#I don’t care about the nefarious sounding name so much as the fact that it immediately evokes onceler memories in me

[kaftan]

there was this tweet on twitter that was like “what do you all think of selfcest” and half the replies were like “it’s fine but why does it have such a nefarious name” and I can’t stop laughing thinking about it

[bloody-bee-tea]

Kaebedo Week 2023 Day 6 - Hurt/Comfort ~ Gift Giving

Kaeya and Albedo haven’t talked about what happened on Dragonspine and Kaeya hasn’t thought it to be a problem before. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard all about the imposter from the Traveller. And Eula. And Amber. And Bennett.

He is certain that he heard enough and Albedo had seemed positively crushed the days after the incident, so Kaeya didn’t have the heart to talk to him about it.

Which in hindsight, seems to be the biggest mistake he made yet.

Because the imposter is here, right in the middle of Mondstadt and he’s wearing Albedo’s face.

Kaeya feels anger churn in his gut but he forces himself to stand still for a moment, to think this through. He hasn’t gotten his position by blindly following his emotions and so he takes a deep breath before he makes his way over to what appears to be Albedo.

He’ll have to come up with a name for it, Kaeya realises with a start, otherwise things will get all tangled up in his mind and he resolves to calling him Elbedo. It almost makes him laugh, if Elbedo weren’t staring him right in the face now.

It’s good, his design; he even got the star on his throat right this time. The traveller informed Kaeya that he had forgotten that before but clearly he learned from his mistakes.

The Traveller had mentioned other things, regarding Elbedo; called him Subject 2 and a brother in relation to Albedo and that is the only reason Kaeya doesn’t impale him right where he stands.

Kaeya sees the look on Albedo’s face when he visits Durin’s heart; Albedo has told him how much it pains him to be the only one left. So no, Kaeya can’t kill Elbedo where he stands.

That doesn’t mean he’ll have to be entirely nice though.

“Kaeya,” Elbedo greets him and even his voice sounds exactly the same.

Pity for him that Kaeya can tell. He’s not even sure if there’s something to give him away, it’s just—he feels off. He doesn’t feel like Albedo to Kaeya and that is enough for him.

“Albedo, dear, care to join me on my patrol?”

Elbedo’s face twitches just like Albedo’s would at that endearment and Kaeya has to admit that he’s impressed. He really did his homework, it seems.

“Certainly,” Elbedo answers and falls into step next to Kaeya. “It is a lovely night after all.”

“Right,” Kaeya agrees and then makes honest to the gods small-talk with a thing that is wearing Albedo’s face and possibly here for nefarious purposes.

He feels a little bit sick to his stomach if he gives that too much thought, so Kaeya pushes it far out of his mind.

Kaeya leads them along his normal route, only waiting for them to be out of sight of the general population and soon enough they reach the back alley that goes right along the city wall. There are no prying eyes here and Kaeya doesn’t hesitate.

He pushes Elbedo against a wall, a dagger of ice pressed to his neck. He briefly laments the fact that he didn’t talk to Albedo about his brother, because the Traveller mentioned cryo powers and that could potentially come back to bite him in the ass but he’ll spear him with his normal sword just as well if he has to.

“Kaeya, what are you doing?” Elbedo asks and his voice is a perfect imitation of a surprised Albedo.

“Drop the act, I know you’re not him,” Kaeya says, keeping his voice level and calm. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elbedo tries again and Kaeya presses the dagger more firmly against his throat.

It seems to do the trick.

“She didn’t bother to give me a name. She called me Subject 2,” he spits out and Kaeya releases the pressure of the dagger.

“How tragic for you,” he sneers and then tightens the grip he has on his shoulder. “Here’s some friendly advice. If you’re here because you want to see what it’s like to be a human in the city, then I suggest you pick another face. Preferably one you could call your own.”

“And if I’m not?” Elbedo asks and it seems as if all the humanity is stripped from him. It feels as if Kaeya is staring into an endless abyss of ice and he doesn’t care for it one bit. “Here for that, I mean?”

“If you’re here to take his place or to hurt him in any way, then I will kill you,” Kaeya easily gives back making it a promise more than a threat.

Elbedo blinks at him.

“How did you know I’m not him? My disguise is perfect.”

“Because of that,” Kaeya says and enjoys the confusion on his face. “It’s a disguise. You could never embody the real Albedo.”

“I fooled the knights at the entrance easily enough.”

Kaeya doesn’t even bother to argue with him about that. He’s sure Elbedo had no problems walking right past them but Kaeya is not Swan.

“Clearly. But your luck ran out when you bumped into me. And there is no way you will ever fool me.”

Kaeya can see the twinkling of a challenge in his eyes and he takes his dagger away.

“Try it again and I won’t hesitate. This is the only warning you get. You do not get to hurt him in any way.”

He doesn’t raise his voice but he can tell that the threat landed when Elbedo swallows. He seems so very human in that moment and Kaeya wonders if he even knows it himself.

“You’ll let me go?” There’s confusion in his voice and Kaeya shrugs.

“If you’re simply trying to fit in, if you’re trying to find a place for yourself, I say go for it. Everyone deserves at least a chance at that.”

“But not with this face.”

“Not with this face,” Kaeya agrees. “Now get lost before I change my mind.”

Elbedo gives him one last look before he scrambles away and for the first time some of his own personality shines through because Albedo never runs like that.

Maybe there is yet hope for Elbedo to find out who he really is, Kaeya thinks as he shakes his head and then he decides that he has had enough patrolling for one day. He gets his relief early and then he makes his way home, suddenly longing for a cuddle session with Albedo on their couch.

He is in rather high spirits when he enters their home but all of that crashes when he comes face to face with an Albedo who is in the process of packing his things.

Kaeya freezes in the doorway and Albedo goes completely still as well.

“What are you doing?” Kaeya asks and Albedo’s shoulders drop.

“You’re not supposed to be home, yet.”

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Kaeya says and he forces himself to close the door silently behind him.

He doesn’t yet know what’s going on and it’s not going to help if he panics.

“I’m asking again, Albedo: what are you doing?”

“Giving you the greatest gift I could ever give you,” Albedo mumbles and throws his coat into a bag.

“And what is that?” Kaeya demands to know but he knows. Deep down he knows what Albedo is going to say.

That doesn’t mean he’ll have to accept it, though.

“Breaking up with you. I’ll be gone in a second.”

“Like hell you will,” Kaeya spits out and walks into the living-room. “What brought this on?”

Albedo doesn’t look as if he wants to answer him but Kaeya is not going to accept any of this. And especially not without a proper explanation, so he plants himself into the doorway, making sure that Albedo has nowhere to run to.

“Kaeya,” Albedo starts and just that is enough to tell Kaeya everything.

He does know him too well by now, after all.

“It’s because of your brother,” he says with a sigh and watches how Albedo flinches.

“Don’t call him that!” he hisses out but Kaeya doesn’t apologize.

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“And what if it is? What does it matter? I can’t stay here.”

“Ah, I see.” He walks into the living-room and sits down on the couch, trying for relaxed and apparently succeeding if Albedo’s confusion is anything to go by. “You’re not only leaving me, but you’re leaving Mondstadt. You’re running.”

“And what if I am! He’s still out there and he wants my life. He’s going to come for all of you and he will hurt you!”

“He already came for me,” Kaeya informs him with a small shrug and while he doesn’t enjoy the panic that flits over Albedo’s face it at least keeps him tethered to the spot.

“What do you mean he came for you? Are you hurt?” There’s panic in his voice too and Kaeya almost feels bad but then again, it’s only fair.

His heart is still beating in fear at the thought of Albedo leaving.

“Please, I am more capable than that. Besides, he didn’t try to hurt me.”

“Kaeya Alberich, you will tell me right this instant what happened!” Albedo demands and Kaeya gives him a small smile.

“Nothing happened. He had the audacity to show up, wearing your face, and I told him what would happen should he try that again.”

“You let him go?”

Albedo seems to have half a mind running out the door after his elusive brother and Kaeya can’t let him leave. Not when he doesn’t know if he’ll return to him.

“Albedo,” he rushes out and leans forward, catching Albedo’s hand in his. “Don’t. He’s just—he doesn’t know where he belongs.”

“What?”

“He was wearing your face, yes, but he wasn’t even doing anything. He was walking down the streets, simply taking everything in. When I found him he was staring at Flora’s flowers.”

“You talked to him?” Albedo doesn’t seem quite as willing to run anymore but Kaeya is still loathe to let go of his hand, so instead he threads their fingers together.

“Yes. I had to talk some sense into him, mh?”

“What did you do?” Albedo breathes out, and he sounds so fondly annoyed that Kaeya dares to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I gave him a choice. Either I kill him next time he shows up with your face, or he picks a face he can call his own and gets to have a place in this city.”

“Kaeya! He’s dangerous! You don’t know what he could do.”

“As dangerous as you or I? Or as Rosaria? Or Venti? Albedo, my love, the people in this city are hardly harmless. Yet we all choose to not hurt this city. If he chooses the same—who are we to judge.”

“Were you soft on him because he was wearing my face?” Albedo asks and it startles a laugh out of Kaeya.

“There’s no need to worry, sunshine. I knew immediately he wasn’t you.”

“How? He fooled everyone else on Dragonspine.”

“But I’m not everyone else. I know you. There is no disguise he could wear that would ever make me mistake him for you.” Kaeya leans back on the couch, pulling on Albedo’s hand until he stumbles right onto his lap. “Now are you quite done with being stupid or is there something else?”

“You act as if it could be that easy,” Albedo mumbles but he doesn’t move to get out of Kaeya’s lap, so he counts it as a win. “What if there are other’s out there?”

“Then we’ll deal with them, too. Hell, if it makes you feel better, I promise right now to even tell Rhinedottir to suck it should she ever come back and threaten you. No one gets to do that.”

Albedo lets out a scandalized gasp.

“Kaeya!”

“What? She’s just a woman, my love. Just like you are just a man. Now, are we going to have a fight that will end with you not leaving me anyway or can we skip that and cuddle?”

“You’re insufferable,” Albedo mutters, but he slings his arms around Kaeya’s neck. “I didn’t want to leave you. I just thought—”

“You would protect me,” Kaeya finishes for him and presses a kiss to his hair. “But there’s no need for that. We protect each other best when we stay together, alright?”

“Alright,” Albedo whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Kaeya gives back without hesitation and then—finally—he gets to do what he wanted to do all along.

Cuddle the love of his life on their couch in their home.

[dear-mrs-otome]

Silvio Ricci - Main Story - Chp 10

Standard Disclaimer: I do this for fun. I don’t, and never would, claim to be proficient at JP. There will be mistakes herein. There will be dialogue I choose to smooth out or change, because it feels choppy just straight translating. There will be the occasional snarky aside and irreverence and just plain summarizing. If you’re looking for 100% pure accuracy, without commentary or localizing, this is not for you. If you don’t mind that…then proceed, and I hope you enjoy! And please, support your local localizer (they make this stuff look easy) and Cybird by playing the games and routes when they come to English.

~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gilbert’s wily ways, Prince Keith suspects nefarious things of Emma. The only way for her to prove that she’s not an Obsidian spy would be to reveal her true identity...and in the midst of this desperate crisis that nearly brings her to tears, a person most unexpected appears.

"The way I see it…I don’t know her identity, but she’s the favorite mistress of a Rhodolite prince,” Silvio says to Keith. 

Keith’s grip on her neck is so tight that the slightest pressure would render her unable to breathe, and Silvio circles around to smile haughtily. It was a totally outrageous claim - and she can’t believe what she just heard come out of his mouth, given that she knows he knows she’s Belle.

Is he…trying to protect her?

“...Are you serious?” Keith asks. 

“Yeah, I mean it fits,” Silvio says. “If this mediocre woman is someone’s ‘favorite’ then it’s not hard to see why she’s in the castle, even if she doesn’t have anything special about her. If the eyepatch bastard’s got his eye on her, then she might be Chevalier or Leon’s girl, right?”

“Emma…is this true?” Keith turns to her.

“I-I can’t say.”With the gears of her brain finally starting to turn again, she opts for a neutral answer. Neither agreeing nor shooting the idea down, to keep plausible deniability in place. She makes a note to discuss the situation with Leon and Chevalier, and to leave vague as to whose mistress she might be while letting Keith continue to believe it. “But, like Prince Silvio claimed, as you can see I’m no Obsidian spy. That’s the one thing I can say with certainty.”

Keith is silent a long moment, studying her. “....I see.” He doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he does release her, and with the hold on her gone she can finally take a proper breath again. 

Wondering if she’s out of the woods yet, she casually puts some space between them and turns back to find Keith’s usual kind smile on his face once more. 

“My apologies, Miss Emma. It seems I was mistaken about you,” Keith says.

“Be careful, you dour bastard. Mess with this girl and you never know who you’ll make an enemy of,” Silvio warns.

Keith comments on the fact that Silvio is saying as much, but he brushes it off as not being worried. Then he moves to Emma’s side with a familiar jingle of jewelry - a sound that usually puts her on edge, but today it’s different.

“Prince Silvio…” She says his name, almost without meaning to, and is surprised by how feeble her own voice sounds. 

“Ha, where’s your usual sass?” He grins. “It’s weird to see you being so mild mannered.” 

She lets out a little sound of surprise as he hoists her up under an arm. Normally she’d have bitched him out for carrying her like this, but she didn’t even have the strength to fight back about it right now. 

“I’ll be taking the woman,” Silvio tells Keith. “You’ve finished your business with her, yeah?”

Keith agrees, and notes that she probably doesn’t want to be around him now either, before bidding her a goodbye she awkwardly acknowledges.

Being alone with Keith definitely sounds like something to avoid. If Silvio hadn't helped her, she might have -

A wave of terror swamps her, setting her whole body trembling. She tries her hardest to suppress it, so that it won't be noticed, but…it was impossible to hide from Silvio, who heaved a deep sigh.

~~~~~~~~

She's tossed into a nearby waiting carriage and the door closes, Silvio wordlessly taking a seat across from her. She'd been expecting him to mock her for her trembling, but his silence is an unexpected kindness.

"Thank you very much for your help," she ventures finally.

"As long as you've realized it, that's fine. You're too clueless. You didn't really think that dour bastard was a good prince, did you?"

"....I did," she concedes.

His sigh at that is pure exasperation. "Remember that he's a prince even if he's corrupt. A prince will be kind or cruel, whatever befits his country's self interest…that goes for me, the dour bastard, that eye patch bastard, and the Rhodolite princes."

“...Right. But why…” She trails off, and then continues when he frowns at her. “It would have been no skin off your nose if you’d just left things alone.”

If anything, she figures he would have wanted her forced into admitting she was Belle. It’s a surprise that he didn’t take the opportunity to work with Keith and force her into revealing her identity…and she still doesn’t understand why he lied for her sake.

When she searches those ocean eyes for his true intentions, Silvio turns away to stare off into the distance for some reason.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he warns her. “I did Rhodolite a favor by helping you out.” She counters that rather than currying a favor it would have been easier to seize on her moment of vulnerability and, but he cuts her off. “Yeah? Quit your yammering.”

He moves to sit beside her, mussing up her hair roughly as she protests. “What are you doing?!”

“We’re done talking about this. There’s no deep meaning to me saving you,” he insists, and she falls silent, staring at him. “And don’t give me that look. I’ll make you cry.”

If there really wasn’t some big reason for him helping her, then…this is bad.

She’d already guessed that there was more to Silvio than just the ‘arrogant tyrant’, but she wanted to stay blissfully unaware of that. Because if she knows that he’s actually a kind person, it’ll be impossible for her to act like she hates him.

No. If anything…

She brings that train of thought to a screeching halt, vehemently squashing the first flutters of warm fuzzy feeling. Telling herself it’s only her imagination that her heart is racing.

As if the silence has gotten to be too much for him, Silvio speaks up and asks why she’s not wearing her collar and she tells him she didn’t see the point when she wasn’t seeing him lately.

The mark he’d left had even faded away nicely, too.

He insists that’s not how this works, and that if she’s taken the collar off she must be prepared to face the consequences - she knows what happens if she doesn’t have it on.

“So you want to get bitten again then, Prince Silvio?” she warns.

“Do that and we’ll see how fun tossing you in jail for a year for rudeness might be,” he smirks. 

“...I don’t think you’d do that,” she argues, and he asks why not. “Because no matter how rude I am, you always let me get away with it.” He looks at her in surprise, and she finishes. “...I might take advantage of that, too.”

If Silvio really was a cruel prince, she wouldn’t be able to talk back to him like this.

After a short pause, Silvio musses her hair up again. “If you're aware that you take advantage of me, you’ll have to thank me for that and for the whole mess just now, won’t you?”

She asks if he’s got something in mind, and he grins and says she’s gotta have a drink with him.

“Again?” she asks.

“I don’t really like drinking alone.”

She wonders if that’s why he always invites her out, and eventually she agrees - she’ll go along with him today. Figuring it’ll make a good way to say thank you for today, at least.

~~~~~~~~

She’s thrown for a loop though when it’s not a bar they head to - instead, Silvio brings her to his room at the castle, matter of factly. 

“You said you’d come along wherever,” he reminds her, laughing at the way she’s standing dumbfounded in the doorway. 

She asks why they didn’t go to a tavern, and he says he didn’t feel like it - and that she shouldn’t worry, he’s not interested in a shabby-looking woman like her. 

“Well excuse me for looking so poor,” she fires back, relieved to have the momentary impression that he was pretty cool when he’d rescued her shattered once more.

He takes a bottle she’s never seen before down from a shelf in his room, something different from the usual rose wine he always drinks, and she asks what it is. He tells her it’s liquor he got from someone he knows, and warns her to be careful - it’s booze from the far north, and pretty strong. 

He’s taking her to his room, and offering her some strong alcohol? 

When she takes a wary step back, he sets the bottle down atop the table harder than necessary. “I told you I’m not going to attack you. When you’ve been through a rough patch, what you need is a stiff drink.” She doesn’t answer, and he relents. “If you don’t think you can handle it, I’ll get you something lighter.”

I must be losing it, she tells herself. She's well aware that she should be just as wary of Silvio as she should of Keith, but before she knows it she’s reaching for the bottle of northern booze and opening it. “I want to try it too.”

Silvio barks a laugh. “That so?”

Two glasses come out, the drinks are poured, and when he downs his without hesitating she follows suit. Immediately her whole body is on fire, and she gasps out that it’s stronger than she thought it was going to be.

Silvio explains that’s the whole point. Since it’s from the north where it’s cold, it’s supposed to help warm you up. He didn’t know it existed until going on a long voyage and opening a trade route there, and now it’s grown very popular in Benitoite, growing on everyone once they get used to its kick. 

“A long voyage?” she echoes. She’d heard him say as much just now, that he’d gotten aboard a ship and sailed to carve out a trade route, but still…

“You really don’t know the first thing about me.” Silvio sighs with amazement and sits down on the sofa.

She joins him, perching on the edge and taking another sip of her drink. “I earn my fortune through business. But to make it grow, I have to visit every country. A long time ago, Benitoite only traded with her neighbors. But there are so many other countries on the continent, it’d be a waste to just ignore those, wouldn’t it? That’s why I’ve been on sailing trips many times since I was a kid. I’ve opened up trade routes with many of those countries.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” she admits. She knew he was good at business, but she hadn’t realized on just how large of a scale. Benitoite is a country full of flourishing merchants, so Silvio’s contributions are undoubtedly impressive. “What exactly is going on a voyage like?”

“It’s hell,” he answers immediately, and she echoes him in confusion.

“Spending months in tight quarters with a bunch of grimy men. Your life is constantly at risk at sea, and pirates will attack you. I almost died many times…it’s a miracle I survived some of them. Sailing is nothing but a load of shit.”

He seems pretty convinced of this, and she realizes calling it an ‘adventure’ probably romanticizes things a bit. “But you still go out to sea even despite that?”

“Yeah. Voyages like that are necessary to improve our country. If I want the throne, it’s gotta be done.”

When she questions him about the throne, he finishes his drink and reaches for the bottle again. Looking utterly unfazed despite the strength of the drink. And then he tells her how Benitoite has a system of succession just as Rhodolite does.”Only in Benitoite the old man chooses his successor based on recognition of their merits and achievements, rather than order of birth. Then there’s a damned annoying rule that he passes on the ring handed down from king to king.”

She’s pretty sure she just heard him refer to the king as ‘old man’, which she tries to wrap her head around. “So even though you’re the eldest, it’s not a given that you’re picked.”

“Yeah. There’s other candidates, but one’s not fit to rule and the other is a coward. I’m certain the throne will be mine.”

It’s the first she’s heard that he’s got two other brothers, and she thinks about how the Rhodolite princes don’t necessarily all want the throne or plan to ascend. “You want the throne, then.”

“Obviously,” he agrees. “Whatever it is, I aim for the top - that’s just how I do things.  Oh, but that's right…" Silvio stops, a thoughtful look on his face, before breaking out in a grin. "If I become king, maybe I'll rethink my relationship with Rhodolite?"

"Rethink…your relationship?"

The nonchalant way he said that, long legs crossed and idly toying with his glass, has her alarmed.

“I could break the alliance and join forces with another country…Obsidian, for example,” he smirks. 

“You’re joking…right?” she asks, aghast.

Silvio sobers and says he’s not - the very fact that Gilbert’s tossed his hat into the diplomatic ring means that it’s a possibility. If Obsidian is considering a path of cooperation, it’s at least worth thinking over. 

She can see exactly what would happen to Rhodolite if that were to become so. Without the backing of Benitoite, Obsidian would happily invade them, and the potential for trade with Obsidian would outweigh the risks Benitoite would face in standing down against them. 

It doesn’t exactly sound like the sort of casual conversation topic you’d bring up over a few drinks. 

“Well…if Rhodolite has something it can offer me, that would be a different story. What does this country have that can outweigh military might and quality ore, woman?” Silvio asks.

Shaken, she tries to think. “Our wine is delicious.”

He points out that there are plenty of other good drinks out there, and she scrambles for more. The most beautiful roses on the entire continent? Their flourishing art culture? Fascinating literature? He doesn’t seem impressed by any of these, and she’s wracking her brain for something of the sort of ‘value’ that Silvio would seek. 

But she comes up empty handed, and he laughs arrogantly at her silence. 

“Your whole job as hostess is to try and show me why Rhodolite is a great country while I’m here,” he tells her. “You’ve been dodging me a lot lately…but don’t forget that the fate of your country depends on this.”

It doesn't seem like just some idle joke, and her grip on her glass tightens.

"If you want to quit being a hostess, you can. I won't argue," he offers.

She can't believe that a simple conversation over drinks has taken such a turn for the serious, the future of her country hanging in the balance. It doesn't sound like something spur of the moment - rather like something he's been considering for awhile.

She considers it just as carefully in return, before finally telling him that she feels like she has a better grasp on what being a hostess means now. He’s silent at that, and she continues. “...You’re on! I’ll be the host that shows you what a fascinating place Rhodolite is!”

Declaring such cuts off any chance she’d have to keep avoiding him…but strangely enough, she doesn’t feel all that inclined to anymore. She doesn’t mind, because she knows his heart. 

He lets out a laugh. “If you can bark that cheekily, there’s no need to worry anymore, is there? I knew you’d look better with a determined face than one about to cry.”

She’s taken aback by the way his formerly harsh expression suddenly softens, realizing he’s slyly played her here…and she knocks back the entirety of her drink all at once to avoid the sight of his unexpected smile. Desperately trying to squash a feeling that should not exist.

“Hey,” Silvio says, alarmed. “Don’t just down that all at once, it’s a pretty strong drink you know.”

“I’m fine,” she assures him.

Only to recognize in the next moment she is, in fact, not. Her head is spinning, everything losing focus as he scoffs at her reply. Muzzily she realizes she’s definitely drunk - and not feeling good at all. All of her thoughts wiped blank by the booze, and dizziness swamps her.

A large hand grasps her listing body and steadies her. She mumbles out a request for him to not mind, and he asks where all her caution has gone off to.

Clicking his tongue before his hands guide her to lie down on the sofa on her side, slipping a cushion under her head. 

She’s trying to scold herself…but then thinks that maybe, just maybe she doesn’t hate Silvio anymore. But as she closes her eyes, she vows to herself to keep those sentiments under lock and key. 

~~~~~~~~

After a bit, her even breaths are evidence of her of her peaceful slumbering.

“You’ve got some real nerve, falling asleep over drinks with a prince,” Silvio tells her. 

He pokes her on the cheek, but gets no response at all. Following that up the back of his hand strokes her cheek as if checking for a fever…and for some reason, she smiles. Surprised, he asks if she woke up, and starts to snatch his hand back, only to stop. 

“You look like a ninny…what are you dreaming about?” he wonders, taking in her incredibly happy expression. Lost in pondering that, when she mumbles.

“Mm…Rio…”

He startles, as she giggles a bit in her sleep, and his expression darkens. The peaceful atmosphere of only moments ago shattered. 

“I was going to send you back to your room without doing anything.” He climbs to his feet, looking down at Emma sleeping on his sofa - his eyes more akin to a savage dog than any proud tyrant. “I’ve changed my mind.”

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[unordinarywarlord]

I’m kind of pissed off over this guy that’s been living with us and dating my mom. It’s not over the fact their dating, it just that this guy is terrible! He expects my mom to always prepare food for him when gets home even though she also works and has days where she doesn’t want to prepare food for him when he could prepare food too! But that’s only a small part of why I’m pissed off. Recently my mom and the guy went to my grandparents to help my grandfather and keep him company while my (step)grandmother was visiting her family. Awhile after they came back from this trip while my sister was at someone else’s house dog sitting for them, the guy and my mom are having dinner on the island counter while i’m eating at my favorite spot at a table next to a window when my mom gets my attention. She’d asked me if anyone came over while she was gone. I was confused because she should know I always call her if someone was, in fact i had called her about someone coming to the house. “No one was here except that exterminator guy.” What mom said next made me start paying attention to the conversation. “See, no one was here! Just the exterminator!” As i listened to the on going argument it sounded like the guy was accusing my sister of letting a black guy with dreads come stay at the house while they were gone. Not that there’s anything wrong about this supposed guy, the only problem the guy had was that someone was over here while he wasn’t here. But, no one was here, just me and my sister. She wasn’t even “talking” with anyone with that description and definitely doesn’t know anyone with the model car the guy said was parked out front. Mom asked about the exterminator guy, who did not fit the description, besides the guy drove a truck for the equipment he needed to spray the house with so bugs don’t get in. I of course told my sister about it as I listened to this argument, now in my room and them in there’s as they argued extremely loudly. I just sat on my bed with my sister on my phone as recounted how ridiculous this guy’s argument is. My mom didn’t even care if someone was over or not. That’s how much she trusts us! Besides even if my sister did invite someone, nothing nefarious would even happen as at least my sister has decent taste in guys and like I said, I was home. I couldn’t go anywhere because I’d just moved from my dad’s house to my mom’s for a change of pace. So for the whole week I was living off of my savings and going everywhere my sister wanted to go to with her to get out of the house because my car still wasn’t at the house yet. The only times i didn’t go out with my sister was when she had work and on Saturday night that week when she had a date. Even then she came home early upset because it was an extremely terrible date, as the dude was selfish and even forced my sister to kiss him(which i’m still pissed about because there was no consent 😤) So she went to the gym for about an hour and came back to sweat off how horrible the date was. This wasn’t even the end of it. Last night I was up late because stress was feeding my anxiety when I heard my mom’s voice loudly. I only noticed it because she had mentioned my name. They were still going on about a conversation that was a week ago. She’d accused the guy of calling me a liar because he’d been adamantly saying that I was covering for my sister. Except everyone in my family knows I’m a terrible liar. Anytime I even tried to lie I always pause because I’m thinking of what lie i’m going to give, as for when I tell the truth I straight give an answer as soon as the threads in my head connect the question to the answer. I don’t even have the compulsion to lie. So I told my sister, so now we’re both just waiting for the argument to continue and after awhile it does, but I can’t make out the words anymore, but my sister’s room is closer. She told me the guy wanted to put cameras up to watch her, like wtf dude? That’s an invasion of privacy and human rights I’m sure. It’s definitely not okay at all.

[epicspheal]

"I was reading different reviews on the Pokemon rivals and a lot of the criticism for Silver is in how much of a jerk he is, never tries to fight Team Rocket, keeps calling the player weak even when you beat him, he repeats his mantra like an obsessed emotional parrot and stupidly challenges you to a battle on Rocket grounds then ruins your disguise, hands off buddy? Which yeah, his writing was messy but I love him anyways. He's my trash gremlin son. "He don't bite." "Yes, HE DO?!" Eight-year old neglected kid logic is a mess. Which brings me to trying to figure out why exactly he so desperately wants to prove that you don't need bonds to be strong. I think that Giovanni does care for his Pokemon, and to some degree, the TR goons working under him. And I think Silver saw some of that growing up, maybe even the loyalty people like Archer had towards his father, and they called that "strength." But then that strength failed. And Giovanni left him. So it goes like this. "If I don't prove that it's possible to be strong on your own, then that means what my father was doing was right, but I hate him! He left me, that can't be right! He used bonds (between the Rockets) to stomp on the weak, but couldn't face challenges on his own. That must mean HE was weak, and that's why he ran away. Team Rocket says the weak are worthless and should be let go, so it's me who doesn't need him. It's not that he didn't need me, right?!" 😅 Trying my best, what do you think?

Anonymous Ask

Hi there anon! First off I want to apologize for the lateness of me answering this ask...I thought I could get to it sooner but medical school said "Nope" But on to your ask, I think Silver's a great character but like most characters pre-gen 5 he suffers from writing problems. Namely, a lot of stuff happens in off-screen land. Now off-screen development isn't inherently bad as you can always fit everything into the on-screen narrative. But it has to be balanced and I think a lot of the criticisms about never seeing him fight Team Rocket would've been solved if we did get to see him fight on screen more. As you mentioned, he's a kid with daddy issues. The fact people expect him to...not act like a kid in some regards and criticize him for being childish will forever baffle me (but then a lot of the criticisms lobbed at characters from Blue to Hop can be countered with "They are a child what do you expect from them? I know grown adults who would act just like that or worse" So yeah he tends to still call the player weak even after they beat him multiple times. He does eventually stop doing that it takes a while...like how most habits and worldviews take time to change. And yeah he repeats that mantra because again he has a very strong worldview tied to some really personal events in his life. Sounds like a good majority of people regardless of age happen to hang on to something that maybe isn't the best or healthiest thing to hold on to. I mean people are free to like or dislike Silver as a character but you know I swear some of the criticisms that are lobbed at him and 90% of the kid characters in Pokemon could be countered with "they're a human child, they're not grown and even if they were grown they're not perfect". To your question as to why he held on for so long that bonds aren't needed to be strong, I think you hit some solid points about what the cause is. Growing up Silver watched Giovanni cultivate an underground empire via Team Rocket. Any organization to succeed needs bonds, although they don't have to be buddy-buddy in nature. And as we see in Pokemon Origins and to a lesser extent in the Pokemon anime that Giovanni perhaps does genuinely care for his team. Although in multiple media Giovanni definitely refers to Pokemon as tools, so his thoughts may have changed as he grew older (as was implied in Pokemon Origins). Or he could be bluffing. Who knows? And then as you mentioned Giovanni ditched him. One of the strongest bonds in the world is supposed to be between a parent and a child and yet Giovanni gave the middle finger to that and Silver. I also wonder if Silver heard that Giovanni was taken down by a lone child (Red) which if he did would likely help to further his belief that one person on their own is strong enough So young Silver saw how much Giovanni relied on others in order to make his dream come true. And he also felt the sting of abandonment firsthand at a young age. That right there is enough to give him that outlook on bonds and be wary of relying on others when they can drop you at any time. Which as you mentioned would've motivated him to try to become strong without them. It's flawed and childish, yes, but given what he grew up with it makes sense why his mind would come to those conclusions. A lot of times kids aspire to be not like their parental figures and will try tactics opposite their guardians. The thing is, Silver is missing a lot of nuance. He is right though in that you can be a weak person if you find yourself overly reliant on others. Sometimes you have to stand on your own two feet when no one else is around (or willing) to help out. You have to be willing to stand on your own, but also stand together (and have the discernment to know when's the best time to do either). And because Giovanni's bonds with his organization are built up on more nefarious connections it's a lot easier for him to be betrayed and potentially crushed by those bonds. Yes, I know in general Team Rocket has a lot of loyalty to Giovanni, but I always think of the Masked Marauder from the 4th Pokemon movie who was an elite rocket agent who eventually wanted to overthrow Giovanni, so the loyalty of his subordinates is not absolute.  

[erimeows]

Yellow Roses

The first time was a learning experience.

Bumblebee had been innocent to the ways of human gift-giving back then, unsure of what to get or where to get it, but after using the internet and looking up where to buy gifts for humans, he found that there was a gift shop down the street from where the Autobot base was, and he begged and pleaded with Sari for some of her allowance money “for something important”.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to get. What he was sure of, though, was that he was completely enamored with you and had been since day one- and he couldn’t bring himself to confess yet, but if he didn’t channel his feelings somehow, they were going to burst.

But as he approached the gift shop on that sunny day in Detroit, no other than Optimus Prime walked out and bumped into him. Thankfully, before he could fall back at the impact, Optimus reached out and caught him, placing him back on his feet with one strong servo. 

“P-Prime, hey!” Bumblebee grinned and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. He knew he wasn’t guilty of anything nefarious, per say, but he had no idea how Optimus would feel about him being in love with a human and wanting to buy gifts for said human with money that wasn’t his. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, nothing much...” The other Autobot blatantly lied and hid a bouquet of blue and gold flowers that Bee didn’t know the name of behind his back, face burning the brightest shade of red the smaller bot had ever seen it. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I don’t know, I mean, what do humans even like?” Bumblebee muttered without thinking, and upon seeing Optimus’s optics widen, he raised his servos defensively and shook his head. “I mean, uh-! Never mind! What’s up with the flowers?”

“Ah,” Optimus gave an awkward grin and held the flowers in front of him instead of continuing to hide them, probably realizing that it was too late and Bumblebee had already seen them. The younger bot wondered if they were for Optimus or for someone else, but he didn’t dare ask, only listening to his leader talk. “I learned that unlike some other organic planets, on earth, it’s considered rude to pick plants if they’re in close proximity to someone’s home or in front of a public building or park unless they’re a specific type called weeds, which flowers aren’t, but I wanted to buy some for someone, so I came here to pick them up after asking Sari about it. Are you gift buying, too?”

“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Bumblebee looked away and held his forearm in one servo, anxiously shifting his weight between his stabilizing servos. It felt like him and Optimus Prime had reached into the cookie jar and caught each other. 

Bumblebee didn’t dare ask who the flowers were for even though he was dying to know in fear that Optimus would ask who he was at the gift shop for in return. An uncomfortable silence fell onto them momentarily, both of them quiet and staring at each other with the noise of traffic and the bustling Detroit citizens walking on the pavement who kept passing by to keep them company.

“I’ve been doing some reading since Sari’s birthday is in a few months,” Optimus tried to continue the conversation and cleared his throat. “The customs for gift giving can involve about anything when it comes to human girls, but the most common are flowers, books, chocolates, jewelry, clothing, video games, or gifts of practicality, which just seem to be hygiene products and things they can use in their daily lives. Gift cards and vouchers with money on them are also common, but considered less personable, so I wouldn’t go that route if you’re close with the one you’re buying for unless they specifically ask for it.”

“Oh... I gotcha. Good ideas, bossbot!” Bumblebee smiled again, the corners of his lip-plates sore from how forced it was due to his nerves.

What if Optimus had figured it out? That would defeat the whole point of his plan; buy you nice things and leave them at your door in the middle of the night without his name attached. It was simple and easy, but if Optimus knew before he even got to try it?

Well. That made it a lot harder.

Thankfully, though, Optimus gave him a nod and bid him a good afternoon, then walked away.

Bumblebee found himself letting out a sigh of relief.

Thank Primus...

...Hours later, Bumblebee regretted all of his life decisions. He was sitting, holed up in his room with one audial pressed up against your wall. It was a terrible habit of his, but he eavesdropped on you pretty frequently when he heard bits and pieces of you talking through the wall, and he was doing it right now.

He wasn’t sure how he had expected it to go, but when he dropped the bouquet of yellow roses at your bedroom doorstep when you were out for lunch and no one was in the halls, he had hoped that you would simply take the flowers, appreciate them, and never say another word. However, you were currently telling Sari about it, which made sense considering that the young girl dropped by your room often and asked you to do her hair or makeup as an excuse to spend time with you- you were an adult, a lot older than Sari, but the two of you got along very well considering that you were the only one who actually knew how to take care of her properly when Isaac Sumdac wasn’t around.

“I have no idea!” You exclaimed, no doubt in reference to the flowers. Bumblebee cringed. What if Sari made the connection that the money he had borrowed from her was for that? What if she told everyone, or what if you told everyone, and Prime realized why he was at that gift shop and let his secret slip? “I can only assume it was you or one of the guys, but like... I don’t know who.”

“Yeah, I have no idea! It wasn’t me, I would’ve just given ‘em to you. We should dig deeper, (y/n)!”

Oh. Oh, Primus, no. 

“I’m not sure, Sari, whoever it was probably dropped it off like that for a reason,” Bumblebee heard you sigh, and at the same time, he let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you would just forget about it and-

“Wait! Do you have a secret admirer!?”

Dammit. Maybe not.

“I... Highly doubt that, the only one I’d be interested in anyways is-” You started, and then cut yourself off in a way that made Bumblebee’s spark shatter and crumble into little pieces inside his chassis. You were single, but you were already into someone? What if it wasn’t him? He’d understand, of course- Prime was stronger, Prowl was smooth, Bulkhead was talented, and Ratchet was intelligent. Compared to them, he felt like he didn’t have much to offer you. Everyone around him was amazing, and he was just there, but... He loved you, and he wanted you to know how loved you were. So, whether you’d love him back or not, he’d keep giving everything he had to you; even if the way in which he went about it was indirect. “Actually, never mind, but your braids are done-”

“No, wait, you can’t just gloss past that!” Sari whined. Bee almost didn’t want to hear the rest of your discussion, but he couldn’t keep himself from listening. “Who is it, who is it!?

“Let’s just go play Animal Crossing in the living room, we can talk about all of that at a later date, yeah?” You offered, voice laced with both your amusement and confusion. 

“Fine, fine, but you have to tell me soon! Pinky promise.”

“Fine, pinky promise. Now let’s go.”

Bumblebee heard your door open and close, followed by what he presumed to be you and Sari’s footsteps in the hallway. The sound eventually dissipated.

The Autobot was left to lay back on his berth and stare at the ceiling with a huff.

You were telling others about the gift he left, trying to get to the bottom of it, and you were into someone or somebot he didn’t even know about.

What had he gotten himself into?

-

The second time, he felt a little better about it. It was a week later and he hadn’t heard any discussion of the subject amongst the other Autobots, so he assumed nothing had come from it.

But, as he lounged on the living room couch, he jumped upon you sitting down on the couch’s arm- right by where his head was laid.

It made sense that he had been jumpier around you over the past few days. Part of it was the usual I’m-in-love-with-you-and-super-tense-about-it jumpiness that he had become accustomed to, but it was made worse by the fact that he was guilty; guilty of keeping a secret from you, of indirectly lying to you. He could’ve done it the one time with the roses and let it die down after, but when you’d talked about your old game controller breaking the night before at the dinner table, he hadn’t been able to help himself- he went and got it along with a new bouquet of yellow roses, left it in front of your room later that night, knocked, and ran away.

It was the next day, and understandably, he’d been anxious about it. It was better than the first time, but he was just hoping you wouldn’t talk about it.

Of course, he was never that lucky, and you looked at him with the controller literally in your hands. 

“Hey, Bee, do you know anything about this?” You asked.

Had he been caught? Did you know? Or were you just trying to get information from him in case he knew something? Unsure, he decided to play it safe and act oblivious. 

“Huh? What’s that?”

“I’m taking that as a no, but someone left this new controller on my doorstep with a bouquet of roses? I needed a new one, but I only mentioned it to you and the others, so I think it’s one of you guys... But this is the second time I’ve received a gift without any name on it and I’m really confused. I’ve done some asking around, but the only one who seems to know anything is Optimus, and he won’t give me any hints and insists that he has no idea what I’m talking about.”

Great. So, Optimus probably realized why Bumblebee had been at the gift shop last week. Well... From what you said, it sounded like Optimus was at least decent enough to stay out of his business and keep the secret for him- or try to, at least. 

“Yeah? That’s weird, I don’t really know why he’d be like that about it... Wanna play Streetfighter?”

“Sure, but I’m just super confused, man,” You muttered, turning on the playstation and giving a frustrated huff. The game quickly turned on, and while Bee took the old controller, you connected your brand new one and chose your stage, your character being Akuma. Bee chose Ken to fight with and listened to you continue as the game started. “I thought the first time might’ve just been a one-off thing, but it’s happened again, and the flowers were one thing, but now it’s flowers and a new controller. Anyone else would be creeped out, and I’m not creeped out- more flattered than anything since I know it’s from you or one of the other Autobots- but this is really expensive... I’d at least like to be able to say thank you!”

“That makes sense, I think I’d feel the same way,” The black and yellow bot mumbled. The game had hardly started and he was already losing due to his inability to focus- it was so bad that he couldn’t even combat you when you crowded his character into the corner and kicked him over and over and over again. His health bar dropped to zero, signaling that you’d won round one.

Round two started, and he did a little better; actually jumping away from your cornering attempts and offering some blasts and punches, but by the time it ended, he’d only gotten you down to half health, and you were delivering your final blow. Ken fell to the ground, Akuma still standing. 

You didn’t even press replay despite being player one. No, instead, you let out a huff and stared at the ceiling. Bumblebee found himself resting his helm against your thigh without thinking, enjoying the warmth against his faceplates. You two were best friends, very comfortable with each other and with physical affection, so you didn’t mind it, only running a gentle hand over one of his audials in return. 

Both of you set your controllers down. It was obvious that both of you were so focused on the subject of your anonymous gifts that the game didn’t catch either of your interests like it usually would. 

“I might try to ask Optimus about it again tomorrow... Information extraction,” You joked, but Bumblebee quickly sat up and objected. 

“Wait, I don’t think that’s such a good idea!”

“Huh? Why not? He’s the only one who’s given me so much as a reaction,” You argued and stood up to turn the game system off, then started pacing around the room. “And I guess his eyes getting all wide ‘n stuff may have just been something else, but like... It’s all I’ve got to go on.”

“Yeah, but you know how the bossbot is,” Bee stood as well, trying his hardest not to look like he was in the midst of blowing a circuit from the panic that was currently taking over his processor. “He shuts down when you push him too hard. If he knows anything about it, you gotta wait for him to come to you with that sweet info.”

“You’re probably right, Bee, thanks for the advice,” You smiled, and then walked to him to put a hand on his shoulder plate. “I’m gonna go to bed, ‘kay? Goodnight.”

You looked into his optics, and oh Primus, he was gone; your eyes were such a beautiful shade of (e/c), and your smile was so beautiful, and you were so beautiful, and he was so in love-

Quickly, he realized that he was taking too long to respond, so he quickly stammered something out.

“G-Goodnight...” 

And then, you left, swiftly turning and walking out of the living room.

Bumblebee found himself letting out a sigh of relief, but at the same time, he missed you desperately.

He wished he’d given you a hug goodnight.

And, as he stood alone in the dark living room, he thought back to how exactly he’d ended up in his current predicament; painfully in love with a human, giving them things without having the courage to do it face-to-face, life feeling like it was falling apart with every hour that passed without him being able to kiss you and tell you how much he loved you like he so desperately wanted to. 

He’d loved you from the very start, and as bold as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you- he was just too scared, but...

What if this was what finally gave it away...?

-

The third time was what ended up blowing his cover. He should’ve left it alone, and he had told himself that after the last time- it was far too close of a call when you talked about Optimus knowing something, and he was so obvious with his own emotions during that, too... He wouldn’t do it again.

But then, he was shopping with Sari that day and saw a (f/c) hoodie that was just your size and style, and he decided you had to had it. So, when Sari was distracted at a different store, he got the hoodie, along with a new notebook, some pens, and a stuffed bee. He bought the gifts for you and put them in a nice gift bag with some paper, then left them by your door and disappeared before anyone could see him. 

He was sitting in the living room yet again. It was late at night, and though him and his team had spent most of that night playing board games and catching up with a movie playing in the background, they’d all went to bed hours ago, leaving him to think by himself.

He’d lost at every game; Uno, Monopoly, Candyland, Sorry, Cards Against Humanity, and Scrabble, all because he was staring at you the entire time. 

Why couldn’t he just get over himself and confess already? It was selfish to keep hiding from you, because what if the one you’d mentioned being interested in was actually him? And even if it wasn’t him, was it fair for you to think that he saw you as a friend when he was secretly in love with you? Was it fair for you to keep receiving gifts and never knowing who they were from? 

Speak of the devil, though- the second Bumblebee looked up from where he was standing in the middle of the room, you were leaning against the doorway, wearing the hoodie he’d bought you and a pair of pajama shorts. You looked sleepy with your (h/l) (h/c) hair a mess and your soft hands rubbing the bleariness out of your (e/c) eyes. 

“Bee?” You mumbled.

“(y/n), where’d you just come from? You look tired! You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m tired, but I’m fine. I was in the hallway, kinda waiting for everyone else to go to bed so I could talk to you, but... It took me a minute to come in here.” Bumblebee walked towards you and raised his optical ridge. His spark sank to the floor because oh Primus, was this it? Was it finally happening?

“Oh, uh... Why do you need to talk to me alone? What’s up?”

You averted your gaze and gently grabbed one of his servos with your hand, holding it tightly. Bumblebee took a sharp intake. You were about to start talking, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. 

“I know it’s you,” You confessed with a guilty smile. Bumblebee froze in place and cringed. “I feel bad, but my curiosity was killing me, so I asked around some more and did a lot of prying- Optimus seemed like he was hiding something when I talked to him about it, so I pried until he gave up and told me that he suspected it was you; that he’d seen you at a gift shop the day I got the first bouquet, that he’d seen you lingering in the hallways the past few times I’ve gotten something, etcetera. He gave me enough details that I pieced it together, so... Yeah.”

“Well, at least it’s out of the way,” Bumblebee laughed out loud, and surprisingly, you smiled back at him. This wasn’t how he wanted it to come out, but he wasn’t sure it would have come out at all if not for this. “Getting human money without a real job is hard! Glad I could at least confess without having to do it so much that I went bankrupt.”

“Bee...” You started again, peering up at him, but he felt like he wasn’t ready for what was going to happen next. Were you about to reject him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

“Well, now that that’s done, I’m gonna go ahead and go to bed! I could use a really good recharge right about now-”

“Bee-” You cut him off with a pout and gripped his servo, obviously not done, but he only continued in hopes that you would give it up and let him escape the situation. 

“Goodnight, (y/n)-”

“Bee!” You yelled and pulled him towards you by his wrist so you could get in his face. “For God’s sake, man, stop and listen to me talk for a second!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I just-” He tossed his hands up defensively, ready to spill his circuits out, only for you to cut him off.

“You don’t think I love you back, right? You’re such a dolt!” You exclaimed. 

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Bumblebee yelled back at you, processor only catching the insult before he thought back on ‘I love you back’ and froze. “...Oh. Sorry.”

“I mean I’ve loved you for months now! Even before I realized it, I think I would’ve been more than open to dating you at any point in time, I mean... You’re pretty great. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well, uh-” Bumblebee stopped and took in a deep intake, then sighed and linked your fingers with his digits so he could hold your hand properly. The anxiety that had been building up over you for so long now was finally leaving his body and being replaced by relief.“I don’t know. I feel kinda stupid now.”

“C’mere,” You mumbled and wrapped an arm around him. He hugged you back, taking you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head... He could get used to that. You were warm and soft as you relaxed your body against his and allowed yourself to be held. You let go of his servo in favor of curling your hands and arms up by his chest. “Thank you for the gifts. They were really sweet and I loved them all, so... I’ll be sure to return the favor.”

“Return the favor? This is more than enough to return the favor!” He grinned, only hugging you tighter. “I’ve always wanted to just, like, hug you like this-”

“You can kiss me, too, if you want,” You offered, which had him pulling back to look down at you, spark lit aflame. 

“Really?” Bumblebee asked, just to be sure.

“Of course.”

There was a moment of silence; hesitance from both ends. It was true that, while both of you had been physically affectionate as friends, you’d never kissed, and Bumblebee had certainly never kissed a human. He’d been waiting for this moment for so long, but he had no idea what to do now that it was actually happening. 

Thankfully, you took the initiative and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hands on the back of his neck. You looked up at him one more time before standing on your tip-toes so you could gently press your lips against his. Bumblebee was frozen still for a moment as he processed your warm, soft lips against his cool metal plating, but after the tension faded, he found himself resting his servos on your hips and melted into it. 

One kiss turned into many; again, again, and again, you moved your lips against his in a manner so intoxicating that he couldn’t get enough of it.

Eventually, though, you pulled away and smiled up at him, but now that he had gotten to kiss you like that, he couldn’t help but want more. 

“I, uh... I’m not sure the favor has been returned yet,” Bumblebee averted his optics from your eyes, able to feel his spark beating faster. “I might need one more kiss just to be sure-”

You chuckled, cutting him off by leaning up again and sloppily pushing your lips against his- and, with that, he was gone.

[palbabor-writes]

Adhesion

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, TA/student dynamics, tw.mild drug use, tw.bribery, tw.recording without consent, tw.dubcon, brat taming, fingering, cucking 

Words: 8,915

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

Notes: i bribed @libiraki and this fic is my part of the bargain. you heard it here folks, full stop, i am trash. 

this story falls under the University AU that i’m working on: Licentia Docendi - the first fic is Practicum & is all about Professor Shigaraki. For Adhesion, Dabi is a TA: Teacher’s Assistant in a college chemistry class. 

my reward for completing this is User 433 by libiraki. go read it, it’s killer & i’m so fucking pleased my nefarious deeds have paid off.     

Adhesion ad·he·sion /ədˈhēZH(ə)n/ noun the molecular force of attraction in the area of contact between two unlike bodies that acts to hold them together

What time did he say this was supposed to start at? There’s no way you’re late. Did he tell you the wrong room number? You paw into your low slung backpack and wiggle out the [Teacher’s Assistant (TA) handout for Organic Chemistry II]. Nope, you’re not in the wrong room, so it looks like he’s the one who’s late. 

Not too surprising, judging from his appearance. 

You’d only caught a glimpse of him that morning. He’d sauntered to the front of class when the professor had finished with the preliminaries of the syllabus and introduced the lanky man with inky black hair and some of the scruffiest clothes you’d ever seen, as nothing other than, DABI. No last name, no other credentials, just a simple, ah, here’s the TA for this class; he’ll give you a handout on meeting times and be sure to follow his lead with the labs. This Dabi fellow hadn’t even grunted out a hello. He’d merely waited, hands tucked firmly into his jacket pockets, and dropped down from the raised platform once the professor finished his brief introduction. 

You tend to avoid the TA sessions. They’re usually just reviews and endless reminders on the readings, and study prep has never been a weak spot for you, but this semester is different. You’re a junior and you’ve got to push through six classes this term if you want to graduate on time. You haven’t slacked off, haven’t taken less than a full course load. No, it’s just bad luck that they only offered organic chemistry during the Fall term this year.

Thanks to the addition of Organic Chemistry, now all of your classes are heavy sciences. Ick. Well, it’s the price you’ll have to pay for your pharmaceutical degree. It’s not that you don’t like the classes. Honestly, they’re fascinating, chock full of information and techniques that you love to dive into. Nah, it’s not the material of the classes themselves, but the course load and labs that’ll be your downfall if you don’t keep pace. 

So, here you are, waiting in an empty room in the library’s basement for the errant TA of organic chemistry to show. You’re a little shocked that no one else has come to this session. Maybe they’ll try for the other times, or they might be under the blissful impression that they can score the ‘A’ with no outside help. Who knows? 

You’re twiddling with your phone and debating leaving when the study hall door opens. His dark hair is the first thing you notice. It gleams in the bright light of the fluorescents, and you’re distracted by the sheen. It’s almost a little too black. 

It’s not that it doesn’t fit him. If anything, it makes the angled features of his face and neck stand out and draws your eyes to his pale patches of skin. They’re patches because his collarbone and lower neckline are wrapped with spiraling whorls of tattoos; they’re everywhere. How had you missed that? Was his jacket zipped up when he stood in front of the class?

“What’s up?” he calls out, tilting his chin at your wide eyes. He pauses beside the table you’re sitting at and regards you frankly. His eyes are half hidden by his fringed mop of hair, but you can see that they’re a vibrant blue. It’s a haunting color, almost otherworldly. You don’t particularly like the coldness that’s reflected at you, so you focus on the rest of his face instead. He’s got a few nostril piercings, three little studs that shine out when he wrinkles his nose at your bewildered expression. 

“You hard of hearing or something?” Dabi scolds, crossing his arms and glaring down at you. You shake your head and loosen your heavy tongue, finally pulling your gaze away from him. 

“I-I’m here for the TA session.”

“No fucking way!” he mocks, a barked laugh escaping his quirked lips. “Alright captain obvious, let’s get you set up so I can go about my day. Sign this and I’ll give you the power point slides for this week.”

He yanks his backpack forward and tosses a few mismatched papers your way. One is so badly crumpled you have to iron it out with your arm, ignoring the slight stick that clings to one side. Ah, it’s a sign-up sheet. But, hang on, isn’t he supposed to poll the class on these meeting times? He can’t just pick the times himself, can he? You’ve never seen that before. What’s going on?

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to ask which time works best for us before you set the schedule?” you question, sliding the paper back to him. 

His long fingers catch the sheet before it can tumble off of the narrow table and he gives you a wolfish smirk. “Ah, you’re gonna be one of those,” he grumbles, pulling back one chair and flopping into it, splaying his long legs out in front of him. 

“Tch, what do you mean by, ‘one of those?’ I’m not some green freshman, I’ve been to TA meetings before. You ask us for the times.”

“Hmph, okay. Let’s put it this way then, you’re here now, right?”

“Yeah. I–”

“So it’s fair for me to assume that you can make this time?”

“I can today, but what if it’s a one-time thing? What if I have another class or a job?”

“Do you?” his voice drops as he lingers on that ultimate word, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward, blue eyes watching you closely. 

“N-no, I don’t personally have any objections to this time. But what if others–”

“Others?” he scoffs. “I’m sorry, do you see anyone else in here? We’ve been talking, what, five minutes? And I was, eh, almost fifteen minutes late? That sound right? Hate to say it, but I think it’s just gonna be me and you babe.” 

“Ew. Don’t call me that! It’s (F/N)(L/N). Gross, who does that? Babe? You don’t even know me,” you sputter, leaning away from his hunched gaze, earning yourself another clipped chuckle. 

“Ooh, so sensitive! Alright, miss. “I’m not a freshman,” if there are no more objections from the peanut gallery, go ahead and sign this so I can conclude this session. Don’t particularly like chatting with you either, since you’re taking years off my life with these pointless questions.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a dick,” you bristle, crossing your arms and glowering down at the crinkled sign-up sheet that Dabi’s pushed back toward you. 

“Damn, we’re already talking about my dick! I usually reserve that kinda thing for the third week, but I’ll let it slide. Now, be a good little girl and sign that paper for me.”

A month in this whole TA arrangement hasn’t gotten any easier. 

Half of the time Dabi doesn’t even show up, opting to text you the notes and study guides, waving you off with some vague excuse, or promise to make it up next time. The days he appears for the session, he’s always late and glumly sits beside you in the vacant study hall, tinkering with his phone and doing his best to avoid any kind of work. 

But today? Today takes the cake. 

He’s got his booted feet on the table and is taking quiet hits on his vape pen, exhaling long breaths of clear steam into the study hall. “Dabi,” you hiss across the room, aghast at his cavalier attitude. “You’re not supposed to smoke in here! Wait. Oh, my god! Is that weed?”

“Shhh, Jesus. Keep your voice down, mom,” Dabi sneers, puffing a wisp of smoke your way. “Why don’t you try focusing on your work, huh? You’ve got twelve more molecules to stabilize and your functional groups are a mess; you don’t have time to worry about me. Come on, chop, chop. I’ve got places to be.”

“Ugh. Places to be. What a load of bullshit. You know what? I wonder what might help me speed things up? Oh! I know! What if you did your job instead of getting stoned out of your mind?”

Dabi swivels around in his rolling chair, lowering his legs from the table and cocking a dark eyebrow at you. He’s foregone his tattered jacket today, and the sleeves of tattoos that lace up the chorded muscles of his arms are on full display. He’s done that on purpose, the bastard; likely noticed that you like to stare at them, your eyes engrossed by the shadings and designs. Not your fault you like some of the artwork. You’re not looking at him, not admiring any kind of twist or pull of his forearms. Not thinking about how nice they look when he wears a low cut shirt, or rolls up his sleeves. Nope, you promise yourself, careful to keep your eyes down and on your notes, it’s not that.  

You can feel his gaze; can tell he’s watching you from hooded eyelids and you do your best to resist his pull, not wanting to be drawn in by that eerie blue of his eyes. It’s not that you don’t like his eyes; no, if anything, you like them a little too much. They’re a beautiful shade of shifting cerulean and possibly the only positive thing about the man. 

“You sound upset, babe,” he taunts, taking another drag on his silver vape.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, don’t call me that. And me? Upset? You’re a real Sherlock, you know? What fucking gave that away? Oh, maybe the fact that I pay this university good money for these classes and I could actually use some support. But what do I get instead? A lazy TA who can’t be bothered to do anything more than the bare minimum. It’s a goddamn miracle I’m passing, and it’s certainly no thanks to you,” you snarl, twisting back to your work, ignoring the sound of his chair, gliding ever closer.

“Such a fucking sour puss. I bet you’d look a lot prettier if you’d wipe that scowl off your face every once in a while. Lemme see what you’ve got,” Dabi snorts, sauntering out of his chair and bending over your work. 

His tattooed arm braces itself beside your shoulder and the exposed skin brushes against you, making you unconsciously scoot awkwardly to one side.

“Don’t get so close,” you chastise, doing your best to ignore the pull of his cologne. It’s got a hint of patchouli and oranges, and it mixes so well with the cloying sweetness of his lingering vape smoke that it makes your head swim.

What’s he doing? This… well, it’s not like him. He never “checks” your answers, he usually just tells you to submit it to his email and he’ll get back to you later, which he never does. You don’t like this. Nope, not one fucking bit.

He takes his time studying your work, one long finger etching its way across your scribblings. His skin is warm; almost too warm. The heat of it against your clothed side makes you shiver and you duck your head at your unbidden reaction, balling your hands into fists and scrunching them against your tense thighs.

When he finally replies, he dips his head close to your ear, keeping his voice low and steady. “Not bad, (L/N). Nice to see you have some capacity for development after all.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you huff, whipping your head to his.

Oh, that’s right; he’s close.

The lazy smirk he gives you stretch his lips over his teeth and his eyes fall to a half mast as he leans closer, ghosting his breath over your face. “It means, you did a good job, babe. I’m impressed.”

You must be gaping at him; there’s no way that you’re not, but you can’t fucking think, not when he’s so close. If he wanted to, he could close that gap and he’d be against you. His lips look nice from here, smooth and pink, and you suddenly have a wild urge to see what he tastes like. Heart pounding, you feel yourself tilting your chin upwards, your lips parted, tongue dancing across the open plushness, dampening them, waiting, hoping that he’ll just…

“Practice your Lewis structures. Some of those compounds look fucking ridiculous,” Dabi replies, pushing himself off of the table and peering down at you, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed mirth. “But, you’re on the right track. Finish this shit up. Gotta go.”

“W-what?” you sputter, trying to quiet your pounding heart and steady yourself, upended by his short-lived…seduction? What exactly was that?

“Already told you, got some place to be. Send me the screenshots, if you wanna’, but I’m prolly’ not gonna look at them until after the weekend. Well, see ya’ around, (L/N).” And, with a last wave, he snatches up his backpack and saunters out the double doors, leaving you alone.

“So what are you thinking? Just go up to the dean’s office and ask to file a report against him?” your boyfriend questions, his voice hazy and distant through the filter of your earbuds. You’d called him a few minutes ago, once you had a good signal and filled him in on, well, most of the details. 

After Dabi left, you’d gathered up your things and paced the floors of the library, debating your next move. He’s not doing his job. That much is a fucking given. You’d even talked with a few of the other students in your class the other day and they all said the same thing: He’s lazy and he can’t be bothered to help. Apparently, you’re the only student who had one on one sessions with him, but the group meetups sound worse. They told you he usually just opened the textbook and asked them to copy down definitions, and those were the days when he showed up for the meetings.   

“Yeah, and today he really outdid himself. The jerk basically… well… he’s not doing his job,” you flounder at the omission of Dabi coming onto you. If you’re honest with yourself, he hadn’t really done much, and you’d been the one who was surging forward, suddenly tempted by his closeness, his scent, and those rippling sets of tattoos and bright blue eyes. No. Stop it. It’s the last straw, you remind yourself, shaking your head and refocusing on the familiar tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

“I’m sick of it. Midterms are coming, and I’m not about to let him hold the fate of my GPA in his stupid hands.”

“Go get em,’ love! You’re totally right, you’ve worked so hard and you shouldn’t have to put up with some middle-aged asshole’s antics. It’s been a crazy week for you, so dinner’s on me tonight. Wherever you wanna’ go, name the place and I’ll make sure we get a smile back on your face!”

That… that’s so like your boyfriend. He’s always so sweet and caring. Always looking out for you, ready to pick you back up and dust you off each time you feel you’ve fallen short. He’s perfect. He’s all you want, all you need… right?

Goddamn it, you think after you hang up your phone and hop on the elevator that will whisk you up to the dean’s offices, you’d almost kissed your TA. Here’s your boyfriend, being the most supportive and loving thing in the entire world and all you can think about is how fucking good Dabi’s cologne had smelt has he leaned over you. Some partner you are. 

The dean’s office is emptier than you expected. There’s a single secretary, who is sitting behind a low desk, twirling a dark lock of hair and skimming over the pages of a magazine. She looks up when you clear your throat and a practiced smile lifts her lips. 

“Hey there! How can I help you?”

“I uh, need to file a complaint against someone in the College of Sciences,” you explain, dropping your heavy backpack from your shoulders and scratching at the back of your head balefully. You’re likely not the first one to file a grievance against the Dabi, so why are you suddenly bothered by the idea? It’s not going to get better. Just remember all the shitty, half-baked sessions he’s made you sit through (Y/N) and get this over with. 

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that! Let me grab you the registry of TA’s and adjunct professors,” the secretary chirps, pushing her rolling chair across the wooden floors to snatch at a heavy binder on a shelf. 

“I can, um, just tell you his name. If that makes it any easier,” you quietly reply, one foot tapping agitatedly against the other. What is this uneasy feeling that keeps zinging through your mind? It’s going to be an anonymous complaint. It’s not like he’ll ever see it. He likely won’t even know it’s you. Some of the other students had discussed the idea. He could think it’s one of them, not you.  

“No, no,” the secretary replies, sliding the binder across the glass counter of the desk. “It’s no trouble at all! Just search for their name and fill out all the particulars on the university system. Doing our best to reduce waste! Gotta keep that paper trail down! We’ve got a little kiosk outside, close to the elevators. It’ll help you with all the details, just click on the form and it will file it into our online system. The dean’s office closes in fifteen minutes, so be sure to bring the binder back as soon as you’re done!” 

“Uh, ok,” you mumble, hefting the thick book into your hands. “Do you want me to take it with me, or just look it up here?”

“You can take it out there! It’s sorted by department, for ease of use, so it shouldn’t take you long to find them.” 

Great. 

You lug the binder to one of the many empty tables outside the sliding doors of the office. Slipping your backpack into a vacant chair, you flip through the lists and sections. Chemistry, chemistry… ah! Okay, you’re in the right section. Now to find Dabi, should be easy enough.

Yeah, no. There’s no one in here listed as “Dabi.” What the hell is this? Some kind of elaborate scheme? Is he just a random student who’s fronting as a TA? It would explain some of his general disinterest, but he knows more about molecular chemistry than anyone you’ve ever met, and that skill isn’t exactly a common parlor trick. 

Oh? My secret talent? Well, I can tell you about isotopic labeling and the exact timing of the reaction speeds! Wanna hear more? 

No. No one does. Plus, the professor had introduced him to the class on the first day. He knew him and Dabi’s not exactly inconspicuous. There’s gotta be something you’re missing. 

You close the heavy book and make your way back into the office, fingernails tapping out a disjointed pattern against the plastic of the binder. “Hey, um, sorry to bother,” you begin, tilting your head and biting your lip at the secretary’s beaming face.

“No bother! Did you find them? Everything work okay in the system?”

“No. I, uh, couldn’t find their name? He said his name was Dabi, never gave us a last name so, um, that’s all I have to go on,” you explain, placing the binder back on her desk and praying she’ll give you some kind of explanation.

“Ooh! Dabi! Sorry about that, he’s a special case, since he goes by his nickname. He’s under the adjunct section. I believe his last name is Todoroki,” she twists the book toward herself and flips through the pages at an alarming rate, eyes skimming over the names. 

“Here he is! Touya Todoroki! They don’t put nicknames, or preferred names, since it’s an official listing. He’s a brilliant man and one of our brightest junior professors. I know the university is hoping to snap him up this coming semester, get him on track for a tenured position. 

He’s a little unconventional, but he’s a super nice guy and… oh! Wait a minute, you wanted to file a complaint against him, right? I’m so sorry, here I am, running my mouth! You want a pen and paper? So you can jot his university number and info down? Lets me keep the book in here. Four minutes to closing after all, might as well save you the trip back.” She whips out the procured sheet of blank printer paper and a university stamped pen, holding them both toward you, a friendly smile still crinkling her eyes.

“Thanks,” you sigh, a little bewildered by her chatter. From the sound of it, Dabi’s got some university backing and is a ‘nice guy’. Coulda’ fooled you. Doesn’t matter, you think, crossing the t’s of his first and last name; he’s likely just skimming by on the promise of tenure, and the sooner the school knows about his lackadaisical attitude, the better. 

You’re typing in Todoroki, Touya when the secretary closes up the office of the dean, flicking off the lights and waving a goodbye to your tensed expression. A few minutes later, the elevator swallows her up and the only sound that fills the empty space is the clacking of the keys as you finish typing out your complaint. 

Alright. Got most of the minor points out of the way. 

Inattentive to the lessons, frequent absences, missing materials, smoking in the library; you’ll leave out the mention of weed, it’s not like you can claim innocence on that charge yourself and you’re not looking to have the guy arrested, just stripped of his TA status. You could mention the near kiss, but it feels too vague, and it’s not like he made a move on you. No, all that shifting forward rests squarely on your own shoulders. Damn it, stop thinking about that! You’ve got a boyfriend, someone who loves you, who’s going to take you to dinner! Hit complete and get the fuck outta’ here, before someone–

“Whatcha’ doing?”

His voice makes you jump half a foot into the air, your right knee contacting the protruding keyboard of the university kiosk. “Fuck,” you hiss, twisting around and hunching over at the bright spots of pain that flash across your vision as you rub your fingers over the hurt. The soft footfalls of his approach snap you out of your dazed reverie and your head snaps up, eyes widening at the sight of him.

He’s got a loose fitting white shirt on and you can see the coiling of his tattooed muscles under the thin fabric. His chin is lowered and his eyes are distant pinpricks of blue flame in the low lights. Booted feet take a few more steps toward you, but he pauses beside the table that your backpack is sitting on, hands sliding into his dark jeans, waiting for your response. You gulp back your nerves and lift your eyes to his, hoping some of your ire and defiance will shine through. “I’m putting something into the system,” you reply, your voice holding steady as you re-straighten your spine. 

“Can see that,” he counters, head tilting, dark hair falling to one side of his soft jawline. “Why are you doing it up here? This is the College of Science’s dean’s office. Most people don’t come up here to adjust their university login. So let me ask you again, whatcha’ doing, Ms. (L/N)?”

“Filing a complaint,” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists, shoulders rising and fall with your quickening breaths. That’s right, asshole, and it’s a complaint about you. How do you like that? Not much you can do about… about it now…. oh, shit. Fuck.  

You haven’t hit the enter key. 

The fucking e-document is just sitting there, unattended and completely vulnerable. He might not have seen that you haven’t sent it through and if you could just step a few feet to the right, then you can slip one finger against the keypad and hit that all important “enter.” 

You look up at him again, praying he won’t notice you scooting your shoes backwards, doing your best to keep him wholly focused on your face. “What did you expect?” you taunt, eyes narrowed, arms wrapping around your back, fingers unconsciously stretching out, feeling for the lift of the keyboard. “You’ve been shit. Midterms are in a week and half of the class says you’re not showing up for their sessions. Don’t look so shocked. This can’t possibly be your first run in with something like this? No wonder you go by that silly name, Dabi. What’s the matter? Upset that I know your actual name now?”

As you ramble on, his face has dropped all pretense of blank civility and now his entire body is hunching forward, shoulders curving, hands pulling free of his pockets and coiling outward, reaching, palms tilted upward. 

“So much fucking talk (Y/N). Looks to me like you forgot that last step. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he begins, a wicked grin twisting across his lips, not quite reaching the glare of his narrowed eyes. “Ah, babe. Why you gotta be this way? Make you a deal, huh? Walk away now and I’ll forget the whole thing. No repercussions, no questions asked. Never even saw you up here, scout’s honor.” 

The keyboard is close; you can hear the hum of the monitor, buzzing as it holds the screen with your complaint against Touya Todoroki steady, waiting for your inspection, for that final command. Dabi is close, his looming form heavy against your wide eyes, but it’s now or never. You’ve got to turn around, got to let the predatory lumber of your ill-appointed TA slip from your mind, you have to do this. It doesn’t matter what kinda promises he’ll make to you. That changes nothing, absolutely nothing. 

Now! Do it now!

You whirl around, hands shaking as they search for the right keystrokes, the right submission link. It feels like minutes have passed, not seconds. Even though you’ve pressed all the buttons and heard the computer chime, a sent message alert into the sudden, reverberating silence, you can’t take your eyes off the burning gleam of the screen. Not until that thank you pops up. 

He’s still behind you. You can hear his boots as they click across the wood. His movements have slowed, but he’s still advancing. It’s too late for you Dabi, you think, watching as the submission page fades to a pleasing orange, the school mascot waving a large “Thanks!” as it dances, close to the bottom of the page. You did it! There’s nothing he can do. Nothing that–

His powerful arm drapes across your stiffened shoulders, his wrist popped beside your face, fingers dangling lazily into the open air. “Ahhh,” he sighs, leaning over you, resting his head beside yours. You half turn your face to see him, aghast that he’s so close again, that he’s touching you, holding you in place with his weight. His muscled side presses against your back, leaning heavily into you as he gives you a rakish smirk. “Well, looks like we get to do this the hard way.”

“What the fuck? The hard way? What does–hey! HEY!” He’s stepped away from you, and that arm that was braced over your shoulders shifts to the back of your neck, ramming your face down into the keyboard, mashing out a random string of commands. Your nose stings from the impact and your eyes wince shut, protecting themselves from the threat of the black letters. 

“Warned you about sending that,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s stroking a hand down your head, tangling his long fingers in your hair, pulling at the strands until you’re groaning in pain. “Now we have to do this another way. Gotta even the score, don’t we? Need to make sure you’ve got some kinda blemish on your record, too! I know that secretary filled you in on my upcoming tenure. No way she didn’t. She’s a fucking leaky faucet and I know you had to ask her about my name to fill out that complaint. No, no. We gotta fix this, babe.”

His voice has dropped into a terrifying lower octave, his words sharp, barbed, lancing into your mind like a showering of sticks and stones. He fucking sounds like he’s seconds away from losing his goddamn mind. The hand that’s wrapped around your hair is tugging against you in earnest, jerking your neck away from the threat of the keyboard, forcing you to look up at his leering face. The pupils of his eyes are blown, the black eating away at the shine of the blue until there’s almost nothing left. His teeth are bared in a grimace and his cheeks are pinched, making the silver of his piercings stand out against his flushed skin.

You do your best to gasp out another set of questions, but he’s yanking you back, holding you against his broad chest and wrapping those ink sleeved arms around you. They coil over your stomach and across your breasts, digging into the globes and heaving them under his forearms. His lips are tracing over your arched neck, teeth nipping against your bared pulse. 

“You always smell so good, babe. What are you wearing? Hmm?”

“W-what… get off me! You sick fuck! Why are you… ow… damn,” you whimper as he sucks a bruise into your skin, gnawing and pulling until you’re writhing in his arms. You keep attempting to slip away, to shift your feet forward, but that mouth of his won’t let up. Each time you shake yourself free from those quick pants and hums he’s dashing across your neckline, he moves to another spot, or his hands cup and squeeze at your heaving chest and shivering waist, distracting you. 

“Mmm, this is unexpected. Looks like you just might enjoy what’s about to happen,” Dabi teases, licking a wet line under your jaw. “Come on, let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

You exhale a shuddering breath and remain perfectly still, hoping your feigned submission will lull him. Thankfully, it works. He chuckles and spits something out about being a ‘good girl,’ but when he moves back, his arms unlacing from you, you stumble forward, one heel raised, cracking down over his booted feet with as much force as you can muster. 

Dabi hisses out a string of low curses, his body coiling over itself protectively. You do your best to squirm out of his grasp, but one of his broad hands reaches out for you, snatching at your leg and forcing you back to him. The sudden shift jolts you off your feet and you tumble to the wood, your palms skinning against the uneven surface. 

“Stop it!” you shout, kicking your feet, trying to dislodge his iron grip. 

“Kick me again and I’ll knock you out,” Dabi threatens, lowering himself to your level and jerking you underneath him, trapping you, bracing his knees on either side of your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you screech out, bucking upwards, trying to dislodge his weight.

“That’s the idea,” he croons, long fingers curling under your clenched chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you and stop acting like you don’t want me. You were practically salivating for me this afternoon. I bet you’re already wet. Let’s find out, hmmm?”

His other hand drifts to the clasp of your jeans, flicking past the barrier of your button and dipping his hand into your pants. His touch lingers around the elastic band of your panties, yanking and teasing at the seam as he works your zipper down. Unconsciously, your traitorous hips roll under him and he gives you a sharp grin, blue eyes blazing. “There you go, babe, just relax. Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you,” he whispers, his voice catching as his touch slips downward, tapping across your curls and snagging against your slippery folds. “Maybe… ahhh… look at that,” he moans, a satisfied grin lifting those tempting lips of his. 

His middle finger brushes between your quivering flesh, gathering droplets of your arousal onto his finger pad. You choke back a staggered breath and your head flops weightlessly against the floor as you arch pitifully into his hand. One of his nails digs into your clit and faint stars pulse over your eyes. “S-stop it,” you stutter, unable to control the shiver that echoes up your spine.

“Tch,” Dabi scorns, adding the pressure of another finger. “Figures,” he continues, his mouth dropping into a pleased smile as you writhe under him. “I thought you liked being difficult. You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad, you know? So what happened to all that vigor, (Y/N)? Not gonna struggle anymore? I’m disappointed, I was hoping you’d keep it up.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, your fingers lifting from your side, grabbing the loose collar of his shirt and jerking him to your waiting lips. You can feel the lift of his grin, but he allows the caress, sharp nose digging into your upper cheek. This is wrong. So fucking wrong. But, if you have to endure it, it’s only fair you get a little bit of enjoyment out of this sick power play, so you nip at his lower lip, giving him soft presses and sharper pulls. Dabi, for all of his earlier barbs of prowess, is a bit taken aback by your sudden interest, his hands cupping at the back of your head, urging you on each time you maneuver away from his open-mouthed kisses. 

“You want to fuck me here? Right in front of the elevator?” you question breathlessly, fingers coiling into his dark hair, carding through the rough strands until he’s groaning above you. 

“Nah,” he pants, pulling away from your lips and leaning back. His fingers are still working their way against you, but it’s not enough friction and you wriggle under him, slipping him from your clit. “The fuck are you doing, babe? You gonna try and make a break for it again?” he laughs, pulling his hand from your pants and licking at the faint sweetness that you’ve left for him. 

“Why bother?” you reply, twisting your neck, your head dragging over the grains of the flooring. “You’re just going to catch me. I don’t know my way around this part of the building, so even if I got away, you’d only find me and I don’t really like being tossed around. Not good for me, you know? Why do you care? I thought you said you were gonna fuck me?”

“Oh, I am,” he assures you, one hand snagging under your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. “Just wanted to know what changed.”

“Nothing,” you barb, tugging your chin free and fixing him with a pointed stare. “This whole thing means nothing. I’ve got a boyfriend, and he’s buying me dinner tonight, so, just get through this and I’m free to go, right?”

“A boyfriend,” Dabi muses, knees tightening around your hips. “Should we call him? I’d hate to think how he’d feel about all this. Knowing that his girl is letting her TA take advantage of her this way.” 

“Hmph,” you snort, arms bracing under you, pushing yourself upward, doing your utmost to level this shitty playing field he’s laid out for you. “Like you give a shit.”

“You’re right,” he affirms, hands snatching under your arms and pulling you out from under him. “I couldn’t care less.”

His office is small. 

You keep a sharp eye on the door, watching to see if he locks it. Fingers crossed, he’ll get himself off and that’ll be the end of this. But that tone he’d shifted into, when he’d told you that you’d need to fix this, to erase the complaint, to walk it back, that made your spine tingle and skin prickle. There’s something else, something he’s not telling you, he’s a smart guy, there’s no way it’s this simple. He’s paced behind his desk, fiddling with something in one drawer, his eyes lifting to observe you each time you shift on the couch he’d gestured for you to sit on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice a dull monotone. You don’t care, you remind yourself, hands wrapping around your stomach. No matter how good he looks, or how skilled his fingers are, you don’t care (Y/N) and it’s pathetic that you have to keep reminding yourself of that.

“Just making sure everything is ready,” he answers, eyes flicking over you. “Take off your pants and shirt, but leave your bra and panties on.”

“Huh?” you question, shoulders tensing as you glare up at him. “Why?”

“Does it matter?” he responds, closing his desk drawer and stepping back to you, kicking his boots and socks off as he gets closer.

“I-I guess not, but I don’t understand why you–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all when I’m finished,” he reassures you, kneeling on the floor and propping an elbow against his tattered couch. “You can make a show of taking your clothes off, I won’t mind.” 

“You’re revolting,” you snarl, curling your fingers over the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up. 

“Mmm,” Dabi agrees, one palm rising to run over your exposed skin. “Whatever you say.” 

“Ugh,” you grunt, popping your hips up and yanking your jeans down your long legs, not wanting to give him too much of a viewing as you pull them along your calves and onto the floor.

“Cute,” he murmurs, one finger racing along the lace of your panties, curving around your hip and onto the soft skin of your ass. “Oooh, did you wear these just for me?” he asks, cupping a broad hand under your soft skin and tugging it into his palm. “Love a girl in a thong,” he murmurs, fingers pressing and lifting into the plush flesh.

“Stop it,” you groan, lifting your hips up, depriving him of his lecherous grip. “I’d never do anything for you.” 

“Always such a stuck up little thing, let’s see if I can’t change your mind,” Dabi laughs, pushing you back and splaying you against the haggard cushions. His long fingers hook under the band of your thong and steadily work it over the curve of your hips and down the line of your calves. Instinctually, you clamp your thighs together, rubbing against the ache that’s budding between your clenched legs. 

“Come on,” Dabi encourages you, slapping his hand against your round thigh, smoothing his palm over the redness that he’s left behind. “Open up babe, let me see you.” 

“Don’t, ah—” you bite out, leaning away from his ravenous gaze and bracing yourself on your elbows as Dabi leers over the sight you’ve been forced to open for him. He glances up at you for a single moment, the blue of his eyes ensnaring your attention and leaving you gaping against the cushions. Seconds later, he’s diving between your spread thighs, his curious tongue lapping over the exposed folds of your cunt.

He slows his licks as he passes by your clit, pausing against the bud before wrapping his lips around the nub, sucking a swift rhythm over you. Your feet rise from the floor to brace against his broad shoulders and you coil your hips upward, urging him on, your head falling into the swath of pillows that rest under your neck. Tense fingers wrench into the cushions and you give a soft gasp, your lips stumbling over his name.

“What was that?” Dabi asks, lifting his head from your curls, lips wet with your slick, his blue eyes watching the contours of your face.

“Fuck you. I-I know… I know you heard me… D-Dabi,” you moan, hissing when he brings a digit against the quivering ring of your entrance. 

“Dabi, huh?” he ponders, letting the edge of his fingernail tease over you. “Don’t know if I like that. I think I’d much rather hear you screaming out my name, my real name.” 

“What?” you question, popping your head up and giving him a blank stare.

“You remember,” he grins, poking out his tongue and dragging it over you, smiling as you buck under his hands. “Come on,” he taunts, sucking at your clit again. “I know you know it. Go on, say it for me.”

“Wha-what’s wrong with Dabi?” you smart, bracing your feet against the couch and forcing him to insert his wavering finger, digging it forward until it hits the second knuckle. 

“Nothing, I just wanna’ hear how the other name sounds. I want to know what it’s like when you’re choking on it, barely able to gasp it out cus’ I’m making you feel so good. Come on, (Y/N), indulge me, huh?” 

“Fine,” you huff, legs trembling as he shoves another finger into you, curling them upward, poking and prodding until you’re squirming. “Keep going. Make me cum all over your mouth, Touya.” 

“Oh, fuck,” Dabi hisses, his teeth catching over your clit. “That sounds real nice, baby.”

His lips seal over you again and he drags another finger into you, stretching you until you feel you’re close to bursting. It’s a low ache he’s working up, but you love the burn. It’s not like your boyfriend can’t do this, but you’ve never worked up the courage to ask. How do you even go about that? Hey, I want you to pin me down and… no. That doesn’t matter, you remind yourself; fingers sinking into Dabi’s black hair, pulling him closer. You just need to get him off and get the hell outta’ here. Don’t think about it. Just relax and get this over with. 

“You need more, don’t you?” Dabi questions, tilting his head and cracking one cerulean eye open, watching as you writhe and cant under his skillful hands. 

“I-I just need…” your voice fails you as he resumes that suction, tugging your engorged clit between his sharp teeth and giving you a few rapid fire nips. “Al-almost, just… keep… oh fuck…” you sigh, thighs tensing around his dark head. His fingers speed up that sinful drag and he wriggles them forward with each push, tapping and stroking over the spongy patch of nerves within your cunt. 

Then, right when you’re breaths away from a mind blowing release, he yanks his fingers from your sopping pussy, laughing as you pant and whine for him. “Ahhh, come on babe,” he sneers. “Why would I reward you when you’ve been such a fucking pain?” 

You openly gape at him, your eyes blinking back dots of frustration and distant flashes of lingering starlight arousal. “What the fuck,” you pant, shifting away from his slicked lips and crossing your legs. “Wh-what what was that for?”

Dabi pushes himself onto his haunches, licking the last traces of you off of his fingers before digging his hand into his jean pocket. He returns with a small remote and waggles it in front of your aghast expression. “Got all I needed,” he informs you, flicking it toward a bookcase. You swiftly whip your head to the shelves and spy the tiny camcorder resting above the topmost set of books. 

“You fucking ASS,” you screech, hands reaching for the dangling remote, not caring that your sopping pussy and half naked breasts are on full display. Dabi hovers the remote above the two of you, cracking that all too familiar grin over his thin lips.

“So, about that complaint,” he taunts, scoffing at your desperation, leaning on his heels to watch you scramble up from the frayed pillows of his couch. 

“Y-you, why… I… give me that! You can’t record me without my permission!”

“Awe, babe,” Dabi barks, his laugh echoing around the small space. “Too bad for you, huh? I don’t need two party consent.”

“That’s for phone calls,” you bite out, finally snagging his wrist, yanking him toward you. 

“Who said the video was on?” 

“You fucking jackass! That’s why you wanted me to say your name!”

“Calm down, I won’t release it if you walk back the complaint,” Dabi counters, letting you pull him closer, his lips teasingly reaching for yours. You dodge his touch and fix him with a pointed glower, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing. 

“This sounds like a well oiled routine,” you accuse, dropping your hold on him and crossing your arms over your exposed stomach. 

“Tch, you jealous?” Dabi sneers, cupping both of his hands under your bent elbows, forcing you to lean into his hold. You shake your head at his accusation and grit your teeth, tilting your face away from his seeking touch. 

“What are you going to do about this part? Where I’m yelling about what a son of a bitch you are?”

“Edit it out,” Dabi informs you, lips latching onto the hollow of your throat, teeth worrying your tender skin between their grasp. “Again, if you walk back the accusation, all of this goes away.”

“What if…” you pause, biting your lower lip and shrugging Dabi off of you. He leans away, bright eyes studying your face, pausing at the dip of your lips, following the pink indentations that your teeth leave behind. “What if I wanna’ fuck you?”

“Oh?” Dabi hums, nose flaring, making those three tiny piercings gleam under the low light of the moon that’s streaming through his window. “Now you wanna’ fuck me? You sure about that? Not that I blame you, I’m pretty good, pretty big, too.”

“Ugh, don’t say shit like that,” you reply, lifting a shaking hand to his neck, tracing your fingertips over the indentations of his tattoos.

“Hmm,” he groans, already leaning into your touch, his skin prickling under the gentle strokes of your fingers. “One condition. I get to record it. This time with the video on.”

“Fine,” you confirm, coiling your hands into his inky hair. “Never know, you might want it for later.”

“For what?” Dabi asks, yanking himself away from your intoxicating strokes to jerk his white shirt over his head. You shake your head at his question, not wanting to think about the ramifications of this situation, distracting yourself with the new patterns and whorls of dark ink that are bared to you. He twists back to the camcorder, hitting a few buttons before tossing his remote across the room, the plastic clattering over the wood.

You can just make out the outline of wisps of blue flames beside his ribs when he kicks his pants and boxers down, finally lowering the curtain on the dip of his hipbones, displaying his straining length to your ravenous gaze. He’s covered in piercings. A silver Prince Albert is gleaming at his tip, catching the drips and bubbles of pre-cum that are hovering against his slit. His cock curls proudly toward his stomach when he releases it from the thin protection of his boxers and you catch sight of the Jacob’s ladder that climbs up his impressive girth. Unconsciously, you gulp in a swift breath and shake your head, not wanting to show him your wavering uncertainty. 

He’ll undoubtedly be the biggest cock you’ve ever taken, and you’re not sure that he’s stretched you out properly. He’d paused too soon and you can still feel the shuddering echoes of your faint brush with release travel up your spine as you gape at him. It’s not enough… it’s not…

“What?” Dabi questions, one black brow arched. “Worried I’m too big for you?”

You’re about to respond when he shoves you down and maneuvers you sideways, stretching you along the cushions, his hand a steady pressure against your windpipe, choking out any reservations that threaten to escape your lips. He’s on top of you seconds later, the sheer weight of him pinning you under him, and you let out a whine when he spreads your legs, popping the brittle muscles of your hips in his rush. 

“I’ll make you like it,” he promises, looming over you, his lips tracing up your neck as his hands dig under your back, unfastening your bra and stripping you of your final defense. “You’ve got a nice rack, babe,” Dabi praises, lowering himself, ghosting over your peaked nipples, tongue lapping out to dip over the puffy areola. 

“Stop saying shit like that, I might think you mean it,” you snarl, throat catching on your gasps of strained pleasure. He sucks one stiffened peak between his lips and suckles, hard. The pressure makes your back bow off the cushions, fingers reaching for him, clawing and scratching your way down the muscled plains of his back. 

“Mmm,” Dabi groans, popping his lips free from the distraction of your nipples. “Do that again, but put some effort behind it.” 

Well, why let him down now? You dig your nails into him, yanking until you feel his skin part under you, splitting from the drag of your touch. “Fuck, yes,” he grunts, his hips jerking into you, blindly seeking your entrance. “I’m gonna fuck you,” Dabi warns, teeth biting the hollow of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you until all you can say is my name.” 

He blindly reaches for your hips, two fingers searching for your cunt. Once he finds it, he grasps the swollen length of his cock, jerking himself a few times, splashing his hot pre-cum against your inner thighs. There’s no warning, no call for preparation, or a quick kiss, instead there’s just the heady press of his hips and the weight of his length as it splits you in two. Your neck arches off of the cushions and your hips fall away, shying from the keening sting that he’s thrusting into you. A low hiss slips from your lips and your toes curl, legs unconsciously wrapping around his thin waist, heels digging into the soft dip of his back. 

“F-fuck,” Dabi chokes out, hands bracing themselves over the swell of your hips. “You’re fucking tight, babe. Goddamn it.”

“Dabi,” you moan, curling upwards, praying he’ll give you a few more seconds, positive you’ll shake yourself to bits if he tries to move now. Your hand finally lifts from his back and makes its way toward the crest of your thighs, desperate to tweak and roll your pulsing clit. Once you’re inches away, one of Dabi’s hands unlatches from your waist and snatches your seeking fingers away. “Don’t you dare,” he warns, lips rising to suck against the lines of your neck. “Only if I tell you,” he continues, warm tongue dipping and licking over your ear. “Understand?”

You nod, still reeling from the steady stretch of his cock as he tugs it out of your sopping cunt. It pricks and bites and your heels do their best to restrict his movements, pinning themselves to his lower back and grinding down. He ignores your hints and starts a steady push and pull within you, the rungs of his piercings catching on the edge of your leaking pussy. Each thrust snags against a piece of you that sends a scattering of sparks and stars over your vision and you coil yourself forward every time he yanks back, anticipating that ignition, that ache, as he braces himself to slip into you again. 

“How the fuck are you still so tight?” he complains, hands jerking your chin upward, demanding that you kiss him. The bittersweet sting of pain is still too close for you to get into his caress, so he soon gives up, finally settling the pad of his calloused thumb over your clit. “Is this what you need?” he asks, hips lancing into yours, picking up the pace of his ruts. You nod as your teeth chatter, a thin slip of drool escaping your parted lips. Dabi grins at your overwrought expression and his tongue laps at the traces of saliva, nose pressing into your skin, his hisses of exhaled air hot against your cheek. 

“You’re getting real tight (Y/N). Wanna cum? You wanna’ cum on my dick?” he asks, his voice shaking with effort, trying to ignore the insistent envelopment of your slick cunt. “Hey, come on, answer me!”

His deep pitch of exasperation snaps you out of your stupor and you fix your hazy attention on him, closing your swollen lips and giving him a cruel smile. “I don’t think you’ve done enough,” you taunt, a laugh bubbling from your throat. “Looks like you’re gonna cum first. Turns out you’re not as impressive as you think, huh, Touya?”

He’d usually ignore you, keep pressing and teasing until you’re putty in his hands, but it feels too good. It’s too much. Your fucking cunt feels like heaven and he can’t help himself, thrusting and pounding into you like he’s fucking fifteen again, all hormones and no finesse. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself, it’s too good, it’s just too fucking good.

With a half-formed groan he spills into you, his cock pulsing and swelling, hands bracing themselves against the swell of your hips, lifting you to him until those dots leave his vision. “Fuck. Fuck, that was… you were… God. That felt so fucking good.” 

You sprawl under him, your eyes languidly meeting his as you crack a sly grin. “Ahhh, Touya, like I said, you were so close. Too bad. Thought you’d last a little longer. Haha! Maybe next time, hmmm?”

Tags: @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @evesmores​

notes: editing always takes me so long :((((

[h3rmitsunited]

I’m making my contribution to the STBFU (Sam the Baker Fandom Universe).

Also, I’m making a decision for myself that the ship name is Saskier. I can’t do Jam. Generic word ship names are horrible in the tags, and while I love that it’s food themed, I just can’t do it. Plus Saskier is fun to say. The rest of you don’t have to use Saskier, but that’s what I’m gonna use. If I ever do anything for this hilarious and adorable ship again lol

Here’s the Ao3 collection for the other Sam the Baker fics. 😍

Aaaaannnyyyways… here’s just a short little whatever. 🥰

The Sweetest Thing

Read on Ao3. Words: 2078

Jaskier stared at the bun sitting on the counter. It was wrapped delicately with a thin white cloth, the top of it glistening with a sweet smelling glaze, and a wisp of steam was snaking off its surface into the air. There was a folded sheet of paper resting underneath it. Jaskier looked around the empty tavern. He had gone into the back room for maybe five minutes, hearing nothing, and came back out to find this mysterious bun just sitting there, waiting for him. With his line of work, he should probably be more suspicious, it could be poisoned or cursed or... just really gross, or something, but the smell of it cut through his still slightly alcohol soaked brain, and went straight into his heart, his soul. Whoever had made this, had put time and effort and care into it.

He walked hesitantly forward, brushing his fingers over the folder paper. There wasn't any sort of immediate reaction, no burst of magic or flame or weirdness at all. Just dry, normal paper. He slipped his fingers underneath the bun and pulled the paper out, unfolding it carefully, and cocked his head to the side as he read the scrawling print that looped across the page.

To the talented bard, Jaskier,

I hope that this simple offering does not come across as too forward or invasive. I have attended your performances for the past two weeks, and have found myself entranced by the skill that you present so freely to us, your audience. It has left me feeling indebted, for you to gift such artistry to us with only pedestrian coin to be given in return. Not that coin is unwanted, I surely have not been keeping my pockets filled after seeing your performances. I have a small bakery nearby, and while the fruits of my labor may not sound as sweet as the strum of your lute or the sound of your voice, I hope that the sweetness of the flavor will bring you some joy and comfort as you have done for me and so many others.

Humbly,

Sam

Jaskier hummed, running his finger across the white cloth around the bun. It did smell absolutely incredible, and this Sam didn't seem to have any sort of nefarious intentions, in fact the words he had written sent a wave of warmth through his chest, and he couldn't help the small curl of a smile on the edges of his lips. He slowly unwrapped the bun, the cloth sticking slightly to the surface of the glaze. It smelled of honey and fresh bread and Jaskier found his mouth watering as he lifted it to his lips and took a bite.

It was amazing.

The bread melted against his tongue, filling his mouth and nose with warmth and flavor that he expected would remind him of home if he even knew what that meant anymore. It sent an ache through his chest, and he took a long breath after swallowing the first bite.

Why was this affecting him so? Perhaps this bread was cursed or enchanted somehow? He took another look at the bun, peering closely at the soft and dense formation inside the glistening crust. There didn't seem to be anything odd about it, but it made him feel so... alone. Like the burst of warmth and sweetness just reminded him how much had been missing these past months. It taunted him, pointing out the stark chill surrounding him, the bitter musty taste constantly on his tongue from the flagons of cheap ale he consumed, the scent of ash and dirt and sweat always in his nose. He was calloused, rough and bitter after being left behind. Once he would have felt like he deserved such a soft and sweet treat, but now it felt like the food of a child, naïve and unknowing of what was truly out there.

He sat the bun back down on the cloth, and dropped his head into his hands, breathing in and out slowly. The words the baker, Sam, had written to him echoed in his head, mixing with the memories of his audiences, the cheers and claps, the bright smiles, the praise. It felt so hollow, empty. He sang of epic fights, of history, of love, of anger, but he lied, embellished, put on a show for these people to have a good time, and it ate into him like it never had before. He loved performing. He had adored being able to become something else while on stage, but before... he could still come off the stage. He and Geralt, they hadn't always seen eye to eye, but Geralt saw him. He saw him after the stage, in his uglier moments, when he wasn't performing, when he was quiet or petty or bitter, and when he was excited and happy about something that only he had cared about.

He couldn't be Jaskier here, not himself, not truly. He was Jaskier the Bard, he was the Sandpiper, and he was nothing more than that. Constantly on stage, constantly keeping up this performance, and he was exhausted and drained and empty, but the pitcher kept pouring, and now he had this letter and this half eaten bun and a hole inside his chest that ached and ached, and he didn't know what to do.

He found himself walking. Not completely sure why, but he wasn't in the mood for self-analysis. He was single-mindedly looking at each shop as he passed, periodically wandering inside if the smell was sweet enough, or if the sign said something about it being a bakery... and then coming back out, slightly disappointed when the shopkeeper gave him an odd look when he asked about someone named Sam.

He'd gone into at least seven bakeries, who knew there were that many so close to the tavern in the first place, before his resolve started to shift, and he was losing hope and the ability to ignore the side of him questioning what he was even trying to do in the first place. He turned one more corner when the smell hit his nose. That distinctly familiar sweet honey scent with some note of just a little something else. This had to be it.

Jaskier marched up to the shop. It was simple, wood with one window beside the front door, and a small sign, Sam's Sweets and Breads.

Jaskier sighed, his heart pounding as he reached for the door, and then stopped himself. What was he doing? He couldn't even finish eating the bun, hadn't even been able to process the flurry of emotions that came up when he'd eaten the bite of it and for some reason, he decided the best idea was to come and... what dump all his problems on this... fan? He didn't know this man, and Sam, with his sweet words and sweet bread, didn't need to have the 'talented bard, Jaskier' show up on his doorstep, to do whatever he hadn't gotten far enough in his plan to figure out yet.

Jaskier shook his head and pulled his hand back from the door, turning around to walk back to the tavern, and walked into someone who was standing behind him, who stumbled and dropped some of what he was carrying onto the ground. Jaskier didn't have time to process what had happened before the man dropped to his knees.

"Oh! I am so sorry! I'm in such a rush this morning! Did not see you there!" The man struggled holding a sack of flour in one arm, and tried gathering up fruits and berries that had fallen out of his bundle, off the ground. Jaskier knelt down in front of him, helping to carefully pick them up for him.

"No, no, the blame is entirely my own, good sir. I'm afraid I'm not myself today. Mind's all over the place," Jaskier sighed, finishing to place the last of the fruits and berries into the cloth on the ground and tying them up into a bundle before looking up at the man still kneeling in front of him. He was staring at him, his brown eyes wide in surprise.

"You're... here!" The man, who Jaskier now presumed to be the Sam from his letter, given his shocked reaction, and the blush forming on his cheeks, stood up quickly, nearly knocking his head into Jaskier's. "I hadn't... you got the... bun then? I'm sorry, was that... I didn't mean to be... you weren't there when I came, and I have to work so early, so-"

Jaskier stood and held out the bundle to Sam, smiling and shaking his head. He rested his free hand on Sam's forearm.

"It was lovely, Sam. I suppose I just came to... thank you?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, taking the bundle from Jaskier's hand. He smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, well, you didn't have to do that... come all this way... You like it then?" He looked at Jaskier expectantly, and Jaskier was reminded of the times he had asked Geralt how he felt of his singing, the hopeful rise and the bitter fall when Geralt would give him a flippant response. Jaskier smiled and nodded.

"It was, and I say this without exaggeration, the most delicious sweet bun I have had, probably in my life." Sam's eyes lit up brightly and Jaskier felt that burst of warmth in his chest again, aching and overwhelming. "You didn't use some sort of magic spell on it, did you?" Jaskier asked, mostly joking. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

"No, no. Just years of practice... that and a lot of trial and error. It took some time to get those buns as sweet as they are, but people seem to like them now." Sam cocked his head, shrugging. Jaskier noticed that despite the large sack of flour in his one arm, he didn't seem to be struggling with the weight of it at all. He tried to ignore the pounding in his chest at that observation, chiding himself internally.

"Well, uh, I can see why. Sorry, I'm in your way, here. I should... you probably are busy... working. I shouldn't have... I'll just... thank you again, Sam-"

"You're welcome to come inside, Jaskier. I don't mind having some company... unless you have somewhere to be."

"No. I... I shouldn't, actually." Jaskier had wanted to say yes, the thought of sitting in the cozy looking shop, laughing and chatting and being a normal person for once so agonizingly appetizing, but Sam seemed like a good and kind man, and he looked at Jaskier like the sun shined out of his ass, and he didn't think that he deserved to have that illusion shattered. Better to see him as the Bard and not the Broken. Sam's face fell slightly, but he nodded.

"Alright, well... I suppose I'll see you tonight then?" Jaskier frowned furrowing his brows. Was Sam... coming onto him?

"Tonight?"

"You're still performing?" Sam asked, walking toward the bakery door. Jaskier let out a breath and nodded.

"Oh, yes, that. Yes. I will be giving my regular performance, as usual." He wasn't sure if it was disappointment or relief he was feeling knowing that was what Sam was asking about, but there was something there. Sam finished unlocking the door, and turned back to Jaskier with a soft smile.

"Maybe I can buy you a drink after?" He looked at Jaskier, hopeful and vulnerable, and Jaskier knew what that look meant. The ache in his chest surged again, and Jaskier shoved it down, irritated. He'd been stuck in this cold, bitter state too long, perhaps it was time to let a little warmth back in. Jaskier pushed through the discomfort and fear and smiled back brightly at Sam.

"That sounds nice, Sam. I'll be waiting." Jaskier watched as Sam grinned back, his cheeks flushing red again, before he turned around to wander back to the tavern.

Sam watched as Jaskier walked away. He was glad his gift had been received well, and glad even more that the bard, that Jaskier, had accepted his offer for a drink tonight. He hoped that his company could help with the sad look in his eyes, the weariness that he'd seen weighing down the bard each night, more and more. He let out a sigh when Jaskier turned the corner out of sight and then opened the bakery door to get to work.

[insaneoddball]

Since I accidentally deleted an ask while editing this post like a dumbass, this one is for the anon who asked me about my thoughts on a RWBY AU where Raven took Yang with her to live with the bandits. Here’s hoping you see it! 🤞

Btw don’t expect any in depth paragraphs or analysis. I started trying that and it just sounded stilted. I ain’t a good writer. sadge

Raven ditches Taiyang the moment she learns she’s pregnant, possibly due to a mixture of not wanting to be tied down and being loyal to her clan first and foremost.

She fully planned to dump the kid at the orphanage, but the moment she held the crying baby in her arm, she just lets out a quite, “…Fuck, I’m emotionally attached now.” Maternal instincts have magically developed in this universe!

Raven could continue the Branwen tradition of bird names, specifically yellow one for Yang ie Oriole, Vireo, or Tana(ger). She could also opt to retain the original name out of some sentimentality towards Taiyang but she will never admit it. For convenience’s sake I’ll stick with calling Yang as, well, Yang. Plus I can’t be bothered to think of an alternative acronym for RWBY lol.

Just because Raven developed some level of care towards her child DOES NOT mean she’s mother of the year. She’s spent most of her life fighting Grimm and humans she doesn’t know a thing about child rearing beyond giving them nourishment. And does she seem like the type to baby talk? She’s dumping Yang onto her goons. Insert the three stooges taking care of a baby here.

Raven would slowly get more involved with Yang after she learns to properly talk and becomes fully invested once she’s old enough to be trained. She’s also instills her own philosophy onto her daughter. Hypocritically, she still expects Yang to follow her orders without question.

Yang sees this as totally normal since it’s not like she knows any other kids she could compare her home life with. A family can be one single female chieftain and her band of nefarious criminals. Yang would respect Raven but feel more attached to her caregivers/tribe. This changes once she enter her rebellious teenage phase. Hormones be wild, yo.

While Raven tries to groom Yang into a potential leader, the latter wants nothing to do with it. She figures that she wouldn’t be a leader so much as a mouthpiece for Raven. It’s not like Raven would go to a retirement home after she steps down. She’d stay with the Branwen tribe until the day she dies. Even if she gave Yang full reins on the decision making, she’d almost certainly make snide remarks about Yang being inefficient.

One night Raven comes back from patrol to see a bunch of her men panicking. Yang has gone missing! Or left rather. Raven tries not to show her worry. Yang won’t get far before she comes back with her tail between her legs.

Yang DOES in fact go far. Far enough to reach Beacon Academy. Now she can finally make her own decisions like a big girl!

So yeah, she still joins RWBY but with some small changes in her relationship in regards to her teammates. They all eventually learn to trust and be more open with each other, but Yang’s relationship with them is…rocky.

Without an older sister to watch and encourage her, Ruby has become much more shy and uncertain while dealing in social situations but is also much less reckless in fighting. Yang can’t help but admire how such a young kid has the balls to start such a dangerous career. She can’t help but see herself in her leader. I would describe Yang as acting as a loving bully towards Ruby hoping that one day Ruby will take the hint and stand up for herself. But if anyone else picks on her? You’re eating Yang’s boots.

Yang take Weiss at face value. A spoiled, pampered kid who thinks they’re hot shit and who has never struggled to get anything she wants. But since she comes from a rich and influential family…Yang can try to act nice and get on her good graces.

Yang and Blake are just that one picture of two Spidermen pointing at each other. Two young girls with mysterious pasts directly tied to a criminal organization? What are the odds? Blake does come out regarding her past after being outed as a Faunus but Yang would still hesitate on revealing her previous lifestyle. Surely there must be some ulterior motive to explain why Ruby and Weiss allow an ex terrorist to stay in the group. Only an idiot would do such a thing…right? Yang is torn between seeing Blake a a kindred spirit or a potential spy.

The same story beats happen as in canon. Yang eventually open up to her teammates and briefly thinks that maybe Raven was talking out of her ass in regards to trusting people…making her take Blake’s abandonment even worse.

After the fall of Beacon Yang either becomes the unquestioning if embittered second in command of the Branwen tribe…or sticks to the original script and reunites with RWBY.

[samwisethewitch]

Conjuring Dark Spirits

When I made my post about the types of spirits witches are likely to encounter, I got some comments saying that it was wrong of me to discourage baby witches from reaching out to demons. On the other hand, I’ve recently been getting a lot of hate comments on my YouTube channel accusing me of “leading vulnerable young people to the Devil.” Clearly, the subject of demons and their role in witchcraft needs some clarification.

As I’ve said before, witchcraft in and of itself has nothing to do with demons, and most witches don’t work with demons at all. If you don’t believe in demons, or if you do believe in them and don’t care to bring them into your practice, feel free to skip this post.

But, to be fair, some witches do include demonic forces in their practice, and find it to be deeply beneficial. If that sounds intriguing to you, read on.

First, let’s get some definitions out of the way. When I say “demon,” I am referring to dark spirits that are malevolent towards mankind and/or directly oppose the will of the gods. This concept is older than the Abrahamic religions, dating back to some of the oldest known religions. Working with demons does not mean working within an Abrahamic system.

With that said, it follows that not all demonic witchcraft is Satanic in nature. But in reality, contrary to popular belief, Satanists don’t work with demons at all.

The term “Satanism” was popularized by Anton Levay, the author of The Satanic Bible, who was an atheist. To this day, the Church of Satan is an atheist organization that denies the existence of both the Christian God and the Devil. For Levay and the Satanists who followed in his footsteps, Satan is an archetype or symbol that represents the parts of human nature demonized by Christianity, such as pride, individualism, and ambition. Satanists use this symbol in ritual, but do not actually believe in or worship Satan or any other higher power.

Anyone who calls on demons or devils in ritual, rather than simply using them as symbols, is not practicing Satanic magic. Devil worship is a Christian heresy, and has nothing to do with Satanism, paganism, or any other religion.

There have been historical cases of devil worship — allegedly. Most accusations of witchcraft during the European and American witch hunts included accusations of consorting with Satan, performing black masses, and other nefarious deeds. Most, if not all, of these accusations were fabricated, and the people accused were never involved in such practices.

Ironically, it’s not in witchcraft and folk magic (the magic of poor people), but in ceremonial magic (the magic of the wealthy elite) that demons have historically been called upon.

Ceremonial magic, which gets its name from its elaborate rituals, is the magic practiced by Aleister Crowley, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, and other prominent figures in Western occultism. Ceremonial magic is very heavily based on (appropriated) Jewish theology and practice, and most of the people who popularized it were culturally Christian. A major feature of ceremonial magic is the invocation and evocation of spiritual entities, including both angels and demons from Jewish and Christian lore.

For example, Goetic magic is a form of ceremonial magic that revolves around the conjuration of demons. Modern Goetic magic is mostly based on The Lesser Key of Solomon, a 17th-century grimoire that contains information on demonology. Like all forms of ceremonial magic, Goetic magic uses highly structured rituals with multiple sources of protection for the magician, including sacred geometry and the use of sigils. The idea here is that the magician is calling forth these demons into a controlled environment, where they have the upper hand. This allows them to deal with demons without putting themselves at risk. Even so, Goetic magicians would do well to remember the first rule of conjuration: never summon what you cannot banish!

Goetic magic is complex, dense, and not at all beginner-friendly. If you have an interest in this type of magic, I encourage you to begin by researching ceremonial magic in general. (Keep in mind that, if you are not Jewish, you will need to take care to avoid using appropriated Jewish theology in your practice.) Familiarize yourself with these concepts and perform a few evocations for more benevolent figures before you delve into the world of Goetia.

But surely deals with demons don’t only happen in ceremonial magic, right? After all, what about all those legends about people meeting the Devil at the crossroads and making a deal?

The story of the crossroad spirit who makes deals with humans is much older than Christianity, and this spirit is not always identified at the Devil, or even a demon. Several Greek deities hold this role in various myths, including Hecate, Hermes, and Pan. In several African Diaspora Religions, the Orisha Elegua is associated with crossroads. In Haitian Vodou, this role goes to the lwa Papa Legba. None of these spirits are evil, and in fact some of them are seen as protective figures.

American folk tales about meeting the Devil at the crossroads reflect a much older myth that has been adapted to fit a Christian worldview. The “Devil” in these myths behaves very differently from the Christian Satan, and witches who wish to work with this figure may find it useful to think of him as a separate entity. Author Aaron Oberon simply calls this entity “The Witch Father,” which seems like an appropriate title for someone who haunts crossroads and other liminal spaces and gives witches the gift of magic.

And that’s the thing. When it comes to working with demons and other “dark” entities, it all comes down to your intention. If you are setting out to summon the embodiment of evil, you’re setting yourself up for some serious spiritual mischief at best, and genuine harm at worst. But if you seek hidden knowledge, defiance of social order, and the healing power of darkness, you may well have a very positive experience — even if you call that entity by a name like “Satan.”

Resources:

The Satanic Bible by Anton Szandor Lavey

Southern Cunning by Aaron Oberon

New World Witchery Podcast, “Episode 102 — Evil” and “Episode 118 — The Satanic Panic”

Caitlin Doughty, “DEMONIC BABIES: A Guide for New Parents”

[mythicamagic]

wow! that's an amazing list. “i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

A continuation of other tumblr prompts I’ve made into a fic - here

Hopefully chapter four will be the end lolol this fic has been far longer than I intended it to be.

---

Kagome stared out at passing scenery beyond her window with a glazed look dulling her eyes. Heavy thoughts carried her attention far away from the mundane train ride. She hadn't visited Kyoto in years, and especially not for such a special reason before.

Shippo's voice had sounded so strange on the phone. Mature, but not overly deep, maintaining its playfulness. He'd invited her over for a visit right away.

A 'bing!' noise roused her enough to check her phone- which showed a picture of Natsuki posing with a spear and fresh kill.

Kagome snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles. There were a few things about Natsuki that she was surprised Sesshoumaru hadn't commented on.

Number one; her boyfriend was a demon.

And number two; he was, specifically, an inuyoukai. A mongrel. She imagined Sesshoumaru felt mighty smug to know she'd found a demon of the same species as him to date. Natsuki being of mixed breeding surely made the Daiyouki feel all the more superior.

But Kagome had never cared about such things. She'd loved Inuyasha once, too.

The short version of their 'getting together' just two months prior was that she'd located a demon bar a few years ago and had been dating youkai ever since, using the place as a means to meet them. The relief of finding the secret den of long-forgotten youkai had been unparalleled. Kagome now knew exactly how to locate and see through glamorous thanks to years of experience.

She'd found out through the process of elimination that humans just kind of...weren't enough for her. Kagome needed the youki, the rush- the bite of claws, talons or fangs.

Natsuki was one of many in a long line of potential 'forever' partners, but Kagome had long since stopped expecting marriage down the line. If they lasted, that was fine. If not, that was fine too.

She had resolved never to fall hard for someone again.

Natsuki left Tokyo a few days prior to go on a hunting trip with his pack in a remote location up in the mountains, a monthly tradition.

'Can you skip it this time?' Kagome had asked. 'I'd just...really like it if you could come to Kyoto with me?'

'But I don't know your fox friend.'

'Doesn't matter- he hasn't seen me in 500 years. I would feel so much better if you were there.'

Natsuki looked as though she'd spat in his breakfast. 'Ah, uh-' he ran an awkward hand through his light-brown hair. 'I guess?'

The hesitancy and look in his eyes- begging to be let off the hook- made Kagome force a smile and drop the subject.

She sighed, figuring they'd probably break up soon. There wasn't really anything wrong with their relationship, just a difference in values and priorities.

It seemed to be the norm. No huge fight. No big dramatic breakup. Usually she even stayed friends with her exes.

Sesshoumaru was the outlier in all things.

She made certain not to tell the Daiyoukai of her impending singleness. If he was irritatingly optimistic now- Kagome imagined he'd be a nightmare to shake off if she were available.

But he'd stop if I outright told him to never speak to me again.

Her lips thinned, stomach turning at the mere thought.

For the rest of the journey, she resolved not to think about him. And failed miserably.

----

Shippo had greeted her at the door with an enormous hug the second she'd arrived at his hilltop home. Brilliant red hair had grown longer, swept back into a ponytail. Since his house perched a little further out from most of the houses, he wore no glamour. The pointed ears and foxtails- five of them- Kagome counted, were on full display.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged him back fiercely.

His wife was pleasant, though a little eccentric for a racoon youkai. She'd made a 'welcome' banner and everything for Kagome's arrival.

Three young kits with dark circle markings around their eyes raced around the house- which had crayon drawings sprawled all over the walls at waist-height. Shippo and his wife seemed to have given up on house maintenance, but they were a happy family.

Blue eyes softened as Kagome sat with him in the relative privacy of his art studio. She was so pleased he'd found happiness. As they talked, she bent down- reaching into her bag for her phone to show him some pictures of her workplace- only for it to tip over.

A small bottle of pills rolled out, stopping by his foot.

Kagome paled. She glanced away from his questioning look as he handed them back to her. "Reiki suppression pills?" he asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I've got friends in Tokyo. You're not the only priestess who secretly dates demons," he shrugged, pinning her with a calculating look. "But, it's kind of a shame you feel the need to take them."

Kagome forced a smile, tucking them away, "yeah well- it's because I'm so big and strong," she joked. "I haven't met a demon in Tokyo who could withstand my aura if I really let it out. Taking these is easier. Gives demons the 'flavour' of dating a miko without actually getting burned. It just thins my powers a little."

Shippo nodded in acceptance and swiftly changed topics since it made her uncomfortable. He chattered on about his life, detailing the 500 year gap between when they'd seen each other last. Apparently, after Miroku and Sango had passed, he'd taken to spending more time with Sesshoumaru. When Inuyasha had died, he'd started living with the Daiyoukai permanently.

"You...did?"

He nodded, hands wrapped around his steaming mug of tea. A handmade bracelet clasped around his wrist, and the mug was half-melted, made from clay. Clearly they'd both been crafted by three well-meaning kids. "I guess we were gonna talk about him eventually," he smirked. "I promise not to be biased, okay? Sure, he saved my ass, but you're still my favourite."

Warmth flooded her heart, and Kagome giggled a little despite herself. "You're talking like we're your divorced parents or something," she mused, sobering. Taking a long breath, she stared at her own misshapen mug. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "Why didn't he create a pure-blooded heir?"

Shippo sighed, sweeping a hand through voluminous red hair. "He chased after you pretty much a second after you left through the well. Only he couldn't get through."

Her chest tightened, body stiffening.

"He's told me before though...that regretting what happened wouldn't have been enough, and maybe it was better he didn't stop you. He still felt the same at the time, deep down; that only a pure-blooded heir should take over the Western Lands to ensure he was survived by a long-living heir. He was gonna do it," Shippo muttered. "He was prepared to lay with an inuyoukai to produce an heir, but when the time came he just...couldn't. It frustrated him for a long time."

Kagome took a sip of her lukewarm tea, lips thinning. "He could've taken a mate. It didn't have to be some random woman."

"Heh, yeah but his inuyoukai instincts had already chosen a mate," Shippo winked at her. "And no matter how much he tried to force logic onto himself, his instincts refused to budge. You weren't dead, so in his mind, he couldn't move on. He's remained your captive all this time."

Her eyes widened, swallowing. "That sounds terrible!" she burst, frowning. "What the hell...I'd resent that. Why doesn't he hate me?"

"Hard to explain but...he could have moved on, Kagome," the kit sighed. "If he really wanted to. He's the one who lacked the desire to change how he felt about you. So, despite some relationships, Sesshoumaru has pretty much maintained his bachelor lifestyle."

Kagome stood from her seat, setting down her tea and distractedly looking at Shippo's art pieces, picking up a sketchbook and flipping through it.

Sharp green eyes searched her guarded features. "You're still in love with him, right?"

"Some habits are hard to kick," she said softly, pausing on one sketch. Her vision grew blurry.

Shippo rose and swept the shuddering miko into a hug before she could drop the sketch of Sango and Miroku. He held her for a long time, and they moved on to talking about their friends. About all the things they'd done and the happiness they'd shared.

"M-maybe I...left too quickly," Kagome mumbled, wiping at her wet cheeks.

"Nah, don't get that thought stuck in your head," Shippo rested a hand on her head, gently ruffling the dark strands. "You wanted distance between you and Sesshoumaru. It's not your fault the well shut."

"Why did..." swallowing thickly, she looked up at him, oddly feeling like a child in comparison to his steady, easy-going presence. Like nothing in the world could shock or frighten the little kit anymore. "It took him 6 years to come talk to me, why is that?"

Shippo's smile turned slightly sad. "He wouldn't want me to tell you. In fact, he'd kill me for giving you this-" Shippo reached into his pocket and took out a vial.

Kagome understood what it was almost immediately, accepting the glamour with a perplexed look.

He then scribbled down the name of a random park in Tokyo she hadn't visited before, handing it over with a smirk. "Put that glamour on and visit this park on either Tuesday or Thursday, weather permitting. You'll find him near the duck pond."

She arched a brow, eyeing the vial. "He'll recognise me, even with a glamour on."

"Nah, that's my own creation- and I'm pretty darn brilliant at magic now!" he puffed out his chest, tilting his chin up in a very Sesshoumaru-like manner. Shippo then smiled warmly, taking the sketchbook and tearing out a page. "He's not being honest with you, but it's not outta nefarious purposes. You'll see," he reassured her. "He's changed. Even if he's still an asshole."

Kagome accepted the page, freezing. Her fingers stiffened, emotion clogging her throat at all the implications that came with the picture. She couldn't help but cry again in the safety of Shippo's arms- promptly bursting into tears while on the train ride home too.

Shippo's sketch remained clutched in her hands.

The weight of so much wasted time rested upon her heavily, making the woman bend low in her seat, ignoring the stares of other passengers and letting out several years of loneliness and disappointment. How her skin had ached and burned up with a fever of remembrance- straining for a demon lord to take her wrists and kiss her palms like he once had.

---

Overcast skies blocked out the sunshine that Tuesday, so she wondered if he'd show. The glamour had made her look like a 40-year old, a few grey streaks in her magically short hair. Brown eyes stared back at her instead of blue. She smelled like lavender and home cooking. Kagome sat upon a bench and pretended to read beside the duck pond. An available bench sat further away, nearer to the empty play park.

It was there that a dark-haired man eventually sat, five children having followed him. A lanky teen took a seat next to him, his hair short and grey- eyes milky white with blindness. Kagome squinted from behind her book, sensing he was a snake youkai. Two young hanyous of differing species immediately ran to the play park, squealing. One had concealed horns, the other hiding their leopard spots behind a glamour.

A human girl around the age of 11 carried a toddler to the edge of the duck pond, talking quietly with him and pointing to the ducks.

Kagome held back the hot sting of tears, forcing her gaze to the book in her hands and robotically turning a page.

"Shinto needs to get out of his room," the snake youkai was muttering sourly.

"There is little I can do. Did you wish for me to carry him kicking and screaming to the park with us?" Sesshoumaru snorted, elbows bent to rest on his knees.

Kagome glanced at him furtively from the corner of her eye.

Gone was the easy confidence he'd presented to her during their encounters- the impeccable dress-sense and untouchable air of a bachelor. He looked like a mess. Or rather, a single parent struggling to juggle too much at once. He wore a jacket that had seen better days, hair dishevelled and slight lines under his eyes.

"Maybe that would've been better," his adopted child was muttering, soon sighing and glancing to the side as Sesshoumaru toyed with his phone. "Do you even have her number?"

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, feigning ignorance. "Hm?"

"You know who I am referring to. Just ask for it from Uncle Shippo."

Dark lashes lowered, followed by a rich, silky chuckle that made Kagome's skin warm. "Such underhanded methods, Hiroji," he teased, "no wonder you're not popular with women."

Hazy eyes gazed in his general direction flatly, huffing. "Please refrain from trying to dodge the question. Have you actually asked this 'Kagome' woman out yet?"

"I invited her to coffee."

"Such a cheap date, Papa!" the human girl by the duck pond smiled, carrying her brother back to them. "Couldn't you have invited her ice-skating, or to a fancy restaurant?"

"Or to the park!" one of the Hanyous yelled from the swings.

Sesshoumaru cut his eyes to grey skies fondly, accepting the toddler from his daughter. "The location does not matter. Miss Higurashi is not easily swayed," he uttered, large hands toying with little boots. The toddler giggled, kicking his legs. "Initially, I wished to bury her with gifts, but she would merely see that as an attempt to 'buy' her. No, I sense only a display of humility and regret will soften her opinion of me, however that seems quite impossible."

"Hm? Why's that?" his daughter asked.

"Because I do not wish to use you all as an example of my having 'changed.' It would feel as though you are mere tools for my redemption," brown eyes slid away. "My mindset altered gradually over the centuries. No large thing triggered it. I know of no other way to prove myself other than introducing her to you."

Kagome could tell by the twitching of his fingers and the way he kept brushing them over his jaw absentmindedly that he was itching for a drag of his pipe. She'd wondered if he still occasionally smoked. He must've decided not to around his children.

"Sounds like heavy stuff," the girl hummed, patting his shoulder in consolation. "Can't you just say-" she cleared her throat, voice deepening into a poor imitation of Sesshoumaru's- "Miko, I've been falling in love with you since the first day we met. Fall into my arms~"

Deep brown eyes flattened, and he playfully shoved a hand into her face. "Things are not so easily fixed, Akiko."

"I see. Well, don't worry! If it doesn't work out, we can all go ice-skating instead!"

Sesshoumaru tsked, sinking back into his seat and allowing the toddler to snuggle up on his chest. "How dull. I'd much prefer to go on a date with a beautiful woman than babysit you brats."

Akiko only giggled and whined good-naturedly, calling him a 'meanie' before running off to join the Hanyous on the swings.

Left in silence, the Daiyoukai's brows knitted together, thoughts clearly far away.

Mild concern softened Hiroji's boyish features. "You should try talking to her again," he said quietly, so faintly Kagome could barely hear it.

"Hn, and why is that?"

Shifting, the snake demon glanced sightlessly in Kagome's direction- causing her blood to freeze in her veins. "I suspect she may be more receptive to speaking with you now, that is all. Call it a hunch."

Stiff shoulders slowly relaxed upon realising he wasn't going to expose her. After a few minutes, Kagome rose from her spot and slipped away from the park.

In the comfort of her own apartment, Kagome gazed at the sketch Shippo had given her; Sesshoumaru sleeping without a glamour obscuring his exotic features. Resting on mokomoko, his knees, and the crook of his arm were children, different from the ones at the park, but just as mixed in species.

It implied he'd been adopting them for centuries. What had started with Rin all those years ago- the accidental adoption of his first child, had become a long-enduring habit. And it also gave Kagome the stupid, insidious idea that maybe he wanted hanyou children now. Maybe he wanted them with her.

And that was too dangerous a thought to linger on if she was incorrect.

[yumgrapejuice]

ALRIGHT bitches it’s speculation time because my head is Buzzing with Thoughts

(long post incoming; all of this is /rp btw lol)

Okay so first I wanna establish what we know so far about Ender Ranboo (or, at least, what I remember lmao)

(I think it’s safe to assume when the voice talks about things that Ranboo does and doesn’t remember, he’s implying ERanboo is the one that does it. Not getting into the voice right now, but I’m gonna take whatever it has said as at least partial truth to what ERanboo has been doing.)

Ranboo isn’t conscious of ERanboo and only knows he exists because of the blackouts and because ERanboo leaves evidence of his existence

He’s most likely been helping out Dream at the very least from middle of December (Dream was aware of the butcher army that had been kept only between the cabinet members, so it’d make sense if ERanboo was the one that told him about it)

Dream had given him one of the discs, saying he trusts this state of Ranboo

He most likely gave Dream Ranboo’s memory book for some reason, which can mean multiple things, but I’m gonna assume here it could have been a sort of show of trust from his side too (which would mean there’s some sort of mutual trust between Dream and ERanboo)

ERanboo only writes in ender language, but, evident from what Sam said, can speak in English just fine (I don’t think it’s clear whether he can or cannot write in English as well)

He tends to roam around without interacting with anyone, not paying them any mind when they try to talk with him (based off of at least Fundy and Puffy’s attempt)

However, when he is interacting (based off of Sam and his chatting that one time with Phil, was it? Don’t recall exactly now), he acts just like Ranboo

Ranboo has woken up in places he didn’t remember falling asleep at, but never somewhere incriminating, which is either very lucky for ERanboo or it’s intentional

ERanboo is working on some sort of project and is cautious about not letting Ranboo find or figure out anything (hiding away the chest with the disc, disposing of the maps, hiding away his memory book, etc)

He’s visited the prison multiple times, the last time being between Bad’s and Ranboo’s attempted visit

He messed with the waivers, deleting everything and writing in ender

:) has an effect on him

Okay, so we have very little concrete information about ERanboo, but that’s not gonna stop me from trying to psychoanalyze him lmao. First things first, I think we can safely assume it is Ranboo, just a different state. When he does interact with others, he acts just like you’d expect Ranboo to act (biggest evidence being from the way Sam talked about him, never suspecting something to be off), and whlie you could argue he’s just pretending, I think it’s more likely he’s not, and I’ll tell you in a moment why. 

What sets him apart from Ranboo the most is his odd behavior, as mentioned in the bullet point. ERanboo doesn’t act like a human, which is very interesting, because Ranboo isn’t human either, but he’s mostly fine! To me it’s almost as if ERanboo has no concept of social norms or doesn’t care for them. Again, I think the former is more likely. ERanboo is intelligent, there’s no question about it, but he barely does anything to not come off as suspicious. If he’s working with Dream, that should be a priority to him, right? But he messed with the prison waivers, effectively locking himself out the moment Sam found out about it, which would just be dumb if he’d done it intentionally! Maybe he wanted to keep Ranboo out of the prison and this was his way of doing it, but it seems a bit too convoluted to me. Based off of his behavior with other people, I think his understanding of norms and proper communication and behavior is simply different. So yeah, he acts way less human than Ranboo, but is still Ranboo, because it’d make no sense if he pretended to be Ranboo but then continued acting suspicious in all other areas. 

The idea that ERanboo is a less human version of Ranboo gives ground for quite a bit of interesting speculation. I wanna talk about manipulation for a moment here. The fandom seems to have taken the term and just run with it lol. By definition, manipulation is skillful handling or something or someone, usually with the intention of acquiring something. Change variable A to get a desirable variable B. In essence, it’s not a bad or evil thing, it’s merely a tool that can be used for bad things. We engage in various forms of simple manipulation daily with no nefarious intentions! But generally, yes, it’s regarded as a bad thing because it’s mostly used for that, but those forms of manipulation are more intricate than the simple ones, such as gaslighting or emotional manipulation or the such. It goes from just trying to get your friend to let you copy their homework to convincing someone you’re the only one that cares. Something here is needed for manipulation to work; the victim needs to be susceptible enough.

If we took the clearest example from the dsmp, it’d be the whole Tommy thing during exile. The psychological manipulation Dream performed on Tommy was, speaking from an academic pov lol, very skillful. He hit Tommy where he knew it’d hurt, he was aware what Tommy valued and what he needed and how he thought, and used that against him for his own needs. Tommy, with how human he was, was the perfect victim (which sounds really really terrible and i am still not over that whole thing je sus chr ist). So, what I’m trying to get to here, can ERanboo... even be manipulated? At least, in the same sense or a similar way? Again, there are many types of manipulation, and just throwing the word around isn’t saying anything, but it just makes me think. How susceptible ERanboo actually is? He acts so unlike humans, at least from what we’ve seen so far, that imagining him being manipulated in the traditional sense feels a bit out of place (for me personally!!!). By no means am I saying I don’t believe that’s what’s going on, Dream can very well be manipulating ERanboo, but I also like to consider the alternatives, that, to me personally, seem more interesting :))

There are so many different ways we can speculate about Dream and ERanboo’s relationship, so I’m gonna give my own two cents lol. I’m gonna go off on the assumption that ERanboo’s isn’t being manipulated into helping Dream. Not only because I’m questioning whether he can even be manipulated, but also the nature of their relationship just seems... very personal? If it makes sense?

No one else is aware of it (Sam and I guess Sapnap now probably suspect something, though), and they’ve both been trying to keep it that way, even now when Dream’s locked up. If ERanboo was in any danger from Dream or was acting against his will, this could be the opportunity for him to get away, which he hasn’t been doing. That can be for multiple reasons, such as not realizing he’s being manipulated or being co-dependent or the such, but it can also very well be because he isn’t acting against his own will, and their relationship is based more on trust than deceit, for whatever reason. It’s really all about whether you’d like to think ERanboo is a puppet or if he has his free will and acts on his own accord, and I personally find the latter more fascinating:D  

Now, I really wanna talk about the whole :) thing, because FUCK is it so interesting. Up until now, I thought it was some sort of symbolic thing, but apparently not, and that opens up SO MUCH. Okay, first thing we gotta establish—not all :) are equal. 

Ranboo has had the smile in his memory book for a long while and has seen it multiple times without much of an effect (he does go quiet or more serious for a moment but that’s about it, at least lately). In the beginning, though, it had a much stronger effect, but less in regards to ERanboo and more about Ranboo’s own stability. It’d be great if we could separate which effects are intentional and which are just Ranboo freaking out lol. At the start, in regards to the smile in the book at least, I think it was more the latter. However, at one point he did say that looking at the smile is what causes the voice to appear, but lately it hasn’t been having any sort of effect. I have two guesses about it—either what impact it did have was caused by Ranboo’s instability, or the effect wore off over time. Issue with this is that we don’t know who exactly wrote the smile in the book. It could have been Dream, but it also could have been ERanboo for whatever reason. Because I don’t know, I’m not going to speculate about this particular smile any further. If it was written by Dream, intentions could also play a role here, but again, it’s pure guesswork.

What I am going to speculate is the other smiles, namely on the “thanks :)” note and Sapnap’s message. Both of these were definitely written by Dream, and I think both of these were intended for ERanboo, not Ranboo. On one of Ranboo’s latest stream’s, he started in his ender state, I think we can all agree on that. He went back to his house and found the thanks note, looked at it for a moment, and boom, Ranboo was back. Now, Sapnap said Dream had a message for him, sent him a smile, and boom, ERanboo time. So :) that is directly written by Dream must be some sort of trigger for their switch, but I think ERanboo is fully aware of it, and is, in fact, taking advantage of it. Ranboo never woke up in any suspicious place that put ERanboo’s plans in jeopardy, and has, actually, been waking up in his house lately! Surely, that’d make him less suspicious about what ERanboo is doing, right? ERanboo may not care much for how others perceived him, but I think he’s definitely taking a lot of precaution to keep Ranboo out of his business. 

No idea how :) came to be, but I think it’s a relatively new thing. The first time we’ve seen it in Ranboo’s vicinity was during the failed festival with the whole memory book and traitor thing. That didn’t immediately cause a switch, which leads me to believe either Dream didn’t write it, it wasn’t perceived as an indication to switch by ERanboo, or it wasn’t yet a trigger. Whatever the reason, we’ve only seen the smile be utilized for switching only a couple of times, both of which were very recent, so we can’t really assume it’s an old thing. It could have been developed as a sort of measure for ERanboo and Dream to have more control over switching, which would make sense if ERanboo is working on some sort of big project.

TL;DR: ERanboo is very confusing and very interesting and this mf is not even trying to be human, what’s his and dream’s deal, who knows, not me, very excited to see what the hell is happening

It’s very difficult to speculate about this since we’ve had so little info, but yeah! That’s what I’ve got right now lol. One single stream can throw all of my speculations out the window, which I’m more than happy to see happen if we get more insight on what’s actually happening:D 

i just think they’re rlly cool okay,,,,

(i’d also actually really like to hear what y’all think is going on, it’s so fun to speculate:>>)

[concealeddarkness13]

All’s Fair In Love And War (Especially When It’s Both) Powerpoint!

I finally made one for the worldbuilding and main characters! Tagging: @ratracechronicler​, @merigreenleaf​, @maple-writes​, @half-litpersonas​, and @incandescent-creativity​ (since you want to be tagged in Powerpoints)! Here, here, and here are other info posts about this story.

[Image Description: a page titled: All’s Fair In Love an War (Especially When It’s Both)

AKA: The story I already want to start writing, even though I already have plenty of stories. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Overview

One bit happy world

Except the fact that humans are stuck in a fairly small enclosure because they tried to conquer the other species centuries ago

At that time so long ago, a scientist made prosthetics that gave elemental magic to people but also adversely affected their bodies

More info on the magic in a later slide

So, humans aren’t very happy about being in the enclosure

Some humans have come to believe that being 100% peaceful and ignoring the victims of the magical cyborg experiments (because they’re still going on) is the best way to convince the species to let them out

While other humans are convinced that a show of force and violence is the only way to get out

But this group has shady connections with the magical cyborg experiments

So, both groups are iffy

Good thing there’s one POV protagonist who couldn’t care less and just wants to live her life. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: The Species (almost all these names are temporary)

Humans: Just regular, old, plain humans, nothing to see here, they certainly don’t have any inherent magic (that the author still knows nothing about), just the magic that is given to them through the prosthetics

The Shades: (Yes, this is the home world of the Shades from Bring Me That Horizon) the Shades eat human emotions, and they’re shapeshifters

The Snakes: This species feeds on human blood, they have snake scales, longer limbs in proportion to their body, large eyes, slit pupils, and snake scales all over their bodies; they have paralyzing toxins that are aerosols and are secreted by their hair; these toxins only paralyze humans

The Venus Girdles: This species feeds on human souls, they have hair that looks like a lot of Venus Girdle jellyfish fused to their head, they glow slightly, and they just have an ethereal feel; they feed using their Venus Girdle hair coming into contact with the prey’s skin and sucking up the life force, so a human can still live, and their soul will replenish the life force after a while; the feeding isn’t painful, just makes the human feel really tired

The Crabs (I suppose): This species claims to feed on human logic, they have carapace that grows over their skin, especially on their chest to protect their hearts, they’re usually faster and stronger than humans, and they have slit pupils; they actually feed on the inherent magic humans have (surprise, surprise the prosthetics are not even needed), and their carapace is especially anti-magic

The Celestials: This is a species no one has ever seen, but there’s a whole belief system around them, and they are actually real; I don’t know what they eat, but they live out in space around the planet, they protect the planet from invaders, their skin looks like the night sky, their hair and clothes are all flowy and wave in an ever-present wind, and they can change their body’s make-up to fit the atmosphere of the planet or space. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: The Magic from the Prosthetics

It’s elemental magic...with a nefarious twist!

The fire magic lets a person control fire, but the source of their fire resides in their lungs, and if they exercise too much or get stressed out, the fire stokes and burns their throat (but they can breathe fire), and occasionally, they’ll have to cough up smoke

The water magic allows a person to control water and swim really well, but after a year, they grow gills, and that’s a painful process, and randomly, their bodies will forget how to use lungs, so they will have to breathe through their gills for an unspecified amount of time, which sucks if there isn’t a good water source around

The wind magic allows a person to control air, but they grow wings, which sounds great, but it takes two to three years to grow those wings, and it’s very painful throughout the whole process, and they hurt more than they should even after the wings are fully grown

Finally, the lightning magic allows a person to control lightning, but they basically have lightning in their bodies the whole time, which means that they have 24/7 static electricity that makes their hair stand on end, and the energy the lightning gives their bodes means they really can’t sleep, which really sucks, so they’re chronically tired. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Characters

I have way too many characters

Seriously, there are a lot of them

So, I’ll only talk about the really main characters

But I’m having fun, so it’s ok! End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Chess

One of the POV characters

She was part of the most recent cyborg experiments (which are still going on), but she doesn’t remember any of it; her right arm and left leg are prosthetics

Actually, she doesn’t remember anything past two years ago, so she doesn’t know who she was before that

Because she was part of the cyborg experiments, people don’t particularly like to see her if they can identify her prosthetics

So, she keeps moving from city to city once people start to recognize her prosthetics

Survivor; the only time she doesn’t prioritize survival is when she goes to a bar and picks up someone so she doesn’t have to sleep alone

She doesn’t believe anyone would do anything for reasons other than selfish ones

Doesn’t trust anyone

Chill, though; she could see some alien she can’t explain and she’d just shrug; she also has no opinion on either of the different sides

One night, she’s found kissing the son of the leaders, and that causes a scandal

So, the leaders decide to cover it up by trying to say she’s really human and had been engaged to their son the whole time

Creed, their son, decides to cause some mischief, and she agrees

She keeps claiming that soon she’ll have to leave, but she never does

“I put my head down keep running away from it, anywhere I’m going can’t be worse than this, I need to get away before it pulls me in, I’m never ever getting close to anyone again.” (Right Left Wrong by Three Days Grace). End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Creed

He’s the son of the leaders

...But is he?

He’s known as Callum Miro Rey, but he likes the nickname Creed (spoiler reasons why)

When they met at the bar, he seemed to recognize Chess from somewhere, but of course, she doesn’t remember

He is genderfluid, and I’m still figuring that out; he likes he/him, they/them, and she/her on different days, and it changes every couple days normally

He seems to be easily amused and doesn’t have an opinion on whether peace or violence is the best way to go

He just likes to watch humans bicker about the different sides

Doesn’t seem to care about much, but he does seem to actually have some kind of fond feelings for Chess

They become partners in mischief, to more? Possibly.

“And now the silence screams that you are gone, you’ve tuned me out, I’ve lost your frequency.” (Frequency by Starset). End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Vesper

She is an important member of the peace group; she gives speeches about the logic of staying peaceful to get out of the enclosure

She grew up with parents who were hosts to the various ambassadors the different species would send inside the enclosure

Her parents always taught her to bury her emotions and never show that something affected her

While observing the ambassadors, she came to the conclusion that there was no way to fight the different species and expect to get out of the enclosure, that the only way to get out is to make the other species see humans as such a non-threat that they wouldn’t care about letting them out

Because she’s such a high rank in the peace movement, the violence movement sends the infamous demon twins, Thorne and Jude, to capture her

She’s logical, but she does have emotions, and she actually feels them very deeply, she just never shows them

And she’s also self sacrificial, very much so

“No one is coming to save you, the enemy means only to play you, and they take and they take and they give just a little.” (Save You by Manafest) End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Thorne

His full name is Thorne Ragnik (and I’m only saying this because I’m proud I actually thought up last names)

He’s part of the violence movement, one of the demon twins (even though they aren’t twins)

He grew up poor because both of his parents were part of the previous cyborg experiments, so they were ignored by society (because the leaders are part of the peace movement), and now he’s an orphan

As such, he stole to survive, and one day, he stole from Jude’s parents’ house, and Jude caught him

But instead of raising the alarm, Jude decided to help Thorne because he wanted to and also because of the mischief

They’ve both been part of the violence movement for a few years, and they’ve become infamous for capturing opponents to the violence movement in their special way

Which means dancing with their prey until the prey is thoroughly confused and dazed

Thorne is more of the serious one, but he also gets dryly dramatic really quick

He wears a normal suit most of the time. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Jude

His full name is Jude Laynor

His parents are nobles that believe in the peace movement

And he’s a trickster who loves mischief

So, he doesn’t get along with his parents much

And when he was young, he met Thorne when Thorne tried to steal from his parets’ house, and he didn’t care

He actually hangs out with Thorne a lot after that, and he’s one of the reasons Thorne becomes more lighthearted

He joined the violence movement with Thorne at the same time, and they quickly became known as the demon twins

He’s more playful and teasing, and he wears fancy, flashy stuff

He grins all the time. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Maisa

He’s a Shade who has taken an interest in Vesper

He’s actually part of a group of different species that are working to make sure the humans never leave the enclosure, and in fact, they want to control humans even more

Vesper came to the conclusion that peace is the only way on her own, but once Maisa took an interest in her, he started manipulating her to make her believe even more in the peace movement

He manipulates her by seducing her, because of course

And Vesper knows Maisa’s horrible, but she thinks her sacrifice is worth it to let other people out of the enclosure

Maisa’s selfish, possessive, and a jerk

He’s a shapeshifter, and he does change between male and female sometimes

He basically feels he’s entitled to Vesper (he’s so interested in her because she does feel deep emotions even though she doesn’t show them), so when Thorne and Jude capture her, he’s going to send minions after them. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Quin

He’s the final POV character, but he won’t show up as a POV right away

That’s because neither Chess nor Vesper know that there are humans living on the outside of the enclosure, so that reveal should be hidden a little

I’m not sure how yet, but Quin was captured by the group of different species that want humans to stay in the enclosure sometime before the story starts

They keep him as basically an animal in a small cage: they show him off to the other species to convince them that humans aren’t sentient (which the group knows isn’t correct, but they want the others to believe so)

The species speak in their language around him (that he doesn’t speak), but one day, while they’re showing him off, he speaks back to them in their language because he learned a few phrases from them talking it around him so much

Which leads to him getting tortured for interrupting their plans

Which then leads to the totally not inherent magic in humans coming to the surface for Quin and helping him escape

He’s scared and doesn’t trust people much

Which leads him to the becoming a part of a small group of one human and a few different species or half-species, who is moving around outside the enclosure (I don’t know all of the characters, so they’ll go on the extra characters powerpoint if I make one)

I’m not sure all that he’ll do in this story, but he’ll be fun! End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Aeflin

She is a human antagonist, she’s the scientist that is conducting the magic cyborg experiments now

She’s bubbly and happy, and she actually gives really good life advice

She just also doesn’t have very good ethics when she’s being a scientist

Very curious and will ask you tons of questions if she doesn’t understand what’s going on

She is with the other antagonist on the next slide, and they’re in a loving relationship. End Description]

[Image Description: a page titled: Naivi

She’s the second human antagonist, she’s working on the outside of the enclosure to destroy the other species

She’s charming and teasing, at least to people who aren’t her enemies

I don’t know all of her backstory, but she’s a victim, while she also does some horrible things

Duality!

I already know she’s going to be a fun character. End Description]

[remywrites5]

           Remus looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He really needed to get more sleep, the bags under his eyes had taken up permanent residence there, and his roots were starting to come in. He spat into the sink and then rinsed his toothbrush off. When he glanced back up at himself, there was the same harrowing reflection staring back. He needed to at least re-dye his hair pink or else pick a different colour.

           He’d dyed it pink on a whim after his last breakup. He thought maybe going from his usual tawny curls to something else would make him more exciting, more cheerful, more something. “Why are you never smiling?” Benjy had asked Remus all the time. As if Remus should just constantly be smiling like some kind of insane person.

           Remus walked over to his desk and flopped into his rolling chair. He sat with one leg bent up towards his chest and hunched over his tablet. The thing was so old it was practically a dinosaur. The program he used to draw on was always crashing – causing Remus to do almost constant saving. Drawing web comics wasn’t exactly the most lucrative use of his art degree, but it paid the bills.

           There was some sort of ungodly sound outside and then the distinct clatter of something breaking. Remus jumped to his feet in surprise, wondering if someone had climbed up to his flat to murder him. Two shadows appeared at his door and then one of them knocked. Well, if they were murderers, they were of the polite variety.

           Remus walked over tentatively, his pen for his tablet still in his hand as his only means of defense. He figured at the least maybe he could poke a few eyes.

           “I don’t think anyone is home.”

           “He has to be home. I haven’t seen him leave the house in days.”

           “Hmm, paying close attention, are we?”

           “Shut up, Jamie.”

           “Ow!”

           Confused, Remus opened the door to find two guys standing on the other side. The dark-skinned one with glasses immediately smiled, while the pale one with long dark hair kept his face neutral.

           “Hiya! I’m James and this is Sirius,” James said, moving what was in his hand so that he could wave. “We run the bakery downstairs. We just came to introduce ourselves and bring you these!”

           Remus took the container when James offered it, still a little bit stunned by the whole thing, and opened it up. Inside was an assortment of baked goods. “Oh. Thank you,” Remus said, a little bit at a loss for words. “This is really nice.”

           Remus was suddenly struck by the fact that two very attractive men were on his doorstep and Remus was wearing the same hoodie he’d worn for three days. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d put on deodorant. Embarrassed beyond belief, Remus felt his cheeks flush.

           “Aren’t you going to say anything?” James prompted his friend, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder.

           “Hi,” Sirius said, running his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

           Remus swallowed thickly and quickly put the container of goodies down. He didn’t trust his shaking hands not to drop them. “Nice to meet you.”

           “Whoa, are you an artist?” James asked, noticing the pen in Remus’ hand. “Do you think you could design something for us?”

           “James, don’t impose,” Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest.

           “I’m not imposing!” James insisted, turning and shooting Sirius a look. “We’ll pay for the work. It’s just right now our menus are so bland! They don’t really say ‘Padfoot and Prongs’ Patisserie.”

           “That’s a fancy name,” Remus said, tucking the pen behind his ear so that he could shove his hands in his pockets. Suddenly they’d gotten all sweaty.

           “Yeah well, this wanker is half French, so he wouldn’t let me call it a pastry shop,” James said teasingly. “By the way, you haven’t told us your name.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, realizing that James was right. He shuffled his feet slightly and kind of wished James and Sirius would leave. He hadn’t had such a long social interaction in months. This was getting to be a bit much, and James’ enthusiasm was draining. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

           “So do you think you can design something for our menus?” James asked excitedly, his hazel eyes big behind his glasses.

           “Um, sure, I’ll take a stab at it,” Remus offered, even though he kind of didn’t want to. He had deadlines to meet and he was already a little behind. But then James and Sirius had brought him baked goods without having even met Remus before. Besides, how hard could designing a menu be?

           “Great!” James said, slapping Sirius on the back. “Isn’t that great, Padfoot?”

           Sirius sighed. “Sure is.”

           Remus pulled out his wallet and handed James one of his business cards. It had been Benjy’s idea that Remus get them. This was only the second Remus had even given out. The first one had been given the Benjy. What a waste of money.

           “My email is at the bottom,” Remus explained, pointing to it on the card. “Just send me the details of what you want and I’ll work something up.”

           Sirius tilted his head to the side. “What are your rates?”

           “Um…” Fuck, Remus hadn’t exactly thought about it. He knew what he charged per page on his web comic but this was completely different. “How about you just, um, let me get a free baked good from time to time and we’ll call it even?”

           “Of course!” James said, nodding emphatically.

           “Hold on,” Sirius interjected, putting his hand up to stop James. “For the rest of time you want free shit from us? Just for a doodle?”

           “Sirius –“ James cut in, his face slightly aghast at his friend’s harsh tone.

           “I – I won’t abuse it or anything,” Remus said, feeling his face heat. Christ, the way Sirius was looking at him made him nervous. “It won’t be every day or anything like that.”

           Sirius huffed and turned his face away. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cut you off.”

           “Okay.”

           “Perfect,” James said, tugging on Sirius’ arm. “We should get back downstairs. We’ve still got a lot to do before we open. I’ll email you later, Remus!”

           “Sounds good,” Remus said, waving after them as they started down the fire escape. The moment he closed the door, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He didn’t know what Sirius’ problem was, but the fewer interactions Remus had with him the better.

                                                           ***

           Remus finished up the latest update for his comic and sat back with a groan. It was already 10:30 at night and Remus hadn’t had any dinner. For once he had been in a good flow and hadn’t wanted to stop. Now his stomach was so empty it hurt. He couldn’t remember eating breakfast either.

           He walked over to where he had left the baked good James had dropped off and carried the container into bed. He sat munching on them as he scrolled through his phone. He had eaten about half of them when he remembered James was supposed to contact him. He pulled up his email and sure enough there was a message from James Potter.

           Apparently they wanted something kind of classy involving a buck and a black dog. Remus was intrigued, and popped a custard crème into his mouth. Their stuff really was mouth-wateringly good. Remus was glad he had asked for pastries instead of cash. While he could use the money, he tended to live on instant noodles and bacon sandwiches. Having something from the bakery from time to time would be a real treat.

                                                           ***

           Remus’ flat was on the top floor of the building and it meant he had almost exclusive rooftop access. He hadn’t done much with it except put out a table and two chairs. He really only went out there to smoke anyway. He stood by the side of the roof with his elbows on the ledge, watching the street below, his cigarette resting between his lips.

           Sirius exited the bakery and walked down the side alley of the building. He seemed to be having a heated discussion with someone on the phone. Remus felt himself tracking Sirius with his eyes, even though he didn’t mean to.

           “Damn it, Reg, I already told you –“ Sirius seemed to be cut off by the other person on the phone. “I don’t care if they cut me off. I’m not going on a blind date that my mum set up with a woman! I haven’t lived in that house for five years and she still thinks she can control me. Now she’s even roping you into it.”

           Remus felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but the street was relatively quiet at that time of day, so it was difficult not to hear. Remus wondered why Sirius had said woman like that, as if he were offended by being set up with someone female. Remus didn’t want to get his hopes up that Sirius might also be gay. Thinking that was a dangerous route to go down. He tried to finish up his cigarette and go back inside before he was spotted, but it seemed Sirius was done with his conversation. He dropped his phone by his side and looked up at the sky. His eyes seemed to immediately land on Remus and Remus felt his cheeks heat up in response. He took a slow drag of his ciggy and let it out, letting his eyes drift away as if he hadn’t just been staring.

           He wasn’t wholly surprised when he heard footsteps making their way up the fire escape. He finished his cigarette and lit another one. He usually didn’t chain smoke like this, considering all the nicotine often made him dizzy, due to how little he ate most days. He turned when Sirius made it onto the roof and somehow managed to meet Sirius’ accusing stare.

           “How much of that did you hear?” Sirius asked, slipping his phone into his pocket.

           Remus scratched his cheek with his free hand. “Uh, the whole thing?”

           Sirius sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Can I bum one of those?”

           Remus opened the pack and shook one out towards Sirius. Sirius slid it between his lips and leaned in when Remus flicked the lighter to light it. Remus hadn’t noticed it the first time they met, but Sirius had grey eyes. Remus had never seen someone with eyes like that before.

           Remus had no idea what to say, so he just continued smoking, watching Sirius out of his peripheral vision. It was a little awkward, but not unbearably so, and it seemed Sirius was happy to smoke in silence. Sirius’ apron was covered in flour, and what Remus hoped was jam of some kind. not something more nefarious based on its red colour. The last thing he needed was a Sweeney Todd situation in his building.

           Remus and Sirius finished their cigarettes at the same time and both killed them in the ashtray. They were standing so close, should to shoulder, and Remus had no idea why that made his heart race. He turned towards Sirius in order to say his goodbyes, and suddenly Sirius was even closer.

           “Well, I should –“

           Remus didn’t finish that sentence as Sirius was leaning in. He was moving with intent and his lips just barely brushed against Remus’. Remus gasped, the sound getting swallowed up as Sirius’ lips pressed more firmly against Remus’. Remus let himself enjoy it for a moment, Christ, it had been so long since he’d kissed someone, before he brought himself back to his sense.

           “What are you doing?” he demanded, pushing Sirius away.

           Sirius’ eyes searched Remus’ for a moment and then he took another step back. “Fuck, I – I’m sorry. I don’t even have an excuse.”

           Remus grinned as he watched Sirius flounder for a moment. He decided to let Sirius off the hook. It was just a little kiss after all. “Hey, I’m almost done with the menu design. Do you want to see it?”

           The tension in Sirius’ shoulders ebbed at Remus’ offer. “Yeah, sure.”

           Remus told Sirius to sit down at the little table while Remus went inside to get his tablet. He brought it out and sat down across from Sirius. He opened up the menu design and placed it in front of Sirus. He was actually a little nervous as Sirius looked it over. It was a buck and a dog running through a forest surrounded by berry bushes. James had explained in the email that their homemade jam was a huge selling point for them and they wanted the menu to emphasize that.

           “It’s not too dark, is it?” Remus asked, chewing his bottom lip.

           “No, I think it’s perfect.” Sirius glanced up, and for the first time Remus had seen, Sirius smiled. “We’re doing a soft opening in two days. You should come.”

           “Will I have to pay?” Remus teased, resting his chin in his hand and looking at Sirius.

           Sirius laughed. “Fine, you don’t have to pay. What kind of pastry do you like best? I’ll make it for you.”

           Remus considered it for a moment. “Jammy dodgers.”

           Sirius’ grin widened. “You got it.”

                                                             ***

           Remus went to the soft opening, even though he hadn’t been around that many people in a while, and it put his social anxiety through the roof. He met James’ wife, Lily, and their son, Harry. He also met quite a few of James and Sirius’ closest friends. Even though everyone was very nice, Remus couldn’t help feeling a bit like an outsider.

           However, Remus didn’t miss the way that his jammy dodgers seemed to be the only ones with little hearts in the middle. That knowledge alone was enough to make him stick around.

                                                           ***

           Remus was in trouble. His web comic was about a werewolf and a vampire that fell in love with each other. The werewolf character struck a striking resemblance to Remus, although the character had Remus’ original hair colour. The idea had come to him based on his name. The vampire character, however, had short dark hair and red eyes. Yet, whenever Remus found himself drawing him, his hair seemed to be getting progressively longer for no discernable reason and his eyes seemed to be grey.

           It didn’t help that Remus saw Sirius pretty much every day. During his lunch break, Sirius would bring up something from the bakery, and they would sit together at the little table and eat and smoke. Remus had gotten to know Sirius, little by little, cracking away at Sirius’ shell to the gooey center underneath. Despite his first impression of Sirius, and his original cold exterior, Remus found the man himself was mushy and romantic and sweet.

           Remus told Sirius about the fact that he’d always meant to make a little rooftop garden, but as of yet hadn’t really gotten around to buying any plants. Sirius showed up the next day with a little tree.

           “It’s called Dogwood,” he’d said with a knowing grin. He had continued to buy Remus several flowers and plants since then. He’d even brought some herbs for cooking, even though Remus insisted he didn’t really cook. Every time Sirius and Remus found a place for the new plant, Sirius would get that same smile. A smile that had started to cause butterflies in Remus’ stomach.

           There was no talk about the conversation Remus had overheard or of the kiss they’d shared. Remus figured both topics were off limits.

           Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get Sirius out of his head.

                                                           ***

           Remus dropped his head back and groaned. “I told you if you didn’t stop me I would eat all six éclairs.”

           “An impressive feat,” Sirius said, grinning behind his wine glass as he took a sip.

           “I hate you,” Remus said, scrubbing his hand over his face. He was starting to sweat a bit from overeating. “I’m going to put on so much weight.”

           “You could use some more meat on your bones,” Sirius responded with a shrug. “You barely eat as it is.”

           “I was right, this is a Sweeney Todd situation, you’re fattening me up to put me in a pie,” Remus bemoaned, clutching his stomach. That last éclair had really done him in.

           “We don’t even serve meat pies at the bakery,” Sirius said in amusement. “I think you’re safe.”

           “I’m not buying it,” Remus said, staring at Sirius accusingly. “Why else would you bring me all these sweets?”

           Sirius glanced away, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. “For an excuse to come see you.”

           “Oh,” Remus said, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Really?”

           Sirius stood up and walked over to Remus, placing his hand on the back of Remus’ chair, and leaning into him. “So, I made a mess of our first kiss. Think you might let me try again?”

           “Um.” Remus stared up at Sirius and let out a shaky breath. “Yes. W-we can do that.”

           Sirius slid his fingers through Remus’ curls until his hand came to rest at the back of Remus’ head. Then he guided their lips together into a soft kiss. Remus opened his mouth first, and Sirius was quick to follow suit, their tongues meeting in a mixture of chocolate, wine and cigarettes. Remus eagerly chased the taste from Sirius’ mouth.

           Sirius pulled back after a few life-altering moments. Remus felt his eyes flutter open to find that Sirius was smiling at him. God, Remus loved it when Sirius smiled. “I could eat you up, I really could,” Sirius sang softly.

           Remus busted out laughing. “Do not sing Sweeney Todd at me when you’re trying to be romantic.”

           Sirius chuckled and pulled Remus up into a hug. “Noted. Should I just tell you I love you then?”

           Remus hugged Sirius back, burying his face in Sirius’ neck, ignoring the deep blush currently on his face. “I-I think that would work.”

           “Well?” Sirius asked expectantly, turning his face and pressing a kiss to Remus’ forehead.

           Remus hugged Sirius tighter. “I love you too.”

           Remus stood there, in a moment so like a fairy tale that he didn’t want it to end, wishing he could freeze time. He stood in the moonlight, embracing the man he had come to adore, surrounded by all the plants Sirius had bought just for him. It felt like more than Remus deserved, but he wasn’t about to let it go. He could only hope the next moment would be just as sweet.  

[leisurelypanda]

Thundershield concept: moderno au, no powers, the odinson siblings (including hela) are the heirs of a big mafia legacy. Steve is an FBI agent who is demanteling a drug case that's been going on for a long time but they never have enough proof of the one's behind that; after a stressful week he goes to a bar with his companions to relax, there he meets a broad, big, blond, attractive guy who ends up being the owner of the bar and invites him a drink. (1)

It ends up being a great night for Steve who goes home with a new phone number and a date promise. Later on, new tracks start guiding to the odinson which ensues on angst, indecision, and broken hearts (or does it?). (2)

Oh god, I can only imagine how this plays out! Thor is a perfect gentleman with Steve when they meet. I mean, obviously he wouldn't just mention that he ran a mafia organization. He's been in the business a long time and he's not the sort to let a pretty face make him stupid. But it's obvious from the start that Steve feels burnt out with his job and I imagine Thor offers him a way to escape it.

It's a night of amazing, intense sex. Sometimes Thor fucks like a beast and other times he was gentle and affectionate. Steve loved every minute of it. Maybe it's irresponsible for him to be so taken in by a guy he just met while he's working a case, but dammit, he's been working this case for months and he's made little progress. He knew when he was assigned the case that it was a punishment. The higher ups didn't like how outspoken he was.

He starts to find himself distracted by his new paramour and the date they have planned. He's pretty sure Thor owns more than just the bar when Thor takes him out to a classy restaurant with balcony seating and no prices to be seen anywhere on the menu. It's far and away the fanciest place Steve has been to, but Thor doesn't seem too concerned. He spends the evening wining and dining Steve, all charm and grace and confidence. Steve finds himself opening up more and more. Not details, but just the general dissatisfaction he has with his job. Thor is sympathetic and attentive to Steve's concerns. Steve really feels like Thor understands what he's going through.

The dates and sex with Thor become regular occurrences as Steve continues to work what seems to be a dead end case. It takes another two months before they finally have a new lead that seems promising. The more they pursue it, the more promising it seems. Steve feels relieved, but also sad. Solving the case means that he'll have to return to DC. Maybe that won't mean anything to someone with as much money as Thor, but Steve still wants to be with him. Part of him is thinking of resigning and moving back to New York City so he can be closer to Thor. The FBI was a good opportunity when it started, but it was increasingly clear that his job was going nowhere.

They bust a storehouse. It ends up containing dozens of pounds of drugs and other illegal material. The owners are taken in to the station and slapped with charges. Steve makes his final report to his higher ups, after which he resigns from the FBI. They accept without much argument, confirming what Steve thought. They were probably glad to be rid of him.

Later that evening, he gets a text from Thor to meet him at the bar where they met. Steve leaves immediately. He finds Thor at a table near the back of the bar with a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses. He smiles and makes a beeline to Thor, who kisses him.

The evening is odd, though Thor is the same as he always is. Finally, when Steve tells him about how he solved the case, Thor speaks.

"I understand you'll be looking for work soon," he says. Steve takes a sip of whiskey.

"How did you know that?" Steve asks.

"I have my ways," Thor says. "I told you, I know everything that happens in this city."

Steve nods. "I don't suppose you know someone who's hiring then?"

"As a matter of fact, I find myself in need of someone with your... talents," Thor says. "Someone who can take care of problems efficiently."

"Sounds a bit unsavory," Steve said.

"Business is business, my love," Thor said. "Sometimes it is unpleasant, but almost all business is unpleasant at some point."

"You're dancing around the question," Steve said. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be mine," Thor says darkly. "I can offer you the life you deserve to have. Wealth, comfort, employment if you want it. All you have to do is take my name for your own and leave your former life behind."

"And what is your name?" Steve asked. "Is Thor really your name?"

"Of course. My name is Thor Odinson," Thor says. It all clicks into place then. The extravagant home, the fancy dinners, the mysterious background. Thor is the notorious head of the Russian mafia, one of three siblings. Three heirs, each as dangerous as the next. This man probably oversaw massive criminal activity. If Steve left and turned him over to the FBI, he would probably be famous. His career prospects would improve exponentially.

But.

He didn't seem to care. Once he might have been horrified to know that he slept with such a man, let alone had feelings, or even love for him. Now... to accept his offer, to become an Odinson, and work with such a man in whatever nefarious business dealings he had... he would surely never be able to return. Then again, he had already left his job. Would he even want to go back? He had done unscrupulous things for the FBI. At least Thor was honest about doing unscrupulous things. Much of it would even be similar.

"I accept," Steve says. "I'll be yours."

Thor smiles broadly and holds up his glass. "To us, my love, and to an exciting and profitable future."

[crimsonrae]

The Wiles of Men and Women

Chapter Four

Summary: Georgiana Stafford has just become betrothed to a man older than her father. Her last chance to enjoy society on her terms comes the night that court celebrates the birth of Princess Mary. She was prepared for just about anything, but she hadn't been prepared for him. Charles Brandon.

CharlesxOC,

Rated: Mature

A/N:  Here is Chapter Four. I’ve been re-watching the first season and Charles really is a little shit: Between thinking of what he had done to Buckingham’s daughter to make her beg, teasing Margret (though really she deserved and enjoyed it) and hearing him tell a paramour to ‘Get her husband to lick it off’ ... I’m like ‘I kind of want to smack you.’ So to clarify this is very early Charles right now - he’s about twenty-three/ twenty-fourish and Katerina: I would place about five years older than Georgiana. Thank you to everyone who liked and showed support. I always love hearing from you guys. 💕 I really appreciate it 😊. Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

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Big Bad Wolf

Katerina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she helped Georgiana ready herself. In truth, the younger girl hardly needed her assistance, but the finishing of laces and plaiting of hair was a good distraction from the conversation that the maid needed to eventually begin. It wasn't until Georgiana had tied a simple ribbon around her crown and picked up a cloak that Katerina didn't remember seeing in the Lady's trunk that she knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Lady Georgiana..." Katerina began hesitantly, not feeling embolden as Georgiana merely turned a sweet acknowledging glance her way. It was too trusting and made her gut twist with mild guilt. She silently cursed Charles Bandon's name, "When we go to the markets you need to be on your guard."

Georgiana frowned bemused, while she was an Earl's daughter, she had been to the markets before... not London's, but Wiltshire had its own section of stalls and shops. She lifted an incurious brow at her lesser, "Were you planning on stopping in a tavern or a brothel?"

It was Katerina's turn to blink in confusion, "...N-no, milady."

"Are we still getting herbs and a few bits and bobbles?" Georgiana pressed unconcerned as Katerina nodded, "Then what nefarious activity should I be on guard for?"

"Not a what really... more a who." Katerina edged uncomfortably as she refrained from fidgeting.

By this point, Georgiana had turned her full attention to her servant with an expression torn between amused and expectant. The last time she had seen someone look this uncomfortable it had been her mother as her father announced whom she was to marry. As that particular memory, her amusement became somewhat tempered, "A who?"

Katerina nodded, "It seems that Mr. Charles Brandon has taken an interest in you, milady. I believe he will seek you out at the markets today."

Georgiana felt a strange mix of emotions at the servant's words. She was suddenly terrified that Charles had discovered where his lost lamb had gotten to, but also excited? Nervous? Her heart was doing funny things in her chest while her stomach seemed to flutter in dread. She had no liking for any of it.

Feeling flushed and suddenly trembling, she attempted to keep her expression as placid as possible. She had told Katerina much about the man who had taken her maidenhead, but not his name and she was reluctant to give that particular detail away now, "Mr. Brandon? For what purpose? He knows that I'm engaged to Lord Somerset."

An almost pitying grimace crossed Katerina's expression, "Mr. Brandon cares not for such details... He has something of a reputation when it comes to the ladies of court."

Some part of Georgiana was wholly unsurprised by this pronouncement. She had heard a few whispers during tea and promenades with a few of the courtly matrons, but it was the way he had pursued and ravaged her that had already clued Georgiana onto that fact. Charles had been entirely too confident in everything he did that night not to have a few lovers. She had only been relieved to find that he wasn't married. She couldn't bear the thought of humiliating another woman in such a way... though she had hoped, perhaps naively, that Charles would feel the same.

Heart sinking in her chest, she stubbornly pushed her swelling emotions away, "Well, Mr. Brandon will simply have to learn that just because he chases doesn't mean he'll capture his quarry."

"Of course, milady." There was a pause as Katerina watched her young mistress flare almost defiantly at her unintendingly patronizing tone.

Then a thought seemed to occur to Georgiana as her gaze narrowed faintly, "Katerina, how does Mr. Brandon know I'll be at the markets? I haven't told a soul."

Katerina felt an embarrassed flush climb to her cheeks as she weakly uttered, "My apologies, milady..."

A strange stab of betrayal welled in Georgiana as she quickly connected the dots. She felt angry that her information had been given away so easily and wondered at what else her servant had imparted.

Shakily, she demanded, "What else did you tell him? Should I be waiting for more lecherous men to hound my heels now that I'm... I'm damaged goods. Should I expect Lord Somerset to break off our engagement? Will my father be storming through that door to vent his humiliation and anger at me?"

Katerina's emerald eyes widen in surprise as she softly shook her head.

"No, no, milady. It wasn't like that at all..." She sighed and tried to find the right words, "I don't gossip, milady. It leads to too much trouble, especially around here. Mr. Brandon knows this about me... he knows me too well." She said a little bitterly, "The only information I conveyed, was your whereabouts. Anything else he would have to get elsewhere."

Georgiana studied her a moment in an almost surly manner. Katerina's frustrated anger hadn't escaped her notice. She knew resentment like that and it brought a thin strain of concern to the surface as tentatively she asked, "You're angry with him...did he force you, Katerina? Did he hurt you?"

A rueful chuckle left the servant as she shook her head, "I'm angry with me, milady. Mr. Brandon can be quite persuasive when he wants to be and almost single-handedly determined. It's why I warn you to beware of him, be on your guard. You have yet to be exposed to his particular set of charms, but that should only give you armor against him."

Georgia nearly choked on an incredulous laugh that bubbled in her throat. Oh, she knew Mr. Brandon's charms alright... And so too, it seemed did Katerina. A different feeling of betrayal wound tight around her heart, but she knew it was silly to even feel it. Brandon wasn't hers, after all.

Pouting vaguely, she sent an uncertain glance to the fearful maid, "Only my whereabouts?"

"Yes, milady." Katerina stated soundly a feeling of quiet relief settled in her stomach as it slowly became clear that Georgiana wouldn't have her dismissed.

To her credit, Georgiana managed to force out a grudgingly sympathetic smile and retort, "He is rather handsome, isn't he?"

Katerina giggled, "If only he didn't know it, milady."

Georgiana hummed in agreement before her smile turned sly and she teased, "Well, we should go get you some of your tea then."

Katerina blinked in shock at the lighthearted dig but found another chuckle escaping as she nodded in agreement. Suddenly, she was rather looking forward to Brandon's encounter with Georgiana. It would be a show, of that the servant was certain.

       ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺   ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Charles was beginning to hate the markets.

Admittedly, the last time he had spent any time here was when he had been a boy. It had been a treat then, now his business tended more towards the smiths and cobblers than any of the food stores. He was finding it all very tedious and boring. He had waved off more than one vendor seeking his coin and quickly learned to steer clear of the stalls selling fish and hens – the stench would wake a dead man. Though a particularly good noonday meal was had, when he had discovered where the baker resided. Since then, he had been content to linger near its walls as he carefully scanned the milling crowds.

A little over an hour had passed and he had yet to see either Katerina or the Lady Georgiana. He was beginning to think he had been misled. On the verge of giving up his hunt, Charles wandered from the food stalls toward the blacksmiths. This trip was not to be wasted; he had been meaning to order a new sword for the tournaments and this was as good a time as any.

Of course, it was when he set his sights on new endeavors that his original one came into view. He found Kitty amongst the stalls catering to spices and liniments. Her fiery red hair made her a beacon in the crowd. Quickly, he stepped back amongst the shadows of the booths as he observed her bartering with a merchant for some herbs. He did another scan of the area but saw no courtly lady hovering nearby.

He frowned.

It was possible that Lady Georgiana had changed her mind and had simply sent Katerina in her stead. If that were the case then his time spent milling about had been wasted indeed.

Quietly, he sidled up to Kitty as a small jar of dried leaves was passed to her. She peered up at him in curiosity before a disgruntled frown befell her lips. He tried not to grin at her dour look. Kitty was always fun to tease – her unwillingly willing participation in his games never ceased to amuse him.

"Kitty."

"Mr. Brandon." His name sounded like an epithet from her lips.

He smiled beguilingly, "Where is your mistress?"

Katerina hummed dispassionately under her breath, though a subtle mocking gleam entered her gaze at his question, "She is here, sir."

Charles found himself narrowing his gaze at the servant, "Where, Kitty?"

"Use your eyes, sir." Katerina instructed almost loftily as she placed her jar into the basket she carried, "Surely, your sight is not so bad."

Charles felt his brow furrow as he continued to stare at her, but when she merely blinked at him, he knew he would gain no further help. Stifling an aggravated sigh, he once again looked over the crowds. The finery of court would have caught his attention, but he saw only fellow courtiers that fell into that role. Instead, he began to study every female with a predator-like intensity, all the while he could feel Kitty growing steadily more amused.

He was torn between storming off and demanding her assistance again when a voice chimed at Katerina's side, "Looking for your lost lamb still, Mr. Brandon?"

Katerina bit her lip as Charles's gaze swung around. Georgiana stood next to her with a perfectly innocent expression painting her mien, but that was momentarily lost to Charles as he took in her outfit. She was dressed not too dissimilarly from Katerina and bore no jewelry at all. Her skin was bare and her hair plaited neatly, her only accessory was a silk ribbon. Though a blossomed young woman, she looked every inch of her seventeen years at that moment.

Startled, he inclined his head as he barely remembered his manners, "Lady Georgiana... I almost didn't recognize you."

"I dare say you didn't." Georgiana replied lightly as she passed a parcel of fabric to Katerina, "Nor have you answered my question."

"No..., I supposed I haven't, milady." Charles agreed almost belatedly. He felt off-put and she... she was unsurprised by his presence, "I'm afraid that my lost lamb will remain lost."

Georgiana raised a brow, "How sad for you. Did you need Katerina for something Mr. Brandon? If not, we have more items to gather before the day grows too late."

Charles wasn't sure if Georgiana realized it, but a vague note of haughty disapproval tempered her tone. His lips twitched with a desire to smirk, but he held it at bay. It appeared that Kitty had divulged something of their tryst to the Lady – well that made things more difficult, "Actually, I was seeking your company, milady, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Georgiana tilted her head in acknowledgment, "Something may have been mentioned, though I fail to understand your interest."

Her sea-blue eyes glittered warily and a sense of familiarity washed over him as it had the previous two encounters that he had with the Lady. He swore he knew her and for a fleeting moment he wondered if she was his Charlotte, but her indifference to him had him reconsidering. His little virginal treat had been full of blushes and smothered giggles – he would be hard-pressed to pull those from the tauntingly affable woman before him. Still... it would be interesting to try.

"A beautiful young lady? New to court? I would be remiss not to take an interest." Charles answered genially and wasn't surprised when both women looked unimpressed. It brought a wicked smile to his lips.

"And that lady is engaged, as you well know, sir. Your interest is undue." Georgiana retorted primly and felt her mother beam with pride somewhere. She nearly gagged on her words, but she refused to let Brandon have anything that looked like the upper hand in this conversation. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that she knew he had already found others to warm his bed that pricked her nerve or the fact that the mischievous spark in his eye still sparked her interest. It now seemed intolerable that where he had once seemed dangerous and seductive, he now seemed cocksure and smarmy.

She was overcome with the desire to hit him.

Just once. If only to wipe the knowing smirk from his all too delectable lips.

"And where is your intended? Should he not be attending to you as a dutiful fiancé should?" Charles prodded lightly as he saw an opening in their little tête-à-tête. It was obvious to all that the engagement was arranged, this was no love match, and he sorely doubted that she wished to bed a man thrice her age.

A biting smirk answered him as Georgiana stepped away from Katerina's side and into his space, "As you know, Mr. Brandon, my fiancé holds an important station and has much to do. Though I'm sure his load would be lightened if his lessers performed their courtly duties with the same dedication that you seem to have in finding bedfellows."

A shocked bark of laughter tore from Charles's throat at her boldness, "Who said anything about bedfellows, Lady Georgiana? Surely, you don't think a man's - my interest is purely carnal? I wouldn't think a lady of your standing would have such indecent thoughts. I'm of a mind to demand an apology."

"An apology?" Georgiana proclaimed incredulously.

"For your indecorous assumptions to my character." Charles stated evenly as he turned a pointed stare to her companion, "No doubt influenced by other sources."

"Hardly, and do leave other sources out of this, sir." Georgiana retorted without missing a beat, "But please do tell, what were your saintly intentions?"

Despite her annoyed inflection, Charles could see that she was enjoying this strange battle of wills, and even more strange he was too. She was quick with her sharp words, but she hadn't strayed yet into recklessness. He wanted to push her there.

He allowed a patronizing smile as he answered, "Merely to offer my friendship and guidance, milady. Court can be quite daunting to those who have no experience."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him and Charles wondered how much further he could provoke her before she gave in to her irritation.

Yet, she showed a measure of control that he hadn't expected.

"How kind of you." Georgiana drawled before gesturing to Katerina to continue to the other stalls and stepping back herself. He frowned as she began to make her parting courtesies, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Brandon. The day grows long and I still have shopping to complete before supper."

"Truly? It looks more like you're running away, milady." Charles taunted and hid a pleased smirk when her back stiffened and she turned to him again.

Her eyes blazed at him as she imitated his mock politeness, "Running away? Oh no, sir, I'm merely letting a little lamb that I unwittingly snared free."

Amusement warred with outrage at her words. He had wanted her reckless, but now he was suddenly so very tempted to throw her over his knee or at the very least teach her to curb her tongue.

His smile turned sharp as he leered over her, "I am no lamb, lady."

"No." She agreed quietly as she registered how close they now stood to each other, "More a wolf in sheep's wool."

As if in agreement with her assessment, a low rumbling growl answered her words as he leant closer still, "I wouldn't bite...much."

His predatory gaze noted that she had begun to faintly tremble as he reached a gentle finger to brush along her cheek. Goosebumps painted her arms at his touch and the shuddering breath she took lighted a fire that traveled straight to his cock. But it was her greenish-blue eyes – eyes that shone with wariness and curiosity, also shone with heady desire. She wanted this. Good...the little minx wasn't nearly as unaffected as she would like to seem.

"I think." Georgiana started somewhat shakily as her soft hand wrapped over his, "I think you would devour me if given half the chance."

He let her pull his hand down from her face and studied her intently. He could see that she was on the edge, but if he pushed too hard then she would fall away from him rather than into him.

Quietly, he asked, "Would that be so bad, milady?"

Georgiana stared at him wide-eyed, "Maybe... it would be trouble. You certainly seem like trouble, Mr. Brandon."

"Careful, Lady, I may extract an apology from you yet."

"I-"

"Lady Georgiana!" Katerina called in the distance like a burst cork from a champagne bottle.

It yanked the couple back to the present and Charles could only watch as she slipped from his grasp.

She pulled her hand from his and he found that he missed its warmth, but he didn't follow after her as she slid back into the crowds like a lovely wraith. His dark blue eyes followed her as she scurried to Katerina's side and dared a timid glance over her shoulder to find him. Her curiosity, wariness, and desire still there, but now muted. His lust burrowed into his veins under that look and was not to be moved.

Yes... yes, he would devour her. The Lady really should know better than to run from a wolf.

       ༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺   ༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Lord Somerset."

Charles looked up from his paperwork and abruptly moved to stand for a bow at the sight of the Queen. He hadn't heard her approach and was mildly surprised to see none of her ladies attending her, "Your Majesty."

She smiled politely and gestured for him to stand properly, "I did not mean to intrude, my Lord."

Somerset frowned with a passing glance at the plans for a tournament that the King wanted to hold. Another costly waste of frivolity in the Chamberlain's opinion, but he was not one to oppose the whims of his monarch. Especially not one as temperamental as Henry. He shook his head gently and offered the Queen a rueful grimace, "Your presence is never an intrusion. Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"

"Yes, I am holding afternoon tea tomorrow with a few of the ladies of court. I would like it if Lady Georgiana were to attend." Katherine said simply with an expectant look, "It would benefit her to know her peers better, no?"

Somerset smiled at the Queen's graciousness. It would behoove Georgiana to become more familiar with the players at court. She would spend much of her time here in residence with him and having a few allies in place by the time of their wedding would allow for a smoother transition, "That sounds like a splendid idea, Your Majesty. I am to sup with the Stafford family this evening. I will pass along your invitation."

Katherine's smile turned a little more genuine, "I would be most grateful, Lord Somerset. I would have passed on the invitation myself, but it seems that Lady Georgiana is visiting the markets today. Preparing for the wedding, no doubt."

That surprised the Lord Chamberlain, Georgiana had shown only the minimal amount of interest on their impending marriage. Not that he blamed the poor girl, but he had been under the assumption that her mother would make the majority of the arrangements. His heart lightened slightly at the thought of her becoming more involved. It showed at least a cursory acceptance of her fate... He truly did need to spend more time with her.

Realizing that he hadn't answered the Queen, he smiled pleasantly, "I'm sure, ma'am. There is much to do before the month is out."

Katherine almost seemed to hesitate as she studied the Earl. She was not one to meddle in the affairs of court, unless those affairs somehow affected her and her family, but she would also be remiss not to speak plainly, "Yes, I can imagine. Lady Georgiana showed her grace and obedience well before my husband...but tell me, Lord Somerset, do you know if she is truly happy with this match?"

Charles was hardly surprised by her question, much like Henry he had seen her glimmer of disapproval at the marriage announcement, "In truth, your majesty, I do not know. I have only been presented with her grace and obedience, as well. She doesn't seem to have any objections."

"That is not the same as being content, my Lord." Katherine stated sagely, "She is young and still has much to learn of this world. I would like you to remember that."

A strange mix of chastened and vague amusement welled up in Somerset at the Queen's subtle lecture. A complacent expression crossed his features as he sought the words to placate her, "I shall, ma'am. My Elizabeth, God rest her, was a boon to me in many ways that I didn't expect of a wife. She was my friend. I hope for much the same from Georgiana."

Something softened in the Queen at his quiet confession. She nodded her head understanding, while she had barely known the late Lady Somerset, she had known of her integral role in her husband's work. Katherine could only hope that Henry would one day feel the same of her. Lately, the hopeful shine in the King's icy gaze had been replaced by resigned disappointment. She hated that look.

Drawing a breath, she decided her meddling in this particular affair was at an end, "I shall let you return to your work. Have a good night, my Lord."

"You as well, Your Majesty." Somerset intoned as he watched her sweep from the room.

He pondered for a brief moment over whether Georgiana could count the Queen as one of her courtly allies...

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