#I know it’s not always the thing to announce what you’re doing for Lent

[herbofgraceandpeace]

. 🤭🫠

[elthadriel]

writer ask meme: 13 + 29?

Hey!

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

It really depends on the length of the fic but I always do some. For shorter fics it's often bullet points of the beats I want to hit and the longer the fic the more in depth those will get. With very long stuff, <20k, the planning process is a whole thing. I make tables and charts breaking down thematic plot lines and how they relate to each other vs the driving plot.

I don't have a good one to share just now, but once I finish my big bang I might share the outline for it.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Have the opening 800 words from the Fox/Thorn fic that I started almost two years ago and just never seem to have the time to crawl back to.

-----

Thorn comm’d Fox about two minutes form his office, which was enough time for Fox to send a reply that Thorn would ignore, Fox to realise he was being ignored, send a second, ruder message that Thorn would also ignore, and finally resign himself to his fate.

The office wasn’t locked when Thorn arrived, and he let himself in.

“I brought you a present,” he announced, placing the bottle down on Fox’s desk, finding space between a stack of filmsi, two data pads, and five empty cups of caf. At least some of the caf looked like it had been sitting for a while and Fox hadn’t downed it all in the last couple of hours.

How much did Fox need to piss?

“You know, when a senior officer comms you, you are expected to read and obey them,” Fox drawled, somehow eyeing the bottle up suspiciously even through his helmet.

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t understand the message?” Thorn sat in the seat across from Fox, wondering if Fox would be genuinely annoyed if he put his boots up on Fox’s desk or just pretend to be.

“You’re right, this is my fault. I forget you were trained by Alpha-31. I’ll use smaller words next time. Is asshole still too long for you?” Fox hadn't put his work down, but he had lent back in his chair and Thorn could hear the smile in his voice even if it was hidden by his helmet.

“I don’t know, Sir, maybe if you attach a picture?”

Fox snorted and Thorn beamed. Success.

“Seriously though, the drink, Fox. I had to pull rank on a whole squad of troopers to get it for you.” All he’s actually said was that Fox might like the last remaining bottle and all competitors had abruptly lost interest; they were a good bunch.

“What is it?” Fox asked, still not reaching for it.

“Not a clue, some fruit based soda. It's very popular on [planet]. The senator’s nephew gave us a crate.”

“Uh huh.”

Thorn sighed, plenty loudly enough for Fox to hear.

Fox glanced back down at his datapad and there was no way Thorn was letting that fly. He popped the seal on his helmet and pulled it off, dumping it onto the ground by. Checking Fox had looked up again he pulled the tie from his hair letting it fall around his shoulders. It probably looked awful, it had been tied up all day and was still half holding that shape.

Fox didn’t move, except a slight lift of his head and Thorn wished he’d waited until Fox had removed his own helmet.

His hair was very much not regulation and if any other CG officer tried it Fox would hold them down to shave it off himself if he had too. Thorn worked his hands through the loose curls, trying to pull his hair back into a half decent shape.

“It’s against the regs for a member of the Guard to remove his helmet while on duty—“

“Not on duty,” Thorn pointed out.

“—Or otherwise representing the Guard including but not limited to wearing other pieces of his armour or in areas under CG jurisdiction.”

Thorn rolled his eyes, a big obvious motion. Fox never mentioned his hair length though.

“Report me if you want, I know the man in charge and he’s a little bitch,” Thorn said and, stars, he could picture exactly how Fox would be smirking at the challenge.

“Need me to come over there and spank you, Commander?”

Thorn’s mouth went a little dry. He wasn’t even into that shit.

“Big talk for a man too scared to drink a soda he hasn’t heard of,” Thorn said and decided Fox would probably only pretend to be annoyed and placed one boot and then the other up onto Fox’s desk.

Fox lent back in his chair, tossing his datapad onto his desk. Thorn tallied that up as his second win.

“Thorn, the last food you brought me gave the worst shits of my life, the time before that was, according to Prayers, literally poisonous,” Fox pointed out.

“I had both just fine,” Thorn said, “It’s not my fault your delicate constitution can’t handle anything with more flavour than a purple ration bar.”

“You know that excuse won’t hold up when your dragged in front of a tribunal for murdering a superior.”

“There’s just so few chances to advance my career, sir.”

Fox snorted and rolled his shoulders in a way that suggested he’d been sitting still for far too long.

“How was I supposed to know it would make you sick? They told me it was a delicacy.” Thorn had certainly enjoyed it.

“To [aliens], sure. To humans it’s a chance to explain to your medic that trusting you doesn’t require brain damage and regular stupidity will do the job just fine.”

[cinna-wanroll]

Choking On Your Thoughts and Feelings

You may read this fic on here, or on AO3 :)

The gloves became more than an accessory as the war began; they became a necessity. They lovingly compressed around the Jedi Master's hands, familiar and warm. They left no room for bruises and indents from his lightsaber-wielding, no room for the sting of cold air, and no room for the blaring anxieties spread from head to hand to touch. They were another shield he implemented carefully, another plate of armor carried off one battlefield and into a new one— a battlefield of words. Obi-Wan was exceptional with those. 

Since his early days in the crèche, Kenobi had been a skilled negotiator. His nature as a Force-sensitive empath made it so that as a youngling, the feelings of others reached out to tug at his oversized robes and trip him up. Despite the frustrating and sometimes painful hardships brought on by his connection, the one thing those sensations lent themselves to was his tongue. They were the fuel for utterances, discussions, pragmatic problem-solving, and moderation. His way with words grew with each hand he held, with each touch communicating sorrow, worry, or fear. He learned to lave them over with his remarks, urging his fellow initiates to lean on The Force when even masters couldn't quite soothe their temperament.

Later, he would marvel over the connection between physical sensation and emotional sentiment, the line between those blurred to a gradient in his mind. As a young man, however, he merely satisfied himself with the praise of his masters... for a time. After all, his younger self had been a mischievous ruffian, and no matter how eager he was for peace, trouble always seemed to find him. Or, as it was in some cases, he would find trouble. As he gained experience, he learned to use his words as a blade the same way he used his lightsaber as an extension of himself. He eventually developed his craft past the need for all the feelings that came before. So when the noise inside his head became too much, he slipped on a pair of gloves. 

Without them, he was bare. And hovering in the middle of a glittering room, buzzing with life, he was practically skinned. 

The senate had announced their banquet to celebrate a new planetary alliance with the Republic nearly a month in advance. And, of course, Obi-Wan was invited. He simply had to be there, because how could such a dashing man with such a gift for conversation not be at one of the most significant social events since the war's beginning? Obi-Wan felt sour as he stood uncertain, knowing he was there as a tool of manipulation. He was there for leverage and for show, more than anything else. 

He would've been alright to attend, granted one minor detail he hadn't anticipated being an issue until a few moments before the event: he would be allowed to wear his gloves. 

When he arrived at the upscale estate and reached the steps to greet the Chancellor and the representative of the Republic's new ally, he was pulled aside by Palpatine. The older man's hand hung just behind Kenobi's back, sweeping him to the side as he cast a patronizing look at the Jedi. 

"Why, Master Jedi," his tone was breathy, almost sweet, "surely you'll not want to insult so many people here?"

Obi-Wan blinked, "My apologies, Chancellor, but I'm afraid I've missed something." 

Palpatine tsked and swept his hand out from behind Kenobi's back to gesture at his hands. 

"Those. I understand if you're sensitive to disease, but I assure you, everyone at this function is healthy. I say it would be rather rude to leave them on, especially in such a... delicate situation. You see, some members here belong to cultures where wearing gloves would be seen as an outright offense, and we don't want anything causing a stir."

Obi-Wan would not argue, but if he could nudge the Chancellor to understand, he would do so. 

"My clothing choices have nothing to do with the cleanliness of anyone here. What I wear and do not wear is hardly anyone else's business. If someone has a problem, I will welcome any open expression of it, considering they approach me. However, to proceed comfortably, I'm afraid I must insist they remain on."

  They did not remain on. In the interest of the evening going as smoothly as possible, Obi-Wan stripped the Force-sensitive fabric off and left the gloves with a charming man that ushered him inside. 

He managed well enough on his own for a while, trading handshakes for polite nods and keeping his distance. Still, as the night dragged on, he began to feel tingly. Between all the dancing, drinking, and limited capacity, his space became something not his own. 

One Twi'lek woman shook his hand vigorously, her face flushed. 

IN-PERSON, AND DO YOU THINK THEY'LL NOTICE I HAVEN'T CHECKED IN? I THOUGHT HE'D BE TALLER. GOSH, HE DOESN'T SAY MUCH. THIS IS CRAZY. WHERES AK-URAME? WOAH SPINNING.

And behind that, more sinister feelings lurked, the nauseating combination of arrogance, desperation, and lies. She was afraid, she was running...

Minutes later, a person dressed more for a carnival than a formal event clapped him on the shoulder and expressed their admiration for his work. 

KRIFFING HELLS. DOESN'T ANYONE HERE HAVE MANNERS? OH, HE'S INTERESTING. THE MARKET TODAY IS SO ANNOYING. WHY DO I HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERY REPUBLICAN SNOB THEY HAVE JUST TO TALK TO THAT REPUGNANT BAG OF WRINKLES? HE WON'T SAY ANYTHING. FORCE, IS THIS CHILD OKAY?

Kenobi almost choked on their disgust and annoyance. They were searching for something, for someone they knew deep down they would never again find. Or maybe, find alive. They were hopeless, alone, out of time...

Obi-Wan was trembling through conversations, his head pounding as the room grew brighter and louder, when a man approached him, tapping a finger on his shoulder. 

"Excuse me," the man cut in. His mind was not quieter, but his tone was softer. 

I REALLY APPRECIATE—

Obi-Wan stretched his fingers to release tension and took a breath. Usually, he would surrender to The Force in situations like these, but The Force was proving a hostile environment at the moment. 

When the man lowered his arm, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and met his gaze with a smile.  

"Certainly, Senator—" he narrowed his eyes, trying to parse the man, with no such luck.

He trailed off lamely. He hardly had the energy to stand, for Force's sake. 

"Ah, not a senator, exactly, you see..."

The people he had been speaking with carried on their conversation without him. Behind him, a waiter bumped into his back, spilling champagne all over the floor. Someone shouted near a staircase, and someone brushed his hand as they passed to avoid slipping. 

FUCK ME, OF COURSE, RIGHT WHERE I WAS STANDING, ALL OVER THIS NEW SUIT, I'M ALREADY 10,000 CREDITS DEEP—

"So it'll be another five years—," the man said. 

Obi-Wan lost his hold on his breath as the room listed to the side, and he collapsed while the lights dimmed. In the darkness, people shifted, stepping away or towards him, pulling or tugging or shouting or trying to pick him up.

I THOUGHT JEDI COULD HOLD THEIR ALCOHOL BETTER THAN THIS.

HE LOOKS AWFUL.

WHY IS SHE EVEN TOUCHING HIM IF I JUST PUSH HER OUT OF THE WAY—

IS HE HAVING A SEIZURE?

Someone stepped on his fingers, and he nearly blacked out. 

THE—

ITS—

GET OUT—

MOVE—

WHAT—

HEY—

SICK—

UNPROFESSIONAL—

Sad, afraid, outraged, confused, disappointed, hurt, jealous, guilty, and more. 

Obi-Wan managed to get his hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut. His body felt electric, overcharged, and weak all at the same time. There was a sharpness to his thoughts he didn't recognize and a fuzziness padding the place between his temples and eyes. It was so much, too much. 

The cold floor provided no comfort until a steady force passed through the crowd. 

"Come on," it said, lifting him up with a gloved hand. 

Obi-Wan clung to the sensation of nothingness and followed it to an outdoor balcony. He caught his breath, but it did nothing for the aches and pains all over his body. 

Next to him, a familiar presence shifted, holding out two pieces of cloth. 

"I'm sorry about that, Obi-Wan."

Mace. 

He took the gloves and pulled them on, smiling weakly. 

"Not to worry. I'll be avoiding that Corellian brandy next time."

Windu shook his head, resting a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I've seen you after your outings with Knight Vos. You'll manage."

So he would, but not without a lingering glare cast at him from a certain Chancellor and not without flinching each time someone reached for him. 

[chorusfm]

Barely Civil

Recently I was able to schedule a Zoom call with one of my favorite up-and-coming emo bands in this scene, Barely Civil, who are gearing up for the release of their highly anticipated third LP. The record will be called I’d Say I’m Not Fine, and it was produced by Chris Tetti. In this interview, I asked the band members about the exciting new direction they took on this new LP, what they looked towards for inspiration, and much more. I’d Say I’m Not Fine will be available on March 22nd via Take This To Heart Records, and pre-orders are live. So thank you all for your time tonight. First of all, let’s talk about the lead single called “Coasting Mostly” which came out before the new album was announced. I think it is a great transition from what you guys have done in the past and then moving the needle forward in your music. So can you talk about how that one came together? CONNOR ERICKSON (HE/HIM): Yeah, that one came together very much in the way that all of our songs come together. We write everything very collaboratively. Nobody really comes to practice with question ideas. And “Coasting Mostly” was one of those that we were coming to the end of a pretty long practice, and Alex just kind of started playing the riff. And we kind of like to try and figure things out on the fly. And that one came together really, really quickly. It was one of the more natural tracks we had written. It was also one of the first tracks we’ve written for the new record. And so I think it really set the tone for how we wanted to approach this most recent record. It’s aggressive, punchy and loud. And I think we kept a lot of that same energy throughout the writing process, and I think this record has been shaped a lot by “Coasting Mostly.” And can you talk about the lyrical process of putting that track together? And also, if that was typical for how you do your lyric writing? CONNOR ERICKSON (HE/HIM): Yeah, so when it comes to lyric writing, I’m revising and reworking lyrics up until we track them. But “Coasting Mostly” was one where that first line of, “you feel so small, it almost feels like you’re not there at all,” that was one that came out when we, for Lent, that was the first thing that I said, when that riff was shown. And so, thinking about this sort of unreciprocated care that we put into everything we put it into the relationships we have, the acquaintances that we have, we put that same care into our jobs and into all these places that sort of hold power over us. And I think that sitting down and thinking about that, I really felt like this song…all of our songs have the same sense of sincerity and of truth to the moment. But that song was a culmination of emotions that I had been feeling for years. We had to, obviously, take a break when everybody else did for COVID. And the sort of pent up frustration and aggression, that came with losing your job, and losing the friendships that you have, and sort of trying to pick up those relationships, virtually over phone, and then try and figure out how to how to piece those back together, I started to feel like a lot of the people that I cared a lot for sort of stopped caring about me. And not in a way where I’m bitter about it, but in a way where it was just like, wow, this is the reality of the world we live in. People have moved past these friendships and moved past these moments. And so I really felt like I was getting a lot more care in a world that didn’t care how I was doing or didn’t care about how present I was at any given time. And yeah, so I think thematically that that was a really big driving force behind the rest of the record. I think it put me writing those lyrics out, and put me in a place of feeling confident again, feeling like, “Okay, I know where I am. I know where I want to be. I know, lyrically and musically, what I want to do.” So it was a confidence booster for me, and I think it was as sincere and as honest as we always are.  That’s awesome. I’m glad you kind of found your voice again… https://chorus.fm/features/interviews/barely-civil/

[moemoemammon]

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now! 

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d  think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."

[goodlucktai]

Could you write something about natsume getting a hug?? Just, from whoever n for whatever reason. I keep thinking about how no one ever really hugs him n it makes me sad

x

The absolute last person Joji expected to see today was Natsume Takashi.

Joji slows to a stop on the corner of the street, a block away from the train station, and stares shamelessly.

It's been a decade since the last time he saw Natsume, but he recognizes him immediately. Of course he does. His light hair and eyes aside, Joji has thought about him on-and-off since junior high.

Joji remembers that rainy day when he was thirteen, an empty desk in the middle of his eighth grade classroom, Ito leaning over in his chair to whisper, "Did you hear? Natsume was in the ER. He almost died. The police are looking at his foster parents."

It was as if he'd been plunged into a pool of ice water. He sat there, frozen, while their teacher called them to attention for homeroom and announced that Natsume wouldn't be in their class going forward.

What was the last thing Joji had said to him? "It's no wonder your parents didn't want you." Why the hell had he said that? A book, if he remembers right. He'd lent it to Natsume and Natsume gave it back all water-damaged, like he'd gone for a swim with his backpack on. Natsume's eyes were on his hands, on the ruined book, and he'd tried to apologize, said he'd pay for it, but Joji just snatched it away, ticked off.

"This is what I get for trying to help you, I guess. It's no wonder your parents didn't want you."

Joji is almost twenty-four now. He's going into pediatrics. His fiance, Sakura, is a foster parent. She is currently the proud and fiercely protective mother of two beautiful twin girls.

Sora and Miu are terrified of adults and they go everywhere together and sometimes they make up stories. Sometimes they lie, about why their uniforms are torn, why they're home late, why their lunchboxes are covered in dirt. They have this look in their eyes sometimes like they're just waiting to get hurt again.

Sakura has the patience of a saint. She never raises her voice. She stitches their torn uniforms, replaces their lunchboxes, and, on more than one occasion, has marched into their junior high school and threatened the staff with physical violence if her babies come home with bruises one more time.

Needless to say, Sora and Miu adore her. It took them longer to warm up to Joji, but they're there now; no longer flinching when he moves in their direction, greeting him happily when he comes over for breakfast, smiling shyly when he staggers into the apartment underneath the weight of two giant stuffed rabbits that cost nearly half his paycheck, because it's their birthday, Sakura, they need them.

Joji tries to imagine someone telling them "this is why your parents didn't want you" and goes absolutely breathless with rage.

Natsume glances up from his phone to look right at Joji, as if someone had pointed him out. Caught staring, Joji shuffles in place for a moment, and then squares his shoulders and heads over.

He's expecting the Natsume of his memory; he's expecting him to curl his shoulders and duck his head, the way Joji's girls still sometimes do when a stern auntie wants to talk to them.

He's not expecting Natsume to level him with a clear, politely confused gaze. He pockets his phone, and shoves his hands into the front pockets of the cardigan he's wearing; a size too big, like something he borrowed out of someone else's closet, but it's a charming look on him. He's dressed well, in dark-washed jeans and white high-top sneakers, and his silvery hair is long, probably long enough to fall past his shoulders if he didn't have it piled up in a bun. There's a squat calico cat at his feet, glaring up at Joji with judgmental green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Natsume asks kindly. His voice is a shock to the system; Joji remembers him like it was yesterday.

"Oh," Joji says, stymied. It never occurred to him that Natsume might not recognize him in turn. "Um, I'm Watanabe Joji. We were classmates in eighth grade."

"That's right," Natsume says with gratifying quickness. He looks a little embarrassed now and returns Joji's short bow. "Sorry, it's been a long time."

And we weren't exactly friends, he doesn't say, but that common knowledge sits neatly between them.

"Ten years!" Joji replies with some forced enthusiasm. "Is that why you're here?"

"Sorry?"

"The, ah, reunion this weekend? Ito, from our homeroom back then, put together a whole thing. Our whole class is getting together for dinner and drinks."

It occurs to him that Natsume might not have been invited. Joji thinks that's less because he isn't welcome and more because Ito almost certainly didn't have his contact information. The few times his name has come up, Joji's friends have gone quiet and melancholy. A few of them are parents now, or aunts and uncles at least. All of them know better than they did when they were mean, shitty little teenagers.

Joji opens his mouth to assure Natsume that they'd love to have him, but Natsume cuts him off with a laugh.

It's not a mean laugh. It's not unfriendly in the slightest. But it stings anyway, because Natsume is laughing out of pure disbelief.

"No, no," he says, waving a hand, "god, no. Could you imagine?" he adds, glancing down at the cat. The cat huffs, settling a little more solidly against Natsume's ankle. "We're just passing through, actually."

"We?" Joji asks dumbly. Did he mean himself and the cat?

It's Natsume's turn to get cut-off, this time by a long, drawn-out shout of "Takashiiii!"

A short, russet-haired young man around Joji's age comes barreling down the sidewalk toward them at a flat-out run. Joji's first inclination is one of alarm, but Natsume steps forward with his arms outstretched, and the stranger collides with him in an embrace that looks like it hurts.

Natsume is laughing again, but it's softer this time. It's the warmest sound Joji has ever heard him make.

"What's this for?" Natsume is saying, patting him on the back.

"Just missed you," his friend replies.

"You saw him twenty minutes ago, Satoru," comes the exasperated call from further down the road, and Joji glances over to find a small group headed their way, laden with shopping bags.

"Yeah, exactly," Satoru says, leaning back without letting go, just enough to gaze up at Natsume with a cheeky grin. "I'm all Takashi-deficient. It's pretty serious."

"Sounds serious," Natsume replies, and agreeably keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the rest of their group catches up.

A tall, dark-haired man stoops to pick up Natsume's cat, and it settles agreeably in the crook of his arm. The brown-eyed woman beside him lets out a coo, shifting all her bags to one hand so she has one free to scratch it behind the ears.

"We're being rude," the dark-haired man says in a soft, pleasant tone. "Who's this, Takashi?"

Natsume introduces Joji as an old classmate, giving absolutely none of their history away in tone or expression, but somehow all of his friends seem to clue in to something anyway. Their collective demeanor shifts, in an unidentifiable way, even if their polite smiles don't slip an inch as Takashi introduces each of them in turn.

All but Nishimura Satoru, still tucked up against Natsume's side, who gives Joji a positively poisonous look.

"Okay, Satchan, you're going to lose privileges if you can't be nice," Kitamoto says dryly, and extracts him from Natsume's person with a deftness that speaks of years of practice.

"Nooo," Nishimura says, but it's curbed quickly by Shibata shoving a bag at him and snapping, "Carry this! It's that stupid lucky cat statue you just had to have, and it's heavy!"

"It looks just like sensei! Tooru loves it, too!"

"I do," Taki admits.

It's a warm afternoon, right at the end of August, the sky turning golden with the beginnings of dusk. Joji still manages to feel cold.

He grew up, but Natsume did, too. He always regretted what he did, he always wondered if Natsume was okay, wherever he went, but Natsume hasn't seemed to spare him a second thought. He's got his own friends now; bright, kind people who look like they'd raise hell for him. Who run to meet him.

Joji missed the chance to have a place in Natsume's life. He's a footnote, now, and not a very good one.

"Jojojojo!"

The bright voices have him spinning around, forgetting everything else, and he lights up when he spots Sora and Miu waving at him from the other side of the street. Sakura has a firm hold on their jackets so they can't go spilling out into the street until the pedestrian crossing sign lights up, and then she releases them like a couple of eager hunting dogs.

Natsume's friends shuffle to one side politely, and Joji steps forward to catch his girls when they reach him. They're so beautiful and he missed them so much, this weekend they were away to visit Sakura's parents. He kisses them each on the head, and then kisses Sakura on the head in the name of fairness, and it makes all three of them laugh.

Taki coos just like she did with the cat, hands clasped together under her chin.

"What sweet girls!" she says. "Are they yours, Watanabe?"

"Yes," Joji says proudly, putting one arm around each of their shoulders. They've come so far, not hiding behind him from the group of strangers, even if they press into his sides shyly. "This is Miu, and this is Sora. We're adopting them."

Sakura shifts her weight imperceptibly, a barely-there tell. Waiting, he knows, for the surprise, or outright condemnation. She's dealt with a lot of bullshit for taking these kids in, from family and ex-friends and even total strangers. It rolls right off her, and she usually gives as good as she gets, but she hates when Sora and Miu have to hear it. They don't deserve to hear it.

Joji will have to explain it to her, later, why he brought it up. Why he knew it would be safe to bring it up in front of these strangers.

Sure enough, all their faces soften immediately, a gentle transformation. Natsume crouches, gazing at the twins with an expression that Joji remembers from his childhood. The delicate resilience, the willingness to reach out even if he got hurt.

The look on his face ten years ago when he handed back that ruined book, owning up to his mistake and trying to fix it, buying Joji a replacement even after Joji said something unthinking and cruel.

"I was adopted, too," he says.

"Really?" Sora asks quietly.

"Really," Natsume tells her. "My parents died when I was little. I wasn't an easy child to care for, even though it wasn't my fault, so I got passed around a lot. It took me a long time to find my place, but I found it. Did you find yours?"

"I think so," Sora says, glancing around Joji at her sister.

"Me, too," Miu adds.

Sakura clutches Joji's hand hard enough to bruise. She won't cry here and now, but he already knows it's going to be an ice-cream-for-dinner kind of night.

Natsume looks up to meet Joji's eyes when he says, "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

It's forgiveness. Joji hears it plain as day. He didn't get a chance to ask for it-- isn't sure he deserves it-- but there it is, freely given. And it's reassurance, too.

When Joji's daughters used to curl their shoulders and duck their heads, it would always tug at the memory of a boy he used to know, who was as kind as he was desperate for kindness.

Now, he thinks, when his girls are making a mess of the kitchen trying to follow a pancake recipe with their friends, or dragging a stray cat inside with big, hopeful eyes, it'll remind him of this afternoon. Natsume's clear, bright eyes, and the protective cluster of friends surrounding him.

The world wasn't fair to him; it left a mountain in his life that he had to climb, complete with all its pitfalls and crumbling paths and bad weather.

And here he is on the other side, goodness intact. Smiling. Loved.

He found his place. Sora and Miu found theirs.

And god, if that doesn't give Joji hope for everyone else.

"It was nice to see you," he says thickly, hoping Natsume hears his honesty. "Don't come to the reunion, that was-- a stupid thing to say, but-- would you-- dinner?"

Natsume hears it. He tilts his head, considering, and then says, "We missed our train, anyway."

"And I'm starving," Tanuma says agreeably. Clearly, he says it more to agree with Natsume than anything.

Nishimura is the hardest sell, watching Joji with hard eyes. But then his gaze dips to Sora and Miu, and all his sharp edges go soft, like butter melting in the sun. After a handful of tense seconds, he visibly gives up on his anger with a huff. His friends, watching patiently, all give absurd little cheers when it's clear he's on board.

"Fine, but if you live farther than three feet away, we're getting an Uber," Shibata threatens, rustling the shopping bags in his hands with annoyed fervor.

They drift in the direction of Joji's home, and Kitamoto talks Shibata down from the Uber with the promise of ducking into a 7-Eleven for ice creams instead, and Taki and Sakura are fast friends, rolling their sleeves up to compare tattoos-- Taki's is a strange, occult-looking circle that Joji makes a mental note to ask about-- and Tanuma lets Sora carry the fat cat, while Miu pets it with reverent fingers.

Natsume walks beside Joji, calm and unhurried, with Nishimura on his other side. He grew up with so much grace.

"Can I add you to the class groupchat?" he asks without thinking.

"Good luck with that," Nishimura butts in, not unkindly. "He's the most unreliable texter you've ever met. He left me on read for like two days once, and we live together."

"You'd have better luck with an email," Natsume says apologetically.

It's more than Joji thought he'd get; they exchange contact information, in the middle of this chaotic, noisy group making its way down the street toward the well-lit combini on the corner and then, beyond that, home.

Natsume doesn't seem to have any interest in reconnecting with his old classmates, and Joji doesn't blame him for that. Even though it will certainly piss Ito off to be kept in the dark, even just for a few days, Joji decides it's for the best.

Nishimura's goodwill can't be stretched that far.

[bibbawrites]

Teach Me How To Love - Reggie Peters x Reader (SMUT - 18+)

Request: Reggie being a virgin and the reader teases him like sitting on his lap and moving innocently or gently brushing their fingertips over his skin while whispering (appropriate or inappropriate) things in his ear and reggie wants to have sex with them but he does not know how to make this pleasant for both the reader and him so the reader kinda "teaches" him

Word Count: 664 words

Summary: best friend reggie asks for your help with him losing his virginity, and you’re more than happy to help

Warnings: swearing, sex (obviously), riding, mentions of drug use by teenagers

A/N: sorry this took so long but i literally had no inspiration for it at all so i decided to just do as much as i could and just post it cause i feel so guilty for taking so long sorry its not really what you requested but i hope you still enjoy it!

good news tho i might have a little bit of a surprise announcement coming in the next couple of days so keep your eyes peeled 

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ @carries-flynn @joynersgoatblog​ @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict​ @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

Being best friends with the boys from Sunset Curve was always an adventure. Most days you had no idea what to expect from them. 

Today was no different, with Reggie cornering you after a band practice, once Alex had left and Luke and Bobby had disappeared to “study”, which you all knew was just code for them smoking weed and making out for hours on Bobby’s roof. 

“I need to ask you something.” Reggie mumbled. You squeezed his hand.

“What’s up buttercup?” You asked, and he blushed slightly at the nickname.

“Can we go somewhere more private?” He questioned quietly, and you nodded.

“Of course we can. I know just the place.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind you until you reached your house. You led him into your backyard, stopping at the bottom of the tall tree in your yard, and looking up. Reggie followed your gaze, spotting the large-ish tree house half way up the tree.

You let go of his hand to climb the ladder, knowing that Reggie would follow, and in no time at all the two of you were curled into the bean bags that were in the tree house.

“This is my secret spot.” You admitted. “You’re the only one other than my dad who knows it’s here.”

“Thank you.” Reggie smiled softly, and you nodded.

“Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?” You questioned. He looked down at his hands, playing with his fingers.

“Promise me you won’t laugh?” His voice was soft. You reached out and took one of his hands.

“I promise.” You assured him. He was silent for a moment.  

“I’m a virgin.” He mumbled eventually. You frowned.

“That’s all?” You asked. He looked up at you.

“What do you mean that’s all? It’s embarrassing, especially since I know that you’re not. Luke and Alex have had sex. Hell, even Bobby has done it once and he’s asexual, so he doesn’t even like sex.” He ranted slightly. You squeezed his hand again, trying your best to comfort him.

“Reg, it’s literally not a big deal at all. You have plenty of time to have sex.”

“I want to have sex with you.” He blurted out. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You asked, wanting to make sure that you had heard him right. He bit his lip.

“I want to sleep with you. I want you to teach me everything.”

- 

“Are you okay? Remember if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” You told him, brushing a strand of sweaty hair out of Reggie’s eyes. He lent up, placing a soft kiss on your lips, an oddly intimate gesture for best friends.

“I want this.” He assured you. 

"You're positive?" You checked. He nodded. 

"Positive."

"Okay then." You reached for the condom that Reggie had brought with him, tearing the packet open and sliding it onto his dick, feeling him tense up at the feeling of your hand around his dick. 

“I’m gonna ride you.” You said, and he nodded. You moved slightly, sliding down onto his dick, almost moaning at the pleasure of him filling you up, ignoring the slight discomfort. 

“That feels so good.” Reggie gasped out. 

“We haven’t even started yet Reg.” You giggled. 

“Can we start then?” He pleaded and you didn’t answer, opting to lift yourself off his dick and slide back down again. 

You formed a steady rhythm, the only sound in the room the sounds of slapping skin and breathless pants, increasing in speed until eventually you both hit your peaks and orgasmed. 

“Thank you.” Reggie mumbled afterwards, his face pressed into your neck. You smiled softly. 

“You’re welcome Reg. Wanna go get high with Luke and Bobby?” You suggested and he sat up quickly, nodding. 

“Fuck yeah.” He grinned, scrambling for his clothes. You couldn’t help but smile watching him get dressed. 

You might not have romantic feelings for the bassist but boy could you get used to fucking around with him. 

[the-only-ace]

Hey I know you are really busy with all the request and job and all that but can you do shinee's reaction to s/o stealing their t-shirts and hoodies?? You can make them one shots of you want too😁

shinee reacts: their s/o wearing their clothes

heyyy~ i really liked this request because i personally love to do this. for this request, i want to try something new since you gave me an idea with the one-shots part. so instead of describing their reactions, i'll convey it in a form of a short story. it will still be per member! i hope you will like this one (heads up though, the posts is a bit longer than my usual shinee reacts) <3

p.s. if you guys can, kindly let me know if you like this kind of format for shinee reacts. thank you!

send in your requests here!

onew / jinki: you sighed for the nth time within just 10 short minutes. you were staring and pouting in front of your closet for you can't find the perfect clothes for your brunch date with onew. it was a hot day today and you just wanted to wear something cute but comfortable. however, it seems like your wardrobe doesn't offer that kind of outfit.

your eyes slowly traveled toward onew's part of the closet. his side was full of quirky graphic tees which you always find adorable. you don't usually borrow his clothes but you can't help but to take a peek at them and take the one that caught your eyes.

it was a white oversized shirt with a cute box cartoon drawn in front of it. you tried it on and it stopped perfectly on your thighs, making it look like a cute dress. surprisingly, it even matches the pair of sneakers you were wearing.

before you can even decide whether you were keeping it on or not, onew walked into your room. his hair a bit damp and he was only wearing a towel considering that he just took a shower.

"oh, is that my shirt?" he pointed at you.

"uh... yeah. do you mind? i just wanted to wear something that is yours." you sheepishly replied.

"no problem!" he beamed his big bright smile before proceeding to get his own outfit.

you muttered a thank you then went to your vanity to finish touching up your makeup. afterward, you grabbed your phone and wallet and placed them inside your shoulder bag.

"alright, I'm ready to go..." you trailed off as you saw what he looked like. "what the hell are you wearing, lee jinki?"

"your shirt?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly feigning ignorance.

he was wearing your favorite grey t-shirt and it looked pitiful on him, it was as if it can tear at any moment. it barely covered his abdomen and was stretched to its limit.

"no shit, sherlock." you facepalmed at his usual weirdness. "what i want to know is why... why are you wearing it?"

"i thought we were doing a thing wherein we wear each other's clothes." he shrugged as if his response should be expected.

"what? no! please have mercy on my shirt and put on your own clothes." you can't help but laugh at him as you pushed him back to the dresser.

"alright, alright! i just wanted to make you laugh and look, it worked perfectly." he playfully pinched the tip of your nose before taking off the top he borrowed. "also, you should keep that shirt since it looks a hundred--no, million--times better on you."

"thanks, love," you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a warm hug.

key / kibum:

after the long busy months, you were finally having a girl's night with your best friends. you stood in front of the full-length mirror in your room to give yourself a final check. your hair was styled into textured waves and your lips were colored with the boldest red lipstick you can find. your nude heels matched the little black dress you were wearing. your outfit looked almost perfect and you just knew what you were missing. you quickly snatched key's gold leather jacket and put it on. ah, perfection.

this was the norm for you. your boyfriend's wardrobe was beyond incredible especially his outerwear collection and you just had to wear them every chance you can get. to be honest, key was very stubborn in letting you borrow his clothes... at first. after all the compromising, begging, and crying you made, he eventually budged and gave up. of course, it does not come for free. he practically made you sign a contract that once you stained his clothes, you have to shoulder the bill of the laundry and the shop will be chosen by him. however, if you damaged or god forbid, lost his clothes, you have to replace them. you immediately said yes to all of the conditions in a heartbeat. so far you only paid for 2 incredulously expensive laundry bills.

now, you were finally ready to leave. you walked out of the bedroom and made your way down the living room. there, key was sitting on the couch watching one of his favorite tv series.

"I'll be going out now," you announced as you grab your car keys near the front door.

"hey, hey, hey!" key clicked his tongue upon seeing your clothes. he was now looking behind his shoulder and giving you a stink eye. "is that my jacket?"

"um... maybe?" you gave him an awkward smile.

"of course, it's mine." he shook his head disapprovingly. "only i can pull that off, by the way." he sassily added.

"wow, i didn't know the fashion police was here. you should have given me a head's up, babe ." you bit back with a scoff. the last time you checked, you looked damn fine in it.

"just stating facts, baby," he replied in english.

"alright, then why don't you take me shopping then? so you can buy me a new set of clothes that will satisfy your standards." you challenged and if he said yes, you were clearly the winner.

"excuse me, i do call you 'baby' but i am not your sugar daddy. go now, you'll be late." he shooed you off.

"okay bye," a playful smirk appeared on your face. "daddy."

this made key rolled his eyes before turning his back on you. he would very much rather ignore you if you keep on acting that way.

"it's bye now, for real." you giggled as you open the door. "love you!" you called out before stepping out.

"love you too, brat." key mumbled with a small smile.

minho:

winter was approaching and the air was slowly becoming colder than usual. it was the best time to stay in the comfort of your warm home and enjoy hot cocoa with your loved ones. a perfect time to wear your sweaters and hoodies indoors. however, this was not the case for minho for his favorite hoodie was missing.

"hey, babe?" he called out from the bedroom. "have you seen my black hoodie? the one with the white writings on it."

"what's that, i didn't hear you?" you went inside a few seconds later.

and there it was, his favorite hoodie being worn by his favorite person. you looked smaller while wearing it since it was way too big for you. the hem almost touched your knees and your whole arms were lost inside the sleeves. he can't help but smile at the sight.

"nothing, i was just looking for my hoodie but it looks like i found it." he gestured at the clothes you were wearing.

"oh, shoot. sorry, i didn't tell you that i borrowed it." you hit your forehead with your palm.

"it's okay. you're free to use them anytime, anyway." he patted the top of your head.

within the last few weeks, minho noticed that you sometimes wear his clothes. it was not a daily thing though and you even asked for his permission. slowly, it became every day and he would just be surprised to see you walking around the house parading his jackets and sweaters. he didn't mind it though, he was just curious about what you do to your own clothing. also, he hoped that he still had some remaining tops for himself during the cold season.

well, guess luck was not on his side.

his eyes were staring at his closet wherein there was only one jacket left, one. you followed his gaze and you promptly felt the warmth raised to your cheeks. you were surely red from embarrassment now. you were happily wearing his clothes that you didn't have the time to count how much was left.

"oh my god, i'm sorry! i didn't--" you cut yourself off as you watched him put on the lone jacket from his dresser. "i'm sorry, i didn't notice it. i just... can't help myself. your jackets are so comfortable and warm compare to mine." you tried to explain yourself. also not to mention that they all smelled just like him.

"don't worry about it." he reassured you as he placed his arm around your shoulder. "just be mindful next time. i might end up half-naked someday, you know."

"how can you be so sure that's not my goal?" you teased before sticking your tongue out.

he laughed at your silliness and then pressed a soft kiss on your warm forehead. you decided to make a cup of hot cocoa for him as a peace offering.

taemin:

it was past midnight and it was raining cats and dogs outside. you visited taemin in his apartment for a stay-at-home dinner date but a storm came before you can even go back home. taemin then convinced you to spend the night there instead. it was not a big deal anyway since you stayed over a lot of times already. you just didn't bring your sleepover bag with you and the dress you were wearing was definitely not comfortable to sleep on.

your caring boyfriend of course promised to ease your worries. the two of you shared a warm bath after dinner and he lent you his clothes for you to change to. so that was how you ended up on his couch, fighting off sleep because the show you both were watching always had a cliffhanger ending per episode. you two needed some answers before you can drift off to sleep peacefully. it was the weekend tomorrow anyway so staying up late won't hurt that much.

your head was laying on his lap while his right hand was playing on the locks of your hair and his left one was comfortably resting on the top of your hip. his hand would occasionally rub circles on the exposed skin. as much as you hate to move from your cozy spot, you had to or else you might end up dozing off right there and then. not to mention, him playing on your hair does not help at all.

you slowly got up from the sofa as you tried to stifled a yawn. "i'll just go get some cold drink." you pushed yourself up from your seat.

you then raised your arms and stretched with a satisfied groan. your shoulders and back were sore after laying down for more or less 3 hours. you can even hear your joints cracking from stretching out. also, you felt the shirt you were wearing raised up.

taemin's shirts were not overly huge for you whenever you wore them. the hem barely covered your behind and right now you were sure that a tiny portion of your buttcheeks was peeking through the white tee. you weren't conscious about it, taemin saw much more than that anyway.

suddenly, you felt a slap across your behind which made you freeze on your spot. you looked behind and saw your boyfriend confidently leaning on the couch with his legs crossed.

"did you just slap my butt?" you inquired.

"uh-huh," he nodded with a cocky grin. "want me to spank you again?"

you frowned a little as you processed the sudden change of mood. taemin won't deny it though, seeing you in his shirts always made his heart skip a bit and his breathing ragged. you always looked effortlessly sexy in them.

"sure, why not?" you replied wickedly after a few seconds of silence.

taemin processed your answer in a split second and he hastily grabbed you by the waist and threw you on his broad shoulders. he did not forget you give you another smack on the ass when he made his way toward the bedroom, the television was completely forgotten.

[buckyownsmylife]

Fast and Slow - Harry Styles smut

The one where your dom lent you to Harry and he’s very eager to have you.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (m), p in v, overstimulation, sex bench, sex fluids, cursing, bdsm, restraints, sharing kink?, Harry is a soft dom and calls you “little one” a lot.

A/N: Day 12 of kinktober and the prompts were being lent to another dom and “say my name + louder”. I’m actually really proud of this one because I managed to incorporate another prompt that I never thought I’d be able to use on my fics, so I guess this idea of doing kinktober to explore some kinks is really working for me. As always (for kinktober fics), unrevised because I literally just finished it and I’m already dead inside.

Harry’s P.O.V.

I did my best to close the door behind me making as little noise as possible. Still, I noticed by the way her muscles tensed up that she’d heard me approach, and the anticipation was visibly affecting her.

Clicking my tongue, I allowed myself this first moment to explore her naked body with my eyes as she remained knelt by the foot of the bed, her head lowered to avoid meeting my gaze. She’d followed my orders perfectly, as I’d come to expect by what her dom explained of her, and I could feel my cock already hardening on my pants, the only piece of clothing I still wore.

There was nothing I appreciated more than a good, obedient little girl. I already knew she’d be perfect for me. But I’d known that long before, the first time I laid my eyes on her, even. It was an immediate attraction, one that I couldn’t act on simply because she already belonged to someone else.

So when her dom announced that they were up to experiment with sharing, I was quick to jump on the opportunity to have her, at least for one night. “You really are beautiful, aren’t you?” I asked, running a single finger under her chin so I could raise her eyes to meet mine, and I lost my breath at that simple connection. 

She just had this thing about her, such sensuality seemed to lie just beneath the surface of her gaze. I felt it deep in my bones every time we were out for drinks and I had the hardest time trying to keep my hands to myself, trying to remember that she was with my friend. 

And as much as the outings proved difficult to me, I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Not when my friendship with her dom meant that I got to see her at least once a week. Not when it allowed me the chance of being here with her, in this situation.

Well, first things first, I knew we had communicated pretty extensively prior to this session, but I felt like I should run over the most basic rule once more. Even though all I wanted to do was to jam my cock in her pretty little throat.

“What’s your safe word?” I asked, still holding her jaw so she’d look me in the eyes and see just how seriously I actually took this. I thought I saw the shadow of a smile pass over her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and she was back to the picture perfect submissive front.

“Red for stopping, yellow for slowing down and three taps when I need to stop and can’t speak.” I did smile at her answer, satisfied at how thorough she’d been. It was clear too, by the way she ran over her words and the glint in her eye, that she was just as eager as I was to get this started.

I wouldn’t keep her waiting much longer. We did have only one night, after all. “Good job, little one.” I acknowledged as I straightened up, keeping my crotch on her eye level before nodding to her. “Take me off my trousers.” 

Her hands trembled slightly as she worked on my belt before going for the zipper, but it was clear by the way she bit on her lower lip that it was from excitement. I licked my lips at the prospect of the night that we had ahead of us, knowing she was right in getting anxious for it. I had a lot planned for us.

I watched with clear amusement as her breath bitched at the sight of my cock, almost hard already, and it was obvious that she was entranced by it. “Go ahead,” I signaled, once again nodding towards her. “Lick it. Give it a taste.”

She looked up at me with those bright, wide eyes and I had to bite on my inner cheek to contain a groan of desire that threatened to make its way into our one-person conversation. But then, she stuck out her tongue, running it over the length of my member and I was a goner, a loud moan escaping my lips.

I’d always been a vocal person in bed.

“Okay, stop. Hands behind your back. Open your mouth for me.” Her mouth fell open to obey my request easily, her tongue sticking out once more like she couldn’t get enough of my taste already. It was hard to keep the smile off my face, and I could see that she appreciated the sight of my dimples as she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Once, she’d been wine drunk in one of our friendly outings, and she admitted she thought they were extremely cute. I’d started to smile even more around her after that, always keeping an attentive eye to watch her fascination with my dimples whenever they appeared.

“‘M gonna fuck your face now, okay, love?” She nodded, mouth still open, eyes connected to mine. I had to chuckle at the pure image of compliant enthusiasm that she portrayed. I, too, couldn’t wait to have her mouth wrapped around my cock.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His hand curled around my nape and he pulled me to meet his member by it, the other one coming to cradle my cheek as he slowly penetrated my open mouth. The hiss he let out as he fed me inch by inch of his beautiful cock was like music to my ears. 

God, he was beautiful. I couldn’t believe he actually wanted to dom me and now here I was, with his cock halfway down my throat. I felt so unbelievably lucky, and even more incredibly horny. How could it be that he didn’t have a sub anymore? I would drop to my knees instantly, any time he asked me to.

I knew I should feel bad about thinking like that when it was only a loan - I was with another dom, I wouldn’t be with Harry again after tonight. But I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t how I felt. 

Specially when he threw his head back after I managed to swallow his entire length, his curls bouncing from the action and the sweetest little moans escaping from his beautiful pink lips. God, he was beautiful.

“Fuck, you’re precious,” he complimented, suddenly looking down at me with those incredible green eyes. A shiver ran down my spine at the connection, and the most predatory smirk painted his lips, making me whine around the cock on my lips. “Ready?” He asked, running his thumb over my cheekbones, his hands making my already hot face feel even warmer. When I managed to slightly nod, he did too, immediately pulling almost completely out of my mouth before thrusting back in.

The instinctive reaction to gag was undeniable, but despite the tears that immediately appeared on my eyes, I forced myself to breathe deeply through my nose and focus on the symphony that Harry was creating, with his moans and gasps and the wet sounds of gurgling and spit from his thrusts.

“You’re a little cockslut, aren’t you, sweetheart? So eager to please, I could see it in your eyes just how much you wanted my cock, huh?” I moaned around his member at the dirty words he so effortlessly threw around. I’d never thought Harry would be this vocal during sex, but god if it didn’t make me horny. In fact, I was so fucking wet that it was dripping down onto the floor of his bedroom, running down my thighs and ankles.

It was so damn filthy, and I loved every second of it. He pulled me by my hair so I could lick his balls while I gathered my breath, and I immediately put one in my mouth, rolling it before doing the same with the other. By the way he whined, I could see he loved it.

“Come back here, I wanna cum down your throat.” The prospect was one that I very much ached for, since my pussy was throbbing at the perspective. I didn’t even feel any hurt from the way he forcefully thrusted into my mouth before he started to roughly facefuck me, I was just too ecstatic about bringing him this much pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, love. I’m cumming.” I loved that he kept the same nickname that he usually called me in social situations. It had always made me feel tingly, but when he was filling my mouth with his warm liquid, it was a different experience entirely.

Harry’s P.O.V.

It took a lot of strength and control not to fall down on my knees after cumming on her lips. She made me weak, it was ridiculous and dangerous but I was already addicted to the feeling.

I took some minutes to catch my breath before offering my hand to help her up, and when she accepted it, I couldn’t help but to trail my eyes down her body, appreciating each inch of skin available for my gaze to explore. But there was another way in which I wanted to survey her body.

“Come here, little one.” I took her to the edge of the room where I’d prepared the sex bench, observing her reactions to see how she would take it. She didn’t look like she recognized it, but she also didn’t seem repelled by it, which I took as a win.

“I take it you haven’t used this before.” She nodded, glancing at me before averting her eyes. “You can look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.” The look of surprise she gave me left me with an unpleasant feeling. I knew it was common in bdsm, especially with more stricter doms, to train their subs so that they’re always visibly submissive. But the idea of someone missing the chance of having her beautiful eyes on them left me in despair. It left me feeling like she wasn’t properly appreciated, and that didn’t sit well with me at all.

“Are you comfortable with exploring this with me?” When she immediately nodded, an easy smile appeared on my lips, and I allowed her to see it flourish. “Then hop on it, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you spread open for my viewing pleasure.”

She bit her lip at my admission, and I helped her settle on the bench before strapping the restraints over her ankles and arms. Then, after a quick caress of her cheek, I assumed my position behind her, biting my own lip at the sight that welcomed me.

Her wetness was already dripping over her pussy lips, and I instinctively raised my hand to open her for me, checking her weeping hole before quickly plunging two fingers inside of her, making her gasp.

“You’re drenched, love.” She agreed with me, albeit a little breathlessly, and I chuckled before wrapping my lips around the two fingers that had been inside of her, tasting her wetness. She was so sweet, it tasted heavenly in my mouth.

Humming in appreciation, I collected some more of her juices before sticking my fingers inside of her again, this time in search of her sweet spot. When I heard her gasp again, I knew I’d reached my goal.

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” I asked, thrusting my fingers in and out of her, making sure to hit that special spongy place every time my digits were deep within her pussy.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I cried out at the feeling of Harry’s fingers inside of me, after spending so long with this burning arousal inside of me, taking care of him without being touched. He fucked me so furiously, it barely seemed like he retreated his fingers at all, and soon enough, I was cumming with his digits pressing inside that spot that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my legs spasming as I felt the urge to close them, stop him from continuing to stimulate me, but I couldn’t. Not when I was tied to this bench, vulnerable to whatever wish he wanted to express with my body.

I finally understood the reason for the chair.

When he didn’t stop thrusting his fingers in and out of me, another orgasm quickly rolled in, making me spasm against the leather seat, begging him for something - to keep fucking me or to stop, I couldn’t say. 

Still, it seemed like he knew just what I wanted to say, or at the very least, what I needed in that moment, because even though he didn’t remove his fingers - or even stopped moving whatsoever - he drastically slowed down the movement, opting to insert them in me at a snail’s pace.

“You like it here, don’t you?” He asked, clearly laughing at my agony, and if I could, I would have laughed too. “You know, I like having you here, like this, too. It’s been so long since I had a sub, I didn’t remember how much I missed it until I saw you knelt down by my bed.”

I was trying very hard to focus on what he was saying, but it was getting harder by the second, since despite the brutality of the last two orgasms he collected from me, the calm pace with which he kept on fucking me with my fingers was very quickly reigniting the fire of desire within me.

“Of course, it could just be you. You know, I had no idea you were into this kind of thing, when we met. If I’d known…” He didn’t continue, but I understood what he wanted to say nonetheless. If we’d known about this aspect of our personalities, perhaps I’d be his sub now.

The idea of being Harry’s, of having this every single day paired with the feeling of his digits still pressing against my sweet spot incited another release from me, and now I could hear just how wet I’d become.

“Feeling a tad overstimulated, love?” He teased, finally pulling his fingers from me and granting me some relief. I heard a sucking sound that brought shivers down my spine at the realisation that he had sucked my wetness from his digits, but before I could focus too much on that, I felt the blunt head of his cock against my hole, just slightly rubbing it in. 

“Think you can handle just one more orgasm? Wanna feel you clench around my cock, sweetheart. Think you can do this for me?” I don’t think I’d ever nodded as quickly for anything in my entire life, but I felt plenty compensated for my enthusiasm when I felt him pushing inside of me, stretching me open to accept his long cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he finally bottomed out, the position I was in due to the sex bench assuring that he was perfectly nested against my sweet spot and I think the sensation was overwhelming for him too, by the way he inadvertently jerked his hips, hitting my g-spot after he was finally completely in.

I didn’t think I could feel better than I felt in that moment, impaled on his cock, but that was before he started thrusting in and out of me. The overstimulation had my nerves on fire, every single one of my cells screaming out for me, as I was too, and then his voice pierced through my senses, begging me to say his name, scream his name, until I did just so, exactly when I felt that warm pit of arousal explode inside of me.

“Louder,” he ordered, his fingers burying themselves on the flesh of my ass, and I couldn’t disobey him. All I knew was his name, all I could do was to scream it from the top of my lungs, desperate to release some of the astounding sensations I felt travel through me.

Harry moaned my name when he came, too. It was the first thing I remember focusing on when I stopped hearing the beat of my own heart on my ears, followed suit by the feeling of his warm cum dripping from my abused pussy lips and running down my legs. 

He scooped some of it up, careful not to overwhelm me, before feeding it to me, and I was more than glad to wrap my lips around his fingers and suck them just how I’d done to his cock.

“You know…” He started after he’d released me and helped me put on a robe, and was now massaging some lotion on my wrists. He looked nervous, almost unsure of himself, and the idea made me curious. “Call me crazy all you want, we can pretend I never even asked it after you get out of here.”

He took a deep breath before continuing and I felt my heartbeat pick up as I realised what he could be about to ask. “Would you consider becoming mine? My sub, I mean? We can talk to…”

I interrupted him by throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulder as I buried my face on his neck. “I’d love to, Harry.” He didn’t immediately react, but then, I felt him reciprocate my hug before feeling his warm hands rubbing over my back.

“I’d love to too, sweetheart.”

[tpwkjerii]

strawberry kisses

you and felix have a longstanding tradition of baking the day after finals. usually, it’s the best method of relaxing after long hours of studying. unfortunately, you find yourself rather tense this time — after all, it’s always fun to spend an entire day in a cramped kitchen with your crush, isn’t it?

pairing: lee felix x reader

warnings: fluff and kissing, mild angst, reader likes strawberries (sorry if you’re allergic skdlsd), ex boyfriend (but supportive bestie) minho, reader has low self confidence :(, like two curse words, kisses!!

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda idiots to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: short fic for Felix hehe

Your eyes glazed over as you reviewed the last response of your final exam of the term. After two long hours of plugging equations you hardly understood into your nearly-dead calculator and speed-writing to the point where you’re sure you’ve bruised your dominant hand, you finally finished. At lightning speed, you gathered your exam papers and submitted them at the front with a quick prayer to the universe.

A few other students followed your rushed pace out of the large lecture hall, all of you eager to finally get out of the stuffy room.

As you stepped out of the packed hall and into the cooling outdoors, you checked your phone, which was filled with texts from the one person you were trying desperately to get out of your head (and miserably failing at that).

felix (strawberry head) <3

5:23 PM

did you finish your chem final ???

hyunjin and i just submitted our video for our dance performance

your editing was very good btw :D

5:35 PM

y/nnnnn you’re taking forever :(

we’re waiting at the quad for you !!

5:40 PM

*i am waiting at the quad for you

the others got too hungry and left, but i’m waiting for you!

pls hurry it’s cold :[

You bit back a laugh at his texts, his heartwarming tone filling you with a familiar fuzzy feeling. You pushed the feeling aside as you texted a reply.

y/n

5:43 PM

be there in 2 :D

You stifled a smile as you rushed towards the quad. Soon enough, you saw Felix and his bright, red-dyed hair (you first noted that it closely resembled a strawberry). The moment your eyes met his, you felt your heart skip a beat and heat spread across your face. This was the common reaction you’ve had for the past few months whenever you see Felix.

He rushed over to you with a giddy smile and his arms outstretched. Quickly, he barrelled into you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You took so long,” he whined, his chest vibrating as he spoke.

“I know, I know. ‘M sorry,” you responded, your voice slightly muffled by his shirt. You took a second to enjoy his hold and the comforting warmth that Felix always provided you whenever he was near. Over the past few years, you’ve grown accustomed to the scent of his sweet floral perfume, the feeling of his tight hugs, and the way he played with your fingers when he was bored.

All the things you were fond of were now extreme nuisances in your life. Not because they were annoying or because you disliked Felix, but rather the complete opposite; you were completely, helplessly, and foolishly in love with him.

“You ready to go?” Felix asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. He brought his arms down from around you, and you looked down at the ground as you nodded, hoping that he didn’t see the intense blush that was spreading from your face to your neck.

You are so fucked for tomorrow.

After an entire night of tossing and turning in anxiety, the next day finally arrived. To say you were nervous was a massive understatement.

The minute you woke up, you began to anxiously clean your apartment while your roommate Ryujin laughed at you. As you wiped down every visible crevice, she made sure to pester you about a “missed spot” or tempt you with sweets.

“You’ve never cleaned this much whenever Felix came over before,” she pointed out with a laugh while you wiped down the kitchen counters for the fourth time.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

Ryujin scoffed. “It is so obvious that you like Felix, there’s no point in lying to me,” she stated bluntly.

Your hand froze mid-wipe on the counter. You looked over at your blue-haired roommate nervously. “Is it really… that obvious?”

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

You winced and dropped your head onto the smooth stone countertop. “Do you think he’s noticed?” you moaned into your arms.

“If he hasn’t, I will personally pay for his glasses prescription.”

You whined again as you lifted your head up to look directly at Ryujin. “If he’s noticed then why hasn’t he said anything?”

She stood up as she answered, “Not sure but you could always ask him today.”

Your mouth dropped in horror at the suggestion. “I can’t tell him how I feel! That would completely ruin our friendship!”

“So you’d rather continue tip-toeing around him and never get a clear answer?” she questioned, her arms crossed.

“Yes.”

Ryujin sighed and started to collect her things. “You can do whatever you want,” she started as she placed her papers in her backpack, “but I recommend you tell him soon.” She stood up and headed for the door. Just before opening it and leaving you alone with your thoughts until Felix arrived, she turned around and said, “I won’t be home until late, have fun.” With that, she winked and walked out of your shared apartment.

You scoffed at her suggestive tone and stood upright to check the time.

10:08 AM

You gasped. Felix said he was going to arrive at 10:30, but knowing him he would be at least 15 minutes early, meaning you only had 7 minutes to get yourself together!

You cursed and rushed to your bedroom. Switching out of your wrinkled pajamas, you opted for a random hoodie you grabbed out of your closet and jeans. After you changed, you made a beeline for the bathroom and fixed your appearance. You quickly brushed through your hair and washed your face, hoping you removed all remnants of your restless sleep.

Just as you predicted, you heard four distinctive knocks on your front door right at 10:15.

“Coming!” you exclaimed as you rushed out of your bathroom.

Right before you opened the front door, you placed a hand on your beating heart and mumbled words of encouragement to yourself. Then, after deciding that you were probably taking too long, you pulled the door open.

Immediately, Felix, covered in a large hoodie and arms filled with large bags of baking ingredients, greeted you with a large grin. Like every other time, you felt your heart skip a beat when you made eye contact with him.

“Hi,” you said simply, a smile on your face.

“Hi,” he responded. He looked you up and down, asking, “Are you wearing my hoodie?” 

You paled and looked down at the large pink hoodie, immediately recognizing it as the one that Felix lent you almost one year ago when he dropped you off at the airport since you forgot yours in the car. Once you got back from your trip, you’d forgotten to give it back to him.

“O-oh,” you stuttered, looking down at the oversized sleeves. “I didn’t even realize,” you continued awkwardly. “You can ha -”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, the smile never leaving his face. He shrugged. “You look better in it anyways.”

Your mouth dropped and you found yourself unable to respond for a few moments. Felix laughed at your dumbfoundedness and gently pushed you aside to walk into the apartment. Once he set the bags down on the kitchen counters, you returned to your senses and closed the door to walk over to him.

“So, what are we making today?” you asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. It wasn’t an easy task to do, considering his proximity to you.

You held your breath as he grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes. “What’s your favorite fruit?” he asked excitedly.

“Er, strawberries?” you answered, tilting your head to the side in mild confusion.

At that, Felix let go of your hands and quickly pulled out a carton of fresh strawberries from one of the bags. You gasped in delight at the sight of the bright fruit and immediately thanked him.

“It’s no big deal,” he responded while sliding the fruits into the fridge. “I’m gonna eat most of the tarts and choco strawberries anyways,” he added with a sneaky laugh.

You scoffed. “You always say that but you always end up giving me the most.” You smirked at him while taking out the baking materials.

“I don’t give it to you,” he countered. “You steal them.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you told him with a sing-song tone. He laughed from your side, and you swore that you heard actual sparkles, as if he were a fairy, when he did.

You cleared your throat, hoping to rid your mind of distracting thoughts that could be potential problems during the next seven hours that Felix would be at your apartment. “So, master chef Felix,” you started, lowering your voice like a TV show announcer. “What are you going to do first?”

“Well, my fair announcer,” he began, holding up the silicon whisk like a microphone. “I think we should start with preparing the shortbread dough, what about you?”

“Ah, you are the chef. Lead the way,” you responded with a wide smile.

You both laughed together and actually began the baking. Like usual, Felix did most of the work while you played music and assisted from the side. You worked together seamlessly, and soon enough the shortbread cookies were done and strawberry jam cooling to the side.

While you taste-tested the jam, Felix began to whisk the melted chocolate, and you took this time to admire him. You stood at his side, allowing you to admire his side profile.

Felix was easily one of the most beautiful individuals you ever laid your eyes on. But his appearance wasn’t the only part you fell for — he was one of the few people whose inside beauty matched their outside beauty.

Felix was kind, funny, optimistic, and just about every positive adjective you could find in a dictionary. After every failed test, he was there with a cup of strawberry ice cream and a shoulder to cry on. When you landed your first job, he was there to celebrate with you even when your own family wasn’t. And when you and Minho mutually broke up, he was there to give you advice as you coped with the end of your first relationship.

How could you not fall for him?

And sometimes you had the feeling that he liked you back. The touches that would linger for just a few seconds too long, the soft smiles that Chan claimed he only ever gave to you, and his late-night texts all spurned a tiny hopeful fire in you that kept your crush alive.

No matter how many times you tried to get over him and convince yourself that your crush didn’t exist, the tiny voice in your head still spoke. “But what if he likes you back?”

Now, as Felix stood by your side with a soft smile on his face while he whisked the chocolate, that voice screamed louder than ever.

And just as you gained a sliver of courage, the same paralyzing thoughts that have held you back for the past few months returned.

Felix was out of your league in every way. He was social and easily commanded the attention of an entire room with so much as two words. His outward beauty matched his insides, and everyone on campus reached a collective agreement that if angels ever existed and walked among us — Lee Felix was certainly one of them.

And those things were only the tip of the iceberg that is Felix. He was talented, sensitive, supportive, passionate, and everything you could ever ask for and then some.

You then thought back to all the people he rejected - kindly, of course - and how you matched up to them. If Felix didn’t choose to go out with all those beautiful and talented people, what on Earth made you think you would choose you?

At this point, Felix picked up on your sudden silence and how your breaths grew heavy and uneven.

“Are you… alright?” he asked carefully, his own chest beating heavily.

You stared at him, panicked that he caught onto your apprehension. “Um…” you started, trailing off as you met his gaze.

Felix let go of the whisk and grabbed your hands. “You can say whatever you need to.”

“I uh,” you started after a few moments, internally battling yourself to gain courage as you realized that it’s now or never. “I kinda like you,” you admitted quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands anxiously. You waited for him to pull his hand away in disgust and start to kindly reject you like he did to all those other people, but it never came. After a few seconds, his hands still the entire time, you looked up at him with glassy eyes in confusion.

“What?” he finally said, his deep voice softer than ever.

You looked back down at your hands shamefully. “Do I really have to repeat it?” you asked weakly. “I like you, Felix. I have for the past few months and it’s been driving me insane because it feels like my heart’s about to stop dead whenever I see you and I can never think straight when you’re with me. Apparently, it’s been pretty obvious and I really tried my best to get over it so it wouldn’t hurt our friendship.

“Trust me, I really wanted to get over it but I couldn’t, and I know you don’t like me back so it’s ok. I can deal with it on my own and you can just leave a -”

“Y/N,” Felix said suddenly, his voice firm. You looked up, tears rolling down your face as you were sure that he was about to reject you.

“Felix please don’t interrupt me. At least let me finish what I have to say,” you pleaded softly, removing your hands from his.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his voice much gentler. He carefully wiped the tears from your face and took your hands into his again. “Can I say something before you finish?” he requested.

You choked back a sob as you nodded, certain that he was just going to let you down kindly.

“I like you too, Y/N,” he said shyly, a blush spreading across his freckled face.

Your entire body froze.

“I was too scared to admit it because I didn’t think you liked me back,” he continued, the words slowly registering in your mind. “To be honest, I thought you still liked Minho.”

You blushed at his words, thinking back to all the times you would pull Minho, your ex-boyfriend, to the side to talk about Felix these past few months. You didn’t realize how it must have looked to Felix or your other friends.

“I was also… afraid of ruining our friendship, so I’ve just kept it to myself the past two years.”

You gaped at him. “Two years?” you sputtered, causing him to laugh at the way your eyes widened comically. “That’s when we first started uni!”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I was instantly attracted to the way you fought Chan on why you should be allowed to keep the minifridge in your dorm,” he joked.

You blushed at the embarrassing memory, although it wasn’t completely regrettable as it was how you met most of your current friends — including Felix.

“I’m surprised,” you voiced simply. “I didn’t think you would ever like me back.” You breathed out, your muscles relaxing instantly.

Felix grinned again and he moved slowly to envelop you in his arms. He rested his hands on the small of your back and his head on the crook of your shoulder.

“Does this mean that I can take you out on a date?” he whispered.

“Will you promise to stop taking unflattering pictures of me and sending them to me in the middle of the night?” you asked, your head resting against his and arms around him.

He sighed. “Fine,” he answered reluctantly with a whine.

“Then sure,” you responded and pulled your head back to meet his eyes. His eyes shined from the sunlight pouring through the windows and his freckles glimmered like stars across a canvas. Felix was truly beautiful inside and out.

“You have some strawberry jam on your lip,” he said after a few silent moments where you both admired each other.

“Really?” you asked. Your hand moved from his back towards your face, but Felix caught your hand in midair and returned it to its original position.

“I’ll get it,” he murmured with a gentle smile before closing the distance between your lips.

You held your breath as he pressed his soft lips against yours. You instantly recognized the strawberry chapstick he uses and the taste of the shortbread cookies. He swiped his tongue against the corner of your lip, and the sudden sensation caused a shiver to run down your spine.

You brought your hand up to his hair and gently tugged at his dyed locks. Felix brought you closer to him and massaged your back as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, your face was burning red and you were completely breathless. Felix was smiling giddily, his arms still around yours.

“I think there’s still some jam left,” he told you, not even giving you a second to respond before he pressed his lips against yours once again. This kiss was much more playful than the last as you giggled against each other in the kiss.

“Did you get it all?” you asked him, your voice reduced to a murmur as he continued kissing your lips.

He hummed, kissing you once and twice in between, before responding, “I don’t think so.”

You laughed against his lips. “Well, I guess you better get it all. I can’t have strawberries stuck on my lips all day.”

He laughed with you, and true to his words, he eventually did get all the strawberry jam off (an extra two hours and an uncountable amount of kisses later).

[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 12: Lost

[prev] [next]

[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

warnings: mentions of sex

You and Kia prepare for your trip, waiting for Akaashi. He mentioned about picking you up since Bokuto lent him his car. You remember about the card Sakusa told you about.

You go to his room, making sure you don’t touch anything, and see that there are two bedside tables. You checked the one on the left first. You open the drawers and see boxes of condoms, some opened, some still new. You close it and go to the other table to get the card.

Something in you says to go check the other drawer again, but it would make you feel guilty. You hear Akaashi’s car honk so you go out instead. You take Kia from the couch and leave the house.

‘Did he date someone in the last 3 years?’ The thought is bothering you and Akaashi notices. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling. He carries Kia and puts  Kia in the safety seat of the car. He returns to the driver’s seat while you sit on the shotgun seat.

You continue to think about what you saw. You broke up. So what if he had a girlfriend? You have no right to dig in your nose into his business. Why are you so upset about him having sex with other women? He’s a grown man. He has his needs.

“You’re spacing out,” Akaashi points out. You shake the thoughts off your mind and stare out of the window. You groan, the thoughts coming back in again. “Spill it.” So you do. You tell him about what you saw. “Why are you so upset? So what if he had sex with someone? You broke up with him, remember?”

“Exactly why I’m bothered!” You cover your face with your hands in frustration.

“If you’re so bothered, why don’t you ask him about it later?” Akaashi suggests, his eyes on the road. You sigh, nodding.

You three arrive at the theme park and suddenly you feel at ease to be outside again. Kia starts running, but luckily, Akaashi has long legs. He easily keeps up with her. You make your way to the booth, while Akaashi carries Kia around to look at some figurines by the entrance.

After you successfully retrieve your reservation tickets, you enter the theme park. Despite being a weekday, it’s still packed with tourists. There are also students in uniforms, probably in a school trip.

“Mama! Look! Robot!” Kia points to the Bumblee Bee statue. Akaashi puts her down and she runs to the statue. The figure starts speaking and Kia’s mouth hangs wide open in amazement. “It talks! Mama! Keikei! It talks!”

You continue to walk around the theme park, stopping on shops and stalls from time to time. While Akaashi excuses himself to go the toilet, you see an ice cream food stall and Kia immediately asks you to buy some for her. You take her to the stall and carry her so she can choose a flavor.

“That would be 600 yen,” the shopkeeper tells you. You put Kia down to take money out of your wallet. You pay for the ice cream. The employee gives you the treat and when you look down, Kia isn’t by your side anymore. “Kia?”

You go around the stall, in hopes that Kia just took a look somewhere near. You search and search but you don’t see any sign of your daughter. Akaashi comes back and sees you getting antsy.

“Where’s Kia?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Take a good rest, boys. We’ll be back to practice next week. Enjoy your free time because we won’t be having any left after this. Cool down and you may leave,” the MSBY Black Jackals coach announces. The players thank him and say their good byes.

“Training ended earlier than I thought,” Atsumu sighs in relief. “I’m so excited to go home and be in the comfort of my bed.”

“Wanna go to the gym together this Saturday, Bokuto-san?” Hinata asks the older player as they start stretching.

“If I don’t have anything to do,” Bokuto replies.

“Isn’t Akaashi in town?” Sakusa speaks, stretching his wrists. Bokuto’s attention gets stuck on the other spiker’s wrists and he forgets to respond. “Hey.”

“Oh, yeah. Akaashi is in town. How’d you know?” Bokuto eyes the curly haired man in suspicion.

“(Y/N) told me. They’re in Universal today,” Sakusa explains.

“Omi, you’re okay with Kia going to crowded places that is surely full of other people’s germs?” The blonde questions, stretching his legs.

“Do you really think I expect her to grow up like me?” Sakusa rolls his eyes, stretching his back this time. “Germs can be washed away. They can get disinfected. It’s nothing compared to Kia’s upbringing. I don’t have plans to raise her to be clean, I want her to grow up to be someone who she wants to be.”

Atsumu smiles because of his teammate’s response. Not long ago, he would think of Kia as some sort of hindrance, but now he seems happy that she’s around. The blonde also noticed how Sakusa is gradually becoming more soft with his words and actions.

They finish stretching and go back to their dorms. Sakusa is packing his things when he suddenly feels anxious. He can’t think straight. He feels something bad is about to come. He opens his door and check the hallway. “Miya’s not here. If it’s not him, what could it be?”

Sakusa goes back into his room, hearing his phone ring. He sees Kia’s contact name and answers quickly.

“What is it Kia?”

“Kyo... I lost mama,” Kia cries on the other line.

That tone. That way she said it. The feel. It’s too similar with your words 3 years ago.

“Omi... Let’s break up.”

“What? Where are you right now?” Kiyoomi runs out of the dorms. Adrenaline kicking in as he hears Kia’s sobs.

“Why? Let’s talk about it. I’m coming over.”

“I see a dinosaur,” Kia responds, worry and panic in her voice.

“I just don’t see a future for us, Omi.”

“Don’t end the call, okay?” Kiyoomi says softly despite his worries. He hears Kia crying again. He starts his car and connects his phone to the bluetooth of his car. “Hey, stop crying. I’m on my way. Just stay wherever you are.” He doesn’t get respond so he speeds up his driving. “Kia? Baby?”

“Is it something I did? Tell me! Don’t just ignore me, (Y/N).”

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’m sorry, Sakusa. But I can’t do this anymore.”

Kiyoomi’s sports car has never been put into good use until now. He arrives in the theme park in top speed record. Luckily, there isn’t a queue on the booths so he gets a ticket promptly.

“Kia?” He puts his phone close to his ear, looking at the theme’s park map. “Are you still near the dinosaurs?”

“You’re joking, right? Tell me this is a prank.”

“Yes. Kia stayed here like you told me,” Kia responds, already calmed down. Kiyoomi rushes to the Jurassic Park area and looks for her in every corner. But Kia couldn’t explain her exact location well. He spots a kid and calls him.

“No. This isn’t a joke.”

“Have you seen this child?” He shows the back of his phone to the boy. The boy nods.

“Yes. She’s sitting near the entrance of the restaurant,” the boy answers. Before Kiyoomi could thank him, the boy recognizes him. “Aren’t you Sakusa Kiyoomi? I’m a big fan of your team!”

“Ah, thanks. Come to my next game, okay? I’ll give you a jersey.” Kiyoomi leaves him and goes to where the kid directed.

Kiyoomi spots her and his steps become bigger and his pace becomes faster. Kia sees him so she climbs down of the bench she is sitting on and runs to meet Kiyoomi halfway. He takes her into his arms, tightly hugging her. He feels her wrap her arms around him, and his heart starts breaking into pieces.

“(Y/N), I know you’re still in there. Whatever it is, let’s work it out,” Kiyoomi shouted from outside of your apartment’s door. He’s been sitting there for hours now. He leaned his back on your door, his knees close to his chest.

Did you really leave?

Were you not coming back?

There are a lot of words he had yet to tell you. He wanted to see you two accomplish your dreams together. He wanted to wake up and the first thing he sees is your face. He wanted to come home and receive your hugs as soon as he steps into the door. He wanted to see you walk down the aisle. He wanted to grow old with you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were all he wanted.

He regretted not hugging you tighter. He regretted not kissing you more. He regretted not spending a lot with you. If only he could do all those things one more time.

“I love you...” He cried. You always said those three words first. Why weren’t you responding?

He’s too late.

He had already lost you.

"Kyo, why are you crying?” Kia asks him, her small hands on his cheeks. She starts tearing up, sad that he’s crying. He doesn’t even know he’s crying. His thoughts is too full of fear and anxiety.

There are still a lot of lessons about life he wants to teach Kia. He wants to see her accomplish her dreams. He wants to drop her off to school. He wants to receive her hugs as he comes home from practice. He wants to see her fall in love with someone who loves her just as much as she does. He wants to see Kia grow. He wants her to see him as her father for the rest of her life.

He regrets not hugging her tight enough. He regrets not kissing her good morning and good night. He regrets not spending time with her. He regrets not being there from the start.

What if he was too late?

What if he didn’t answer her call?

What if he lost her?

“Kyo? Are you mad?” Kia’s lower lip is quivering, tears already coming out of her eyes.

“Kia..” he calls her. She pulls away from his hand and looks at him.

“Yes?” Kia’s voice is shaky. She’s afraid he’ll scold her. She promised to be a good girl. What if he hates her?

Kiyoomi takes a look at her face. He caresses her cheek with his thumb, then plants a kiss on her forehead.  ‘But I’m not too late this time. So I’ll make sure I won’t regret anything. I will never lose the two of you again.’

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Facts:

Most dinosaurs were vegetarian

Many dinosaurs had feathers

The longest dinosaur name is Micropachycephalosaurus

Small carnivore dinosaurs are most likely to be the smartest type of dinosaurs

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Taglist:  @elianetsantana aoi-turtle ptv-hades  aquzairus a-applepi  justoneofthefangirls arianna-r13 morenabambinii chaelysian loser-keiji mxngy ne-kuroo n1fangirlsblog d-efend missalicebaskerville marvelousbakugou @agaashesmilktea​ bonkyandloki kimi09  ntimacy @mkazuyuh  ushi-please minty-mangos-world @dearest-kiyoomi

[fanfic-archive]

Sober

Geralt X Female Reader

(Just want to say that I have posted this fic on a different platform as well so if you think you’ve read it before, I haven’t stolen it or anything 😂)

Summary: Geralt can't help but feel a pang of jealously whenever you and Jaskier get close. This evening, you tell him that he has no reason to worry.

Word Count: 2312

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence these days, sitting in a tavern and watching you and Jaskier talk and joke. It was tiresome, bothering Geralt in a way that he wasn't quite comfortable explaining or completely thinking about.

The three of you had returned to the little town after completing a contract. You had collected your reward and Geralt went to the inn to bathe, ridding himself of monster guts, while you and Jaskier agreed to meet him in the tavern afterwards.

After bathing, Geralt crossed the road and pushed opened the door of the tavern. He was used to the way voices lowered and gazes dropped when he entered a room, it didn't bother him. The less people interacting with him, the better. He spotted the two of you almost instantly, both of you already a few drinks in and laughing at a table in the corner.

Geralt headed to the bar, purchasing an ale before approaching the table you were sitting at.

"Geralt! You took your time. Though I can't imagine it's an easy task washing all that gore from your hair" Jaskier commented, the two of you looking up as the Witcher approached you both.

"But you're here now and that's what matters" you gave him a smile as he sat down opposite the two of you.

"Hmm" Geralt just nodded, his short response making you smile a little to yourself. It could be strangely endearing at times.

"Ah! Such a profound response, I do love when you bless us with your thoughts" Jaskier jested fondly.

"Oh ignore him...and cheer up. We have some extra coin, that's something to smile about" you reminded him, waving at Jaskier to playfully dismiss him.

"We won't if you keep on the drinks" Geralt hummed.

"Loosen up. We won't spend that much, we'll have enough left over" Jaskier assured him, but Geralt didn't seem convinced.

"Plus, we all deserve to treat ourselves. Especially you, monster-slayer" you attempted to convince him.

"Exactly. I earn the coin and you both spend it" Geralt commented. To anyone else it would appear that he was annoyed but both you and Jaskier knew that he was only joking.

"But you'd have it no other way" you winked.

The corner of Geralt's mouth tugged upwards but nobody that wasn't you or Jaskier would have even noticed, you both just knew him so well now and were able to notice the small things.

You lifted your drink up to your lips, only to find it empty. "Oh..." you frowned, looking into the empty tankard.

"Drink. You need more drink!" Jaskier told you, finding his own tankard empty as well. "To the bar!" he announced and you laughed as you both stood from the table.

Geralt watched, nose subtly scrunching up in distaste, as Jaskier placed his hand on the bottom of your back to guide you through the tavern. He didn't even notice how his grip on his own tankard tightened as he watched Jaskier lean towards you to speak in your ear, as you lent against the bar and waited for your drinks.

It was not the first time that Geralt had found himself beyond irritated by Jaskier's proximity to you.

The two of you were always chatting away about one thing or another, though Geralt couldn't really be mad about it since he took the role of the more silent companion. If he wanted you to speak with him more, he should have made more of an effort, he was aware of that.

The Witcher had also noticed that the two of you often got closer after a few drinks, leaning on each other, laughing about nothing in particular, sometimes even dancing if there was music playing. He understood that it was mostly harmless, you were just enjoying yourself, but it still created an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Whenever the three of you had a little more money than usual, they would get you your own room at the inn to give you some privacy, since Geralt figured that you didn't want to be trapped with the two of them 24/7. However, even then, Jaskier usually spent hours in your room with you before he returned to the one that he shared with Geralt.

He often tried to distract himself in those moments, tending to his swords or other equipment. Sometimes he wondered why Jaskier didn't just sleep in there with you but a larger part of him was grateful that he didn't, it gave Geralt a reason to question what was really happening on the other side of that wall. Then he would curse himself for even worrying about, it wasn't any of his business.

The rest of the evening went like that, you and Jaskier drinking more that you probably should. You were sitting on the chair beside the bard, his arm draped over the back of it, as Geralt watched with a tense glare. He would never say anything, you were the only friends he had, the only two people he found himself truly caring about, he wouldn't want to ruin your happiness over his own desires.

The three of you shared a few drinks and, as the conversation died down, Jaskier lent into your ear and whispered something that made your eyes widen slightly and your face turn pink.

You both jumped in surprise when Geralt's tankard hit the wooden table. "E-everything alright, Geralt?" you asked, still a little flustered.

"I think you two have had enough" he grunted.

"I can handle my drink just fine, thank you very much" Jaskier insisted with a contradictory slur in his voice.

"I'm cutting you both off" Geralt told you both, leaving no room for argument.

"Geralt-" Jaskier began to argue but you interrupted him.

"No, Jask, he's right" you sighed, placing your hand on his arm. "We have to save some money" you reminded him.

"Fine" Jaskier groaned dramatically, making you laugh.

You stood from your chair and swayed slightly, steadying yourself by holding onto the table. Jaskier did the same and you laughed at him again.

Geralt grunted to himself as he stood up, ushering you both out of the tavern.

You stumbled out of the door, nearly tripping over your feet. Luckily, Geralt's reflexes were always fast and he hooked an arm around your waist.

"Thanks" you just laughed at your own clumsiness.

Geralt released you once he placed you back on your feet properly, but you only stumbled again. Of course, he caught you around the waist again.

"I should have cut you off earlier" Geralt muttered as he steadied you on your feet again.

"I'm fine" you assured him but still lent into him for support. Jaskier was always a bad influence on you when it came to drinking, always bringing out a more outgoing side of you. "Help" you murmured with a small laugh, leaning into the Witcher some more.

Geralt sighed, considering his options before lifting you up, holding you in his arms bridal style. You had absolutely no complaints.

"Jaskier. This way" Geralt ordered when he noticed the bard walking in the wrong direction.

"Yeah, yeah, I know" Jaskier nodded as he turned around and started following the Witcher to the inn across the road.

Geralt led the bard into the inn and up to the two rooms he had rented earlier.

"That's ours" Geralt nodded towards one of the doors.

You shifted in his arms, looking over his shoulder to laugh at Jaskier as he fumbled with the door before managing to open it and disappearing inside. You continued to laugh as you buried your face in Geralt's shoulder, which he tried his best to ignore.

The Witcher just carried you into your room. "Are you mad at Jask?" you asked as you both entered the room.

Geralt was surprised and confused by your question but it didn't show on his face. "No" he answered simply as he placed you on the ground. You placed a hand on his arm as you steadied yourself, quickly becoming stable on your own feet.

"Yes, you are. I saw you glaring at him, why?" you asked but he didn't respond. "Geralt, we know you better than anyone. I mean, you're always glaring at people, but I can tell when you mean it or when you're just being intimidating" you reminded him as you stepped backwards, away from him. "So, why were you glaring at Jaskier?" you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to act stern but that just amused Geralt and you didn't miss the subtle upturn of his mouth.

"He had been drinking and getting a little close. I was just making sure you weren't uncomfortable" Geralt told you.

"Oh..." was all you said at first, surprised by his answer. "Well, thank you but...you don't need to worry about Jaskier" you chuckled, Jaskier was harmless and surely he knew that.

"Yes...the two of have been close recently. I suppose I shouldn't worry" Geralt nodded, his arms folding over his chest.

"...what do you mean?" your head tilted to the side, confused by what he was suggesting.

"You aren't...involved with each other?" Geralt asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Me and Jask?...no!" you laughed, dropping your arms to your sides. "Don't get me wrong, he's great but he's just my friend. I'm not interested in him like that and he isn't interested in me" you told him, shaking your head and still laughing slightly.

"I just assumed. He has been spending most of the night whispering in your ear" Geralt pointed out, he wasn't crazy for considering the possibility.

"What? Oh yeah but only because he's making fun of me. Teasing me about you, mostly" you huffed at the memory.

"About me?" Geralt questioned, head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

"Uh...I didn't mean to say that" you blushed, only intriguing the Witcher.

"But you said it" he prodded, deciding not to drop this topic. "What was he saying about me?" he asked.

"Gods Geralt, since when are you so talkative?" you asked, looking away shyly, unable to meet or hold his gaze.

"Well, what was he saying?" Geralt asked again.

"...he was just teasing me" you shrugged.

"About me?" Geralt cocked an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah...he just kept saying that you were watching us or just pointing out that I was looking at you. He always teases me about my feelings for you, telling me that you feel the same way even though that's absurd" you rambled, eyes widening when you heard yourself speak. "Ugh, I didn't mean that" you groaned as you brought your hands up to cover your face.

Geralt just watched you for a moment, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

He didn't like that you were hiding from him, even if he understood your embarrassment. So, he stepped towards you and wrapped his hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face.

"You have feelings for me?" Geralt asked, his brow furrowing slightly. He could hear your heartbeat quicken as you looked up at him.

You paused, searching his face for some sort of emotion but he rarely gave anything away, but you gave in and nodded.

"I wasn't sure if Jaskier had told you or not. He promised me that he wouldn't say anything but, well, you know how he can be" you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"He didn't mention it" Geralt told you.

"At least one of us can keep our mouth shut" you tried to joke but it felt like it fell flat.

"Hmm" was all that Geralt said and you were a little nervous that he was going back to humming and grunting rather than actually talking. That didn't seem like a good sign.

"Geralt?" you asked nervously. He never spoke but his hands were still holding your wrists. "Sorry" you murmured as he released them. You really didn't want this to mess up your friendship.

Geralt was silent as he scanned your face, his mind working overtime. He wasn't good at talking, that was obvious to everyone he met. He had spent so long believing that he didn't have feelings or that he wasn't supposed to have them that now he couldn't really talk about them at all.

"How drunk are you?" Geralt asked quietly, his question surprising you slightly.

"Pretty damn sober now, I won’t lie" you scoffed.

It turns out that the fear of the Witcher's reaction to you accidentally confessing your feelings for him is apparently very sobering.

Geralt just nodded before stepping closer to you. Placing his hand on the side of your neck, he shifted closer to you again. You watched him carefully with slightly widened eyes, your heart feeling like it was about to burst out of your chest. Was this really happening?

Then, the Witcher was leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You instantly returned his kiss despite your surprise, resting your hands against his chest. The kiss was surprisingly gently, his lips lingering against yours before he pulled away.

"...I'll see you in the morning. Get some rest" Geralt told you as he began to step away from you.

"Geralt" you stopped him by gently grabbing his arm, knowing that he could push you away with ease. "Stay" you requested quietly.

"You've been drinking" Geralt reminded you with a sigh, even though you felt almost sober by this point.

"Then you better not take advantage of me" you joked, tugging him back towards you. "Just stay" you pleaded, meeting his intense gaze,

"...fine" Geralt breathed and you could feel him relax under your hands. You smiled, leaning up to steal another quick kiss from the man.

That night Geralt learnt that he much preferred sleeping with you curled up against his side compared to listening to Jaskier ramble about the plans for his next song.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Fangs

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: so this piece can either be read as a oneshot or as a sort of sequel to “Get Me To Church”, but in a different style. Basically I got obsessed with the idea that the Outpost residents could stand up to Wilhemina and question her rules and you guys, the POTENTIAL FOR ANGST. As always, English isn’t my first language, so expect a few weird sentences. x

Word count: ~ 8 200

It started small. One morning Venable smiled at you for no reason and Coco saw it. Coco raised her eyebrows teasingly at you and poked your shoulder. Innocent, playful, amused.

You didn’t understand that smile at first, for it was so unlike Venable. It didn’t go with the rest of her. She was all sharp angles that scratched and made the skin bleed, rough edges, snarky comments, bites and claws. Not kind smiles shared in corridors. So you wondered, and Coco raised her eyebrows.

You couldn’t forget it, her smile. It haunted you, followed you like your shadow. It had been beautiful. You wanted so badly to see it again. So you tried making jokes when you knew she could hear them. Not-so-very-clever jokes, corny jokes, that made Andre and Kyle laugh but left Venable’s face completely blank. You stared at the floor and pinched your arm.

Then one evening when you were so, so bored, Andre and you danced to that silly song that played every day over and over like the reminder of a curse. He dipped you, and you laughed, and met Venable’s eyes. Her face was upside-down, but you saw it. That smile again. You recognized it at once because it bore none of her usual coldness and sarcasm. It was genuine. It was fond. It made your heart swell.

Probably there were a few surprised glances shared between the others. Maybe Coco raised her eyebrows again. You did a clumsy pirouette and took a bow as the song came to an end.

One morning Venable told you you looked good today. No sarcasm. No mockery. As if she genuinely meant it. Kyle was nearby, and he heard her. Perhaps he even saw the softness in her eyes. Perhaps he didn’t. But he heard her, and that was enough.

They were whispering when you walked into the music room. Coco gestured for you to sit next to her. She leaned over your shoulder and whispered into your ear, “Watch out, Y/N. We think she’s into you.” Gallant nodded solemnly and said, “Good luck. Scream if you need help. We’re a team. In this together. ”

The day after that was when things really did change. You snapped at Venable in front of the others. Actually snapped at her, questioned her rule about copulation, said the two Greys she had had shot for loving each other had not deserved death. Coco and Gallant looked truly impressed. They also stared at you as if it were the last time they were seeing you alive.  

You wondered that night whether you had given up on life the day the world ended. You waited for someone to come get you and shoot a bullet through your brain or throw you out of the Outpost. Nothing happened. So the next morning when you sat down for breakfast, the others fell silent. They stared at you. You stared at them. None of you really understood why you were still here. Then Gallant’s mouth opened, just a bit, as if he had realized something. He was about to speak when Venable walked into the room and announced you would now have board games nights. For fun.

That was her first mistake. Part of you knew it, even then, but that part was obliterated by the tidal wave of joy and hope and love that swelled inside you and crashed all over your heart, sprinkling fragments of light and fragments of shining blue everywhere.  

Andre snapped at her. Rose to his feet to confront her. No one had done it before but you, and you had gotten away with it. So why not him?

Something quaked slightly when Andre rose. You told yourself it was the ground. You knew you were wrong.

All Venable had to do was stand her ground and scowl for Andre to relent. He took a step back and lowered his head in defeat. And you saw the spark of victory in Venable’s eyes, saw the satisfaction and pride. You admired her. You feared her.  

Later that day you made small talk with her. Just to get to know her better. What did she like? What did she dream of? were questions you tried to smuggle in. You assumed a nonchalant expression and pretended to study your nails. You almost forgot what she had done to the two Greys when you met her eyes and sank into the black. It was black spattered with light, like stars in the night sky.

At one point you reached out with the intention of playfully poking her shoulder. But your hand froze midway, and you pursed your lips, pretended you had meant to sweep the dust off the arm of your chair.

“I do believe we should vote for our leader,” Gallant said one evening. “Aren’t we still a democracy?”

“I’m not sure we are,” Andre sneered.

“What the hell you guys, we’re not,” Coco stated.

“Well, as I said, we should vote for our leader,” Gallant repeated.

The idea wasn’t mentioned again for a few days, but it hid in the silence and the shade and never disappeared.

And you saw them scowl at Venable’s back. You heard them whisper to each other when she wasn’t there. Again, the ground quaked.

**

Late one evening, you were startled by a knock on your door. You were in your pajamas, and your hair was still wet from the shower, but you figured it must be Coco visiting you out of boredom. She was your friend, and you didn’t mind not looking your best with her.

It wasn’t Coco. It was Venable.

There was a very, very awkward moment as she ran her eyes up and down your body and you tried hard not to blush.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said eventually. Her face was completely blank.

“You’re not bothering me,” you mumbled. “I wasn’t doing anything at all.”

You couldn’t read her. You couldn’t see through her façade. Was she amused? Nervous? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and folded your arms on your chest.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open. What kind of question was that? Never in your time at the Outpost – months that had felt like years – had she ever taken the time or the trouble to ask any of the residents how they were doing. And now – first there had been her smile. Then the board games nights, trying to keep you all entertained. And that question.

Was she actually… trying to be nice?

Silence stretched as you processed her words, until she snapped defensively, “What?”

“Oh, uh.” You fumbled for the right words to say. “Fine, I’m doing fine.” You tried to laugh. “I mean, I’m very bored. Like, all the time. But everyone is. Except you, I guess,” you added uneasily. “Because you’re so busy running the place. And all that.”

“Is there anything you can think of that could help you pass the time?” she asked.

A make-out session would be nice, said a voice in your head. You glanced at her lips.

“Well,” you said,” I’ve run out of things to read. I did pack a few books before coming here, but not enough as it turns out.”

“I can help you with that. I’ve got quite a few of my own.”A pause. “You can borrow some. They’re in my room.”

“In your room?” you heard yourself repeat.

Venable nodded. You glanced at her lips again. When you met her eyes, you thought maybe they were a bit darker than before.

“Ok,” you breathed.

It was her second mistake, even though you didn’t realize it at the time. For Gallant saw you. Barefoot and in your pajamas, walking into Venable’s room. He saw how her hand almost brushed your back but didn’t, as if she were too afraid to touch. He saw her close the door behind you.

**

Venable lent you two books you had not yet read. You held them to your chest as if they were a treasure, not so much because of the escape they promised you, but because they were hers. Her fingers had touched those pages, her eyes had read those words. You opened one book and buried your nose in it, hoping her perfume had lingered on the paper.

You spent the next day reading and ignoring the other residents. Your head was buzzing with words by the time you made your way back to your room, so you didn’t see Venable coming from the other end of the corridor until she stopped mere inches from you.

Her gaze locked with yours. You were vaguely aware of the smile that bloomed on your face – a grin, really, that you could feel tugging at the corner of your lips. The world around you vanished. Venable titled her head on the side, and her mouth twisted as if she were holding back a smile of her own.

For a long moment none of you spoke. You just stood staring at each other as if waiting for something to happen, until Venable’s smile spilled on her lips and you thought you saw a faint blush adorn her cheeks. But maybe it was just the candlelight.  

“Hey,” you finally blurted out. You brought a hand up to your hair nervously. “Uh, I wanted to tell you – to thank you, really. For the books.”

Venable gave you a nod. “You’re welcome.”

“And also for the board games nights. They’re really fun. They help making those dreadful evenings, well, a bit less dreadful. Everyone loves them.” That was a lie. Coco and Andre hated board games nights, even more so as they had been Venable’s idea. Kyle and Ash didn’t care much for them, either. But they meant the world to you. They were the proof that somewhere deep behind the cruelty and the sarcasm, kindness lay shy and hesitant in Venable’s soul.

Silence, as you racked your brain for something else to say. You didn’t want her to go just yet.

“Uh, you know,” you eventually spoke, “I was thinking, if you want to borrow some of my own books while I have yours, well, I wouldn’t mind.”

Was this a stupid offer? It sounded stupid to you. You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I’d love that,” Venable answered. You looked up at her. She smiled, fond and kind. You melted.

“Okay, great, uh, okay,” you laughed nervously. “Okay.” A pause. “Uh, if you’d follow me?”

You led the way to your room and fumbled with your key for a while. As Venable walked in, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Your room wasn’t near as neat and tidy as hers. Clothes that had been carelessly taken off lay like dead bodies on the floor. Your bed wasn’t made.

Venable’s eyes scanned the room, but she refrained from making any comment. As she sat down on your bed, though, she automatically reached out to rearrange your pillows.

“You sure love to keep things in order,” you teased.

Venable hummed. “Order’s the only reason why we were able to make progress as a species. There’s nothing more valuable. That, and control. If you cannot control other people, they’ll destroy you.”

You frowned as you considered her words. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“Well, think it over. People are essentially rabid dogs. Loosen your grip on them and they’ll jump on you and tear off your throat.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no room for doubt. She looked up at you as if she thought she had just entrusted you with some secret universal truth, and she expected you to behave accordingly.

“I’m not sure I agree with that, either,” you replied.

She narrowed her eyes at you.”Well then, you’re a fool.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am. Or maybe one day you’ll allow yourself to trust someone, and you’ll realize trust and kindness are more efficient than control.”

You opened your wardrobe to avoid meeting her gaze. You could still feel it, though, leaving marks like burns on your face. Your books were in a suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe. You picked it up and set it on the bed.

“Here,” you said, still avoiding Venable’s eyes. “Make your choice.”

You sat down on the bed, keeping a safe distance between her and you. You let a moment pass before you dared glancing up at her. She was busy studying your books, not paying you the slightest attention. So you relaxed, and stared at her.

You wondered what she would look like in the sun. Would her eyes be of a lighter brown, her hair a brighter red? You wanted to see her against the blinding flickers of light on the sea waves, and what she looked like when she was staring up at the stars, or when she was lost in a storm with the wind messing up with her hair, her eyes bright, her cheeks red.

She glanced sideways, met your eyes. You immediately lowered your head and cleared your throat.

“You should take this one,” you said, nodding at the book she was holding – you had no idea which one it was. “It’s very good.”

“Oh, it is,” she answered – was that laughter you could hear in her voice? “The main character, what is he again, a surfer? And the descriptions of the sea are the most beautiful I’ve ever read.”

“I know, right? Unparalleled. So very poetic.”

Venable bit down on a smile as she raised the book to show you its cover. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. You almost burst out laughing.

“A surfer,” Venable smiled, shaking her head.

“Ok, you got me.” You turned your head away from her to hide your reddening cheeks. “I had no idea which book you were talking about.”

“Um. Seems you were staring at something else.”

Why was the room suddenly so hot? Had a demon just barged in and brought with him fires from Hell? Your face was burning.

“I actually really like it,” you said to change the subject. “The book, I mean.”

You risked another glance at her. She was flipping through the book, a dreamy smile on her face. It was the first time you were seeing her so relaxed. She looked almost at peace. And younger, freer and wiser, as if she had finally set down a heavy burden. Was this what she looked like when her walls were down?

You wanted to see her with her hair down and no make-up on.

She found a passage you had highlighted, read it, blinked, read it again out loud. “The way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear.” Her eyes met yours. “Who knew you were such a romantic,” she teased. Your eyes flicked to her lips.

She picked up another book – Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse – and flipped through it until she found another highlighted passage. “With stars in her eyes and veils in her hair, with cyclamen and wild violets…“She paused to glance to you. You leaned towards her. “Stepping through fields of flowers,” she read on, “and taking to the breast buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen; with the stars in her eyes and the wind in her hair.” Her voice had become a mere whisper. She ran her finger down the page, a gentle caress, as if it were a lover.  

After a moment she cleared her throat. “I think I’ll take this one,” she said.

“Very good choice,” you whispered.

She turned her head to look at you. And perhaps it was the wild violets. Perhaps it was her face, or how big her eyes were, as if they wished to suck up the whole world and you with it and perhaps you were a bit too eager to lose yourself in their depths. You leaned in, dropped a kiss on her lips like a flower.

It was short, merely a peck. It ended before you even knew it had begun. It lasted forever, made the stars fall from the sky, the oceans sweep over land. It irremediably shattered your heart and made it whole again.

You had absolutely no idea how Venable would react. You were half expecting a slap in the face. But instead she gripped your wrist and planted a sweet kiss on your lips. Like payback. It stole all the air from your lungs.

She pulled away, made as if to lean in again; hesitated, as one about to dive into the ocean from a cliff pulls up short at the very last second. Craving the fall, but too afraid the impact would hurt too much.

You chased after her with a “Trust me” falling from your lips, but she tilted her head away from you.

Venable let go of your wrist and sat up. She closed the book. One of her hands came up to play with her earring.

You drew in a shaky breath to try and clear your head. Your heart had gone mad and your body felt like it was about to dissolve into liquid and spill down the bed to form a pool of rosewater at her feet.

“Thank you,” Venable said, lifting the book. “I’ll take this one.”

You smiled. “Try not to fall too hard for Mrs Ramsay.”  

She hummed absentmindedly. Hand tugging at her earring. You held your breath.

“I should go,” she said eventually. She grabbed her cane and stood up.

At the door she paused. “I, uh,” she said. Her eyes when they found yours were hopeful. “Thank you,” she repeated. “For the book.”

You nodded, and grinned at her.

**

“Watch out, here comes the dragon,” Coco whispered as Venable entered the music room.

Everyone looked up at her, but you were the only one who dared meet her eyes. She gave you a small smile and walked towards Coco.

When she spoke, her voice was more amiable than you had ever heard it, but there was a strain to it, too, as if she were unable to fully hide her contempt. “How have you been adjusting to your new life at the Outpost?” she asked Coco.

That drew everyone’s attention. You frowned in surprise.

Coco stared at her. “Are you considering a new career as a therapist?” she retorted.

“It is part of my job to make sure everyone here is doing as well as they can,” Venable replied in the same amiable voice.

“Terrible,” Coco blurted out, “it’s been terrible. I’m starving to death, I’m so bored I’m losing all my wits, and if I don’t get to lie in the sun very soon my complexion will turn grey.” She paused to take a breath. “But you know what would make me happy? To wear normal clothes. And don’t you have more of that meat you cooked for us once? Oh and for the love of God, why don’t you let me orgasm one more time before I die?” Her voice oscillated between anger and sarcasm. When she stopped talking, her eyes widened a bit, as if she couldn’t quite believe her own boldness.

“None of those things are negotiable,” Venable answered, most of her amiability gone now.

Andre let out a mirthless laugh. “What a surprise,” he said bitterly.

“Those rules were made to ensure your survival,” Venable snapped.

In former days, her snapping would have been enough to drain the fight out of Andre. In former days, Venable only had had to glare for protest to die down. She was a born tyrant, Kyle had said once. Naturally gifted to instill fear in others.

But things were different now. She had been willing to show kindness. She had smiled at you and her smile had been genuine. She had loosened her grip, just slightly.

“Bullshit,” Andre growled. He stood up.

Something flicked across Venable’s face you had never seen before. Something that looked exactly like fear. Andre saw it.

He took a step towards her and raised his voice.”I think those rules are bullshit. And I think you know it. Why should we follow them if you don’t? Gallant saw you,” he spat out. ”He saw you open your door to your little pet the other night.”

For a moment there was only silence. You leaned back into your seat, trying to make yourself as small as possible. And then Venable raised her left hand and slapped Andre in the face. Hard. The sound echoed off the walls.

Andre stumbled back and deflated. But he had set an example, and the others were only too eager to pick up the torch. As a line of soldiers advances when the first has succumbed, Ash spoke out.

“Why don’t you come to my room and spend the night, Kyle?” she said, proud and confident.

“Now you guys, wait a minute,” you heard yourself say, “we didn’t –“

“I’d be delighted,” Kyle cut you off. He grabbed Ash’s hand and bent to kiss her knuckles.  

“Andre, my bed’s all yours,” Gallant said in a singsong.

Coco let out a loud laugh. “Party night!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Let’s all be disgusting sinners tonight!”

Venable tapped her cane on the floor. Loud. Threatening. Coco stiffened and fell silent. And Venable almost smiled, because she still had so much power over them, so much control, and she would be damned before she let it slip through her fingers –

Gallant charged at Venable with his hands clenched into fists as if he meant to hit her. He had almost reached her when he changed his mind, stopped dead in his tracks, and scurried away from her. But his voice thundered, “What are you gonna do, uh? Shoot me? I’m royalty! I’m wearing fucking purple, babydoll!” He opened his arms and grinned like a mad man. “And anyway we outnumber you, bitch! Don’t you ever fucking forget that!”

And with that he left the room.

The others scowled at Venable for a few seconds before they, too, one by one, got up and left. Coco stopped in the doorway and turned. “Come on, Y/N,” she called.

You met Venable’s eyes. They were as unreadable as ever. You waited, hoping for something, some emotion, that would give you a reason to stay. But she merely glared at you, standing tall and confident as if nothing had happened. Just the way she had looked when she had sentenced those two Greys to death.

You lowered your gaze, stood up, and followed Coco out of the room.

**

“What the hell just happened?” Coco laughed nervously.

Gallant was jumping up and down like an excited child. “The end of an era!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

You stared at them. They were your friends. You were a team, in this together. Coco draped an arm around your shoulders and grinned at you.

“Man, that felt good,” you heard Gallant said. He shook his head and shoulders as a dog does to get dry.

A team, you reminded yourself. You were in this together. You gave Coco’s hand a squeeze.

**

“We’re going to hold an election.”

Venable raised her eyebrows contemptuously.”An election?” she repeated, as if it were the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard.

Gallant nodded. “A vote. To choose who will lead us.”

Venable let out a short, incredulous laugh. Her eyes went from one face to the other. “Excuse-me,” she scoffed, “you must have gone mad, or else I didn’t hear you correctly.”

“We’re holding an election,” Gallant enunciated, “to choose who will lead us.”

Venable’s face hardened. “No you’re not,” she said.

“Try us,” Gallant growled.

“And how exactly are you going to run this place without knowing anything about the Cooperative’s plans?”Venable sneered.

“We’ll figure things out. We’ll be better at it than you ever were.”

“My work here has been more than excellent,” Venable snapped. “It’s the only reason why you’re still alive.”

“Tell that to Stu,” Andre interrupted. “And to those two poor Greys you killed.”

Venable’s eyes flicked to you, almost questioningly, as if she were asking for advice. You were too ashamed to hold her gaze. You stared down at the floor.

When Venable spoke again, her voice dripped with the same strained amiability she had used when addressing Coco the day before. “If you’d like, I could go over my reasons for such a punishment.”

Andre let out a low growl, baring his teeth. Venable didn’t flinch, didn’t let out the slightest sign of alarm; but you did, because you knew what she was doing, and you knew it would fail. You were the one who’d told her to try. Be kind. Trust in other people’s kindness.  

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you had time to let out more than one word, Andre barked at Venable. “We will hold an election. Tomorrow, in this very room. And you will be held accountable for the three people you ruthlessly murdered.”

“Soon to be four, you can count on that,” Venable spat back.

She was brave, you had to give her that. She glared right into Andre’s eyes as he yelled at her and frothed at the mouth, and Coco and Gallant and the others closed in on her like a pack of wolves. She didn’t blink, didn’t falter, didn’t seem the least bit scared. She simply waited for their wrath to subside, for the jaws to slacken and the muscles to relax.      

It did subside. It always does. Andre stood panting at a loss for words, and Venable tapped her cane on the floor.

“Is your pitiful tantrum over?” she gibed. She took a step forward, and he leaned away from her.”Now you hear me out. There will be no election. You wouldn’t last a day without my management and deep down in that useless, childish brain of yours you know it.” Venable smirked. “Now back off.”

Andre hesitated, clenched his teeth, took a few steps back. Venable’s eyes swept the room contemptuously. Her gaze lingered on your face a second too long. Those were the same eyes that had smiled at you and sparkled with stars and softened at the mention of cyclamen and wild violets. Now they were pitch black and so frighteningly cold.

Contradictory feelings were waging war on each other in your head. Too many successive victories and defeats, Guilt crowned winner and the second after stabbed to death by Anger who was immediately dethroned by Love, betrayed by Fear banished by Regret with the help of Guilt murdered by – it was too much. You could have banged your head on the walls and painted them red with your blood.    

You prayed for numbness. You walked down a corridor, up a staircase, down another corridor, completely oblivious to your surroundings. Andre and the other residents would not relent, you were certain of that. But neither would Venable, and she had half a dozen armed minions under her control. But what if the Purples asked the Greys for help? A few words and promises exchanged behind a closed door would be enough to constitute an army. Guns wouldn’t matter, then. As Gallant had said, Venable and the guards would be greatly outnumbered and easily overthrown.

And what were you to do? You didn’t like Venable’s rules, didn’t think they were fair but you had seen her. Caught a glimpse of her and loved what you had seen and knew you would never tire of it just as you’d never tire of sunsets. There wasn’t a single universe in which you’d be okay with her getting hurt.      

Someone grabbed your shoulder and shoved you against the wall. You winced in pain, tried to push them away, but an elbow dug into your collarbone and kept you in place.

“Why, hello there,” Venable hissed in your face.

“What the –“

“Are you and your little friends having fun?” She gave you another shove, and your shoulders slammed into the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” you cried out.

“Good,” Venable snarled, but her grip on you loosened.

You met her eyes, shivered at the anger you saw burning in them. Fear washed over you, but was soon replaced by something else, something much worse – guilt.

“Look,” you mumbled, “I –“

“I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question,” Venable growled. “Are you and your friends having fun?”

You fumbled for words, tears springing to your eyes. “I’m not – I didn’t –“

“You didn’t what?” she snapped, cruelty ringing loud in her voice. “Think? Meant for anything bad to happen? Aren’t you the most feeble-minded moron I ever had the displeasure to meet!”

She waited for an answer, but you couldn’t give her one. Your tongue was too thick, your mouth too dry.

“Damn it Y/N this is all your fault!” Venable cried. And this time there was no cruelty. This time you heard her voice waver, and saw the fear spill into her eyes.

It felt like the floor had vanished from under your feet. Without Venable’s grip on your shirt you would have collapsed.    

“I know,” you whispered brokenly, tears dropping from your eyes. “I’m so sor –“

“Oh, Ms Venable,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, “you should really try and be kind. Oh, Ms Venable, trust me Ms Venable.” She gave you another push, but it was weak. “Well I fucking did and you walked out of that room with them!”

Her voice broke. It seemed to surprise her, for she recoiled and winced. And then her emotions were back under control, eyes hard and cold, voice colder still.

“As it turned out I was right,” she snapped. “Show kindness and the dogs come barking.”

You shook your head, let out a sob. Please no. You hadn’t wanted any of this, hadn’t meant to hurt her, to put her in danger. You’d encouraged her to put down her sharpest sword, her largest shield – and she had been willing to try, only to see her efforts backfire and blow up in her face. And you – you had walked away. You had left her to deal with the aftermath. You had irremediably broken the hope that’d shone in her eyes the day you had dropped a kiss on her lips.

You had no idea how to make things right again. And why on Earth was she even taking the trouble to talk to you? Why hadn’t she had you shot yet, made sure to get rid of you for good? Why had she ever smiled at you?

You wanted to hug her. To wrap her up in your arms nice and tight, kiss her cheek, promise her you’d keep her safe. You would wish it with all you had so it would have to come true. She would hear the honesty and the love in your voice and everything would be alright.

You couldn’t see very well through your tears, but it seemed to you her arm twitched, as if she wanted to reach out, as if she, too, was craving touch. She bit her lip, and looked away, and her eyes were too watery so you lifted your hand to stroke her cheek. Her breath hitched and she batted your hand away, her fingers slamming into yours.  

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, a quaver in her voice; her eyes looking everywhere but at you, her shoulders bending, and you tried to reach out again so she gave you another shove, and another, and another until she let out a noise like an angry, broken cry, leaned in and pressed her forehead against your chest.  

She gave in for three seconds, maybe five. Then she sighed and pulled back, and you were left with only a memory of her warmth and scent, your hand up where her head had been but your fingers threading through nothing but air.  

**

You tried to sleep that night but couldn’t. At one point you dozed off, and when you opened your eyes next your body was covered with sweat and your heart was beating too fast. You tried reading one of the books Venable had lent you. Five minutes later you were curled up in a tight ball and crying your eyes out.

The morning after you met with the other residents in the music room. Gallant was in a very good mood. Ash and Kyle were exchanging suggestive glances. You thought maybe Coco told you a story about something that had happened to her in her youth. Maybe you had half a food cube for breakfast. Then at one point Gallant raised both his arms and said something about voting. He had barely finished talking when Venable sauntered into the room and someone gasped, and then someone else shouted in alarm and you didn’t understand why until you saw the gun in Venable’s hand.

And her eyes were piercing, and her face was completely blank, and her hand wasn’t shaking when she pointed the gun at Gallant’s head.

But that’s not what happened. It couldn’t be, could it? Rewind.

Coco had stopped in the doorway and called after you. You had pretended not to hear. When she had called again, you’d stood up and planted yourself defiantly beside Venable. And Coco hadn’t even looked that surprised.

That night Venable had kissed you again, longer, bolder, giggling into your mouth. You had seen her with her hair down and no make-up on. In the morning she had counted the freckles on your shoulders. And you two had lain in bed staring into each other’s eyes, that beautiful, fond smile of hers creeping up her lips over and over again.

Better, so much better. Please, rewind.

Venable – Wilhemina now, Mina, darling – had made peace with the other residents. She had agreed to make some of her rules more flexible, and they had renounced holding the election. Coco had given you a pat on the shoulder, for she was your friend. You were a team, in this together. Venable had reached out for your hand, laced your fingers together.

The colours drained from Gallant’s face. He took a step back and held out his hands.

“What the fuck is going on?” Coco cried out. She made to scurry away, but she bumped against a chair and grabbed hold of your arm to steady herself. Her grip brought you back to the present.

“Wow wow wow, hold on,” Andre shouted.

“Ms Venable”, you heard yourself say.

She didn’t seem to hear any of you.

“Ms Venable,” you repeated. (Wilhemina, Mina, darling)

Venable blinked and looked at you, her gaze surprisingly calm and confident. You held out your hands and took one step towards her. “Please,” you begged – your hands were shaking – “please, put the gun down.”

Venable redirected her attention to Gallant. He whimpered, and Venable smirked.

“Ms Venable, put the gun down,” you tried again. She ignored you. “Wilhemina, please.”

Her eyes met yours, and you saw part of her resolve falter, but then her face hardened again as if to say, If I do, what then? This, is not a gun but the last rope tying me to safety. This is me holding control back before it runs away and hides where I can’t reach it. Would a shipwrecked sailor puncture their own lifebuoy to drown in the sea? And pray, she asked you, what do I have to lose if I pull the trigger? It’d be nothing compared to what would happen if I don’t. Safety would be ripped from me, safety not only from physical harm but also and most importantly from prying eyes and sneering mouths, from judgment, pity, disappointment and mockery. Pray, what do I have to lose if I pull the trigger?

Me, you answered boldly. You’d lose me. Maybe it’s not good enough a reason, maybe I’m just being pretentious, but you’d lose me and away with me would walk love, and care, and recovery. And I am sorry. I am crawling at your feet pouring apologies. I am braiding promises and dreams into your hair. I am smearing words of devotion on your mouth and saving the truest, the most rapturous of them – I adore you – to be whispered to your heart so it can mend itself. Tell me, darling, can I be enough?

Wilhemina’s arm was shaking. Stone-faced and afraid, she looked at Gallant, saw the hope in his eyes and the anger behind the hope that promised he would be cruel. Her aim lowered from his head to his chest. Gallant’s shoulders straightened. Two seconds passed, and Wilhemina’s eyes veiled over as she put the gun down.

It seemed everyone in the room released their breaths at the exact same moment. Coco’s grip on your arm loosened. The room itself grew brighter.

For a moment Gallant was too stunned to react. Then something like a smirk but uglier twisted his face and he ran his eyes up and down Wilhemina’s body. You saw her stiffen.

She raised her eyebrows arrogantly. “Consider this your lucky day,” she snapped.

Gallant scoffed. Before he had time to move, you planted yourself protectively in front of Wilhemina – she was holding a gun, you were completely defenseless, but at that moment you would have taken a hundred bullets for her without a second thought –, clenched your fists and glared.

“Back off, Gallant,” you warned.

Gallant frowned at you. “We’re getting rid of her, Y/N.”

“Like hell you are.” You took a step forward, casting angry glances at everyone. “Ms Venable’s the only one here who can run this place. We know nothing about nothing. All we do is whine and laze around while she makes sure we have something to eat every day. Everyone else is dead. All the other Outposts have been overrun. Have you ever asked yourself why we’re still safe and alive?”

You paused to take a few short, angry breaths. Coco, Kyle and Ash lowered their eyes and stared at the ground, but Gallant and Andre still looked mad. “Please, guys. Think this over.” Another pause. Gallant’s gaze softened. “We’re all in this together,” you tried. “The only way we can survive is if we stick together.”

“She fucking killed Stu,” Andre barked. “She’ll pay for that.”

“Stu was contaminated,” you retorted. “His very existence threatened ours.”

“Bullshit,” Andre growled, baring his teeth. ”And deep down, Y/N, you know it. She’ll kill us all if we don’t take action first.”

“And we’ll die without her anyway,” you countered.

It went on for what felt like forever. Andre and you, snarling arguments at each other and you thought it would never end. But there was too much at stake, so you pushed on and on rephrasing the same ideas until Kyle lay his hand on Andre’s arm. Then it was him and you against Andre, who eventually deflated and backed off with a mean, angry look in his eyes like a wounded predator.  

You turned to Venable. She had not uttered a single word since she had lowered the gun. Her face was inscrutable. Now she made a few snide comments and left the room. You gave Kyle a grateful smile and hurried after her. Damn the others and what they would think of your behaviour. Let them talk. Let them natter and speculate.

Venable walked down the corridor as if she owned the place, hips swaying to the rhythm of her cane. You followed on her heels, now and then glancing down nervously at the gun still in her hand. The candlelight glinted off it.

To your surprise, Venable headed to her bedroom. She opened the door, turned, and looked down on you haughtily. “And what do you think you’re doing?” she asked imperiously.

That threw you off for a second. You straightened up and studied her face. “May I come in with you?”

Venable’s face was unreadable. You had no idea what was going on in her head. Silence stretched for so long, her gaze so intimidating that you were about to give up and avert your eyes, when she stepped aside to let you in.

You pretended to look about the room as Venable put the gun away in the drawer of her bedside table and sat on the bed. You shot her a sideways glance, noticed her hands were shaking. She was staring straight ahead of her, eyes hard and brooding. You bit your lip, trying to think of something to say. “And I thought it was boring here,” is what came out of your mouth.

Who could blame you, really? People use humor as a shield all the time.

“That’s because you’re a hopeless moron,” Venable snapped. She sounded a bit breathless. You cast her a worried look.

“I,” you started, but then you fell silent. You didn’t know what to add after that.

Venable grabbed her cane to stand up, but her hands were shaking so badly now she dropped it. Her next breath came out with a wheeze.

“Wilhemina,” you called worriedly.

She held out one hand. “Don’t,” she panted.

She tried to stand up without her cane, almost made it; her face contorted with pain as her legs buckled and she fell back on the bed. You ran to her.

“Don’t,” she hissed again, arms twisting to avoid touching you.

“Alright, take a deep breath –“

“I said don’t!” Her right hand slammed into your chest to push you away, but then her fingers clutched your shirt to keep you close. She heaved for breath, her eyes meeting yours in alarm.

“Hey,” you tried. You laid a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

A breath out, painful and short. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“I won’t,” you repeated, almost a growl.

Wilhemina’s free hand shot up to her chest. “I can’t –“she gasped, fingers tugging at her lace collar as if it were trying to strangle her. “Please, I can’t –“

She was losing control. Entirely. Not only of the situation but also of her body, her oldest, worst enemy. And you saw the terror in her eyes, felt her fingers clutch your shirt so tightly you thought she would tear it.

“Please I –“she repeated, voice small and breaking.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Your fingers wrapped around her wrist, thumb rubbing circles to try and ground her. Gently, you pushed her hand against your chest. “Can you feel it rise and fall? Can you breathe with me, darling?” Her shoulders relaxed slightly at the last word, so you said it again, staring into her eyes as you tried to give her a smile. “Just like that, darling. You’re doing so well.”

She sucked in a breath, let it out shakily. You whispered words of encouragement as she copied your breathing, your thumb still rubbing circles on the back of her hand. Her eyes were wide, silently asking for help, seeking reassurances that she would be alright, that this pain would not last. That she would get to hold the reins again and be safe.

When she interlaced her fingers with yours you smiled again, and this time it reached your eyes. “There you go,” you congratulated her. She gave you a smile in return, small but true.”Take one last deep breath for me?”

She did, shoulders rising, gaze softening. You brought her hand up to your mouth and kissed her knuckles.  

“God,” she whispered with a shiver, “I hated that.”

You laughed softly. “It’s called freaking out,” you teased. “It happens to most people.”

She rolled her eyes at you and poked your arm. For a moment she gazed at you dreamily, then she sat up, and smoothed her hands over her skirt.

“I already miss giving orders,” she said. Her voice was playful, but you heard worry in it, too.

You hummed, considered her words. “Well, I’m here if you need someone to boss around.”

You almost regretted your words when you saw the malice in her eyes and the smirk that slowly crept up her mouth. But all she did was bite her lower lip, glance down at your mouth and whisper, “Kiss me.”

You kissed her cheek, soft and hot, to promise her tenderness. You kissed her eyelid, fluttering closed, to promise her protection. And at last you kissed her lips, home, to seal the promise of love.

When you pulled away, her eyes had that same peaceful, relaxed quality you had first caught a glimpse of when she had sat in your room and flipped through your books. It softened her whole face, pastel colours of a summer sunset succeeding to the vivid white and yellow of the afternoon. You grinned at her, drunk with love.  

“Kiss me again,” she breathed, voice barely audible, eyes half-lidded. You eagerly obliged, dipping your lips in hers, the sweetest, most intoxicating of liquors. It burnt its way to your heart and lit up your whole body with desire.  

“I think,” she whispered into your mouth, as her hands slid up your waist, “I think I might amend one of my rules.”

You groaned and sucked gently on her lower lip to taste her. “Please,” you rasped.

“I meant the one about the dress code,” she smiled. You scoffed. Banter seemed so easy and natural to her behind closed doors, and you loved that about her.

One of your hands came up to stroke her hair. Your fingers found a hair pin, tapped on it wistfully.

You pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “Can I…“you whispered. She raised an eyebrow, not quite catching your meaning. Your finger tapped on the hair pin again. She did understand, then. For a moment she looked uncertain, and almost shy, but then she nodded.

Reverently you pulled on the pin and buried your hand in her hair, combing your fingers through it to pull it free. Your other hand came up to remove the bumpits on top of her head. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders and back, rough and fiery red just like the rest of her, ends perfectly trimmed somehow even though she had been living at the Outpost for months. You twisted a strand around your finger, stared at her in awe.

She tried to hold back a smile, failed; her eyes were bright, and the softest of pinks was blooming on her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” you breathed.

She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “You are,” you insisted, cupping her face. “You look like the sunset. Red and purple and pink.”

“Pink?” she questioned.

With a smirk you poked her cheek. “Um, yes. You’re blushing.”

Her brow furrowed. “I’m not.”

“I’m afraid you are,” you chuckled.

“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “Kiss me again,” she ordered.

**

You pulled on her hair, hard, and planted open-mouthed kisses up her neck. You felt her throat vibrate as a moan escaped her.

“Easy now,” she hissed, raking down her nails down your back, a glorious sting.”Don’t get too bold.”

In lieu of an answer you sucked on the soft clammy skin just below her jaw and smirked as she shivered against you. “I’d never dare, Ms Venable.”

She groaned and unceremoniously pushed you onto the bed. You stared up at her, hungry and predatory, and opened your legs. Her eyes flared. She sucked in a breath, stroke her hands up your thighs. Her nails dug into your skin where your legs met your hips. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

You bit down on a smile. “No,” you whispered, meaning to tease her just a bit, to give her the opportunity to exercise her authority and to show her control was still well within her grasp.

Her thumbs were massaging the inside of your upper thighs. You were soaked, burning, and entirely too ravenous for her. “Kiss me,” she repeated.

You brought a hand up to her cheek and gently stroked it. “No,” you taunted.

Her eyes flared again. She slapped your stomach. Your hips bucked, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “I said, kiss me.” A low growl, so ferocious and threatening you would’ve felt uneasy if it hadn’t been for the fond, grateful expression in her eyes. But you frowned slightly, and she noticed, and smirked.

And she was beautiful, cheeks flushed, red hair tousled and the skin of her neck and shoulders adorned with your love marks.

She lunged at you, tongue darting out, to lick up your throat, wet and hot and entirely too enticing. You squirmed under her, your fingers burying in her hair as she nipped the skin along your jaw.

“I’ll say it one more time,” she growled into your skin. She raised her head to meet your eyes, her teeth grazing your skin. “Kiss me.” Categorical, peremptory. So fierce the very ground quaked. You gazed at her in awe.

A smile. A finger slipping under her chin, pulling her to you. A kiss on her lips.

[yandere-daydreams]

requests are open!! a yandere little merman please? like the one who gave up his voice to become human to be with his pirate princess darling :3 thank u !!

I never thought I would end up writing about, what is essentially, a gender-bend disney one-shot, but I love desperate mermaids struggling to show their love for their hesitant human Darlings too much to pass this up. Consider this a version of the ‘mermaid drags a drowning royal to land only to discover they’ve fallen in love with the person they think saved them’ trope. I’m a sucker for the classics.

Title: The Little Mermaid.

TW: Violence, Blood, Emotional Manipulation, Mentions of Drowning, Implied Lasting Trauma, and Jealousy. 

~

Rielle liked to visit you, at night.

It’d been a habit since the first day he spent in your palace, when bruises were still spattered across his pale skin and he carried the smell of sea-salt and sand as if it was a second-nature, the latter of which took much longer to fade than the former. You couldn’t say you blamed him. He’d been rattled, and he was still in a state of shock, unable to utter a word about his home, his tragedy, anything beyond a few disjointed syllables you’d been forced to assume were his name. He hadn’t asked to sleep in your bed, nor had the curled up on your rug like a puppy still getting used to its new owner, but he’d tentatively rested his hand on your shoulder and listen to your stuttering attempts to fill the silence until he saw fit to return to his own chambers, thanking you for your time with a smile and a boyish blush. When he’d come back the next night, you hadn’t refused him. You were fond of him, and of his nightly visits, too. And even if you weren’t, he wouldn’t be turned away.

You’d never had the heart for that kind of thing, not when it came to Rielle.

He didn’t even knock, tonight, he didn’t really have to. Even if you were the heir to the throne, your kingdom was small and peaceful, and any guards you employed were more to soothe the minds of your weary parents than out of any genuine paranoia of your own. Rielle slipped in without a sound, only bothering to announce himself with an arm wrapped around your chest and a face buried in the dip of your shoulder, as much of a hug as your chair and desk would allow. He didn’t seem to mind, though, only letting a mess of violent, auburn hair linger in your vision as he slumped against you, the energy he’d had during the day just beginning to fade. It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, only a few meetings with your advisors and a trip into town to break up the monotony, but when Rielle clung to your side and approached everything with the same determined, prying amazement, it was hard not to let him take you by the wrist and lead the way, even if that ended in missed appointments and sore feet more often than not. It’d taken as much of a toll on you as it did on him, but while he’d be free to collapse onto the comforter of your bed as soon as he pulled away, you had paperwork to toil over, letters to write and bills to sign and corrections to make to plans you could swear you’d corrected the night before. The work of an heir, not a boy who’d washed up on their kingdom’s shores little more than a week beforehand.

“You couldn’t sleep?” You asked, if only out of formality, because it was what you asked every time he came to visit you. He didn’t try to sleep, not when you weren’t around, not when he couldn’t yawn at the lecture of a councilman or rest his head on your shoulder in the back of a slow-moving carriage. Out of routine, he shook his head, and in a merely performative response, you sighed and reached up, running your fingers through the hair that cascaded over your collarbone, as a result. “I suppose that’s my problem, isn’t it?”

A nod, this time. Non-committal, but in the eager, restrained way that lent credibility towards the contrary interpretation.

“And I suppose I’ll just have to let you distract me until you’re tired?’

This time, he didn’t play at coyness, only squeezing you toward his chest and pulling away, a grin painting itself over his lips as he made himself comfortable propped against your desk, seated on the spot you left unoccupied just for him. He took a moment to survey your arrangement before plucking an unused quill from its inkwell, twirling the tip against the center of his palm and smearing back across his skin. That, in particular, earned a half-hearted frown and a lax effort to wipe the excess on the dark material of his pants, but the inconvenience was forgotten as his eyes found what you were working on - a nearly blank piece of parchment, only a name and scrawled out greeting marring its barren surface. You’d have to start over, but you’d have to figure out how to start, first. Rielle tapped a finger against the corner, leaving an unignorable blot of ink in his wake, but you didn’t scold him for it. You could never get mad at Rielle, not without feeling too guilty to stay mad at him.

“It’s supposed to be a letter,” You explained, leaning back in your seat as you stretched, working the kinks out of your spine. You were empathetic to Reille’s situation, anyone would be, but part of the reason you were willing to offer a supportive hand has to do with a more personal type of sympathy, one that wouldn’t belong to just any shipwrecked man you happened to discover. “While sailing here, about a month ago, my ship was caught in a storm. It was a bad one, too, and… I was thrown overboard. The rest of my crew was alright, but for all they knew, I’d drowned.” You paused, biting down on the side of your cheek, as you always did during this part of the story. You were uninjured, so the incident shouldn’t have bothered you nearly as much as it did, and yet, Rielle’s presence alone was enough to prove that you weren’t fully past it. “I hadn’t, obviously, but by the time I washed ashore, there was more water in my lungs than air. It’s like... those fairy tales about mermaids swimming sailors to land. Have you heard them?”

Rielle winked, gesturing to his chest, and you chuckled. Of course he had, who hadn’t? Every child born along the coast was raised on that kind of story, and you couldn’t say you hadn’t considered it, when you first awoke, delious with fever and desperate for a plausible solution.

“I’m just lucky there was a temple nearby. One of their acolytes had to nurse me back to health. I just…” You trailed off, this time, closing your mouth completely. Rielle rested a hand on your arm, urging you gently to continue. It was all you could do to nod, sending a small smile in his general direction. “He’ll never know how thankful I am,” You admitted. It was more than that, but you couldn’t seem to force yourself to voice what exactly more meant. “I want to make it up to him. I want to show him that I haven’t just forgotten. I… I think I’d like to see him again, if I’m being honest.”

Rielle went tense, and somehow, quieter than he usually was. Curiously, you glanced in his direction, only to wish you hadn’t. He wasn’t grinning, anymore, and his eyes were wide, but they weren’t full of amazement, they weren’t full of anything.

Suddenly, they were empty.

Suddenly, he was empty.

You flinched back, moving to voice your concerns, but for all his naivety and reckless abandon, he’d always been faster than you, always been stronger. In less than a second, his hands were in your hair, his nails digging into your scalp as he rooted you in place. With his free hand, he gestured furiously, but his motions were senseless, frustrated, mad, all sharp angles and pounds at his chest without any meaning to be found. His features contorted, scrunching into something irritated and unpleasant, the kind of ugly seriousness you’d begun to think Rielle wasn’t capable of. Again, you tried to interrupt him, tried to reach out and soothe him, but as soon as your attention shifted away from his abrupt outburst, his grip tightened, clamped down, ripped and clenched and tore until something hot and vibrant was running over his fingers, dripping down his forearm until you could see it pooling on your lap, staining your clothes with a mixture of red and black, blood and wet ink.

Your blood, Rielle’s ink.

That was when you screamed.

You decided that, in the morning, you’d request to have a guard posted outside your door, maybe two, maybe three, if they had that many to spare. Maybe you would, but maybe you wouldn’t. Having guards outside your door probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference, not when the sound was cut off so quickly, your breath hitching in your throat as you were wretched out of your seat, thrown to the floor without a spare moment to catch yourself. It was all you could do to catch your breath, to remember how to inhale as something heavy slotted itself against your chest, lean arms wrapping around your torso as another body settled over yours, holding you, clinging to you, pulling you so close, you could feel Reille’s cold breath against your neck, his warm tears against your skin, a shapeless mess of auburn hovering in the corner of your vision, unwilling to move. Not wanting to move.

You could’ve pushed him away. You wanted to. You were stunned, but you knew you should yell, you should fight, you shouldn’t let him cry into your chest like you’re the one to blame. He’d hurt you, he’d lashed out and he’d hurt you, but...

You could never be mad at Rielle. Above all things, you could never bring yourself to be mad at him, not when you could’ve so easily been in his place.

You’d just have to remember to lock your door, tomorrow.

[lucysometimeswrites]

Hey can you please make a award season one but for a latina reader, if you would like you can keep the tom element. Sorry I'm asking again I accidentally deleted the last ask I made. I love your writing, you are amazing.❤️☺️

thank you thank you so much ur so sweet and of course! here you go and i hope you like it :) absolutely loved writing for latina!reader 

Awards Season (latina!reader)

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Here to present the award for Best Actress in a Leading Role, please welcome Meryl Streep!” the host announced. A roar came from the audience at the mention of her name, the very acclaimed actress welcoming the attention and making her way to the microphone.

“Oh, stop it” she said and waved them away, earning a laugh and even more cheering from the theatre. “If I’m honest, I really considered not presenting this award because it breaks me inside to give the Oscar to someone else when it’s rightfully mine” she said in a funny, raspy evil voice, resembling a witch, “But you know, sharing is caring or whatever. Alright let’s get to it.” she continued dejectedly, still joking.

“This year, we have been blessed with beautiful films and, along with them, incredible performances from beautiful and talented actresses. Viola Davis, your abilities to embody different characters and raise awareness to ongoing issues in society has always amazed us, and it does once again in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”, Meryl announced, the camera going to Viola who was sitting about 10 seats to my left, the audience (including me) applauding and praising her. Literally all of her performances are incredible.

Could I still believe I was here? Definitely not, and not any time soon. From small skits to my big break with Tom Holland in a stupid rom-com that I didn’t even want to make, to now. Tom knows it’s nothing against him, it’s just that I haven’t learned to appreciate romantic comedies the way he has, but the thing I loved most from doing it was finishing it with Tom. He had become such an important person in my life since that moment, what with guiding me through the newfound world of fame and being there for me when I joined the Marvel franchise, it was just more than I could ever dream of. Now I sit here at the freaking Oscars, with Tom Holland as my date, and having done one of the greatest films ever, nothing could keep the smile off my face. Or the nerves.

 My leg kept bouncing up and down, a nervous action I often did and one that the guy beside me had caught on to real quick when we first met. His warm hand gently squeezed my thigh, and I turned to look at him a little surprised.

“Hey, it’s okay” he softly said, his gaze soft and comforting.

“I didn’t even realize I was doing it” I answered in the same tone, whispering a thank you and letting my hand rest on top of his, weirdly interlocking our fingers. 

Meryl turned to where Olivia Colman was sitting, “Your Majesty,” she started, referencing her portrayals of royalty and causing her to chuckle, “your moving performances have always left us wanting more, and I’m sure that is what I and everyone felt when we saw you in The Father” a big smile broke out on her face, and cheering ensued once more for our queen, or at least one of mine.

“Aging is some we all go through...unfortunately,” Meryl uttered into the mic, touching up her almost white hair, “and you, Cynthia Erivo, made us relate to your character this way with your brilliant acting in Reaching 39″, that woman is simply amazing, I thought as I clapped and cheered with the audience.

“My dear Kate,” the camera panned to Kate Winslet, who just stared fondly at the woman on the stage, “watching you grow as an actress has been one of the pleasures of my life and you reach new heights both professionally and literally in Misdemeanors”, she is such an icon, oh my.

Finally, Meryl Streep turned to look at me in the front row with a grin on her face, and I quickly got into “camera mode”, as I like to call it. I sat up straighter, looking at her with gentle eyes and smile. 

“Señorita Y/N Y/L,” she started with the heavily accented Spanish word for Ms., “with your entrance into the world of filmmaking, you have set new expectations for all of us to reach. Even though this is your first nomination, I feel in my heart it won’t be the last, and we can’t wait to see more of you like we saw with your extraordinary performance in Paraíso” she finished, bringing a big smile to my face at her words. Turning to the camera, I became a bit shy and gave a small wave, feeling Tom squeeze my hand in comfort and another hand on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Salma Hayek, one of my co-stars in the film, who gave me a strong nod and smile, loudly saying “Eso!” as a cheer for me.

“And the Oscar goes too...” ayyyyy no ay no que nervios que nervios que nervios me muero- all of this going through my head repeatedly but having to put on a smile and a calm façade for the camera was exhausting. Tranquila, tranquila, si no ganas está bien igual solo el hecho de estar aquí ya es lo más-

“Y/N Y/L, Paraíso!” Meryl announced, and all I heard were screams and loud clapping from around me. 

Shocked, I looked up with wide eyes and my jaw going slack a little. I felt a buzz fill my body and the idol on the stage beckoned me up, when I realized I hadn’t moved. I slowly stood up and instantly turned to Tom who quickly pulled me into his arms with a strong hug and whispering in my year, “I knew it! I knew you would do it darling. I’m so so proud of you babe, go get your award!” not giving me a chance to answer as he gave me a quick kiss and turned me around in the direction of the stage. Still in a bit of a daze, I didn’t see Salma, Eugenio (Derbez), and Benicio (del Toro) make their way to me, ambushing me in a group hug as they started jumping around and sort of with me, chanting “EH! EH! EH!” like Latinos at a party and causing me to laugh and come back to my senses. I hugged them all and continued to the stairs, stopping to hug my directors Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón. 

I lifted my dress as I ascended the steps, and in true nervous fashion, stumbled and almost face planted in front of thousands of people. 

“Uy, mierda” I chuckled to myself, and accepted the help of none other than Chris Evans who lent his arm for the remaining steps. I thanked him with a smile and after his Congrats!, I made my way to Meryl who held the famous award in her hands. She handed it to me and pulled me into her embrace, saying “Beautiful job, sweetheart, you’re amazing”, and all I could answer was “Oh my, thank you so much, you’re the amazing one”, sharing a laugh with her and standing in front of the mic.

I looked out into the audience, who were still giving me a standing ovation. Almost like a camera in my head, I tried to ingrain this moment in my mind and took a deep breath, starting my speech.

“God, I really hope I don’t forget any words in English right now” I said with a breathless laugh, inciting one from the people below me. “Thank you so much. Thank you to...um...so many people. To the Academy for this great, great honor. To my fellow nominees for inspiring me every single day. Being in the same room as you is already insane, let alone being nominated with you, it’s just- it’s truly out of this world. Viola, Olivia, Kate, Cynthia, you are my literal idols and if I could physically cut this Oscar into five pieces,” I said as I made a motion of cutting the award and humoured the audience, “I would give a piece to all of you. Um, thank you to my team, my agent, Victoria, te adoro y te agradezco for believing in me and helping me live out my dream. Sorry, I’m probably gonna switch between languages during this.” I said with a laugh. 

“Paraíso was a project that, for me, came out of nowhere. But for my extraordinary directors los señores Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón, it was a life’s work so to you, gracias por darme la oportunidad de darle vida a Marielos and for giving me the experience of a lifetime. Salma, Eugenio, Benicio, Gael, and all the cast and crew, thank you for becoming my second family and supporting me every step of the way. It has been my honor to work with you” I said with a hand on my chest, showing that I was speaking from my heart and smiling at the kisses and cheers sent to me from them, hearing a crazed Te amamos! from Eugenio. It eased the tension in my body which I was incredibly thankful for. 

“I also want to thank-” I stopped, getting a little choked up, “ha, sorry, it’s my family that couldn’t be here” I said, a wave of claps and cheering in comfort came from the audience. Quickly composing myself, I continued, “Ya, okay. All the way back home, lo hice! Familia, les dije que no les iba a agradecer si me ganaba un Oscar algún día por no creer en mi y hoy es ese día, pero no me lo perdonaría si no les agradezco. Gracias por apoyarme a pesar de que yo sé que les dio un ataque que quisiera ser actriz. Gracias por siempre estar ahí para mi, por quererme incondicionalmente y por enseñarme que trabajando duro todo se puede lograr. Los amo infinitamente.” I finished, with tears threatening to roll down my eyes. I tilted my head to the sky to prevent them from falling, and with a deep breath I turned to Tom who had his hands in a prayer stance while looking intently at me, the same smile from before still gracing his face.

“Tommy...” I started, and the audience audibly awed at the nickname, “Oh, you don’t even know what I’m gonna say to him” I said with narrowed eyes, but my gaze found my love once more.

“Thank you so much for being my rock ever since we met. I’m beyond thankful for you and all you do for me, baby. You make me the happiest and thank you for pushing me to do things that scare me. For being there for me in case I fall and for being my person. Te amo, amor.” I blowed him a kiss which he caught and jokingly used to wipe his tears, making me and the other celebrities laugh.

Please wrap up, I read from the screen, and let out and “Ay, perdón! I gotta wrap up sorry sorry” hurriedly finishing up my speech. 

“Lastly, this award goes out to all the Latina girls out there with big dreams. Nunca se den por vencidas. No dejen que nadie les diga que no porque de que se puede, se puede. Querer es poder! I love you guys, my fans oh my gosh, thank you thank you, gracias!” I rushed out, raising the award to the air with one last big smile as Meryl guided me backstage to answer some questions. Just before I was off sight, I turned and looked out to the stage once more.

Lo logré...

---------------------------------------------------------------

once again, disclaimer, movie names are mostly fictitious. feedback and requests always welcome!

[ohctranscripts]

Season 1, Episode 8: Eighthly!

[Music from Julian’s song from last episode]

Narrator: A hospital room in the heart of Paris.  Here lies Julian, janitor at the Eiffel Tower, who opens his eyes…

[Music swell]

Come on, boy, you can do it!

Who opens his eyes and sits up…

[Music swell]

He won’t wake up…

[Door opens, Laeticia mumbling]

It’s Laeticia, chief stagehand of the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air!  Please help…

Laeticia: It’s cold in here, huh?  They’ll freeze you to death.  I told zem I was your sister.  I called, you know, before on, uh, ze telephone, but no zey tell me nothing so I come.  Oh, it’s always like this, it’s why I hate hospital.

Narrator: Laeticia sits nervously by the janitor’s bedside.  She opens her mouth to speak but hesitates.

Laeticia: Ze show is… closing.

Narrator: Laeticia takes out the cigarette a doctor had lent her in the hall - it is Paris, after all - walks to the far side of the room, and getting as far away from the janitor as she can, lights up.

Laeticia: The polar bear, he, uh, he escape ze tower.  He runs loose in Paris.  He is going to ze oyster bars and, uh, along ze Seine, and anyway ze details don’t matter but, uh…

Narrator: Yes, things are not going well with the show.  In fact, tonight’s acts are all ones John Cameron had previously rejected.  It seems he can get neither acts nor an audience to come.

[Laeticia sighs]

Laeticia: You know, I had a dream zat zis would happen.  I had a dream zat, uh, zat ze show closed and I had a dream zat, uh, you died.  It was ze same dream, in fact, and, uh, now ze show is closing and you are…

You are, uh…

Narrator: Laeticia extinguishes her cigarette and crosses to the janitor, and placing her head on his shoulder, takes him by the hand.

Laeticia: I need you not to die.

Narrator: Laeticia turns, colliding with the bedside table, causing a small radio to fall to the floor as she runs out of the room.  On impact, the radio turns on.

[Static, slight music and other voices mixing with each other]

Announcer: You are listening to the Perpetual Broadcasting Corporation!  And now, a Spot Announcement!

[Dog barking]

Thank you, Spot!

[Music playing]

Narrator: In the deep sea of sleep, the radio reaches Julian!  Like a light from above, he finds himself lifted closer and closer to the waking world and becomes suddenly aware that Coco, night watchman at the Eiffel Tower, is there with him!

Julian: Coco, can you hear me?  Coco?

Narrator: But the janitor’s words remain beneath the surface of sleep and the old man cannot hear him.

Julian: Coco!

Narrator: It reminds the janitor of the feeling when he was little of trying to sing or speak underwater.  It’s a feeling he often has.

But he does not have that feeling for long, because from the radio comes the sound that makes him happier than no other sound in the world!

[Music]

John: Broadcasting from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Orbiting Human Circus of the Air!

We start things off with the Orkestral’s version of Cole Porter’s “I’ll Do Anything for Love, But I Won’t Do That” featuring the mime choir of Marie.

[Applause followed by music]

Narrator: As the robed choir of mimes open and close their mouths noiselessly, and the little Orkestral plays its heart out, backstage we find Laeticia with her stagehands Jacques and Pierre, obscured in the shadow of a twelve-foot bowling pin.

Laeticia: Zey had to give away free tickets to get people to come!

Jacques: Seriously, what the hell are we gonna do?

Pierre: Two days’ notice and we’re out of a job?

[Scoff]

Narrator: Dispiritedly, Pierre leans back on the bowling pin.

Laeticia: Pierre!  Ten time I tell you don’t lean on ze bowling pin, it is made to fall over!

Pierre: Calm down, Laeticia.  Look, look, here, I’m stepping away from it, it’s okay.

Narrator: Host John Cameron comes rushing in.

John: My jacket!  Has anyone seen where I put my jacket down?

Laeticia: …You’re wearing it.

John: I’m wearing it!

Narrator: Host John Cameron goes rushing out.

[Music ends, applause]

John: That was the mime choir of the Marie.

Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t honestly think of a more beautiful way to begin our… final evening… than this very special demonstration you’re about to hear.  By remote hook-up, I give you Professor Edelweiss Fleur, broadcasting live from the ship where the Seine meets the sea.

Prof: Uh, I—I cannot hear clearly, the… there’s, there’s a noise.

John: That’s our audience applauding you, Professor.

Prof: Ah, yes.  Uh… when, as children, we experiment with singing underwater, uh, other children cannot hear us.  But, but the whales can.  Uh, blessed with extraordinary hearing, the whale can hear children singing at distances of up to ten nautical miles, and in many cases, answer, unbeknownst to us, with songs of their own.

We will now demonstrate that whales whose migration brings them closest to beaches frequented by children begin to adopt tonal patterns found in human songs.

John: Is this true?

Prof: Yes.  A migration of whales will pass momentarily.  The sounds of these whales will travel back to the broadcast ballroom where the Orkestral stands ready to accompany any melodic pattern, should one emerge.

John: The Orkestral stands prepared.

[Whale song]

Prof: [Gasps] And here they are!

[Music playing with whale song]

Narrator: Meanwhile, in the janitor’s hospital room, the janitor cannot contain himself.

Julian: Coco!

Narrator: He knows this song!

Julian: I sang it at a party when I was a kid!

Uh… it goes…

[Bell rings]

[Julian singing in French with the music]

Narrator: Strangely, at that exact moment, back at the broadcast ballroom, John Cameron becomes convinced that he hears someone singing along, a voice echo-y and distant.

John: My god, it can’t be, but…  It is!  He’s okay?  He’s in the vent!  Julian!

Narrator: John Cameron rushes to the back of the stage, pulling the curtain aside to see the duct, and there he finds… only wind.

[Wind whistling over music]

[Music ends]

Back in the janitor’s hospital room, the janitor continues to speak to his friend, completely unaware that the old man has already gone.

Julian: Coco, remember I told you that I ran away to my great grandfather’s when I was a kid?  And that song… there was a party at my great grandfather’s house the first night, and they were singing that song.  It was, like, four AM, it was like four in the morning, and they had this huge, huge dinner, and um…

I was hiding because, like, I thought if somebody saw me they’d put me to bed, you know?  And I was feeling really jealous because I…  It was like my great grandfather forgot about me.

And I, I was looking, and, and my great grandfather didn’t have a shadow, and it was just so weird because everything else in the room had a shadow and my great grandpa did not have a shadow.

And I looked back… and his shadow was a swan.  It looked exactly like a swan, and then I looked away again and I looked back and his shadow was gone again, and then the next time I looked, his shadow was a train.

He was moving things around on the table, he was, like, moving the serving dishes and the wine bottle and the wine glass and the lamp, and he was moving all these things around and the whole time he was, like, leaning back into his chair, so he didn’t have a shadow because the chair was following it up.  And he was moving all these things around and the whole time he’s talking to all the other adults, he’s the complete center of attention, and nobody has any idea that he’s doing this.

And then he leans forward…

And his shadow makes a picture.

And nobody knows except for me!

He was doing it just for me.

And I climbed out from behind the couch.  I crawled right into the center of his shadow.  [Sighs] And I fell asleep.

[Applause]

John: The whales, ladies and gentlemen!  The Orkestral!

And now, behold our stage transformed!  A bowling alley of gigantic proportions!  Two lanes, two sets of twelve-foot pins, and two cannons!  This can only mean one thing, ladies and gentlemen, the world’s two greatest aerial oddities have challenged each other to a mammalian cannonball bowling contest!

Ladies and gentlemen, Ernest the equestrian cannonball, and Martha, the bovine, canoness!

[Applause]

The horse aims, its cannon lights its fuse, and climbs inside!

[Horse whinnies, fuse being burned]

[Explosion, horse crying followed by bowling pins falling, applause and music]

It’s a strike, ladies and gentlemen!  The cow, the cow aims her cannon, lights her fuse, and climbs inside!

[Explosion, cow crying followed by bowling pins falling, applause and music]

Narrator: But John’s thoughts are elsewhere.

John: [Mumbling, more explosions and crying] And it’s a split, ladies and gentlemen!  And now our crew is hustling to reset the pins, ladies and gentlemen, as the horse lights his fuse, climbs inside…

[Quieter] It’s all over.

[Louder] Oh, it’s a loper, ladies and gentlemen, but the horse picks up an extra form for a spare!

[Quieter] Could’ve had a beach house…

[Louder] And now it’s Martha, climbing to the cannon, fuse burning down, there she goes!

[Quieter] I’ll be homeless…

[Louder] And it’s a double, ladies and gentlemen, Martha in the lead!

[Quieter] Oh, I’m hearing it now, that singing sounds like a ghost…

[Music getting louder under explosions, crying, bowling pins]

[Louder] And the horse sailing through the air, and he does it, ladies and gentlemen, a pure turkey from the horse, turkey horse, like a proud Thanksgiving turkey right now with a horse!

[High-pitched noise]

What if the janitor… dies?

Narrator: The janitor’s hospital room.  A dark, hulking presence suddenly blots out the light, its blackness devouring all in its midst including sound!  The shadow draws closer and closer at last, enfolding he in his bed, coming to him as it had so many before, the young and old alike.  He wonders, most of all, at the fact that he is not afraid.  It reminds him suddenly of his first day at school.

Everybody… goes.

John: Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t know how to say goodbye.  So it must be with our show, we don’t want things to end, but they do.  And how easy it is to love that which we know will not come back.

And here’s an act, ladies and gentlemen, that certainly will not!  For our final feature presentation, the riveting memoir of one of our most beloved regular performers.  You’ve all enjoyed his work; we’ll now learn his extraordinary story!  It’s Yurmac, the pie-eating Cossack!

Yurmac: Hallo!  I am Yurmac.  Yurmac, the pie-eating Cossack.  It is we Cossacks who eat pie like no others.  We who travel the barren, lifeless steppes, longing for the eternal sweetness of raspberry, blueberry, pineapple, gooseberry, lingonberry, banana cream, key lime.

Also, there is savory pies.

Narrator: Backstage at the broadcast ballroom, huddled in consoling embrace, are Laeticia and John Cameron.  Beside them, Jacques tries to hide the fact that he is crying while Pierre offers him his handkerchief.

And as Yurmac talks and talks…

Yurmac: …one time, I ate the pie with dog food…

Narrator: As slow as his story is, it is not slow enough for the amassed crowd backstage, for with each word, he seems to count down the remaining minutes left in the life of the show.

Laeticia: [Sighs] Zis place is drafty.  Earlier, ze wind sound was so loud, I thought someone was singing.

John: [Gasp] You heard it too?  He’s haunting us!

Narrator: But what’s this?  In the distance, far from the light cast off the stage, and approaching is…

[Footsteps]

Wait a minute, is…  A ghostly form!  It’s barely visible…

As it approaches, an unearthly breathing can be heard whistling through the halls!

[Wind whistling]

Jacques: What is that?!

Narrator: Trailing behind it, a vast blackness that seems to devour all that it passes, making more and more of the backstage disappear as it draws nearer and nearer!  Unafraid of anything, even Laeticia takes a step back!

Laeticia: [Gasp] Zis cannot be!

Narrator: John Cameron stands frozen, like a deer in the headlights, and Jacques rises to his full height, his heart pounding.

Laeticia: But zis is just like my dream!

Jacques: I ain’t been to confession in fourteen years!

Narrator: It’s drawing nearer now…

Laeticia: I’m ready!

Jacques: Please!

Pierre: I’m not ready!

Narrator: One can begin to make out… bloody bandages… a hospital gown… his face…

Julian: Jacques, Laeticia, everybody!  It came for me, it followed me here!

Narrator: The janitor, and that which follows him, finally reach the light!

Jacques: My god!

Narrator: It’s the Great Recitating Platypus of the North!

Julian: I woke up and he was there.

John: You’re alive!

Julian: If the platypus is there…

Laeticia: Julian!

Julian: You can make a wish and it’ll come true!  And I, I asked him to come here!

Narrator: Jacques steps forward.

Jacques: [Crying] Mister Platypus, oh my god!  Thank you for saving my mother when I was little!  She said you came to her, and, and when I was eight I stopped believing in you and I…

Narrator: John Cameron steps between Jacques and the platypus.

John: Mister Platypus, I know you only cure sick and infirmed people, but… we are show-people.

Narrator: And in saying this, he puts a hand on the janitor’s shoulder to include him in the statement.

John: And our show is dying.  I—I don’t know why you came here but, Mister Platypus, if you were to go on the air, you would save our show.  Please.

Narrator: The giant platypus slowly bends forward and places its flipper on John Cameron’s shoulder.  John Cameron tears himself away and runs to the stage, only stopping on the way to unplug Yurmac’s feature presentation.

[Applause]

John: Ladies and gentlemen, we have something for you now that has changed everything.  And you’re not gonna believe it, I give you no less than the greatest broadcast event in the history of this medium, a being who up till now has only appeared in dreams and stories that we were told as children, here, right now, waiting, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Great Recitating Platypus of the North!

Narrator: The platypus walks onstage…

[Flipper hitting ground, footsteps and applause]

The platypus leans back, opens his mouth, and is about to speak…

Julian: No, Mister Shenard, not now…

[Shenard yelling “Julian”, getting slowly louder]

Narrator: Oh no!  The entire ballroom disappears.  The audience, the stage, Mister Cameron, the microphones…

[Shenard yelling at Julian]

All that remains is the janitor, not in blood-stained bandages, but holding his bucket and mop in janitor’s attire.

He stands on an outer pathway of the Eiffel Tower, awakened from his daydream by Mister Shenard, his boss.

The janitor offers no excuses.  Unlike Coco, Mister Shenard is not the kind of man who can imagine a ballroom at the Eiffel Tower.

No, the janitor simply stares, because directly behind his boss stands the Great Recitating Platypus, as real as life itself!  And he realizes – the platypus has stayed with him upon awaking.  And as his boss yells, he does not listen.  The janitor is making a wish.

The platypus disappears…

The janitor begins to mop, and Mister Shenard angrily walks off.  Seeing Mister Shenard is gone, the janitor stops mopping.  He leans back and closes his eyes.

Suddenly, there is a wooden stage beneath him.  Around him, a grand ballroom, with a red velvet curtain!

[Applause]

And next to him is… John Cameron!  Laeticia!  Jacques!  Francois!  Pierre!  And his wish has come true!

But, this is not what he has wished for.  He wished for the audience he’d always kept with him to become real.

And he does not know how, but… he feels that you are with him.  And he believes that you are real.

[Applause]

John: Tune in next season, ladies and gentlemen!  We’ll be right here, waiting for you.

Julian, why don’t you sing something?

Narrator: John Cameron nudges the janitor up to the microphone.

John: Go ahead.

Narrator: The Orkestral stands waiting.

John: Come on, sing!

Narrator: The janitor, a blush on his face, opens his mouth, and sings.

[Music]

Julian: Oh, here you are, and you’re all you wished to be, you’re alive and you’re not alone, not alone, happiness…

So, close your eyes, hear the whole world call your name, and you answer, please don’t go…

Please don’t go away…

All I know is here, and now, and right away…

Call me here I will, like the light of day…

All of the words of those songs we all will sing, mean the same thing and it’s not goodbye, not it’s not, go away…

All my name behold, have strength, have my embrace…

All I seem to hear my prayer, don’t go away…

Oh, you’re alive, you’ve been all too long to just one thing, and it calls you, please don’t go…

Please don’t go away…

[Music slows and ends]

Julian: Thank you!

John: That’s it for this year, ladies and gentlemen.  This is John Cameron.  Broadcasting from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Orbiting Human Circus wishes you a good night.

[Loud, long applause, ending music]