#<- thank you for predictive text. fun!

[catilinas]

doomed by the generic conventions of the local christmas panto

[oceantornadoo]

merry xmas! some platonic family fluff with johnny for y’all

ch3 the wrong john | masterlist | next

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

—

When you wake, John is gone.

Predictable, really. Isn’t that what you wanted? A simple fuck, something to hold you over before sticking around this unknown city for however long Johnny tolerated you. John’s dirty talk and possessive demeanor had woken something inside you and now it was gone, lost to hotel sheets and your alcohol-drenched brain. For some odd, unimportant reason, you felt a sense of disappointment that he didn’t stay. You scanned your bedtable for a note or something and came up empty. A feeling of abandonment sank low in your stomach and you tried to tune it out by focusing on the fun you’d had with John. One of your hands slithered down your naked stomach, eyes closing as you tried to recreate a scene from a few hours ago when John woke you up with his tongue. “Open those legs f’ me, that’s a good girl.” You squeezed your eyes shut in an effort to imagine John’s deep baritone. “C’mon, one more. Jus’ f’ me, yeah?” You found yourself nodding along to that phantom voice, fingers circling your sore clit harder and harder, orgasm starting to crest and-

Ding!

Your phone, abandoned in your bag somewhere, was hit with a barrage of texts. You checked the clock and shit, it was already 9:30am. So much for primping before visiting Johnny. With legs like jelly, you slowly walked over and dug through your purse to find your half-dead phone.

Idiot half: We still on for 1000?

Idiot half: Was going to suggest breakfast but training is going over time, fucking rookies. Think the team’s free for lunch if you want.

Idiot half: Let me know when you’re on the way.

Your heart ached with the sincerity Johnny showed over text. He was all jokes in public, but when it was just you two, you could feel your twin’s want for your affection. You two were more similar than you gave credit to. Plugging in your phone, you texted him back a “might be a little late!”, then jumped into the shower and started your day.

45 minutes later, your cab pulled up in front of a stoic-looking military base. “‘Fraid I can’t get ya any closer, miss. This one’s real locked down.” You thanked the driver anyways, paying him then stepping out. Before you could even wonder how to actually get in (should you just walk to the drive up? That seemed undignified), there was a figure with a ridiculous mohawk striding past the front guards, dressed in fully fatigues. 

“M'eudail!” The stupid urge to run towards Johnny bubbled up inside you, a remnant of your shared childhood. Instead, you quickened your walking pace until you met him at a guarded entrance, blinking twice at how it looked more like a prison than a place of work. Johnny disregarded the guards and attacked you with a hug, his familiar scent of pine and musk invading your senses. Tears were forming in your eyes for some unknown reason, surely not connected to a reunion with your twin.

“Missed ye, hen.” You nodded against him where your cheek was tucked into the curve of his neck. He’d certainly gotten beefier since the last time you saw him, his shoulder muscles digging into your arms around his upper half. “Missed you too, Johnny.” You pulled back a little and Johnny noticed the tears before you could wipe them away. His thumbs were callused but gentle, swiping at your skin until it was dry. “Knew I was y’r favorite.” You scoffed, not meeting his eyes. “Shut up, Johnny. It’s allergies.” He tugged you back into his arms, his stupid twin telepathy reading you too well. “Aye, I ken. Y’know I love you too.” Johnny held you until your tears dried, being a complete gentleman and not acknowledging how puffy your eyes had become when you pulled back. 

“Thought I was here to meet your boyfriend, huh? Or is he conveniently ‘off base’?” You used finger quotes to emphasize your rag. Johnny rolled his eyes, tucking you under his arm and marching you into a scary-looking building. It was so utilitarian it made your eyes burn, all slick concrete and bulletproof windows. Not exactly warm and fuzzy.

“Yer jus’ jealous because yer single, hen. I see right through ye.” He marched you both straight past the guards, then produced a visitor pass out of one of his many pockets and put it around your neck. “Pretty necklace, just for ye.” You rolled your eyes, then elbowed him in the side. No matter what, Johnny could always make you act like a moody teenager. 

You bickered back and forth as Johnny showed you around. “An’ here’s the mess.” (“Bet they cook better than you, Johnny.”) “Common room.” (“Do you guys play shooter games or is that too close to home?”) “Finally, ‘eres where we’re goin’. Trainin’ room.”

It was more than a room, it was a building. It seemed at least two basketball gyms wide, filled with training equipment, a track, and tools that seemed more fit to be in a torture chamber. At one corner of the room, there was a massive hunk of a man yelling at scrawny soldiers you figured were recruits. He was built like a tree, legs and arms thick as trunks while his face was covered with a plain black balaclava. He looked like an intruder you’d had nightmares about.

“An’ ‘eres the L.T. Or Ghost if ye think he’s scary lookin’. The boyfriend, but that’s confidential.” Johnny winked as your mouth dropped. This was the “cuddly fucker” your brother was in love with? He seemed more fit to be the Winter Soldier.

Ghost looked up at the sight of you two approaching. He barked something to the recruits and they scattered, sprinting towards the weightlifting equipment like their lives depended on it. With the way Ghost looked, it might be true.

“Alright, love?” Who was he talking to? You glanced around and oh, Johnny was nodding. You couldn’t have even imagined Ghost would call your brother love in a soft-sounding tone. “‘Ere she is, L.T.. My baby sister.” You rolled your eyes unconsciously. He was older by three minutes.

“Nice to, um, meet you. Johnny didn’t mention it was Halloween year-round here.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. The joke just burst out of your mouth, not even checking in with your brain first. All you could do was watch for his reaction in the stunned silence.

“Johnny, ya didn’t say she was funnier tha’ you. Welcome t’ base, bird.” He pulled you in for a one-armed hug that was over before it started, ruffling your hair before pushing you back out. You glanced back at Johnny and he gave you a wink, pride evident in his face. It warmed your belly and spread to your heart, relaxing your shoulders and spine. Everything was fine. In fact, you probably didn’t even need a drink last night. That thought turned to John real fast, and you shut it down before it started something.

Johnny was clearly the talker of the two, ushering you both out of the training room to meet “Gaz and Cap.” It conjured thoughts of an old-time captain, a man with white hair and a big belly. Wait, maybe that was Santa? Your lack of sleep was really impacting your critical thinking skills.

Excitement and nerves were written clear as day on Johnny’s face as you three neared an official-looking door. He stopped outside of it, Simon at his shoulder blocking the name plate you guessed held their captain’s name. They glanced at each other and Simon squeezed his bicep, words of encouragement flowing unspoken between them. For a second, the smallest millisecond, you felt that familiar yearning for an easy bond like theirs. Something private and sacred.

Johnny nodded to no one in particular, then knocked twice on the door. A muffled “come in” followed swiftly, and he opened the door partially. There was a man sitting in a chair near the door with a baseball hat blocking most of his face. “Bonnie, ‘eres Gaz.” You waved shyly, intimidated by the blinding half-smile he sent your way when he tilted his face up. Your mouth opened, about to ask if he was a Lieutenant too, when Johnny opened the door all the way and pushed you towards the man sitting behind the desk.

“An’ ‘eres the Captain, Cap’n Price.” Your mouth, clearly having disconnected from the rest of your brain, stayed open at the sight before you. At the sight you’d seen 12 hours before in a dark bar, 6 hours before tangled in your sheets, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. He seemed to remember that fact as well, blazing eyes locking onto yours like there was no one else in the room.

“But you can call me John, sweetheart.”

-

if y’all want updates a bit earlier, subscribe to my ao3 for notifs on this story :)

taglist: @lveegsoi @galactict3a @nova-willow-541 @sirbonesly @starlightkitten19

[tsuiioku]

જ⁀➴ ♡ A HEART ONCE BROKEN, NOW HEALED [VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL]

━ VALENTINE'S DAY isn't always for exchanging gifts with those you love. sometimes, it's about remembering those we've lost, and being thankful about those we've gained.

content. gn!reader. slight angst with fluff, cursing, mentions of suicide, slight spice (chuuya), reader is called 'beautiful'. fifteen + stormbringer spoilers (chuuya), dark-era spoilers (dazai). not proofread. 2.9k+ words. ⟶ features osamu dazai + chuuya nakahara (separately). author's note. wanted to do something fun for valentine's! nice to finally be writing again (i say, like this isn't my millionth hiatus).

would you like to see more content? fill out the taglist!

You didn’t expect DAZAI to do anything for Valentine’s Day. He had a certain edge to him as the holiday approached, and as much as you wished to celebrate with him, you decided against it. Perhaps you’d make another day, an ordinary day, memorable instead—a day for just the two of you. At least, that’s what you thought was going to happen.

But, of course, he managed to surprise you.

You had received a voicemail before you even awoke that morning.

You hold your phone to your ear, straining to hear his voice through the rushing wind.

“Hello, gorgeous! I have a super special surprise for you. I’ll text you the details. See you at 3!”

To the untrained ear, one would assume has was planning something sweet for the occasion. But there was this dangerous lilt to his tone—not mischievous or cocky in preparation for a prank.

No.

It was the same tone that told you he’d be standing on the side of a bridge.

You race there the moment you set the phone down.

If he’s planning something self-destructive, you’ll be there to stop him.

Arriving at a graveyard does nothing to soothe your nerves.

You pace along its pathways with no idea where he could be. It’s only through sheer luck that you spot tufts of brown hair hidden behind an isolated headstone.

“Dazai,” you pant, bending down to catch your breath.

He doesn’t bother to turn around, resting his eyes as he leans back against the grave, not flinching when you sit beside him.

You’d think he was dead if you didn’t know any better.

“Do you like it?” he mumbles. “The view is truly to die for. One day, I hope I’m buried somewhere just as beautiful.”

“One day that is far in the future.”

But you can’t argue with him.

The view is beautiful. Whoever lays here is cared for deeply, even after death.

The perfect place to house a weary soul.

“Do I have to ask?”

Dazai hums a familiar tune.

It makes your skin crawl.

“Who was he?” Your hands respectfully brush against the stone. “You’ve never been the type to seek out a grave that isn’t your own.”

He chuckles dryly at your not-so-subtle jab but surrenders to defeat. And you don’t know what that defeat means besides understanding that it’s a part of some carefully crafted plan. And you are inclined to believe you’ll not like how this one ends.

His bandaged hand smooths against the headstone’s surface, catching against its roughened texture.

"This is Sakunosuke Oda. He is the reason I left the Port Mafia.”

And he tells you everything. Everything.

The friendship forged between three unlikely men—the inevitable betrayal of one and the predictable demise of another. The only future left up in the air was his own.

But as he describes Oda—his closest friend, he claims—his voice holds a reverence you’ve never heard spoken from his lips. He draws a line between himself and the late man, holding him as a person so pure of intention, even with their shared past of blood.

Unlike him.

Dazai knows he is a monster.

He has committed crimes far more violent than you could imagine, all without an ounce of remorse. He used to revel in the rush of a bloodbath, the actions of his youth forever tainting his soul. He may not belong to the mafia anymore; his former allegiance simply resulted from bored complacency, but one thing remains certain.

He does not deserve someone like you.

Sometimes, you’re hard to look at. You remind him too much of the man buried beneath you, making his hollow heart ache. Neither you nor Oda are perfect people, but you both so earnestly try to be better—it was human.

And he wonders—if you stay with him for any longer, will you eventually become stained by the crimes he’s committed? Or will you end up like Oda, a lesson for him to reflect on in the lonely years to come?

He can’t stand the thought of either.

“You give him far too much credit.”

Like a record scratch, his mind halts, honing in on your voice as it melts into an unfamiliar, somber tone. One that holds so much raw honesty it makes him sick.

“I may not have known him, but if he was truly your closest friend, then it’s impossible he didn’t see what I do.”

He scoffs.

“Oh, really? And what’s that?”

You choose not to mind his sardonic tone. There would be a time.

“That you have potential far beyond what you envision for yourself.”

You take his hand, tracing abstract images in the bandages of his limp palm as you ignore his hardened stare.

“You have a particularly stubborn way of viewing things, even with your intellect,” you muse. “You craft roadblocks that only exist within the confines of your mind, limiting yourself to the future you think you deserve.”

And when you meet his gaze, your eyes sear through him.

“You’re not a good man. But you’re not as bad as you claim to be.”

Flashes of memory, of every life shattered and of every corpse trampled underneath his feet, beg to differ.

“If you knew the extent of what I’ve done, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

And in reply, you flick his forehead.

“You seem pretty set in thinking for me, Osamu.” Your voice is scolding but holds no bite. “I’d be offended if I couldn’t easily see why.”

And a whisper embeds a chill within his bones, seeping through the flesh and tingling down to his fingertips.

“Do you really think I’ll turn tail and run the second you revert to your old ways?”

His slackened hand seizes your wrist, almost bruising. Almost.

“You should if you know what’s good for you.”

He hopes to scare you.

To shake your unwavering resolve.

To fracture the foundation of those beliefs that lead you to foolishly place your trust in him.

But you laugh.

He tries to pull back, but you hold him there tighter.

“You truly don’t see how much you’ve changed. God, you are stubborn.”

His breath catches—you’re at once calamitous, the wild embodiment of a zephyr with no reins.

“But unluckily for you, so am I.”

Frosted flurries linger in the tresses of your hair, untamed strands framing the electrifying expression that pulses in the upturn of your lips and the brightness of your eyes. So wonderfully unpredictable, so woefully disastrous for a soul he never believes he deserves.

Only in this world is a snowstorm the key to thawing his frozen heart.

“I can’t deny I would’ve loved to meet him.” You lean against the stiffened curve of his shoulder. “Anyone who can manage to change your mind must've been remarkable.”

Every inch of him feels aflame, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“In life, people are categorized as one thing or another, and in death, their actions are simplified to an anecdote or forgotten entirely,” you say, an undeniable somberness returning with a softness as you let frost nip at your skin. “The best that can be done is to watch the results of their influence when they’re no longer here.”

And, for the first time, his hand responds to your repetitive ministrations with a subtle squeeze.

You smile.

He pauses at the deafened sound of a sniffle, lost in the sight of the tears that roll down your cheeks without a word.

“But I want to know everything.”

Your arm intertwines with his, fearing he’ll run at the first chance.

“Every sin that stains your soul mafia black, every mistake that convinces you that you can only be who you once were.”

He has made hundreds, thousands of mistakes—a running list tallied in his mind, repeated over and over on his worst days and subtly whispering reminders on his best.

How can he possibly taint you with even the mention of such things?

Your voice echoes in a whisper, only for him to hear.

“I want the chance to look at you, all of you, and still love you the same.”

He is stubborn, but so are you.

He allows himself to press one kiss against the top of your head, but he should’ve known. Indulging once only leads him to indulge again, and again, and again—he pulls you closer, dotting reverent, blistering kisses across your cold, heated skin. His lips trace the apples of your cheeks, marking the pathway of your tears with the devotion to soothe them.

“He would’ve loved you as much as I do.”

His voice breaks, but you say nothing.

Content to remain in his arms, comforted in the knowledge that you’ll always be one of the few who can change his mind.

Out of all the proposed plans for the day, you didn’t expect CHUUYA to ask you to meet somewhere far outside the city. It was weird waking up alone in bed with only a text on the phone with an address and time. But you went with it, not knowing what to expect.

You would’ve never guessed a graveyard.

It sits on a cliffside, enclosed by a canopy of trees that gives the sight a sense of privacy. The graves aren’t neat or well-kept, but for some reason, you have a feeling that is a measure of how loved the place is.

And there is Chuuya, sitting on top of a gravestone.

“Isn’t that a bit disrespectful?”

Chuuya’s attention darts away from the setting sun.

“Not like it matters,” he scoffs, jumping off of it. “Deserves it for being such a pain in the ass.”

But he doesn’t move to come near you, so you settle for glancing at the graves around you, full of unfamiliar names you are sure he recognizes. Some are far more recent than you assumed, but that brings you back to reality.

“Why’d you call me here?” Your face shifts into an awkward smile. “Not that I mind the scenery, but a graveyard isn’t quite the first thing that comes to mind when I think of a date.”

But you falter once you note the downtrodden look on his face.

You’re not stupid, far from it. You know him well enough to know when he has something to say—the way he fiddles with his fists as they’re tucked into his pockets, how his foot taps against the ground at an irregular tempo. Someone less knowledgeable would assume he is just agitated.

But you know better.

“Is everything alright?”

Your voice is soft—not hesitant, calming like a balm over a wound. It carefully treads through as you try to dissect the reason behind his demeanor.

He sighs.

“There’s something I’ve gotta tell you.”

And you don’t prod, simply nodding at him.

“Then let’s sit down.”

You find yourself with the perfect view of the sunset. Despite your earlier jest, this would be a beautiful date spot, but you don’t linger on the thought for long. You don’t want to be nervous but can’t help it. There’s a key difference between his normal stoicism and genuine seriousness.

And he is serious.

You fiddle with the grass beneath your fingers, trying not to overthink it.

Chuuya is careful as he sits down, not completely next to you, but close enough that he can see enough of your face. He feels the words clogged in his throat, instead taking in the sight of you in the glow of the setting sun. The most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. He watches for another fleeting moment as the ocean breeze tussles your hair.

But sunsets aren’t meant to last.

So, he delves into the details of this place—its significance in creating the man he is today. But he quickly skips the more unimportant details. These are stories he can tell you with ease. Some are a pain in his heart, yes, but it is a pain he trusts you with. One he knows you can handle—and pain he allows to be shared, even if momentarily.

The origins of his ability are a different story.

Those are more complicated than petty betrayals and mafia rivalries.

The descriptions of experiments are enough to chill you to the core, forcing you to swallow your nausea at the thought of them being conducted on the very man you love.

“Once that power is unleashed, my body is no longer under my control.”

He removes his hat, his gloved fingers straining around its edges.

“I become a beast hellbent on destruction.” His voice dips with an irritated edge, and you can guess the next few keywords before he says them. “And I’m forced to rely on Dazai to nullify it. That bastard enjoys showing up at the worst possible moment just to toy with me.”

You laugh a little, but he doesn’t have the heart for your usual back and forth.

“But without him, anyone in my path is in danger.”

That laughter fades into something silent, contemplative.

“And even if that doesn’t happen, there are many who would gladly give anything for a fraction of the power I possess, to the point that they would use anyone under my care as leverage. I couldn’t possibly keep count of how many die simply for being my subordinates, much less…”

He cuts himself off.

You are smart enough to know the rest.

So he waits, and he doesn’t truly know what for. He just knows what you should do. You should run far away from him and anything he touches. If you run fast and far enough, you can save yourself from the danger of being his.

His eyes catch the way your hands fidget, nervous, and he can’t help but feel the same.

“I don’t think I say it enough…” Chuuya’s eyes dart to the outline of your lips, a breath of cold air escaping them. “But you truly are the most resilient man I’ve ever met.”

He huffs.

He knows that stubborn tone of voice anywhere. But this isn’t some stupid argument over the best type of wine or an attempt to stop him from splurging on new clothes—he’ll shoot your stubborn attitude down for your own good.

“But you’re such a hypocrite.”

What.

He can barely hide his shock, and your fond, cheeky smile begins to sour.

“Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t brave that danger?” you sneer, your voice hot with anger. “I know you would if it were me!”

You whip your head around, your brows furrowed, and your lips curled into the beginnings of a snarl.

“So why the hell do you think I wouldn’t do the same?!”

He can’t quite come up with a response.

You are right.

If your roles were reversed, he wouldn’t leave. It wouldn’t matter to him if he lived or died as long as you were together. But this isn’t your reality, and you are in danger.

And he won’t stand for it.

“You’re in danger.” His voice is low, scolding. “If those bastards find out you’re with me, they’ll do whatever it takes to end your life. If something happens to you, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Do you regret them?”

He pauses, frowning.

“Who?”

“Them. Your friends.”

You level his gaze.

“Do you regret them?”

He doesn’t want to think about it.

Think about them.

He can still see them, or at least the flashes of what remains of them. Shells of the vibrant people they once were snuffed out with ease.

“If it wasn’t for me, they’d still be alive today.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you reply, the coolness of your voice raising goosebumps on his arms. “Do you regret them? Were those bonds not worth the grief that followed their passing?”

“Of course not!” he exclaims, his frustration palpable. “But that’s not the point.”

“Do you think they’d regret you?”

His mouth goes dry at the look you give him.

You are like an ephemeral, deadly storm. Your eyes match his in force and shine with the knowledge that you have him cornered.

And he cannot look away.

You are always beautiful to him—it amazes him how someone can be so breathtaking. But you have never been as radiant as you are now.

You take his hand into your own, holding it tight.

“Do you think I could ever regret you?”

He freezes.

Your fingertips are like fire as they trace the exposed skin of his wrist.

“You don’t consider the agency of the people you care for.”

He shudders as your lips brush his skin, your thumb inching beneath the fabric of his glove.

“Risk is a guarantee for every interaction we have. Especially when it comes to those we hold closest.”

You slip the glove off.

“But that risk is a two-way street.” You smile. “And if those friends are anything like me, then they’d agree with one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

His response is without power, and there is no fight left within him.

Your hand overlaps his own as it cups your face.

You squeeze gently, leading him to truly look at you.

“You’re worth that risk.”

He doesn’t know who leans in first, but before he knows it, his lips are on yours. You cannot be close enough, even as he pulls you onto his lap, groaning at the delicate touch of your fingers in his hair.

In this moment, he allows himself to forget.

The danger. The risk.

He allows the storm to weather him.

And as you part, heavy breaths passing between you both, he is forced to surrender.

“I hope you’re the last sight I ever see.”

If it is for you, it is worth the risk.

TAGLIST: @yonseibananamilk @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @coffeeofsamu @just-another-crack-artist @newnlovesjennie @snowsilver2000 @kai7196 @chyozai @rebel-finn @justcallmesakira @emyyy007 @mxxny-lupin @little-miss-chaoss @himikoslove @osameowdazai @deepseafragments @aureatchi @kelperspelt @squigglewigglewoo @lovesick-fairy @zyilas @ishqani @sillyspookycat

© TSUIIOKU 2025 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[asunflowerana]

eye candy — Sakusa Kiyoomi

summary: only you have kiyoomi's heart. and he'll make sure every single one knows that.

It's lunch break, and Kiyoomi peacefully savors his beef stew, his cousin making him company as usual, sitting beside him at the table far from the noisy students. Among the cafeteria, comments about the next volleyball match can be heard, especially with the semifinals of the spring tournament qualifiers, wondering if the team’s star will keep up with his performance or fail to give the school another victory.

What does he think about their opinion? 

Well, actually, he just doesn't care. 

Sakusa doesn’t play to get fan’s approval or popularity: he plays because he enjoys what he does. Being noticed is just an effect of his efforts to become a professional someday, and even though the spotlight brings some benefits, he wouldn’t mind if his whole fanclub disappeared suddenly. Most of their support is superficial and sham, too shallow for his liking. 

Who truly matters to Omi is those who have always been there for him, way before his rise. Like you, for example. 

His favorite fan.

He cares for you so, so much, in a way he never imagined he could do it. It’s strange, now thinking of it, how someone so skeptical about love before now does anything possible to show you how much he appreciates your existence, and how grateful he is for being yours, and for having the honor of calling you his. 

If it depends on Sakusa, this will remain for the rest of his life.

Motoya’s a front row spectator of your relationship, being there since the moment you and his cousin first interacted with each other, you politely asking to borrow one of his pens in History class. Imagine the blonde’s shock when he saw Omi not cleaning the pen after you’ve returned.

He was the first one to hear about the brunette's feelings, the one who helped him pick the first date place, the flowers, the gifts, even the dorky letters Omi sent to your address, wanting to be different from the usual texting-guys. If there’s one person in the world who knows how crazy in love Sakusa Kiyoomi is for you, it’s Motoya. He isn’t bothered at all, having a lot of fun every time he watches his cousin getting all doki doki whenever you’re around.

And how protective he gets when you’re not. 

“Sakusa.” A girl suddenly approaches their table, her sultry but invasive voice interrupting the chewing of both cousins. If Motoya’s not mistaken, this girl is Tai, one of Class D students. He secretly grimaces, already predicting the reason she came to talk to Omi, like all the other girls that has been crushing on his cousin. 

Poor girl.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even look up from his food, preparing a spoon full of vegetables. “Yes?”

“Um-” She fidgets a little with the disinterest in his tone, but a charming smile appears on her face nonetheless. Oh, she’s trying hard. “I just came to wish you a good game this Friday. I’ll be cheering for you on the stands.”

“Hmmm.” He doesn’t even hide his boredom, contemplating the pleasing taste of the seasoned stew. He hopes the staff used gloves while preparing it this time. “Didn’t know you were part of the cheer’s team.” 

“N-no!” She chuckles a little too loud, trying to hide her nervousness. “I’m not part of the team. I just… I wanted to cheer just for you, you know? Give you some boost for the game.”

Unfortunately for her, this time he raises his gaze until it finds her anxious eyes, which averts when they notice the unpleasant frown on his face. “Boost? Do you think I need your cheers to play well?”

“N-not at all. But, you know, having an eye candy could help you play even better.”

Motoya snorts loudly, not being able to hold how impressed he is by the girl’s dumb confidence. Is she that clueless? Sakusa has been dating you for almost six months, there’s no way she doesn’t know by now that he’s taken. He watches as his cousin stares at her for a few uncomfortable seconds, his cold glare making even him uncomfortable. Thank goodness, he is not the target this time.

“I don’t see any eye candy here.” Short and frank, Omi answers her move.

Tai looks clearly dejected, but she took the hint that insisting wouldn’t do any good to her side. To lessen the embarrassing moment, she nods at him, pretending his words didn’t have an effect on her heart, and she offers him a brief goodbye before rushing away from their table, shoulders slowly falling with shame.

“Oof, that one hurted.” Motoya breaks the silence, his eyes widening as he checks his wristwatch. “Twenty-five seconds! It’s your new ditch record, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes at his comment, having another spoon of his stew “She's been trying that for weeks. She even knows ______.”

“Well, I think she got the message now.” The blonde chuckles, eyes twinkling as he spots you entering the cafeteria right after his comment. He raises his left hand and waves at you with a smile, succeeding in catching your attention.. “And look who’s coming to the party.”

From his cousin's excited tone, Omi has a pretty good guess on who he’s referring to, and he instinctively searches through the crow to check it out. It’s amazing how Omi’s semblance lights up when he sees you. The transformation is visible, and if he could, Motoya would totally take a picture of his cousin’s starstruck face right now.

“Hey guys!” You greet them as soon as you get closer, and your boyfriend immediately takes a chair from the closest table and arranges beside him for you to sit on. Motoya holds back a laugh, and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Omi.”

Hearts could come out of Sakusa’s eyes.

“You’re so beautiful today.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, making you giggle in that sweet way that makes his heart flutter every single time.

“Okay lover, you can go back to eat, she won’t go anywhere.” His cousin cracks a joke, but the brunette doesn’t even pay attention to his words, choosing to focus on you instead.

The displays of affection don’t stop, and he doesn’t even notice how sappy (but sweet) he’s being with you. He holds your hand on top of the table, absently stroking your skin with his thumb and occasionally kissing the back of it; he nuzzles your head when you cuddle his arm, loving to smell the scent of your shampoo; he looks at you intently as you speak about your last class, paying attention to every word that comes out of your pretty mouth like it’s the most important speech he’s ever heard.

Motoya doesn’t know if he looks the other way in disgust, or if he just smiles, happy that his cousin has finally found someone special for him. Or if he takes some pictures of sweet Omi, which would be a good opportunity to make fun of him later.

“Okay guys, I’ll catch up with you later.” The blonde announces, figuring you’d better have your privacy; being the third wheel can be really tiring sometimes.“ Omi, see you at the warm-up. Enjoy your time together, lovebirds.” The blonde leaves, leaving the two of you more comfortable getting closer to each other. Omi kisses your cheek sweetly before caressing it with his palm.

“Will you watch the match today?” He questions, loving the idea of spotting your beautiful self in the middle of the game. 

The question sounds a little strange to your ears, because you almost never lose his games. But you choose to answer regardless, caressing his scalp full of curly locks, to his delight. “Yes, of course I’ll be there.”

“Good.” A small smile of his grows with your touch. “I need my eye candy.”

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly | 8

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language, overthinking, mild sexual references and implications

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ you had been freaking out after rafe had left you on read, and when he finally replied, it only worsened the weird vibes between you two. trying to avoid him completely backfired when he confronted you at school, forcing you to admit that you’d panicked over his invite for no real reason. but instead of being pissed or making fun of you, he just… took it in stride, teasing you in a way that somehow made all your worries disappear. plus he still wanted you to come over later for another school work session.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 4.2k+

✿ A / N ✿ sorry for the delay on this part. like i already mentioned in a previous post, i was very busy the last two weeks and i didn't find the time to write. i'm still very occupied bc i'm probably moving soon and all that stuff and i don't want my writing to suffer just bc i rushed things. anyway i tried my best on this part, thank you for your support and patience and i hope you guys enjoy <33

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

W E E K O N E // W E D N E S D A Y

"He said WHAT?!" Cara’s voice rang out through your phone, her eyes wide in shock.

You were lying on your bed, FaceTime open, having called her right after school to catch her up on everything. Because holy shit—A LOT had happened since your last update. And that was literally just yesterday afternoon, right after your visit to Kelce’s.

So you’d spent the past hour walking her through everything—how you’d completely embarrassed yourself trying to set up a third study session with Rafe after turning down his invite, only for him to leave you on read. How he finally texted you later that night, which somehow spiraled into this weirdly tense back-and-forth. How you then tried to avoid him at school today… and failed spectacularly when you ran into him in the courtyard, where he straight-up confronted you about the whole thing.

And even just telling Cara about it had your face heating up all over again. The memory of that conversation alone made your stomach twist because, honestly? You hadn’t felt that uncomfortable in a long time.

You had actually fucking admitted—to his face—that you were an overthinking crazy bitch who only turned down his invite because you got so deep in your own head, you convinced yourself he just wanted to sleep with you.

Yeah. That happened.

And the way he had reacted? You never could’ve predicted it in a million years.

You’d thought he’d laugh at you, stay pissed, and throw it back in your face—but somehow, he hadn’t. Instead, he had this annoyingly effortless way of brushing past your humiliating confession, making you feel like maybe—just maybe—he actually got you.

You just gave Cara a sheepish smile. “He said I really need to get laid.”

"Oh my god, girl," Cara shook her head, grinning so hard her face could split. "AHHH, I don’t even know what to say."

"Imagine how I felt," you laughed. "I just gave the most uncomfortable speech of my life, and that’s his response." You shook your head, still baffled. "Like… I was so overwhelmed, but somehow, the whole argument just disappeared after that. And what’s even crazier? He still wants me to come over later."

Cara gasped. “TO FUCK?!”

"What? No," you snorted. "Because I admitted that my excuse was bullshit, meaning I am still free today. And then he made sure to inform me that this wouldn’t be a sex date." You pursed your lips. "Unless I wanted it to be."

“WHAT?!” Cara’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and your phone speaker practically blew out.

You burst into laughter, your cheeks burning. "Yeah, but that was obviously a joke—even I got that."

Cara shook her head. "Oh, honey. Even if it was a joke, he wouldn't just say shit like that for no reason."

"Maybe," you frowned, refusing to let yourself spiral—again. "But I think... I don’t know, Rafe just seems like the type who—" You hesitated, tilting your head. "I feel like he was overwhelmed by the situation as well. Or, I mean, by my confession. Okay, not overwhelmed, but like... either he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable or he didn’t want to feel awkward himself. You get me?"

"I do," Cara said with a knowing smirk. "But, it’s obvious he likes you, girl. I’m telling you—tonight is your chance. Give him a little something to work with."

You shook your head immediately. "Absolutely not."

"I’m not saying go for a kiss," Cara rolled her eyes. "Just, you know—give him those heart eyes, don’t shy away from being close to him. Subtle flirting is key, Y/N."

"I’m just grateful he still wants to work on this project with me after this humiliating conversation," you sighed, rolling onto your back, holding your phone above you. "If I suddenly start acting different... I mean, aside from the fact that I suck at flirting—"

"Because you never try."

"EXACTLY," you shot back. "And if I suddenly switch things up, he’s definitely gonna think I’m actually insane."

Cara sighed dramatically. "You're not supposed to act fake or pull some alter ego move. Just, you know, let him know that you think he’s kinda cool, too."

“I think he knows damn well he’s fine as shit.” You smirked. Rafe had that aura, that confidence—big dick energy.

“Of course, he does,” Cara exclaimed. “But when he hears it from a girl who’s caught his interest? That changes the game in your favor.”

“Yeah, sure…”

And so your phone call went on for the next two hours. Cara kept feeding your delusions while you tried to rationalize every little thing. At some point, she started telling you about her failed attempt to casually bump into JJ Maybank while taking a walk in the Cut. She’d ended up empty-handed—except for the little bag of weed she got from Barry.

“I even wore boots,” Cara sighed. “And all I saw were weird-ass people everywhere. Like, is it really that hard to dress decently once in a while? Or, I don’t know, shower?”

By 3 p.m., she was helping you pick out an outfit. Your meeting with Rafe wasn’t anything serious—like, not really—but still, no way were you about to show up at his place looking like a damn mess.

After trying on what felt like a thousand outfit combos, you finally settled on something casual. Even though the time and setting were… pretty intimate for two people meeting alone in the evening, this wasn’t a date—it was a project work session.

And even though Cara insisted you should wear a nice low-cut top or maybe a skirt that was way too short… yeah, no.

Crying to Rafe about being scared he just wanted to get you into bed just hours ago, only to show up at his place half-naked? Absolutely not. He probably already thought you were crazy anyway.

“Okay, C, gotta go,” you finally said, sinking into your desk chair—your bed was buried under a mountain of clothes. “Dinner’s almost ready, and I still need to shower and, you know, try not to completely lose my mind.”

Cara smirked. “You got this, Y/N. Just stay cool and stop overthinking. Yeah, yeah, I know—that’s basically impossible for you, but at least try.” Her grin widened. “And have fun on your little date. Think of me when he gives you a goodnight kiss.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll text you if I can.”

After hanging up, you turned to the mountain of clothes on your bed. You were so lost in thought about the meeting in less than two hours that you almost didn’t notice your phone vibrating on your desk.

And as much as your heart always skipped a beat when Rafe texted you, this time you felt an odd lightness in your mind and in the way you typed your response to him.

With a big grin, you set your phone back down on your desk. You had no fucking clue why, but ever since that weird confrontation/conversation/confession at school today, it felt like the invisible wall that had been between you since your visit to Kelce had finally come down making room for a more comfortable dynamic.

Maybe it was the way Rafe had handled the situation earlier—with that effortless ease and an almost unspoken understanding. Or maybe it was the fact that today, you had hit a level of nervousness, peak embarrassment, and sheer humiliation so high that nothing really mattered anymore meaning you could actually show who was lurking beneath that shy exterior.

It was probably a mix of both—along with the undeniable truth that, no matter how much you thought you were embarrassing yourself, Rafe never truly called you out on it. Instead, he smoothed things over so seamlessly, like it was second nature to him.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was just using you—to secure a good grade in art, to make sure he didn’t completely tank his senior year. Maybe that was why he hadn’t ditched you yet, why he was being so friendly, maybe even a little flirty. Maybe this was all just a game to him, a way to mess with you and—

AHHHH. NO. STOP.

You shook your head. I’m spiraling again.

And even if that were the case, the simple fact that you had Rafe’s attention at all was… kind of a nice feeling. You knew that was completely ridiculous, even pathetic. But after years of crushing on him, finally getting to spend time with him—even if it was just for this stupid school project—yeah, at this point, you’d take what you could get.

Either way, you didn’t have the time or energy to overanalyze it any further.

At dinner, you let your parents know you’d be taking the SUV later. That, of course, led to a flood of questions about where you were going, and since you were a terrible liar, you told them the truth.

"Oh, say hi to Ward for me," your mom said. "I hope he’s enjoying his Grady-White."

Right. That. Ward Cameron had recently bought a boat from your mom’s company.

You just nodded and conveniently left out the fact that Ward and Rose were off at some charity event tonight, meaning you and Rafe basically had Tannyhill to yourselves. The last thing you needed was a conversation about safe sex.

After a quick shower, you slipped into the outfit you had put together with Cara earlier. And just like that, it was already 5:45 PM.

Tannyhill wasn’t too far from here—especially not by car—but while you didn’t want to be late, you also didn’t want to be that overly punctual nerd. But seriously, what was the right time to show up?

Ugh, why do I have to overcomplicate everything?

You packed your bag, hesitated for a split second—literally a nanosecond—debating whether you should bring a condom just in case of the highly improbable, borderline impossible, one-in-a-billion chance that you might need it (not that you had ever actually bought any yourself, but Cara had gifted you some for your 18th birthday, and they had been buried deep in a secret compartment of your closet ever since).

But yeah, no. You VERY quickly dismissed that thought.

Not only was it insanely delusional and embarrassing, but knowing your luck, you’d probably trip in front of Rafe, and it would fall out of your bag right at his feet.

FUCKKKKKK NO. The mere thought of that—DUDE, NO. JUST THE FACT THAT YOU WERE EVEN CONSIDERING THE POSSIBILITY OF HAVING SEX WITH RAFE TONIGHT. LIKE, WHAT?????? BE FOR FUCKING REAL GIRL.

Shaking off that painfully embarrassing moment of self-awareness, you said goodbye to your parents and got into the SUV.

A short while later, you pulled up to Tannyhill. You drove up the long driveway and parked in a spot near the garages beside the house.

And then… you just sat there, staring at the steering wheel.

I’m in my car. On the Camerons’ property. About to meet Rafe Cameron. For a school project. In the late afternoon. Alone.

Your brain seemed to short-circuit for a second and then—

WHAT THE ACTUAL HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

The nervousness you had been trying to suppress came crashing down all at once. Your hands started to tremble again, and that weird, fluttery feeling returned to your stomach.

This was absolutely insane. First, you had worked with him in the dining hall of Kildare Academy, then at Kelce’s place, and now—AT HIS HOUSE? IN THE SPAN OF THREE DAYS. The rate of escalation here deserved to be analyzed by a math professor.

Okay, I got this, you told yourself. Even if I make a fool of myself, Rafe won’t make a big deal out of it. He didn’t invite me over just to get in my pants, and he’s not using me just to score a good grade. This is a completely normal meeting at a completely normal time to work on a completely normal school project.

…

Normal. Yeah, that wasn’t exactly a word you were familiar with, but whatever. For once in your life, your brain needed to just go with the flow instead of overanalyzing every little thing.

You got out of the car, gripping your bag tightly, and walked up to the large front door. No more overthinking—you simply rang the doorbell.

Still, you were painfully aware of your racing heartbeat.

You were already bracing yourself for some kind of embarrassing moment the second he opened the door. But instead of a 6'2 cute frat boy, you were greeted by the pretty face of a blonde girl. She had a bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing white sneakers as if she were about to head out.

Of course, you recognized Sarah Cameron—she was a grade below you. But you had never actually spoken to her, so seeing her instead of Rafe threw you off for a second. (Which was kind of stupid, considering, you know, she lived here.)

Then you remembered—Rafe had gone to the gym earlier, so maybe he wasn’t even home yet.

Sarah had that effortlessly pretty smile. "Hi," she said, and before you could respond, she added, "My brother’s still in the shower."

She had that look on her face—you couldn’t quite describe it but it basically said, I don’t know who you are, and you’re probably just some random girl my brother is messing around with but hi, very nice to meet you.

Oh god. This was so awkward.

Still, you smiled and tried not to turn red at the thought of Rafe in the shower. "Oh, um, no problem, I’ll just wait."

The silence that followed was already creeping in, so you quickly tried to fill it. "Sarah, right?"

Sarah nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. Her gaze flickered briefly to your bag. "Are you staying over tonight?"

BROOOOOOOO. Was making situations unbearably awkward just a Cameron thing?

Your cheeks warmed as you quickly shook your head, a nervous laugh slipping from your lips. "Oh, no, this is just... I’m here for a school project."

Why did that clarification—the fact that you even had to clarify it—make the whole interaction even more awkward?

But Sarah just chuckled softly. "Just asking because he was really insistent about getting me to leave tonight."

... Okay. WHAT. LEGIT, WHAT???

You forced a small, awkward smile. "Oh, um..." WHAT WERE YOU EVEN SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT? SORRY???

"Don’t worry," Sarah said with a genuine smile, saving you from your own misery. "I was meeting up with friends anyway." Then her expression turned slightly playful. "I was just curious to see who'd be showing up tonight. Normally, he gives in quicker when I ask for a name."

Whatever that was supposed to mean—holy shit.

Somewhere inside the house, a door shut. Sarah smirked. "I should go. Don’t wanna kill the vibe when he sees I’m still here. Go on, you can wait inside." She slipped past you, offering a friendly smile. "Have fun and don't hesitate to put him in his place." She chuckled. "It was nice meeting you, Y/N."

Overwhelmed, mildly embarrassed, and somehow also amused, you gave her a small wave. "You too, and same."

As she finally turned to leave, you hesitated for a second, debating whether you should just stay put—but that would be kinda weird. So, instead, you stepped inside the foyer and closed the door behind you.

Okay... now what?

Somehow, waiting inside for Rafe to eventually come downstairs felt even weirder than if you'd just waited outside. But no, no second-guessing. No overanalyzing. Tonight, you were turning your brain off.

Hahahahahaha as if that was even possible.

You sank down onto a leather bench near the door, somewhat grateful to have a moment to process everything.

Then again, that was not a good thing, because now Sarah’s words were replaying in your head. And on top of that, there was the creeping realization that RAFE MIGHT BE STANDING NAKED UNDER THE SHOWER RIGHT NOW OR IN HIS ROOM GETTING DRESSED OKOKOKOKOK.

Please. Chill.

You wiped your sweaty palms against your clothes, feeling like a lab rat in some kind of twisted experiment. Your brain had no reference point for this situation, no past experiences to pull from for guidance.

Because this? Being alone in a boy’s house—a boy who also happened to be your crush—yeah, no, this was uncharted territory.

Alright, you needed a distraction until he came downstairs. So, you pulled out your phone.

As soon as you heard Rafe’s footsteps in the hallway, you quickly shoved your phone away, fighting the urge to bolt out of the house. Not that it mattered—you were frozen in place anyway.

You straightened up, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you spotted his Off-White slides at the top of the stairs. Then his shorts, the hem of his shirt, and finally—

His broad shoulders were draped with a white towel. And holy shit—his sharp jawline, his stupidly perfect face, and damp hair falling messily over his forehead.

The whole image did something to you. Something you shoved deep, deep down the second his eyes landed on you in the foyer.

For a split second, you thought you caught a flicker of confusion—or surprise?—in his expression, but it was quickly masked by either realization or… annoyance?

You stood there awkwardly, not sure how to look at him or what the hell to say. MAYBE A SMILE?

“Sarah let you in?” It was more of a statement than a question.

And now that he was on the same level as you, you could smell his aftershave—fresh, clean, stupidly good—and holy shit, was that the post-pump from his workout still lingering in his biceps?

Unsure if his irritated tone was directed at you or his sister, you just nodded. “She said I could wait here. Hope that’s not a problem or anything…”

Rafe barely lifted a brow, exhaling a small amused scoff as he eyed the bench for a second. “Nah but you could’ve also sat down in the living room.”

???

“It's fine,” you said, forcing an awkward smile. “And the bench is actually comfier than it looks.”

Cringe.

This whole situation felt wrong, and his weirdly tense vibe wasn’t helping.

And something about the way he was looking at you made you think he knew exactly how uncomfortable you felt. His gaze bore into you before he spoke again, irritation lacing his voice. “What? Did she make a stupid comment?”

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, already feeling the heat creeping up your face. “She just said hi and left right after.”

Rafe eyed you like he didn’t quite believe you. Then his mouth twisted into an irritated smile, and he shook his head, muttering more to himself than to you. “She’s always sticking her nose in shit that’s none of her business.”

Okaaay, so he and Sarah weren’t exactly on the best terms.

You figured his mood probably had more to do with her than with you. (Thumbs up for that realization and for not spiraling over it. Yay.)

"I didn’t mind talking to her," you said with what you hoped was an understanding smile. "She seems nice."

That seemed to amuse Rafe. His brows lifted, a smirk playing on his lips. "You thought Kelce was 'nice' too. Remind me to never trust your judgment of people."

Your mouth fell open in mock offense, before you let out an amused chuckle. "And who, in your expert opinion, is actually worthy of being called 'nice'? You?"

GIRL. WHAT.

But Rafe just scoffed, shaking his head in amusement. "Shit, no. But you can’t go around calling every person you meet 'nice.'"

"If that’s the impression I get, then yeah, I can," you shot back with a shrug, oddly comfortable in this little banter.

"Okay." Rafe tilted his chin up slightly, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "Then what’s your impression of me? And don’t tell me 'nice'."

Oh, fuck. You really should’ve seen that coming.

And the heat rising in your face? Yeah, there was no stopping that.

So what the hell were you supposed to say? My impression of you? Hmm, let’s ask my eleven-year-old self when she saw you on the first day of school—loud, annoying, and immediately decided she was gonna marry you one day.

MHM. SHOVING THAT THOUGHT AWAY.

"Um…" You started, wanting to shrink into yourself like a snail retreating into its shell. "You’re…" Cute? Handsome? Hot?? Complicated? Moody? "Blunt," you finally settled on.

Rafe let out something close to a chuckle.

And then, like the words were right there on the tip of your tongue, like you physically couldn’t stop yourself, like it was something you wanted him to hear, you added, "And more considerate than you probably think."

For the first time ever in the history of your interactions (which, to be fair, could be counted on one hand), it was Rafe who looked genuinely caught off guard.

Not subtly, either—no, he was visibly thrown off.

You saw it in the way his lips twitched, like he was about to smirk, about to brush it off or deflect somehow.

But for some reason, his delayed reaction gave you the push to keep going.

"I mean, one doesn’t cancel out the other," you said with a sheepish smile, already regretting your choice. "And obviously… I mean it’s kind of obvious that I… well, I’m not the most extroverted person."

You let out a nervous laugh, unsure why you even started this, but it was too late to back out now.

"I overthink things a lot which makes me kind of awkward in situations I’m not used to. I mean, I’m not socially incompetent or anything, but… what I’m trying to say is, I—well, you—you have this way of making it feel like I’m not embarrassing myself as much." Another nervous laugh. Please stop talking.

"Maybe you do it subconsciously, or maybe it’s intentional, but…" You got this girl, keep going. "I just wanted to say I ... appreciate it. That you don’t make a big deal out of things, I mean. Like this morning."

You tilted your head slightly, and—GIRL—was that a hint of playfulness in your tone? "Which, by the way, could technically be considered nice."

Wow, two big-ass speeches in one day— and then THESE?!

And as much as you felt the cringe creeping up your neck, it did feel good having said this. Because fuck yeah, you were in fact grateful for how he handled your awkward behavior without making it seem like his interactions with you were forced. Plus his blunt and deflecting responses somehow helped to pull you out of your head.

And the fact that you even felt comfortable enough to say something like that to him, despite how incredibly cheesy and cringe it was, and even though he was probably thinking, What the actual fuck? Why didn’t I just drop this class? And what is wrong with this girl?!

That was like a badge of honor coming from an introvert.

And Rafe? He had already looked speechless after your first little monologue this morning, but now? Poor guy seemed completely lost like he had no idea whether you were messing with him or being dead serious. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out how the fuck you had gone from shy silence to this.

THIS IS HOW I FEEL EVERY DAMN TIME, you wanted to say, but you were so caught up in your own embarrassment that you just stared at him in silence.

But then, he seemed to snap out of it. A wide grin spread across his face, and you already knew you weren’t going to like what he was about to say. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

The color drained from your face as you quickly shook your head. "What? No, that's—I'm being serious."

Rafe pulled the towel from around his shoulders and tilted his head, amusement clear in his expression. "One doesn’t rule out the other, does it?"

OH. MY. GOD.

"I..." But the words were stuck in your throat, embarrassment probably written all over your face.

And then he even had the nerve to raise his brows as if he was genuinely awaiting a response. However, that look was quickly replaced by a cocky smirk when it was clear that you were incapable of doing so.

"Aight, I'd say I'll grab some food and then we continue our shitty project", he said, eyeing you with amusement. "Unless you feel like continuing your little appreciation speech about me.”

I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE.

Your cheeks burned, blood rushing in your ears, and—shit, really—you should probably be annoyed or pissed that, for the second time today, he had dodged your emotional confession and twisted it in a way that played into his hands.

But then again, that was exactly the conclusion you had just come to: He didn’t make a big deal out of things like this.

And that was precisely what you'd learned to like about him.

Besides, your mind was still too focused on his initial reaction. Yeah, at first, he had looked surprised and overwhelmed but for that one moment—just one—you had managed to flip the dynamic.

And hey, some might have even called Rafe Cameron’s stunned expression at that moment—the boyish shock, the unexpected softness in his features—flustered.

And THAT? That was an entirely different kind of ego boost.

Still, all you could do was frown with burning cheeks, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Rafe nodded. “Thought so.” Then, still wearing that smug smile, he jerked his head toward the door on the left side of the entrance. “Come on, we still gotta get shit done today.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M If you're only interested in this series, it's enough to drop a comment, no need to fill out the form

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm

[elssero]

Can we get a part 2 to best friends big sister, cuz that was the shit

yes u definitely can !!

best friends big sister part 2

i.midoriya

♰ nsfw/suggestive, more sub!izuku + a little angst, fluff.

part1

watching izuku and his mother leave your family home puts a weird feeling in your chest, you’ll miss him you think.

you recall the events of the night when you entire your room. you smile slightly as you look at your bed- the dip he left in your covers still evident.

deciding to shower in the morning you change into something more comfortable- your distracted by a buzz from your phone and you pick it up, already having a good idea about who it could be.

it’s izuku of course- letting you know that they got home save and thanking you for the night, it’s innocent enough. reading the message you don’t find any undertones and you sigh in relief-

your not allowed peace for too long before your interrupted by a knock on your door. it’s katsuki- you can tell by the volume of his knocks that he’s in a bad mood. you let him in anyway.

he glances around your room for a second, almost as if looking for something and when he doesn’t find whatever it is he starts to speak.

“you gna’ tell me what the fuck tonight was with that nerd?” you’d laugh at his childish nickname if his voice wasn’t laced with so much venom- he’s angry, in fact you haven’t seen him this angry since he was a teenage.

“i have absolutely no idea what your talking about kats” you try and sound sincere but to katsuki it just comes off as mocking- something happened tonight and he knows it. not only have you snuck around with one of his friends your also lying about.

“don’t fuckin’ lie to me-” he cuts himself off. he knows that there’s no way your going to be honest with him if he’s this angry at you- he can’t blame you. deciding to take a different route he begins again. “m’ not gna’ be angry at you i just- fuck i just need you to be honest with me.”

you stare at him for a moment- going over your options you decide you have two. the first being is being honest with him- telling him exactly in not so many details that you slept his izuku during a family dinner. the second being to deny deny deny.

“kats i swear-“ your cut off again by another buzz of your phone- both of your eyes snap down to your phone, he can’t quite read the name but you can. the conatct “izuku :p” now staring back at you.

“who the fuck is texting you at this time” he says it absentmindedly at first before his face quickly changes into one of rage again. “it’s fuckin’ him isn’t it.”

you don’t reply to him- face still staring down at your screen. you know your caught- he’s going to reach down for your phone any second and he’s far too fast for you to stop him- you can only hope izuku’s second message is as innocent as his first.

just as you predicted he lunges for your phone- turning it to face you as he unlocks it with your face id- he reads the first message aloud, slowing down at the end as he realises izuku is just being nice.

he stops abruptly after that- reading the second message in his head before saying it aloud, his voice dripping with the same venom from before.

“what the fuck does he mean by the ‘other thing’ and what the actual fuck does he mean by next time.”

oh shit.

izuku is still in a state of shock as your door closes- he almost skips home that night. wide smile on his face as he walks hand held with his mothers as he guides her home in her drunken state.

unlocking their apartment door he immediately sends his mother to bed- she doesn’t protest much, apart from telling him he’s no fun and sending him a goodnight.

the boy is nearly floating as he gets ready for bed- eager to message you a well deserved thank you.

he studies his first message- deciding to keep it light, it’s very late now and he’s aware you might even be asleep, deciding he doesn’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning with some sort of sext from him.

you read it immediately and his smile grows wider- he awaits your reply, excited to begin another conversation with you as if he hasn’t been sat hand in yours for the past couple of hours.

the cheerful reply he was hoping for doesn’t come. infact no reply comes at all and suddenly there’s a pit in his stomach.

he gives you a couple of minutes before he can’t contain himself anymore and sends you another- his face going bright red as he types it- deleting and rewriting it a couple times before he hastily presses send before he can doubt himself anymore.

it’s nothing crazy- not by your standards but to him it’s the single most suggestive? thing he’s ever sent to a girl and he’s freaking the fuck out.

izuku :p: i also wanted to thank you for the other thing…i really enjoyed it. i had a really good time with you tonight. if you were serious about there being a next time im free next weekend.❤️

you snatch your phone from katsuki’s hand to read the message yourself- you curse midoriya for being so sweet because you can’t help the fact the panic falls from your face as you reach the end of the message- instead being replaced by a small smile on your face.

“so you did fuck him.” your snapped back to reality by the rough sound of your brothers voice. he doesn’t sound angry anymore- instead it’s replaced by hurt.

you should’ve known izuku was completely off limits, you think a small part of you did know, only making the guilt you feel for betraying your brothers trust even stronger.

“m’ sorry kats-” he doesn’t respond. instead turning on his heel as he leaves your room in lightening speed- nearly taking your door off its hinges at the power he uses to slam it.

izuku’s message is left unreplied as you slip into your bed after watching your brother leave- you know better than to follow him as he is now. you’ll talk about it later when your both in better headspaces.

class the next day is hell for both boys- katsuki arrives early as always. settling into his desk as he listens to his idiot friends talk his ear off about their weekends. he’d quite like to ignore the events of his own weekend but his dream is cut short when he watches izuku stumble into the door.

he looks more tired than usual- somehow managing to appear even more nervous than he normally does. bakugo watches as the other boy attempts to quickly make his way to his desk without being interrupted.

“hey midoriya my man!” its kaminari who’s the first to speak to the boy “heard you had dinner at bakugos this weekend- you see his sister?” katsuki’s eyes roll as midoriya’s face flushes- it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

he can’t even form a response to denki’s question as imagines of the night before flash in his mind. he takes a quick, guilty look at bakugo before ultimately turning away from his friends and hiding in his chair.

he’s stressed. infact he’s beyond stressed. you didn’t reply to either of his messages last night despite seeing them both. he’s contemplated sending you another every second he’s been awake but ultimately decides against it, he’s giving you time.

the boys spend the rest of the day ignoring each other- well bakugo ignores the other and midoriya thanks the gods everytime he watches the blonde practically run away from him.

it’s not until their journey home when the boys are finally alone- no more corners to turn away at, no more walls to hide behind.

“um- hi kacchan..” he doesn’t know what else to say- it’s not exactly like he can come straight out and ask his friend why his sister is ignoring him after they slept together in his house. at his family dinner.

bakugo takes his time replying- trying his hardest to hold himself back from pummelling the shorter boy into the ground.

“you slept with my sister.” oh. so that’s why you haven’t spoken to him. bakugo knows. he’s known the entire time. he’s known since he watched you two leave the dinner table last night.

“i’m sorry kacchan- i don’t know how it happened i promise i didn’t mean too-”

“god will everyone stop fucking saying that?” he’s angry- but it’s more than that. midoriya recognises it immediately- he’s hurt.

“if you two were so fuckin’ sorry it wouldn’t have happened in the first place” he’s right and midoriya knows he’s right. the guilt he feels currently is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“but it did happen. so know i wanna know what you plan to do about it.” the shorter boy looks at the boy in bewilderment- what he plans to do about it? he thinks about it deeply.

he’s already came to the conclusion that it couldn’t have been as big of a deal to you as it was to him. it wasn’t your first time and it certainly wasn’t the case that you had been borderline inlove with him since you were six. you didn’t feel the same.

“i guess- i um. i really don’t know. i just kinda thought id let her do what she wanted.” there’s a small hint of pain in his voice as he says it. “take whatever i can get i guess.”

bakugo studies the boy for a second. truly wishing his suspensions about his friends feelings for you had been overdramatised in his head.

they aren’t though. midoriya is completely and utterly smitten by you and he has been for as long as he can remember. bakugo lets out a long sigh before he admits something.

“my sister doesn’t just sleep with anyone y’know” suddenly the other boys eyes snap to his- “shut up- don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.”

“i know what your thinking alright? that last night wasn’t serious for her- or that she doesn’t actually feel anything for you-” he curses at himself- how has he found himself helping stupid fuckin’ deku get with his stupid fuckin’ sister.

“but that’s not true- you know how everyone thinks about her- fuck you heard denki this morning-” both boys grimace slightly at the memory of denki blabbering about how he would do anything to share a mealtime with you.

“but she’s never slept with any of them- not a single one of my friends before. she flirts yeah but she always draws the line.” he doesn’t understand it fully- when you could’ve had any of them, you could’ve had kirishima or sero- god even denki would’ve been better than the boy standing next to him.

“i don’t know what it is about you that made her cross that line but it’s gotta’ be somethin’.”

midoriya looks at bakugo in amazement. he doesn’t say it openly but he knows the boy walking next to him well enough to know he’s giving permission. that in his own weird way he’s urging the midoriya to give you it a proper chance.

“i have plans with shitty hair for the next couple of hours- my parents are away so it should be you two.” midoriya is even more shocked now? he wants him to go see you? now?? alone??

“god- stop lookin’ at me like that- i didnt mean it like that. i meant to talk to her for fucks sake.” oh that makes more sense.

it doesn’t take much convincing- midoriyas quickly finds himself practically running to your house following a quick shout of a thanks to his childhood friend as he makes his way to you.

the knock on your door is impossible to ignore- forcing you out of bed to open it. you haven’t moved much, allowing yourself a day to wallow in self pity before continuing with your life.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t though of izuku all day. you thought of his face- of his stupid smile- of the stupid way he looks at you as if you constantly have some sort of halo above your head.

your completely shocked to find the boy you’d just been thinking about standing in your doorway- he’s panting heavily. it’s clear that he’s catching his breath from the sheer speed he used to make his way to your home.

“what are you doing here?” it’s a simple question but you know the answer is a lot more complicated than you’d like.

“i just- i had to see you.” still catching his breath as he replies- he’s looking directly at you- the expression on his face is one you would use if you hadn’t seen the person in front of you in years. it does kind of feel like that.

“and- i had to do this.” his lips crash on to yours before you can question his next move. he’s eager- he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again, he thinks that maybe he won’t.

he savours every moment, every move of your tongue, every feel of your touch.

you break the kiss as you pull him inside- slamming the door behind you as your corner the boy against it-

“talk.” he squeaks at the sound of your voice- it’s harsh, powerful. he doesn’t quite know what to say? god why didn’t he think of this on the way over? he doesn’t have the time to reprimand himself for being stupid right now so instead he says the only thing he’s thought of when he looks at you for years.

“i love you.” it’s quiet when you hear it, you can’t tell if his volume is really that low or if your head has muffled all sound coming from his mouth.

“you do?” it’s a whisper as it leaves your voice- your not an idiot, you know the boy infront of you has been pining over you since you were kids. you just didn’t know how serious it was for him.

“i- i do. with everything in me i do. i think i always have.” you remain silent. fully taking in the weight of his words. it’s clear as day now that you think about it- you can’t believe you brushed off how he felt to a stupid crush.

your gaze is unwavering as you scan his face- inspecting it for any hint of regret. you don’t find it- instead you find him looking at you with nothing but love.

you kiss him again- moving so harshly against him that his back collides with the door behind him as he scrambles too kiss you back.

the kiss is impatient. as though every moment you’ve ever spent together as been leading up to this moment- it doesn’t compare to yesterday- not now that you know the truth.

his hands explore your body in ways they didn’t yesterday- he’s holding you so tight you think it might leave marks- not that you mind.

you try not to break the kiss as the pair of you messily clamber your way though your house and into your bedroom.

he’s already submitted to you as you move to remove the shirt that’s restricting your access to him- finally removing your lips from his as you slide it over his head- taking a minute to admire his physique.

he’s big- a lot bigger than you anyway- excitement fills your stomach as you struggle to remove your own clothing from your body.

your braless- he didn’t notice it before but he definitely does now, he can’t take his eyes away from your bare chest infront of him as he dips down without thinking.

you feel his mouth on your tits in an instant as he kisses them- light feathery touches changing into hard sucks in a matter of seconds- now your certain he’s leaving marks.

he laps at your chest over and over- you can’t help the slight gasp you realise when he sucks down on your nipple- he looks up at you wide eyed following the noise you let escape before he’s crashing down on your tits- continuing his attack.

you grab a handful of his hair in order to stop him- forcing him to look at you- his eyes meet yours with a look of carnality, pulling him into another kiss as you fumble with the buttons on his trousers.

“fuck, i-" your breathless, his face is flushed and his pupils blown. "need you inside, need to feel you." he replies with a groan.

you each clumsily remove your pants as your faces touch, both of your mouths agape as you practically breathe the same air.

his brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his stomach as it’s released from its confines.

you don’t waste anytime situating yourself on top of him, grabbing his dick as you move it against the outside of your pussy, pressing it against your clit as your head falls back in a moan.

“oh- oh fuck s-stop teasing ohmygod please put it in- oh pleaseplease”

he’s moaning so pretty as you give in and slide him into you, allowing your weight to fall on him as you sink as low onto him as you can. he’s already a mess under you- babbling out thank yous. it turns you on so much seeing how desperate he is for you. already addicted to your pussy and the way it sucks him like a vice.

“f-feels soso good ngh fuck- don’t ever want another pussy- only you- only ever been you-” you giggle at his praise- beginning to roll yourself down on him.

you have him exactly where you want him- where you’ve wanted him since the second he walked into your kitchen weeks ago-

you’ve never quite felt desire like this before, sure you’ve had sex but this is different, it feels almost biological- like he was made for you.

your thoughts are cut off when he cries out from beneath you- “oh- f-fuck m’ gonna cum- wanna cum for you so bad!” oh lord. you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth as they go straight to the heat in your abdomen.

“you wanna cum for me baby?” your egging him on- as though you know exactly what to say to put him on the edge of his realise- “yesyesyes please- can i? can i come for you please-”

gasps and whimpers falling from izuku's parted lips as his head is thrown back. was all sex this good??

“cum for me zuku’” and he lets go on command, cumming inside as soon as you tell him too. his parted lips as his voice rings out your name and his hips jump instinctively with every bounce you make.

your movements don’t falter as he orgasms- keeping a steady pace as you ride it out. it’s not long before he’s making noise again- begging below you.

“w-wait ! s’too much!” his thighs are shaking below you- his whole body straining as he attempts to keep himself together- he’s failing miserably.

a flow of whines and moans leave his mouth and he continues on about how you feel too good- how it’s too much for him.

“you can give me another right izuku?” his eyes close tightly shut as he feels your pace increase- he knows it’s coming- he nods quickly.

this feeling of overstimulation is foreign to the boy, he’s so used to just getting it over with that he’s never gave himself the time to feel this good.

“cum in my pussy again zuku i need it-” he lets out a cry when he cums for the second time- physically lifting you off of him as his dick twitches-

you watch as the cum shoots from his tip landing on his chest with a heavy sigh-

your thighs move together instinctively and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by izuku who is now looking at you lazily.

“you didn’t cum.” he sounds dejected as he says it- you don’t want him to feel bad- it’s harder for you-

“no i didn’t. but it’s okay i promise sometimes it takes awhile-” you smile at him as you say it in an attempt to make him feel better. he’s pouty.

“wanna’ make you feel good.” you giggle at him- he moves his hands to the inside of your thighs and pulls your legs apart- giving him a full few of your cum dripping pussy.

he lets out a whimper at the sight- head dropping towards your core- he approaches fast- nose hitting your clit as he takes a deep breath in-

“izuku it’s okay u don’t have too.” you move your hand in his hair comfortingly- not wanting him to feel pressured.

“you said i could last time- you promised” when you think back on it you don’t quite remember using the word “promise” but your not given the time to confirm it before his tongue leaves his mouth and licks your slit.

he eats you out like he’s starved- it’s sloppy, clear as day that he’s never done this before but it feels so good- your in awe at the boy situated under you, watching him as he moved impossibly deeper into your pussy.

your breath hitches as he sucks down ok your clit- a loud moaning leaving your lips as your head falls back. he groans into you when he hears the noise escape your lips as he begins eagerly sucking on that same spot.

he’s murmuring sweet nothings into you as he continues- “tastes so good- f-fuck you taste so good.” your mouth is fully agape now- unable to to hold in your groans.

“y-yeah? my pussy taste good baby? ngh- you wanna make me cum?-” he nods into your pussy in reply- sucking down even harder when he hears your words.

your back uncontrollably arches as he continues- his pace unfaltering as your thighs squeeze around his head- the action only drawing a whine from the boy situated between them.

his hands are wrapped around them- his hands digging into the softness of your thighs as he holds them apart- allowing himself full access to you.

“oh f-fuck- your doing so well zuku- gna’ make me cum baby-” your cut off as a whine of your own escapes your lips.

he’s drowning in your pussy as you finally cum- he’s whispering out thank yous as you finish in his mouth.

your catching your breath as your attempting to pull him up towards you- forcing him face to face with you.

you don’t exchange words as you manoeuvre your way under your covers- taking his hand in yours as you guide him to lay down beside you.

you pull his head to your bare chest as he lays down on you- eyes shutting as he lets out a comfortable but sleepy sigh.

he begins another whisper- “i’m sorry if this ruins the moment but- what does this mean?” his eyes are opened again now as he looks up at you- fearful of rejection.

“we’ll work it out- but um- i don’t want this to stop and uh- i’d like to spend more time with you iguess.” he nearly giggles at how much you remind him of your brother in this moment- struggling to put into words how you truly feel as you hope the boy will understand.

he does- of course he does. not feeling a need to reply he doesn’t as he cuddles into you, easily drifting to sleep as he finds much needed comfort in your body.

it’s hours later when you find yourself now fully clothed in your kitchen again- taking leftovers out of your fridge as you hear the opening of your door.

you poke your head round the corner to reveal katsuki- you give him a soft smile as he makes his way over to you after shuffling out of his shoes.

“the nerd upstairs?” your smile goes even softer as you tell him yes. he returns your smile now- except his is a lot more teasing than yours is.

“so- uh how’d it go?” bakugo would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested- hoping to god that it went well as he grimaces at the thought of watching izuku sulk forever as he did today.

“we worked it out.” is all the reply you give- all the reply he needs, an identical now softer smile grazing his lips as he nods at you.

“you’ll work it out-” he pauses slightly before continuing- wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder before he continues “m’ sure you will”

the end? idk i quite like the ending of this being a little ambiguous, i might make a little drabble of your parents finding out about ur relationship with izuku but im undecided.

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART FIFTEEN)

Spring finally hit, and it was a perfect Sunday afternoon for a ball game. I'd taken Evan and Keith to see the city's major league team. It was some overdue bonding time with my sons, and I felt the need to put in some Dad time with Evan particularly, who had entered his moody phase. Ever since I'd announced my relationship with Junior, my third son had seemed more distant.

He was in a better mood that day. "So, Dad..." he said between the third and fourth inning. "I want to start working out. For real."

This didn't totally surprise me. Both Ev and Keith were into sports, just about any sport, but particularly football. Both played in the 13U Pop Warner league, and Evan looked forward to joining the middle school team in the Fall.

I was about to give a more cautious response, but I was in a good mood. "I guess your Daddy and I can show you around the weight room," I said. "You could join me after school," I offered. Then adding my Dad talk, I said, "As long as you keep up with your homework."

Evan smiled, probably the first real smile I'd seen from him in a month. "Yes, Dad. That'd be awesome."

"I wanna do it too," Keith piped in. He definitely had little brother syndrome and always had to be doing what Evan was doing.

Now was time for the cautious approach. "I can show you some form, Keith, but you're not using weights till you're older, OK?"

Jesus, my other kid was gonna get sulky. "I bet Daddy would let me work out with him."

"Your Daddy is with me on this, Bruiser," I said. I had a different nickname for each son, and I was worried I was going to run out of fresh ones once the triplets came. I tried to be conciliatory. "You can join me and Ev, but I don't want either one of you injuring yourself while you're still growing."

An inning later, my phone buzzed. It was Braden. "How's the game?"

"We're losing, 3-1," I typed back. "But the boys are having a good time."

"Junior and I are having a real good time, too," came the text.

Goddamnit, don't get hard here, Bill, I told myself. Braden and Junior had gone to the Fiedlers for the first cross-family foursome. I'd been dying to go, but there was no way to make that happen without Evan and Keith feeling left out of something they didn't understand.

So here I was putting in Dad time while Brade and Junior were having sex with the Fiedlers. While Todd's dad, Adam, was now up in Ithaca living with his son-boyfriend, Jon, both were back in town for Jon's spring break, joining the eldest son Andrew who was also back home from college.

"I want a full report, Son," I wrote back.

"Of course, Dad." Then I got a follow up message. "Junior is quite the stud."

I slipped my phone back into my shorts.

***

Braden filled me in that night in bed. He felt very drained sexually, and I think a little sore. Every Fiedler man had apparently been inside my son.

Even as he told me, lying back naked in bed, his big muscle body seeming bigger with the hint of a baby bump now showing, he seemed excited.

"Thanks for letting me go, Dad. I guess I've been feeling that need to play."

I ran my hand over his stomach. If Brade was getting bigger there already, the triplets pregnancy was going make him get big, fast. "I'm glad you could have your fun, buddy. I'm not there for you enough."

He knew what I meant. "Cmon, Dad. We're figuring this out. Even if you weren't with Junior, I'd still get horny sometimes."

"Well I've started taking those pills," I grinned.

That made Brade laugh. "Yeah? They working?"

I nodded. "Some days more than others. Hard to predict. But I'll feel this total rush and get rock hard." I nodded down at my boner as if to illustrate.

"Nice," Braden said reaching over to caress my boner with his fingers. He was definitely more in a soft exploration mood rather than a let's have sex mood. It was great, but also driving me crazy a little. "Both the Fiedler dads are taking them. It was really hot."

We kissed. Softer than I wanted, but that day was all about Braden, not me. I had felt a moment of jealousy but ultimately I was glad he'd enjoyed himself.

My son-husband pulled back and rested his head on my chest. I stroke the soft bristle of his hair and wondered how I ended up to be so lucky to have a son like Braden, my life partner.

"How you feeling about Junior, Dad?" he asked softly.

"He's 18," I replied. "He needs to sow his oats."

"Bill's a natural, Dad," Braden said. His hand was still on my prick, not outright stroking it but moving up and down in a very sensual way. I was getting surprisingly worked up from his touch.

"Yeah?" I asked.

He nodded. "I mean, I knew he can top, but watching him in action... he fucked every single guy there."

My dick jerked at that. "Even Todd?" I knew my buddy had bottomed a couple of times for Andrew, but generally preferred top bunk.

"Especially Todd," Braden said. "I'm not trying to make you jealous, Dad, but there was clearly a lot of pent up sexual tension there."

I knew what he meant. The flirtatious talk between me and Todd Fiedler, the way the doctor eyed up Junior on our golf outings, just like I'd eyed up his boys.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Braden asked, finally looking up at me.

I shook my head. "I have to have a relationship talk with Junior, that's all. But I'm lucky to have two very sexual sons."

Braden smiled. "I'm too tired for fucking, Dad. OK if I suck you off?"

I spread my legs. "More than OK, buddy."

Braden scooted his head down and began licking my cock. Taking a more exploratory approach. Up and down from my balls to my tip. I was so hard from the sex talk and from imagining Brade and Junior hooking up with the Fiedler men.

Finally my son started swallowing my dick, slowly sucking me. Lovingly, even. I let him control the pace and enjoyed the slow build up.

"Brade!" I finally gasped. "I'm close, son." My cock felt completely alive and super sensitive, responding to every movement of his mouth on me.

I curled my fingers in his buzzcut and fired off. Brade gladly gulped me down.

****

The workweek hit hard. We had a new routine. I'd head off to work early while Brade and Junior had their workout. Junior would drive Keith and Evan to school, and I'd pick them up.

When we got home, I gave Brade a welcome home kiss, but he was occupied with watching the twins and making dinner. That Monday, I asked Evan and Keith to get changed and join me in the basement home gym. Braden would probably be a better personal trainer, but the boys would have to make do with me. It was fun, though, and reinvigorating to get a work out in with them, showing them different exercises along the way.

Both the boys were in a great mood over dinner. And Evan even went and did his homework after, like I'd asked. Junior excused himself to do the same.

"I can't wait to grow up," Keith said as the rest of my sons sat around the dinner while I started cleaning up.

"That just means more chores and more homework, Bruiser."

Keith seemed to think it over. "Yeah, I guess."

Braden laughed. "You wanna help me put your little brothers to bed?" he asked Keith.

"Sure."

The twins were barely walking but with some help, they did a good job. Keith held on to one hand each and slowly walked them back down the hall.

"You good here, Dad?" Braden asked.

"I got this," I said. "Though I'm dreading the number of dishes to clean once the triplets are here."

"Who's fault is that?" Braden teased.

"I'll gladly take responsibility," I said.

Brade gave me a quick peck. "You still sleeping with Junior tonight?" he asked.

I looked into my son's brown eyes. "If that's still OK with you, buddy. And if Junior's up for it." This would be a big step. Me sleeping in Junior's room for the first time.

"He'll be up for it, Dad. I guarantee."

"He seemed quiet tonight," I observed.

Braden patted my arm. "Let him sleep in tomorrow. It's OK if he misses a workout." My son-husband definitely brought the optimism in our relationship, whereas I was the worrier.

With that, he walked off to go read to the twins.

I felt a hardon coming on. A chub at first, then a full on boner in my slacks. I'd chalk it up to those pills, but I think it was actually the excitement of overnighting with Junior.

I cleaned up and set aside the dish towel. I walked down the hall and knocked on Junior's door, which was ajar.

"Hey kiddo," I said, stepping in.

Junior was in his books. He looked so handsome in his golf attire, barefoot and wearing his ball cap at his desk. "Hey Dad," he said. He had a nervous look on his face.

I shut the door behind me. "What's wrong, kiddo? You didn't knock up another guy, did you?" I asked in a teasing voice.

"No, sir," he laughed. "I wish."

I nodded down at his books. "Still got a lot more work to do?"

Junior shook his head. "I'm pretty much done. Just trying to get a head start on the week, you know?"

I stepped up and placed my hand on his shoulder. "I wanted to see if I could sleep here tonight?"

"God yeah, Dad," came the immediate reply. "You're not in the dog house are you?"

I chuckled. "No. Things are all good with me and your Daddy. Just want some time with my boyfriend." I reached down and removed his ball cap, placing it on his desk.

Junior was very eager the kiss as I leaned down. We tapped tongues and explored each other's mouths gently. Bill Jr. was getting some real kissing technique down.

"I can give you some time and come back later," I offered.

"Whatever, Dad," Junior replied. He leaned back in his chair and I could see he was boned up. He stood up and we kissed some more.

"I should probably shower up," he said.

"Maybe I can join you, kiddo," I growled into his lips.

"Fuck yeah."

We slowly stripped each other off. Enjoying our nakedness. I followed Junior into the adjoining bathroom, both our dicks rock hard.

This was another first for us. Junior starting the shower and me stepping in next to him.

"Your Daddy isn't into shower sex," I said.

"Really?" he said. "This has been a dream of mine forever, Dad," Junior said, openly sudsing my chest and arms before I took the soap and did the same for him.

We kissed under the shower spray and I could feel my son's cock press against mine, battling it like clashing swords.

"Turn around," I said softly. I took my time soaping Junior's strong back. His body was responding really well to the workouts and a naughty idea wondered if Evan and Keith would respond to their workouts as well. I put that thought aside, though and set down the soap.

Junior wasn't expecting it, but once I crouched down and parted his cheeks, he grew excited. "Fuck yes, Dad. Taste my hole."

I licked my son's pucker and then ate him out more fervently. Junior braced himself on the tile wall and let me munch away.

"I could cum like this, Dad," he moaned.

"You should, Son," I said. pulling back and kneading his cheeks before I dove back in.

We both had a mission now. Me to rim Junior to an intense orgasm, and Junior to get off. It took thirty seconds for that to happen. I loved feeling his buns clench around my face and his tasting his hole spasm as he fired several ropes onto the shower wall.

"Attaboy," I grunted, leaning back to take a final look of his ass.

I stood up and claimed a hot kiss from my boyfriend-son. We finally turned off the water. It took Junior a second to realize I was still rock hard. "You didn't get off, Dad?"

"Un unh. Cut cocks can use a little lubrication."

Junior nodded and then crouched down in front of me. I felt him start to suck me. He was getting better at this, and I wondered if Brade had been giving him tips. Teaching him how to service his own father. The idea had me cumming.

My son got some nonverbal grunts for warning and then was being fed a healthy load.

We were almost laughing as we dried off.

"That was fun as hell, Dad," Junior said. We got into Junior's bed. A queen sized mattress, it wasn't as cumfy as the marital bed I shared with Braden, but I enjoyed snuggling next to him. Kissing, making out. Feeling naked with Junior.

"Thanks for this, Dad," he said.

"You don't gotta thank me, Junior," I said. "I enjoy this as much."

He took that in. Like he almost couldn't believe it. "I take it Daddy told you about yesterday." That nervousness was coming back.

"He did," I said. "You had fun?" The way Brade had described the Fiedler orgy, he made it sound like Junior was on cloud nine, and now I worried he hadn't been into it.

"A little too much," he said. "I thought you might be mad."

I patted his back. "I would have been doing the same thing as you if I'd been there," I assured him.

His smile came back. "I told those guys you're the only man who fucks me."

"Yeah, bud?" I asked. We hadn't talked much about that. I guess I'd assumed Junior would go on to enjoy it with other men.

My son nodded. "You're the only man who ever will, Dad. Honest."

My dick grew hard against him. OK, those pills could work their magic.

"You like that," he observed.

I used my free hand to stroke his cheek. "I'm definitely flattered. And, yeah, turned on."

"It only feels right if it's my own father," he said. I could feel his own prick plumping against mine.

We kissed now. Classic French Kiss. Just the right speed as we caressed each other's bodies and rolled around his bed some. Finally, I'd claimed the position on top of him. And when I pulled back I saw that look in Junior's eyes. Ready.

I reached over to his nightstand and fumbled for the lube.

"I love you, kiddo," I said as I fingered his hole with the lube, slowly at first.

"Love you, Dad. Fuck, it's wild I'm dating my father."

I grinned and added a finger. "You can tell me if it ever doesn't feel right," I said.

"I'm learning to relax down there, Dad," Junior replied.

I shook my head. "I meant the dating part. If you ever want to go out on your own, date other men."

"God, Dad. Fuck. I mean, even if I ever did, you're my main guy."

I worked in a third. "Yeah?" I asked with a horny edge. Junior's words were getting to me, emotionally and sexually.

"Fuck yeah, Dad. You got dibs."

I laughed at that. "In that case..." I said. I pulled my fingers out just as my prick lined up. The trick worked surprisingly well. Junior was getting smoothly fed his father's dick.

"Hell fucking yes. My dad's cock inside me."

"Where it belongs, son."

He nodded. I hit a deeper spot about five inches in. Junior was tighter there and he ran his hands over my upper body to get in the headspace to take me.

"You got this kiddo," I assured him.

"Yeah, Dad," he replied, almost to convince himself. But indeed after working my prick in very short thrusts against the tightness I felt my son's insides open up for me.

"YES!" we cried simultaneously.

"Fuck me, Dad," Junior urged, now holding on to my hips, to pull me into him.

I pumped him. Eyes locking on my hunky son's, my loving son's, as we mated. "Take your father, Junior. Take Dad's cock."

"Every damn day if you want, Sir."

"Fuck," I hissed. The idea was very hot.

"I know you got Daddy too. But I love having sex with you, Dad. So much."

"Me too, kiddo."

I leaned in and kissed. And fucked. Deeper and faster. Junior was horny beneath me, his hard cock against my abs. "Shit!" he gasped in horniness.

I stopped for a second, though it took a lot of willpower to do so. Junior watched wide-eyed as I pumped out some lube on his rock hard erection. I'd barely started pumping him again, when he started jerking off in sync with my thrusts.

"You're gonna fuck me off, Dad. Gonna me cum... so fucking hard... YES!"

Though he was feeling the sexual urgency now, it actually took a solid minute for that orgasm to build up. It was glorious to watch. I was feeling real fucking good, too, but right then I was focused on fucking the cum out of junior. Putting extra power in my thrusts. He was ready for it.

"Harder, Dad!" he said aloud.

I pounded with a new intensity. And Junior's face scrunched and cum flew out of his cock, all over his toned, athletic body. I huffed and enjoyed the sensation of his guts clenching, bringing me over the line into pure pleasure.

My body finally slowed and we pressed heads together, catching our breaths.

"I wish the Fiedlers could watch you fuck me like that, Dad," Junior finally said in sincerity. "That was incredible."

"I'll say." I gave him a kiss then finally slid out of him. After two cums, I was still hard, but I was definitely spent for the moment. I lay next to him and ran my fingers through the cum on his chest. "I didn't go too hard on ya, did I, kiddo?"

Junior shook his head. "I loved it, Dad." Then softly, "I want to get better at it."

"I don't think your father can handle 'better'," I replied.

Junior smiled. "Daddy says you like fucking hard."

I wanted to head this off at the pass. "I like fucking in a way my son enjoys," I said.

"I know," he grinned. "But maybe with poppers..." He was definitely feeling me out.

"You done poppers?" I asked in that Dad tone.

"No," he replied. "But I guess I see guys in porn do em."

"Real life isn't porn," I reminded him.

"I don't know, Dad..." Junior nodded down to our sweaty, cum-coated bodies. "That was a pretty fucking porn worthy fuck." He saw my hesitation. "Just think it over, OK?"

We showered off again and got back into bed. Holding each other naked and talking. Eventually we set the alarm and turned off the light.

As Braden suggested, I let Junior sleep in the next morning, though I rimmed him while he sucked me off. I came hard in his mouth then he leaned up and rode my mouth while he jerked off a matching load.

Once we'd orgasmed, we got out of bed and got ready.

"You good for taking your brothers to school?" I asked. We weren't running late, but we were cutting it close.

"For sure, Dad," Junior replied, slipping on his T-shirt. "And I don't have practice today so can pick them up too."

"That'd be great," I said. "I need to take Brade to his doctor's appointment."

"Everything healthy with Daddy?" he asked. Junior had always been fixated on Braden's pregnancies and now took on a protective attitude toward his daddy-brother.

"So far," I said. "But with triplets we gotta do regular check ups."

"Daddy's built tough, Dad," Junior said with a smile. "It's gonna go great."

I looked at my watch. "I gotta get dressed," I said. I wore my underwear, and had yesterdays' shirt and trousers in one arm. "But I had an amazing night last night, Son," I said.

"Me, too, Dad."

We gave each other a goodbye kiss.

****

The ice had definitely been broken between us and the Fiedlers. At the next golf outing, Todd said point blank over that first hole, "Your son's quite the cocksman, Bill."

I was caught off guard but this was our crude flirtatious thing just taken to a new level. "You're gonna inflate the boy's ego, Todd," I replied, looking over at Junior with a wink.

Junior puffed out his chest as he strode up to the tee. "What can I say, Dr. Fiedler? You guys inspired me." He focused on his line of sight then pulled the club back for a hard swing. The loud metal connected with a thwap sound and we watched the ball travel FAR, straight down the fairway. Junior was really a great player these days.

Sam patted my arm in a flirty way. "Was just sad you coudn't join, Mr. Drake. Maybe next time."

"I'd like that, Sam," I said. I was starting to chub up right then and there. There goes my score, I thought. No way was I going to be able to focus on my game.

Somehow, I got my mind back into golf, enjoying the talk with the Fiedlers and Junior. Talking sex, but also other family stuff. We actually got into a discussion about real estate and if there was any chance to grow Incest Acres. We decided it would have to be incest men only, or guys very open to incest.

Often Junior and I have sex after a golf outing, and sometimes a date. But when Todd suggested a group scene back at their pace, I was definitely intrigued.

"I know you want Braden there, Bill," he said. "But we can do just a suck scene. It's very hot."

I texted Braden to see if it would be OK and got a thumbs up. I knew he'd enjoy me recounting it later, and I could suck him for a change as payback.

I was hornier than I realized when we made it to the Fiedler house. I didn't know how this would go down, but Todd led us into the living room, where Sam sat next to his father. Junior sat next to me. I think my son knew what to do from last time, since he started kissing along my neck and feeling up my chest through my knit polo.

"Your boy's horny for his Dad," Todd hissed.

I wasn't surprised that Dr. Fiedler was a verbal man, but I was very glad.

"How about your, Son?" I asked. "You horny for your Dad, Sam?"

"God, yeah, Mr. Drake," Sam Fiedler answered. He was just shy of Junior's age and while he didn't have my son's build quite, he was trim and cute as fuck. "I can't get enough dad dick." Already he was pawing at Todd's crotch.

"How often you suck Bill Jr off?" Todd asked me, locking eyed on the incestuous couple in front of him.

"Once a week," I replied. "Probably should do it more."

Junior pulled back and kissed me.

"FUCK!" Todd Fiedler hissed. "Fucking incest."

I was now the one pushing things forward. I undid my shorts and pushed them down, then my underwear, so my hard cock was standing straight up.

"You're hung as fuck, Mr. Drake," came Sam's excited voice.

Junior laughed when he pulled back. He was pretty much my size and was used to guys being surprised at the Drake cock.

"That's my boyfriend you're talking about," Junior said.

"Damn," I heard Todd say. He was following my lead in removing his shorts. It was my first time seeing the Fiedler cock. He lacked my length but had some girth that made it seemed imposing.

Already Sam was on it. Leaning over his dad's lap and lapping away. Holding the base and going down on his father.

"Not gonna take me long, today," Todd said. "Hanging out with you guys." He looked down and softly muttered, "Suck me, son. Suck your dad."

Junior was getting turned on. He pulled my head into a kiss then went to kneel down on the floor between my legs.

This was extremely hot. Me watching Sam Fiedler suck his father while Junior sucked me. Watching Todd watch us and both fathers getting off on exhibitionism.

"I'm gonna cum, kiddo," I finally announced. I wanted to make this last, but Junior was good at sucking cock and I was all too worked up.

I probably would have enjoyed Todd have his orgasm, but Junior was standing up, flogging his uncut prick. Stepping up slightly to get closer. Before I could react, that piss slit opened up in a flutter and hot son cum fired out in a thick jet. Then another. Junior was painting my face in semen, and was turned on to watch that act.

It surprised me, but it was hot and fun, too. Something new. It wasn't like sex between me and Brade was stale, but Junior loved experimenting in a way Braden usually didn't. They both had their place in my life.

I leaned in and latched my mouth over the tip of Junior's prick, tasting the dribbles.

Only after I came down did I feel embarrassed. My shirt was wet with Junior's seed and even after I rinsed off my face in the bathroom, I felt like maybe things had gone too far.

But the Fiedler men were on cloud nine. Todd and Sam had made themselves presentable and were all smiles. Todd's hand was on Sam's shoulder as he walked us to the door. "Thanks for that, guys. And Sam here definitely wants to take both you guys on."

"Oh yeah," Sam said. I got the sense his teen sex drive was pushing Todd to open things up even more than his other sons.

"That's be way hot," Junior said.

Todd paused. "Would a good bye kiss be too much to ask for?"

I shook my head. I stepped up to Todd. Talk about sexual tension. We kissed with a little tongue. Then more. "Nice," he whispered.

Junior was doing the same with Sam. Then we switched. Me kissing Sam Fiedler for the first time and feeling him practically suck my tongue into his mouth. Meanwhile, Junior was going heavier into the kiss with the DILF doctor.

"All right, Junior... we should get back."

We walked back to the house, Junior with a knowing smile on his face. "Come on, Dad, that was hot as fuck. Right?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

****

Braden found a side project. He had started a social media feed about men bearing kids. He'd done some posting with the twins, but that had been more of a hobby. Now that he was pregnant with twins, Brade went all in with the content. Daily posts: fitness and exercise while pregnant, nutrition, shirtless updates of his baby bump, reports from his doctor's visit. It became a viral sensation. And ad money was coming in. Real money.

Evan was helping him out. "He's really good with computers and video and stuff," Brade said. "I told him he'd get a small percentage of the cut for his allowance." I was glad Ev was into the little brothers coming along the way.

I spend more looking after Keith, hanging out with him. I loved being that Dad for him, throwing the football in the backyard, watching his little league games, or taking him out for ice cream afterward.

We were driving home from one of his games, when he got quiet. "Dad.... when is my body going to change?" I'd given him a couple of guy talks, about sex and puberty.

"It happens when it happens, Bruiser," I said. "You're getting impatient?" I asked. I wasn't sure where this question was coming from. But Keith wanted to copy everything Evan did.

"Maybe," he said.

"I won't lie, son," I said. "It can be a wonderful experience. But it can also be scary, trying to figure out the changes when they come."

Keith seemed to hang on my every word. "Was it scary for you, Dad?"

"Totally scary," I said. "My body wanted one thing and my mind wanted something else."

"Wow," Keith said. I could tell he wanted to know more but wasn't going to pry into details.

"Just feel free to come to me or your Daddy if we can help, OK?"

"Yeah, Dad."

This was the fourth son I'd had to talk about sex with, and I wondered if it would get easier.

****

I was in my office one evening before dinner, trying to get some work done, when Junior came, knocking on the door.

"Dad?" he asked.

"Yeah, kiddo?" I said, pushing my chair back and gesturing for him to come in.

Junior had a folded paper in his hand. "I got this in the mail."

I had seen the envelope when I got home. An official looking mailing from Auburn. I'd been anxious waiting for my son to get home and open it.

"I got it," he said, with a shy, proud smile. "Full ride to Auburn."

I beamed. "Oh bud... that's amazing!" I stood up and walked over to hug my son. I clasped his back and then gave him a quick kiss. "So proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad." He wasn't as thrilled as I expected. "I'm gonna call em up and see if I can defer a year."

That caught me off guard. "Yeah? You sure?"

He nodded, and I could tell he'd been rehearsing what to tell me. "I've been thinking it over, Dad. With the triplets coming, you and Daddy could use all the help around the house you can get."

I gave him a look that said I was listening but not buying it. "I'm gonna miss you like hell when you go to college, Junior. You know that. But I don't want you to put college or any of your plans on hold because of us. We'll figure it out."

Junior reached up and ran his fingers along my chest. We were matched for height and it felt nice to have this soft initimacy with my son-boyfriend.

"I know, Dad," he said. "It's just that... I figure this is my last chance in a long while."

"Last chance for what?" I asked. Braden called me oblivious a lot, and this was a prime example.

"To have your kid, Dad. If you want that."

"Junior... you have no idea how happy that would make me." I pulled him closer to me. I don't think I realized until that moment how much I wanted to procreate with Junior. "But you'd have to want that, too."

"I want it, Dad," my son objected. "If you give me permission, I'd go off the birth control right away."

I had a million reasons to talk Junior out of it. A million practical considerations to talk through. But instead I kissed Junior, deeply.

I had to be inside him, so I finally relinquished the kiss. "Go tell your Daddy dinner will be a few minutes later, OK? Then come meet me in the master bedroom."

The huge smile on Junior's face told me we were gonna do this. Gonna have a son together. Whenever Bill Jr began ovulating again. Whenever my seed got the job done. Eventually, but maybe soon.

"Yeah, Dad."

[marlynnofmany]

Aiming the Machismo

I’m on the tall end of our ship’s lineup. Not the biggest by any means, but with half the crew short enough to elbow in the head accidentally, and the others only that tall when they stand on tentacle-tip, it’s easy to think of myself as one of the big ones.

Sometimes we make deliveries to people who enforce that impression. Today was not one of those times.

“Move aside,” said the deepest voice, echoing from the opaque helmet of a Smasher in an armored suit. “Official business goes first.” His companion was just as hulking, with shoulders that looked like they wrestled buffalo for fun and hands that could crush a coconut.

I was glad he wasn’t talking to me.

“Official, huh?” demanded an Armorlite, sticking his dinosaurian face in close to bare teeth at the helmet. His voice sounded normal by comparison. “We’re official too, and we were here first. Get in line.” He was backed up by a half dozen similarly beefy individuals — a surprising collection, really: big Frillians and a couple extremely jacked humans. They made a wall of sneers worthy of any gym bro turf war.

The Smashers weren’t impressed. But at least they weren’t taking out any weapons. “Rule violators who are wanted in several systems have been spotted nearby. We’re here to capture them for the greater good. Move aside.”

The Armorlite laughed in his face, saying that they were bounty hunters too, and they weren’t about to let anyone get ship fuel before they did. The air was full of jeers and testosterone, or the alien equivalent. Some of the macho individuals were female. It made no difference.

It was unfortunate, though, since this mess was between us and the front counter, where a single put-upon Heatseeker stood behind a sign about repairs. I saw why none of the bounty hunters had gotten their fuel yet; apparently the dispensing nozzle for midsize ships was broken.

Good news. That’s what we were here to deliver, among other things.

I looked past the hoversled full of heavy machinery at the two most muscle-bound members of our crew, whose body language was currently more timid than usual. I guess they knew their place in the macho pecking order. Blip was glancing from one face to another as if trying to predict a winner, while Blop stood at attention and stared into the middle distance. All of their many frills were slicked back as if trying not to draw attention.

Well, I was a slender breakable twig compared to everybody except the little Heatseeker, and none of that was my problem. “Guys,” I said. “Let’s yell ‘delivery’ on three.”

They both looked at me instead of the nonsense. Blip nodded, standing taller and relaxing her frills into a more normal position. Blop took a deep breath that it sounded like he needed.

“One, two, three. DELIVERY!”

The argument stopped, and multiple dangerous faces turned in our direction.

I tugged the hoversled forward and spoke into the brief silence. “Repairs, so everybody can get their fuel faster!”

What do you know, the sea of biceps and teeth parted to let us through. With Blip and Blop pushing from behind even though the sled didn’t need it, I led the way past everybody taller than me to where the green-scaled Heatseeker waited.

“Thank you,” he said in relief. “That nozzle broke right after our regular supply ship left. Do you have time to stop by our sister colony on the fourth planet? We ordered extra of one of those other parts, and it sounds like they need it.”

“I think we can manage that,” I said with a glance at Blip and Blop. “Let me just check with the captain. Are the same rates okay?” Behind me, the arguing was getting loud again.

The Heatseeker agreed readily over the noise, and called somebody else up to the front to confirm everything. Instead of shouting into my phone or trying to get past all the competing pectorals twice more, I sent texts and invoices to whoever was in the cockpit.

Surprisingly enough, the boisterous voices moved their debate outside while we worked. By the time we got the delivery unloaded except for the part going to the sister colony, the room was quiet. I was glad for that, though worried about what we’d find when we left.

I asked the Heatseeker at the counter, “Have those bounty hunters been here before?”

He shook his scaly head. “No. I hope they finish their business soon and move on.”

I agreed. We said our goodbyes, then the twins and I maneuvered the nearly-empty hoversled back to the door. The only thing left on it was a bundle of cables for some sort of electronics. Thoroughly packaged to keep out dust, and tied down in case of unexpected jostles to the sled. I hoped there wouldn’t be any of those on the way to the ship. With a glance at Blip and Blop, I moved forward to open the door.

Cheers, grunts, and thuds greeted me. After one cautious step out onto the rural spaceport, I saw how the meatheads had decided to resolve their differences. It wasn’t by fighting. It also wasn’t a dance-off, which I’d seen once before. No, they were taking turns picking up empty fuel tanks and seeing how far they could throw them. It was very far.

“Let’s take the long way around,” I suggested.

“No kidding,” Blip agreed, pushing the sled faster. “Before they decide to throw us.”

I stepped quickly. “That’s an option to them?”

“Probably.”

Blop said, “I hope the sister colony is quieter.”

“Me too,” I agreed as we hurried to our ship with roars of triumph filling the air.

Surprisingly enough, the three of us got to see that sister colony ourselves shortly after. Usually our crew trades off in who hands over the deliveries, so it should have been Paint and Mur doing this second dropoff, but this was an unplanned one and they were busy helping deep clean the medical bay. So I went again with the Blip and Blop, and we got to appreciate a similar reception area with no slabs of beef causing trouble.

“This is a lovely place,” I told the Heatseeker with deep blue scales at the desk. Windows lined every wall here, giving us a view of rolling hills where cloud shadows drifted over bushy trees and equally bushy sheeplike things. The scent of spicy flowers wafted through.

“It is,” she replied, looking tired. “The aromatic moss on the trees is particularly beautiful.”

The other Heatseeker checking over the cables said, “Too bad the locals weren't making up their monster stories. If those were actually fake, I’d be a lot happier.”

“What monster stories?” I asked. Blip and Blop got more alert behind me.

At the same time, the first Heatseeker asked, “They’re not? Are we sure?”

The guy with lighter blue scales straightened up. “We’re sure. Another set of their livestock got killed last night, and more personal accounts of missing people have turned up now that we’re actually looking into it.” He gave me a glance. “We don’t know what kind of monster we’re talking about, but I have theories.”

I looked out the windows again. The scenery didn’t seem quite as welcoming now. “Is there a local predator eating people?”

The receptionist hurried to clarify, “Nothing gets eaten. The people always turn up again, and the animals are damaged but not taken away.”

Blip asked, “Have you put up security cameras?”

“Yes, that’s what this cable is for. We’re putting up more, and making sure they’re connected to a proper power supply.”

“But did the first ones see anything?” Blip insisted.

“Not the culprits,” said the darker Heatseeker. “We need to aim higher, I think. And adjust for light fluctuations. Whoever is doing this brings spotlights to upset the cameras. Or else it’s some sort of natural bioluminescence on a grand scale.”

The pale guy shook his head. “It’s definitely somebody in a ship. Creatures on foot wouldn’t be able to make those patterns in the plants, at least not that quickly.”

I whipped my head around. “Crop circles?”

“They are circular, yes.”

“So people are being taken,” I repeated. “Abducted, then returned, while livestock is getting mutilated and there are circles in their crops?”

“That’s about the size of it.” The guy gave me a sharp look. “You’ve seen this before?”

“Not personally,” I said with a frown. “But my planet sure has.”

“Oh!” said Blop. “It’s those little gray guys, right? I’ve heard about them. No morals at all.”

“Yes, them.” I felt my frown turning into a proper scowl. “They harassed my planet for generations, and never answered for it. They only left when we made contact with the broader galaxy. The frill-tearing mud eggs.” I made sure to insult them in both Frillian and Heatseeker terminology, to make sure we were all on the same page.

The darker Heatseeker looked appropriately scandalized. “That would fit with the way only the locals have seen them here. They must be avoiding us.”

“But maybe they’re about to leave soon, right?” asked the paler one. “Since they only like uncontacted prey who can’t report them?”

“Probably,” I said. I turned back to tap a finger on the payment tablet. “Let’s finish up quickly. I know just who to tell about this, and these little gray bastards are exactly the kind of rule-breaker they’ll outdo each other trying to catch.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 9

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 8

Someone’s hammering.

Stop it.

Who was hammering?

It’s early. Fuck. Stop hammering.

Quit it! It’s early.

Was it?

Joel decided to open his eyes. Peek at what was going on. Why was it so bright? Did he leave the lights on?

Fuck… his head.

Who was hammering?

That’s weird. The clock on his wall said 9.30.

Was that right? Was it 9.30?

He sat up, trying to get his brain to stop moving in his head. Quit moving.

There was no more hammering. But there was. What the fuck was going on?

He crawled out of bed, slowly getting himself upright and made his way to the ensuite. He made the mistake of switching the light on in the bathroom, immediately retreating and switching it back off.

Fuck he’s old. Hangovers had never been worse.

The house was quiet when he ventured into the kitchen, still trying to keep his head as still as he could, lest his brain fell out.

“Finally! Good morning!”

“Shhh!!!” he hissed, his shushing vibrating its way into his wobbling brain. “Too loud. Too loud,” he croaked.

Ellie quietly snickered, going into his room, coming back out with sunglasses for her Dad, gently placing them on his nose. “You and Uncle Tommy had fun last night, huh?” she whispered, as she helped him sit on the stool behind the kitchen island. She shuffled about as he held his head in his own arms on the wooden surface, busying herself with the microwave, cringing a little, shushing it when it beeped. She placed a huge mug in front of him, the man immediately taking the mug and thankfully sipping the black liquid his daughter offered. His eyes closed, a silly smile appearing on his lips, and he took a deep breath of satisfaction.

“Sarah went and got you coffee from Lil this morning before work. She predicted you will need it, big time. Guess she was right!”

Joel smiled, thanking Ellie for the coffee, making a mental note to thank Sarah for her thoughtfulness. He took another sip, smiling at the thought that you had made this coffee for him. He should text you and thank you.

“Shit.”

“What?” Ellie asked, pouring the oatmeal she was heating up for him into a bowl, placing the now empty pot in the sink and turning the water on to soak it.

“Lily.”

Ellie smiled, turning to give him the bowl, taking a banana and a knife to add to it.

“What about her?” she asked, a sly smile on her face as she cut the banana for him, getting rid of the peel and opening the cupboard to get the honeypot.

“Did I… talk to her last night?”

Ellie’s head snapped towards him, an excited smile accompanying it. “Did you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“The fuck would I know, I didn’t call her. You did.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t know. Did you or did you not call her?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” he said, rather defensively.

Ellie closed the honey jar, pushing the bowl nearer to him and ran off, coming back with his phone in her hand. She shoved it in his face for some reason, causing him to retreat, almost falling off the stool.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting facial recognition, to unlock your phone.”

“Just do the slidey thing.”

Ellie looked confused, sliding the lock on the phone and voila, it unlocked. The teenager looked at her Dad, disbelieving.

“You don’t lock your phone with anything? No password? No thumbprints? Facial recognition?”

“No, should I?”

“Fuck yeah! What if someone steals the phone, your dick pics are gonna go viral man!”

Joel couldn’t speak. His what was gonna go viral now? He looked at his daughter, taking his sunglasses off, shocked that she would say such things. Ellie noticed.

“Oh, come on, I know men do that. Just in case someone tells them to whip them out and measure.”

“Ellie!” he exclaimed, shocked, and immediately regretted it when his head throbbed. She snickered, telling him to eat and producing two Tylenols as if she was some magician. “I don’t do that, okay? And how is it that you know men do this?”

She shrugged, “I go to school. People talk.”

Oh my God, he thought. How soon can he build a panic room and lock both his daughters in it and not let them out? Was that legal? It was, right? He’d still be a good Dad, right?

She checked his call log, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh yeah, you called her alright,” she said, shoving the much too bright screen on his face again. He shrunk back, putting the sunglasses back on.

Shit. What did he say to you?

“Oh, and you texted her,” she said, scrolling up, her eyes widening. “Did you say you want to kill her?”

What? No he didn’t! He grabbed the phone out of her hand and read the text himself. Oh no. No… No, no, no, no, no. Why? Why oh why did he text you when he was drunk? And he called you. Fuck! What did he say to you?

He gave Ellie his phone back, dropping his head on the counter, spooning his oatmeal into his mouth like that, sulking. How the fuck was he going to face you again?

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t remember what I said to her,” he mumbled, mouth full of oatmeal.

“So call her and find out!”

He lifted his head. “What if I was rude to her? What if I said something bad?”

“Well, you drank that coffee, and you’re still alive, so… it’s not poisoned. I’m sure you didn’t. If you did, you’d be dead.”

Good point. Good point. Okay. He’ll call you.

Fuck, what should he say?

“So…” Ellie tried, elbows on the counter, a smirk on her face, “Are we nervous to call her?”

“No…” he said, rather defensively. Too defensively.

“Uhuh…” she deadpanned, “Just like we’re not nervous about asking her to join us for dinner Friday, right?”

Oh! That was it!

“Hey, I asked her about that! I couldn’t text so I called and asked her.”

“And? What did she say?”

Joel thought for a while. Hard. What did you say?

His head hit the kitchen counter again. “I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

Ellie shook her head, patting him on his back, “Well, you think on that. And then let me know if you need to go over the script to ask her what happened on the call, kay?”

Joel took a deep breath, sulking at the prospect of embarrassing himself, yet again, over the phone with you.

Sarah came home to a very antsy father pacing the backyard, his phone in his hand, both hands gesturing as his lips moved, saying something she couldn’t decipher. The last time she saw him doing this was when she was maybe seven or eight? Just before the first DIY segment he did with Uncle Tommy on that morning show. He didn’t need to do this anymore with his lines. Looked at his scripts once and sort of said whatever came close these days – the directors had given up trying to get him to say exactly what they wanted him to say. So that couldn’t be it.

Ellie was sitting on the couch, watching him go through this obviously important process he simply must go through, a bag of chips in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s rehearsing what to say to Lil when he finds his balls to call her. He did last night, apparently, to ask her about the dinner Friday, but could not, for the life of him remember what he said to her.”

“Oh, yeah, Lil said he was gonna call her back to ask her again – she didn’t want to say yes while he was drunk. In case he didn’t mean to ask her, you know? I told her he was serious. Couldn’t promise her he will call today, he hasn’t had a hangover in years. She said she’ll come,” Sarah said, smiling uncontrollably at her Dad’s obvious nervousness.

“Oh, really? Should we tell him? Put him out of his misery?”

Sarah contemplated for a bit.

“Nah… let him sweat. This’ll be fun to watch.”

Ellie sat a little bit straighter, crossing her legs to watch more closely. Sarah went outside to join her Dad.

“Hey Dad,” she greeted, giving her old man a kiss and a hug.

“Hey BabyGirl. How was work?”

“It was alright. That talkative parrot was back. The owner refused to believe she could really imitate a dog’s bark. I almost suggested a shaman.”

Joel laughed, the parrot in question a regular since Sarah started her internship.

“I was gonna order dinner. What do you feel like having?” she asked her Dad, an innocent look on her face.

“Er… anything you feel like having. I don’t mind. I just have a quick phone call to make,” he said, raising the hand with his phone in it.

“Okay,” she said, turning around to walk inside. “Oh Dad? I’m supposed to remind you to call Lily, she said you called her last night?” She smiled coyly at her suddenly very flustered father, going inside before he could say anything else.

Joel rubbed his face for the hundredth time since he went out to his backyard that evening. Shit. You’re expecting his call. He really had to call now. You’d been waiting for his call.

His heart expanded slightly at the thought that you talked about him when he wasn’t around. That you were waiting for his call. He spent the entire day agonizing whether or not to call you. Would a text be better? But asking someone out, even if it’s not a date - no, it’s not a date, it’s a family thing… with more than just the two of you, so no, not a date – didn’t seem proper, for some reason.

Sarah and Ellie watched with gleeful smiles as their father straightened his posture, wiping his face and dusting some imaginary dust off his shoulder, lifting his phone up, looking at the screen, fixing his hair as he moved his head around a little, brushing his fingers on his moustache and scruff one final time, as if preparing to go on camera, before taking a visible, deep, deep breath and clicking on his screen, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Lily? Hi, it’s Joel. Miller. Joel Miller. Ellie and Sarah’s Dad?”

Silence. Joel couldn’t hear anything, save for his thundering heartbeats. He looked at his screen, “Hello? You still there?”

You laughed, and Joel swore his heart almost jumped out of his mouth. “Yes, Joel, I’m still here. Why are you introducing yourself to me like I’ve never met you?”

He shut his eyes, shame flooding his system.

“I have no idea. I don’t make this kind of calls a lot,” he said, chuckling slightly.

“And what kind of call would that be?”

He sat down, “The kind where I call to tell the other person I forgot what I said to her last night cause I was too out of it to remember?” he cringed, hoping you wouldn’t be offended.

You snorted, getting sponge cake all over your couch. “You, Mr Miller, is responsible for getting my couch cleaned now. I just sprayed sponge cake all over it.”

“Send me the bill!” he joked easily, a huge, relieved smile on his face. “Is that what you’re having for dinner? Sponge cake?”

“Uhuh,” you mumbled, trying to chew as fast as you could to answer him. “I’m so hungry but I’m too tired to cook, reheat or even wait for food to arrive. Luckily, I have this sponge cake my neighbour gave me last night.”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve sent something over,” he said, facepalming himself for blurting that out. Who the fuck was he to be sending you food? You’re gonna find him creepy now.

“Well, even if you did, I would’ve gotten full from sponge cake cause whatever you sent me would get here too late.”

Phew. You didn’t find him creepy. What the heck was going on? He talked to you all the time, why was he so nervous? You’re not even here, not even on video. Why the nerves?

“So all this horror of me eating sponge cake for dinner, what are you having for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, the girls are supposed to do the ordering,” he turned around just in time to see his girls clambering off the couch, Ellie with a huge packet of chips in her hands. “I just eat whatever they order.”

“You do take out a lot? And just to be clear, that’s what I do, can’t cook to save my life.”

He laughed, “I do cook sometimes, simple things. Paid enough attention in my Mama’s kitchen to survive. Had Sarah to cook for. And Tommy too, most of the time.”

“Ah… survival cooking huh?”

“Yep. Only a few poisonings recorded so far, so fingers crossed!” he said, a smile clear in his voice.

You smiled to yourself, swooning internally at this man’s humbleness.

“So how come you’re not cooking today?”

“Uh… Ellie felt like take out,” he quickly said, throwing the teenager under the bus. He couldn’t possibly tell you he spent the entire day trying to come up with the perfect things to say regarding the call he made last night that completely vacated his mind, so much so he forgot to cook. Thank God Ellie was home and ordered lunch.

“So, hangover gone?”

Joel groaned, covering his face with his hand, ashamed to be reminded of it. “Why do hangovers feel so much worse when you’re in your forties? I swear I was dead when I woke up this morning.”

You laughed, “Is my laughing giving you a headache? I’ll stop if it is…”

“No!” he countered, a little too quickly.

Please laugh some more. I need to hear you laugh to breathe.

“Okay.”

Phew.

“So, if you don’t mind reminding me, I know I called you to ask about Friday night. But for the life of me I can’t remember if you answered, or if I even asked you,” he tentatively asked, cringing at himself.

“You did ask me to join you guys for dinner. I didn’t answer, in case you were drunkenly asking? As in you didn’t mean to ask but did because you were drunk?”

“No, I really did mean to ask you. I swear.”

“You said you would get back to me today to prove you were serious.”

“Well, thank God I called you, then. Lily, will you join us for dinner Friday?”

“Are you sure I’m not intruding? Meeting Tommy’s new girlfriend, that sounds private.”

“You’re really not. Please?”

“Do I have to dress up? I mean, are we going somewhere with a dress code? Cause I don’t do that. I don’t… I’m not comfortable with that.”

“No, not at all. I mean, you can dress up if you feel like it, but you don’t have to, I promise.”

You were quiet for a beat.

Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…

“Okay.”

Joel didn’t realize it, but he shot up so quickly his back creaked. His limbs were involuntarily twitching, threatening to break into moves that were definitely out of character for him. He heard snickering from inside, turning around to see his girls running inside from Sarah’s balcony, the sliding door quickly shut behind them.

Thank God he had enough control to stop from breaking into a dance.

He composed himself, trying hard not to gush.

“Yeah? Okay! Uhm, I’ll pick you up 730?”

“I can Uber, you know.”

“No… let me pick you up, please?”

“Okay.”

No… no, no, no, no, no… Was there not an ounce of hair gel in this house? How was it that he didn’t own hair gel? Shit. He barged out of his room, grabbing his keys, wondering if there was enough time to stop at the store for hair gel. He hated himself at that moment. Why was he such a sloppy man? Would it kill him to have hair gel lying around? Thank God he had deodorant. And damn it, why didn’t he own any colognes? He rummaged through the pantry, looking through the toiletries stock for anything he could use in place of hair gel, cologne, but found nothing.

Sarah came running in, having just arrived home from work, a paper bag in her hands. She went straight for her Dad, just as Ellie came out of her room, still not dressed for the dinner.

“You guys aren’t ready? We’re gonna be late!” Joel panicked, looking at his watch.

“Uh, Joel, chill. It’s 6.20. Dinner’s not ‘til 8.”

Oh.

Sarah pulled a stool out, asking Joel to sit down. She rummaged in the paper bag and pulled out some sort of spray, spritzing some on her palms and running them through his hair, styling them as she did.

“This,” she said, face full of concentration as she ran her fingers in his hair, “Should keep the style, but not make your hair oily or sticky.”

She and Ellie then studied their father, perched nervously on the kitchen stool, head tilted to the side, a small smile on their faces. Joel felt like he was on display, nervously tugging on the dress shirt he had on. Ellie came over, folding the sleeves of his shirt to just below his elbows, taking a step back, looking impressed.

“You clean up really well, Dad,” Sarah said. Ellie nodded. Their faces were… something… unreadable to Joel. Sarah reached into the paper bag once more, taking out a glass bottle, lightly spritzing Joel’s pulse points before telling him he’s ready to go now.

“What about you two?”

“Sarah’s driving us. We need to stop at the store for something,” Ellie said.

“Plus, traffic from Lil’s to the restaurant is not bad, but the traffic to her place from here can be, so you should go now,” Sarah said, pulling him to stand.

Joel stood at the garage entrance for a bit, wondering if he should just wait for the girls.

“Go, Dad, it’s okay. We’ll meet you there.”

Okay, okay. Joel checked his pockets for his wallet, phone and keys, and opened the garage door. He turned to look at the two girls once more, just to be sure.

“Go!”  

Joel finally left, and the girls waited until he backed out of the garage to call their favourite BBQ place for take-out, sly, hopeful smiles on their faces.

Joel’s drive to your place was filled with anxiety. He knew this was not a date, but God was he nervous. Sure, he practically had lunch alone with you almost daily for weeks and had that lunch at the Thai place with you once, but this felt different. He didn’t even look at his usual t-shirts or flannels when getting dressed. He wanted to look good. Not just for you, obviously. Just good… in general.

He got to your place at 7.15, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, wondering if he should go up to get you, or call you to let you know he was there. He looked at the rearview mirror to check his hair, running his fingers through his scruff just in case, smelling his armpits to make sure he didn’t smell bad. He looked over to the passenger seat, frowning at the piece of paper he saw on the footwell, bending over to get it, a receipt from the take out last week. Shit, he didn’t wash his truck. He chanced a glance at the back seat, an array of folders and notebooks and blueprints and paper bags scattered all over. He jumped out of his truck, going to the back to clear everything out, just managing to hide everything in the bed of his truck when he heard you call his name.

Fuck. Him. Hard.

Joel felt lightheaded. You were smiling at him, walking over in a simple pair of dark jeans and a dark blue blouse, making him curse at himself for choosing this dark grey dress shirt instead of the dark blue one.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” you said, your dimply smile gracing your face, light make up on, your lips a darker shade than your usual blush, your hair free falling over your shoulders.

Joel found himself blubbering, finding the right words to say that would still get his point across without sounding like an idiot. But you reached him before he could, giving him a peck on his cheek as a hello.

It was as if all the vocabularies he had amassed since he was blessed with the ability to speak left his head, and all he could do was mumble something akin to ‘you look beautiful’ out, which he was convinced sounded more like a blurb.

He ran to his passenger side door, offering you his hand to help you get in, and cursed himself as he closed the door and ran to the other side. When he opened his door, the smell of your perfume flooded his senses, and he had to fight the urge to bury his nose in your neck to get a better whiff, as if he was not about to openly swoon at what he was already smelling.

“Last chance to back out, Miller, you sure you want me there?” you teased.

“Yes,” he finally managed to say clearly, “I’m sure. You look really nice, by the way.”

“You already said that,” you told him, gracing him with another smile, “Thank you. At least I don’t smell like coffee tonight.”

Joel had to bite his tongue from saying he liked it when you smelled like coffee. The way your hair smelled when you hugged him goodbye the other day, like coffee mixed with coconut milk, almost made him collapse from swooning.

“Nothing wrong with smelling like coffee,” he said, putting the truck into gear.

“Ahh, see, tell me that when you spend every single day in the truck with me for years, Miller. You’ll never want a cup of coffee again, I promise you that.”

Images of spending his retirement in the truck with you filled his head and wouldn’t leave.

“Lily, Joel, I’d like you to meet Maria,” Tommy beamed. You shook Maria’s hand, and she pulled you into a hug. Tommy leaned across his new girlfriend to kiss you on the cheek. The four of you sat down, Joel finally noticing that the table was for four, and not six.

“The girls called, Sarah’s car wouldn’t start, it’s just us four,” Tommy easily explained before Joel could even ask.

Joel took his phone out to call her, his protective fatherly instinct taking over, but Tommy pushed his hand away. “They’re at home, Joel, it’s not like they’re stuck somewhere. They’ll be fine. Let’s order, huh?”

The four of you chatted easily throughout dinner, Maria getting along with you famously. She worked at one of your father’s chains for a couple of months, she said, minding the till, but never got the chance to try making coffee – she was too new, and left for college soon after. You offered to teach her, if she was interested, just come by the truck, and she happily accepted, excited at a chance to try latte art.

Joel couldn’t stop watching his brother with Maria. He really did seem relaxed, happy, content. Heck, even the fact that he was introducing her to him was a big deal. He had never brought a lady home to meet anyone. And Maria, she seemed nice, very easy going, very friendly, and obviously very patient, if she could stand being in Tommy’s company this long, as short as that may be. But as much as he tried to focus on the main purpose of the dinner, to meet Tommy’s girlfriend, he found himself pulled back to you, how easily you got along with his brother, his girlfriend, how you tried and almost succeeded in teaching him how to use the chopsticks, how easily you included him in the conversations, how comfortable he was with you being there, despite this being a non-date.

He struggled a bit with one particularly slippery piece of sashimi, his efforts to get the piece of salmon between the bamboo sticks without drenching himself in shoyu showing, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He was about to give up and take the darned fish with his fingers when you reached over, clipped it effortlessly with your chopsticks, dipped it in shoyu and offered it to him, a wide smile on your face. He laughed at himself for his lack of dexterity, taking the salmon into his mouth, giggling a little as you mimed his mouth movements like one would when feeding a child.

Tommy watched with interest as his brother let his guard down, clearly enjoying this time with you. Maria leaned over, quietly asking him if he was sure the two of you were not together already? Tommy raised his eyebrows at her, and the two gave each other knowing smiles, not that you or Joel noticed, as you fed him another piece from your own plate, giggling like schoolgirls as he took the piece from your chopsticks, his face going a bit red as the wasabi hit his senses so hard he almost sneezed. You rubbed his back, asking him if he was okay, and he only laughed, nodding in response.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here, this is very merry,” Angela came sashaying to the table, her typical smile plastered on her face. “Angela Maddison, I’m their agent,” she introduced herself to you and Maria, offering the very tips of her fingers to the both of you, immediately retreating her hand once both of you took it, wiping her fingers at the back of your chair.

“Hey Angela,” Tommy mumbled, “Who are you here with?” he asked, taking a sip of his matcha tea, not at all looking interested in knowing the answer.

It was very odd. This woman was their agent, had been for 20 years, yet their faces snapped shut the moment she made herself known. That little fact was not lost on Maria either, it seemed, she was looking at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Oh, I’m just here with Antonio,” she cooed, turning slightly and waving her pointer finger at a handsome young man at what you assumed was her table. Tommy nodded disinterestedly. Joel glanced at the table, nodding at the young man, before helping himself to a piece of maki off your plate. There was an awkward silence for a beat, Angela still standing there as if expecting an invite to join you, her eyes eyeing Joel’s movements.

Joel made to take an unagi off your plate, and you stopped his chopsticks with yours, letting out an exaggerated gasp, playfully chastising him for trying to steal your favourite piece, the one you were saving for last. He picked it up anyway, dipping it into the shoyu, bringing it to your lips, an apologetic plea, complete with a playful pout on his face, morphing into a smile when you took it into your mouth.

“Well, I’ll see you guys around then, this looks like a fun date night!” Angela finally said, a beaming smile that made you want to cringe on her face. “It was nice to meet you both… erm…?” she said to you and Maria, before seemingly realizing that neither Joel nor Tommy actually introduced you two to her.

“See you around, Angela,” Tommy said with finality in his voice, turning to Joel to ask him something about some neighbour they had growing up, the conversation continuing well after Angela’s sourpuss and footsteps retreated from your table.

The four of you stood in front of the restaurant, chit chatting idly as you waited for the Miller men’s cars to be brought around. You and Maria exchanged numbers. She hugged you goodbye when Tommy’s car was brought around, giving Joel a peck on his cheek, Tommy doing the same to you, before leaving, Maria telling you she will text you about those coffee lessons. The two of you waved them goodbye as you waited for his truck.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Very full, but otherwise okay,” you replied. “If I fall asleep in your truck you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

“Hey, I tried to steal your sushi but you wouldn’t let me,” he teased, “But if you do fall asleep in my truck, I’d have no choice but to bring you home. I don’t have the heart to wake you if you do. You can sleep in the truck in my garage.”

“Such a gentleman!” you said, hand clutched at your chest, pretending to be touched.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, it’s got AC and everything!” he joked.

You laughed, hard, the man himself almost bending double laughing with you.

His truck was brought around, and he placed his hand on the small of your back to lead you to it.

“Is that your girlfriend, Joel? Has the elusive Joel Miller finally gotten himself a girlfriend?” a man’s voice asked. You turned to see a phone pointed at you, the flashlight shining in your face. His voice was so loud a group of young ladies walking by stopped in their tracks, their faces morphing into excitement when they saw Joel.

“Oh my God, Joel! We love you! Are you his girlfriend? You’re so lucky! Oh, she’s so pretty!” A chorus of cooing voices followed. You kept your head down, Joel wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close to him so the man’s camera couldn’t capture you, bringing you to his truck. He opened the door for you and helped you up, making sure you were all in before shutting the door behind you, tipping the valet, and getting in himself.

“You okay?” he asked, looking a bit alarmed.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just…”

Your door opened suddenly, the man had followed you, shoving the phone in your face again, loudly asking for your name, if you were Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You tried to pull the door closed again, but he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out. You fell to the sidewalk, the ladies screaming something or other in unison, yet separately. You pushed the man away, you could just make out the many phones aimed towards you as you tried to get up, the man grabbing your arm roughly again, asking you one more time for your name, and if you were his girlfriend. More hands landed on you, but whose, you didn’t know. The screams from the ladies and the small crowd gathering was lost to you but overwhelming you at the same time as you tried to get away from the man’s firm grasp on your arm, and the other hands on your person.

“Let her go! Get away from her!” you heard Joel yell out, the man pulled away from you so roughly he flew a few feet back onto his ass. The doorman at the restaurant and the valet person held the man, along with some passersby, as Joel lifted you into his arms and deposited you, surprisingly gently, back into his truck, shutting the door, telling you to lock it, before running towards his side of the truck and driving off, his right hand landing on your left one, squeezing it tight, asking you over and over if you were alright.

“Dave dear, be a doll and call my agent for me,” Cleo’s voice rang. Dave took a deep breath as he stilled his movements before carefully folding the silk camisole he had just finished ironing and placing it in the suitcase for the vacation they were going to take, which he now knew was never going to happen.

He padded out of the closet and found Cleo lying on her stomach on her bed, watching some story on Insta with interest.

“Isn’t this that bitch you dumped for me?” she asked him, a sly smirk on her face, showing him her phone. Dave looked at the screen. He watched in horror as some man opened the door to a truck that you were in and pulled you out, only to shove a phone in your face, as the person who took the video and the people around him yelled at the guy to leave you alone, some trying to pull you away from him. He was relieved when you managed to push him away, but his head froze as the guy grabbed you again, rougher this time, not letting you go, screaming at you, asking for your name and if you were dating ‘him’.

He watched as Joel Miller, the man he knew had history with the pap, pulled the man off you, sending him flying back, quickly taking you into his arms, protecting you with his own body, before lifting you back into his truck, yelling at you to lock the door, getting in himself and peeling away.

“Call my agent,” Cleo’s voice snapped him out of the chaos that was the video, the people around cursing at the guy for being physical with you.

“Why?” he asked, Cleo’s smirking face making him feel uncomfortable.

“Would you just do it? Sheesh!” she snapped.

Dave rolled his eyes, dialling the agent before giving her back her phone. “You had your phone in your hand, couldn’t you have just called him yourself?” he asked, knowing exactly why she wanted him to call the guy. She wanted him to know why she was calling. Cleo eyed him as she held the phone to her ear, her eyes shining with malice.

“Hey Tom? Savvant here,” she cooed into the phone. “Can we get in contact with Build with the Millers? I think I need a closet makeover.”

Part 10

[cedric-k-rossignol]

The French Crown Jewels Theory - Parts 1 & 2

The gem in Undertaker's ring is 'diadochos', the Phantomhive Family Ring is indeed a diamond, and Sirius (r!Ciel), Canopus, Vega, & Polaris all possess their own gems as well. All of this jewelry was sourced by Undertaker from the French Crown Jewels that were stolen/went missing in the midst of the French revolution of 1792.

Alright y'all, once again I am back on my medieval French literature shit. This time in Latin! Fun stuff. No poetry analysis in this one, thank God. Instead, I got to go back in time to my years wasted spent studying biochemistry! Fuck me!

I have tried to find evidence of this being discussed online previously and have come up empty (obviously the hope diamond has been discussed, but not in the context of the Golden Fleece), but please let me know if this has already been theorized and I just missed something!

The gem in Undertaker's ring is not a diamond but a mineral that was once known as Diadochos. From ancient Greece through to the middle ages this mineral was considered sacred and powerful, thought to be capable of summoning and holding the 'shades of the dead' and making demons clearly visible to its user.

The gem being Diadochos would also explain the color difference of the ring between season 1 of the anime (green) and what would later appear in further seasons and in the manga (unclear....no pun intended). It also provides a link to the French Crown Jewels...

Which brought me to what I believe is a confirmation that the Phantomhive family ring being sourced from "The French Blue" diamond (a portion of which is now known as The Hope Diamond) as was seen in season 1 of the anime will become canon in the manga. I also am going to predict we will meet a certain grim reaper named Hendrik Fals that's based on a real person.

Not only that, but the idea of another ring with a sister diamond (as seen in the anime with another portion of The French Blue) was an interpretation of what will happen in the Manga. R!Ciel is likely in possession of The Bazu Diamond, which was a part of Louis XV's insignia of The Order of The Golden Fleece. Canopus, Vega and Polaris likely hold the three yellow sapphires that surround the Bazu Diamond, and I believe the other diamonds in this piece have something to do with Undertaker's other mourning lockets.

This also supports my theory of Undertaker being a Breton (from Brittany, France) as I believe he's represented by the dragon called "le Côte-de-Bretagne" in the insignia. And of course, that he was the one to originally gift the Phantomhive family ring to Ciel's grandmother Claudia as a symbol of his devotion and commitment to her, and in doing so "cursed" her and her family (it's a metaphor y'all)

The French Monarchy had no shortage of drip, you think only one measly giant ass diamond went missing when people's heads were getting chopped off? Buckle up, I fear this is going to be a long one. Trigger warning for discussion of suicide and mental illness.

Let's get into it.

Part One: Undertaker's Ring

In researching French medieval age jewelry for my Floire et Blancheflor series, which involves two rings (one of which is magical), I came across a gemstone that was noted to be "the most powerful" (or something along those lines) but I'd never heard of it before - Diadochos/Diadocos And then I googled it, and nothing came up. I had to dig into scholarly articles and Latin text to get info on this, and even then it's sparse.

There were three main sources I could find; two books on minerals hailing from ancient Greece, the other a popular book from the middle ages - 'De Lapidis' by Marbode de Rennes. Translated into several different languages shortly after publication, the original Latin text was written in the late 11th century by a French bishop from - say it with me everybody - Brittany.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I doubt it. I really need to finish my Undertaker is from Brittany write-up...

All these sources make similar and frustratingly brief claims, as neatly summarized in one article on the the ancient Greek text Tetrabiblos;

1. The stone diadochos is similar to the beryl. 2. It is as useful for divinations through water, and for the summoning of shades (adductionibus umbrarum) as no other stone. 3. Furthermore, it makes the appearances (effigies) of all daemons thoroughly visible. 4. Do not apply it to someone dead (=a corpse), because it is opposed to the deceased. 5. For this stone is divine and sanctus and santified by a perpetual consecration.

Side note - I will absolutely be making another post about Tetrabiblos and it's companion volume Almagest. Written in the 2nd century by Claudius Ptolemy, they're the respective astrology and astronomy bibles of the middle ages. Tetrabiblos literally means "four books", and it's Latin translation is titled Quadripartitum means "four parts". There are some very interesting notes about demon summoning in this. All of Claudius Ptolemy 's books are addressed to an unknown person named Syrus. He also has what appears to be a relevant volume on music (this guy REALLY likes fours...) looked to see if anyone had mentioned this in a theory before and when I couldn't find anything I was shocked. Let me know if I've missed a post cause there is absolutely stuff to be discussed from Claudius and these books - I just can't get into it or this post will be 5000 years long.

So, Diadochos is actually now known as Beryl.

Whereas diadochos means "heir, successor", the word "beryl" is Old French for a "precious blue-green color-of-sea-water stone".

It's worth noting the element "Beryllium" is #4 on the periodic table of elements.

Gemstones high in beryllium include beryl (aquamarine, emerald, red beryl) and chrysoberyl. It is a relatively rare element in the universe, usually occurring as a product of the spallation of larger atomic nuclei that have collided with cosmic rays. Within the cores of stars, beryllium is depleted as it is fused into heavier elements.

Diamond is element #6... Interesting.

This stone was, as I mentioned, considered sacred and magical - used often in divination, and to create crystal balls. But it also had much more practical uses -

When the first eyeglasses were constructed in 13th-century Italy, the lenses were made of beryl as glass could not be made clear enough

Well that sure is interesting...

Season 1 vs Canon - Fight!

As I said, this mineral is now known as 'beryl' - but you would be more likely to recognize the names we use to refer to the different colours beryl comes in - morganite, heliador, gosenthite, aquamarine, and emerald. You're likely familiar with the signature colors of some of these gems, all of which are different shades of the same mineral.

As previously mentioned, 'beryl' is the Old French word for the blue-green color of the sea.

I think it's pretty widely accepted that the creators of season 1 were given information from Yana that hadn't yet been released to readers of the manga. The most obvious example of this (so far) is the 'Undertaker is a reaper' reveal. Now I have no idea what the creative process behind developing an anime is like, how much contact or creative input Yana Toboso would have had, but I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest it's possible that admist a wealth of information that was handed over, there was a note that said Undertaker's ring was one of 'Beryl', and the creative team went with the 'traditional' Beryl color of blue-green - which is why people think the ring in season 1 is set with an emerald.

Peep the fleur de lis 👀 y'all they knew not to leave THAT out at the very least.

And yes, emerald is a shade of Beryl - but this was never intended to be an emerald.

The difference in color is something that's always really bugged me, so I'm relieved to finally have an explanation that makes sense (to me at least). Now as for the colour Yana chose...

So What Fucking Colour is it Anyways?

If you know of better official art that demonstrates the color of this damn beast of a rock on his hand, feel free to point me in its direction because I was struggling. There seems to be a pattern of colour-washing the art or appears in, or Undertaker posing in a way that hides the ring from view.

This is a much-discussed character design that shows a lock of hair embedded/underneath the gem of Undertaker's ring (we will return to this detail in a future theory), as well as confirmation of the fleur-de-lis on the side of the ring, and then of course the gem itself. Perhaps a light yellow, or perhaps just showing the gold backing through the translucent stone?

We do get some shots from the anime in BOC and BOA respectively;

Well, I get why people think it's a diamond.

Even in official artwork sometimes it's white, sometimes it's yellow, sometimes it's tanslucent , sometimes it's a little...blue, dare I say?

Back! on! my! Chemistry! Shit!

Alright, and now we get into the chemistry of it all. I know, first history and now this bullshit. I'll keep it brief; excuse me my nerdy nostalgia for a spectroscopy graph.

Basically, the different colors of Beryl are due to impurities within it (unclean one!). The purest form of Beryl is goshenite, which is clear/white.

The other colours are formed based on what ions (charged atoms) exist within them as impurities - for emerald it's Chromium, for Morganite it's Manganese... And both the yellow and aquamarine colors are due to the presence of iron (element #26) ions.

Now when you think of the gem aquamarine, you probably think of a pale blue; and for most gems sold nowadays that true. As a March baby it's my birthstone, and I've been gifted many a pale blue aquamarine birthstone reminiscent of the water it's named for....

Oh wait a second, who else is a March baby? Motherfucking Cedric K. Ros(signol), that's who!

Okay, I'll admit; I'm sort of invested in his ring being an aquamarine gem because it would relate back to both his birthday and his 'rebirth' as a reaper when he drowned, and the more I string these crazy red threads through French history the more I'm convinced these details are critical to his character. So yeah, I'm biased - but before you write me off as delusional, just hear me out, because the chemistry is in my favor!

The best-known green beryl is emerald, which obtains its colour from Cr and/or V ions. However, a different green colour can be obtained from mixtures of the yellow and blue beryl chromophores described above. When yellow and aquamarine chromophores are simultaneously present, the colour becomes light green. Depending on the relative concentrations of the two chromophores, the colour can vary from light yellow-green to light blue-green. Shang et al. (2022) classified the colours of beryls containing these chromophores into five groups, from yellow to light blue.

Fridrichová et al. (2015) heated crystals of deeply coloured aquamarine and yellow beryl to different temperatures. After heating one of the yellow crystals to 300°C it was still yellow. Heating of additional yellow beryl samples to 500°C and 700°C in each case resulted in light blue aquamarine colouration. Another yellow crystal heated to 900°C lost almost all its colour.

All this to say; apply enough heat to a green beryl and it will turn to yellow, to aquamarine, to clear.

Here's a little basic color theory refresher for you as well; blue and yellow pigment together make green, whereas blue and yellow light create white light.

Here are some examples of various coloured aquamarine gems, some set in gold bands like Undertaker's, based on the verbiage with which they were advertised;

1. A clear goshenite gem; 2. A pale aquamarine; 3. A yellow aquamarine

4. A clear blue aquamarine; 5. A yellow aquamarine; 6. A yellow aquamarine

5. A yellow Aquamarine; 6. A yellow Aquamarine; 7. A pale blue aquamarine

All of these could conceivably be made from the same source mineral - what changes its nature is the amount of heat that's been applied to it.

Neat, huh? And I would argue symbolic for this story. Both in that there's a whole lot of manors being burned down, but also as a metaphor for life experiences and trauma.

The scientific debate on nature vs nurture continues, but it seems to be proven again and again that the way we develop is significantly weighted towards nurture. Nature plays its part, for sure - if there weren't iron ions in these gems, the fire wouldn't have an effect on the gem's color. It might get a little toasty, but then it would cool off and have no lasting effect on the gem's appearance, structure, chemical composition... But since there are iron ions that are a part of the gem, that were within it when it first formed (which it can do nothing to change), it is significantly impacted by its environment. If the fire gets hot enough, it can lose all of its color.

For someone like Undertaker, who I believe to have been (and continue to be) mentally ill, depressed, and ultimately suicidal to wear this ring is symbolic of the mental illness he was born with, and the trauma he experienced living in Brittany from 1331-1366 (Black Plague, The Breton War of Succession, and The Hundred Years War between France and England).

I've seen it mentioned in discussion that Sebastian is a physical representation of Ciel's trauma - a physical demon to represent his metaphorical demons. I also see the story of Black Butler as an allegory for generational trauma and inherited mental illness; that which we bestow upon our children like heirloom jewelry.

However, this metaphor is also sort of hopeful in that the change isn't necessarily permanent. The color of the gem can revert back towards its original hue over time depending on the circumstances.

Undertaker & Water

There's a panel in the manga that implies Undertaker's method of suicide was drowning. I currently have two different theories on where he drowned that are duking it out for the top spot. Currently the top contender is that he jumped from La Pointe de Plouha, the tallest cliffside on the Breton coastline, and drowned in the waters separating England from France - The English Channel. Plouha has a very interesting myth about the Ankou, the Breton version of the grim reaper, and I find it poetic for him to be reborn in the waters seperating him from a country he'd been at war with for most of his life - especially given that he would proceed to fall in love with a British Aristocrat.

This French crown jewels theory seems to support the idea that he drowned in the English Channel as I believe he's represented in the insignia by the dragon, le Côte-de-Bretagne (Translates literally to the coast of Brittany) - but I'm not ready to fully call it yet. Withholding my final judgement for the moment.

Regardless, if Undertaker did drown, his character being associated with Diadochos/Beryl/Aquamarine, stones intrinsically associated with water, makes a lot of sense. Consider after all, the arc where we first really met him - book of the Atlantic takes place in the middle of the ocean.

The Romans believed Aquamarine to be sacred to Neptune, the god of the sea. Supposedly the gems came from mermaid's treasure chests (they're actually formed in hydrothermal vents) so saiilors would wear it for protection against shipwreck. They also thought it had healing properties because the gem would appear to disappear when submerged in water.

Well, Undertaker did disappear when submerged in water, didn't he? He was reborn as a reaper, only called himself by his serial number 136649 (an oddity even amongst reapers, who have all also committed suicide), and (externally at least) completely disassociated himself from his former life.

Cloudia and Undertaker share the zodiac sign Aries, a fire sign, so there's symbolism in water killing him. Extinguishing his flame, so to speak.

As mentioned in Tetrabiblios, Diadochos is useful for divinations in water, and the same is said of beryl;

Beryl was a popular skying stone in the Middle Ages. Most sources indicate that this was done either through dowsing, attaching the beryl to a thread over a bowl of water, with the crystal just touching the water...An alternative method involved throwing the stone into a bowl of water and reading the disturbance it created.

Undertaker threw himself into a body of water, then revolted against Reaper HQ, had an affair with and sired two illigitimate half-human children on the Queen of England's guard dog, and went against the laws of Gods and men to raise the dead. If thats not a disturbance, what is?

There's also a religious aspect to look into. Book of the Atlantic takes place over the holy week that precedes Easter - and I have a theory outlining why I believe both he and Cloudia's birthdates fall on 'Holy Monday'. He was also born on the day of the Annunciation - that's the day that an angel came to Mary to tell her she'd been chosen to carry the Incarnation of God. He's also associated with the white lily, a flower associated with Easter, and he carries a lot of religious symbols. His cassock, prayer beads, and the crown of thorns on his scythe and on Cloudia's locket are not there for shits and giggles. This religious symbolism ties into my theory on the circumstances of his birth, and the thread that I believe ties the lockets together...

...all of which I've been in the process of researching and writing for a hot minute, I just don't know how to keep it brief 😩 I'm a dog chasing squirrels.

Anywho, religion - there is the concept of Baptism. Undertaker being reborn into a new life when he submerged himself in water.

Baptism is a Christian sacrament of initiation almost invariably with the use of water.It may be performed by sprinkling or pouring water on the head, or by immersing in water either partially or completely, traditionally three times, once for each person of the Trinity. The synoptic gospels recount that John the Baptist baptised Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus, since he and Undertaker seem to be so tightly knit, Jesus performed seven canonical miracles, and two of the most notable (imo) are with water; walking on it, and turning it to wine. The last of course was Lazarus, raising the dead...

Magical Properties

I'm not suggesting that this stone actually grants Undertaker any abilities, but it's interesting that the supposed magical properties align with his character attributes.

It's been theorized that Frances is always making comments on how slovenly Sebastian's appearance is because she has the ability (on some level) to see his demon nature due to her half-reaper blood that she gets from her father, Undertaker/Cedric. This is somewhat supported by Ladger and Sascha speculating Ciel's ability to see them is from his bloodline - which is of course, where we got Cedric K. Ros- from!

Then there is of course summoning the shades of the dead and holding them here on earth. And I find it super interesting that this specifically mentions not to "apply it to a corpse" because "it is opposed". Like, what the heck does that even mean? A vague warning that if you fuck around, you'll find out? I have not been able to find any further details on what this might be referring to, but it sure sounds ominous.

And finally a note that the stone itself is "perpetually consecrated" - unable to be desecrated or corrupted. The stone is "divine". I will have to come back to this in another theory, because it's a can of worms, and this post is long enough.

Finally, I must note that according to the French wiki, Aquamarine is a symbol for a happy & faithful marriage. Specifically 23 years of marriage.

La couleur marine de ce minéral fait qu'il a été utilisé comme talisman pour les marins. Symbole de fidélité entre jeunes mariés, c'est un cadeau censé leur garantir un mariage heureux, ce béryl symbolise 23 ans de mariage.

Frankly it doesn't seem to have the most reliable source, but it's worth noting that is you take Claudia's age when she died, 36, and subtract 23 years, you get an age of 13.

Giving you maaaaaaaad side eye Undertaker 🤨.

Now to be clear I don't think they ever actually got legally married; perhaps not even "spiritually" married. However it is very possible that they met in 1843 - Undertaker likely deserted the reapers around the time of Queen Victoria's ascension to the throne in 1837. We don't know what he was doing during this time, what goal he might have been working towards - but befriending Claudia's father, the current guard dog of the new queen, might have been part of it.

I have my own personal head-canon that he worked as a jeweler during this time, but I don't have any real support for that - just that it makes sense given all this damn drip the guy has, it would be a way to familiarize himself with the British Aristocracy and perhaps even The Royal Family themselves, and the black market trade of stolen jewels might have been of particular interest to him. More on that in a minute.

Anyways it makes sense within the narrative for them to have met when Claudia was 13, as much we might find him even knowing her at that age icky, because of how significant the number 13 is to this story.

Part 2: The Hope Diamond & The Hirsch Aquamarine

Alright so as discussed - Undertaker's birthstone is aquamarine. Let's say for the sake of this argument, you agree with my interpretation of Undertaker's ring being a pale aquamarine gem. While he and Claudia share a zodiac sign, and a birthday on the same 'day' of Easter, they were born in different months. Cedric in March, Claudia in April. Which makes Claudia's birthstone a diamond.

The Origins of the Hope Diamond

Going back to season 1 of the anime, where the animators had more knowledge then we did about future events (even if they were interpreted oddly), they made the Phantomhive family ring not a sapphire but a blue diamond. Specifically, a gem cut from "le Grand diamant violet de Sa Majesté" a French Crown Jewel that was stolen in 1792 in the midst of a revolution. This is commonly referred to as "Le Bleu de France" in English circles, but the French actually called it purple, not blue.

Back to chemistry briefly for this point - in a similar concept to what has previously been discussed with Aquamarine and Beryl, impurities in the French Blue is what provides it with its distinctive colour - specifically, Boron (element #5).

Visually, the gray modifier (mask) is so dark (indigo) that it produces an "inky" effect, appearing almost blackish-blue in incandescent light. Current photographs of the Hope Diamond use high-intensity light sources that tend to maximize the brilliance of gemstones. In popular literature, many superlatives have been used to describe the Hope Diamond as a "superfine deep blue," often comparing it to the color of a fine sapphire—for example, "blue of the most beautiful blue sapphire" (Deulafait)—and describing its color as "a sapphire blue." Tavernier described it as a "beautiful violet".

The diamond also exhibits a phosphorescent quality (it glows);

Phosphorescence: The stone exhibits an unusually intense, brilliant red phosphorescence after exposure to short-wave ultraviolet light. This 'glow-in-the-dark' effect persists for some time after the light source has been switched off, and this strange quality may have helped fuel its reputation of being "cursed." The red glow is a phenomenon of blue diamonds that helps scientists "fingerprint" them, allowing them to distinguish real ones from artificial ones. The red glow occurs because of a mix of boron and nitrogen in the stone.

It's worth noting that while an Aquamarine is changeable, it doesn't fluoresce when exposed to ultraviolet radiation like a diamond does.

A cursed blue diamond glowing red? Hmm....

You likely know this gem as The Hope Diamond, which is a recut section of the French Crown Jewel, which itself was cut from a diamond called "The Tavernier Blue", originally purchased by a French merchant in 1666 (yikes) in India, who then sold it to King Louis XIV, who is also known as Louis le Grand (the great) or le Roi Soleil (the Sun king).

Louis XIV's great grandson, Louis XV, had the diamond (as well as other gems) reset into a pendant for "l'ordre de la Toison d'or"- "The Order of the Golden Fleece". We will discuss this pendant more in Part 3, but it fell into disuse after Louis XV's death. It became property of Louis XV's grandson, Louis XVI, who married the infamous Marie Antoinette (also referenced in season 1 of the anime in relation to both the Hope Diamond and to Undertaker). Antoinette used many of the French Crown Jewels for personal adornment by having them reset - however, this pendant of The Golden Fleece stayed intact through their reign.

On September 11, 1792, while Louis XVI and his family were imprisoned in the Square du Temple during the early stages of the French Revolution's Reign of Terror, a group of thieves broke into the Royal Storehouse—the Hôtel du Garde-Meuble de la Couronne (now Hôtel de la Marine)—stealing most of the Crown Jewels in a five-day looting spree. While many jewels were later recovered, including other pieces of the Order of the Golden Fleece*, the French Blue was not among them and it disappeared from history.

A likely scenario is that the French Blue, sometimes also known as the Blue Diamond, was "swiftly smuggled to London" after being seized in 1792 in Paris. But, the exact rock known as the French Blue was never seen again, since it almost certainly was recut during this decades-long period of anonymity, with the largest remaining piece becoming the Hope Diamond.

*this is misleading - so far as I can tell, the only other piece of the Order of the Golden Fleece that was recovered is le Côte-de-Bretagne, the red dragon. This piece is now in the Louvre.

Is it terrible for me to say I see a resemblance between the dragon and Undertaker lmao?

So the French Blue (and le Côte-de-Bretagne, and perhaps the rest of the Order of the Golden Fleece) was smuggled to London... But I'm going to pause here, and talk about another gem that disappeared - the Hirsch Aquamarine.

The Hirsch Aquamarine

Not nearly as well known as the French Blue, this is a gem that was in the possession of Louis XV, the same King who had the French Blue reset into the Order of the Golden Fleece. (Fun fact, King Louis XV was also the one to cede 'New France' to the British... And so New France would became Quebec).

I have been unable to find a lot of details on the Hirsch Aquamarine - supposedly King Louis found having it on his person to be soothing. There is no record of it being sold, or even stolen - it simply disappeared.

Well, I'm going to say it was stolen. And this was the thief - j'accuse...!

I propose that reaper 136649 knicked it while on the job.

It is not noted as being among the gems that were stored at the hotel from which the Order of the Golden Fleece, or indeed being in the posession of a King after Louis XV. Perhaps he reaped Louis XV's soul when he died in 1774. Perhaps Louis XV, who found the gem soothing, had it on his person at his time of death (his cause of death was smallpox), and Undertaker decided to grab a little momento of their time together.

Why?

Well... He's obviously sentimental. We will leave it there for now.

So let's say Undertaker stole the Hirsch Aquamarine while on the job - how did he end up with the remainder of the missing Order of the Golden Fleece? Let's return to the French Blue, the Côte-de-Bretagne, and conceivably the rest of the Order of the Golden Fleece being smuggled to London

The Recutting of The French Blue in London

Historians suggested that one burglar, Cadet Guillot, took several jewels, including the French Blue and the Côte-de-Bretagne spinel, to Le Havre and then to London, where the French Blue was cut in two pieces. Morel adds that in 1796, Guillot attempted to resell the Côte-de-Bretagne in France but was forced to relinquish it to fellow thief Lancry de la Loyelle, who put Guillot into debtors' prison.

So in 1792 the Order of the Golden Fleece is stolen from a French hotel, and smuggled to London. The Côte-de-Bretagne then turns back up in France in 1796, and eventually it is sold to the Louvre in 1887. So we know in the manga, Undertaker is not in possession of this part of the insignia. Him being the dragon has more to do with symbolism of the dragon who guards the Golden Fleece in the Greek myth, and the symbolism of being from Brittany - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

However... It's looking more and more to me like we will end up going to Paris in the manga, and I'm betting our little Lord will take a tour of the Louvre and see the dragon...

The next time this diamond appears in history, it is 20 years later, and in that time it has been cut into what will become known as The Hope Diamond.

A blue diamond with the same shape, size, and color as the Hope Diamond was recorded by John Francillon as in the possession of the London diamond merchant Daniel Eliason in September 1812, the earliest point when the history of the Hope Diamond can be definitively fixed. The 1812 date was just days after 20 years since the theft of the French Blue, just as the statute of limitations for the crime had taken effect.

Well that's bloody convenient.

So sometime in between 1792 and 1812 the French Blue is recut, with the Hope Diamond appearing in the jeweler Eliason's posession in 1812, and the Cote-de-Bretagne showing back up in France still in Guillot's posession, but none of the other gems. Those - there is no record of what happened to them, nor what happened to the other recut portion of the French Blue.

Now, an oft-cited source peaked my interest, so I went ahead and tracked down a copy of the book Blue Mystery: The Story of the Hope Diamond, written by Susanne Steinem, published in 1976. Within it is a list of the supposed deaths that trail the owners of the diamond. I went searching for something specific on a hunch - and boy, did I strike gold.

7. Wilhelm Fals, a Dutch diamond cutter, is said to have recut the French blue, producing a brilliant of 44 1/2 carats. He then supposedly died of grief after his son, Hendrik, stole the diamond. As for Hendrik, he is said to have committed suicide in London in 1830. 8. Francois Beaulieu is said to have obtained the diamond from "a nameless suicide" presumably Hendrik Fals. Beaulieu was supposedly forced to sell it to Daniel Eliason for a fraction of its value - and then died the next day of starvation.

Hendrik Fals, whose father cut the French Blue, and who himself was in possession of the Hope Diamond in 1830, killed himself.

Now you might be scratching your head going wait, what? You just said the ring showed up in London at Eliason's place in 1812, but in this version of events he wouldn't have gotten it until after 1830. I also don't mean to be insensitive - Hendrik Fals was (supposedly) a real person, and if it's true that he committed suicide, that's incredibly tragic.

To be completely frank, the author of this book says that there is no evidence for this sequence of events - it's the mythology of the ring. There are a ton of events detailed in the book as legend that have no basis in fact. That the diamond is cursed is itself a myth (I mean, duh, but also in that there are not a weird number of deaths that follow it).

However - I 100% believe Yana Toboso has read this book. The fucking title is Blue Mystery. Hendrik Fals, in the Black Butler universe, is now a Grim Reaper.

And he became a Grim Reaper in 1830 - and Undertaker likely didn't desert until 1837, around the time of Queen Victoria's ascension to the throne.

Now, Undertaker still being with the reapers between 1819 and 1837 is weird, given that the massacre at reaper HQ of 1819 wiped out half of management. I doubt our boy 136649 is just chilling in the employee lounge after pulling a stunt like that. But I am certain at some point Hendrik and 136649 met, and well, if I wanted to know where the gems from the Order of the Golden Fleece were, Hendrik Fals would be an excellent place to start.

Other Posts

Like I said, I tried to google to see if this has been discussed before and came up mostly empty (again, obviously, there has been a lot of discussion on the hope diamond but nothing I could find in the context of the other French Crown Jewels). Let me know if I missed something!

I did find an old post discussing a poem that was referenced in the Public School Arc between @abybweisse , @thaliaarche and @white-queen-lacus that referenced Beryl which is interesting. Seems like the poem also mentions shades of the dead, and the river Lethe from Greek mythology which I referenced in my Rossignol theory post and part 2 of my Floire et Blancheflor series.

That's All For Now!

If you made it this far, you deserve a medal...or a knightly order.

I really tried to fit this all into one but I'm going to have to split it. Next Part will focus on analyzing the other gems in the insignia of Louis XV, a look into the elements that make up these gems, how the Bazu is likely to be the 'sister diamond' of the Phantomhive family ring instead of another piece of The French Blue, the properties of yellow sapphires and how they might relate to blood (more spectroscopy for me whoopee), how the Dragon, Bazu Diamond, and Golden Fleece symbolize Undertaker and the twins, the Order of the Golden Fleece and its History, and of course the myth of the Golden Fleece itself.

A sheepskin is a brutal fucking metaphor - I'm sure you can guess what comes next, it's not a new theory.

If you liked this theory, you can take a look at my other theories via this masterpost that I will update as I crank these out. The theories I've developed mostly have to do with French history, French Christianity, Breton culture, and medieval French literature... I hope and pray chemistry does not become a trend.

I hope you enjoyed my insane rambling, my ask box is open and I'm always happy to talk about this stuff and thanks so much for reading!

[sschizoid]

Tulpar crew babysitting…

ive got you pookie ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

--

curly

is so honored that he was chosen to be entrusted with the care of something as delicate as a baby. always wanted to be a dad, but never quite found the right person to settle down with. but doing this is kind of reigniting that old baby fever he thought he'd forgotten about all those years ago. maybe someday

loves to play, especially with his hands. peek-a-boo, patty-cake, and finger puppets are his go-tos, as he thinks teaching creativity and engaging the imagination through just means of your person can make for a healthy mind

singing is also something he loves to utilize, but he doesn't go for the predictable options like your ABCs or wheels on the bus. no, right now, he's got himself an audience, one that can't tell him to keep it down or that his music taste sucks, and he's going to take advantage of that. he's singing the beach boys

jimmy

would ideally never be in this situation to begin with. cannot fathom why anyone would think to trust him of all people to care for a baby when he can hardly even care for himself

if he does somehow get swept into it, whether it be by the will of god or some other foreign wind of change, he will do the absolute bare minimum. throws the kid in a playpen with some toys and sits back while enjoying some television. probably puts on some trashy animated show that's definitely not made for infants, but all they care about is the moving pictures and fun colors, right? everything else is subjective

texts every 45 minutes asking for updates on when parent(s) will be home, because he kind of has somewhere he needs to be in an hour (lie). also he dug around in the fridge a bit and ate some leftovers but re-positioned the remaining amount in the tupperware in an attempt to make it look like he didn't. also, he's getting paid for this, right?

anya

she's never really interacted with kids before, let alone a baby. she's trying to find a polite way to decline, but takes too long in trying to come up with an excuse and eventually just agrees

read a whole bunch of parent blogs 20 minutes before coming over so she could know what to expect. the only information she retained was that babies like to be talked to. she's professional and talks to them like she would a coworker at the watercooler. baby seems into it, though?

feeling confident after making the baby laugh, but she doesn't want to risk losing the progress she's made by trying something wacky. baby likes talking— maybe likes books, too? she brought her homework just in case she wanted to do some studying, and decides to read the articles from her textbook aloud. it works like a charm, though the baby falls asleep soon after. maybe the subject matter was too boring?

swansea

hell. no. he spent over a decade of his life combined dealing with rugrats, what makes you think he'd want to go back to that? he did his time and then some, his sentence is served

the only circumstance where he'd agree to babysit is if it were to do his own kids a favor. they're around that age, getting their lives together and starting families, so he could swallow his pride every now and then and play the role of "grandpa," for a bit. even if the title seemed unearned

but being a grandfather kind of makes him reflect. makes him realize he probably wasn't there for his kids nearly as often as he should have been. he wasn't a good father to them, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he's thankful they made out alright in the end. he feels a pang in his heart when he looks into the face of the baby and realizes it has his nose

daisuke

OF COURSE he'll babysit, are you kidding? he's always wanted a little sibling to instill his personality and interests into, and this, while not the perfect opportunity, was probably the next best thing

brings over all of his favorite toys from when he was a kid. hot wheels, tech decks, legos, the works. tries to teach the baby how to do a kickflip with the tech deck, but they keep trying to eat it. that's cool too, he can maybe understand the appeal. it kind of looks like an eclair if you squint really, really hard and hold it really, really far away

babysitting is also the perfect excuse to watch cartoons without the fear of being judged by boring people, so he's got that shit running the whole time. nothing too babyish (he wants to enjoy himself too, after all), but still has loads of bright colors and the occasional catchy musical number that will most certainly follow him home that night

--

hope these are sufficient ! if anyone else has any requests; my asks are open !! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

.......i'm admittedly a bit backed up at the moment but rest assured I'm POWERING THROUGH YEAAAHHHH 💪

[jaiden-zhou]

(1) casual iso <3

contents: headcanons, reader is a uniqlo employee for plot purposes

not a writer but,, iso is so.. sigh, imagine this reserved uniqlo wearing hitman acting like an absolute puppy for you. yeah this is self indulgent and yeah maybe its based off of my experiences but hey, content.. its long.. i.. the things this man does to me

part 2, part 3

.

.

iso whose closet is practically all uniqlo apparel, from core basics to limited exclusive collabs, anything else is like expensive tech wear/street style clothes, he likes his quality

iso who always grabs heavy oolong milk tea with tapioca pearls, a classic predictable drink (his friends call him basic for it, but he doesn't mind), every afternoon he gets the chance to

iso who ends up being an employee there with how much he visits, the owners are a chinese elderly couple who like gossiping with him in mandarin (he has fun listening to their stories and such)

iso who likes having music playing of his own whether it be from his headphones or speakers, even at work his music is playing loud enough for only him to hear from his headset hanging around his neck

iso who works evening shifts part-time and gains a lot of eyes from admirers where he gets at least three numbers given to him a month like "you're really cute, text me <3 (XXX) XXX-XXXX"

iso who's never interested, none of them catch his eyes like how he catches theirs, and ends up tossing whatever number scribbled onto a receipt away

iso who goes to uniqlo on his day off for a collaboration launch consisting of outerwear jackets and trousers that match his style only to not find his size on the racks

iso who takes his time trying to comb through the racks, desperate to find it on his own and take it with him before giving up, pulling down his headphones, and reluctantly asking you

iso who, at a reasonable distance, looks over your shoulder as you look up the product listing with the desired size and color, hearing faint rap music playing through his headphones slung around his neck, finding that there should be three units left and listens in quietly when you radio your coworkers if there are any in the back before going to look for yourself

iso who waits patiently at the same spot for quite a while before you go jogging up to him with the jacket he has been wanting, the plastic and paper still wrapping it up signaling that it has been unprocessed and untouched

iso who still is patient with you with an expectant look, not the impatient kind, it's the anticipating excitement kind, as you're still a little out of breath from running around finding the item for him unwrapping and removing all the excess packaging and giving it to him with both hands, garbage tucked at your arm

iso who looks at your earnest expression, sweet eyes, and genuine smile and feels his breath hitch before taking the coat and doing a little head bow while muttering a quiet 'thanks'

iso who leaves an anonymous compliment to you, conveying his gratitude for going out of your way to find him a limited quantity jacket and sub-consciously thinks of your cute expression of when you gave it to him every time he throws it on

iso who was asked to pick up a morning shift, no one else could and so he decided to just wake up early enough and suck it up but boy does he not regret it

iso who opens up the shop for the first time ever and lo-and-behold, you waltz in as the first customer and immediately he recognizes you, and apparently so do the owners

iso who listens quietly as, whom he likes to call granny, greets you with a warm voice asking if you're ready to go to work

iso who once again patiently waits for you to walk up and order, finding out that you're also a regular here, always grabbing a drink before your long shift at the japanese clothing store he met you in

iso who's still a little quiet, shy even, when you greet him noting that you recognize him from a while ago, your friendly exterior giving him a fuzzy comforting feeling inside

iso who after making your drink, bids you goodbye and continues on (not before asking to switch to morning shifts.. for some reason hehe)

iso who starts seeing you most mornings before you work and then with some time, working up the courage (it was very hard, he was very nervous you just didn't see it) to ask you for your number, nothing romantic just being friendly, right?

iso who starts getting a little closer to you, learning what day and times you work, your hobbies, your favorite things, the music you listen to <3

iso who sometimes drops by your workplace to give you a drink or some food and simple yet subtly sweet encouragement that always seems to lift your spirits to push through the day

iso who even starts to see you near or at the end of your shift to take you home, you've worked long enough, and it's dark out.. :(

iso who likes to ensure your safety by accompanying you home, his friends like to say (tease) that it gives him an excuse to see you more. it's dangerous out at night, what are they talking about? nonsense. (denial is a river in egypt)

iso who as time goes by, slowly craves your presence a little more than he'd like to admit, you're always on his mind and he often flusters himself with his thoughts of you, his cheeks donning a light-pink blush. maybe his friends are onto something.. ugh

yeah i'm definitely writing more iso content hehe

------

"don't have to take me home every time, zhao yuuuu." you whined next to him. "i've done it before and i can do it again."

you only get a short scoff in return, iso's hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"it's dark, you're more at risk when you're alone." iso states matter-of-fact. his headphones at his neck with no music playing. "you know this too, so you shouldn't be complaining."

"yeah but," you pause for a moment. "i don't want you to have to make the trip each time to pick me up.."

iso takes in your dejected tone, his eyes soften.

"and i don't want you being in potential danger where i could've been there to deter it." iso chides softly. "please, for my peace of mind.."

"whatever you say," you comply, your shoulder bumping into him jokingly as you share a quiet laugh. "thanks, yu. it means a lot."

"always," he replies, a certain warmth sets in when he hears you say his nickname.

[jadeshifting]

★⋆. — THE ART OF MOODBOARDING ( & USING IT TO SCRIPT. )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

AKA 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS (DAY 16)

Wrapping Paper — What is your favorite way to script? Why is it your favorite way?

( speaking—your resident moodboard obsessed freak )

if you’re anything like me, you’re tearing your hair out at the root at the thought of a “finished” script. what does that even mean? finished? there’s always more to add, always more to be said in a script—how are you supposed to put any limit on what you desire?

for me, someone who’s self-proclaimed as greedy and functionally insatiable, i can never get enough of shouting to the universe and my subconscious what i want. every car, item of chic clothing, piece of furniture that i can see myself lounging on, friend i’d like to get on with, imagined cute moment with a lover, it all has to be mine, very specifically

thankfully, moodboarding is how you can make sure your subconscious knows all of your desires in their specificity, rather than you having to run your poor fingers ragged typing every singular shred of wanting into your script

moodboards? absolute game-changers, babe. just by cobbling a bunch of photos together into a hastily assembled Pinterest board, you’re basically saying, “here’s my order, thanks—make it snappy” to both the universe and your subconscious. when you drag together those dreamy pics, perfectly tuned-in quotes, and curated color schemes, you’re not just daydreaming—you’re blueprinting. you’re locking in on the energy of what you want, and trust, your subconscious eats that up

౨ৎ … GETTING A CLEAR PICTURE

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

moodboards provide the ultimate clarity. once you slap a picture onto a desire—whether it’s pinning it to your Pinterest, dragging it into your Canva collage, or just casually thinking, “that SO fits my DR”—you’re locking that vision in. it’s not just a vibe anymore; it’s an intention, babe. you’re adding more detail to the reality, saying, “yup, this is where i’m going :)”

plus, it’s fun. you’re not just scrolling mindlessly; you’re curating your future. picking that red vintage convertible? that’s you putting links on your Christmas list to make sure you get exactly what you were looking for. it makes your DR feel real—tangible. you’re not just talking about your DR or searching for the right words to describe it; you’re seeing it, feeling it, absorbing it. it turns abstract manifestations into, “oh yeah, I can taste it.”

attaching an image to anything makes it feel real, a basic tenet of visualization in any situation, even to those with no interest in shifting. it gives your mind something solid to hold onto, “I already know what this looks and feels like” so it’s immeasurably easier to convince your mind the truth: you’re already there. just from looking at your curated pictures, you can smell the salty ocean air, feel a cozy cashmere sweater, or taste that overpriced (read: in your price range in your DR) caramel swirl latte

when you specify exactly what you want to your subconscious, and all it takes to do that is to look at a photo you particularly like and declare “it’s mine” it starts plotting, aligning, making moves without you even realizing it. moodboards are more than just aesthetic—they’re manifestation GPS. set the intention, attach the visual—as many visuals as you want, and boom !! you’ve got a crystal-clear roadmap that ensures you not only wake up in your DR, but that you wake up in your DR equipped with everything you’ve ever even considered wanting there

౨ৎ … WHAT IF I’M NOT SPECIFIC ENOUGH?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

you know how the longer you have a phone, the more accurate the autocorrect and predictive text get? because your phone has gotten to know you and the way you talk, so now it can finish your sentences, and it knows what you mean.

your subconscious is like the OG predictive text but on steroids. it’s been clocking your every thought, feeling, and intention since day one. it’s taking notes, memorizing your quirks, and connecting dots you didn’t even know existed. so when you toss your desires out into the universe, you don’t have to micromanage the process—your subconscious is already way ahead of you

think of it like setting your GPS to “ideal reality,” but you don’t have to map every single turn and rest stop on the way there. you just punch in the destination (like that unbelievably chic house with the wrap-around porch, or the boyfriend who’s possessive but not in a gross toxic way, ugh) and your subconscious figures out the scenic route, including all the amenities you hadn’t even thought of. it’s the ultimate ride-or-die, working behind the scenes to align opportunities, ideas, and vibes without you lifting a finger

and the best part? it’s fluent in your language. you don’t need to over-explain, overthink, or stress the details (ahem, glances at your script pointedly)—your subconscious already knows you want the serena van der woodsen aesthetic, the red convertible, or the life that screams, “i’ve arrived.” it’s like handing the steering wheel off to an omniscient best friend who already knows your coffee order, your playlist, and how you like your fries. trust it. stay locked on the vision, and your subconscious will handle the rest, filling in the blanks like the intuitive, all-knowing God it is

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[gavisfanta]

Heyyy bestie, can you make one from fermin?

Something where the reader and he haven't seen each other for months, if you want you can smut (if you feel comfortable, of course)

Reunited - Fermin

summary: Fermin comes home after a long time and you two are happy to see eachother again.

warnings: smut 18+

Life in Barcelona was hard when basically the heart of Barcelona was away.

Atleast for you, Fc Barcelona has always been an important part of your life.

The club has won over your heart when Messi played his first game. Your dad always went with you to watch the games when you were only 6 years old, ever since then you went to most of the games. Your father sometimes went with you but not as often as he did before.

The one night when you were out clubbing with some of your friends you met Barcelona's La Masia players.

Gavi and Fermin who hadn't made it to the first team yet. That between you and Fermin was predicted by Gavi.

Gavi saw the way Fermin looked at you dancing. Gavi still remembers exactly how it went.

"Talk to her." gavi mumbled towards his friend as he was staring at the girl in the tight black dress for over an hour now. Fermin turned his head ti look at the 16 year old Gavi who was annoyed with him.

"What?" Fermin asked a bit taken aback about Gavi's words.

"Oh come on, you're a creep, staring at her for over an hour without making a move. She'll love you, she looks fun. Ask her about her number of something, I don't know." gavi rolled his eyes while he suggested his Bestfriend to do something.

"What if she won't like me?" Fermin asked worried that he'll get rejected by the yet nameless girl who was talking to one of her friends.

"Ugh" gavi groaned while rolling his eyes. He gave Fermin a look before standing up.

"No Gavi- what are you doing-" Fermin stood up running behind his friend. Gavi walked over to you and tapped your shoulder.

"Yeah?" You asked while turning around after feeling the tap on your shoulder. You came face to face with a brown haired boy with fluffy hair.

"Hey, my friend here doesn't know where the backstage is, I heard you know and could show him?" Fermins eyes lit up with fear as he watched Gavi talk to you.

a small smile made its way to your face and you nodded your head. Gavi stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Of course." You stood up from the booth you were sitting at with your friends and looked at the shy blonde haired boy.

"Thank you so much." gavi gave you a wide smile and then you started walking while Fermin followed you.

"My name is Y/n, what's yours?" You asked while walking through the crowd of people with him by your side.

"Fermin, I'm sorry about my friend. It's just-" Fermin tried to say but you shook your head.

"No worries." You flashed him a smile again and Fermins breath paused. Suddenly everything around him was going in slowmotion as he lookrd at your sweet smile, your perfect black dress and your hair sitting perfectly. The blue and purple lights on your skin and reflecting in your eyes.

Thats when he knew that he fell in love with you.

Now barely one year of talking and two years of dating later here you were, sitting on your bed.

You were excited, sitting on the bed wearing your red lingerie, which was sitting just perfectly around your curves.

You felt your core getting hotter as you were imagining what kind of things Fermin will do to you.

He wasn't home for way too long because of the summer USA tour.

After like 4 weeks of sending nudes and texting and calling all night you finally could see him again, or even feel him again.

You put down your phone as you heard the door unlock, you sat up and leaned back a bit as the door swung open.

"Mi amor..." Fermins eyes immediately scanned your body and then he looked up to your eyes.

"Come here, let me hug you." he opened his arms and you couldn't help but smile too. You stood up and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his body and finally inhaling his scent again.

"God I missed you." Fermin kissed the top of your head before pulling you into a long and passionate kiss.

His hand slowly roaming down to your ass and he spanked it which made you moan into his mouth.

"Now let's get to my favorite part." He whispered into your ear after pulling away.

He immediately pushed you back onto the bed and crawled over you, looking down at your breasts.

"I missed you, so so much." He mumbled while diving into your neck, sucking at your sweet spot while you threw your head back.

"So, so, so bad." He mumbled and took off his shirt in a second. You traced your fingers down his abs and squeezed them slightly. He whimpered softly against your mouth and then you wrapped your legs around his torso.

Fermin then put down his full body weight on you and you used that to turn things around.

A shocked expression was seen on Fermins face as you were now sitting on top of him. Your face covered by a huge smile as you were looking down at him.

You then got off of him and sat down next to his body, he was stretched out on the bed so you took things into your own hand.

Bending forward, you pulled down his trousers with his boxershorts.

You leaned down and kissed the tip of his hard dick. Pre cum leaking and running down his whole lenght.

As you kept placing sweet kisses along his tip Fermin was being a bit inpatient.

He groaned as he took his dick into his hand.

"Suck me off princesa." Fermin smiled as he buckled his hips even more forward. Burying his cock inside of your throat.

The sudden contact of his tip with the back of your throat made you gag but ypu took him deeper inside of your mouth.

"Yeah, just like that." Fermin moaned as you began to swirl your tongue around his tip.

Then you took him out of your mouth and you swirled your hands around the part that wasn't in your mouth. Your tongue still licking around his tip.

"Yeah, just like that." He groaned again. He grabbed your hair and made it into a make shift ponytail.

After repeating the same process you felt his dick twitching inside of your mouth. Fermin who was barely able to keep his eyes open moaned loudly.

Just a few seconds later you felt his dick shoot 4 or five times inside of your mouth.

Fermin laid down on his elbows, looking as you swallowed his cum. However, after you swallowed you didn't stop. You kept massaging his dick with your hand while looking up at him.

That sent him into over sensitivity.

You smiled as you let go of his dick after he moaned again.

"Why did you stop." Fermin asked you, drops of sweat sitting on his forehead and his hair messed up.

"I want you inside of me." You climbed over him and pulled down your lingerie. You slid it down your body which left you fully exposed to Fermin now.

"I missed you." fermin mumbled as he kissed you, you gave him a small smile and then alined yourself with his dick.

"Fuck." you whimpered as you slid down fully on his dick.

Fermin threw his head back as he felt you again, your walls clenching around him, you holding him tight. He kept gripping your hips tighter until he was sure that hes gonna leave marks.

You started moving your body up and down, riding his dick in a slower pace than you usually did.

"Yeah, fuck." Fermin groaned and then you started to ride him faster, putting your hands flat on his chest for support.

He then started to buckle his hips up as he felt the warm knot form in his lower abdominal.

"Fermin-" You moaned as you felt yourself get slowly to your high.

"I know love." He mumbled and then lifted you up, he started to push himself up and kept thrusting into you from below.

You moan loudly at a point where you couldn't hold yourself up anymore.

"Come for me, come around my dick. You're doing so good." Fermin praised you to push you over the edge as he felt that you were close.

"Joder Fermin." You moaned and just a few seconds later you collapsed on top of him as you were riding out your high.

"Wait a second princesa." He whispered against your skin and as soon as you felt like your orgasm had calmed down a bit you sat up again.

Then you started circling your hips while he was still inside of you, Fermin gripped you with his fingers.

"I'm close, just one second." Fermin said and buckled his hips forward again.

You then changed your pace and you started going uo and down while gripping him, it made it more difficult to move up and down but you managed it.

Fermin groaned as he grabbed your breasts and pushed them together.

The next thing you felt was Fermins dick shooting strands of cum inside of you. You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his chest.

Fermin moaned at you leaning forward and that made you even tighter.

"Gosh you never disappoint." Fermin smile as he kissdd your forehead as you looked uo at him.

"I missed you amor." You kissed Fermin. softly, still affected by your orgasm.

"I missed you more."

[moonsuke]

Episode Nagi 33

Lol this chapter has so much typical shonen rivalry composition like thank you knsr for the narusasu-reonagi?? 😭

I'll never stop finding it funny and ironic how reonagi makes a better “duo” when they’re separated, like they're literally more in sync and on the same page than when they’re together lol. Perhaps this is the true alone・together chapter (good ending ver) after all.

I'm like so hung up on how emotionless Nagi looks here, its borderline unnerving and scary (and kinda sad if you wanna dig deeper) BUT I LOVE IT. His mouth is so small its kinda cute? Scary, beautiful, cool and cute, that's my Nagi! We haven't seen him "scary" since first selection I kinda miss him. He's was such a menace and arguably the most hype and best written "final boss" to date.

And that's why he'll be back as one. Isagi's ultimate foil, let's go.

And I love that it’s nagi=sasuke and reo=naruto. I know reonagi and narusasu dynamics aren’t exactly similar, mostly because reonagi never really have that rivalry sun/moon yin/yang symbolism going on but when it comes to hot/cold, red/blue I guess they still fit? The second picture kinda have a yin-yang thing going on too. Nagi's aura is black but his heart and character is very pure, while Reo's aura is lighter but inside he has darker thoughts and feelings? That's just me trying to force a yin-yang parallel on them but I honestly don't think they fit that well, unless it’s foreshadowing for the future? 👀 I’ve seen people say it’s reflective of Nagi’s downfall etc but I would think it’s more like the cyclical nature of their progress lol. But I’m mostly of the stance it’s for hype visuals only, knsr seems to like doing that before shit hits the fan. Doesn’t really mean much.

I actually made a lot of mental comparisons between Sasuke and Nagi before, like to understand why are they my favs and why I see them the way I do in their shipping dynamics etc (I only ship them as bottoms) etc. And I’ve always thought reonagi’s kinda like a flipped shonen duo? Like usually Reo would be the typical shonen protag with his red hot fiery passion and energy while Nagi would play the cooler, calmer deuteragonist but for them, the calm one's the protag. It’s like if Sasuke's the protag instead of Naruto lol

I rmb knsr making another narusasu-reonagi comparison before with the kyuubi-susanoo fusion lookalike and I was so insulted then?? I don't even wanna include it here cause they were never narusasu??? Naruto and Sasuke were actually equal rivals but reonagi was toxic codependency with Reo giving up his ideal self (!!!) for Nagi's dream and becoming his passer?? That's the part I was most hung up on honestly (but some shippers like it for some reason, explains why they're also the ones who didn't expect Nagi's "death" even though its so obviously written in the text lmao).

Like you've no idea how glad I'm this current arc ended with Reo scoring and his ego awakening and lusting for goals again. I don't necessarily need him to be a full striker, I just need him to have that hunger for goals back again! And with the way its consistently brought up in both epinagi and bllk that his ideal self is to change in different ways to score goals, I'm confident that's the direction he's growing into. GOOD. I like Reo so much more when he has the “striker mentality”. It's nice to see his Chameleon developing too with him questioning "what is his colour".

Talented learner matches really are very different from Geniuses' ones lol. Ngl, personally I enjoy reading TL matches more. Seeing them actively thinking, predicting, observing and making plays, its more fun than hype moves to me (I'm so sorry this feels sinful to say as a Nagi fan 😭 I love you Nagi your hype moves are still the best and beat all other moments 😭)

-

My absolute favorite parts of this chapter though was all the nicknames Nagi's getting. Little baby? Silver fox-hair (ロマンスグレーボーイ)??? “Romance grey boy” is such a random nickname tho, I know it’s to call out his white hair but still 😭 Maybe Luna’s also half calling Nagi good looking???

And why does everyone Nagi meets keep treating him like a baby chick?? I mean it’s so accurate and I love it but I wanna know what exactly these people are seeing to call a 190cm boy a baby lol. He's even drawn exceptionally baby this chapter 😭

I love it though, keep hammering the Nagi is baby agenda please knsr, just like in bllk too. We know it won't last anyway so let us savor this please 😭 My greatest fear is Nagi changing super drastically during his development honestly. Like please, his personality is what endeared him to his fans, please write him well knsr I'm begging you 😭 You can make him badass and independent but still a cute babychick too right? 😭 I don't want some overly egoistical chad coming back 😭

Like even his speech is baby. Its not translated over when Nagi says "tell me before you leave" but in Japanese he says 「教えてよバイバイの前にさ」 ("tell me before you say bye bye") which is again... so cute. It's like when he said "let's live in a dream as we say bye bye" in a previous chapter. Why aren't they capturing the cute nuances of Nagi like before?? The translations are so trash these days!!

Anyway, can't wait for him to get wrecked by Loki next chapter lol considering how sus it is he barely appeared much. I need my ultimate genius-genius interaction!! Idky but Loki has always given me the creeps since his first appearance. He's always drawn so unnerving in a predator/hunter vibe and his background is always dark too... Curious.

I didn't expect Nagi to be interacting with Luna this much instead but I enjoyed it. Lunagi is my new ship :)

Also didn't expect a Rin/Barou kinda speech from Luna lol. Again, flight and bird symbolism. I'm still on the Nagi's gonna gain wings in his aura agenda (delusional). Like no way is this just a "he's currently a baby bird who needs to learn how to fly" reference. And my personal theory for his ego is still "being the one who shines the brightest/feels the most heated up on the field" which can motivate him to do hype moves only he can achieve. But we shall see. He's still being so vague with his ego which is expected since even at NEL he didn't figure it out...

Like Reo's is clearly articulated, his ego is "to shape my destiny with my goals" but for Nagi what he wanna trust in is "to face the world here and now and tear open a new path with this surging emotion"? It feels like he just wanna be immersed in the moment since he's usually so apathetic? I mean it makes sense, I've said this so many times everywhere but Isagi's journey is to learn techniques and logic that can bring out his innate fire to become the number 1 striker, but Nagi? He has all the innate techniques being a genius and all so his journey is to learn how to discover that fire to motivate his genius. So basically his end goal is to feel fired up! Going from death to feeling alive finally!

(Also thanks knsr for the chiginagi crumbs)

About the main manga, I wonder will 299-300 be two chapters of Nagi backstory before its break 🥺 Somehow I’ve doubts we’re getting his backstory here even if I really want it.

[taintandviolent]

Exciting Emotions; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: Reader gets jealous when she sees how much Ozzy likes Rita Hayworth... but uses that jealousy to come up with a little surprise for him.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.4K | female reader, no smut, established relationship, petting, mentions of arousal, and promises of sex later on.

a/n: short n' sweet! requested by an anonymous (thank you)! this was so much fun to write, as is everything to do with Oz, honestly. if you've seen/know Gilda, a couple things will make sense to you - but it's not required to enjoy the story!! not beta-read. banners by @/strangergraphics and @/adornedwithtwilight!

Who ever said that you couldn't use your own fiery jealousy to your advantage?

You'd seen the way that Oz's dark eyes lit up, widened even, at the sight of Rita Hayworth. You'd seen it and you felt the tight pangs of jealousy grip your stomach. He said it was one of his mother's favorite films, and it was nostalgic for him. That may have been true, but you suspected there was another layer beneath that claim. He shifted forward in his seat, captivated by the way she sung and danced across the screen, oozing a dark, feminine sort of elegance that you could only dream of.

The next time Oz was out working, you took it upon yourself to make that dream a reality. It took you all of an hour to locate a full-service salon that specialized in vintage and pinup styles, and you booked the last appointment they had available. You spent the day riding the subway, from thrift store to thrift store, until you'd procured a perfect outfit; all black, strapless, and the way it hugged your curves was to die for. To top it off, it was vintage, not a replication. The lady who had helped you assured you that it was, and then curtly explained that it was expensive. You, despite your current attire, were on the receiving end of of Oz's constant spoiling and assured her that money was no object. A pair of silken nylons and a black pumps finished off the look.

So, bag in hand, you caught the train again, this time, downtown. Three stops and a short walk later, you arrived at the salon. The stylist, who introduced herself as Tiffany, wasted no time in sourcing your inspiration, which you explained was Gilda. You both decide on big, voluminous waves and she quickly got to work.

Mid-appointment, your phone buzzes, tickling your palm. You blink, and look at the time, biting your lip. He was home early.

The message reads: You okay doll?

Careful not to disrupt Tiffany as she continues to clip your waves in place, you lift the phone and type out a quick response.

Everything's fine. Just went out to do a little shopping and stuff.

Love hearing that baby. You want me to pick you up?

You mull over that option, swiping your tongue along the smooth front of your bottom teeth. You'd originally planned on beating him home, and surprising him, but this might be just as good.

Tiffany chimes in, obviously having read your texts over your shoulder. It doesn't bother you - quite the opposite. You appreciate that you don't have to awkwardly ask her when she'll be finished. "We'll be done in an hour or so. Your hair is just about done... we just need to do your makeup and you'll be set."

You smile at her in the mirror, and hurriedly tell Oz the details.

The time goes faster than you can predict. Before you know it, Tiffany is unsnapping the beauty cape, and as she spins you around to look at yourself in the mirror, a gasp leaves your lips.

You scan over your appearance slowly, taking in each detail. Frankly, you haven't felt this beautiful in a long time. With your hair in perfect waves, your brows high and arched, lips a perfect shade of crimson, and then… jeans and a t-shirt, it looks staggeringly out of place.

"I look… perfect. Thank you so much," you say to the mirror. Tiffany is as delighted as you are and nods, wrapping the cape around her forearm. You get to your feet, and turn, looking towards your bag.

"Do you… do you mind if I change into a dress, here? My boyfriend is coming to pick me up and this whole thing is kind of a surprise for him…"

"Of course! Let me know if you need any help."

It turns out, you do. But Tiffany is there, ready to help you with that back zip. She gets a generous tip, and you make your way to the door.

Finally, with your old clothes in your shopping bag, you step down onto the sidewalk, and lean against the wall in a sultry pose. You're really milking the whole thing, but you know Oz is going to eat it up the second he sees you. A few minutes later, that plum-colored Maserati pulls up to the curb. As you push yourself off, the window rolls down, and you smirk, sauntering towards the car.

You hinge at the waist, and insert one long arm into the car; it's cool inside. Carefully resting your head on your shoulder, you look at the man in the driver seat — who looks like he's about to faint — with a smoldering gaze. Your lips twitch, a desperate attempt at trying to hide the amused snicker that is bubbling up from your throat.

"Say, you wouldn't mind giving a lady a ride would you?"

"Doll, I uh..." He swallows the lump in his throat. His eyes are locked on you, memorizing the visual in front of him. "I almost didn't recognize ya'."

You flash him a bright, red-lipped smile and duck out of the window, moving to open the door yourself. Before you can, Oz is getting out of the driver's seat and gently ushering you out of the way with a wide hand on the small of your back. He pulls the door open for you, gesturing for you to get inside with a sideways nod of his head.

"Such a gentleman," you say, and slide into the seat, careful to keep your modesty. Part of the charm was in the tease, you knew this. Oz pauses a a moment, just taking it all in as you click the seat belt into place.

He heaves a breath and shuts the door.

Once he's inside again, he throws the car into drive, and reaches over to you. Oz's big hand comes down atop your knee with a delicate reverence, like he's afraid the dream might disintegrate if he touches it.

"Shit," he breathes. "You look like a million bucks, sweetheart. More."

"I feel like a million bucks," you reply, toying gently with his fingers. They twitch against the satin of the dress and you smile. You look out the window, watching as the scenery flies past you. Oz is weaving in an out of traffic, clearly in a hurry. You tuck into your seat and turn to him, raising a perfectly defined brow.

"What's the rush, big boy?"

He shudders. You've never called him that. "Shit," he says. "I oughta' hate you for that."

Immediately, a line from the movie pops into your head. You wonder if he'll pick up on it, and decide to test your luck. "Hate is a very exciting emotion. Haven't you noticed?"

"I —" He stops, and disconnects his eyes from the road to give you a sideways glance. "This the part where you tell me that you hate me so much you think you're going to die from it?"

You smile again, satisfied, and reach over the center console. So maybe it was one of his favorite movies. Maybe it was.

"Just wait 'till I get you home, sweetheart."

"Yeah, Ozzy?"

"Yeah," he repeats, keeping his eyes on the road. There's a promise in his voice, one that excites you. Every time you're intimate with Oz, it's as thrilling as the first time because he's so… obsessed with you and your body, hard pressed to please you until you see stars on his bedroom ceiling. You expect this time to be no different.

Your eyes, laden with lust, fall to his crotch. There's a heavy outline in his slacks, and you know he's fighting to keep his attention on the driving. He'd never put you in danger though — precious cargo, he'd always say.

Your hand creeps forward to touch his hard-on, but Oz catches your wrist and brings it to his mouth, where he presses warm, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of it.

"Ah-ah. Ain't tryin' to get in an accident. The way you look… I gotta' focus on drivin', or we're gonna' get ourselves in trouble, huh?"

You pout, pushing your red bottom lip forward and batting your lashes at him.

Oz does, in fact, get you home without an accident. And once he does, he shows you exactly how he feels about your little surprise.

Very exciting.