scooted up towards you, his hand sliding onto yours. He had a small smile in his face, his thumb caressing the inner part of your hand. “Well, I am bein’ honest. I ain’t a good liar, you know ‘dat. I’m sure ‘dose girls were jealous of you. ‘sides…” Shifty looked down and back at you with his hazel orbs, “I like your laugh a lot, miss y/n. ‘S pretty, ‘jus like you.”

Oh god, It was happening. Whether it was his cuteness, his Virgianian accent, he was luring you in. You looked up at him as your cheeks grew rosy. The two of you sat there, hand on hand, sipping on a milkshake with the lights glowing in the back. You always had the tiniest crush on Shifty, but it had finally hit you like a bus that it wasn’t some tiny schoolgirl crush-but it was truly love.

You had told yourself over and over that the only reason he liked you was because he was nice to you. You were a cheery person, but deep inside, you had been hurt in the past. Always feeling you were the second choice, you shut yourself out from love. Especially in war. Sure, you were friendly towards the men, but you told yourself you wouldn’t grow close to them. If they died, it would be better. As cruel as it sounded, it was kinder to them are you. It was for the better, right?

That fateful day you bumped into Shifty Powers changed your aspect. You were officially stupid with love, sitting there at a bright carnival, hand in hand as you sipped on a milkshake. He was too kind for you and the world you lived in.

“You’re not gonna stop being nice to me, are you?”

“No ma’am.”

----------

After the milkshake incident, you had noticed you clung onto Shifty more. You were a little taken aback when he asked to hug you. Not that you didn’t enjoy it, you truly did, and it was something that infected your thoughts. Your cheeks would go red and you’d cover the lower part of your mouth. Whenever Shifty walked into the room, it felt like the sun was shining in the dreary Albourne. Just looking at him made your IQ drop to single digits.

And Floyd had caught onto it before you had even noticed.

Instead of holding Shifty’s hand, the two of you walked arm and arm, chatting the night away. The two of you exchanged stories of your childhood, home, and how you ended up where you were. He truly was an angel with a bright smile. He wasn’t like other guys you had met who bragged about themselves. Whenever you would compliment him, he’d deny it with his cheeks all red from embarrassment.

“You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen!” You announced, in disbelief. You had seen him practice a few times, and he would hit every target with grace. “You make it look easy.”

“I’m not a good shot,” Shifty doubted, “But Pa was a good shot. The best shot I’ve ever seen. I think you’d like Pa a lot.”

As the two of you walked in the crowd, you noticed a shooting booth in the corner of your eye. It was a classic paladone duck shooting game. You smirked and pulled his arm to the side, “Well, prove it then.”

Shifty let out a sigh and stood straight, saluting like you like you were Sobel, but much less intimidating. “Yes ma’am.”

You saw him stand there, his fingers curled around the trigger and the butt resting against his shoulder. He took a breath and exhaled, and let the bullets blue. Every duck fell to the ground within a matter of seconds. A minute later, Shifty returned with a large stuffed animal and a smile on his face. He handed it to you. It was a tiny, stuffed bear with button airs.

“For you.” He commented, “I wish they had bigger ones. But I can get you more, if you want.”

You looked at the plusive. You felt juvenile, but it was Shifty. Besides, the two of you weren’t in the army in the moment; you were two lovesick puppies, running around a carnival without a care in the world.

“No, this is...perfect.” You held it close to your chest, “I’ll name him Popeye, a good luck charm.”

Shifty had taken you to every booth he could find, effortlessly shot the gates, and won you more stuffed animals. Whenever he’d give you one, you’d smile like a child on christmas. He loved to see you happy, so he kept doing it more and more. In his mind, it repeated like a broken record, “for y/n”. Wherever you went, Shifty went. Whatever you wanted, Shifty wanted. He was truly a lovesick puppy.

After Shifty’s a thousandth win, both of you walked side by side, arms full of plushies. Each of them were named after members of your company. A racoon named Luz, a black cat named Roe, a cub bear named Liebgott, a fox named Babe, a rabbit named Dick, and so many more. You held up a medium sized shark and nudged Shifty’s shoulder.

“Alright, this one?”

Shifty put some thought into it, “Webster. Doesn’t he like sharks?”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah, he won’t shut up about it.”

The two of you giggled until hitting the next booth and running into a familiar playboy and his newest addition bound to be one night stands. Floyd noticed you and Shifty arrived. He crossed his arms and walked over, faking a cough.

“Look at what we have here,” Floyd scanned you and Shifty, the both of you with wide eyes and stuffed animals overflowing in your hands, “Y’know Shift, I’m proud of you. The whole company hates you for it, you lucky son of a gun.”

Shifty softened his eyebrows, “Wait, they hate me? What did I do wrong?”

Seeing Floyd’s cruel teasing, you interrupted the two. “Floyd, don’t be so cruel,” You put a reassuring hand on Shifty’s shoulder, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being himself.”

Floyd did a fake pout, “Oh, come on hon. All due respects, but Shifty hit the jackpot before me. After all, he doesn’t miss.”

Shifty and you both went as red as tomatoes, looking sideways. Floyd’s armcandy giggled at his comment and playfully slapped him in the chest. He reassured his sweetheart and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away.

After Floyd had disappeared to do god knows what, Shifty still looked perplexed and concerned. His thoughts were once again racing. Not about the company disliking him, but Floyd’s comment. Even though he and Floyd were best friends, the two of them were different. He was a playboy in the spotlight, and Shifty was in the back, always tagging along. Growing up, Shifty considered himself to have a loving family. He saw the way his pa treated his ma; giving her his coat, bringing her presents, and treating her like she was a queen. Shifty had never been with a lady before, and he considered you his first real one. Twenty years of age and this was his first rendezvous with a girl, he couldn’t believe it. And he wanted to make sure you were loved and not some jackpot, trying to be won like a competition.

“Miss y/n?” Shifty asked, gaining your attention. He cleared this throat, “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think of you in ‘dat way.”

“In the Floyd way? That’s alotta’ guys, Shifty.”

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m doin’ this because of him. Since you’re a very pretty lady, a lot of guys wanted to ask you, and be there arm candy. I just wanted to letcha know now that you're not some kinda prize to be won. I hope to god I ain’t makin’ you feel ‘that way.” Shifty exhaled, letting all his words come out like word vomit. They came out so quickie that he didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Shifty, I know you. You’re a sweetheart,” You kindly affirmed, “Any dame would be lucky to get a guy like you. This has been such a wonderful night, so thank you for that.” The two of you were close to each other, your hands hovering against his chest. His uniform looked perfect on him, you didn’t want to mess it up. Your fingers sucked in as they laid at your side, resisting the temptations that were filling your mind. “But, I do have one request.”

“Anything for you, ma’am.” He vowed, letting you take the floor.

“Teach me how to shoot.”

Shifty look behind you at the booth, a shooting gallery, and then back at you. It was an odd request for sure, especially considering the tender moment the two of you shared. “Like here, right now?” He coaxed. Out of the people, him? He was flattered. No lady had ever asked him something such as that.

You nodded, shrugging your shoulders, insisting, “You are the best shot in the world, after all.”

“Alrighty, if you insist.” Shifty grabbed the small of your back as the two of you walked to the booth. Once you were given the prop gun, you placed the butt on your shoulder and closed an eye, the other looking out of the iron sight. Shifty got right behind you, his chest against your back. He leaned on your shoulder and moved your hand to the trigger and bottom while getting a sniff of your perfume. He never missed, but being around you was definitely a distraction.

“Don’t aim for what you're shooting’, aim’ for where you shootin’,” He instructed, your eyes focused on the moving targets. Shifty hadn’t realized he had put a hand on your waits to turn you over slightly. It wasn’t like you minded his gentle touch.

The moving target came up, and with Shifty’s hand upon yours, you pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the middle of the target, slamming to the ground. However, the two of you didn’t stop. Every target that came, you shot and didn’t miss once. While you were focused on the red targets falling to the ground, you could also feel Shifty’s breath on you and his firm grasp on your hips. His fingers were on top of yours and the trigger. Whenever you were to get a target, he’d mutter “ ‘atta girl…” or “aim a lil’ higher, darlin’.” It made you lose focus, making you thankful that Shifty was right by your side. You lowered the gun, his hands still resting on your hips. When the clerk had announced you had won, you shook it off and walked over to claim your one hundredth stuffed animal. Shifty had a pout as you walked away. He truly enjoyed being close to you.

“Hey,” You called, a smile on your face, “Thank you. I’d like to do that again.”

“Shooting’ again?”

“Of course. I’d like to learn how to do it.”

“Oh miss y/n, I’d love to help, but I ain’t a good shot.”

“Stop denying it,” You affirmed, holding his hands in yours, bringing them to your chest. You looked up at him, the fairy lights glimmering in your eyes, “That you’re a bad shot and not a gentleman and that I deserve to be with someone who can treat me right. You are an amazing shot. This night has been amazing. You are someone who can treat me right. I…” Freezing on your words, the butterflies in your stomach crippled you. You knew what you wanted to say, but how could you word it into a coherent sentence. His hands scrunched in your chest as you still held them close, like a child with a stuffed animal.

“Well, stop denying’ you're not pretty'. Because I think you're the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Shifty confessed as he moved closer to your tinier form, “Not only on the outside, but inside. You're kind, always putting others before yourself. You also sneak the company Hershey bars, even though they don’t need them. You're so interesting to talk to, you can just...light up a whole room when you walk inside of it,” Shifty’s cheeks were burning like a fire as he pulled you close to his body, both of your breaths heavy. “I...oh gosh darn it…”

You looked over to the side and turned back to Shifty, “Ferries Wheel.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s go. It’s the last ride of the night before they shut the park.” You exclaimed. Maybe the two of you needed a private place to talk. I love you, it was three simple words. You couldn’t say it and he couldn’t say it. Maybe it would work, maybe it would be a disaster. You had nothing to lose at

this point.

Shifty and you both walked over, seeing that there was no line for the ride. It was late at night. You only had an hour left on your night pass, and you wanted to make sure you used the most of it. What if always lingered in your mind. You knew not to get close to the men in the company, it was for the better. But now, with Shifty holding your hand, it was undeniable.

The two of you boarded onto the small cart, still hand in hand. No words were spoken between you two. You looked at the bright lights, which were getting smaller as you moved upwards. You could feel Shifty’s gaze burn into you. Although the two of you

“Miss y/n?” He broke the silence.

“Yes, Shifty?” You said, turning to look into his Hazel eyes. He smiled and shook his head, using one of his hands to cup the hand he was holding.

“I don’t know how to say this but, I want to be honest with you since we only got a little bit of time to do so. I remember when I first met you and I was speechless, and I still am. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time now but tonight...made me realize them more. It made me realize what a foot I am for not knowing’ sooner. But now, I know. I gotta say it. Miss Y/n, I love you.” Shifty declared, “more than anything in the world. If you don’t like me, ‘dat’s okay. But I can’t hide it anymore. I wanna help you learn how to shoot, I wanna go on more dates with you, I wanna be around you every single day.”

It had finally hit you. You looked at Shifty and chuckled, “You said it. I love you too. I couldn’t find the words for it...but now, I have. I love you, Darrell. ”

You moved to Shifty’s side of the cart and leaned on his shoulder, nuzzling into it as Shifty wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to his body.

“Have you always loved me?” Shifty questioned, his fingers trailing against your bare arms.

You nodded your head, playing with his fingers. “Since day one. You?”

“Since I first looked at you,” Shifty confessed, “Floyd and Popeye always teased me ‘bout it. I didn’t have the courage to say it before, but they…”

“Helped you. I guess you're not the only one here,” You sighed, just knowing that Floyd had something to do with this. Of course, it made sense for the playboy to make a matchmaker. “I told Luz by accident and you know Luz. Floyd had overheard our conversation and had to include himself. He helped me get a dress and prepare for this all. So yeah, I guess we both liked each other...but we didn’t know it.”

“Well, know we do it. We both love each other,” Shifty said into your hair.

“Yeah…” You looked at the night sky, the stars and moon sparkling. “I like that a lot.”

The cart had stopped on top of the ride. In that moment, you felt on top of the world. Shifty had you in his arms, the temperature wa sprague, the sky was beautiful. It was all coming together now-but there was one missing detail.

Shifty’s arm pulled you in closer before he asked gently, “May I kiss you, miss y/n?”

That was it, the one missing detail. A kiss to wrap up the perfect moment. You turned your body towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Yes, you can Shifty. You can do it as many times as you like.”

“Yes Ma’am,” He chuckled like a child. Wrapping his arms on your waist, your lips collided with each other. Your heart began to pound as you felt a desire run from your heart, to my chest, and down toward my inner thighs.

Shifty touched your neck, and the hair as it was moved away nearly gave me the chills. His hands went from the sides of your head and down to your neck, out to your shoulders and down to your hands. He grabbed your hands gently yet firm. You felt safe, he spoke no words. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you shut your eyes and took a deep breath out.

Shift kissed my shoulder, and ran his lips on my skin towards my ear, but didn't quite make it that far. It doesn't hurt, it only makes me want more.

Shifty turns you around, and we are facing each other. He stares into my eyes and smiles. Shifty’s two hands grab your left hand as he places your open palm on his heart, and he holds it there. His eyes exude love, protection, security, safety, patience, and respect. You smile and he lets go of your hands, with one hand he runs his fingers through your hair and gently guides your face closer to his, eventually leaning me in to rest my head on his chest.

His other arm wraps around me, and you hope he never lets go.

And in that moment, the world was still. It was you and Shifty, on top of the world.

[ouyangzizhensdad]

i've debated with myself so much about madam yu and saw you rt that post defending her and i read it but it still didn't sit right with me, i'm not chinese but i am from one of those taugh love mom cultures and still find her extra bad, i asked a few chinese people who don't stan the book and they were horrified at the defense and said that it was not normal, sure she shows regular ch mom characteristics but she's like the hyperbole of a ch mom so does anyone own the monopoly of wha's normal?

Hi there anon, 

This is only my pov and I cannot speak from the perspectives of Chinese and Chinese diasporic people, nor for the people who wrote on the topic of Yu-furen (I can only speak of how I interpreted the posts I came across).

My understanding of the situation, however, is that they are not attempting to do with these posts what you are suggesting. You ask “does anyone own the monopoly of what’s normal”, which suggests you believe the posts meant to give a definitive answer on what is ‘normal’ behaviour, when in reality the posts seem to have been made with the opposite aim in mind: to remind people who do not share the cultural background of the intended audience of MDZS that there does not exist a single definition of what constitute “normal” behaviour and that fandom discussions dissecting every single action or word of Yu-furen’s toward any character to portray them as “clear signs of abuse” has been difficult to stomach and might even feel imperialistic for people who have been raised by parents who came from a cultural background where some of these very behaviours are not regarded as abusive.  

These posts, in general, have also seemed to attempt first to explain the nuances of Yu-furen’s relationship to WWX, which often gets wrongfully portrayed as her unequivocally being his adoptive mother or a legal guardian. She is not a mother figure to him and does not act toward him from that position. These have also aimed to remind people that the behaviours and care we feel are “owed” to “children” as a group are spatiotemporally specific, and influenced by a variety of factors--in this case, WWX being the child of a servant and a disciple of the sect. By reminding people that, in her position, in that specific spatiotemporal moment, Yu-furen would have been allowed to be much more extreme in her disciplining or could have simply refused to let WWX stay in Lotus Pier, what I feel these posters are doing is not telling Westerners that they personally think it would be appropriate behaviour towards a child, but rather highlighting that this means something wrt how Yu-furen is characterised in the context of the novel considering that the intended audience of the novel would be aware of that reality. Differently put, that it suggests a framing of Yu-furen as someone that does bark more than she bites even if she does bite. And aside from the irrelevant surface-level readings of Yu-furen as a sort of “girlboss” that seem to originate mostly from the CQL-verse in any case, I’ve never seen anyone suggest that she is irreproachable. All the serious analyses I’ve seen acknowledge that Yu-furen is meant to be a complicated figure or acknowledge that she abuses her authority in the sect by giving WWX punishments she does not bestow on other disciples. What they seem to disagree with is the ways western fans make sweeping generalisations and accusations without the relevant context, which comes off to them as insensitive and coming from a place of cultural ignorance.

Maybe it is time for a discussion that humanist thought, that which underlines so much of our modern understanding of rights and social progress, flattens spatiotemporal differences (or, as they often talked about, cultural differences), staying deeply rooted in Western supremacy when it aims to provide a single answer to what is right and what is a right. It can verge very easily into the evangelical and the imperialistic: we have only to look at the influence of the “global” LGBT movement has had on erasing  localised social organisations and identity markers by superposing themselves unto them as more intelligible ideas through which to barter for rights with the political class. Or worst, by having the “global” LGBT movement frame localised expressions of queerness as not progressive enough or harmful (sometimes I think back at Gaudio’s ethnography of queer men in the Hausa-speaking region of northern Nigeria, and how the men who took on the penetrative role in sex  generally switch to self-reference and being referenced in a feminine way and using “women’s talk”, and thinking “wow, they would be so cancelled or condescended to by tumblr kids 😬”). 

The point of this tangent is not to underline that everything about humanism or its influences on modern life are bad, but that it is an intellectual “tool” that can be do harm and be imperialistic and racist (since it is generally the White, Christian-adjacent, Western standards that are posited as the moral truth that defies differences in cultures and material contexts). And most of the discussions of what “adults” owe to “children” (ideas that are generally treated as homogeneous and clear-cut across time and space, as apriori categories), of what rights are owed to children, exist within these frameworks. Or, they might exist within the framework of “science,” as if science itself cannot be influenced by Western imperialism and researchers’ biases. Reading western language acquisition research and comparing it with cross-cultural ethnographic sociolinguistic research on language acquisition really highlights how some of the science that informs “good parenting” in the West is incapable of realising how much the material and cultural context of the West influences the results that are supposedly controlled. 

Or, again, the idea that science can help us define clearly and once and for all where the line between shitty actions and abuse, or discipline and abuse, should be drawn, is to me one that cannot be dissociated from a belief that science can provide us with definite truths about our existence as social animals as if these sort of truths were not inherently positioned and negotiated. It is an uncomfortable idea, isn’t it, to realise that two people can be against abuse but at the same time not draw the line at the same place? How do we best grapple with the discovery that “abuse” is not an apriori category but rather one that is constructed according to varying forms of positioned and shifting knowledge and experience? I do not have an answer, but I certainly think that fandom arguments will probably not be the best place for that level of philosophical discussions. 

To conclude, anon, I do want to acknowledge that your ask seems to come from a place of concern and perhaps even hurt. And that is perhaps why the posts from Chinese diasporic people in the fandom might appear to you as dismissive or flippant towards the interpretations of other fans of the novel. But perhaps without this prism of concern and/or hurt through which your perception of these analyses are filtered, you might have been able to notice a lot more nuance to their points than what your ask suggests. And that is not a criticism per se, but simply a reminder that, sometimes, some topics are difficult for us to approach clear-headed and to receive differing perspectives in good faith. In any case, I am certainly not the arbiter whose opinion on the topic will finally settle these debates, as such you might want in the future prefer to direct your questions (politely of course) to people who penned such analyses or who can speak from the relevant cultural perspective. If your aim in sending me this ask (because I reblogged a post you disagreed with) was to judge whether I passed your litmus test for being “morally just” to decide whether anything I have to say on any other topic is still worth paying attention to, well I suppose you now have your answer.