#it's possible... to fuck it up ayy

[yther]

Sun.May.18/25

(still)

this poem is a passing

of

preponderance

evoking

understanding

time

..Ͽ

[tywrites]

secrets that you keep (talking in your sleep) pt 2 | mateo manta

requests: “hello . please consider and part two to your Mateo fic . thank you very Much ❤️ . Idont know if i should format this as a request or suggestion— but if you take it the first way then Mateo submissive top maybe… Or just Very whiny and the Like.” + “Steamy make out sesh with Mateo PLEASE(maybe more if ur up to it🤭)"

word count: 2.1k

warnings: minors dni!! smut, riding, creampie

a/n: i had so many mateo reqs in my inbox after the last fic hehe, not complaining at all. hope you guys enjoy this filth <33 i also don't speak spanish so apologies if it's used entirely wrong ;-;

part 1

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?”

Mateo’s head was spinning and he had no idea where to put his hands. I mean, what exactly are you supposed to do when there’s a gorgeous human on top of you, looking like they’re ready to eat you for dinner?

After his teasing question, you’d wasted no time in straddling the man, seemingly determined to make him pay for the embarrassment you were feeling. With a leg either side of his lap, you locked your lips with his, kissing him like your life depended on it. Your hands found his, moving them up so they laid on your waist.

God, his lips were so soft – makes sense for a blanket, you thought.

Your hands soon found their way to his hair, tangling into the locks and pulling him even closer to you. You couldn’t help but notice the most adorable breathy sounds coming from Mateo with every tug of his hair, every movement of your tongue. You wanted to drown in him.

“Ay dios mío, corazón… ah, you’re perfect,” he panted out, a dark red coating his cheeks. You took this moment to catch your breath before attaching your lips to his neck, focusing on the sensitive spot right under his ear. He made the most delicious noises.

“Ayy… mmh, mi amor please- ah!” He let out a loud moan when his hips bucked up into your own, the hardness evident in his sweatpants.

Your hands were all over him, taking in every inch of his soft skin. You were ecstatic to finally be able to leave your mark on him, taking this time to make sure the others knew exactly who Mateo belonged to. Your lips trailed over his neck and chest, nipping and sucking at the skin to leave crimson marks behind. It was clear that Mateo was getting impatient – you could feel his hips desperately humping into your own, an almost humiliated expression on his face.

“Aw, my love… Are you that desperate for me?” you whispered sweetly into his ear, your hand trailing down to lay over his bulge teasingly. He whined, bucking up into your hand, attempting to get any kind of friction possible.

“Sí, sí… please don’t tease,”

You smirked. “Hmm? But I thought you wanted to know what my dream was about? You do wanna know… right?”

His mouth dropped agape slightly, his mind barely able to process your words. Fuck, he really did want to know. He needed to know what made you make those noises, why you were pleading his name so insistently… what he was doing to make you moan so sweetly.

“T-tell me,” he said quietly, sweaty strands of his hair falling into his eyes as he gazed at you.

“Say please,”

He groaned, his cock bouncing at your words. He never knew he’d be into this kind of thing. You on top of him, taking full control of the situation – entirely different than it had been just half an hour ago. The picture of you leaning over him, desire in your eyes�� He would give you anything you asked of him.

“Please, amor… please tell me,”

You reached out to cup his cheek as you leaned into him, stopping inches away from his face. You looked directly in his eyes as you told him exactly what had made you so hot.

“It’s funny… we were actually in opposite positions to now,” you began, glancing down at your bodies on the sofa, your legs straddling his. “You were on top of me, saying the dirtiest things I could think of. I couldn’t move – not with my hands tied so tightly with your blanket. And god, you were being such a tease…”

He bit his lip, trying in vain to hold back a moan.

“You were telling me all of the things you wanted to do to me. I was begging for it so hard, so desperately, and you were being so mean,” you pouted, your hands moving to your shirt as you began to unbutton it. Slowly.

Mateo’s eyes locked onto your movements, unable to tear his vision away as inch by anticipated inch of your soft skin was revealed to him. He gulped down a mouthful of saliva, thanking the universe that he wasn’t literally drooling right now. The same couldn’t be said for his poor, neglected cock; a small stain now soaked through the front of his sweatpants.

“Mi vida, please…”

“Uh uh, I’m not finished yet,” you say, grinning devilishly. You only received a broken whine in response.

“When you finally touched me… God, I could have finished right there and then. You were amazing, ‘Teo. Made me feel so fucking good, so sexy-”

“You are,”

Your face flushed. You were finally on the last button. As you undid it, you looked Mateo in the eyes. You’d never seen his big brown eyes look so… needy. You finally pushed your shirt off, revealing your body to your boyfriend for the very first time. There’s a thought in the back of your head, a vague one – if it had been anyone but Mateo seeing you right now, you wouldn’t be feeling half as comfortable and safe.

But trusting Mateo came so easily to you.

“Fuck, corazón… such a beauty. How did I get so lucky?” His voice and face were so sincere, looking at you with genuine amazement in his eyes. His hands twitched, desperate to reach out and touch you. You finally decided to be nice, mostly due to how eager you were becoming yourself.

“Mateo?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Please touch me,”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands were on you in a second, roaming over your top half as he kissed you deeply. He was definitely becoming more confident now that he had an obvious place to put his hands. They slid smoothly over the expanse of your back, up to your hair as he pulled you against him, moaning needily into the kiss. You pushed down onto his lap, earning you a wrecked whine from Mateo.

You started to claw at his clothing, needing him to be wearing decidedly less right about now. He shrugged off his puffy duvet jacket, his lips still locked with your own the entire time. You were forced to part, however, for him to rip off his vest. His soft stomach was revealed to you, along with a visible path of white hairs leading down to the main event.

You were going to wreck this man.

Blanket.

You wasted no time in peeling off your bottoms, your hole aching for something, anything to fill it up. Mateo was fixated on your naked form, his eyes glazing over with desire.

“You’re still wearing far too many clothes…”

He chuckled at your eagerness, reaching down to untie the blanket around his waist. When he was finally able to liberate himself from his sweatpants, he let out a quiet groan of relief. His cock was throbbing and everything you were hoping for. Mateo was definitely thicker than he was long, but still a pretty sizeable length. He wrapped a hand around the base, giving it a few quick strokes, his face almost looking as flushed as the tip.

“I… I need you, mi vida…” he said softly, looking at you with sweet, hopeful eyes.

Fuck.

You crawled over to him, laying a hand on his chest and pushing him back to lay against the arm of the couch. “Don’t worry, my love,” you said, giving him a chaste kiss before taking a hold of his aching cock. “I’ll take care of you,”

He whined as you slowly stroked his length, paying special attention to the very tip, your thumb teasingly spreading the pre-cum over the head. His eyes closed, his mouth left agape as you continued your ministrations. He was gorgeous, some of his white locks stuck to his forehead from the heat of the situation, a rosy hue to his skin as he tried to hold back the sweet noises he was making.

You needed him inside you. Now.

You lifted your left hand to his mouth (your right still continuing to bring him the pleasure he so needed), presenting him with three fingers. He looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Open your mouth, love,”

His eyes widened when he realised what you meant. He obeyed quickly, his mouth falling open for you as you pressed your fingers inside. His tongue worked itself around them, getting them nice and wet for you. He was nothing if not thorough. What you didn’t expect, was the satisfied whine that left him as he sucked on your fingers.

Holy shit. It went straight to your head, your mind getting fuzzy as you watched him be so eager to listen, so eager to please. Once your fingers were suitably wet, you pulled them out of his mouth – Mateo seeming almost disappointed at the absence.

You moved your hand down to your hole, starting with one digit as you slowly began to prep yourself. As eager as you were, one look at Mateo’s thick cock told you that you needed to be stretched out before taking it.

“Ayy… fuck mi amor, are you touching yourself?”

You blushed, adding a second finger. “Need to… open myself up for you,”

He groaned, his head falling forward onto your shoulder as you continued to stroke his cock and touch your own hole. You added a third finger, spreading them wide as you fucked yourself, stretching yourself as best you could in this position. At a certain point you stopped. This would do.

You lifted yourself up so you were up on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders as you hovered over his cock. Mateo’s hands quickly found your waist and he looked up at you like you’d hung the very stars in the sky. As you slowly lowered yourself down onto his length and felt that initial stretch, you couldn’t hold back the sharp inhale you took. Fuck, he was big.

“Ohh… you feel amazing. Fuckkkk, taking me so well,” he whined, his head falling back onto the sofa as you sank down onto him. “Perfect, so perfect, baby…”

You ignored the slight pain at the stretch, focusing on his sweet words whispered into your ear. Soon, he was completely bottomed out inside you, your thighs shaking from exertion. You couldn’t help but collapse against his chest for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as you tried to get used to the feeling of him inside you.

“Shh, I’ve got you amor… So sweet for me, always taking such good care of me,” he breathed out, placing soft kisses all over your face and neck. “Take your time,”

Once the dull ache had faded away, you braced your hands against his shoulders, looking directly in his eyes as you lifted yourself as far as you could off of his cock. He whined at the loss before letting out a loud groan as you dropped yourself back down onto him. You began to ride him, hard and fast, moaning as he hit that perfect spot inside of you. His hands gripped at your ass, pulling himself deeper into you as you rode him.

“Fuckkk, ‘Teo… Ah!”

“Te amo! Ayyy, mi vida, so good!”

“I love you too, mmh- fuck!”

His hips started to meet yours as he thrusted up, his head falling back and his eyes closing. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, holding on for dear life as he took over, driving into you with as much force as he could muster.

“I- I’m close…” you whimpered, clinging to him as you felt the knot in your stomach forming with each hard thrust.

“Me too, corazón. Fuck, where can I…” he trailed off, a desperate look on his face as his thrusts became sloppy.

“Inside, ‘Teo… please come inside me,”

He groaned at your words. You really were gonna be the death of him. He drove into you, determined to get you there first – he had always been a giver. It didn’t take long for you to come undone on his cock, your body convulsing as you let out a loud mewl, your eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

He thrusted once, twice, three times more before finally pulling your hips firmly down onto his own. He released inside you, his hot, thick come flooding your hole. He kept you there as he fully emptied himself inside, his head flopped forward into the crook of your neck. You held him, stroking your hand through his sweaty mop of hair.

There was a comfortable silence as you both came back to reality, the scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Mateo’s hands stroked over your back soothingly, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“So…

“So?”

He smiled teasingly at you. “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

You gave his shoulder a gentle slap as you both devolved into giggles, wrapped around each other comfortably in the living room. You could only hope and pray that the others had… vacated the room much earlier.

[spiritedstars]

SJM Live Event 9.26.2023

This was so fun! I loved the questions and rapport between Christian Lauren and Sarah. Below is a recap of what was discussed :)

She looks great!

They met years ago when SJM was still writing TOG (on book two)

COURTOFMASS helped narrow down the questions so AYY fandom

CL likes to see when people try to summarize the SJM’s books so they asked SJM to summarize CC

SJM’s palms were sweating (LOL) and she summarized it as “a mix of urban fantasy, fantasy, fantasy but modern world - kick ass snarky heroine who goes on a journey of self-discovery and healing with hot ass dudes and hot sex”

“Doesn’t look any family members in the eye” because of her smut (lol)

SJM doesn’t look at any theories. “I say no in the most loving way”

She doesn’t have social media on her phone so she’s not lurking around on the internet. She just wants to stay in her creative bubble. Every now and then a friend will send her something “lol look at this crazy theory” 

Creating CC / what was that like? 

It was a year-long process and ongoing as she was writing it. She’s back living in NYC and growing up in the city inspired a lot of this book. The idea came to her on a plane while on tour (possibly HOF) and she heard a piece of music, and saw Danika’s voice reaching out to Bryce. It’s when she burst into tears and Bryce came to life (she’s told us this before). She kind of worked in reverse as it unraveled in her mind. It’s something she thought about for years and it was her “fun” / side project. Over the course of a bunch of years, until TOG was starting to wrap up, she kept coming back to it. 

This was the story she wanted to tell because she loved Bryce and Hunt so much by that point. It was over the course of years daydreaming about this story and peeling away the images of the story. She had a lot of fun writing this book.

How does she keep track of the worlds she creates?

Publisher has an official bible which they constantly reference and she has an awesome editor that remembers all the important stuff and small moments/lines. She has a terrible memory in real life but SJM keeps all her stories occupied in her brain. Also keeps a bunch of notebooks.

We don’t know much about Hunt’s origin so are we going to find out about his parentage and background in the next book? 

We will learn more about Hunt in the next book. As for his well-being, “I make no promises. I’m not saying anything about anything.” LOL. “I will say that when I was working on HOSAB my editor and I were thinking about what was the most horrible thing that could happen.” Originally she considered him getting his wings chopped off again but her editor was like “what can be worse” and it’s the slave tattoo again. A new level of trauma for him to unload in the next book. “He has a lot of room to grow and shit to deal with it. Poor Hunt, he’s in for a journey coming up.” 

Will we find out more about the Autumn King? Does he connect to the Autumn Court?

Yes, we will learn more (about him not necessarily yes to the Autumn Court connection). “He’s not a father in any way.” In the process of writing and editing, he’s become one of her favorite to write because he’s so horrible and terrible. He’s capable of doing the right thing but doesn’t. He’s just a fucked up, horrible person. It’s a lot of fun to put opposing characters in a room to see what happens (bryce vs autumn king). It’s so satisfying for her to see a woman get one up on a douchey asshole.

Ruhn question - Some headcanon in the SJM fandom (that I didn’t quite catch but it made them all laugh) Something about Ruhn and vibrators? Sarah nearly fell down the stairs laughing about this. Now that she’s thinking about sweet Ruhn and where he is, she feels bad. (SARAH NO).

Talked about her writing process - Sometimes she will write a whole draft and realize it’s not what she wants. When she was working on HOFAS, she was going through some shit (didn’t want to elaborate) and she wrote the whole thing but then she didn’t like it. She was “meh” about it. She knew she hadn’t found the right story and it wasn’t good enough. She is very intense about her writing and wants to put her very best writing out there. 

There’s a little bit of an extra gap between the books because she had her baby but also she went through the first/second round of edits with other things going on that she wasn’t in the right space. She felt like she needed to throw out the whole thing and start over. She wrote a brand new draft in 4-5 weeks and then she found the story. A couple of scenes stayed from the first draft but almost of it is new. She never wants to put out any work she doesn’t believe in. “You can’t fix a blank page.” so it’s all part of the writing process for her. 

For example, the book she’s working on now - spent the whole day writing a scene but she doesn’t like it and it’s part of the process. 

What it was like waiting for readers to get to the ending of HOSAB / Another author asked about when she decided to crash her worlds together the author can’t fathom that Sarah didn’t plan this out from the beginning so when Aelin went through the worlds and Rhys sees her - “Are you some crazy genius where all these little breadcrumbs come into your brain or was it intentional?” 

Not a genius in any way. Talks about her son and how he says “I’m Sarah J Mask” - her kids keep her humble (lmao). Her son is obsessed with Taylor Swift so it doesn’t matter what she does, she’ll never be Taylor Swift so she’ll never be cool (lol). She loves Taylor and has so much respect for her and now she knows all her songs because they only listened to her in the car. She has the little golden book of TS for her son (LOL). In the eyes of her son, TS is the only creative genius and she is all for it. 

When it comes to the ending of this book, she knew for a while and knew these worlds overlapped before she started working on KOA. She knew Aelin was going to crash through these worlds and had already started daydreaming on CC. When she wrote that scene of Aelin, she wanted her to go through the ACOTAR world and see Feysand then had her go through the CC world. When she was really working on CC officially, while daydreaming about it, she got into this idea of the worlds and how they’re all technically connected. She remembered having this “what the fuck” moment of HOSAB’s ending. “I don’t know what’s happening to my body” and everything clicked in. While working on CC1, she was able to plant some seeds.

When she finally wrote the end of HOSAB with Rhys, she cried. Things had just completely gone to shit in CC and “my wonderful Rhys” comes in. One of her favorite parts that she’s ever written. 

Will we see ACOTAR characters coming in/having POVs? - “I’m not saying anything about anything.”  We will see some of the ACOTAR world. It basically picks up close to where we left off.

Is Dankia really dead - “Um, yeah.” LOL “She is dead and as much as I wish was miraculously living, she’s dead.”

Is Connor really dead - “Yes?” LOL

Does Emil really have no powers? - Passed on answering this. “I like it.”

With magic being weaker in the modern world, do mates mean the same thing in the fantasy (ACOTAR/TOG) as they do in the modern world? - Pass because (they started speaking over each other here but I assume it will be because we will understand more of this in HOFAS). 

Is Hunt really Bryce’s mate - “Am I going to destroy some kind of theory?” She answered, “YES, HE IS HER MATE.”  She talked about how she’s changed the LI in her other series (the FMC’s first LI not being her last one) but with CC she kept the same LI from the beginning to the end -  “If they both make it to the end.” (she’s so mean for this LOL)

When the first ACOTAR book came out, it was hard for her to keep Feysand a secret because people would tell her how much they loved Tamlin and she had to just smile awkwardly about it (lolol).

How much of Bryce’s power has she accessed? - We’ll see in the next book!

They talked a little about parenting and their kids aging and personal stories for a bit. 

CL mentioned SJM previously saying that people won’t need to read ACOTAR to read CC and vice versa. Is that statement still true? - “You should read ACOTAR and if you haven’t read ACOTAR and get to HOSAB, it’ll make you want to read it.” She had them put an AD in the back of HOSAB for people to read ACOTAR. She then said, “I do not stand by that statement. I renounce this statement. Read ACOTAR first.” (👀)

Discussed the cover of HOFAS and whether the cover has a dragon head - “I am not saying anything. There are always easter eggs.”  She added, “We made sure there were many easter eggs.”  It’s probably her favorite cover. It came together so beautifully. 

Did she write HOSAB in order? - She’s always super pumped to write her endings. She has to write in a linear/chronical fashion and she dangles the ending as motivation. She was powering through the rest of the book so she could get to writing the endings of HOSAB. It was the same with ACOSF with Nesta in the Blood Rite and saving Feyre. 

What were some of the most fun/favorite/hardest scenes- In HOEAB, when Hunt discovers Bryce’s unicorn collection. Sarah has collections of My Little Pony and has been in bidding wars for them. She loves them LOL.  Another scene will always be Bryce and Danika doing the drop. She still cries thinking about it. “Call me sentimental, cheesy, or whatever - I believe in our darkest moments we aren’t alone.”  That scene means a lot to her. 

In HOSAB - she loved the opening of the book where they’re basically at a frat party “Wonder where the inspo for that came from” LOL / She loves the little moments of them living their lives and getting to be themesleevs in between disasters. She loved it when Ruhn was super stoned lmao. She also loved the scene with The Hind and Ithan in the bar as well as the end of HOSAB with the Hind revealing herself to her Ruhn; she cried a lot while writing those scenes. 

She gets so emotionally involved with her books/characters. Most of the book is what she loves. She needs to be obsessed with her book because she has to read it over so many times and stay in love with it as she rereads it.

She remembers seeing tear stains on copies of her manuscripts. She loves all her characters so much and they make it worth it across all the series. They feel real to her.  She’s getting to see them in all aspects of their lives. 

Three Bigger Questions - 

One of the reasons they clicked as friends is because they have the same fangirl heart - CL loves her passion for things. How does it feel to have this fandom follow her the way she follows her favorites? Sarah mentions how she was a fangirl of CL first. 

It feels weird to even say fandom for her books. It’s beyond anything she’s ever hoped for herself. There’s no ego here but she grew up as a fangirl for so many things so it blows her mind that people connect with these characters and worlds and that they mean something to them. She also has a profound sense of gratitude that she gets to do what she loves because of the people who read her books. She’s deeply appreciative of the joy and enthusiasm we bring to the books. It’s a very humbling and moving thing to inspire someone. 

Every time she sees someone reading her book, she walks up to them and talks about it apparently! One girl on the street walked by her and Josh and they saw a tattoo of the mountain with three stars and they wanted to ask her about it. Sarah sent Josh to ask her about her tattoo. “He wasn’t cool about it, he just blurted it out.”  She then introduced herself but the girl didn’t seem to believe her HAHA. “No makeup and in regular street clothes. I think she thought I was a lunatic on the street. I don’t think she left the encounter believing it was me.” “I’m going to be quiet and not scare people anymore.” 

She saw a guy on the subway reading ACOMAF “Is he reading some sexy ass stuff on the subway?” but he was reading it because his gf was reading it.

It blows her mind seeing people read her books in real life just like seeing her book on shelves never gets old. 

Now that CC3 is done, what are you working on now? 

Currently working on/drafting the next ACOTAR novel! That’s all she will say. She has become so focused and excited writing this book. She described it as the feeling when you’re first obsessed with someone and all they’re thinking about. For the next god knows how many months or “a million years”  LOL

[poorchoicesarebettr]

doing this again since new theoris have come out and I wanna re-do predictions

Already out 206/207

.208: Stolas and Blitzø ep. The asmodian crystal probaly being handed over and the two not needing their booty calls anymore. Blitzø thinking this means Stolas is done with him but stolas is just trying to care for Blitz, more drama and slow burn from them.

.209 Blitzø going to apologize to those he's wrong, possibly while drunk off his ass so his emotions just come out, maybe more of a Verosika episode since she's the one Blitz has not attempted to make amends with still.

.210 I really hope this is just gonna be a fun/not serious episode about IMP hired in a haunted house and maybe some ghost flirting. Just a silly episode like Loo Loo Land, not too plot filled.

.211 okay, two ideas here. I saw someone say that there is a image from Viv on her insta story about audio she was organizing, maybe an ayy lmao short?? But they theorized this will b a stolas episode sine Andrealphus' name is apparently just barely able to be seen. The emoji still makes me think of Satan, fire doesn't fit at all with Andrealphus or Stolas? Maybe next sin? Although, I think Satan will be in s3 since we go back to Wrath from clips of Sallie May's voice actor on VivziePop's insta story.

.212 xmas ep. I feel 100% a sin is gonna be introduced this episode. I just wanna call it. Since it's the last of the season I'm thinking there's a fight or something between sins for any reason, and that causes drama to kick off s3. Or something gets fucked up with Stolitz. I hope this is a sins episode epsically since it's called sinsmas. I also feel like it could've also been sinmas, but there's an extra s, to make it sins, more than one? I dont think so but stll. Idk.

Debate with me, send asks, comments, even relongs, i love to discusse

[im-tops-bottom]

Jeongin: *content sigh as he smiles staring out the window*

Seungmin: is Innie okay? He looks like Bokkie finally said yes into going out with him

Han: he did

Seungmin: oh

...

Seungmin: OH! REALLY? AYY LETS GO INNIE! I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT

Jeongin: *smiles at the car next to theirs as he sees a smiling Felix in the back seat*

Seungmin: god you're so gone for that man

Han: oh leave him alone

Hyunjin: he's in love

Jeongin: how long do red lights stay red?

Seungmin: I don't know

Han: why?

Jeongin: because Felix's window is down and I wanna lean out of mine to kiss him. Fuck it, I'm going for it

Hyunjin: oh hell no! Baby bread on the loose, I repeat a whole ass baby bread is on the loose

Seungmin: *tries to drag Jeongin back in the car*

Han: *screeches*

Jeongin: *leans right out of the car window thanking the heavens that their cars are really close to each other and kisses Felix who's head is already sticking out the window wondering when it was their turn to go*

Felix: *feels the kiss and jumps in shock* oh *looks up and smiles at Jeongin* hi

Jeongin: *swoons* hey angel you're looking pretty today

Chan: and you look like you're one more street away from an ass beating, get your ass back in the car

Felix: *giggles as he quickly leans out the car to kiss Jeongin* see you back at the dorms

Jeongin: *smiles* see you back in the dorms *moves back into the car*

-car 1-

Seungmin: that was incredibly stupid Innie you could have hurt yourself, could have hurt him, could have gotten all of us into trouble

Hyunjin: yeah Jesus don't give us a heart attack like that ever again. The Felix bakery is going to be empty with out it's bread

Han: *says nothing because he's already fainted and passed out on his seat*

Manager: *driving the car as the lights turn green* for once I would just like to drive the other car around that doesn't have the insane members

Jeongin: *ignores everyone has he goes back into daydream land thinking about Felix*

-car 2-

Chan: *driving the car* that was very stupid of you to lean out like that, you could have gotten hurt

Changbin: next time we are making sure the both of you are in the same car so this doesn't happen again

Minho: be careful with that, our baby Innie might jump our baby Lixie

Chan, Changbin and Minho: *goes on to talk about other possible crazy stunts their tank loaf would do when around Felix*

Felix: *ignores everyone, leans on his chin on his arms that are laying on the window frame as he closes his eyes letting the wind blow in his face as he thinks about Jeongin*

[wisteriashouse]

fortuitous

pairing: kaveh x jeanne de la roche (oc)

genre: romance; commission

word count: 10521

a/n: had to go rewatch kaveh's story quest for this ayy @hinokami-s

If Kaveh has to interact with just one more person on his way home, he thinks that he might have a breakdown right outside Puspa’s Cafe that is going to be everybody’s problem.

He isn’t going to, of course — Kaveh is far too much of a people pleaser for that — but archons is he close to his breaking point. He’s been up even before the sun today, bouncing between what had felt like an endless amount of meetings with increasingly unbearable clients. Now that the day is over, however, Kaveh can barely feel any relief. Instead, all he can think about is face first into his bed the second he gets through the front door.

He stops in front of one of the houses along Treasures Street, fumbling with the bag on his shoulder. Please, please, don’t let this be yet another of those times where he has to ask Al-Haitham to open the door… He rifles more desperately through its jumbled contents once more, hears a familiar jangle of metal muffled at the bottom. “There you are!”

So he hadn’t forgotten his keys after all, which might be the first thing that has gone well for him today. The key turns smoothly in the lock and Kaveh steps into the house, embarrassingly proud of himself, until he sees Al-Haitham sitting on the couch with a cup of tea in his hand and a book open on his lap.

A completely normal sight, considering that this is his house. What isn’t normal is that the miserly stickler appears to be doing work. Outside of his regular working hours? Impossible!

Kaveh sticks his head back outside to check the sky situation. The sun is setting over the Avidya Forest, the sky is clear with small patches of clouds drifting by and… hmm, no flying pigs. Very, very odd. 

“Al-Haitham,” Kaveh says as he toes off his slippers at the door and turns around, “did those Spantamed researchers you were talking about slip a potion into your food or something? Because there is something seriously wrong with you today— woah!”

A pair of aquamarine blue eyes blink up at him from the couch, and Kaveh nearly falls over his own feet as he stumbles backwards in surprise. Not his best moment, he knows. Seated next to Al-Haitham (and conveniently blocked off from his line of sight by the door) is a young woman, a few papers in her gloved hands. Her clothes are clearly foreign, bearing the sharp yet flamboyant silhouettes characteristic of Fontainian couture. Her features too, look foreign. Most likely not a Sumerian.

An overseas Akademiya associate, perhaps? No, no, the man sitting in front of him would rather dance stark naked for the Zubayr Theatre than bring Akademiya work home. Logically, that only leaves one possibility… that she is Al-Haitham’s friend.

A highly unlikely possibility, since Al-Haitham doesn’t have any friends. Kaveh would know. Besides, why would anyone, much less a beautiful lady like her, put up with that acerbic tongue of his?

But all that is irrelevant to Kaveh’s current predicament. Someone has seen him entering Al-Haitham’s house, and if they have even one brain cell, will surely put two and two together and realise that Kaveh has been forced to take up residence with Al-Haitham. It might be just one person, but that is already one person too many. He needs to think of a solution, and fast!

“Hi! Good, amazing evening.” Kaveh is all too painfully aware of just how nervous he sounds right now, fumbling at his bag desperately as though hoping to magic out some sort of assistance from its depths. “Hey, Al-Haitham. Didn’t see you there. Amazing house. Never been here in my life, ever. I just stopped by on my way to the tavern to hand you this…” he pulls out a miniature model of the Alcazarzaray Palace from his bag. Fuck. “Well, I hope you like it. Here you go.”

The woman stares at him as he plants the model on the coffee table and glances over at Al-Haitham, but not before he catches the brief flash of recognition in her eyes. Oh, it’s over. Oh, it’s so over — his reputation, his dignity — all gone like a puff of smoke in the wind.

“Come in before you make a fool of yourself — more than you already have, at least,” the Acting Grand Sage mutters from his couch, blocking out Kaveh’s indignant expression with a well timed sip of tea. “Jeanne here is a business associate of mine from Fontaine. I assure you, she hasn’t the slightest interest in your living arrangements. There’s no need to think too highly of yourself.”

Kaveh opens his mouth to protest, but manages to rein in his tongue at the last moment. No, he’s not going to sink down to Al-Haitham’s level.

Instead, he grudgingly shuts the door behind him and steps into the house, glances at Jeanne as he does. So she’s Fontainian, just as he’d guessed. Kaveh is still a little wary, but Al-Haitham isn’t the type to lie for the sake of something as pointless as petty entertainment. And he seems to be right, because the lady’s attention has already returned to the papers in her hands.

He tries not to stare too much as he moves to set his things down in the kitchenette. Al-Haitham and the woman seem to be deep in discussion about something that Kaveh can’t quite make out. Listening in to other people’s conversation is in poor taste, but Kaveh can’t shake the nagging feeling that they might be talking about him. He knows that it’s paranoia, but it doesn’t stop him from loitering around the kitchen area, keeping an ear out for the conversation.

“... but it depends on which area he was arrested in…”

“... oh? The laws change depending on that?”

“... Akademiya might be the official governing body of Sumeru, but the desert… Eremites…”

From what he’s able to gather, the two seem to be talking about a criminal — a Fontainian noble who’d fled to Sumeru after being convicted of a crime back in his homeland. And this lady, Jeanne, is the one responsible for hunting him down and bringing him back to Fontaine to stand trial. She hands him another sheet of paper. “And this would be enough for the Akademiya to release him back into our custody?”

“Were you expecting something more convoluted?” Al-Haitham shrugs, bringing his cup back to his lips. “We don’t want him here in Sumeru, what can I say? The quicker he leaves our borders, the better it is for us. Why, is there going to be a problem with that?”

Jeanne shakes her head. “No. I much prefer it this way. Legal proceedings tend to be… needlessly complicated in Fontaine. I’m just glad to hear that things are far more efficient here.” She reaches into the heavy bag by her feet, and pulls out what is frankly a terrifying stack of papers. “Unfortunately, since you are the one approving his extradition, the court of Fontaine will require you to fill in these forms for the different legal offices.”

The look Al-Haitham aims at those papers could probably curdle milk in a matter of seconds. Jeanne glances at him out of the corner of her eye, before she wordlessly takes half of them back. “Although I am not familiar with Sumeru’s laws, I can try to fill in some of the more mundane questions. Apologies for troubling you, Al-Haitham.”

The Acting Grand Sage eyes the papers with no small amount of disgust, but he eventually sighs and reaches over to take the papers from her. “No worries. I can do it.”

Kaveh has to remind himself not to stare too conspicuously at his roommate. Al-Haitham? Agreeing to take on unnecessary work? The man sitting in front of him must be some sort of Kshahrewar doppelganger, because Kaveh doesn’t recognise him at all.

Jeanne frowns. “But—”

“I was a scribe before my current… inconvenience.” That is no way to speak about the coveted position of the Akademiya Grand Sage! “I’m quick with a pen.” His roommate looks at her. “Besides, I think I finish things more efficiently alone.”

Kaveh’s mouth drops open with no small amount of horror. That’s not how you speak to a lady, you idiot!

But Jeanne only nods, an expression of relief on her face. “You have my gratitude, Al-Haitham.” Its recipient only waves it off.

“Come back tomorrow and I should have everything done by then. And please, enough with the formalities. Pointless courtesies tire me out.”

“Hm. If you say so.”

The two stand up, and Kaveh hurries back to minding his own business. He reaches for a cup, but ends up knocking it over. The wooden mug lands on the floor with a loud clack.

Kaveh closes his eyes, glances back to see Al-Haitham and the woman looking at him, and immediately averts his gaze to pick the cup up. Well, as if today hasn’t been embarrassing enough for him already. This is just salt on an open wound, now.

He chances another glance over his shoulder and very nearly drops the cup again when he sees Jeanne still staring at him. Not that he’s not flattered, but it does make him a little uncomfortable. Why, does he still have paint on his face? Or worse, does she recognise him somehow?

Before he can beat a hasty retreat to his room, Jeanne turns to Al-Haitham. What leaves her mouth next shocks him. “Could I take your roommate out for a quick conversation?”

Kaveh stares at her, stunned. He’s standing right here, you know! In earshot and everything! Al-Haitham frowns at him — why! — before waving Kaveh over — double why!

“Kaveh,” Al-Haitham announces, matter-of-factly, before Kaveh can get a word in. “Jeanne wants to have a word with you.” What, that’s it? No elaboration and no explanation? The two of them have never met before — what business does she have with him? 

And if he’s being honest, Kaveh is a little terrified by the idea. Not just because she hadn’t told him why she suddenly wants to speak with him, but she is a rather intimidating lady with that large scar over the bridge of her nose, the glass-splinter hardness to her eyes. Eyes that are, oh, looking at him again.

“If you would be so kind, Monsieur Kaveh,” Jeanne adds. Kaveh likes to think that he is good at reading people — a fun effect of overthinking and all that — but her expression is even more indecipherable than Al-Haitham’s. 

He stares intently at his roommate, trying to convey his reluctance with his eyes. “Well, I’m kind of tired today, so…”

“She isn’t going to eat you,” Kaveh yelps as Al-Haitham begins to push him in the direction of the door. Maybe he is the one who’s too easy to read? “Now, get out of here so that I can finish this paperwork in some peace and quiet.”

“I am a very considerate person!” Jeanne follows the two of them as Kaveh protests. “I am the very epitome of peace and quiet!”

“Your voice is shrill. And it hurts my ears.”

“My voice isn’t shrill. You’re just…”

Despite his vigorous protesting, Kaveh is escorted out of the living room and through the front door. Jeanne steps out of the doorway elegantly, adjusting the collar of her coat as Kaveh stumbles to catch his balance. 

“Don’t let him drink too much,” is all Kaveh hears in Al-Haitham’s usual bland tone, before the door swings shut in front of him.

Kaveh stares blankly at the closed door for a few seconds in disbelief before he shakes his fist at it. “May the gods bring a plague upon you and your…” he pauses, hesitates, “upon just you, you rude bastard…”

“I apologise for my rudeness.” Kaveh spins around to see Jeanne still standing there, and right, he’d quite forgotten that she is the reason he’s out here in the first place. He’s never met her before, or at least he doesn’t think he has — he’s quite sure that he would remember someone as striking as her if he had.

“Ah, no. It’s fine.” He licks his lips awkwardly, looks over his shoulder for an exit route. The door is still shut. “Umm… you said that you wanted to speak to me—”

“Ah. I realise that I have failed to properly introduce myself.” Jeanne shakes her head and takes a step forward, holds out a gloved hand. Kaveh takes it, trying not to show too much awkwardness on his face.

Instead of shaking it, however, Jeanne grasped it lightly before leaning down to press her lips to the back of it. An action that, most understandably, turns Kvaeh into a flushed, flustered mess almost right away. “Greetings. I am Jeanne Éscarlate de la Roche, first daughter of the de la Roches family and an enforcer with the Maison Gardiennage.” The de la Roches… Kaveh has never heard of this family, but they sound important. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Architect Kaveh, Light of Kshahrewar. I have heard many good things about you.”

Kaveh nearly chokes at that obnoxious title, shaking his head at once. “Please, please, don’t call me that. I’m just Kaveh.”

Jeanne’s grip on his hand falters, her expression turning mildly confused. “Apologies… have I mistaken your identity? Al-Haitham is the one who introduced you as such… Are you not the illustrious architect of Kshahrewar who designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray, Kaveh?”

Kaveh can scarcely believe his ears. Al-Haitham said that? Is he going to burst into song next? Surely she is being polite — there is no way his roommate would ever speak a single, positive word about him. Squeezing water from a rock would be a more plausible feat. “I… Well, I am an architect.”

“Do you mean to say there is another architect named Kaveh who designed the Palace of Alcazarzaray in Sumeru?”

Each question feels like a bullet round being fired point blank at him. Please… he doesn’t want to have to say it out loud. “I… was the architect who designed that, yes.”

“Ah.” It’s hard to see, because her expression remains almost completely unchanged, but he notices the way that her eyes briefly light up — and his stomach drops at once. Is she somehow familiar with one of his acquaintances in Sumeru? One that is unaware of his current living arrangements? If word gets out, it’ll definitely spread like wildfire, and Kaveh’s reputation as a reliable architect and businessman will be in ruins and tatters!

Before Kaveh can come up with a way to minimise the damage already caused, Jeanne continues to speak. “Then, you must be familiar with my younger sister, Arabella, I presume?”

Who? The name is completely foreign to him. Arabella… a Fontainian… someone’s younger sister… dark hair and a feathered hat similar to the one on Jeanne’s head come to mind. “Do you mean Aria?”

“That is the name she often goes by when travelling, yes.” Jeanne nods very seriously at that, seemingly oblivious to Kaveh’s surprise. The Aria that he’d met at Lambad’s Tavern by chance a couple of years ago had been a bubbly, excitable and expressive lady with a rare flair for the arts. Nothing at all like the stoic, impassive woman standing in front of him right now.

Still, Aria — or Arabella now, he assumes — has mentioned her siblings multiple times over drinks. An overly responsible older sister who doesn’t know how to express herself but is as sweet as sugar underneath… Well, Kaveh can definitely see Jeanne fitting the first half of the description to the letter.

“Yeah, I know Ari— Arabella,” Kaveh nods, trying not to sound too taken aback. “Is she what you wanted to speak to me about?”

Jeanne nods solemnly. There is a grave expression on her face. From the way that Aria had spoken about her siblings, Kaveh doesn’t think that the woman in front of him has any malicious intentions. Still… there must be some sort of reason that she’s here, instead of speaking to her sister directly, isn’t she? “I’d just like to say… if you’re expecting me to divulge any secrets of hers, then I think we should end this conversation here. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

Jeanne blinks at him, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face, before a quiet noise escapes her mouth. It takes Kaveh approximately five seconds to realise that it was a laugh. 

“You are a person of honourable character,” she tells him, and although her expression seems to have barely changed, there is definitely a glint of approval to her eyes that wasn’t there earlier. Kaveh feels like he’s just passed a test of some sort. “I didn’t doubt my sister’s judgement, but now I see for myself why she speaks so highly of you.”

Aria does? Kaveh isn’t sure if the two of them are particularly close. They run into each other whenever Aria decides to travel to Sumeru. They drink together, exchange their ideas about the arts, and occasionally their woes. To know that she thinks well of him… it’s surprising, but also strangely pleasant.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Perhaps, I should have phrased my words more accurately.” Jeanne nods, grasping her cane with one white gloved hand. “I wish to speak to you about my sister, but I assure you that I do not intend to pry out of you anything that she wishes to keep hidden.”

She sounds genuine enough. Kaveh nods slowly. “Go on…”

“I am here for… advice, I suppose.” Jeanne’s expression is thoughtful as she speaks, as though contemplating each word very carefully. “I am untalented at discerning the emotions of others, but even I can tell that my sister has become troubled as of late. She has been sneaking off to other nations more regularly for trips, but does not seem any happier when she returns. It is quite unlike her.” She looks at Kaveh, and he sees her brows slightly furrowed with concern. “Hence, I wish to ask you if you might have any insights on this matter.”

Kaveh purses his lips. This was unexpected, but not surprising. He might not see Arabella very often, but the two of them can be considered drinking buddies. Alcohol has a tendency to loosen people’s lips, bringing more of their true thoughts to the surface. 

And he has noticed Arabella’s sudden bouts of sullenness. It would be harder not to, with how excitable and happy-go-lucky she usually is. He thinks back to the most recent conversation that the two of them had. 

“Why don’t you tell your siblings about this?” Kaveh had suggested, when Arabella had brought this up. The two of them might be on friendly terms, but Kaveh doesn’t think that they are close enough for him to advise her on such a complicated issue. Cultural and societal norms differ between Fontaine and Sumeru, too.

Arabella had stared into her empty tankard for a long while. “I don’t want them to have to worry about me…” she’d confessed after a moment of silence. “I’ve taken care of these kids since they were… kids. It’s strange to talk to them about my own problems, y’know?”

He actually doesn’t, because Kaveh has never had siblings in his life. But he does understand locking up all his emotions and throwing away the key so as not to bother others. He’d never met any of Arabella’s siblings before, so he’d refrained from commenting further, but now…

Well, not that he knows Jeanne very well. But she seems to be someone who genuinely cares for Arabella, and Kaveh can get behind that.

“I don’t know everything,” he admits slowly. The intensity of Jeanne’s gaze makes him sweat a little, but Kaveh presses on bravely. “It’s a little… complicated, though, and might take a while to explain…”

Jeanne blinks, before taking a step back. Kaveh lets out an unconscious sigh of relief. “Apologies. I hadn’t considered that.” She glances at the street over her shoulder. “I suppose that this is indeed a poor place to have a serious conversation. How about we go to Lambad’s Tavern to discuss this over some drinks?”

Kaveh brightens up instantly at the sound of alcohol, realises that, and then immediately attempts to tone down his excitement. He’s been trying to cut back on drinking for a while now, to a low degree of success, but… come on, it’s been a stressful day. And it’s not like he was the one who initiated it, was he? “Well, if you’re insisting…”

“Oh. Do not worry, I am not. If you are uncomfortable with drinking—”

“No! I mean, no, I’m— ah, well. I’m not against drinking as long as it is done in moderation, of course.” Jeanne nods very seriously in response to his half-hearted words. 

“That is a good mindset to have. All things must be enjoyed in moderation, else it becomes too easy for one to succumb to indulgence.” Kaveh feels like he wants to wilt in embarrassment. “Then, shall we get going?”

“Alright, then…” Kaveh glances back at the locked door for a second. He feels as though he’s forgotten something important, but he can’t quite remember what it is. “Oh. Wait, umm…” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, feeling suddenly awkward. “Could I ask you for a favour?”

Jeanne looks at him, completely serious. “If it is reasonable and within my power, of course.”

“That is great.” Kaveh gestures back at the house, where Al-Haitham is undoubtedly enjoying his quiet and alone time. “Could I trouble you to keep my current, uhm, living arrangements a secret?”

“You mean the fact that you live with Al-Haitham?”

Kaveh cringes instinctively at the sound of it. “Yes, that.”

Jeanne’s brows lift slightly, a near imperceptible movement. “Is there any reason you do not wish for others to know that you are living with Al-Haitham? I noticed that you were acting oddly earlier, when you first returned to the house, but I could not figure out why.”

Fuck, had he really been that obvious? “I just…” He hesitates for a moment. It’s too difficult to put everything into just words. How is Kaveh supposed to explain why he’s worried about his reputation without sounding like a complete and total snob? And if he tells her about his financial struggles… she’d definitely laugh at him because of the whole Palace of Alcazarzaray fiasco. “It’s just embarrassing,” he says at last, putting his hands together in a show of supplication. “So… don’t tell anyone. Please?”

Jeanne nods solemnly. “Of course. I shall respect your wishes. I am not familiar with many people in Fontaine, so rest assured that I have no reason to tell anyone.”

That’s a relief to hear. “Then, shall we go?”

“Oh, yes. This way, please…”

>>>

Although he had initially been excited for some drinks, his enthusiasm is at rock bottom by the time they reach the tavern. The reason? The walk down Treasures Street might have been the most awkward experience that Kaveh has ever had to suffer through in all the years of his life. Not because the conversation went poorly, but because there had been no conversation at all.

Surely it is socially polite to… make small talk while in the presence of another person, yes? But Jeanne hadn’t said a single word since leaving the house, leaving Kaveh to stew in awkward silence all the way until the tavern. Part of him is seriously starting to regret coming out in the first place.

Fortunately, there is a fair crowd at Lambad’s Tavern tonight, the air filled with the hum of idle chatter. The two of them find seats at the edge of the tavern, and Kaveh, unable to endure the silence any longer, finally speaks up. “So… is there anything that you’d like?”

Jeanne looks down at the menu in her hands, before she pushes it over to him. “I’m not very familiar with alcohol,” she tells him bluntly. “I just tend to drink whatever others order. Get anything you’d like.”

Kaveh glances up from the menu, momentarily thrown off. “So… you’re not actually a drinker? I don’t want to accidentally get you hammered…”

“Oh, don’t worry. That won’t be an issue,” Jeanne reassures him. “I might not have any inclination towards alcohol, but it doesn’t mean that I am inexperienced. My work tends to put me in positions where I have to drink, so my alcohol tolerance is extraordinarily high.”

That doesn’t sound very good… Kaveh resolves not to order anything too high in alcohol percentage tonight. All for Jeanne’s sake, and not because he’s a complete and utter lightweight, of course. “Any preferences…?”

“I usually find the overpowering bitterness of coffee very refreshing.”

Kaveh stares for a second too long before he looks down at the menu once more. “I’ll just order something simple then.”

“Sounds good.”

He puts down his order, and Lambad quickly comes around to their table. He raises an eyebrow when he sees Kaveh and Jeanne together. “With a different gal this month, eh? You sure are popular with the Fontainian ladies, Kaveh!”

Kaveh’s entire face goes red. “What? I’m not—” Lambad sets the bottle of anise and date wine between the two of them, before he grins at an unsmiling Jeanne. “Have a fun night, the two of you.”

He’s gone before Kaveh can say anything else. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Kaveh turns to Jeanne at once. “He’s just, uh, trying to be funny. Ignore him.”

“I can appreciate his sense of humour and his efforts to put me at ease,” Jeanne replies seriously, as she reaches out to pour them both a cup. “But speaking about my sister… When was the last time that the two of you met? I would like confirmation about the timeframe that I have in mind.”

Kaveh swills the milky white alcohol in his cup. The slight scent of licorice rises up to his nose. “Hmm… maybe a month or so? She mentioned having some trouble back in Fontaine that she couldn’t put off any longer.”

“Trouble. Hmm…” Jeanne stares at the table for a few seconds, before she knocks back the entire cup. Kaveh stares at her, open mouthed in shock, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Did my sister mention what kind of trouble?”

He takes a much more modest sip of wine from his cup and instantly makes a face at the burn in his throat. No, Lambad didn’t serve them a watered down bottle of alcohol. How did Jeanne even… nevermind. “Something related to romance? She didn’t talk about it explicitly, but she did ask me for advice about how to approach a man… not that I’m very helpful in that regard, I think.”

“I’m sure that you were very helpful,” Jeanne offers, completely sincere.

“No, I definitely wasn’t.” Kaveh shakes his head, takes another sip. “But, uh, I suppose she has a lover… or maybe a potential lover of sorts in Fontaine? One that she doesn’t quite know how to approach?”

“Hmm. Up till now, I thought that lover might have been you. But I suppose that I was wrong.”

Kaveh chokes on his cup instantly. What did she just say? “What!?”

Jeanne hands him a clean white kerchief in alarm. “I apologise for causing you such agitation,” she tells him, her expression genuinely apologetic. “I should have known better. You are not my sister’s type.”

Kaveh coughs one last time and dabs at the corner of his mouth with the kerchief — luxurious, thick Silk Flower silk with no creases. It almost feels too expensive to be putting his mouth on. “... thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” Jeanne sits back down and downs yet another cup of the wine. That’s like her, what, third cup now? And she still looks stone cold sober. Terrifying… “Do you have any idea as to who this potential lover might be? I already have an idea of this person’s identity, but I would like to make sure.”

“Uhmm…” Kaveh takes another sip of wine to cover up his embarrassment. “Someone who’s in a… unique position of power? Complicated social standing? Yeah, that’s how she described him.”

“Hm. That does confirm my suspicions.” Jeanne leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest thoughtfully. She seems to have relaxed a bit now, which is good. Or so Kaveh had thought, because she spends the next few minutes pondering this all on her own, leaving Kaveh to the sad, melancholy tune of silence once more.

Not wanting to disturb her, Kaveh turns to the only thing left to do — the bottle of wine on the table. He pours himself a cup, and then another, and then another. Lambad doesn’t skimp on quality — sailors know the value of good alcohol, and this wine is some of the best that Kaveh has ever tasted. Which, eventually, leads to another problem: the bottle has run dry.

Kaveh upturns the bottle, shakes it vigorously and sets it back down with a sigh. Seems like that’s it for the night, he thinks, but Jeanne notices, to his surprise. “Let us order another bottle.”

That won’t be healthy for his wallet. But how is he supposed to turn her down nicely? “I don’t think we really need another drink… we won’t be here for much longer, will we?”

Jeanne blinks at him. “We won’t? Oh, am I unpleasant company to be around?”

“No!” Kaveh rushes to correct her. “I just… I just thought that you didn’t have anything else to ask me, so…”

“I would like to know more about my sister’s friend in Sumeru,” Jeanne corrects, and flags down one of the staff members serving drinks. “Order without hesitation. Since you have done me a great favour today, the drinks are on me.”

Really? “No! Really, there’s no need.” The staff member who had come up next to their table is starting to look a little annoyed now. “I don’t need any more drinks.”

“We’ll have whichever alcohol you recommend, thank you” Jeanne tells the staff member, who huffs and disappears back to the main building. Kaveh winces, awkward. “You didn’t have to…”

“As I said, you have done me a great favour today. I dislike leaving favours unpaid.”

“This can barely be considered a favour.”

“It might seem insignificant to you, but the weight that it has taken off my mind is immeasurable.” She says this so seriously that Kaveh cannot bring himself to argue against it. The server soon returns with a jar of snake wine, something that Kaveh has never been able to convince himself to order for his own enjoyment, and sets it on the table in front of him. He can already feel himself salivating.

Jeanne cracks off the top of the jar and pours them both a cup, before pushing Kaveh’s over to him. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you.” Kaveh knocks back the cup before he can hesitate any longer, and very nearly faints with how good it tastes. It must be good, having money. “So… what do you do for a living?”

“Me?” Jeanne pauses, swirling the cup in her hand. “Well, as I mentioned earlier, I am an enforcer with the Maison Gardiennage. We are responsible for Fontaine’s public order and safety.”

Right, Al-Haitham had mentioned that. So that’s why she was discussing criminal matters with him. “I thought that most Gardes wear those blue uniforms.”

“I’m part of the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol, to be more specific. We do not follow the Gardes dress code to move more inconspicuously, although that is rarely helpful in my case.” She gestures at the scar across her face. Kaveh holds back a sympathetic wince. He’d seen it earlier, but now that he’s seated closer, he can see the jagged edges of the scar, the old but healed skin tissue. 

It must have been a painful wound. Jeanne, however, doesn’t seem to be very self-conscious about it. That only gives Kaveh more respect for her.

“And what does the Special Security do?”

She shakes her head. “That is classified. I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you.”

Kaveh laughs, but then it trails off awkwardly. Jeanne said that with such a straight face — it doesn’t seem like a joke. He would like to keep his head right where it is — on his shoulders — thank you very much. 

“Some of the criminals that you’re dealing with?”

“Classified, I’m afraid.”

“Colleagues?”

“Also classified. I can’t go into too much detail about my work — non-disclosure agreement.” Kaveh sighs and takes another sip from his cup. As much as he’d wanted to clear the awkwardness, part of him had also wanted to find out more about this intriguing Fontainian lady in front of him. This is a little disappointing. “Instead, how about you tell me about what you do for work?”

“Me?” Kaveh isn’t too sure why she’d want to hear about his work. Sketching buildings and making mini models sound pretty boring, especially compared to the kind of work that Jeanne probably does on a daily basis. “It’s nothing interesting, really…”

“But my sister always speaks very highly of what you do. She says that you are daring, and have many original ideas that you see through to fruition.” Jeanne counters. “I am someone who lacks originality, so I must admit that I was very intrigued when I heard about that.”

Originality… All Kaveh can remember is the Palace of Alcazarzaray. It’s not that he regrets creating it, it is his magnum opus after all, but pursuing originality does have its cost.

“Why do you think that you lack originality?”

Jeanne purses her lips thoughtfully at that. “After I was adopted into nobility, I was made to go for a number of classes in the classical arts. I picked most of them up rather quickly, but I can only emulate others. For example, I could paint what someone told me to, but I wouldn’t be able to think of what to paint on my own. I memorised many concertos, but could never come up with an original piece. That is why I admire creatives such as you and my sister.”

Oh. The only topic that he and Al-Haitham agree on, probably, is how the rigorous schooling and immense pressure to graduate in the Akademiya tends to stifle original thought. It’s sad to hear the same thing occurring in other nations as well.

“Besides, my sister has praised many of your works in the past. Since I do not have the time to visit all the buildings that you have designed myself, I hope to hear about them from you instead.”

How can he not feel flattered by that? The last person who’d been so interested in hearing about his works had been Arabella herself. Suddenly feeling a little too pleased, Kaveh takes a big gulp of the snake wine and begins to speak. “Then, I can start with telling you about the lighthouse at Port Ormos…”

>>>

“And those stupid old fogeys have no idea what’s possible or not! They wanted a stairway without rails — let me repeat, without rails! Are they idiots? Do they think they can fly? If someone slips off those stairs, that’ll be the end of it for them. But no, they said. Aesthetics are not meant to be practical, they said!”

Jeanne nods and very subtly slides Kaveh’s cup away from him. She now understands why Al-Haitham had told her not to let Kaveh drink too much — the man is a lightweight, and a terrifically noisy drunk to boot. Still, many of his complaints are valid, and he seems to be someone without much of an outlet for his frustrations. Jeanne might get along with Al-Haitham, but she is aware that the man isn’t the best listening ear.

“You should bring them up to a similarly high place and threaten to push them off,” Jeanne suggests. “There are few motivations more potent than fear.”

Kaveh stops his ranting to stare at her. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy and a little unfocused — all symptoms of alcohol overconsumption. Then suddenly, he starts laughing, loudly and almost without abandon. “You’re so funny, you know!” He grins, resting his cheek on an upturned palm as he looks at her. His words are slurring together a little. “As a law enforcer, shouldn’t you know that something like that would be illegal?”

Well, Jeanne is a law enforcer, yes, but she tends to work with… less than legal means. She can’t tell him that, though, so she shakes her head. “Perhaps, you could just covertly hire a few men to beat them up instead? I have the necessary contacts, should you need them.”

The man sitting opposite her coughs. “That’s assault.”

“It’s actually solicitation of assault,” Jeanne corrects him. “Besides, no one will be able to find out that you were the one who hired them as long as you know how to keep things off the record.”

“You know, for a supposed law enforcer, you don’t seem to have a lot of lawful solutions.”

“I apologise for my poor suggestions. I will strive to think of something more practical for you.”

He lets out a snort at that. “Pfft… I’m alright without the hired thugs, thanks…” Kaveh slowly leans forward to put his face down on the table. He seems… tired, for a lack of a better word. Not just the tiredness that comes with insufficient rest, but the bone deep exhaustion of having endured something for too long. “This is quite enough for me. I can’t remember the last time I just ranted to someone like this.”

Jeanne is surprised to hear that. “Not even to my sister?” She thought that the two of them had been close.

“Oh, not because we aren’t friendly or anything.” Kaveh shakes his head against the table top. His cheek is squished as he looks up at Jeanne. “But she has her own troubles sometimes, and I don’t want to make her feel as though she can’t share things with me. A bit hypocritical, I know. Still can’t help it.” He lets out a loud sigh. “I feel kinda guilty, speaking to you too. I don’t want you to think that I’m treating you as an emotional punching bag!”

He’s a funny one. And someone who clearly cares too much about how he affects others, and how others perceive him. As much as he and Al-Haitham fail at getting along harmoniously, she must admit that the Acting Grand Sage is probably the person that truly sees Kaveh as the person that he is.

“I don’t feel that way at all,” Jeanne reassures him, subtly waving the proprietor over to bring the bill. “I’m honoured that you are willing to share with me your troubles, even though we have just met.”

“Well, you make it a little too easy to…” Kaveh grumbles incoherently into his hands. “You… definitely have your own troubles, but you don’t really show it, you know… makes me feel as though I can speak to you without guilt. Ah, but that makes me feel guilty too… I can’t listen to your troubles in return…”

He sounds so suddenly despondent that Jeanne has to shake her head firmly. “As I said, I see it as an honour. There is no debt between us.”

“Hmm…” Kaveh doesn’t seem to be listening anymore, searching the table for something. “Hmm…? Where did my cup go…”

“Here,” Jeanne pushes a cup of plain water in his direction. “Drink up.”

The proprietor glances at Kaveh when he comes over to their table with the bill. “He’s completely smashed again, huh? Not doing so great again.” He gives Jeanne a curious look. “You a new friend of his? Haven’t seen you around these parts.”

“I…” Jeanne pauses for a moment as she drops the required mora into his hand. “I suppose I am.”

“Hmm.” Lambad looks at her again, before he hands her a small glass bottle that fits easily within her palm. Jeanne can smell the pungent odour even without uncorking the bottle. Poison of some sort? Does this man have a grudge against Kaveh? “Hangover cure. Give it to him when he wakes up — he’ll need it.”

So not poison, then. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Lambad waves it off. “Kaveh’s a good kid — helped me remodel some of the seating areas inside the tavern for a discounted price when we were running out of sitting space. Sometimes he helps people out at too high of a cost, and far too little of a benefit to himself. But it’s hard not to like a man like that.”

His words describe what she knows of Kaveh accurately enough. “I agree.”

“Well then, take care of him for me. And get him back home — I’ll need to be closing up shop soon.” Lambad raises a hand and turns around to leave. Jeanne glances back at the man half sprawled out on the table, his styled blonde hair now a mussed mess. But it’s not a bad look on him, Jeanne thinks to herself as she gets to her feet.

She grasps him by the shoulder and shakes him lightly. “Kaveh.” He mumbles under his breath. “Kaveh. We need to go. They’re closing up the tavern.”

“I’m — hng — sleepy.”

“That’s why we need to get you back to your house.”

“Right…” Kaveh slowly pushes himself off the chair, very nearly stumbles over his own feet. Jeanne catches him by the elbow before he can fall over.

“Steady, now. I’ll support you.”

The two of them slowly make their way out of the tavern and along the street, Jeanne with her hand on his elbow to support him. Kaveh squints at her as the two of them walk. “You’re not swaying at all,” he suddenly observes, very loudly. Jeanne nods, keeping her focus on Kaveh’s feet. He looks like he’s about to trip again at any moment.

“I’m not.”

“How’s that possible? You look like you didn’t even have a sip. Did I,” he coughs, shakes his head in confusion, “did I drink both bottles entirely on my own?”

“No. I drank more than half of the amount that we ordered.”

“Oh. So we drank the same amount, then.” Not quite, but Jeanne lets it slide without any argument. “How are you so sober, then? You’re not even,” Kaveh hiccups, squints at her some more, “a little bit drunk.”

“I have a high tolerance.”

“That’s not fair.”

The conversation lasts the two of them all the way back to Al-Haitham’s house. She glances at the windows, but they are shut and no light is coming around the edges. He’s probably asleep already.

She shakes Kaveh, who is now just completely leaning against her to stay upright. “Do you have your keys?”

“My kiss?”

“No, keys.”

“Oh, keys… so that’s what I forgot when I left earlier…” He mumbles a few more incoherent things under his breath, before sagging entirely against her like a sack of potatoes gone limp. Only Jeanne’s lightning fast reflexes allow her to catch him before he can send the both of them crashing to the ground. 

“Kaveh?” She shakes him again, but the man is out like a light. He really is a lightweight… Jeanne glances at the door again, and gives it a hopeful knock. No one comes to open it, unfortunately. Al-Haitham must have worn his noise cancelling headphones to sleep again.

Jeanne looks at Kaveh, tilting her head as she thinks about her next steps. She’s in a bit of a bind now. She could bring Kaveh to one of the inns and get a room for him, but it would be rude and inconvenient to wake up an innkeeper at this time of the night. That only leaves her with one option.

Sighing, Jeanne walks over to Kaveh, bends down and lifts him over her shoulder. He’s as light as she’d guessed, and of no trouble to her. 

“Let us be off, then,” she says aloud to no one, before setting off down the empty street.

>>>

Kaveh wakes up the next morning to sunshine pouring into his room… and directly onto his face. He tries to open his eyes, but feels his retinas drying instantly, and turns away at once. Why is it so bright already? What time did he sleep in until?

Grumbling under his breath — gods, his tongue feels so dry and heavy in his mouth — Kaveh reaches for his bedside table and fumbles for the alarm clock. Not here, not here, not there either? Where is it? 

He sits up in the bed and lets out a loud yawn, running his fingers through messy hair, and cracks open his eyes a smidge. To his confusion, his alarm clock is not on his bedside table. As a matter of fact, that’s not his bedside table at all.

His alertness finally makes a belated return. Kaveh glances to the left — a messy workbench on the table, no miniature cardboard model of the Avidya Forest’s watchtowers. To his right is a simple closet, filled with clothes that he doesn’t recognise. This isn’t his room. This isn’t even his house.

Finally, Kaveh looks down at himself. He’s almost relieved when he sees that he’s still dressed, at least, but then immediately starts to panic when he realises that the shirt he is currently dressed in isn’t his.

So, he does the most logical thing that he can think of — he screams.

A few seconds pass before the door suddenly bursts open with a bang to reveal Jeanne standing in the doorway with a wooden spatula in one hand and a fucking revolver in the other. Kaveh very nearly screams again, this time in terror, but manages to swallow it down. “Where’s the assassin?” she asks bluntly, eyes rapidly scanning over the room.

“What? No, there’s no assassin.” Kaveh cowers back into the covers, staring at the barrel of the gun. “Why is that the first thing that you thought of?”

Jeanne blinks, giving the room one last cursory glance before she holsters the pistol at her belt. She’s dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a simple ruffled blouse — different from the clothes that she’d been wearing yesterday. “It has happened before,” she tells him matter-of-factly, as though she is talking about a morning coffee or a stray cat coming by her door. Kaveh gapes at her in disbelief. “If there is no assassin, what were you screaming about?”

Right, he’d forgotten about that — which isn’t really a surprise, with how much his head is pounding. He feels as though someone is playing whack a mole with his skull. “I, um,  didn’t recognise where I was and panicked for a moment.”

“Oh.” Jeanne gestures at the room that he’s in. “This is my house in Sumeru. I often travel back and forth between the two countries for work matters, which makes it more convenient for me to have my own residence here.”

That does explain where he is, but just… how did he get here in the first place? Kaveh tries to recall the events of the previous night. He’d gotten kicked out of the house by Al-Haitham, and the two of them had gone to Lambad’s Tavern to get drinks and discuss Arabella. The anise wine had run out, Jeanne had called for another drink, and then…

He can’t remember much after that, which can only mean one thing — he’d gotten very, very drunk. There are vague flashes — of seeing Lambad’s face and then staggering up Treasures Street, but aside from that, Kaveh has no recollection as to what had happened.

And he’s wearing a different shirt, one that isn’t his. It isn’t hard to put two and two together, a foregone conclusion. Oh. Oh. Dear Archons, did something happen last night? Did he do something last night?

“Jeanne,” Kaveh says with deliberate slowness, in an attempt to quell the rising panic in his chest. “Did anything happen last night that I’ve forgotten about?”

She’s checking behind the curtains of the room — is she still looking for the ‘assassin’? “Do you not recall what happened last night?” Yes! “We went out for drinks after we met.” 

He remembers that part with perfect clarity. It’s what happened after that he wants to know about. Did he… “No, I’m asking if I did something… inappropriate.”

Jeanne shakes her head at him and Kaveh sags with relief. “You do not need to worry,” she reassures him. “You didn’t get sick on me or my clothes.” The panic comes back immediately. That’s not what he was talking about!

Kaveh gestures at the shirt that he’s wearing, hands flapping like the wings of a mad bird. “No, I was talking about this.”

“Oh… you mean how you got into that shirt. Apologies, I’m a little slow on the uptake.” That’s not what he meant either! “You spilled some of the snake wine on your shirt. My brother, Otho, stays in this room occasionally when he passes through, so I changed you into one of his spare shirts since the two of you are of similar height and build. I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to let you sleep in a stained shirt.”

Archons above… Kaveh feels as though he’s the only one losing his mind over here. Not just that, he sounds insane! Finally, he gathers the courage to take a quick glance beneath the covers and nearly faints with relief when he sees his pants still on. And aside from his raging headache, nothing else feels amiss… So maybe nothing really did happen?

Jeanne looks at him for a moment longer, trying to figure out if she properly answered him, before she gives up and gestures to the low table next to the bed. “There is water and a hangover cure that Lambad told me to give to you. Do you think you can stomach some food?”

It takes Kaveh a moment to process that question. “Oh… yes.”

“That’s good. I’ve made enough breakfast for us both in the kitchen — I hope you like shakshuka. When you’re feeling ready to get up, there is an en-suite bathroom—” she gestures to an inconspicuous door worked into the wall on his right, “and a change of clothes inside which you can use. I also just got your shirt laundered this morning, so you could wear that too, if you’d like.”

This is a bit too much information for Kaveh to take in at once. All he manages is a single, awkward, “why?”

Jeanne just seems a little confused by his question. “Why? Oh, because the laundromat wasn’t open until earlier this morning. It would have been better to bring the shirt as quickly as possible, but fortunately they still managed to remove the stain.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He feels as though he has said that sentence too many times today. “I meant… Why did you do all that for me? We’ve only just met, after all.”

People rarely go out of their way for others unless there is some sort of benefit that they stand to gain from it. Kaveh wonders if Jeanne is expecting something in return for it. There is nothing that he can offer her, he’s sure of it. Which is why he is so hesitant to simply accept her hospitality.

But Jeanne’s answer surprises him. “Is this not the natural thing to do?” she asks, looking even more confused now. “When I brought you back to the house, Al-Haitham was already asleep and you didn’t have your keys on you,” — so that’s what he forgot! — “not to mention that it was already long past midnight. I didn’t want to trouble the innkeepers, so this was the most convenient place to bring you.”

All that sounds logical and all, but Kaveh still can’t imagine that someone would do all that for him. The only other person whose intentions have confused him so thoroughly is Al-Haitham, who until now refuses to tell Kaveh why he let him stay in his house. But unlike his roommate, Jeanne seems genuinely… oblivious to it. As though she really doesn’t have a hidden agenda to her kindness, and this is simply natural for her to do.

Still, this doesn’t make Kaveh feel any more comfortable about receiving her goodwill. He’s adding up the costs for the laundering in his head — it must have been expensive, if she received the clothes back on the same day — when Jeanne holds out a hand. “There is no need to pay me back,” she tells him firmly.

“But—”

“I insist. Consider it a favour, for being friends with my sister and listening to her woes.” Jeanne nods decisively, as if that has concluded the conversation, and moves to leave the room. “I give you some privacy to wash up and get changed. Come out for some breakfast once you’re done.”

The door shuts behind her with a click and Kaveh is left staring at it, a little lost and stupefied. So… nothing is expected of him. She doesn’t expect anything back from him. Huh. It’s an uncomfortable thought, but an unexpectedly… pleasant sort of discomfort. 

So he does what she told him to. Goes into the en-suite bathroom, sees the clean set of clothes laid out for him to wear. He takes a quick shower, splashes his face with cold water to wake himself up. After dressing in the clothes that Jeanne had left out for him, he heads back into the room and downs the hangover cure, chasing it down with water. A wooden cup instead of a glass one, he notices. 

A small detail, but Kaveh is an observant man. Despite being so stoic and difficult to read, Jeanne seems to be a surprisingly warm and considerate person. Another lesson to Kaveh, he supposes, in learning not to judge others by their looks.

He glances about the room. Jeanne had mentioned something about her brother staying there occasionally, and he sees bits and pieces of that. A man’s styling comb, a pair of cufflinks on the table. And for a place that is supposedly so unused, he can see little knick knacks and ornaments that Jeanne has chosen to decorate the space with that give it a cosy, almost homely kind of warmth.

Framed Kamera photos sit on the nightstand, and Kaveh recognises Jeanne in some of them. Most of them appear to be of Jeanne, Arabella and their siblings — another man, who Kaveh presumes to be their brother, Otho, and a younger, seemingly fiery woman. Kaveh doesn’t seem to spot either of her parents. 

Arabella is giving her biggest and brightest smile to the Kamera, but Jeanne is wearing her typical unsmiling, serious expression in all of the photos but one. The last photograph is a little less formal, a bit more candid, where all of Jeanne’s siblings are giving her a hug. From the looks of it, photograph-Jeanne is trying her best to maintain her usual expression, but there’s a distinctly pleased yet embarrassed look on her face.

It’s rather endearing, to be able to see this side of Jeanne. Kaveh finds himself staring at the photos for a while longer, thinking that it must be nice to have such a large family, when he hears Jeanne calling for him from outside.

When he emerges from the room, he sees Jeanna standing outside next to the table, dressed in the Fontainian suit that he’d seen the day before and her hair pinned up neatly underneath her hat. “Here is the shakshuka. I’ve never really cooked this dish for anyone else other than myself, but I hope you like it.” She removes the… clutch?... from an iron skillet to reveal a perfect dish underneath. Four perfectly poached eggs sit inside in a delicious mess of tomatoes and peppers. “I’ll need to be heading off for work soon.”

That’s very early. “It looks great,” Kaveh says as he moves to sit at the table. “Law enforcement?”

“Mm. I have some business with the matra today — now that Al-Haitham has approved the paperwork, I can finally collect the runaway noble and escort him back to Fontaine.”

“That’s great.” Kaveh is a little surprised by how disappointed he is to hear that she’ll be heading back so soon. 

“Al-Haitham was very prompt with the paperwork,” Jeanne nods, before placing a key with a familiar lion keychain on the table in front of him. Is that his… “While collecting the paperwork, I also picked up your key so you may return home whenever you wish. Treasures Street is relatively close, so you’ll be able to walk back easily after breakfast.” She takes a step back and nods. “Then, I hope to see you around soon, Kaveh. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Oh.” Kaveh glances up at Jeanne, surprised. “The shakshuka is a little too big for me to finish on my own… are you not going to eat with me?”

Jeanne pauses with one hand on the doorknob. In truth, she is already running a little late — bringing Kaveh’s keys back here and then cooking the shakshuka had caused her to run quite a bit behind schedule. If it had just been her, she would have just boiled some eggs or bought something from Puspa Cafe on the way to the Akademiya. 

Still, the hopeful look on Kaveh’s face is surprisingly difficult to reject. It’s like trying to convince herself to kick a puppy.

Eventually, she finds herself relenting — surprising even herself — and she takes a seat opposite Kaveh. “I’ll need to eat quickly.”

“That’s alright. Still, you should eat your fill to get ready for the day ahead.” Kaveh scoops out a good portion of the shakshuka and places it onto her plate. “Here you go.”

“Oh, let me get some for you too.”

“It’s alright, I can do it on my own.”

“I insist, really…”

Surprisingly, the conversation over breakfast flows easily — more easily than it did last night, at least. Kaveh asks Jeanne about the photographs that he’d seen in the spare room, and Jeanne had paused between bites to tell him more about her siblings. She had been adopted into the Fontainian noble family de la Roches while still a young girl, and had gotten three new siblings to live with. Arabella, the oldest, followed by Otho and Vivienne. 

Kaveh is already familiar with Arabella, so Jeanne tells him about her other siblings. “Otho is the next head of the de la Roches,” she says. “He’s a bit of a handful at the moment, but I can see why he’s acting out — anyone would with so much pressure placed on their shoulders. As for Vivienne…” Jeanne sighs at the thought of her younger sister. “She’s the fiery sort, but gets into trouble a little too often. Arabella often runs herself worrying over her. Still, she’s got a good heart.”

Kaveh, in return, tells Jeanne some of his anecdotes living with Al-Haitham — some of which make Jeanne crack what seems to be her version of a smile. “I think that I have heard some of these before,” she tells him. Kaveh stops mid-rant, surprised. “The Mahamatra — Cyno — has regaled me with humorous tales of a certain friend living with another acquaintance. He did not mention them by name, but now that I have met you, I am quite sure that he was speaking about you and Al-Haitham.”

The conversation flows smoothly, and it’s not long before the shakshuka has run out. After they put the dishes away, Jeanne picks up her bag once more. “I must really go now,” she says, but she doesn’t look upset, which makes Kaveh feel relieved. “I will not return for a while, so I wanted to tell you this… I’m not sure if it will make you uncomfortable, but you may stay here whenever you like.”

Kaveh stares at Jeanne again, this time even more shocked. To just offer access to your house to someone you’ve just met the night prior… surely things are moving too fast here?

“This house doesn’t see much use otherwise. Besides, my sister trusts you, and after meeting you, I also think that you are a person of solid character.” Jeanne nods as she looks at him. “ I might be emotionally oblivious, but I am adept at discerning the hearts of others.”

“But—”

“This way, you could return the clothes I lent you.”

Kaveh hesitates. “If you say so…”

He follows Jeanne to the door, where she shows him where the key to the front door is hidden — underneath a flower pot with a small, fat ball cactus. “A little obvious, don’t you think?”

Jeanne shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “The key is enchanted with a locking mechanism by an astrologist from Mondstadt. If someone without my approval tries to touch it, it dissolves into water instantly.”

“That’s… wow.” Imagine being able to use such magic and technology for designing parts of buildings! Stairs that could hold their shape but dissolve into water when no one is using them, doors that could turn to water instead of having to physically open them. “I’ll have to visit Mondstadt some day…”

Jeanne looks at him. “Then, I’ll be going now.” And just as she did the first time she had introduced herself to him, she takes his hand and presses a light kiss to the back of it. “I’ll see you around, Kaveh.”

And Kaveh’s heart still skips a beat, unsurprisingly. While the feelings that had spiked through him previously had been more of awkwardness and shock, now there is something… a little more shy and flustered in its place. Now that is something that takes him by surprise.

You’ve just met her, Kaveh scolds himself, horrified. Don’t be so easy, Kaveh!

But that doesn’t stop his cheeks from heating when her eyes meet his. Her eyes really are like aquamarine stones, clear and polished with honesty. “I hope we meet again soon, Jeanne.”

“We definitely will.” With that, Jeanne releases his hand and turns around. Kaveh watches as she disappears down the street and off into one of the many tunnels among the roots of the Divine Tree. Only when she has completely vanished from sight does Kaveh turn around and go back into the house.

>>>

Kaveh returns the next day with the clothes that Jeanne had loaned him, clean and laundered, but is disappointed to see that she has truly left. When he sets the clothes down, however, he sees something on the table that wasn’t there yesterday — a jar of snake wine with a handwritten  note pinned underneath it.

Headed back to Fontaine. Enjoy, but in moderation, of course — Jeanne de la Roche

Despite himself, Kaveh finds himself smiling. The next time she visits Sumeru, he’ll make sure that he has something to share with her in return as well.

[oh-three]

TBB S3E1:

NO, NOT THE RECAP OPENING WITH TECH'S FALL 😭

Almost crying from just the recap, it's so emotional looking back on all the heartbreak that happened last season.

They put so much effort into that recap and it shows.

Ayy, the intro's still the same.

It would be so funny if this stormtrooper crashed.

Called it 😂

Hah, the wildlife is what's getting 'em. This shouldn't be so funny to me, but I'm in a very good mood right now.

Well, that's a pretty cell.

Yeah, no, Emerie is definitely a clone. Would've been able to guess it by her accent if they hadn't already revealed it.

Crosshair

Something, something, Omega acting as a medical assistant just like she had on Kamino.

Blood? In Star Wars?? 👀 (jk)

Somehow, the animation got even better between this season and the last. Didn't realize that was even possible.

Nala Se still looking out for Omega, despite everything. Going as far as to discard her blood sample. Maybe she really is to her what Boba was to Jango.

Ayo, hello again, Scorch. You really are Hemlock's favorite guy, aren't you? He's shown up in every season!

Getting dog shelter vibes rn ngl.

Oh my god, she's named one. It's these little acts of rebellion that mean the most to me tbh 😭

All those poor clones 😭

THE CROSSHAIR AND OMEGA SCENE

Something, something, the way all the bite's left Crosshair and he's just resigned to his fate 😭

SHE MADE STRAW A STRAW LULA 😭

Noooo, her hair's long enough to put back now, HOW LONG WAS THE TIME SKIP.

I'm actually starting to like Nala Se.

DON'T TERMINATE BATCHER.

Something, something, Omega telling Crosshair about her day even though they hardly know one another 😭

"Forget me." / "Don't risk anything for me. I belong in here." Crosshairrrrr 😭

"Personal items are forbidden." Fucking ouch. Give Lula 2.0 back.

Nala Se's voice really is a lot softer than it used to be, isn't it?

DON'T TERMINATE BATCHER!!

Oh fuck, okay.

OMEGA, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT. IT ALREADY CALLED FOR BACKUP.

Be free, Batcher! ❤

FUCK, okay. I didn't expect Hemlock himself to head down there.

YO, OKAY. I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING. THREATENING CROSSHAIR FOR OMEGA'S COMPLIANCE TO KEEP NALA SE'S COMPLIANCE. Leave my Batchers alone, man.

Ayyy, Emerie brought straw Lula back!

Lmaooo, Batcher found the crashed shuttle.

ONE EPISODE DOWN.

[thesouppond]

Missed yesterday's update but we're up to chapter 11 now and mostly through linework for the first prologue comic!

- Val/entina and Kazu teasing each other is so cute 🥺🥺🥺 I am shogun sniper trash and I will go down with this shippppp

- Cammie is insanely well written. How she has very childlike tendencies but she acts very maturely. It's all balanced beautifully

- Every time we get a small reminder that Chase doesn't have a physical body I just wanna hug the man.

- The party scenes are amazing. Esp cause it's prime shogun sniper content

- XPNSV being a fuckin queer icon. 'Darling, I don't do anything straight' I fuckin wheezed. I do love that Gen:lock canonically gave us another queer nb/trans character. I hate that XPNSV only showed up here and we didn't get to see more hacking shenanigans with Cammie outside of storm warning.

- I cannot say Aris webb without using Cammie's accent now.

- Yaz and Val/entina talking about growing up and having been involved in fighting from an early age 🥺🥺🥺 I wanna hug the blorbos

- Also this made me Google what a samovar was. It certainly is interesting how Persian and Russian cultures ended up mixing.

- I want to try tea with jam now.

- Yaz really doesn't get a lot of focus in this book. I think she's the character we get the least perspective from. We really need more Yaz content.

- Val/entina backing Cammie up ayy. Kazu and Val looking out for her like a lil sister makes me so happy.

- Also Migas and Cammie geeking out over coding and schematics with Caliban being a shit in the background is awesome.

- We were absolutely robbed of the chance to see the code weapons visually. They sound cool as fuck.

- The only gripe I have with this book honestly is that Cammie's able to access mindshare and the holon systems without being uploaded in her pod, which I don't think is canonically possible but we'll just gloss over that.

- Knowing the plot twist that happens makes every small detail slip into place and god this is beautifully written.

- I know book 2 was confirmed at some stage but evidently it's been canned after RT fucked themselves but goddamn we were robbed. I wish we could have more of this. Melissa Scott, hats off to you, this is incredibly well done.

[kaitokrush]

My heart is chained to yours; a Junkrat and Roadhog fanfiction

Chapter 5

Preview

"Oh Junkenstein-"

“AH!!!”

Flinging my arms in the air, I accidentally spill punch on the grey carpet.

“Aw fuck, hey Witch, make a damn noise next time so I don’t end up staining the carpet.”

Leaning down to clean the carpet, Witch stops me.

“Doesn’t matter, there's someone I’m excited for you to meet.”

Gesturing behind herself, a black woman with glowing orange sunshine skin leans forward with her hands behind her back. We all stare in silence, unsure if anything is supposed to happen. Annoyed, Witch nudges the girl with her elbow.

“Come on Sunflower, introduce yourself.”

The girl sits up straight, her bright blue eyes wide.

“Oh, I thought you were introducing me.”

“Well you thought wrong, come on you’re a big girl. Can’t possibly be that challenging, roight?”

Chuckling as she covers her mouth, the girl shoves Witch’s head with ease as she’s about taller than Witch but shorter than me.

“Ayy alright, alright hahaha. My name is Sunflower, I’m from London and have been living with Witch for… a few months? Yeah.”

“Ohhh London Ohio or London Ontario?”

Everyone stares at me with their mouths agape. Except Mako, he has a mask on. Dumbfounded Sunflower pushes her long wavey hair back, dyed orange on the top of her head and changing to purple halfway down.

“U-um, London England?”

“OOOOOOOHHHHHHH FUCK MATE!!!”

“Haha well, I guess that's an easy mistake to make.”

Slowly her eyes look at my costume up and down, as if to take her time pondering.

“Are you…a veterinarian?”

“Oh what, Mako here is my big green mutt?”

Pointing my thumb behind me to Mako, it catches him a bit off guard as he holds two plates of party snacks.

“Hm? What are you guys talking about?”

Mako focuses his attention on the conversation as he hands me a plate of food. The purple paper plate has a row of crackers along the edge with cheese and meat to complete the circle. In the center, there is a pile of pretzel sticks and a green vanilla cupcake. Instantly Mako takes the treat from my hand and sets it back down on the plate.

“Come on Jamison, you’re gonna be drinking your face off so eat smartly.”

“Siiiigh, ok mate. But only cause it’s you saying it.”

Now available on AO3 + Wattpad

[howisjoostfanfictionforfree]

Stop Sending Me Fruit Pics

Joost Klein x reader fanfic 18+ MDNI | RPF!!!

Joost hears something you don’t exactly want him to...

Reader: established relationship, f!reader, tried not to be too descriptive with physical characteristics but I’m sure I slipped up somewhere

CW: 18+ NSFW, RPF, smut, consensual but consent is not explicitly stated so be warned if you care about that, kind of rough, unprotected piv, cream pie, filthy onomatopoeia, cringe dialogue?

Words: ~1,900. Just a lil blurb. 

A/N: Ayy you know when sometimes you’re so wet you realize you can hear your pussy makin’ little *schlick-smack* noises when you walk? No? Just me? Dang. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

No I did NOT listen to WAP when I was writing this…

🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌🥝 🍌🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌 🥝 🍌

You just got home. 

You had been at Tantu’s all day with Joost and you had been so worked up the whole time. You tried to play it cool, keeping to yourself on the beanbag in the corner while they worked, pretending you weren’t thinking about choking on that dick. 

Sometimes you think the fact that you don’t have a dick makes you a little too bold. Since you don’t have to worry about boners there is literally nothing to stop you from having wild fantasies in public and you rarely fail to take advantage of this. There have never been consequences so far, you’ve never been rendered unable to act normal when people engage with you. Still, you wonder if one day you’ll slip up and say something like ‘oh hey, how’s it boning?’. The possibility hasn’t stopped you yet. 

You sit there all afternoon thinking fairly depraved thoughts with no one the wiser and try to look busy on your laptop while discreetly watching Joost work.

When evening rolls around they decide they are done for the day and you are happy to see there is no wet spot on the upholstery when you get up. You gather your things and say your goodbyes. Then, as you’re heading out the door, you realize you can hear something strange. There is a little *schlick* with each step. Schlick...schlick… Oh. That is definitely your pussy. Guess you got a little carried away. It seems quiet enough that no one will put two and two together though. You just hope if Joost does notice something he will chalk it up to the bouncing click of a zipper or the back and forth of the synthetic material of your coat. You resolve to change your underwear as soon as you’re home. 

You’ve arrived and you’re taking off your shoes by the door when you look over and see Joost’s brow furrowed, looking at you curiously. Fuck. You’re not sure when it caught his attention but it has now and you try to walk into the living room slowly to dampen the sound. Maybe you can keep him from zeroing in on it. He puts down his bag and slowly pads after you. 

You’re halfway through the main space now. Act casual, act casual. The bedroom door is right there. Be cool, be cool. You look behind you to see if he’s still following and happen to catch the moment it clicks for him because his eyes go wide.

FUCK

His strides are swift as he bridges the gap between you and grabs your wrists when you turn and try to backpedal, palms raised in defense. He’s got a disbelieving look on his face and it’s turning into a shit-eating grin.

“Are you….wet?” 

“No, definitely not.”  You don’t even know why you’re lying. It’s not like you’re not super down to get it on. You’ve been lusting after him since this morning. Just, something about arousal to the point of being audible is embarrassing. What did that one guy in the vine say to his mom when she was making mac ’n cheese?

“I think you’re lying schatje.”

He spins you around and bends you over the arm of the couch before you can think of an excuse.

“Joost! Come on!”

You try to stand up but he has a hand on your back and his other one immediately works to shimmy your pants down. 

“Dude!”

He’s ignoring you. As soon as he’s got them down far enough he presses his fingers to your panties and swears violently at how obviously little they are doing to contain the situation. You suck in a breath. The gig is up. He rips them down to join your jeans and you can feel the string that connects them to your pussy break and stick to your thigh. God. He brings his hand back up quickly and dips his fingers in. He runs them through your folds and huffs out a laugh in awe.

“Joooost” you whine. You can’t believe he’s laughing at you.

“Schatje, what has you so fucking wrecked?”

“Shut upppppp” You groan.

“Is this all for me? You’re so wet I can’t believe it.” 

It is in fact all for him but your tongue is now stuck to the roof of your mouth with the way he starts tracing around your clit. He teases little circles around it. Not right where you need him but close enough to keep you arching into his hold. His huge hand on your back feels like a brand. 

“Aww that’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

You do your best to make an indignant noise into the cushions.

Continuing his investigation he drags the tips down to your entrance and teases around it lightly. You squirm a bit, it almost tickles, but his pin is firm. Suddenly he drives two fingers in to the knuckle and you choke. It makes the most filthy squelch. He pumps them in and out a few times slowly, repeating the noise. 

“My god schatje”

Your face is on fucking fire.

You want to make some quip, tell him if he doesn’t like it he can stick his damn fingers somewhere else, but you know that it isn’t an actual criticism. No, not with the way he is deliberately plunging his fingers to get the loudest possible *smack-slurp*. Not with the way he’s withdrawing every few pumps to run his drenched fingers through your folds, making equally obscene noises. It feels good but you can tell his entire focus is on reveling in the sheer quantity of your arousal rather than actually driving you higher. You start chasing his fingers, rocking back into his touch.

Then, just as suddenly, he whips his fingers back out, undoes his belt, rips down his pants, lines up, and sinks in in one go.

You scream.

Not in pain, but at the intensity of sensation. Things never usually move this fast. You were already so turned on that it felt perfect though. You have no idea if he’s saying anything to you because you white out for a moment. He holds there as deep as possible for a few beats, letting you adjust, but he can't help himself and soon he pulls back and starts building a rhythm. 

“Mmmmmmnn, baby, you feel so good. Were you waiting for me today?”

“Oh my god oh my godohmygodohmygod” You don’t know why he thinks you can talk right now.

Having done the bare minimum to not absolutely murder your cervix he begins picking up the pace. Soon he is jackhammering you into the couch as you scrabble for purchase on frustratingly smooth cushions. You can feel yourself dripping down his balls as they slap against you. The noises are worse than ever. The endless *slap-slap-schlap-shlup* is doing something to your brain.

Your hurtle towards orgasm alarmingly quickly. As soon as he reaches around to massage at your neglected clit you can’t even choke out a warning before your eyes roll back and you’re spasming around him in wild pulses. You whimper his name over and over in a way you will probably find embarrassing later.

At the feeling he grips your hips that much tighter, thrusting savagely as his gasps gain a breathy quality. Just as you start to go boneless he hooks an arm around you, pulling you back up into his chest before you can face plant, making your back arch sharply as he slams home and stays deep, spilling inside of you.

“Ohh fuuuckk....Schatje!”

You’re not sure you can actually feel his cum but there is some sort of twinge of warmth and it has you twitching around him once more. He groans at the feeling and bucks into you again lightly, teeth coming to gently press into your neck. You whimper and let yourself soak in the feeling of him in and around you. The weight of him still inside you and his bruising grip holding you so sweetly. 

After a minute he removes his teeth and brushes his lips over the spot. He kisses over your shoulders, gradually letting you both come down. Eventually he loosens his hold, releasing you from the somewhat contortionist pose. Once you’ve got your hands on solid couch again he pulls out slowly. Immediately his cum runs down your legs and you can’t help but let out another little noise. You try to close your legs to stop it but he grabs your thighs and holds them open, leaning back to watch. One of his thumbs moves to spread you open just a little, admiring his work. He gives a happy little sigh.

“Jooooost” You complain, but you really don’t have it in you to stop him.

He groans and pulls away finally, taking off his own shirt. He wipes up your thighs gently. When he’s done he wraps his arms around you and drags you up into a hug, your back pressed against his chest. He kisses at your temple a few times and then turns you around so he can finally kiss your mouth. You sigh heavily in his arms. As nice as it is to get dicked down you had missed his mouth. You always crave his kiss. You feel your strength returning and you bring your arms up around his neck so you can deepen it. You make out languidly for a few minutes but you are tired. All of that kind of made your back hurt. When you part from his mouth he is looking at you appreciatively.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “I know it was kinda fast. I could’t help it, I had to feel your pussy.”

“Yeah, that was really hot, even if it was kind of embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing that you were so wet I could hear it?” He leers at you.

You look away, shy all over again. He chuckles and kisses over your face.

“What made you so wet schatje, hmm? I still want to know. What is there to think about in the studio?”

You bury your face in his shoulder now, groaning.

“Come on babyyyy what has you so hot that I could hear it?”

“Hhhhhh…..the fruit.” You finally mumble into his skin. You still can’t look at him.

“Hah? The fruit? Oh!! Really?” 

You remember the moment you received the selfie with the kiwi. He had left for the studio earlier than you. Later, when you were on your way to join him, he sent you a picture of his snack with the words ‘babe my cum is gonna taste so good’. A few minutes after that you received another one with a banana. You sent a simple tongue emoji in return. Your relationship was no stranger to sexting but something about this made you blush. You spent the whole train ride to the studio flipping through your mental catalogue of the many times you had blown him. The weight of him on your tongue and the feeling of him in your throat. When was the last time he actually finished in your mouth? Oral always turned into fucking. God you want him to come down your throat. By the time you made it to the studio you were feeling more than a little warm.

“Yesss fuck you it was hot okay”

“Ohh? Do you wish we did something else? I can give you a taste next time kay?” 

You can feel his grin pressed to your ear. You sigh as dramatically as you can manage. 

“Okay, I guess I can wait.” 

You pull back to look at him.

“In the mean time, we do have blueberries in the fridge.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Cues door de Kirk* ~chap die poenie als bosbessen!!! 🫐✨

But like, the other way around,

eh you get it

[latenightsimping]

Damage, Inc.

Summary: You buy tickets for a Metallica concert, and you and Eddie enjoy the music together while you contemplate how happy he makes you. 

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Words: 1,234 (ayy nice)

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, mentions of trauma, mentions of nightmares, mentions of bullying/harassment, canon-divergent fanfic, drug and alcohol usage, not spoiler free (not sure about this tag but it alludes to stuff so i’ll tag it just in case), not beta read, they say i love you a lot but call it a stylistic thing rather than me no write good

AN: This one I like to call ‘fuck you Duffer brothers I’m giving our boy a happy ending’. In my head we get to the end of the show and he graduates and lives his life touring the USA going to gigs. It’s my breakdown and I get to choose the fanfic ending that pleases me. Anyway! Hope you enjoy this one. I’m cranking these out instead of what I should be doing, which is working on my other fics. But to heck with it, I’m having a lot of fun. Hope you enjoy!

The money spent had been completely worth it, just to see the look of awe on Eddie’s face in this moment.

You’d surprised him with concert tickets as a graduation present, after squirrelling away as much cash as you possibly could from your shitty part time job. You never forgot how wide his eyes got as he thumbed the stubs, shaking his head slowly as he looked up at you with his jaw agape.

��B-babe, are these real?” he asked in a small voice, as if at any moment you would get up, pointing and laughing at how he’d been fooled so easily.

You nodded with a grin, biting your lip at you watched his face practically beam with glee. “Hope so, the amount I paid for them. Me and you, Metallica, next year. It’s a bit of a road trip, so I thought we could get a motel and-”

A squeal was ripped from your lips as he jumped up from his place on the couch next to you, picking you up with him and spinning you around as your feet swung out. You descended into giggles that were muffled by his lips as he pushed a bruising kiss to your own, clinging onto him for dear life as he dipped you low.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” he murmured as he set you back on your feet, arms still tightly around your waist as he rested his forehead on yours. You could see the small shimmer of tears in his eyes as he spoke, dipping his head to press soft kisses to your neck to hide them. “You’re my angel.”

You carded your fingers through his hair as you made him face you, palms coming to rest on his cheeks as the pads of your thumbs brushed gently under his eyes. It hadn’t passed you by, just how stressed he had been over the past months. Having to face untold horrors that you only knew small parts of, being labelled a murderer and a cult leader, only for his name to be cleared but the stain on his already tarnished reputation still remaining. The nightmares that wracked his body at night, making him scream until he run out of air and body scrambling to get away from something that was as real as anything in his mind. A joint was pretty much stuck between his lips all day and night, puffing on it like a chimney and rubbing shaky hands under dark rimmed eyes from the lack of sleep.

But somehow, by the grace of whoever was up there, he had still managed to graduate. Flipping the bird at Higgins with the smuggest smirk he could muster, grabbing the diploma out of the shocked man’s hand and running like his life depended on it with your hand firmly in his after he grabbed you from the side lines. Whatever Eddie did next, you honestly couldn’t care. He could deal weed out the back of his van for the rest of his life for all you cared; the fact that he’d managed to succeed at something that had haunted him for years was worth more than gold.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered to him as your eyes flittered over his features; over the brown doe eyes that looked at you with adoration, to the broad nose and soft lips that always tasted like cigarettes and candy. You let your thumbs swoop over his cheekbones, and your heart fluttered at the way he practically melted into your hands.

His fingers stroked your lower back, a lover’s caress that he always did when he held you like this. His eyes crinkling at the corners as he nuzzled your nose. “Love you more, baby.”

~

Gareth, Jeff and a couple more of Eddie’s buddies had also manage to snag tickets, and you all agreed to do the road trip together. It was a couple of hours away, and you had your feet up on the dash with Eddie’s hand on your thigh as you nodded your head to “Battery.” The earthy smell of weed was hazing your mind, and you practically pleaded to the Lord above the cops wouldn’t pull the van over to find a bunch of stoners drinking beers. Someone had tried to hand Eddie the joint, only for your hands to pluck it away and scowl a little at your boyfriend who was giving you raised eyebrows. “Eyes on the road, Munson,” you said as you exhaled smoke. “You can get blasted in the parking lot before we go in, when we get there safe and sound.”

After a few joints and one more beer you had entered the packed arena. The sheer amount of people meant that you barely had room to stand, but your little group had managed to get good spots near the front as you sang and danced along to the tracks. Eddie was behind you, arm near constantly around your waist as his free hand flew up to make the devil horns hand gesture. His long hair flew back and forth as he headbanged along to the beat, and you couldn’t help but look up and notice just how overcome with delight he truly was. In this crowd, he was just a fan of the band. Another long haired, leather wearing rocker with ripped jeans and a battle jacket. He wasn’t a freak, or a cult leader, a murderer or weirdo. He was amongst like-minded people, not someone to mess with or poke fun at. Nobody here would spray paint names on his van or beat him up just because he dressed differently. Here, they might buy him a beer and get to know him. Get to know how kind he was, how caring, charming, charismatic and funny. They’d get to know the Eddie that you’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

You leaned back in his grasp as they announced their next song, head leaning on his shoulder as you put your hand over the one he had on your stomach. Feeling the cold metal of his rings, anchoring you in the otherwise tidal wave of emotions you felt. You turned your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek, grinning as you nuzzled your head into his neck. You felt him return one to your forehead, still singing along as he rocked your bodies to the beat.

This was all you ever wanted in life. Feeling anonymous in a sea of people, with your high school sweetheart right beside you and surrounded by your friends. No judging stares, or mutters of derision under people’s breaths. You and Eddie had talked about the future; getting in the van and leaving Hawkins in the dust as you found a new home in a random city. You could throw a dart at a map of the USA and settle there for all you cared. For now it was just something to whisper about in the dark of night as you shared a joint, but the hope that it sparked in you was enough to fuel you.

“Love you angel,” came his low voice in his ear, sealing his declaration of love with a kiss to your neck.

You grinned as you brought a hand up to the back of his neck, resting it there as you closed you eyes to enjoy the music.

“Love you too, Eddie.”

[agomeangelcat]

Isekai Reader(Y/N) X Trigun Stampede Troupe: SING!!!

🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

-Silence on the way, too much silence, until a certain group member runs in front of everyone-

Y/N:Ayy, ayy, Ayy Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Y/N: Then you're left in the dust Unless I stuck by ya, You're the sunflower I think your love would be too much Or you'll be left in the dustUnless I stuck by ya You're the sunflower You're the sunflower...

-Wolfwood is the first to grumble, Meryl smiles knowing it was too quiet without a new song-

-For Y/N they note how this song somehow suits Vash, bless the Sunflower.-

__🎶__

Y/N:What color is the sky!?  AY, mi amor!  Ay mi amor!  You tell me that it's red -Wolfwood gives a shout throwing his free hand up of course it was too quiet!!!-

Wolfwood: fucking hell!!!

Y/N: ¡Ay, mi amor!  Ay, mi amor! Where should I put my shoes!?

Wolfwood: ON YOUR ASS!! 

Vash/Meryl: Wolfwood!

Y/N: ¡Ay, mi amor!  Ay, mi amor! You say put them on your head ¡Ay, mi amor!  Ay, mi amor!

-Y/N stops in front of Wolfwood pretending to play a guitar Vash and Meryl were trying to keep a serious expression, But Vash was the first to break it-

-Y/N puts their hands together looking at Wolfwood and touching the brunette's chest, and he tries to push them away!-

Y/N: You make me, Un poco loco Un poquititito loco-

-Sound of Punisher being loaded-

Vash: WOLFWOOD NO!

__���__

-Y/N who just cheated in the game against some thugs at the bar and got a black eye and bloody nose-

Y/N: How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just doing what comes naturally...

Vash: you got a bleeding nose-

Y/N: How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just following my destiny How ba-a-a-ad can I be? 

Meryl: you cried for an hour-

Y/N: I'm just doing what comes naturally~

Wolfwood: You nearly died-

Y/N: How ba-a-a-ad can I be? How bad can I possibly be? -cries-

__🎶__

-It was dawn and Y/N was sitting between Vash and Wolfwood looking at the two man they smile!-

Y/N: MmMm, So this is love -They sing softly- Mm So this is love, So this is what makes life divine

-Wolfwood makes a tch sound on his sleep- Y/N: I'm all aglow, mm, and now I know, the key to all heaven is mine...

-Vash smiles with his eyes closed still in a soft sleep- Y/N: My heart has wings, mm, and I can fly....

-leaning their head on Vash's shoulder and holding Wolfwood's arm-

Y/N: I'll touch every star in the sky, So this is the miracle, That I've been dreaming of...So this is love.

🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

I need sleep.

Songs: Sunflower (feat. Swae Lee), How Bad Can I Be?-Lorax Ed Helms, Un poco loco- Coco, Cinderella - So This Is Love.

[knoxvillesjackass]

rose-coloured boy - c.p

𝑐ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

words; 980

Y/N sighed as the sound of Chris' laughter echoed through the room.

She'd been listening to it for 15 minutes, and she'd spent every second holding herself back from screaming at him. Her black hoodie hid her face and her weary, glossy eyes, which she always tried to hide from everyone. Attention was the last thing she wanted, especially from the guys. They cared so much about her. Not only was she Ryan's little sister, but she was also all of the guys' best friends. The glue to the crew, as they always said. The secret weapon of Jackass. 

Y/N was on set with her brother that day because she had nothing else to do. There was about a thirty-minute break for lunch, and Y/N had settled down on the couch, with her eyes glued to her phone. The guys were drinking beers and eating their lunch, all gathered around the dining table. Y/N enjoyed her quiet spot, away from all the laughter and chaos.

Chris' loud laughter boomed across the room. Y/N lifted her head. She rolled her eyes at his grin as he proceeded to tell a joke to Dave, who laughed out loud.

 How could anyone possibly be that happy? 

Chris was never angry, not even when he was drunk. In Y/N's eyes, he was a disgustingly cheerful person, and it made her sick. Maybe it was because she envied his ability to be happy without constantly worrying about people's opinions, or perhaps, she just for once wanted to see someone in her position. 

"Y/N! You need to check this out!" Bam yelled from across the room as he stood by an arcade machine, playing a game of Pac-Man. "I'll pass," She spoke, looking up shortly before returning her gaze down to her lap again. 

She didn't want to come off as rude. That was never her intention, but the feeling of constantly being held down by a cloud of darkness was not a feeling she could push away herself. The guys already knew of this, and each one had tried their best to help, especially Ryan. He was so worried for his sister. The girl, he'd helped raise wasn't happy, and even worse, he couldn't help her.

There were times when she was happy, but everyone around her very well knew that it would be a short-lived affair before she'd eventually slither back into her cave of sadness. 

"You okay, kiddo?" Ryan asked as he sat down beside her, giving her a kind smile. Y/N lifted her head and nodded at her older brother, a fake smile coated upon her lips. Ryan knew that her smile wasn't genuine, but he also knew that he'd get nowhere if he tried to talk to her about it. 

"Ayy, Y/N!" Chris laughed as he playfully flicked a piece of crumbled-up paper at her. Y/N glared at Chris and sighed as she threw the piece of paper back at Chris a little harsher than anticipated.

"Stupid rose-coloured boy," Y/N whispered under her breath.

"Come on!" Chris laughed as he flicked another crumble of paper at Y/N, viewing it all as a game, while Y/N, on the other hand, tried to keep her temper under control. "Chris," Ryan spoke in a warning tone as he stood up from the couch. Y/N glared up at Chris, who caught her angry stare. "What? Just smile a bit!" Chris exclaimed.

Oh, the fucking nerve.

Y/N took one last angry look at him before standing up from the couch and storming out of the room.

"Pontius, what the fuck?" She heard Ryan exclaim before she stormed outside of the big building, and out onto the parking lot.

Y/N sat on the curb as she tried to light a cigarette, but her lighter didn't work. She threw the cigarette over her shoulder angrily and looked down into the ground, sighing.

"Here," 

Y/N lifted her head at the all too familiar voice and breathed heavily. "What do you want?" She asked tiredly. 

"It's bad for nature," Chris smiled as he handed Y/N the cigarette she'd just thrown away. Y/N rolled her eyes. "Was that all?" She asked.

"I came to say sorry. I was being a dick in there. So- I'm sorry," Chris smiled as he sat down beside Y/N.

That stupid fucking smile

"I-I just really wanna be alone right now, Chris," Y/N spoke, sighing loudly.

"You always want to be alone. Why can't you just talk to someone?" Chris asked. Y/N chuckled. "If it were that fucking easy, I'd be fixed by now, wouldn't I?" Y/N spat. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean it like tha-"

"I'm sure you didn't. But you don't understand what I'm going through, so just leave me the hell alo-"

"Then explain to me how you feel, please!" Chris begged Y/N.

"I'm a lost cause," Y/N mumbled sadly.

"You are not a lost cause, Y/N," Chris shook his head, smiling. 

"Just stop insisting that I'm not a lost cause, 'cause I've been through a lot," Y/N shook her head, annoyed at Chris' inability to understand her.

"Just look on the bright side! I mea-"

"That's just the fucking point! There is no 'bright side' for me to look at!" Y/N huffed, standing up from the pavement. Chris followed soon after.

"You'll see a light soon. I know it. And I'll gladly help you look for it. But for now, I have a snake to get bitten by," Chris smiled. Y/N's heart warmed at Chris' words, feeling strangely optimistic and lifted by his speech.

"Here," Steven smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a red lollipop. Y/N grimaced as Chris grabbed her wrist and placed the lollipop in her hand. "Smoking is bad for you," he smiled, winking at Y/N before disappearing back into the concert hall, leaving Y/N flustered and confused.

[h0rny-postings]

What places will dbd survivors choose to have sex? specifically jake, dwight or quentin

[Ayy, first request, let’s go boys]

Imagine: Places Dwight, Quentin, and Jake would have sex

Dwight

The Campfire

Dwight is about surviving the trials with as little damage as possible. He’s too worried about being distracted and not noticing the killer approaching or being too loud and alerting the killer(the worst thing to him would be a case of blue balls followed immediately by a hook going through his shoulder). Because of this, the only real place he feels safe enough to be intimate with you is in the presence of the campfire between trials.

Well, not in its exact presence. Privacy is still something he cherishes even in the desolate hell scape.

It probably would have taken him a while to feel comfortable enough to initiate anything with you in the first place. You guys would have held hands, kissed, made out a little, but the stress, worry and presence of other survivors ultimately made him back off every time things started to get a little heated.

It was eventually after a particularly bad trial that things would have went further. His adrenaline still running high, stress through the roof, and frustration like you’ve never seen before pouring from him as he cursed the place and he was stuck in and the entity that put him there.

He needed the relief of you, and so when (mostly)everyone had fallen asleep sometime later, he got up and dragged you far enough away to not worry about intruders while still being close enough to always see the light of the fire.

Sorry to say, but that first time with you would have been fast and clumsy; he was still so frustrated, but used it to take you at a quick and short pace. Not that it mattered, you were both so touch starved(for the good kind of touch, not the one that drags you to another hook) that you both came in an embarrassingly short amount of time. After you regain your breath, he leads you back to the fire to await the next trial. His hand never left yours.

Not to fret, after he realized that you both can actually have some form of privacy in the fog in between trials, his sessions with you become more frequent and last longer. Dwight knows how to cherish the little things, after all.

Jake

The Macmillan Estate

This one might be a little weird. It’s a little weird to him too if he lets himself stop to think about. That’s why he doesn’t let himself think about it.

Jake is ultimately most comfortable in heavily wooded areas. They’re what remind him of home and they’re the easiest place for him to slip into the shadows and remain practically unseen until all the generators are fixed. It was when a trial was going by slowly and he realized just how much time he was really getting to himself that he started to formulate his plan to get you there with him too.

Not that it took much planning. But it did take patience. It was impossible to know where they’d end up when the fog took them to their next trial, and who they’d end up with. He got through a few different trials before he finally ended up in the Macmillan Estate with you on his team. He would have wasted no time in finding you, grabbing your hand and dragging you to a more secluded part of the forest, hidden by trees.

He wouldn’t explain, but you caught on pretty quickly when he’d start kissing you and undressing you(not all the way because you guys still need to be able to make a quick getaway if need be). He’d loosen you with his fingers first while you made out. Again, because time is short, he’d only prep you as much as he needed for him to slide in without hurting you too much.

It felt great. All the running and pain and fearing for your life almost(almost) seemed worth it just to feel his length warm and solid inside you. It was even better when he started moving.

He couldn’t fuck you too roughly for fear that the killer would hear but he did give you long measured thrusts. Every fifth or so thrust into you would be shoved back in so quick and hard, it would leave you gasping and seeing stars, tightening around him and making him grunt in pleasure. He’d then return back to his normal slow ones and get you down from that high again.

You both come after just a few minutes, the very real threat of a killer nearby always in the back of you mind, but it turns out to become a regular occurrence every time you guys are in The Trapper’s realm together. Just seeing the familiar landscape of the Macmillan Estate usually left you horny and wanting. Jake was always more than happy to provide.

Quentin

Inside a locker

(Quick disclaimer: I was unsure if I was gonna write this since Quentin is underage in the story but decided to go for it and age him up. So as a rule of thumb here on out, any characters in dbd that are underage are going to be aged up to at least 20. Still a little on the fence about Nancy and Steve though.)

Alright now hear me out for this one.

It was just an accident at first, you were running from a killer but they were hot on your tail and you knew you wouldn’t have that much time before they caught up. That’s when you spotted a locker nearby and threw open its doors to hide, not realizing that Quentin was already in there, looking as equally shocked as you.

Neither of you really got a word in before you heard the heavy thuds of the killer approaching you. Surprisingly, Quentin simply grabbed your arm and pulled you in with him. It was really too small to fit you both comfortably and you both were pressed against each other awkwardly. Somehow, you ended up with your front pressed against the back of the locker doors and Quentin behind you. When the killer came around, and you were both forced to stay as still as possible, you became increasingly aware of his solid presence behind you, one long line of heat and tension. He was letting out long and steady breathes that you felt hit the back of your neck and made you shiver. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but with you two pressed together as you were, you knew he did.

When the killer eventually left and you could breath a sigh of relief, you subconsciously leaned back into Quentin, who froze in place. All you could hear was yours and his own breathing and technically speaking, there was nothing stopping you from getting out of the locker now. It was very cramped after all. But, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. And neither could Quentin, apparently.

Somehow, his hand found it’s way to your thigh, and you didn’t move it. It simply moved up and down at first before making a trek to the front of your pants. It hovered there, like he was still testing the waters, but when you made no move to halt it, he began to slowly grope and fondle you. It felt like he was just mapping out the feel of you first and eventually he got more confident. His lips found a place on the back of your neck while he continued his exploratory journey of your crotch. When did his hand get inside your pants? You wouldn’t be able to tell.

Unfortunately there wouldn’t be enough room for him to do much more than finger you, which is still a challenge he took wholeheartedly, while you made small grinds into his clothed but hard length behind you. Neither of you were keen to make much noise so you had to stifle your moans by bitting your hand while his teeth found purchase in your neck and shoulders, effectively marking those areas.

His fingers work wonders inside you, stretching and hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your legs shake. It wouldn’t be long until you felt yourself nearing that edge and your orgasm would wash over you like a wave. Distantly, you could feel him make a few more thrusts against your ass before he too shuddered and came. You both stayed in the locker for a while before braving going out again.

It didn’t become a super regular occurrence(there were a lot better places to be intimate), but every so often, you’d see Quentin go into a locker with a look towards you that you understood and you knew you were about to have the ride of your life.

[dameferre]

#10 with zukka if youd like <333

whoo boy okay fair warning to everyone, most of my top 20 songs are from my sleep playlist so they're very slow, but this one just happens to be

It's not Suki's fault.

He really likes Suki.

It could be worse; Sokka could be dating someone Zuko hated, who took up all of Sokka's time so Zuko never got to see him. Someone that treated Sokka like shit, or made him feel lesser than. Suki's really good for Sokka- they're really good for each other- and it's not her fault Sokka's in love with her. It's not either of their faults that Zuko's in love with him.

Zuko tells himself this, over and over and over.

He's not allowed to hate her. There's nothing about her that he could possibly find to hate.

She's beautiful, and dangerous, and a little scary. She likes Sokka's terrible jokes (to an extent) and she tries all the spicy foods Zuko cooks that Sokka refuses to go near. She's funny, and smart, and has done wonders for Sokka's fashion sense since they started dating. Zuko really, genuinely, likes her.

Until one spring morning, she steps into their kitchen, and Zuko hates her so suddenly and viscerally it chokes him. And then immediately feels bad about it, of course, it’s just that-

"Morning Zuko," She murmurs sleepily, padding across the floor in a pair of Sokka's novelty socks. And she's wearing it. The fucking sweatshirt. "Sleep okay?"

Zuko makes a sort of a dazed half-grunt of agreement, watching her move around the kitchen. He's staring; he knows it. She wears it so well; it's a little big on her, coming down to her thighs, bunching up around her forearms. It looks better than it ever would on him. Not that- whatever.

He doesn't notice Sokka enter the kitchen, but sees the way he wraps his arms around Suki from behind, burying his face into the curve of her neck. He whispers something to her that Zuko can't hear (he doesn't have his aid in- which he might be grateful for right now), and she laughs, throwing her head back. Sokka's hand snakes under the edge of her sweatshirt, pulling it up slightly as it trails along the freckled, tan skin of her thighs. Suki swats him away and shuffles out of his arms and toward to the fridge, and he catches her cheek with a quick kiss as she walks past him. As ever, they make a picture-perfect couple.

Zuko tries to stamp down the bitter nausea that rises in his throat.

Sokka grins at him as he pulls his hair back into a tie and sits down at the table across from him. "Fuck, I'm exhausted." He groans, rubbing at his eyes, and Zuko, for the sake of his sanity, tries not to think about why that might be the case. "Are you- uh. Bending that on purpose?"

Zuko looks down at his hand, and the cereal spoon he's near folded in half without realising. "Oh. Uh. Yeah?" He tries to bend it back into shape, feeling the blood rush to his face while he tries to make something up that sounds halfway normal. "Just- um. Muscle control. I saw a video about it."

Sokka huffs out a laugh. "Whatever you say, hotman." He says, in a sort of airy tone.

Zuko looks up, about to say something about that particular nickname, but Sokka's not even looking at him. His eyes watch Suki as she moves around the kitchen, like she's his favourite thing to look at. Like he's in love. And she must catch him watching, because after a beat his eyes start to crinkle at the edges, and he smiles, so bright and soft Zuko knows, at that moment, he might as well not be in the room.

[four months earlier]

"'Thank you, Sokka, for remembering I always forget to bring a jacket and then bitch about how cold it is for the entire walk back to the dorms. What would I do without you?'" Sokka says, light and sing-song, as Zuko pulls the sweatshirt over his head.

"I do not 'bitch'." Zuko huffs. "And it's not fair, you grew up with the cold. I'm still... adjusting."

"Whatever you say, hotman." Sokka chuckles, stepping further into Zuko's space under the streetlight. "Ayy, looking good. Blue suits you."

Zuko rolls his eyes, as he tries not to make a big deal of patting his hair down. The sweatshirt smells like Sokka. Zuko tries not to breathe too deeply. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not?" Sokka laughs, tucking a hair behind Zuko's ear. Zuko hopes he can't hear the little hitch in his breath. "Looks much better on you than it ever did on me."

Sokka's close now, closer than usual, adjusting the hood on Zuko's shoulders and brushing off a bit of string. "It was my favourite in high school. This was our hockey team," He says, fingers brushing the logo on Zuko's chest. Zuko will, for years, insist that the way his body trembles in that moment is a shiver from the cold. "I didn't wash it for like, six months the year we went to Nationals."

Zuko makes a face, and Sokka chuckles, letting out breaths that swirl in the cold inches between them. He gives a little tug on one of the ties around the neck. "You can keep it, if you want."

Zuko laughs, and it sounds a little forced, and very panicked. Because Sokka is straight, and his best friend, and trying to kiss him would be the stupidest thing Zuko has ever done. He tells himself this, over and over and over. He looks up, and Sokka's looking right at him, a little smile on his lips and a look in his eyes Zuko can't quite understand. "I'm not gonna steal your favourite shirt, Sokka." He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Sokka blinks at him, then shoves his hands back in the pockets of his jacket. "Suit yourself." He shrugs, then tilts his head. "Shall we?"

Zuko doesn't have time to nod before Sokka turns and begins walking in the direction of their shared dorm. Zuko stands, frozen in the street light, for a long moment before he shakes himself and shuffles forward to catch up.

[moonshotsx]

neighbors au but bosco steals... borrows daya's guitar

idk i was listening to lonely st and thought about writing this, i'm sorry if it's not all that great lol

feel free to check out the song that inspired this... i slightly changed one or two words of the lyrics to fit better bosco's vibe

--

"Isn't that Daya's guitar?"

Bosco looked up from the sheet they had been scribbling down the lyrics to a possible new song, crossing out different guitar chords as they tried them out.

"And?"

Jasmine furrowed her brows, "Does she know you have it?"

"Why would that concern you?"

"Daya would be able to blame me if it started raining, having her guitar in my room isn't really a good look," she crossed her arms, "Well?"

Bosco rolled their eyes, "I'll tell her to cut you some slack, she isn't all that different from you, even if she would rather lose her ability to sing rather than admit it," they replied before going back to focus on their attention on the song, "Plus, she's probably too busy fucking Jorgeous to notice"

Jasmine sighed, knowing the brunette was right, "Can I know what you're working on? I don't think I've heard you play this with the band before"

Bosco paused for a moment as if they were contemplating if showing off their lyrics to their girlfriend so early on in their development was a good idea.

"I just got a couple of verses down, it's nothing special," they tried to downplay the song, something Jasmine had noticed Bosco doing all too frequently.

Especially if the song meant a lot to them.

"I want to hear it," she said, "But only if you want to share it," she added softly.

She could see the clogs turning inside Bosco's head. She had come to realize just how closed off to their emotions Bosco was, after having been hurt so many times before.

Jasmine was about to get up after a couple of minutes of silence when she finally heard the first couple of chords.

As I walk down the street, falling down, I'm falling down The street is desolated I blackout again at every free time, spaced out The street is isolated Still astray, ayy-ayy-ayy Just fuck it all 'cause I'ma go on my way

Bosco's voice was raw, emotions being fully let out as they sang. They had closed their eyes, their hands moving effortlessly across the chords.

They were singing just for themselves, letting the words flow out. Jasmine had rarely seen Bosco like that, it made her want to go to them and hold them.

Tell them they weren't alone.

I feel like I'll faint from exhaustion I don't think I can go further Although I have a lot taken away from me, ayy This is my last time walking this way

Jasmine had barely realized the snipped was over before Bosco spoke up.

"D into E minor," they muttered, trying to casually dry off the lonely tear rolling down their cheek, "That should do it, yeah, that should do it," they cleared their throat, not looking up to meet Jasmine's eyes.

They put Daya's guitar down next to them on the bed to scribble down the missing chords, not paying attention to Jasmine as she walked up to them.

She didn't say a word as she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Bosco's neck, holding them tightly.

Jasmine felt them smile against her skin as they hugged her back.

She could only imagine how much they needed it.