#and i don't really hold it against anyone that they didn't immediately clock that it would trigger me bc who thinks like that

[confinesofmy]

the cousin i confided in yesterday explaining how i was triggered told my other cousin (that i'm even closer with) that she was really annoyed with me for taking issue with something that wasn't even that big of a deal anyway so uhhh i'm not initiating contact with her again for a while lol. she seemed mildly annoyed when we were talking about it but i don't pick up cues well over the phone and that didn't really make sense anyway bc why would someone be annoyed at me calmly explaining one of my triggers and discussing what we can do to make everyone more comfortable next time it happens lmao so i was like "oh she's not really annoyed you're just feeling insecure bc you're irrationally afraid of showing emotions" but noooo she was fucking annoyed. she did think i was being difficult for no reason. she doesn't have fucking basic empathy for me. cool cool, cool cool cool.

[neonovember]

hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in” 

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen. 

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes. 

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were. 

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts. 

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen.  You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad. 

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever. 

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time. 

*

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

*

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story” 

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago. 

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came. 

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string. 

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing. 

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to. 

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out? 

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face. 

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised. 

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would  be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again. 

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you, 

You had to see your golden boy.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Three weeks. 

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year. 

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival. 

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more. 

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight. 

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes. 

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with. 

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it. 

[catnipaddictt]

Toast

neighbour!sam monroe x gn!reader

synopsis: your first interaction with your angsty neighbour

wc: 2k

tw: none

Stretching your arms above your head, you will your body to wake up quicker. You swing your legs out of bed and onto the soft carpet of your bedroom. Your alarm clock shows that the time is half past 10. But luckily today was a Saturday meaning you didn't have to do anything productive.

After taking a quick shower, you throw on some jeans and a comfy sweater before heading downstairs. Making your way to the kitchen, you are greeted by your parents as well as the smell of overcooked toast. 

“Good morning hunny, sleep well?” Your mother asks with a smile. Both your parents were good natured but strict. You were their previous little girl after all, even if you were definitely little anymore. 

“Yeah, I slept okay” you reply back as your father hands you a piece of almost blackened toast, earning a scowl from you. He sees your expression and jokes “more flavour this way!” 

You look our the window of the kitchen at the clear skies. Maybe today would be a good day to visit the lake that was close to your house. Deciding that it would be a good use of your time you grab the book you had been reading and your walkman off of the kitchen bench before telling your parents where you were going.

“Okay honey, but be careful and don't talk to anyone you don't know” your mother warns you in a strong tone. “I'll be safe, I promise” you reply before your dad pushes another piece of toast your way. “For the road.”

The walk from your house to the lake only takes about 15 minutes but is made more enjoyable by the music in your ears. Once arriving at the glistening water you find a shady tree to sit against, placing the now cold, burnt toast on the ground. No way you were taking another mouthful of what tasted like tar.

Lost in the world of your book and the song in your ears, you don't hear the figure approaching you, only noticing when a dark shadow casts its way across the pages in front of you. You look up only to be met with blue eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner. You immediately recognize the figure as your gloomy neighbour, Sam Monroe. 

You were under strict instructions by your mother never to talk to the boy as he listened to ‘devils music’ and smoked enough weed for the entire neighbourhood. However, this never stopped your wandering eyes from observing him. From a distance of course. 

You would watch him slam the front door to his mother's house as he left, wearing dark clothes with all sorts of logos you didn't know. Your bedroom window looked directly into his and even when his blinds were shut, you could see the boy moving around shirtless, cigarette tucked between his slender, ring-clad fingers. 

So what? You're a little fascinating with him. But curiosity never killed the cat, and you weren't exactly breaking your mother's rules as you had never uttered a word to him. 

Sam looks at you, his cigarette hangs loosely between his lips before he pulls it away, exhaling. You hope your mouth wasn't gapping at him. Pulling your headphones off your ears, you look up at him, slightly worried. Why was here standing right here, right in front of you? 

He crouched down in front of you, holding out the cigarette for you to take. You take it from him, not really sure what to do. You wanted to make yourself seem cool, so you try your luck and bring it to your lips before inhaling. 

Almost instantly you feel like you are coughing up a lung. ‘How do people do that?’ You question yourself. Sam lets out a huff of amusement before taking the cigarette from your outstretched hand. He sits down in front of you, crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knees, making sure the cigarette doesn't burn through his well-worn jeans. 

“At least you tried,” he shrugs. “The first time I tried smoking, I started crying” he admits. You take in his words carefully, pressing them permanently into your memory. He was actually speaking to you. He gave you his cigarette to try. His saliva was probably on it. Oh god. His saliva probably made contact with your mouth. If your mother found out she would skin you alive.

“Hey, you with me?” He waves his hand in front of your face causing you to snap out of your little trance. “Uh…yeah” you respond. Smooth. “What were you listening to?” He questions. “Oh...I was listening to David Bowie.” You realise that he is probably going to think you're a loser because you don't listen to anything he likes.

“Bowie's cool” he replies. You can't tell if he is being sarcastic or not. “Have you heard anything by Marilyn?” He asks. “Marilyn Monroe?” you must look perplexed as he laughs “No, Marilyn Manson.” 

“I don't think so?” You reply “My parents don't let me listen to anything that doesn't play on the radio.” He passes you the headphones that were reading around his neck, and plugs them into his much newer walkman. “Here listen.” You place his headphones over your ears and after a few moments music fills them. 

It's nothing like anything you have heard before. It's raspy and messy but you like it. You can also hear why your mother didn't want you listening to this type of music. It makes you feel something that's hard to put into words. “It's different but I like it” you conclude to Sam, sliding the headphones off and passing them to him.

“Yeah? I could show you some other stuff some time if you want?” He says and you nod “I would like that.” 

“I'm surprised I've never spoken to you before, I know we go to the same school, and we are neighbours” he states looking at you. “I was told to stay away from you” you admit. Although now you can't see why you were told to, Sam seems genuinely nice. 

“Ah, your mom's got strong views… or?” “Something like that” you respond. “I've seen you looking at me, you know, I can feel your eyes when I leave the house” Sam says calmly. You in fact are the opposite of calm now, but you manage to limit it to a darker tint covering your cheeks. 

“Sorry” you mutter. “Hey, I don't mind it, although you should also close your curtains better. I don't mind you watching me, but I can see you getting changed. I turn away, don't worry.” Sam speaks before talking another drag of his cigarette.

You go a deeper shade of red, if that is even possible. He can see you getting changed. And for some reason you don't really mind? He said he looks away though, a small part of you hopes he isn't telling the truth. “I swear I don't watch okay?” He restates, trying to get his point across. “I'm not a perv or anything” 

You nod at him, unsure what to say. “Why do you have a piece of burnt toast?” His question catches you off guard. He can't just go from saying he likes you watching him to asking about your dad's questionable cooking methods.

“My dad thinks the toast is better this way, but it really isn't. I was going to feed it to the birds” you admit still tinted with embarrassment.

“It looks inedible.” Sam states, eyeing up the bread suspiciously. He looks over towards the waters edge, where a selection of ducks had gathered. You pick up the now slightly soggy piece of toast and rip it in half unceremoniously. You pass one half to Sam, he raises a pierced eyebrow. “For the ducks” you explain, trying to not come off as too weird. 

He places his cigarette between his pink lips again, inhaling the smoke. You watch as it comes out of his nose, but look away quickly, trying not to seem as if you were staring. He doesn’t say anything but you can feel his gaze on the side of your face. 

You see him move and look back at him as he gets to his feet, unfolding his legs clumsily. He holds out his ring-clad hand for you to take, prompting you to look up at him. “Thought you wanted to go feed the birds, remember?” he says with a sly grin as you take his hand. He pulls you to your feet, and you place your book in your bag carefully. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he leads you around the lake a bit until you reach a shady outcrop with a dozen or so ducks surrounding it. He lets go of your hand and you internally miss the warmth of his palm. He takes the half piece of burnt toast and rips off a small chunk before throwing it out to the water. The ducks, as expected, start making a racket and swarm the small offering. More ducks must sense that something of importance is happening as more start to swim towards the bank. You rip off your own bit of blackened bread, throwing it at the selection of hungry mouths. 

“Hey, overthere, look” Sam speaks as he points towards two large swans swimming towards the frenzy. Once they get closer to you two, you rip off a bigger piece of the toast and throw it towards the pair. The larger of the swans takes it in their beak, gulping it down. You smile at the large white beauties as they swim even closer, wanting their share of the feast. Sam rips off smaller bits than you, making sure to try and give each loud duck a bit of food. 

After a few minutes of pulling pieces off of bread, both you and Sam have run out of food for the birds. “You know, you’re not too bad company” Sam says, keeping his head facing the water. “Thanks” you reply quietly, “You are a lot less…scary than I thought.” The two swans make their way onto the bank of the lake, settling down by the waters edge. You watch as they ruffle their pale feathers and begin grooming themselves. 

Sam lets out a laugh, now turning to face you. “Thanks, we should do this again sometime.” You nod slowly in agreement. The warm sun bathes both of you in the late morning light and makes the water glisten invitingly. He throws down the remains of his cigarette after taking one last inhale, stomping on it to make it stop burning. 

You watch the last of the smoke drift into the air as he exhales it, politely away from your face. His eyes connect with yours as he turns back to face you. The ducks continue to quack in the background, but as you two have stopped feeding them, some have begun to swim away towards the shady opposite bank. 

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” Sam asks, looking at your face closely. His blue eyes shine in the sun, making them stand out from his messy black hair. “I don’t know” You answer honestly, you really hadn’t planned your day past this trip to the lake. “Do you want to hang out or something?” he questions you, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to”. 

“I would like that” you shoot him a smile, afterall it would be nice to have a friend so close to your house. Even if you would have to keep it away from the prying eyes of your conservative parents. “Lunch?” he queries with a sly grin. You nod quickly in reply, lunch would be nice.

It's safe to say the rest of your day off was spent with your rather attractive emo neighbour, and an hour long lecture from your angry mother when you were caught talking to him in the driveway.

ignore any grammatical errors, I made them on purpose I swear

[rilakeila]

exchange of roses, ep 1: the battle between the two brutes

host club! jjk x fem!reader

ep. overview the former kendo champs, sukuna and mori, face off in a kendo duel. let's see how this goes!

gojo satoru is the head of jujutsu technology academy's elite high school host club with his friends: geto suguru, nanami kento, itadori sukuna, shoko ieiri, haibara yu, and of course, their princess manager. what happens when they go up against another elite host club in an exchange event with different schools? let's find out!

a/n: erm, the next two events will def be more interactive with the ohshc, the club specialty ep will def have a lot of ohshc/jjk interactions. im just being indecisive rn

the clashing of the shinai (sword made of bamboo) sounded through the room reserved for jujutsu tech. the early morning awoken by the continuous practicing of techniques against the dummies. it wasn't as if there was some sort of waver in sukuna's confidence for the upcoming event later in the day. perhaps, it was the weight of his club's reputation because of his greediness and pride from the prior day's small conference despite it was his doing.

he shook off the thought by striking the side of the body with the outer third of the shinai. his concentration was broken only to hear snoring, causing him to sigh. he brought satoru and (y/n) to accompany him. for the former, they were supposed to train together, and for the latter, she was only there for moral support. endearing, really.

trailing over to the sprawled out figure, he dropped the tip of the shinai onto his stomach, causing satoru to jolt and immediately sit up straight, arms at ready to fight. his eyes followed up to the shinai and its holder, "oh, it's just you. what time is it?"

sukuna glanced over to the clock, "8:06."

"ugh, it's so early," satoru plopped down onto the ground, stretching his limbs star-like. he looked over to their manager, "and, she's still sleeping."

(y/n) was slumped over, neck surely hurting. she was at first delighted to watch the two spar and prepare for their martial arts games. she watched intently, handing genuine praises out, knowing both thrived off of them. sukuna would never display his appreciation for them, but she noticed he holds his head a little higher, more tilt in his smirk. as time passed, satoru tapping out by 6:00, both succumbed to slumber.

without much thought, sukuna lightly poked her head with the shinai, causing satoru to swat away the stick. she stirred, only to snap her eyes open, remembering where was, "what time is it?"

"7:08."

hearing the time, she laid down, resting her eyes, "it's too early."

"tch," sukuna turned around, swinging around the shinai.

"my neck hurts," she groaned, trying to massage the crick.

"i'm surprised that you didn't move around," satoru flailed his arms around on top of her, which he earned a heavy hand to the stomach.

"if you two are both going to lounge around, then leave," sukuna chastised.

"awww, kuna, but we've been here since earlier. we're both more than ready."

"we all need to leave, the announcements start at 8:30. i can't have you both missing breakfast either," (y/n) rose to her feet, trying to pull satoru up with her. she eventually quit, when he went deadweight. "sukuna, you don't start until 8:45 later, and your first opponent isn't really anyone that i've heard of. you'll be fine. be at breakfast soon."

the pink-haired teen grumbled, but his stomach seemed to reflect his sound. breakfast doesn't sound too bad.

8:40.

"look, there's itadori-kun"

honey pointed through the glass windows of the gymnasium. there was sukuna, preparing for his first round of the day with (y/n) holding his men (helmet). he was fastening his kote (gloves), which he soon put his helmet on, bonking the top of (y/n)'s head in the process.

"he looks scary with all of that on," kaoru commented.

the ouran host club gathered around honey senpai at the window, watching the match get started. sukuna and his opponent bowed to each other before bowing to the officials with the referees. now, the match was on.

sukuna's personality reflected how his techniques and how executed kendo. teasing, he had a sway in the way he holds his shinai, falsifying whether he would initiate an attack. this would allow catching his enemies off balance, which is when he first strikes.

"kote!" ippon, the perfect strike.

the red flag raised to signal a point to sukuna. cheers echoed in the gym, and the host club couldn't help but cheer with them. the players reset once more in the middle before resuming the match at the referee's call.

"he moved so fast," hikaru exclaimed.

"itadori-chan hasn't changed one bit with his techniques. he's still so fun to watch!" honey said. he eyed takashi, who used to look up to sukuna's techniques when they were all younger. the two never formally met the pink-haired student, however, it's hard to miss those colored tufts with loud cheers when passing through the championships.

the ouran host club watched intently, if they took their eyes off, they might miss an important attack.

however the other player wasn't making any offensive moves, probably unsure how to attack him. sukuna lessened his tough stance, hoping the other would just charge at him, but there was no budge. he started to quickly swing at the shinai, hopefully waking up the sorry guy. however, there was an opportunity that sukuna doesn't ever miss. he trapped the player, giving him the opening to thrust the tip of the shinai to his neck.

the red flag goes up once more, and the bell signalling that the match was over. they go to their respective starting positions, wrapping up the match. cheers roared through the gym, as sukuna removed his men off.

"woah, he's so cool," kaoru marveled, the twins pretending to be kendo players with imaginary. tamaki was already taking pictures with his phone during the entirety of match, which his members caught him ("it's just for reference.")

"his last kendo tournament, he only lost as the referees were paid off to let the other person win. since then, he hasn't been seen competing," kyoya stated.

"he was supposed to compete in takashi's last tournament but he pulled out of it last minute," honey added, earning a nod from the taller male.

truth be told, sukuna only missed that tournament as the host club had a beach vacation at the special request of kento. no one wanted to pass over the opportunity to a holiday or how kento asked for something.

"well, mori-senpai, we'll be rooting for you in your kendo match," haruhi smiled before the twins dragged her into the gym, trying to find seats.

"you'll do amazing, senpai!" tamaki shared a grin before quickly following the trio, shouting after them.

a small smile on takashi's face at the encouragement from his members. honey noticed the contentment on his face, knowing how grateful he was despite the little words the taller expressed. he pulled his cousin down, enough to pat the top of his head, "good luck out there."

even with nothing said, he just feels everything completely.

"the next two sections, martial arts and table tennis, will be happening concurrently at around 10:30. so try to support both groups as best as possible," (y/n) read off from her clipboard, earning a salute from her members. ieiri and yu were participating in the table tennis duo matches, while satoru would be participating in the martial arts (which he found out that the specific art was karate aka not his favorite).

"and what sport will you be participating in, miss manager?" suguru questioned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"none, everything is all on you guys today," she answered, in honesty, she wasn't feeling any of the individual events and would rather wait until tomorrow to expend any of her energy.

"that's no fun, but it'll be great having you support all of us. i expect the same amount of attention from you when i prepare for the relay," suguru pointed to the fact that she was helping sukuna prepare for his round earlier.

"he's just been on edge since this morning, figured the least i can do is help him with his equipment," she said, causing suguru to hum in response.

currently, the tall member from the ouran host club, morinozuka-san if she remembers correctly, was completing his kendo round. based on the portfolio kyoya built for them, he was a national kendo champion. the clicks of the bamboo swords heard through the gym. morinozuka currently playing the defensive side, as his opponent continued to play with a set of aggressive attacks.

it was already 1-0, due to morinozuka taking an advantage in the first minute of the match. however the round of kendo were only set for 10 minutes, and it looked like morinozuka-san was now playing for time before he strikes.

that was what sukuna was talking about during his morning session. he was already thinking about what was three steps ahead of him, as he usually does. sukuna brought up as him and morinozuka's strategies and techniques are about the same, and their match might have an extending round.

"look at him go, he has great balance," satoru commented as he watched.

"yeah, he's kinda the same to sukuna with the way he fights, but somehow very different," yu mentioned the fighting style. (y/n) thinks how morinozuka isn't as badgering as sukuna, probably has more patience and firmness.

morinozuka slipped through a weakness of his opponent, catching him completely off guard.

ippon! strike to the neck, and it was game.

"he ended the match, just like sukuna-senpai did," yu exclaimed.

cheers erupted again once the bell signalled the ending of the match.

"10 minutes until the final round with sukuna and that guy," ieiri said as their pink-haired host trailed in behind her, carrying his bag of items with him.

"that was fast, final round already?" suguru questioned. there were matches happening concurrently, but there should have been a couple of dozens.

"a lot of them forfeited kendo and martial arts, seeing who their competition was," kento answered. he was on patrol for (y/n), updating her on any information in terms of matches and the entire exchange event.

"losers!" satoru cried out, laughing, seemingly the only one who found it funny. "oh, come on, guys."

"alright, sukuna, you're up next!"

this is annoying. sukuna's pride and need to be irritating (according to (y/n)) always got in the way. sometimes, it worked in their favor, sometimes not. and in this situation, it's biting sukuna's ass. he never exerted extra efforts unless the outcome severely aided him in his favor. and now, he's stuck going toe-to-toe with a national kendo champion because he decided to say some shit (even if himself is champion, also)

typically, (y/n) or kento saves him (or satoru and suguru) when he's mouthing off, but they didn't.

he sighs while hopping back to resume his stance.

two options: give up by letting up or let run time

both options would result in failure in some way. the latter, in kendo rules, would result in an extension, and he still has to continue playing. the first would honestly just ruin his reputation, and morinozuka would see right through it. however if he forgoes both options and tries, it would seep into the second option regardless.

he's not the type to do it for anyone but himself, but why does he have the sudden urge to just do it for the club. no, he'll do it for himself despite if there's nothing to gain from it. what's the point if he can't win?

sukuna scanned the player in front of him, figuring out what would be the best way to earn a perfect hit. the height difference between both of them wasn't off too much, him just being a little taller than morinozuka. there wasn't many weak points to strike, but he would be able to test the waters.

he pulls the first offensive move since the beginning of the match. the bamboo sticks ring through the gym, both trying to earn a point. at this point, there shouldn't be much time left on the clock.

"this match is a little boring," hikaru yawned, to viewers, the match seemed to be rather long.

"we're going to find something more entertaining," kaoru completed his brother's thoughts, almost walking away until tamaki stopped them.

"hey, wait a minute, it's the last match and the least we can do for mori-senpai is to watch him," their boss made them sit back down, but they couldn't go without a huff. "what do you think will happen, honey-senpai?"

"it's hard to say. i bet both of their motives are for the clubs. since their techniques mirror each others quite well, i think the officials will send them to a draw without a round extension and give both a point in team points," honey said, as he downed a piece of his cake.

takashi tried to lunge and strike sukuna's left side of his torso, until it was blocked. there hasn't been a match where he was so unsure of what he planned to do for an attack, but here, this pink-haired teen has him stumped. they seem to mirror each other's movements and the plan of defense was, and even when he tries to do a technique he has never done, it's blocked. and it's back to square one.

sukuna almost plans to make a fool of himself and just charge without a technique, but it would give kiddish and actually tarnish his name. he could play dirty and force him out of bounds or make him drop his shinai.

however the bell rings, signalling the end of the match. the red and white flags raised. the two concede, finishing with the formalities to end a kendo match, waiting for the call from the officials.

"morinozuka takashi and itadori sukuna, the match ends in a draw. both performances leading up to this round have been tallied, which assumes into a draw. the games of table tennis and martial arts will start in an hour, please proceed."

"hmph," sukuna bows to takashi once more before mirroring his footsteps to exit the middle of the gym. he was rather unsure how to feel about the ending. he finds his members gathered together, waiting for him, grins all on their faces minus kento who only smiles softly.

"you did great, kuna!" their president first hugs him, which ends up piling everyone into embracing their cocky member. despite the uncertain ending to his kendo match, there was no doubt of the one skip in his heart as his club congratulated him.

that's enough skips for one day.

extra

8:40

"do you ever get nervous fighting or like before? do you feel anything during match days?" (y/n) questioned, watching sukuna adjust his equipment.

"no, i don't feel anything," he answered. though, he knew that she wouldn't have a random question without a reason, "what makes you ask?"

"just wondering." she fiddled with the flaps of the bottom of the helmet. "i don't know, i was also thinking about how angry i would be if i was playing a sport and so close to being a champion, only for me to lose because people got paid to alter the outcome."

he remembers that day vaguely, as he just wanted to push out the emotions that filled in him in those moments. so, it was a lie that he doesn't feel anything, that day, he felt everything. not even in a good way.

"that day, once i figured out the referees were paid off for the last round, why try if the result was already set in stone," he blankly stated, pulling his gloves on. the thing was he did try, he tried the best he was able to, everyone was counting on him that day. his host club, his family, but it just had to be paid off. so close to reaching his one goal, only to be snatched away by greed.

"is that why you stopped participating in kendo? because it might happen again?," she always knew, and he wasn't sure if he hated that she always knew.

"no," he was going to answer, but he wasn't sure how to respond anymore without giving her any leverage. he did lose the passion of participating in his club outside of the academy, as well as the one at jujutsu tech.

"hmm.. just a thought. but i wouldn't let anyone take what i enjoy away from me." she handed him his helmet with a soft smile on her face, "just so you know, we all knew you won that last point. we knew you won that day."

with that stupid smile on her face, he snatched the helmet.

and with that stupid skip in his heart, "get out of here."

ep 1, complete.

[chesirecatsmile]

brainrot inspired by the one video of daniel in the static bike

!

the morning light streams in through the windows, drilling into the throbbing pain in max’s temples as it pulls him away from sleep. he’s way too hot and face down on the pillows and oh god, he might throw up if he attempts to get up.

he opens one eye and only sees a side table, his own phone plugged in and a clock showing 10:30. if he tries hard enough he can hear the faint sound of music and someone else’s steady breathing.

his eyebrows furrow as he tries to turn around without puking his brains out. once he’s flat on his back he opens an eye slowly and then the other. it takes less than a second to notice someone, a man, on a static bike in front of the bed.

“the fuck?” he says, his throat fucked up and sticky. “where am i?” he coughs and closes his eyes again, head falling back into the pillows.

the man doesn't answer, max hears the static bike turn on, digging into his temples. he squeezes his eyes shut and begs for it to stop, groaning when it only speeds up.

“morning,” he hears.

his eyes snap open in a gasp. he looks forward and actually looks at the man, shirtless in a static bike and holding two tennis balls. his silhouette is artistic against the sunlight as max barely makes out a smile from his face.

max coughs before he speaks, “hello?” he angles his head up a bit to get a look at the guy's face.

much of last night is a bit of a blur, but the longer he’s conscious, the more he remembers. he didn't intend to take anyone home, just needed a party, loud music, a chance to feel free in a city that he doesn't belong to.

he briefly remembers running into a guy with an absolutely gorgeous face in the hallway to the bathroom, which immediately turned to making out with him, first in the hallway, then on the dance floor, then in the cab, and finally– the details are pretty fuzzy, but he doesn't remember anything being unpleasant, and he isn’t sore or in pain in any ways that matter, anyway.

he looks at the guy, he’s all smooth lines and colourful ink, big smiles and curly hair. he takes his headphones out and puts them in their case, licking his lips as he looks at max, and he wants to gloat and how good of a job he did.

fucking score, he thinks in congratulations. usually the people he brings home from the club look great through tequila daze in the saturated neon lights, but aren’t too good in the morning sun. if anything though, this guy might be even cuter in the daylight. amazing.

“you feel okay?” he says, playing with the tennis balls in his hand, making something stir in max’s belly.

“yeah,” max groans. he rubs his temples with his eyes closed. “i think i forgot your name.”

the guy laughs, gets off the bike and stretches, his whole body twisting in a delicious way max is way too hungover to even think about. “that hurts my feelings, man.” he says, pads over to his kitchen, which is only a few feet from the bed. “it’s daniel.”

oh, max remembers now. remembers being wrapped around him and moaning his name. “yeah, sorry.”

daniel smiles at him again. “coffee?” he’s set to work and getting the pot ready as max sits up, nearly losing the blanket as it slips from him.

daniel’s all toned, gorgeous tan skin, a face that’s like max’s wettest dreams. even a bit ragged from the hangover, he’s still floored and he feels himself blush. his only saving grace is that daniel is also turning eight shades of red as he looks at him.

“i– i don't really…” he scrunches his mouth and rubs his hands on his face as he struggles to think, “i don’t like coffee, do you have anything else?”

daniel doesn’t miss a beat. “i have tea, if you'd prefer. green or black. does your head hurt?” he presses down on the french press and sets on re-filling the kettle.

“black is fine if– if i can have ice with it?” max bites his bottom lip and watches daniel’s back as he rummages through a cupboard to find two mugs and a teabag for max.

max looks around to find his clothes, his eyes betraying him again and staring at daniel shirtless instead.

“i hope i’m not too much of a disappointment in the light of day.” daniel says, turning around to face max, his eyes fixated on max’s chest as he struggles to cover himself.

max knows damn well daniel doesn’t mean that. that man is like a dream come true, all smiles and big eyes, sex hair and shorts riding down his hips. his words land just as he intends though. max locks eyes with him and rakes them over his body again. he really wants to stand up and put daniel against the countertop but he holds himself back.

“you’re great, i just….” he makes a sound in the back of his throat, hand flying to his face. he peeks between his fingers at daniel. “it’s the first time i– with a guy…” daniel stands a bit straighter as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“oh wow,” daniel says, smiling, “you seemed to know what you were doing.”

max laughs, his face hot and he knows it’s spreading down his chest. it seems to pull daniel into it as well. his laugh is even better than what max had expected, so contagious and genuine. max wonders if it was the laugh that drew him in to begin with.

“really?” their eyes met for a moment, the silence spreading out between them with an almost magnetic energy. just then the kettle shakes in its pot, yanking max out of the dreamy instant.

daniel turns it off and pour the steaming water over the tea bag for max. his eyes follow as max stands up, revealing his entire naked body as he hurries to put his underwear on over his hips. max can’t stand the heat of daniel’s eyes so he looks away as he puts his jans on and when he looks back daniel is bent over the freezer looking for some ice cubes.

he wonders how he got that lucky as he watches daniel place two ice cubes in his tea and then stir it one last time. “hope this is okay.” he says, motioning max to a barstool. “come here.”

he pads to the kitchen, he’s nearly the same height as daniel, though he’s broader. daniel passes him the overfull mug, and they fill the space of the little kitchen comfortably. their fingertips brush as the cup is transferred and somehow, it feels more intimate than the sex they had last night. daniel’s smile is so bright, his cheeks dipping into cute dimples. max hates to say it, but he’s very charmed.

“it’s totally fine if you regret this. hell, it’s the first time i get on with a straight guy,” daniel says, max can’t tell if he’s serious or not. they stare at each other for a long second and max can feel himself blushing under daniel’s eyes again.

“oh, i–” he says, drinking from his cup. “i’m not straight… i just have never…” he gestures between the two of them and daniel snickers. “i only regret not remembering everything.” he takes a deep breath, “i remember the kissing, and– and the car…”

the car. memory floods into max’s mind, still hazy and watered down, but he now remembers being all over daniel in the backseat, more hands than seemed possible for just two people. he remembers pulling daniel free of his jeans and sinking his mouth over him...yeah, it had been a good car ride. the problem is all the shots they had before, and after. and in between.

“and then… i don't know.” max bites his bottom lip and avoids daniel’s eyes. he can hear daniel’s smile before he sees it.

“it was great. you have nothing to be ashamed of.” he says and max’s eyes dart up again when they focus on daniel’s chest for too long.

“thank god,” he takes a sip from his drink. watching daniel’s face as he looks like he’s thinking hard.

“listen, you don't have to stay. we both know how these things go. you’re welcome to, but if you want to escape, i accept any excuse. we had a great time. you owe me nothing.” he lets out at once and sits down his coffee mug and leans back against the counter.

max’s eyes take a second to focus back from daniel’s body. daniel’s kicking him out. and he knows it’s a one night stand and he shouldn't feel weird about it, barely knowing him. but it’s there.

“daniel,” his voice is tentative, his head low and shoulders down, “do you want me to go?” daniel’s eyes flicker up, and for the first time max notices that they are almost golden in the sunlight.

“no.” daniel says softly, and max doesn't think twice as he sets his own mug down and slides closer to daniel with newfound confidence. making his breath hitch.

“then, maybe I can stay? and maybe, if you feel like it..." his fingertips brush against daniel’s arm and almost without blinking, daniel places his hand on his neck, sliding it back and up through his hair. “we could fill in some of those gaps?”

as daniel’s chest presses against his, noses brushing against one another, max smiles, a fluttering in his chest making it all the way to his toes. daniel’s even gorgeous from up close.

“sounds like a plan,” daniel kisses him then, softly, as if he’s trying to savour his mouth, and his hand cups max’s cheek sweetly. it’s far better than any fiery, lustful kiss max remembers they shared during the night. it says more than max can even comprehend.

when max pulls back, he takes in daniel’s face for a moment, a smile pulling beautifully at his lips. max feels his blush climb again and he tries to looks away, but daniel is holding his head in place.

“looks like you’re mine for the day.” daniel says, leaning forward to smile against max’s mouth.

my ao3!

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 59 Translation [Lucien’s Route (2/3)]

⚠️  SPOILER ALERT  ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow"... could he have already foreseen tonight's situation?

I will never allow anyone to hurt Lucien.

Translation under the cut!

[Previous Part-> Click Here]

—[Lucien's Route - 6: Crimson Stained Pool]—

Baldhead: Hey, you've all seen it, right? Tonight, we're going to kill that uncle!

As soon as night falls, Baldhead eagerly states his intention. We follow him towards the older man's room, but Mousy looks a bit confused.

Mousy: Why... is there something wrong with that uncle?

Baldhead: How can you be so dumb! That old man is indeed very active in discussions, and just like X said, it seems like he wants to have some control over the conversation.

Baldhead: But later, he didn't raise his hand immediately. Didn't you find that strange?

MC: Mm... it seems like he's a seer who isn't good at hiding his identity, subconsciously excluding himself from the "people who need to be verified.”

Baldhead: Not bad. MC gets it.

Baldhead: That old man is too unfamiliar with the game. He doesn't realize that we are watching every move he makes. Got it?

Under Baldhead's forceful words, Mousy only dares to nod timidly and follows our steps forward.

Tonight's operation was very successful. Everything goes smoothly, from opening the door to throwing the uncle into the pool.

Sweeping away the strange events of last night, the three of us werewolves see a look of satisfaction on each other's faces.

The clear water surface is dyed red again, and the pool emits that inexplicable light before dimming. I look at my two teammates.

MC: Today, I was the first to raise my hand. The others probably won't suspect me too much. So I plan to…

MC: ...take the uncle's place and act as the seer.

✂———————–

The next morning, there's a knock on the door again. I open it and effortlessly slip into the embrace of the person standing there.

MC: Hmm, I feel like my headache has eased... Is Professor Lucien still acting as the alarm clock in the game?

Lucien rubs my head and, seeing that I am indeed much better than yesterday, sighs softly and holds me even tighter.

Lucien: [chuckles softly] Yes. It's a hidden feature that's only available to a certain little lady who worries me.

I smile and bury my face in his chest. His shirt presses against my cheek, and his warm body temperature melts away all my stress.

Whenever I embrace Lucien, it seems I can break free from my werewolf role and reconnect with the real world.

At this moment, I only wish this moment could last a little longer.

✂———————–

When the butler knocks on the door for the third time, I reluctantly pull Lucien out of bed.

[....is 'doing it' possible in VR. anw man really sneak out so early to sleep together with her hjdfjhdfjdf-]

MC: Alas, it's time to go to the banquet hall for another "meeting" again~

MC: Such a magnificent banquet hall. It would be so nice just to eat and drink inside, but it's always a war of words every time.

Lucien straightens my crooked collar, unable to hold back a smile as he takes over the conversation.

Lucien: [chuckles] Indeed, it seems that in this villa, being the "butler" is much happier than being the "guest.”

Lucien: They neither "lose their life" nor miss the chance to enjoy the sea view every day.

As we pass the uncle's room, I see his name has already been crossed off the door plate. Lucien and I don't stop; we head straight to the banquet hall.

After the luncheon begins, I take a deep breath and stand up.

MC: Everyone, I am actually... a seer.

I say these words rather haltingly. Although I don't look at Lucien, I can feel his scrutinizing gaze.

.......This is really nerve-wracking; I'm so anxious.

Almost everyone present holds their breath, watching me and waiting for my words. I compose my expression, speaking in a serious tone.

MC: On the first night, I checked White Angel. She is a good person, so I didn't rush to reveal my identity.

MC: And yesterday, the uncle was very active but didn't raise his hand immediately, so I found him suspicious.

MC: I checked him last night, and the result showed he was human. I planned to clear his name today but didn't expect him to become the werewolves' target.

MC: Although I haven't identified a werewolf yet, I'm afraid that if I don't reveal my identity today, I might be replaced by a werewolf…

Baldhead: Wait a minute, you say you're the seer? Who knows if it's true or not!

Baldhead: Is there another seer here? If so, speak up!

Baldhead questioned me as I planned to solidify my identity. Sure enough, no one else steps forward.

.......We bet correctly! The uncle really was the true seer!

I try to control my racing heartbeat and calmly observe the reactions of the others.

Angel: If MC were lying, the actual seer would have come forward. There's no mistake. She is the seer.

White Angel is a petite girl. After speaking, she looks at me with a smile, her eyes showing evident affection and trust.

I smile back at her, barely able to contain the overwhelming joy inside me.

Let's let it unfold this way. Now that there's no one to contradict it, no one can expose this "lie" that has become an established fact!

Joker: Anyone could be a wolf, and everyone could be lying.

Joker speaks coldly, pouring cold water on my overwhelming joy without mercy.

Joker: To place all your trust in an unverifiable statement is the height of foolishness.

MC: …..

I secretly grit my teeth. I know that he wouldn't let me off the hook so easily!

I hold back my anger and calmly return a smile at him, but suddenly, a long-haired man on my right side stands up.

Long-haired man: My intuition tells me that MC is lying. We should vote her out!

MC: …..?

Long-haired man: When she mentioned the inspection results, it was as smooth as if she had rehearsed it. Her emotions were clearly acted out!

His eyes are filled with conviction, and his tone is rhythmic and compelling…

If only his rousing words weren't directed at me.

I nervously organize my rebuttal, and even my breathing becomes messy.

How come so many people in this game seem to have mind-reading abilities? How are we ordinary people supposed to keep playing?!

Lucien: Can you listen to my thoughts first?

At that moment, Lucien suddenly breaks the stalemate, standing between me and the long-haired man like a fair and just judge.

Lucien: Voting for execution is the only way to punish the wolf in the game. You can't make a decision based solely on revealed roles or doubts.

Lucien: However, the associated risks cannot be ignored. So, for this vote, please consider which person would benefit the current human faction more.

His words are neither biased nor include his judgment; he simply organizes everyone's thoughts.

I look at Lucien; his gaze is as clear as ever, without any unnecessary emotions.

Because of my prolonged gaze, he even tilts his head slightly as if asking me what's wrong.

I force a smile at him, trying my best to ignore the strange feeling in my heart.

Lucien... he must be secretly speaking up for me, right?

After all, under his guidance, the focus of the discussion has shifted from whether my role as a seer is real or fake to whether the long-haired man or I should be voted for.

The long-haired man clearly did not expect to become a suspect himself, and his voice is filled with frustration.

Long-haired man: I've been a stage actor; you shouldn't doubt my professional judgment! Do you think I can't tell the difference between acting and reality?

After a moment of silence in the room, Zhao Jianqiang, whose nameplate read “Strongman” ("Qiang Lai Le"), cautiously glanced at me and spoke.

[T/N: so……… how do I explain this joke? "Qiang Lai Le" comes from the phrase "你的强来了" (nǐ de qiáng láile), which literally means "Your strength is here." It's a buzzword that roughly translates to "I'm here to support you." This perfectly coincides with Zhao Jianqiang stepping in to support the MC right on time~]

Zhao Jianqiang: But if you're an actor, shouldn't your acting skills be better? According to what you're saying, you yourself seem more suspicious…

Angel: The person that she checked last night died this morning, and she still needs to disclose their identity. If it were me, I would also need to prepare a statement in advance.

Granmeow: Reality isn't a script. It's natural for people to get nervous when they're suspected.

The man with long hair's face turns extremely unpleasant. No matter how much he argues, others only become more firm in their thoughts.

The final outcome is beyond doubt; he becomes today's victim.

This time, people left the banquet hall early, one after another. After all, no one wants to see such cruel scenes again.

I turn around and take a glance. The man with long hair has already disappeared into the pool. I then turn back and walk towards Lucien.

Lucien doesn't mention the "bloodbath" at the banquet. He simply raises his arm, inviting me to join him.

Lucien: There's still some time until nightfall. Do you want to explore the mansion together?

MC: Of course!

I loop my arm through his, deciding to cast aside the worries in my heart and savor the rare moment of being together with Lucien.

Outside the window, the clouds press lower and lower, blending the sky and the sea into one in the mist.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 7: Unspoken Feelings]—

Lucien and I walk along the intricately decorated corridors of the mansion, occasionally encountering other players who are also searching.

When we run into Zhao Jianqiang, I notice his complexion is a bit pale.

MC: [worriedly] Why do you look so pale? Do you need to rest?

Zhao Jianqiang: I'm fine, boss, just a bit of a headache…

MC: .......I also feel a headache, "Carnival Night" is quite a brain teaser to play.

I make sure he doesn't have any other symptoms for the time being and reluctantly feel a bit relieved. After asking the butler to help him rest, I continue on my way.

Although the mansion covers a vast area, there isn't much valuable information to be found.

Lucien and I stroll to the master's room. The tightly closed door is pushed open, and the heavy, wet sound echoes for a long time.

We both instinctively hold our breath and stand still.

In the pure white space, all that can be seen are clear waters. Rather than a bedroom, this place resembles an abandoned swimming pool.

The pool water gently ripples as if whispering or subtly warning, exuding an indescribable sense of cold and desolate beauty.

The snow-white walls and the bottom of the pool reflect a cool-toned light, and the space ahead seems like an endless liminal space.

Standing at the pool's edge, I suddenly feel an inexplicable attraction and deep fear, almost uncontrollably wanting to step into the water.

A hand wraps around my waist from behind, lifting me slightly off the ground. My toes trace a light circle in the air before I return to the floor.

MC: ….!

It is only then that I come to my senses and look at Lucien.

His gaze falls on the calm and mysterious blue pool water, then he looks at me and blinks somewhat pitifully.

Lucien: Does this lady want to explore alone and not take me with her?

Whenever Lucien speaks to me in this tone, my heart becomes completely soft.

So, I quickly dip my hand into the pool and sprinkle some water near Lucien.

MC: How could I not? Of course, I have to bring our Mr. Hunter along!

MC: I always feel like this mansion is so mysterious... Maybe there are some secrets hidden deep in this room as well.

MC: Will you go into the water with me to take a look?

Lucien and I intertwine our fingers together, and we slowly step into the pool, letting the cool water surround our ankles.

Step by step, we move forward. The pool water gradually rises to our knees, then our waists, gently pushing against our bodies as if guiding us to go deeper.

Lucien: Be careful, there are steps here.

After stepping over the underwater steps, the water reaches just below my chest. This is nearly the lowest point of the room, and my foot suddenly hits something hard.

Lucien reaches out and retrieves it. It's a metal box filled with yellowed pages that seem out of place in this mansion.

What is even more surprising is that the pages are completely dry, and they recorded some legends about an ancient underwater god and some incomprehensible ancient rituals.

A secluded mansion built by the seaside, with water visible everywhere inside, had an execution method of throwing people into the pool…

A series of clues appeared in my mind, and although they seem all related to my personal mission, they still leave me a little puzzled.

I hide my thoughts and cautiously phrase my question to Lucien.

MC: I don't quite fully understand all this information. Could this mansion be related to some kind of water ritual?

In the boundless pool, cool-toned light dances around us. The surroundings are so silent that only our faint breathing and the rippling of the water can be heard.

Lucien spreads out his hands and reaches into the pool water as if feeling this calm yet eerie expanse.

Lucien: These texts describe an ancient water ritual, and the design of the water channels in this mansion is also related to it.

He gently scoops up a handful of water and lets it fall back down, causing the light and shadows in the water to shift accordingly.

Lucien: I guess that with each person pushed into the water, a part of the ritual is completed.

MC: ...No wonder, when those people fell into the water, it was as if they were swallowed up by something, and the water emitted light!

Lucien: Hmm. So as long as we can draw the design of all the water channels connected in this mansion, we might be able to understand some things.

A meaningful smile appears on his lips, making me unable to resist asking further questions.

MC: Understand what?

Lucien: The truth behind the ongoing werewolf killings in this villa, the consequences of completing the ritual, and…

Lucien: The reason why the mansion's owner has yet to appear.

I am listening intently to his deductions while secretly plotting how to sacrifice everyone in the ritual.

But upon hearing the last sentence, I suddenly feel so guilty that I almost buckle and fall into the water. Quickly, I lower my head and change the subject.

MC: T-this is so dangerous! Let's quickly map out the pool structures in all the rooms and have everyone look for patterns together.

Lucien, who is standing in front of me, says nothing. When I look up, I realize he is silently gazing at me, his expression stern and cold.

Lucien: There is another possibility; perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow.

MC: ….

I understand what Lucien means. Given his role as a hunter and outstanding performance over the past few days, tonight, he will likely be the werewolves' target.

I look at his faint, acquiescent expression, and suddenly, a heaviness settles in my heart.

I know that Lucien must have noticed my unusual behavior long ago.

I have never been good at lying in front of him. He must have already discovered the nights I secretly hid and the moments I was startled by my own cruelty.

I don't know how to respond to him. I should appear worried, but I want to tell him that the vicious "werewolf" never intended to kill him.

I also don't know whether I should continue enduring alone and playing this slightly strange role or be honest with him about everything.

Various possibilities tug at my mind, leaving me frozen in place. I don't know what expression is on my face, but it must be very odd.

A moist finger touches my cheek, and I tremble. I see that Lucien has already come to stand before me at some point.

Immediately after, he opens his arms and envelops me in a hug, covering up the response that I can't weave.

Lucien: [softly sighs, then whispers gently to comfort] Don't be afraid, we will make it to the end.

Amid the hallucinatory light reflections of the water, I am entranced, silently confiding all my anxieties and worries to Lucien through the long embrace.

✂———————–

["Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow." MAN 🤧🤧🤧 In addition to trying to probe her again, just like when he asked if she would lie to him, he predicted that other werewolves would definitely pressure MC. The outcome of this night would give him some kind of answer, and he couldn't help but secretly feel unease and grievance, which ultimately turned into a soft sigh as he comforted her again. No matter what, he will still respect her choice.]

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 8: Heart Cleansing Cold Spring]—

Baldhead: Why are you thinking about killing Joker again? Did you forget that he was already guarded before? It's all for nothing!

As night falls, Baldhead and I engage in a heated debate over tonight's target for execution.

MC: I revealed myself as a seer during the day, so tonight, the guardian will protect me. Joker is too dangerous, he can't stay.

Baldhead: Then why not kill X? He's so clever. If we leave him till later, it's us werewolves who'll be the victims!

Baldhead: With so many people left, even if X takes someone out with a gunshot before he dies, it might not necessarily be us.

I endure the headache and listen silently, but suddenly, I recall the words Lucien said to me during the day.

"Perhaps we won't be able to see each other tomorrow"... could he have already foreseen tonight's situation?

I will never allow anyone to hurt Lucien.

From the beginning of the game, I've been very clear about my purpose in choosing this game.

Regardless of our roles, winning or losing this game doesn't matter. I want to walk through this game with him until the end.

I take a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible.

MC: You must have noticed that X and Joker have a distinctly different attitude towards me.

MC: Joker always shifts the suspicion onto me, while X often speaks up for me. It should be clear who should stay and who should go, right?

As soon as I finish speaking, Baldhead glances at me sideways, pulling a contemptuous smile.

Baldhead: You’re dressing your selfish motives with such grandiose words. Don't think I don't know—you and X know each other, right?

Baldhead: Every time you explore, you two are always together like conjoined twins, never separate. You just want to ensure he can be in the game for a few more days.

I instantly get angry and can't help but clench my fists. Because of self-righteous people like this, I've been having such a hard time playing!

As the atmosphere grows tense, Mousy weakly raises his hand.

Mousy: Um, how about we give up on these two and target someone we are sure to succeed with? After all, reducing the number of humans is our main goal…

We remain at an impasse for a long time, and in the end, we reluctantly draw lots from the remaining candidates and target the inconspicuous Granmeow.

Before we part, Baldhead stands before me and laughs mockingly without a care.

Baldhead: Now, let's see how the “fake seer" will come up with a story tomorrow!

✂———————–

Back in my room, I can't help but angrily pound the bed to vent my frustration.

MC: Damn it, it turns out that he looks down on me!

I toss and turn in anger, but there's nothing I can do because that person is my teammate. It’s only just before dawn that I finally manage to get some sleep.

However, I hadn't slept for long when the door was knocked on. I got up, still sleepy, and found that it was only 6:30 AM.

As soon as I open the door, Lucien walks in, opens his arms, and hugs me.

I initially want to say something, but when he holds me, the exhaustion and headache seem no longer need to be expressed with words.

I can't help but nuzzle his shoulder and mumble as I start to speak.

MC: Why is Professor Lucien the alarm clock going off so early today?

His chest is pressed close to mine and trembles like a resonating violin. Lucien's voice carries an unconcealed note of laughter.

[a fox wagging his tail happily when he finds out in the morning that his wife still wants to play with him.jpg. still, in addition to happiness, he is even more worried about her because it must be hard for her to protect him🤧]

Lucien: When I woke up this morning and found I was still alive, I felt that the little lady might have some troubles.

Remembering the argument with my teammate last night, I have the illusion of being completely seen through by him. So, I look up and poke the smile at the corner of his lips with my fingertip.

MC: It seems Professor Lucien is very happy?

Lucien shakes his head, his long fingers running through my hair, bringing a feeling of comfort to my heart.

Lucien: [in a gentle tone] Although I'm very happy, I'm more worried about you. How are you? Does your head still hurt?

Seeing me nod, he gently presses my forehead, the pressure so comforting it touches my heart. I lie quietly on him, unable to help but sigh.

MC: It's much better now, but... this game is more challenging than I thought. I don't know who I'll have to check next.

Lucien speaks softly by my ear.

Lucien: [whispers softly] Sometimes, to achieve a goal, it is necessary to sacrifice an unstable presence.

Upon hearing his whisper, my relaxed body feels as if it's been jolted by cold water, bringing me to full alertness.

An unstable presence...? This phrase sounds like a subtle hint, making me feel that Lucien truly knows something.

I can't help but look at him, and in those always captivating eyes, there is now only a gentle yet turbulent undercurrent reflected.

Outside the window, raindrops hit the glass, leaving behind glistening trails. After days of cloudy weather, the rain finally fell on the island.

✂———————–

The thunderous sound of waves crashing against the rocks comes from all directions, shaking the entire villa as if it were about to swallow the isolated island whole.

In the banquet hall, I stand up amidst the heavy and terrifying sound of ocean waves.

MC: Last night, I checked the Ferocious and Superior Baldhead. Unfortunately, he is a werewolf.

My accusation sparks a heated discussion, and I stand firmly amidst the flurry of voices.

Just as Lucien said, sacrifice is necessary, especially if it means sacrificing a "bad person.”

Baldhead: Nonsense!

Baldhead's face is full of disbelief as he pushes back his chair and stands up, his chest heaving violently.

Baldhead: This is a setup! I've always been human! How can you say that? You are the wolf!

I know, but so what? Aren't you curious about how I, the "fake seer," will perform today? This is my answer.

I look at him expressionlessly, my tone cold.

MC: As a seer, I'm merely stating the results of my checks.

Baldhead: You!

In the thunderstorm, the flickering cold light covers Baldhead's face, making his expression appear even more ferocious.

A twinge of fear arises in my heart, and I hear Lucien beside me start to speak thoughtfully with his calm voice.

Lucien: Hmm... I see.

Lucien: In the previous rounds of voting, he seemed to use emotional statements to guide the situation but quickly withdrew, avoiding decisive comments.

Lucien: His votes were also decisive, without any hesitation.

Lucien: This way of disrupting the situation without leaving any evidence does indeed seem like…

Lucien swallows the unfinished end of his sentence, and this pause clearly gives people more room for imagination. The others look at Baldhead with increasing conviction in their eyes.

Zhao Jianqiang: He... is the werewolf, isn't he?

Angel: There's no mistake. I trust MC.

More and more people believe that he is the wolf, the evil wolf mingling among the good people.

Baldman’s face is flushed red with anger, and I can even see his teeth gritting through his gaze.

Joker: Even if he is the wolf, you are not necessarily the seer.

Joker suddenly speaks, standing up while leaning on the back of the chair. His emotionless tone clearly conveys his distrust.

Joker: There is also a third possibility.

The Joker squints his eyes, his gaze circles between Baldhead and me, and finally returns to me.

Joker: It’s a dog-eat-dog* situation, a wolf kills another wolf.

[T/N: while 狗咬狗 literally mean “dog-bite-dog”, it's more of a metaphor for the struggle and fighting between bad guys]

MC: ….?

Joker: All of you subconsciously ignored a possibility. The real seer might have already died, and she is a fake.

Joker: If you later find out that the seer you firmly believed in is actually a wolf, there will be no turning back.

On the surface, I smile disdainfully, but in reality, I feel exhausted. He has guessed everything correctly.

Joker really should have been dealt with earlier! He will be executed tonight!

I don't dare let his words go unchallenged for fear that the people present might turn their suspicion towards me, so I can only speak up with “righteous indignation”.

MC: ....After saying so much, where is the evidence? It can't all be your subjective conjecture, right?

MC: Since I revealed my identity as a seer, no one has ever tried to "compete" with me for this identity.

MC: And Baldhead has never made any notable speeches; even if there were a vote, it would never come to him-

I take a deep breath, desperately and silently think of my words, then say them out loud with conviction.

MC: If we are all wolves, as you say, we should be biding our time and hiding our strength even more——

MC: Instead of throwing mud at each other at this moment, causing unnecessary losses to our own faction, right?

I speak convincingly, while Joker remains aloof, indifferently throwing a word.

Joker: Whatever.

In the end, those who were initially hesitant still tend to trust me.

The attendant drags the constantly struggling Baldhead toward the pool. Until the moment he falls into the water, he stubbornly looks at me, his eyes filled with hatred.

I do not respond to his gaze; I simply watch as the clear pool water is once again stained bright red.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 9: Lectures About "Dreams” (Non-story/a.k.a Stage part)]—

The closest dream represents the most distant thing.

✂———————–

[Next Part-> Click Here]

[love-in-the-time]

Doctor/Donna Tropes, Part 1: Co-Sleep

I've had this idea seeing all the posts since the 60th about what the Doctor's life is like with Donna.

Title: Co-Sleep Author: love-in-the-time Rating: Harmless Summary: Donna hasn't slept properly in fifteen years. Some nights she woke up crying, others she never closed her eyes at all. The Doctor sleeps too little for anyone, human or alien. Takes place post-I Get To Keep You, which is my first Fourteen/Donna and establishes their life together at his house in France.

You know, I initially thought the intention was for him to live on the TARDIS parked in her back garden but Russell says he bought a house in France? So I went with that??? So assume this takes place in that house in France. Timeline is during the first days of Donna moving in permanently.

About two o' clock in the morning, Donna comes to stand in his doorway, holding a pillow. He looks up from his book, his glasses perched on his nose, his ankles crossed. "Hello," he says, grinning. He looks like any other bloke, aside from the wild hair, which never seems to lie flat except when it's wet.

"Wotcher," Donna says, coming to climb into his bed beside him.

"What d'you want, then?" he asks playfully. Donna settles herself on her knees, facing him alongside his outstretched legs.

"I've come to have a look at you," she pronounces, unable to contain her giant smile, "because you have come back to me and you look the fucking same and I can't get me head 'round it, and I want to look at you."

"Look away," he says, abandoning his book. "I'm at your service." He opens his hands in front of her. In response, Donna moves closer on her knees, leaning forward to inspect his face. She's so close he's expecting her to kiss him. And she does take a long look at his mouth.

"You still have that lower lip," she says. "Turned down, ever so slightly. Always thought that was nice." Her eyes roam over his face, taking him in intently. "The same eyes, how the fuck did you do that?"

"I wanted you to see me and know me so you would love me," he says simply, and she smiles.

"Sentimental git," she says affectionately. "I adore this face."

"I know," he says.

Her blue eyes focus on his. "You look older," she says, as solemnly as the first time.

"Lived longer," he says simply. 'Come here." He puts a hand on her hip and she climbs into his lap, embracing him loosely and proprietarily. He rests his hands on her behind. "So? What do you see, Donna Noble?"

He sees that she's really looking, and waits for her to answer. She tilts her head. "I see a face I love so much and never thought I'd see again," she says contemplatively. "I see pain." She caresses his cheek. "I see love. I see exhaustion. I see hope."

"I feel all those things," he says.

"I see wanting," Donna says, and he huffs a little laugh out his nose. "And I think I see relief." His hands flex on her behind. "When was the last time you slept?" she asks, because she knows him so well.

"I have no idea," he says, smiling at her ruefully. She gives him an exasperated look.

"Thought you'd get more sleep around here," she says. "Thought I'd be a bit more useful to you that way."

"We used to sleep on the TARDIS," the Doctor says, his eyes full of the memory.

"Yeah, we did," Donna says. "And you got this house so you could do that here too." She smooths a hand across his forehead. "D'you want to go sleep on the TARDIS?"

"Nah," he says. "This bed's as good as any, isn't it?"

"Are you tired?"

"Not when I have time to spend with you," he says immediately.

"Well, Spaceman, I like to sleep," she says, and shifts off his lap so she can lean against him in the circle of his arm.

"Is that why you came in here?" he asks. "To sleep?"

"Didn't want to sleep alone," she says, and then smiles at him suggestively. "Disappointed?"

"Nah," he says. "Not like you wouldn't be panting for it if I got you started."

"Well. Truth is truth," Donna shrugs. She pulls his blankets out from under him, covering them both. "Don't mind me," she says. "I just wanted to be in here with you." She rests her head on his chest.

Instead of going back to his book, the Doctor burrows down into his covers a bit more, and they both lay their heads on a pillow, facing each other. "I'd rather talk to you," he says.

Donna smiles, still so pretty sideways and lying down, her red hair draped over the pillow underneath her like a sheet of silk. "Right then," she says. "What about?"

"I dunno," he says, his eyes roaming her face. "Anything. Tell me about the day Rose was born."

"Oh," Donna says. "That was a very good day." She smiles gently at the memory. "She was late, my girl. I was four days overdue and I was livid." The Doctor huffs a little laugh at that. "I went into labor around six in the morning. I was with Shaun in the house until I couldn't take it anymore and he took me to the hospital about noon. And then I was in labor for thirty more hours." The Doctor grimaces. "They said if she didn't come in a day or so they'd give me an emergency c-section, but eventually she decided to come out. She was born about eleven AM two days after I went into labor. And she was perfect, and she was mine." The Doctor can see the love in her eyes, the shining pride for her daughter that Donna holds so dear because she was deprived of it herself.

"Was she a good baby?"

"Very," Donna says. "I hardly slept those days anyway so I was always up with her, and we were best friends even back then." Her face changes, a look of profound sadness. “I wish you had been there to see her.”

“Me too,” he says. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She composes herself quickly enough, shaking her head a little. “Anyway, she grew and she grew and she became the glorious creature you see today, and she is my pride and my joy, and I am very lucky.” Her smile is laced through with an ancient, heartbreaking pain. "I love her better than my mother ever loved me, and that's the lesson I learnt from my childhood. Never let them feel like you were made to feel."

"I love you better than your mother or anyone else has ever done," he says. "So now you never have to feel that way again."

Donna's eyes are a little teary. "Oh, Spaceman, that's an old, old pain," she says. "Some things take as long to heal as they did to inflict. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he says. "Well. Why don't we change the topic? Something a little lighter? Actually," he says, sitting up. "I have an idea. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." He gets up out of the bed, adjusting his pajamas. "See you in a minute."

"Where are you going?" Donna asks, sitting up immediately.

"To a store," he says. "I'll be back, don't worry." He puts a jacket over his pajamas and is out the door before Donna can ask anymore questions. She hears the TARDIS wheezing from the garden and thinks that she'll never quite recover from him leaving in it without her. But he keeps his promise-- he's back in a little more than ten minutes, holding a black plastic shopping bag.

"What's all this then?" Donna asks, and he overturns the bag. Onto the bed spill out several colorful packets and a glass tube with a pre-rolled joint in it. "Oh, Spaceman!" she says. "You brought us a party!"

He hands her one of the packets. It's a Quality Street mix, ten pieces at 100 milligrams of THC per piece of candy. There is a box of Smarties, 10 milligrams per candy, and a packet of Jelly Babies, six in a packet at 100 milligrams of THC each. Donna smiles from ear to ear. "Where did you get all this?" she asks.

"New York City," he says. "It's legal and there are tons of places to go."

Donna picks up the Jelly Babies. "How did you find British candy in New York?"

"Specialist dispensary," he shrugs, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Shall we?"

"Which do I take?" Donna asks. "They all look very appealing."

"I would say one of the 100 milligram sweets would be more than enough," the Doctor says. "Probably put you to sleep."

Donna picks out a green triangle from the Quality Street mix and pops it in her mouth. "Delicious," she says. "Which one do you want?"

In response he opens the Jelly Babies and downs them all. Donna's eyebrows go sky-high. "What?" he says. "I'm not human, it takes a lot more of these Earth chemicals to get me stoned."

"But it'll work?" Donna asks.

"Oh, yes," he says. "Don't you worry."

For about an hour they sit around discussing the methods by which game shows structure their scoring systems, until Donna starts to smile uncontrollably.

"Donna, probability tables aren't funny," the Doctor says.

"You look so fucking adorable explaining all this stupid maths shite to me!" Donna says, reaching out to pinch his cheeks gently. "You fucking alien! What the fuck are you doing here?"

He laughs. "Oh, I see," he says affectionately. "The THC is activating, Donna Noble."

"Ain't it just," Donna says, absolutely beaming. "Hello, Spaceman. It's been far too long since I got to say that. Hello, Spaceman."

He can feel the edges of his consciousness softening with the 600 milligrams he'd taken. Should do the trick, he thinks. "Hello, Donna," he says back. "You look absolutely smashing, if I may say it."

"Do I?" she asks, preening outrageously. "I've even put me lotion on already, so me elbows are smooth."

"Ah, that's elegant," he says. "Could always count on you for elegance and restraint."

Donna absolutely falls about laughing at the look on his face. "Shaun can't make me laugh like this," she says, and then sits up straight, her face changed immediately. "Oh," she says. "That came out a bit easy."

The Doctor's face is a mix of smugness and joy and love. "Ah, you can say it to me, remember? State secrets. Your husband's a bore."

"Not my husband anymore," Donna says, sighing. Then she shrugs. "Well, I'm not interested in marriage anymore anyway."

"Good," the Doctor says. "Because I have no intention of marrying you."

"Good," Donna says, equally firmly, both of them trying not to smile too much. "Don't want to marry you."

"Good," the Doctor says again.

"Long as you fuck me the way you do I'm very happy," Donna says. "Don't give a shite about a ring."

"Oh, don't worry," he tells her. "The fucking's on offer. Free and unlimited. Whatever you want." He takes a great deep breath. "I think the THC... is activating in me."

"Marvelous, join me," Donna says. "S'nice up here." She fists the soft duvet in both hands and says, "C'mere. I want you." It's a sentence she has not said for a long, long time, but it is at the forefront of her memory now.

So he gets back under the covers with her and she bats his hands away from her breasts, giggling. "Wait," she says. "I'll shag you later. I told you a story, you tell me one."

"What about?" he asks. His eyes look heavy-lidded and happy.

"About... about a Spaceman and an Earthgirl who found each other three times," Donna says. "And this time they're not letting go."

There is a small pause. "I think you just told the story yourself," the Doctor says. Donna huffs a little laugh.

"Maybe I did," she says. "And look, it had a happy ending. Love that." She pokes him gently. "I told you a long time ago there are no happy endings except with you."

He smiles. "Goritania. You did look very fetching in all that princess gear, you know. And teaching your ladies to read, very hot."

"I know you liked those corsets and necklines," Donna says ruefully. "Stupid fucking Rudolph."

"No man is good enough for my Donna," he repeats to her out of their memories together.

"That's why I'm here," she says.

There is a long pause where they both kind of just settle into each other. Then the Doctor says, "I have an idea."

"Do tell."

“I have a hidden talent,” the Doctor tells her, looking mysterious.

“You never,” Donna says, widening her eyes. “What is it, then?”

“I can summon a snake,” he says.

“No, I don’t want a snake in our bed,” Donna says. 

“No, not a real snake, Donna,” he says. “A fake snake.”

“Well, that’s not nearly as good,” Donna says.

“Don’t be so sure!”

“Right, then, let’s see.”

“No, you’ve doubted my talents and my truth telling.”

“Do it,” Donna says.

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor says, crossing his arms under the blanket.

“You wanker,” Donna says. “Show me the snake.”

“No,” he says again, smiling at her.

“Show me!” she says again, poking his arm. “Show me the snake! Spaceman!”

He bursts out laughing alongside her. “I shan’t!”

“Spaceman!” Donna exclaims again. “Show me the snake!” She’s laughing so hard she can hardly catch her breath. “Show it!”

“Okay, okay,” the Doctor says, and turns away from her to adjust his hands into a shape. She can hear him laughing to himself. When he turns back to her his hands are formed into a snake head shape, and Donna positively screams with laughter. He opens his fingers and his pinkies are protruding like a snake’s tongue, and Donna wheezes.

“Oh, my god!” she cries, wiping her eyes. “Fucking hell. That’s fucking hilarious.”

The Doctor drops his hands, delighted to see Donna laughing so hard and so freely. “I told you,” he says, when he stops laughing so hard. “Hidden talent.”

“Oh, god,” she says. “That was amazing. Where did you learn that?”

The Doctor shrugs. “You pick random things up over the years.”

“Well, a hidden talent indeed,” Donna says. “Impressive.”

“Thank you,” he says. “How are you feeling on that 100 milligrams?”

“Like everything is amazing, I have exactly what I want, and I can actually feel it?” Donna says, stretching a bit against him. “I’m so used to being behind that wall of sadness. It’s work to come out from under it and actually live in the moment. I’ve been working on that.”

“Hard to do,” he agrees. “Lots to brood about.”

“Yes, says the Broodmaster himself,” Donna says. 

“Yes, I’m the expert,” he says. “Take it from me.”

"Well, this was the perfect idea," Donna says. "I have needed the chance to break through all these emotions and just be for a while, you know?Just breathe." Once again it occurs to her that she had witnessed him literally split himself and his consciousness and his body in two. And it was in her mind almost as soon as it happened that this face, this man out of her past, he was supposed to go with her when it was over. He didn't figure it out until later, but his face-- Donna will never forget the grief mixed with hope, the thin, sad face with eyes she never forgot.

"What're you thinking about?" he asks.

"Everything," Donna says, and he huffs a little laugh of recognition.

"Yeah," he says.

"Those doubles of us, on the ship," Donna begins.

"Yeah?"

"They were sexy."

He laughs out loud. "Right!"

"No, they were!" Donna says. "I didn't know that's what I look like. Would've been fun to see them shag."

The Doctor laughs even harder. "Fair," he says. "I'd watch."

"Right? Observational," Donna says. "For research."

"Well, they were soulless, amoral beings bent on destruction, so the best they would have gotten from it if we let them go was slaughter an entire planet and fuck on top of the remains and we all know that isn't on," he points out.

"A good point well made," Donna shrugs. "Still. I'd like to have seen if he was like you all the way down."

"Oh, he'd be a convincing fake at best," the Doctor says.

"Of course," Donna says. "Two heartbeats, two blood sources, for only one cock... just... it's a natural marvel."

"You'd be well busy if you had both of us," he says.

"Nah," Donna says. "My double would keep you both entertained for hours."

"I don't want the fake," he says immediately. "Authentic article only. Couldn't get hard for a fake, two hearts or no." He thinks back to when he'd first lost her, all those lifetimes ago, how he'd sought out any redhead woman, anyone, how he'd had sex with this girl who looked so much like Donna, a stranger he didn't know and who he'd overpaid with a guilty conscience and left in Edwardian London where he found her. The madness with Elizabeth, who, no matter how hard he tried to see Donna in her, never quite measured up. Even Amy, beautiful Amy who his new self had loved so much, was not Donna.

"How would you know?" Donna asks.

The Doctor brings his face very close to hers. "I would always know," he says. He is firm. "You've spent fifteen years on this planet trapped with the wrong man and a life you were settling for," he adds. "I would know you anywhere."

"You wouldn't shag your clone?" she asks.

"No, isn't that masturbation?" he asks.

"What? No, it's a whole separate being," she says.

"Yeah, but it's myself. So if I fucked my clone wouldn't I just be fucking myself, which is masturbation?"

"Not if it's a separate being," Donna says. "If I shagged the Not-Me--"

"I'd watch that," the Doctor says immediately, and Donna smiles.

"I bet you would, you Martian pervert."

"I'm not a pervert, I'm a sexually-mature adult being and you are a person who is both extremely fuckable and someone I love, so it's rational."

"If I shagged the Not-Me," Donna continues. "It's still a separate body, even if it's a copy of my body, it's a copy. I wouldn't feel what I was doing to her."

"She would, and I would love to see it," he says.

"D'you think he could do all the same stuff as you?" Donna asks.

"Probably."

"That's not good when you zoom out."

" That's right," he says. "So they had to go."

"Wild, though," Donna says. "You know the double of me was really a double of the DoctorDonna," she says after a short pause.

"Yeah," he says. "I know."

"Also not good when you zoom out."

"No," he says. "Again, the genuine article."

"I still don't think it qualifies as masturbation," Donna says.

"I remember you left your video link on for me sometimes," he says. "On the TARDIS."

Donna smiles. "Little show for you, Spaceman."

"And in the shower," he says.

"I like the way you look at me," Donna admits, biting her lip.

"I'll look at you right now, I don't even know why you wear clothes around me anyway," he says.

Donna yawns, burying her face in his shirt. "I just love that you're wearing actual bloke pajamas," she says. "Just pajama trousers and a t-shirt like a normal bloke."

"It's not comfortable to sleep in a suit, is it?" he says. "The tie gets caught up and all. The shoes on the bed and whatnot. It's just too much."

Donna laughs. She shifts herself and climbs astride him, both of them fully clothed and comfortably stoned, and he folds up to accommodate her, his hands going right back to their usual spot on her hips. "I want to go to sleep," she tells him, and kisses him a few little times. She moves to his cheeks and his forehead and one on top of his head, and puts her fingertips to his temples. He does the same to her so they can communicate, and feel what effect THC has on their connection.

It feels good, they both agree, more loose and sensual, as if their consciousness has developed a sense of touch. Might be nice to get some sleep, he comments in their minds.

You think?

To defend myself, you are also not asleep at three in the morning.

These are my favorite hours, she tells him. Before you came back for me I used to spend these wee hours with Rosie when she was a newborn. We would sit with each other and I would read books and sing little songs and I'd make up poems. Sometimes we watched telly.

I'm glad I came back.

Donna moves so that her hips are flush against him. When I sleep off this chocolate, I'm going to positively jump you.

What, not now?

No, I'm tired.

Okay, tomorrow.

Donna's laugh is out loud and he smiles with her, both their eyes closed. She makes a few leisurely circles of her hips against his and he responds. She gives him one more kiss and climbs off him, settling herself next to him under the covers. She turns onto her stomach, which is how he knows she really means to sleep as she always slept that way, and tugs his sleeve gently. "Give it a try," she says. "For me."

So he pulls her against him, her back to his front, wraps an arm around her, and says, "For you."

Donna is asleep fairly quickly after that, but it takes him a while longer of convincing himself he'd benefit more from the sleep and the proximity with Donna, so desperately needed, than he would sitting in a silent house in the middle of the night.

He sleeps.

[andieanderson-writes]

Writing about Nanami based on a dream I had about him this morning to cope with the emptiness of him being a fictional character when I woke up:

Note: first-person pov, female reader, not edited, sickeningly sweet and lovey-dovey.

The Hands that hold you

Many things had hands. For example, the huge clock I was staring at had hands much like what it showed; Time too had hands. The hands of time were cruel and fast, only seeming to stop when its misfortunes have been said and done; stopping to let the pain sink in.

Even now, time stood still in the empty train station. I'd rushed over as soon as I'd heard the news flash about the chaos at Shibuya station. Something was eerily off earlier today, but as midnight approached, the dread settled into empty calmness, void of any emotional charge in the air besides stillness. Yellow light reflected off the walls and tiles and silver benches at the station. Empty, of course. Everyone who had survived the mysterious attack had rushed home... except me.

Madly, I had rushed to the scene of discord rather than from it. Crazy, isn't it? But that's what love makes you do, crazy, stupid things. And right now, the crazy, stupid thing I was doing was waiting for a certain stoic, strong blond as my knee bounced in anticipation, fingernails digging into my fisted palms on my thigh.

The things I would do for that man terrifies me sometimes. Like... a cursed spirit could've pounced on a very unsuspecting me at that moment, and I would've been completely defenseless being a non-sorcerer and whatnot.

The sound of footsteps immediately made me whip my neck to the left so fast, I heard a knuckle go 'pop!'.

"Nanami," I breathed as I stood to my feet when I saw him stride over to me, clearly in as much haste as I was in.

Before another word left my lips, the embrace of strong arms, corded with muscles, crushed me to his chest. Nanami held me close, his arms and warm, clean scent enveloping me in comfort. "What are you doing here? God, you really don't know when to quit, do you?" He asked, his hand going to the back of my head to cradle it so close that I could hear the gavel of his heart thumping.

"And have you die alone? Nonsense. I might as well get taken out in the bargain, too." I mumble against his chest.

Nanami pulled away to grip me by my shoulders. Amber-brown eyes pierced into mine. "It's my job to risk my life for you and other people. It's your job to stay safe and out of harms way." He said firmly. But all the finality in his voice would never shake what I had made up my mind on. So I said the only answer I knew to that. "No."

He sighed, surprising even me when he didn't have any rebuttal. If the cut on his brow and the blood staining an entire side of his shirt was any indication, Nanami must've been exhausted after the grueling battle at Shibuya. Things would have been more gory for him, but thankfully, Shoko was as efficient as her reputation of her being a healer.

I leaned into his touch as his thumb gently brushed against my cheekbone. "Why must you be so persistent?" Nanami shook his head, his eyes softening despite the question he asked.

"I don't know, Kento. Why must you always disregard your own safety for others?"

"Because it's my job."

"Then it's my job to do the same for you."

Time stopped once again then, as Nanami smiled— a rare sight to behold for sore eyes— like a lone ray of sunlight beaming through the thick boughs of miles upon miles of forest.

"Come here, darling," he said, his voice raspy and tired as he pulled me down to sit with him. One of the station lights flickered overhead as the only audience watching us.

His hand cupped my cheek, supporting the weight of my head. Nanami was a strong man, broad shouldered and powerful enough to kill anyone with a single punch. But no one would ever think he was capable of hurting a fly with the way he was looking right now.

And I was the recipient of that look.

My heart raced like it wanted to outrun my body and leap like an athlete out of my chest. I felt like melting, seeping into his skin to his veins, and making a home out of his heart. See, the look of love was one thing, but Nanami gazed at me like I was priceless treasure, touched my face like he still needed time to process that I was his. Like he still couldn't believe I was his at all.

Nanami's eyes were soft and held all the world's tenderness as he leaned in to kiss me, brushing his lips just barely against mine, once, twice, before he finally pressed his lips to mine. Electricity ran through my body at the contact, bringing me alive to pull him closer by the collar of his bloodied shirt.

On the contrary, his fingers were gently and nimbly threading through my hair, tilting my jaw even to part my lips with his. The moment was one of urgency, but not once did the hands that held me lose their soft and tender touch, not even when he pulled me closer so that there was no sliver of air between us. Not even when his teeth grazed my bottom lip.

I thought I'd lost you's, were murmurred in winces between kisses. And promises to never leave that wasn’t even in our hands were pressed upon my lips in response.

It would do for now.

Because the hands that held me oh so gently held my heart too in a grip that never compromised on tender love, no matter how tightly he held on.

[happyk44]

Jason has rules that you can't eat anything after 8 p.m., even if someone is going to starve to death, no one should break this rule.

Coral just wanted to have a snack and so she took a cookie and, of course, she doesn't care that the clock says 8:10...

as a result, Jason runs after her and yells that he will fry her, Percy runs after both of them and yells so that Jason doesn't dare touch his sister.

Hazel and Nico just watch tiredly and wait for the opportunity to intervene at the very last moment.

Haha, I don't know about that rule for my concept of Jason. I feel like wolf instinct is making sure everyone eats (Hazel and Nico 100% share this instinct, but more on a grandma level than wolf baby). But I do like the idea that he's a lot looser when it comes to Coral. Like you'd think he'd be more stiff because her nature clashes against his and he'd want to restrain himself more against his instincts. But he doesn't have to - not with her. Because she can handle whatever he throws at her, and he knows that and understands it doesn't bother her (and that trying to lecture her on the right way to do something means nothing to her, especially if a personal rule beholden to Jason and not society as a whole).

So, lol, I'm imagining him calling up Hazel, like, "hey we gotta track down Coral, I need to go batshit insane for ten minutes", and Hazel's just "oh my god I didn't sign up for this shit", and then they find Coral, Coral explicitly and purposely breaks a rule in front of him then handles it easily when he snaps, while Hazel stands back, looking exasperated like her dad when he has to be the older brother, and makes sure they don't murder each other or accidentally hurt someone else.

Because at his core Jason doesn't want to hurt anyone. Sometimes an execution seems like the only proper response, and he doesn't really like that about himself - but in the same breath, he also knows he's one of the few people who won't be affected by it because it's the right thing to do/the law requires it as punishment, so if it becomes the only possible outcome, or something that's voted on, he always volunteers himself to be the one who holds the knife, or syringe, or whatever they use, idk how they'd handle the death penalty. It's a complicated to understand that the way you think is best might be dumb while, at the same time, holding it in such high importance that it baffles you other people don't agree.

(Fun fact: My OC, June, has so much love for the world but her gut instinct is violence every single time, no matter how minor the rule, because of reasons, and this causes her so much internal pain that sometimes I get mad at about it, lol)

I think, unlike June, Jason has more stages in his idea of justice. Teaching people about morals and ethics, showing them the difference between right and wrong, explaining the importance of the rules - these are likely his starting points. It might be that his gut instinct is violence but he's taught himself better ways to start off (which June, unfortunately, is not capable of, due to the way I've structured her story). He's also softer because while he feels the urge to be the leader, he doesn't necessarily want to be. Sometimes he wants collaboration. It can be difficult at times, yes, but that's how Jason is. He wants everyone to be equal. I don't think he has OCPD but I do think he deals with some traits of it, varying in intensity at certain times.

Thalia would be different - in what I remember of canon, she's more volatile, more insistent on being in charge, was immediately promoted to Lieutenant and there's never any indication she was unhappy about that. So, whether she has it or not, maybe OCPD traits are much stronger and prominent in her than in Jason.

She might have a harder time letting go of the reigns, or accepting collaborative efforts than he does. She might have a higher sense of superiority than he does - in part because she's the daughter of Zeus and gets pedestal-ed for it, and in part because any possible OCPD traits push that sense of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". She might get more anxious when things aren't orderly or perfect, or focus too much on the small things.

Which works out - you know, everyone is different, it wouldn't make sense for them to be the same.

With my Neptune girls, Coral is on the more extreme end of szpd, but Melpomene exists in more of a middle ground, with a higher prevalence for ASPD traits than Coral (I'll go into that in a separate post when I have time, but was thinking about ASPD as a Neptune/Poseidon/Ares thing as well, which, haha, comorbidity among personality disorders is common so why not, and it was fitting Mel's character as I was developing her, so double why not 🤷‍♂️).

But, lol, not to get off track, yeah, I think the idea of Jason using Coral to blow off some steam because she doesn't have the emotional capacity to be bothered by his neurotic tendencies blowing up at her is a good concept. And Percy stumbling into the middle of this with zero awareness because Coral didn't think to say anything about it the last time they talked, seeing Jason chasing his sister around with a whip of lightning, is so funny.

He'd be so confused for a hot second before jumping into action. And then Jason would be yelling at him that she broke a rule (a stupid, silly rule that makes no sense to most people), and now Percy's chasing him yelling about that's a dumb rule, and Coral agrees, which ofc, makes Jason even more upset, and now he's chasing both of them, and Hazel is in the background just fully, "ugh, if I knew being Pluto's child meant I had to deal with this shit, I would've stayed dead. Or asked you to train me yourself instead of sending me to Camp Jupiter" and Nico is nodding along, going, "This is why Dad doesn't talk to his family unless he has to"

It's how they bond as cousins 😂

[outcastpack]

I don't know what this is but moodboard for a scene I'm planning/wrote abit of for a later part of the story because Theo/Corey bffism holds a special place in my heart.

I did write this snippet though-

Liam enters the house, having just dropped off Olivia at home promising to visit the following day to help pick out the colours for the babies nursery at her house.

It's late so he doesn't expect anyone else to be up at this time, moving to open the fridge looking to see if there's any leftovers he can eat finding a plate wrapped up with a post it note stuck on that has his name written on it. A quick "figured you weren't gonna be home so saved you some" written on it in Theos handwriting. God Theos so damn great, he get a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest and a smile on his face thinking about the boy.

He grabs the plate shutting the fridge behind him before almost immediately dropping the plate on the floor as he turns in shock, coming face to face with Corey who's giving him a very unimpressed glare, he looks at the clock on the wall, his gaze become more darker then looks back at Liam. "Where were you?" Masons boyfriend asks now glaring at him for what he doesn't know. "Liv wanted me to help her grab some stuff for the baby and then we watched a film." He says, confusion laced into his voice because he doesn't know why Corey seems annoyed at him right now. Corey moves towards him and shoves him against the counter, bashing his back into the edge.

Liam releases a pained groan at the impact and goes to shout at the other boy but Corey beats him to it. "Where. Was. You. Supposed. To. Be." Corey says through gritted teeth and now, now Liams just even more confused because he had nothing planned for today. Corey grabs him again turning him around and pushing him towards the wall with their calender on shouting. "LOOK AT THE CALENDER LIAM!" Liams eyes widen at the venemous tone of voice and way the other boy is being because this is Corey, sweet advice giving Corey and if Corey's pissed at him it must be bad.

He looks at the calender skimming over it before landing on the day it is. Eyes widening as he finally realises what he had missed.

There in his own messy handwriting

Theos follow up appointment

He remembers underlining it too so he didn't forget.

And thats exactly what he did.

God he feels like he is gonna be sick.

"You need to sort this shit out Liam. He already had a close call a few weeks back remember." Corey says finally releasing his grip on Liam and Liam does remember, he will be never be able to get that image out his head, getting visions of being back in the hospital that day waiting to find out if Theos heart had finally given out before they could finally get him a the transplant hes been waiting years for. Spending the week after sleeping with his hand on Theos heart to hear it still beating.

God no wonder Theos had been so off with him recently, only now realising how much he had pushed his green eyed boy to the side for preparing for the baby.

"He thinks you don't love him anymore, I know you do. I need you to show him you do." Corey says and really Liam can't even blame Theo for doubting him.

"I will, I love him so damn much Cor, god I should of been here. How could I forget something like this." Liam says, he's getting angry with himself now and just god he's imagining Theo sitting there alone in the waiting room, hoping Liam is about to walk through the doors being uncomfortable surrounded by those white walls. He knows how much his boyfriend hates those hospitals and being there alone after spending years in and out, in and out. "Has..... has he said what they told him." He says feeling his eyes beginning to water and has to hold back a sob, Corey must see this as his eyes lose some of the anger they held. "No, he said he needed to talk to you first. I just walked in on him sat on the couch crying." Corey replies clenching his fists at the reminder of what he walked in on.

"God I need to fix this. Is.... is he here." Liam says wrapping his arms around himself, his own fists clenching as he can't decide between sobbing or being angry at himself.

"Yes you do. And fast. He left, said he was staying at Tara's or his apartment, that he couldn't stay here right now." Corey adds bluntly before turnng and walking out the room leaving Liam alone to think.

[arcanemoxhi]

💜 Choose ❤️

Vi or Sevika x Fem!Reader

Summary: Their big fight in the bar will result in one of their deaths, until you interrupt them. Now you have to choose between them.

Warning ⚠️; Blood, death, curse words, betrayal, angst, romantic, crying

~~~

This is a grave mistake! You know you should be staying home like they instructed you to do, but you can't help but think either one could die. You don't want Sevika or Vi to die, but you know one of them will if you do nothing. You run fast to the last drop where you see the chem tanks broken and destroyed. Nothing stops you from busting down the door. You catch the attention of Sevika and Vi feet apart with blood running down their body with heavy breathes. "Stop, this is crazy!!" You know they won't listen, they expect you to pick. You look towards...

Sevika

"I told you to stay home!"

You run to Sevika and hug her bloody body, you begin to cry that you have to pick. She pulls you close by her mechanical arm and holds you close, "I know, darling. You don't have to worry anymore... She'll be gone before you can blink." Sevika stares at the shocked red haired woman.

"Did you really choose the woman who helped killed Vander and do Silcos bidding?! You know what fuck this, I knew to never trust you. I knew you never loved me."

Vi starts strutting towards you and Sevika. "Vi, I'm sorry..." You say sobbing. Sevika pushes you aside and gets back to fighting Vi. Vi's gauntlet is fighting against Sevika's mechanical sword. You unfortunately watch.

The fight is intense and it ends with Sevika stabbing Vi brutally, leaving her lifeless almost immediately. Vi falls to her death as her head rocks lifelessly towards you.

You stare at Vi's lifeless body and eyes. You begin to sob hard as you quickly cover your eyes. You can't look at her no more, it's hurts too much. You feel Sevika pull you close as your face lays on her chest. "Shh, now. It's okay, Princess. You're going to be okay, don't waste your tears on the bartender's failure. Just look at me, I'm here. I'm alive. I'll make everything better, all you need is me..."

Vi

"what are you doing here?! I told you to stay at the apartment!"

You run over to Vi and hug her tightly. You can't help but tear up because you have to choose. She holds you close with her one exposed arm. Her broken gauntlet is on the ground. Vi gaze up from the hug to see a disappointed Sevika.

"I knew you would pick her. You always choose the weak and pathetic options. No bother. I don't need you." Sevika begins to put shimmer into her arm.

"Sevika, please..." You begin to sob a little at the sudden aggressive Sevika.

"Move aside, cupcake. I don't want you to get hurt." Vi's eyes glances over to you sobbing at Sevika. "No, we don't ha--"

Behind you is a preparing Sevika ready to swing her laser sword at you and Vi. Vi pushes you aside. You got a little scratch from Sevika and Vi wasn't having it. You watch from afar, unfortunately.

The end of the battle resulted in Sevika being thrown against the old clock and the glass stabbing her vital points, killing her immediately.

You begin to cry at the lifeless Sevika. You didn't want them to fight, but you knew one of them wasn't going to make it out alive. You turn away from the lifeless Sevika. Vi runs over to you and hugs you closely, with your face into her chest. "Shh, shh. I know baby, it's not your fault. You tried baby, I know. But she can't hurt you or anyone else. Come on, let's go. We need to go home."

A/N: this was another idea I had to break some hearts :') so yay angsttt anyways later love ya muah muah bye

[owl-with-a-pen]

If I could interest you in some more Naltorian mannerism headcanons, please allow me to introduce The Stare. They do this when they're nervous, anticipating some kind of trouble, or straight up expecting to be harmed.

I imagine it's not always subtle, and it can be very creepy. Just a wide-eyed, no-blinking-allowed stare that they will hold for a ridiculous period of time. It serves multiple communication purposes; clueing each other in on trouble, letting someone know they're freaking the Naltorian in question out, or even sometimes being indicative of hostility or an expectation that they're going to be fighting.

Nia does is unconsciously, as they all do, and it's actually really useful. Because her intuition is incredible, she'll start doing this before her conscious mind even realizes there's potential danger, and one of her friends will see her staring and be clued in to the fact that something's not right.

And if you want angst, I think that in the bad timeline, something that would temporarily bring back some semblance of Brainy's old self is the realization that Nia is staring at him. Something about her giving him the Naltorian sign for "I am afraid of you"/"I think you're going to hurt me" would have him feeling some type of way.

Back to less painful regular timeline things, I think it would be sweet if Brainy was always the first person to clock that she's not blinking and immediately check on her/check their surroundings for whatever's making her so nervous. He also trusts that stare, no questions asked. If Nia is staring at someone, even if they've done nothing wrong, that person is dangerous and he doesn't care what anyone else thinks. He knows she doesn't do that for no reason.

Ooo you know this ties into the intuition that dream-visions must give Naltorians quite nicely. While Nia can choose to try and scope the future through her dreams, a lot of her visions don't give her that sort of warning, so the idea that Naltorians have a more conscious instinct to their precognitive abilities as well is super intriguing.

"The Stare" is also quite a stark contrast against a dream vision. A vision gives a Naltorian an abstract series of images of a possible future that forces their eyes closed, but "The Stare" would be the opposite of this. An aggressive intuition that something is Wrong that forces their eyes wide open instead of shut. It doesn't give them quite as much insight and isn't even that easy for the individual experiencing it to read, but it's enough to let anyone around them know that they need to have their guard up.

Also oh my god though it hurts, having dark timeline!Brainy recognise Nia's stare when she sees him for that first time would be so good. From what we saw of the dark timeline, whatever Lena did to Brainy didn't totally eradicate his emotions like she'd wanted, but rather totally messed him up to an extent that he can't make the the right connections between what he's seeing and what he's feeling. I imagine him being curious when he sees Nia's reaction, like he can tell its affecting a part of him but he's not sure why. Even still, his eyes begin to burn and maybe he doesn't feel the tears on his face, but Nia certainly sees them.

Also also, to add even more Angst, what if Nia isn't alone when she first sees Brainy post his kidnapping? What if Kara or Alex or any member of the Super Friends are with her intending for this to be a rescue mission. But, the second they see Nia stop dead and just stare at Brainy with that gut instinct of 'something is horribly wrong', they don't even question it, they pull their weapon on Brainy immediately knowing Lena's done something irreparably wrong to him.

Okay okay, going back to the cuter aspect, I love that Brainy would be the one to clock Nia going into stare mode. They check in on each other so naturally ever since Leviathan and all that followed that Brainy is always the first to notice if Nia has frozen up. Just like he's always there for her when she falls into a vision, he'll be there to have her back if she has a bad feeling about any situation or person that they meet. They face that stuff together, always. 💜

[angelic-writer]

Whumpcember Day 4 - Hidden Injury

Everything was going according to plan.

The masked figure was holding Adam at gunpoint, shouting at him and preventing him from going into the burning building. He and his friends thought he was alone, but he had someone tagging along with him.

Ever since he discovered Jonah's power, the two men had been using it to their advantage. The first few times, Adam had underestimated just how fast Jonah could go. He still remembered the time where he had gotten a call about an attempted robbery. By the time he and the police arrived, they were all tied up in a storage unit and Jonah was sitting on top of the boxes, giving them Pokemon details.

He looked to the other people that were watching. They were all being held at gunpoint. A woman was crying, screaming for her child that was left inside. C'mon, Jo. Hurry up.

A gust of wind blew past him followed by streaks of lightning. Before he could blink, a familiar white haired person ran out carrying a crying baby.

"Oh, my baby!! Thank you!" The woman cried, holding her child tightly.

The man turned to Adam. "So this is your plan, huh? You get your little friend to help you? I thought you were tougher than that." He cocked the gun. "No matter. This'll all be over so-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as Jonah immediately clocked him in the face. The group were all on the ground now, tied up before anyone can even breathe.

"Good morning, Mandela County! It's a beautiful day out today with sunny skies and temperatures of 70 degrees. Today's report is about the apartment fire from last night. Officials say that a group of masked figures set fire to an apartment complex with multiple other tenants inside. Luckily, the angels appeared once again to apprehend the criminals and rescue the victims. We will be holding a press conference later today to commemorate their heroic deeds."

Adam exited the 7/11, grocery bags in hand. That press conference wore him out. He wasn't sure if he can keep up with the press for today. He just wanted to go home and relax.

Jonah, of course, was yapping his ear off about how they finally joined the ranks of Mark and Cesar, that they can become like the heroes from the comic books.

'What a week, huh?' Metetron spoke. 'First, a car gets flipped over, now a building catches fire.'

"Yeah. It's almost like these things are being done on purpose." He sighed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm just overthinking things."

As he passed by an alleyway, he almost didn't see the glint of metal that shined in the moonlight. A hand covered his mouth and they pulled him back, making him drop the bags.

He was slammed against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. "Dude, the fuck?! I was just getting food!"

He was greeted by a knife resting against his throat. "You should know what's going on here. You think you're hot shit because you and the twink are on TV?"

"Oh, come on. You should know arson's a big no-no here. Not like anyone does anything with it in this town.."

"Shut up!" The blade inched closer. "Because of you, our friends are rotting in a cell. We were just trying to send a message out to you."

"What message? That burning down buildings is cool?"

He growled. "You really shouldn't trust anyone in this town. And you know what happens when you kiss up to the mayor." He made a little cut along his skin. A little droplet of blood trickled down. He took his time to scan the area. There were at least five guys therewith him, each carrying some kind of weapon. Baseball bat, crowbar, brass knuckles... Yep, they aren't messing around. But Adam's tough. He can deal with them easily.

"Yep, I don't have time for this." Adam swiftly upper-cutted the man, causing him to drop the knife. The other men tried to charge him, but Adam (with Metatron's help) was swift. He swung the second man's legs out from under him, causing him to fall, crowbar clattering. Adam grabbed the third man by the wrist, pulled him close and elbowed him in the face, hitting him in the nose.

The fourth man managed to get Adam's cheek with the brass knuckles, but he recovered quickly. He landed the punch on his eye, making him stumble back. He wiped the blood from his lip and smirked. "That all you got?"

He was blindsided by the first man, having gotten up from the ground and tackling him. He pushed him off, but the other men grabbed him by the arms and pinned him down. One of them smirked and pointed his baseball bat at him. "Not so tough now, huh?"

Adam growled at him which caused him to laugh. He lifted the bat high above his head. He closed his eyes, bracing for his doom.

A whoosh of wind. Electricity.

He opened his eyes.

The men were now on the ground, groaning in agony. Jonah towered over them.

"Jonah?" He tried to get up, but pain shot through him.

"Here. Let me help you up." He offered his hand.

Adam took it and tried to get up, but he hissed. Damn, that guy must've really punched me good.

"Dude, you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need a minute to-" He stumbled, clutching at his side. Crap, he must've broke something.

Jonah's eyes widened. "Shit, hold on." He lifted him up, Adam's head resting on his shoulder.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

They left the alleyway, leaving the group of men behind. The MCPD will deal with them.

As they continued walking, Adam's walking started to become sluggish. He was about to ask him if he was alright when the blonde slumped over, toppling both of them to the ground. "Wh- Adam?!"

"Sorry, sorry... I uh..." His speech was becoming slurred. Jonah noticed something staining his shirt. Is that...?

"Let me see."

"Wh-"

"Let me see!" His tone was clipped. It was the kind of tone that let him know that he was serious. He sighed and laid down.

Jonah lifted his jacket... and immediately recoiled.

There was a large stab wound on the side of his torso. Blood was starting to seep through his shirt. Holy... That look bad.

It all became a blur. Jonah picked him up in his arms and the next thing he knew, he was at the hideout. Jonah was scrambling for the first aid kit, cursing under his breath. Adam's vision was starting to swim.

Something pressed against his side, making him flinch. "Hold on, Adam. You'll be okay. They'll be here soon."

They? Matthew and Luke. They know about these things. Poor Jonah. He looks so scared.

He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was becoming difficult to.

"Adam, stay with me!" Jonah cried, but his voice seemed far away. He was feeling a bit tired. He should close his eyes for a bit. He needed some rest after all. He let his eyes slip close, letting everything gradually fade away.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi! I'm obsessed with your rival mob bosses AU. It's so exciting and sexy!! After I read your last fic, I can't get this scenario out of my head: Kro made a move to have his revenge after threats he got from Thena and Gil. He figured it out that these two have feelings for each other and managed to coordinate an attack that critically injured Thena (it can also be Gil as well, up to you). When Gil heard that she got injured, he just completely lost it and then proceed to leverage all of his resources to hunt Kro down. After that, he went to see Thena and went all soft and gentle with her, totally the opposite of Tyrant King persona he was. I am a sucker for hurt/comfort fics, and I just need this to happen between these scary and yet adorable rival mob bosses. Can you write it, please? Thank you so much! Love love love all of your writings!

Thena woke as she felt the bed dip. She'd been in Sersi's recovery ward for what really felt like months, at this point. It certainly was more than six weeks, and enough time that she'd had to delegate much of her business to Kingo and Karun during her time away.

The bastard had poisoned her.

Somehow, Kro had managed to intercept food she'd ordered and slip in just the right poison. Had she been alone - or with anyone but Sersi - she could have suffered much worse consequences. The Princess of Poisons just happened to have an antidote to the most poisonous options.

Then Gilgamesh had heard about what happened.

All he'd told her was that he'd 'taken care of it'. How very Tyrant King of him.

But, over the course of their treatments, Ajak and Sersi had given her at least what they'd been able to hear from their own informative channels.

According to various sources, Kro gets word that his attempt is unsuccessful, and wisely tries to flee before he's captured. It's never wise to try and turn on someone in the business when you're in the business yourself. So, Kro immediately tries to secure a flight out. But Gilgamesh reaches out an iron fist and grounds the plane he's booked. Kro is pulled out of airport security for a 'private examination'. Gilgamesh is waiting for him.

Kro leaves the airport via ambulance.

"The only reason he's alive is because I want Thena to have the chance to finish him off herself, if she wants."

And she did want to finish him off herself. Ajak was holding him in her own recovery ward until she was well enough to do so, too. But until then, Thena was still in Sersi's care.

Gilgamesh had spent every night by her side.

"Are you up?"

Thena sighed as his more-and-more familiar palm brushed over her forehead and then her hair. He could already tell she was, she knew. He'd only gotten better at reading every little thing off of her since resigning himself to her side.

Despite Sersi and her workers' around the clock care, he spent every possible minute with her.

"C'mere," he whispered, gathering her in his arms to roll her over and prop her up against her pillows. "How're you doing, Princess?"

She puffed through her nose. Despite his new obsession with doting on her like a worrisome goose, he hadn't lost all his mannerisms. "What did you do with your day?"

"Business as usual," he chuckled, reaching under his chair and rifling through his bag. "Think you can eat a little something?"

"I suppose," she sighed, pulling her arms out from under the covers.

"I made chazuke," he said and smiled as soft as the white robe pulled around her. He untwisted a thermos and pulled out the bowl and other containers he'd brought with him.

"Gil, you don't have t-"

"Come on," he grinned, gathering up some rice, tea broth and poached salmon all in one spoonful. "Say 'ahhhhh'!"

Thena huffed at him. She hadn't had much of a choice in the very beginning when her fine motor skills were still recovering. But ever since she'd regained the ability to raise a fork, she'd insisted he didn't have to feed her--literally.

Gilgamesh continued to smile, scooching his chair forward and holding the spoon out. "Open up, Princess."

Thena blushed. But, reluctantly, she accepted the bite, letting out a sigh as soon as it hit her tongue. Everything he cooked was so good. Sersi's cooks weren't novices either, but everything Gil brought her was absolutely oozing with care.

"What did Ajak say while she was here?" he asked her between spoonfuls, as if they always shared meals like this.

"She said that progress is being made at an acceptable rate." Thena took another bite, leaning less and less each time until she was settled against her pillows and Gil was bringing each bite directly to her lips for her. "My recovery might come sooner than expected."

"I hope so."

Somewhere along the way, all fronts and charades had faded away. From the moment Gilgamesh had stepped into her private room in the recovery wing, he'd been as soft as a lily petal. He'd whispered soft, loving words to her, brushed her hair, carried her as needed.

Sersi had only ever thought of objecting when he volunteered to carry out Thena's daily sponge bath. But Thena, once awake - as brief as it was - had no objections. Sersi had kept quiet about it. She'd had her suspicions about them, just like many in their business.

"Are you sure business is doing well with you here all the time?"

"Don't care," he admitted freely, bringing another bite up for her. He tipped the oval shaped spoon up for her to get the broth. "You think I'd be anywhere else?"

"Gilgamesh-"

"The woman I love is hurt."

Thena turned her head, staring at him with her whole body cushioned by the plush pillows provided for her. All she had thought since regaining her senses was that it was a poor substitute for the sensation of resting against Gil's chest.

"Where else could I be while you're here?" he tilted his head to meet her eyes properly. She blinked. He lowered the spoon, leaning forward to kiss her.

Just a press of lips to lips. Thena accepted just as gently. Her lips tasted like the delicate green tea in which he'd submerged equally delicate jasmine rice. She couldn't taste coffee on him. Supposedly he'd given it up after learning she couldn't have any system stimulants while she was recovering.

"You're exposing your weakness."

"I don't think it was much of a secret," he lamented to her, brushing some hair away from her cheek. "That my weakness is right out in the open."

Thena remained quiet, and he obviously didn't expect her to say anything, either. She accepted the last bite, watching as Gil packed everything up afterwards. It wasn't like he was going anywhere, anyway.

"Gil?"

He leaned forward, eager to carry out whatever she was about to ask. He sprang forward even more when she strained all her muscles just to lean up off her pillows. "Hey, take it easy, Ice. I know you're tired of being laid up here, but-"

"Lie down with me?" Thena stared up at him, her green eyes glassy with frustration. She gripped a fistful of his shirt as he held her. "Please?"

He hadn't said no to her yet (except for her attempt at bribing him to bring paperwork from her office). "Anything for you, your Majesty."

She let the name slide, just this once. He handled her gently, climbing into the bed and propping her up against his side , nestling her between his thick arm and his even thicker chest. It offered a familiar sturdiness and warmth she'd been craving.

Gil bent his knees under the blankets, positioning his sock feet around her bare ones. "You okay, Sweetness?"

"Hm," Thena sighed, relaxing against the warmth of him. She had never understood the idea that a cat's purring was healing for human beings. But the feeling lying beside Gil certainly made her feel like she was healing twice as quickly.

Gil settled his arms around her, cradling her against him both firmly and gently. He had no intention of letting her go--of letting anything harmful come anywhere near her again. But that was their business. They were fighters--their businesses and the world around them demanded vigilance and strength from them. And yet just this once, his life had made room for softness and gentleness and love. Real, genuine love, for the woman who held his heart in her palms.

So he exercised that gentility. He took advantage of the rare opportunity to hold the woman he loved, and call her sweet things and run his fingers through her hair.

Thena nearly had something on the tip of her tongue, but let it vanish. There would always be more time for cold reminders about the world awaiting them. But she had also enabled herself to revel in their afforded moments together.

Gil blinked as he felt her undo a few shirt buttons, but he smiled as she pressed her forehead against his chest, over his heartbeat. He ran a hand over her hair. "What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Surprise me," she whispered, still making small adjustments to get closer and closer to him. Her reply was a kiss to her forehead, promising the fulfillment of her request.

"Anything you need," he whispered against the top of her head.

"I need," she started and paused. She couldn't remember the last time she'd uttered these words. Maybe she had never truly said them in her life. One word, really. Just one little stupid word she had been trying to spit out for months.

Gil waited.

"I need," she sighed, dropping her head against his heart again, "the man I love to shut up and let me sleep."

Gil's arms tightened around her, his smile buried in her sunshine hair. "Yes, dear."

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me a River - Chapter 61 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Frightened Creature

My eyes widened.

Michael didn't care for a reply as he turned his back to me and proceeded to approach the creature with a softened voice and an outstretched hand.

The small thing eyeballed him quizzically before being pulled into a tight hug.

A surprised gasp escaped its mouth as it began to move frantically in his tightened hold.

From my room, a loud chiming could be heard, creating the most obnoxious duet with my cooeing brother-in-law.

The boy jumped, falling backward into the bath with a high pitched screech as Michael hurried to help him from drowning in what was probably a centimeter of leftover water.

An exasperated sigh escaped my mouth as my eyes settled on the clock above the mirror.

'Damn it.'

"Tsk."

Michael turned to me with a quirked brow just as my attention pulled from the clock.

The boy's head rested against Michael's shoulder, fingers tightly weaved in Michael's shirt as he watched me over the bigger man's shoulder.

I took a breath.

"I know this is a lot to ask, Michael," I began to which Michael took to crossing his arms.

"But I have a council meeting right now and..." my eyes fell to the small form resting against his chest.

Its round blue eyes watched me curiously.

"And you need someone to babysit Wolfy," Michael's fingers played with its golden locks and it surprisingly allowed it.

I had almost expected it to take a bite out of Michael's hand for it yet it seemed to have taken the form of a docile puppy in Michael's arms.

"Yes."

My eyes couldn't help but wander back to the clock.

"Fine," Michael breathed out.

My eyes pulled hastily to Michael with widened eyes.

"Really?"

I had expected to have to fight him on that.

He was surprisingly fast to accept my request.

'What's the catch?'

My eyes narrowed.

"Hey," Michael scoffed.

"But don't get your hopes up. I'm a doctor, not a Wolfy-sitter this is a once only situation," he pointed a finger at me.

I nodded.

"And," he took a breath.

'Of course.'

"Tell one of the maids to hang a sign on my door that I won't be in today. Don't want a bunch of idiots banging down my office doors," he grumbled.

'That's it?'

I couldn't help but be bewildered.

This was Michael.

He always asked for something in return.

Always whining along the lines of being a busy person and not having neither the time or patience for idiots, meaning that somehow earned him gifts in return.

Yet as I stood here, no such demands were being voiced.

I was almost afraid to leave lest something was wrong with him but the clock above the mirror was an annoying reminder that I was already a few minutes late to the meeting.

With a nervous breath and a sideways glance at Michael's smiling form, I bid my farewell and rushed to the meeting room.

As expected the meeting hadn't started without me yet with the looks of disapproval I had gained from the councilmen, they were clearly unhappy with my tardiness.

No doubt this was going to be reported back to my father.

With a released breath, I took a seat on my throne and waved my hand to start.

Immediately a couple councilmen rose to their feet with a scroll worth of complaints.

The scribe took to his pen, Isaiah doing the same as the councilmen took to their mouths.

Just before I opened my mouth to reply to their complaints, I turned to my side.

Expecting a sweet smile and words of encouragement, my eyes widened as they landed on an empty throne beside me.

My breath lodged in my throat.

He's not here, remember?

My hands wrapped tightly around the arms of my throne as I turned quickly before anyone could realize my blunder.

"Bring General Hyde to the next meeting and we'll set out the plans."

As I began lifting myself from my throne a councilman raised his hand.

"Yes?" the man took a shallow breath before pointing to the row beside him.

My brows pulled before a raised hand caught my attention.

With confusion plaguing my mind, I turned my head.

My breath sucked in as my vision caught sight of a familiar face.

"Present," Hyde declared with a raised hand.

My head was just about pounding at this point. 

How completely out of it am I right now?

A hushed murmur filled the circle of councilmen.

Derek sent me a quizzical look from beside Isaiah just as Isaiah pulled momentarily from his writing to tilt his head at me with a questionable gaze of his own.

Hyde, unlike the rest of the frenzied councilmen, seemed to find the humor in the situation as a bubbled laughter escaped his mouth and filled the room.

He bent forward, cupping his chest just as Isaiah reached over and threw a feathered pen at his back.

A clear line of ink ran down the man's back, staining his olive-colored vest.

Isaiah seemed less than apologetic as he sat back in his chair with folded arms.

Hyde's head pivoted back, mouth agape as Derek's mouth pulled into a smirk, arms moving to bend around Isaiah's peeved form.

'Those three.'

I shook my head.

Just then, Isaiah's attention turned back to me and he rose from his chair.

"Do you need us to cut this meeting short, Your Majesty?"

His eyes scanned my face, clearly thinking I was ill for being inattentive.

'I left Michael alone with that thing, of course, my attention is diverted from this meeting.'

The rest of the councilmen eyed me, awaiting my answer.

I wanted to leave.

Oh Goddess did I want to leave.

Already images of the thing urinating on my bed and attacking Michael were floating through my head.

Though, it was my responsibility as king to solve problems brought before me, not cause any.

I had recently risen to the throne, did I want to be viewed as irresponsible and inattentive in merely my first month of being king?

It was bad enough as it was that I was already late to this meeting.

"No, thank you, Isaiah. I'm merely feeling a bit under the weather but that's no reason to call our meeting short. Please," my arm rose to the councilmen.

"Do continue."