#and then forgot to line them so the sin was avoided

[simply-ivanka]

Kamala Harris’s ‘Joyful’ War on Entrepreneurs

When Democrats talk about boosting the middle class, what they mean is government employees.

By Allysia Finley Wall Street Journal

Americans who tuned in to Kamala Harris’s coronation last week heard from plenty of celebrities, labor leaders and politicians. Missing from the “joyous” celebration, however, were entrepreneurs who generate middle-class jobs.

No surprise. Cheered on by the crowd, Democrats took turns whacking “oligarchs” and “corporate monopolists.” By the time Ms. Harris took the stage, the pinatas’ pickings had been splattered around. This is what Democrats plan to do if they win: destroy wealth creators so they can spread the booty among their own.

Corporate greed is “the one true enemy,” United Auto Workers President Shawn Fain proclaimed. Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders insisted the party “must take on Big Pharma, Big Oil, Big Ag, Big Tech, and all the other corporate monopolists whose greed is denying progress for working people.” Pennsylvania Sen. Bob Casey railed against “greedflation” and accused corporations of “extorting families.”

Barack Obama lambasted Donald Trump and his “well-heeled donors.” “For them, one group’s gains is necessarily another group’s loss,” Mr. Obama said. “For them, freedom means that the powerful can do pretty much what they please, whether it’s fire workers trying to organize a union or put poison in our rivers or avoid paying taxes like everybody else has to do.”

Democrats treat wealth as a zero-sum game, and so Mr. Obama’s straw men are rich. They get richer by making everyone else poorer—and taking away from the well-off is the only way to enhance the lives of the poor and middle class. Hence, the left’s plans to raise taxes on “billionaires” and businesses to finance more welfare.

It isn’t enough that the top 1% of earners already pay 45.8% of federal income tax, which funds government services and welfare for the bottom half. As for poisoning rivers, perhaps Mr. Obama forgot that his own Environmental Protection Agency caused the 2015 Gold King Mine disaster, which spilled toxic waste into Colorado’s Animas River.

Quoting Abraham Lincoln, the former president invoked “the better angels of our nature” even as he appealed to America’s darker angels. His speech brought to mind a recent homily by my local parish priest about the dangers of class warfare and envy, one of the seven deadly sins.

Success, the priest explained, isn’t a zero-sum game. When a businessman succeeds, he creates jobs that help the poor. Envying and tearing down the successful makes everyone poorer. Rather than plunder the wealthy, society should celebrate success and try to help everyone prosper.

Democrats derisively refer to such ideas as “trickle-down economics.” They denounce and diminish business success, and claim the wealthy have profited from greed and government support. Who can forget Mr. Obama’s line in 2012 that “if you’ve got a business, you didn’t build that”?

Rather than try to make it easier for businesses to succeed—say, by reducing taxes or easing regulations—Democrats want to do the opposite. They call for “leveling the playing field” and “growing the middle class out,” euphemisms for taxing success so government can hand out money. But government doesn’t create wealth. People do.

While business success isn’t zero-sum, government growth can be. Its expansion makes it more difficult for business to thrive. The result is fewer jobs, lower wages and less tax revenue, which finances essential public services such as law enforcement and the “safety net” for the indigent.

Mr. Trump’s appeal in 2016 partly stemmed from slow economic growth during Mr. Obama’s presidency. The Republican promised to make all Americans richer by liberating businesses from government’s shackles. Mr. Trump’s deregulation and tax cuts worked: Average real wages increased nearly 70% faster during his first three years than during Mr. Obama’s presidency.

Yet most Americans have become poorer under Mr. Biden, as government spending has fueled inflation, which has eroded wages. Job growth has become increasingly concentrated in sectors that depend on government spending. When Democrats talk about boosting the middle class, they mean the class of government workers.

Government, education, healthcare and social assistance account for more than 60% of the new jobs added in the last year. In the 17 states where Democrats boast a “trifecta”—control of the governorship and both legislative chambers—the share is 98%. In the 23 states with Republican trifectas, it’s 47%.

Likewise, average wage growth since the start of the pandemic has been lower in high-tax states such as Illinois (13.6%), New York (14.4%) and California (17.2%) than in low-tax Florida (22.5%), Texas (23.3%) and South Dakota (26.9%). If middle-class Americans want to get richer, they ought to move to Miami, Dallas or Sioux Falls.

“As long as we look to legislation to cure poverty, or to abolish special privilege,” Henry Ford once observed, “we are going to see poverty spread and special privilege grow.” That’s the joyous future Americans can expect during a Harris presidency.

Appeared in the August 26, 2024, print edition as 'Kamala Harris’s ‘Joyful’ War on Entrepreneurs'.

[koco-coko]

When the World Exploded - - Vincent x Jean - Ikemen Vampire Fic

-> His eyepatch was off, and yet the world didn’t end. In fact, it began anew.

Tags/Warnings <--> Angst then Fluff, Lots of Cuddles and Kisses, Soft and Slow, Bad Cooking, Hidden Relationship, Beginning of Relationship, HEAVY SPOILERS for BOTH suitors, Main POV: Jean D'Arc, HEAVY Exploration of Depression, Passive Suicidal Ideation and Religious Guilt.

Word Count: 5,005 (Around 12 pages)!

A/N <--> this originally started as super fluff but boy oh boy I forgot how messed up these two were. Still super fluff but wow I may have gone a little overboard. So please don't force yourself to read this if you're really sensitive to these things, promise I won't be hurt by it <:)

i think they might like this: @azulashengrottospiano @natimiles @weirdwriter69 (lots of interaction with the jean x vincent posts so i thought i'd tag sorry if you didnt want to be)

Jean never expected to be here. Jean didn’t expect to be alive. Jean didn’t expect much of anything, really.

So imagine his surprise to remember that a blonde painter had arms tightly wrapped around his waist and kept drawing him closer into the scent of dry paint and sunflowers, a hint of pancake batter mixed in there, too.

Jean tried to move away, only to have the arm around him tense and pull him further in. A small hum came from the sleeping painter, his head resting on back of Jean's neck. He couldn’t help it when an uncomfortable shudder went through him. His lips were so close to his ear, the beating of his heart right against his back…

Sure, they agreed beforehand but he never expected this. A part of him wanted to escape. It was all too much, too new. Yet Vincent wouldn’t let him get away, and maybe that was for the better. Despite the blank face and cold demeanor, he was sensitive to many, many things. A case of touch-starvation didn’t help the fact. After a momentary inner conflict, Jean let out a deep sigh and dug his face into the pillow beside him. He could do it. He fell asleep like this once tonight, he could do it again.

He came to learn that there were a lot of firsts when being revived as a vampire.

It was the first time he ever felt attracted to someone, let alone a man.

It was only when Vincent started painting outside more often that Jean started feeling… things. Tingles in his stomach whenever he saw the man paint a dark night sky with swirls of light. Shakes when he caught glimpses of a notebook filled with anatomy practice and fencing positions, all suspiciously bearing a resemblance to Jean. It could be argued that a few were Napoleon, though. The lines were messy enough. These sensations started following him around the mansion, too. At the dinner table, he always felt lighter when he heard Vincent giggle at something Arthur said. Eventually, a simple greeting smile sent a shiver through the poor soldier’s body and all he could do was scuttle off into the piano room. 

Vincent was too radiant for a sinner to handle, he deduced. It seemed logical at the time. Jean’s chest was always empty and Vincent always had light to bring to someone. The world was a better place with Vincent in it and it was worse with Jean. That was just how things were. Jean was ready to accept that over… Well…

“Can I paint you?”

It was the first time anyone ever asked… that. Jean had been avoiding Vincent, more than usual, but one late night out of his room for a bottle of Rouge led to them meeting again. Vincent was already coated in paint, perhaps from a late night project, filling one of his paint cups with fresher water.

Jean was a frozen statue for a while, but when Vincent’s smile slowly faded, he suddenly came to. “Why me?” he asked, quietly.

Vincent looked to the side, the enthusiasm of the initial question trailing off. “I’ve never seen anyone like you?”

So unclean, full of sin and guilt?

“So… pretty?” 

Jean shifted on his feet uncomfortably, staring at the painter in front of him with wide eyes.

Vincent was quick to catch his mistake. “In a manly way! Very male-orientated. But beautiful and elegant, too! So, um, beautifully handsome? Does that make sense?”

Not at all. Jean felt his entire mind and body shut down, then come back, then shut down again. 

Beautiful? Handsome? Was this some sick joke?

“You didn’t drink that, did you?” Jean asked, shyly pointing to the paint-stained cup in his hands.

Vincent glanced down at it, then backed up. “No, I don’t believe so,” he almost chuckled, “Why would you think that?”

“You don’t seem in your right mind,” he responded. “I’m none of what you have described me as. I would suggest getting your eyes checked in the near future.” Jean turned to make his exit, bottle of Rouge in hand.

Vincent’s lips went ajar, blinking in disbelief. Then, he laughed. Jean froze. It was almost insulting to hear that. “Well, I don’t think so. I don’t know you too well, sure, but you seem nice.”

Those words sent butterflies through him.

Whenever Jean looked in the mirror, all he saw was a husk of a living being. He couldn’t say human anymore. He was ugly, inside and out. He longed for life, for warmth, comfort, yet every time it faced him, he ran away. God put him on this Earth to suffer in an endless cycle, yet he couldn’t break his piety to such a cruel deity. 

It was something he’d slowly started to accept– the emptiness was a part of his life. If death came to face him, like a fool, he’d fight it, only to realize that victory meant waking up to another day, only after the fact.

Then, an angel descended upon him. It smiled with bright light, with hair as gold as a halo and beamed at him with kind, blue eyes.

“I guess I’ll just ask again,” the angel asked, “Can I paint you sometime?”

Who was he, a mortal man with sins too heavy to weigh, to deny the messenger of God?

It was the first time he ever ‘modeled’ for someone. 

He never stopped by Vincent’s room for the specific purpose of sitting in a chair for hours on end (when they did try, it was so unpleasant that Jean almost fainted), but he visited on occasion.

Instead of modeling, Vincent would simply follow Jean around at random times with a sketchbook in hand, capturing moments of life in a still, pencil-drawn image. At the end of the day, when the stars twinkled in through Vincent’s window, Jean was invited in and the two chatted about the scenes the blonde had drawn.

“That’s not me,” Jean would say each time, “That man is too pure to be me.”

And every time, Vincent would shake his head and chuckle. “You should really start being nicer to yourself.” Vincent would then quietly whisper to himself, “Rich, coming from me of all people, but the advice still stands.” 

Jean never tried to respond to his extra comments, until one late evening– “Perhaps we both should.”

Vincent’s expression was unreadable as he silently flipped to the next page.

It was the first time someone tried to cook for him. Keyword: tried.

Everyone in the mansion began to notice that the most polar opposites of the mansion had so suddenly gravitated toward each other. Napoleon was surprised when Vincent first appeared at their sparring matches as a regular guest, but now? Why, now he was surprised not to greet him.

Mozart was the most confused, of course. A soldier and a painter? Really, what would they ever want to do with each other? Jean was such a recluse, too. What did Vincent say to him that made him stray from his hideaway room and weapons shop? Theodorus seemed to share this sentiment, trailing behind his older brother like a guard dog.

Still, it didn’t surprise anyone when Vincent wanted to make something for Jean’s birthday.

It did surprise Sebastian that same morning to find the kitchen in shambles. Vincent stood in the middle of it all, a fire blazing inside the oven. Apparently, he had tried to make a batch of macarons. 

It took the help of half the mansion to salvage what they could. When Jean was presented with burnt yet somehow undercooked macarons, he just… stared at them.

“How did you know I liked these?” he asked, trying to ignore the smoke coming from the kitchen area.

Vincent’s smile was drenched in embarrassment. “Ah, well, whenever we go to your shop together, I always see you looking at the macarons in the window displays. So, I just assumed you liked them. Glad you do! I would’ve looked silly if not…”

“Thank you.” Jean practically cut him off before he could say anything else. To show his gratitude, he took one from the pan and tossed it in his mouth. Vincent cringed.

The soldier’s eyes burst open with shock. It was so… mushy and crunchy and… How in God’s name could something like this even be created? It was a crime against pastries everywhere. 

“Sorry,” Vincent mumbled, “I’m not really a sweet’s fan, so…”

That was all it took to convince Jean to push through, swallowing the macaron (could you even call it that?) with much strain. 

“Don’t be. It’s the thought that matters,” Jean said, taking the tray from Vincent. “I… I’ll cherish this forever.”

Jean was looking down at the floor shyly, but he swore he saw a pink color grow on Vincent’s cheeks.

Later that night, he found a portrait of himself waiting by his door. In his critical eyes, it was too divine to look anything like him, but the distinctive stroke style made Vincent the clear painter. A note was attached to the bottom, reading:

“Happy birthday! Sorry for the macarons this morning. Maybe after you close your shop tomorrow, we can go to a bakery and get some non-burnt ones! We could bring them home for a tea party, if you’d like!

Also, I think I finally had enough sketches of you to make a painting, so here’s the finished thing! I hope you like it. I’d like to make more, if you’re comfortable with that

– Vincent Van Gogh”

Unfortunately, Jean wasn’t the most literate. He enjoyed the fact that with paintings, written words were unnecessary. It was a walk of shame to bring the note to Mozart so he could read it for him.

It didn’t completely miss him, though, despite his usual density. Vincent wanted to paint him more. An invitation for more time spent together.

When the fact hit him, Mozart had to double-take the smile he saw on his friend’s face.

It was the first time he ever kissed someone. 

Now, granted, he didn’t remember that until the next morning’s hangover passed. 

Jean was known to be insanely lightweight, so why he was given a glass of wine- no one knows. Unfortunately, his drunkenness often made him very… touchy. So when the mansion had a banquet drawn long into the night, Jean was practically laying on top of Vincent (much to Theo’s ire).

So, Vincent offered to bring Jean back to his room. His strength was only one factor in it, but Jean’s touchy-feely state made it a slight struggle to bring him into the room without losing his balance and being blinded by Jean’s clinginess. 

Vincent has an arm wrapped around Jean as they make their way into his empty room. “Jeanie!” Vincent yelped, “I’m trying to put you to bed!” Through his struggle, he was laughing. Drunken Jean thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. It also didn’t help that Vincent was feeling a bit tipsy, too. He couldn’t stop himself from giggling at the absurdity of Jean’s actions even when he was worried for him.

When Vincent finally managed to get Jean into his room without tripping over his feet for a fourth time, he was content to call it a night. Unfortunately, Jean did not. He latched onto his arm and wouldn’t let go. 

“Wait,” he whispered in a hoarse voice, “Please stay.”

Vincent couldn’t tell if it was the wine getting to him or not, but something made his cheeks grow red.

It was hard to remember the rest. Vincent tried to coax Jean into bed, but he refused, instead wrapping his arms around Vincent and locking him in an embrace.

It was a stupored dance, rocking back and forth as the painter tried to keep the soldier on his feet and not knock the two of them over. Not that he minded, though. The closeness was… oddly welcome.

“C’mon, Theo is going to worry if I don’t go back soon! I promise we’ll see each other tomorrow!” Vincent said, taking steps towards Jean’s bed.

Jean pulled back against him, his head leaning on Vincent’s chest. “But I want you here now.” 

How could the pure angel say no to such a shy request? It’d break poor Jeanie’s heart to force him off!

The swaying continued, Jean moving closer and closer, until…

What was it Arthur said? ‘Drunken words were sober thoughts?’ Did that translate to actions, too? 

The mens’ lips met, for just a brief second, but long enough for Vincent’s to turn into a living cherry. 

They stared at each other for a moment, lust and liquor made Jean’s gaze cloudy, just as it fogged his mind. Vincent was more aware, but maybe he was hazy, too. 

Jean went in again, losing all semblance of balance, leaning all his weight onto Vincent as his knees bent and only the tips of his toes remained dragging on the ground.

If he was a sinner, so be it. He couldn’t take it anymore– the strange pulses of his heart whenever Vincent smiled in the sunlight or told him he was beautiful. He was looked down upon by Heaven’s eye, so what was the point in searching for salvation any longer?

The devil named ethanol overtook Jean, but maybe it claimed Vincent’s heart, too. He didn’t even stumble, catching Jean’s weight and slowly easing into the second kiss. And the fourth. And the seventh.

When the eleventh finished, Vincent suddenly gained consciousness again and forced Jean into bed, running off soon after. Jean was too drunk by then and passed out before he could realize what he’d done.

When day broke the next day, Jean was alone in his bed. No memory came to him until 10 A.M. 

What in God’s name had he done!? What sweet temptation overcame him? He was never drinking again, surely! His heart beat out of his chest with images and sensations flashed by him. With Vincent? He had stooped so low as to share affections with a man!? An innocent one, at that! He couldn’t believe he had even dared to touch the painting angel, tainting him with fault and impurity. God almighty, damnation was all he would receive. He’d turned his back to God thousands of times, but this had to be it. The Holy Spirit would claim him at any moment, banishing him to the pits of hell. Forgiveness was fully out of reach. Why did he have to be revived? He should’ve suffered on that stake, right where he belonged.

Jean locked himself in his room for weeks, only answering when Mozart came to drop off a bottle of Rouge. The pianist would try to speak, only for the door to be slammed in his face. The few glimpses residents did catch of him weren’t all too uplifting, either: Jean, knelt over his bedside with a rosary, muttering the Hail Mary over and over as if he would face judgment at any second. He only left to go to the weapons shop. Jean would avoid Vincent like the plague, or in his case, a harsh blaze. 

Vincent didn’t fare much better. He was more shy and nervous around the mansion, his paintings became more chaotic and surreal. He tried to ignore it, push down every bit of emotion that started to rise in his chest, but… the unfinished paintings spoke for themselves. Lilly fields, the brandish of a sword, a fire burning sweetly in a fool’s chest.

Vincent felt his hands shake when he flipped through his sketchbook, only to find the same thoughts circling him. His chest felt like it would explode. He didn’t think anything of it when they first grew close to each other, but things were different now.

It was the first time anyone ever told him that.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The sword fell from his hands with a loud clatter. Jean was a statue in the middle of the weapons shop while Vincent stood by the door, his hand on the knob.

The store was closed, but Vincent had been gifted a key a while ago. Vincent brightened any room he stepped in with such a radiant light that Jean felt blinded by it. Except… Even with the sunset behind him, illuminating him like an angel, Vincent appeared to him as a normal man.

He was impure, too. He sinned. He felt. Vincent wasn’t a big fan of that last one. 

“You’re mistaken, monsieur.” Jean’s words cut like a sword; through the air and through Vincent’s heart. Vincent clutched his chest. “Whatever… this… is, it is not love. Lucifer is tempting us. We must not give in.” Jean picked the blade from the floor and placed it back on the rack, his brows knit. He kept his back turned to Vincent. He couldn’t even stand to look at him anymore. He was trying to resist the call of lust, after all. “There is nothing to love about me. Do not let the devil fool you, Vincent.”

Vincent’s head was filled with new feelings, but he knew this one too well: Hurt. It felt like Jean had just struck him in the heart with no remorse. Jean had always been blunt, a bit cold and dense, but this was cruel! Vincent’s fingers curled in, his fingernails stabbing the palm of his hand.

“Why not?” Vincent demanded. Jean wasn’t used to a harsh tone from the painter. “I-I…” Vincent practically trembled as he tried to force the words out. “Why do you get to decide what I’m feeling?”

Jean swallowed hard. He… He never thought of it like that. God was the only judge, why was he deciding for the painter? He opened his mouth to speak, but Vincent cut him off as he stepped closer.

“I love you, Jean. And, sure, maybe I don’t have the best grasp on feelings yet, but I know I love you.” Vincent’s declaration was made and there was no going back. It was a bit scary, pouring the beatings of his heart in front of Jean, but it had to be done. “You’re not going to convince me I don’t. I’m sorry.”

Jean was… silent. His violet eyes were wide, but there were unreadable emotions going through him. Vincent couldn’t bring himself to gaze at Jean for more than a few seconds. Not yet. He had no idea how the soldier would react. He was always so cynical, so shrouded in mystery, but that only made Vincent want to show him the sun even more.

“Why?” Jean parroted Vincent’s previous question. “What is there to love about me?” His voice cracked. As much as he tried to hide it, tears were being forcibly choked and swallowed to save his pride.

Vincent’s shoulders slowly slumped as the tension melted. Oh, what wasn’t there to admire. “Well… You’re strong.”

No I’m not, his mind argued.

“And you’re very kind. You’re always so thoughtful and thinking of others.”

It can’t be true.

“I can only dream to be as selfless as you, really!”

That was a blatant lie. What kind of game was he pulling? Only then did Jean’s thoughts stray. Vincent would never lie so openly. Was there truth in his words?

“I like spending time with you, too. You’ve always got something fun to say, when you do talk. And I like it when we go places. You keep talking about that field of lilies, so I think we could go there next!”

His mind’s voice couldn’t think up a retort in time.

“And… Well, I said it when we first met, right? You’re beautifully handsome. That’s something to enjoy, too,” Vincent giggled nervously, “Not as much as the other things, though! More of an added bonus.”

Vincent peeled his eyes off the floor to meet with an unseemly sight. Saint Jeanne D’Arc, staring him right in the face, with a hand over his mouth and tears rolling down his cheeks. It was sacrilegious to watch.

“Hey, don’t cry, Jeanie,” Vincent whispered, moving right in front of Jean to wipe his tears with his thumb. His hand lingered on the man’s cheek. 

Jean felt as if he couldn’t breathe right away. Love? Nonsense. It wasn’t for him. He wasn’t even supposed to be alive! How could someone so gentle and considerate say all those things about him? This had to be some sort of trick or illusion. A dream, even.

Jean’s fingers intertwined with Vincent’s, not letting the painter’s delicate hands leave his face anytime soon.

He was just waiting to wake up from this dream. Waiting patiently. Waiting… and waiting.

It never came.

When he opened his eyes, Vincent was still there, sky blue eyes lovingly locked on him. 

Vincent’s smile was soft. Anything harsher would blind Jean. “We’re vampires, Jean. I think God has bigger things to worry about. Maybe he can let this one slide.”

It was overwhelming to be blanketed in the holy light and Jean’s tears kept falling. This time, with a shy smile on his face.

It happened naturally. The gap between their faces drew shorter and shorter, their bodies fit together perfectly, and Jean’s hands felt comfortable on Vincent’s waist.

It was reserved, at first. Neither had any idea how to navigate a kiss with the other, but it was more natural than Jean had expected. It was… warm. Vincent’s thumb ran his across Jean’s eyepatch. Involuntarily, he drew back. They both used that as a minute to breathe.

Surprisingly, Jean was the one who initiated the second kiss, and this one was much more passionate. Their tongues collided on this one, messily and sloppily. Neither had any clue how to do this, but that was part of the enjoyment. It was slow, sensual, simply taking their time to explore each other. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. Jean and Vincent backed away from each other entirely content, their foreheads pressing against the other. A dopey grin enveloped the soldier’s red face. He was certain the blonde could hear just how loudly his heart pumped in his chest.

It was the first time he felt so happy.

The days at the mansion were almost tolerable now. When no one was around, a chaste peck on the cheek or forehead would be shared. Usually Vincent was the one to find Jean alone in the library, but occasionally Jean walked by his room and left a kiss on his cheek. 

Theo and Mozart noticed how they would disappear together first. Soon enough, everyone else caught on. Most of the mansion went to Arthur and Sebastian for answers, but both refused to tell. Sebastian out of not wanting to admit the amount of intel stored in his Oh no– They Didn’t! journal, and Arthur because he thought it’d be more fun for everyone else to figure it out themselves. Being the detective he was, Vincent sighed in relief when he heard he hadn’t told anyone. These feelings, this relationship… It’s all so new and they needed to take it slow. Being outed so soon would only spell disaster, especially in this century. Besides, Jean was already suffering from the judgmental stares from his little brother across the dinner table.

So, for the meantime, tea parties were kept in lonesome meadows and their most intimate moments were behind locked doors.

It was the first time he had a picnic. 

They promised to go to the lily field, when they had the chance. Vincent was captivated the moment he saw a sea of white petals blowing in the wind, glowing under the light of the moon. Jean didn’t interrupt his pause, allowing him to absorb the beauty around him. 

A blanket placed under them, a stiff breeze moving Vincent’s blonde curls in such a way that Jean couldn’t tear his eyes away. His head rested on the painter’s thigh while he sketched the field in front of them, grinning as his mind’s eye was put to paper. 

He looked down at Jean, breathing softly as he admired him. Vincent chuckled as he ran his fingers through his partner’s navy hair. “This is nice,” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt the still of the night.

The moonlight hit Vincent in such a way that he looked as if he descended from heaven, his features chiseled by God himself. “It is,” Jean responded, closing his eyes to properly enjoy the sensation. 

“We’re really lovers, aren’t we?” the blonde vampire asked softly. “It’s hard to imagine it in the mansion, but here… It feels real.” A pause hit Vincent before he continued, a romantic sigh leaving his lips as he took the moment in. “We should go see the sunflowers next.”

Jean’s eyes fluttered open and he watched Vincent attentively. There was a distinct longing in his eyes as he stared over the waves of flowers.

He couldn’t help himself. Jean cupped Vincent’s cheek in his head, bending awkwardly to plant a kiss on his lover’s jaw.

It was the first time he said those three words.

“I love you.”

It was the first time he took his eyepatch off in front of someone.

It had taken a full year for Jean to open up to the idea of taking his eyepatch off in front of Vincent. When they said they were taking it slow, they meant slow. Molasses envied them. They both had a lot of issues within themself, so moving too fast would only cause even more problems. This was far more safe and comfortable, and for them, that mattered more than anything.

It was a planned event. Theodorus wouldn’t be home for a few days on a business trip and Mozart was completely overtaken by a burst of creativity. Melodies filled the air each night, perfect for the inexperienced lovers. The stars had aligned for them to finally have a chance to sleep together and maybe sleep in, if they were lucky. 

Sitting on opposite ends of Jean’s mattress, Vincent observed the empty room around him with slight dismay. The many paintings gifted to his lover were the only decorations on the walls. Otherwise, the place looked like a jail cell. At least Vincent's cell had a nice window and some paint stains on the floor. This was a topic for another day, though. 

Jean sheepishly cleared his throat. A fabric eyepatch sling was laid across his open palm, extending it out for Vincent to take. He feared if he held it any longer that he’d put it right back on. 

Vincent was instantly enamored with Jean’s face. He came to know of Jean’s execution, of how he covered himself so thoroughly to hide the scars that coated him from his feet to his face, but finally being able to see some, the dead skin surrounding his blind eye and the burns that brushed his usually glove-covered hands… He was so beautiful. 

Jean was self-conscious under his gaze, actively forcing his left hand not to cover his eye. Fortunately, Vincent reached out and traced the burnt lines of his face before Jean could. His breath hitched, a short quivering running down his shoulder. “Sorry,” Vincent mumbled, now caressing the side of his face. “I just… I should paint you like this sometime. If you’ll let me.” Briefly, Vincent’s eyes wandered to his torso, before gazing back at the head of his lover. He held his cheek so tenderly.

Jean’s bashfulness melted under the tender gaze of the older Van Gogh. He took his wrist in his hand and planted delicate kisses against his palm. Vincent giggled coyly. Ah, that sound was more beautiful than any hymns the angels could conjure up. “I’ll think about it, monsieur.” He was thankful the attention to his scars ended there, although slight brushes and kisses against his eye were common as they laid next to each other. Any comments on its state would’ve left Jean a mess of regret and self-hatred. Vincent was careful about that, as Jean was with Vincent’s emotional status. It was an equal trade.

The evening was quiet, lulling the two to sleep easily. At first, they had fallen asleep with their hands locked together, not all too close to each other. Vincent knew just how overwhelming physical affection was for Jean, even after a full year in this relationship. Jean was the one who set the pace when it came to touch. He didn’t mind that. 

Apparently, his unconscious state did. Jean awoke in the middle of the night to Vincent’s head tucked against his neck, arms around his waist and his back pressed against the painter’s chest, their fingers still intertwined with each other. His face dug against the pillow under him, hiding the scar from the dark nighttime. 

Sometimes, he could feel the eyes of God staring at him, judging him for every sin he’d committed. When that happened, he’d spend several days in the city church, ultimately failing to build up the courage to enter the confessional. He was sin incarnate, no Father could offer repentance for that. 

The urge to run overcame him. To be so close to another living being was too much… but the scent of paint and sunflowers granted miracles to Jean. His muscles slowly unwound and he found himself falling into the arms of rest once again. The strong arms around him kept him tied to reality and away from the dark thoughts of his wandering mind. 

Every time Jean fell asleep, he dreaded the coming morning. The cycle of a torturous, unwanted, wrongful existence continued. 

But with Vincent here… Things were different. A small flicker grew in his heart. If he could make it to tomorrow, he’d get to see Vincent smile. Oh, and perhaps he’d get to spare with Napoleon, and then play with Cherie… then he could… And then...

Suddenly everything felt worth fighting for, if only for a day.

He had taken his eyepatch off, and the world still turned.

[mrsmarlasinger]

OH. I forgot to tell a story that I have already told everyone in my physical vicinity! The drama of it all.

So my on-and-off childhood sweetheart from age...like...eleven to twenty-something—okay, scratch that. We met for the first time when we were toddlers. So let's call him my on-and-off childhood sweetheart of basically twenty years. My first kiss, first love, so on and so forth.

You get the gist. I don't have to explain this to you.

Well, in August 2023, he pleads for me to take him back and asks something along the lines of "What would it take?"

🤨

Seriously.

Keep in mind, this is a return missionary of the Polite, Inoffensive Young Mormon Boy™ genre. My parents wanted desperately for me to marry him. (Sorry, Mom and Dad! It was never gonna work!)

This dude is a cishet who won't TECHNICALLY misgender your partner, but will refer to them exclusively by name to avoid using any pronouns whatsoever. He's a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps Republican. You wanna know how Roe v. Wade got overturned? Lol. Lmao, even.

Me? I'm a pierced, kinky, polyamorous, weed-smoking, whiskey-loving, goreno-watching, foul-mouthed, slutty-attired, dyke-sex-having

🏳️‍🌈🌈QUEER🌈🏳️‍🌈

Sin central. Remember when "hellmaxxing" was a word? I quaff fucking cough medicine to get high. Sometimes. Doesn't matter. Anyway.

So he and I are incompatible, natch, but that was so not even relevant. Because in August 2023, I WAS LITERALLY A YEAR INTO A LESBIAN RELATIONSHIP.

"What would it take?" Bro, I hadn't dated a man in nearly half a decade! I still haven't! In fact, I am currently in a relationship with a lesbian!

What do you mean, dude.

What do you MEAN.

So I tell this boy he'd have to leave the Mormon church. Don't get me wrong, that wasn't a challenge or an ultimatum—I think he's having a great time being Mormon! Didn't work for me, but shit, man, it's working for him!

And okay, fine, do I think he gives bi-guy-with-internalized-homophobia vibes (I've dated one, I would know) and should at least give bisexuality the good ol' college try? Yes, but it's not up to me!

I just meant that, ultimately, it was the Church which drove such a divide between us. I don't believe in it—I can't believe—and neither of us would be happy compromising our beliefs for the other. And even if I compromised mine for him, I'd still be haunted by the hurt of everything he said to me when I left. All the judgment he spewed in the guise of humor.

So that's what I said.

In that moment, he looked at me with his big, sad brown eyes, and I think we understood each other perfectly.

And god, it was sad. I did use to think he and I would end up married. For ten years I thought that. Hell, everyone told us we would.

But...ohmygod. What a movie moment. For bitches who live their lives like cosplay (I'm bitches), that is like one of the top five wish fulfillment moments you could experience in your interpersonal relationships.

Honestly. Honestly. I can't stress enough that a man BEGGED FOR ME TO TAKE HIM BACK, and then I TURNED HIM DOWN.

I'm sorry but like...that's crazy. That's glamor.

So anyway, he goes off into the starry dark (yeah, and of COURSE it happened on the front porch at night. Me on the very edge of the porch step, him on the ground—vaguely Romeo and Juliet-esque. Like...the poetry. You cannot get more cinematic than that). I watch him leave, then go inside.

The next time I hear from this man, I'm drinking wine on my gay partner's couch (gay) (we are gay) (lesbians), and this man invites me to his wedding...reception. Cuz of course, I couldn't get into his temple wedding even if I wanted to.

And yes, I cried over the lame-ass cishet boy! The death of childhood sweetheartdom does, in fact, require a mourning period.

N e wayz, here's the kicker: in true Mormon fashion, the timeline from him getting rejected by The Great Love Of His Life (blushes cutely 🤭) to getting engaged was...FIVE MONTHS! Yes, folks, my nosy ass did the math!

Timeline from the big rejection to his upcoming wedding reception (in Pride month, of ALL months for straight marriage 😒🙄😤)?

🥁🥁🥁🥁...Ten months, folks!

Well, Jesus, man, I didn't want you to rebound with a marriage! Bit sick, innit? Not to inflate my already-ballooned ego, but Lord help us both, you were crushed that night on the porch! Don't saddle your poor fiancée with that baggage, mmkay?

Anyway. That's my tale. I'm genuinely happy for them (provided the marriage works well for both), and I am going to his reception in a couple weeks, though I don't expect we'll keep in contact afterward.

(She seems lovely, btw, can't wait to meet her. Here's hoping they enter the Utah Mormon swinger circle; I'm not opposed to a road trip. Kidding, obviously, and I know that that's a distasteful joke. But, like, if THEY were down—)

(KIDDING. CONSERVATIVES ARE ETHICALLY UNFUCKABLE.)

Moral of the story: I Am That Bitch 🌝🌝

[ferrocyan]

I'm so happy to see another wolreeq enjoyer! Do you have a favourite thing or detail about your wolreeq?

HI THANK YOU FOR ASKING I AM SO HAPPY TO MEET A FELLOW ENJOYER i most definitely have one favorite detail ;3 the most basic of which is that my wol and lue-reeq are similar in so many ways.

when i first met reeq in the story and he says that he's on this cardinal virtue hunt to become the greatest hunter of all time, i was immediately like oh, that's just like tart! bc my wol also initially set out as an adventurer and scion in order to become the greatest hero of eorzea, haha. she was really wrecked by the events of post-stormblood, and being transported to a new world presents a chance to start over, so meeting a guy who is just like how she was in the past really rekindled tart's adventuring spirit

they are both also really dumb. i was howling when reeq was like "heyyy bestie it just occurred to me i forgot to ask your name lol didn't we become best friends sooo fast?" like buddy. my man. he is so lucky to have met my wol, who after saving thancred from praetorium thought she should introduce herself to him. bc tart thought thancred had been possessed by lahabrea the entire time lmao. anyone else and reeq would be screwed

they are both prideful people, too. i can't say the biggest example bc i should be writing that for my fanfic (head in hands) but there's also how their pride blinds them to the perils of their quest. tart in being the warrior of light has gotten herself killed multiple times, but still charges ahead and acts as a hero out of pride. she was also completely unaware of how her fame would get her targeted by people like teledji. reeq is similar in how he sees himself capable of facing andreia alone, right? yeah there's that, but also

if you did the lvl 80 role quest before liberating eulmore from vauthry and ran'jit, there's a line of dialogue in the role quest which gets altered to reflect the msq progression

reeq is a skilled archer. he's been passionate at it since childhood, and he is good enough at it to successfully hunt dangerous beasts-turned-sin-eater on his own. he wants to be acknowledged with this skill, so he thought to be the greatest hunter of all time, by defeating the current greatest hunter of all time. but she's now been turned to an angel, and here in angel city the god-king of mankind has declared that angels are not to be killed or defeated. and reeq is somehow completely blindsided by this fact. he's 18, there's little possibility he remembers eulmore before vauthry became dictator... but what he definitely remembers are stories about how hunters were famous and admired. he lets his pride as a hunter blind him to the obvious outcome

these two jumped into their respective quests without thinking, only looking to the eventual outcome that they'd be famous. they're shallow, dumb, too prideful for their own good. they don't deserve to be the heroes. and yet out of sheer dumb luck, tart being hydaelyn's chosen one, reeq being born a male mystel allowing him to avoid being taken by andreia, they're the ones who succeed.

then again, despite their shallow reasoning, they do it all because they find out that this is their calling. reeq says at the end of their adventure that he's never felt more alive than when he's on this journey with tart. that was how tart felt when she joined the scions, too. they grow to have deeper motivations, reeq to uphold the warriors of light's legacy, and tart to support alphinaud's resolve. they find their passions and do their best to be proper heroes

that's not even everything but i'll stop here www i didn't set out to ship my wol with reeq because they're similar, but it ends up becoming one of my favorite things about them! i love finding (and making up) parallels so much. they're both just little guys who are so lame and kinda suck. but they get better wwww

anyway thanks again for your question, i love talking about wolreeq so much especially mine--actually i've made a post about what i love about wolreeq in general too. but i love mine more hehe (i made up a ship name for them: lighthunter) please talk to me about them some more, i am demonstrably so normal and hinged about wolreeq. also have pics

[pixelmensupremacy]

State of denial

A/N: I'm joining on in the Joel simpage

Word count: 1.2K

WARNINGS: cheating, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cunnilingus, porn with little to no plot

Morals- an indicator of humanity the majority of humans possessed or at least they did up until the world, as they knew it before, radically changed. Anarchy and hopelessness had crushed many people’s mentality, forcing them to go against their core values in order to survive.

(Y/N) liked to believe –unlike most- she managed to preserve her morals despite the chaos everyone was forced to endure. For the most part, she stayed true to herself; anything she considered preventable- she avoided. She stuck to very common core values such as never betraying someone’s trust, especially one of her closest people; that was a line she never even imagined crossing. Except she began questioning her beliefs once she came across a man named Joel Miller.

A few months back the mysterious man had moved in a few blocks down from her and her boyfriend’s shared house. Out of curiosity and neighborly manners, but mostly curiosity, (Y/N) went to greet the guy. With a handful of homemade biscuits, neatly packed in a small box, she knocked on the door only to be greeted by a grumpy-looking man. At first, she wasn’t impressed by his chilly, unwelcoming exterior, though the more she learned about this Joel guy the more she was proven wrong by his intriguing nature and many talents.

Ever since (Y/N) got to know him better, she often found herself visiting her new neighbor, whose charm and thick accent had her mind wandering off to obscene scenarios. Inevitable guilt burdened her, though his presence calmed her mind; his rare, deep chuckles, his magical hands stroking the guitar strings made for a melody that entranced her into a state of blissful serenity. Enchanted by his presence, she forgot about the stale relationship she found comfort in and instead desired to be with Joel.

Fortunately for her, he reciprocated these feelings. Throughout their time spent together, a spark eventually sparked within Joel that brought to him emotions he had not experienced in a long while. A desire to be by her side and shower her with all the love he has emerged whenever she was around and even if he tried to hide it his actions gave him away. When he first began having these feelings, he was startled by how intense they were to the point where he tried to ignore them but they didn’t fade away. Her bright smile and caring nature made it impossible for him to discard the love he had developed for her; it was an internal battle he was destined to lose. So, one day he surrendered.

To say it was wrong to cheat on her boyfriend of two years was beyond an understatement, but damn did Joel’s dick make her forget everything. And- akin to an addiction- she couldn’t get enough of him. So came running back to him at any given chance.

His intense aura compounded with his skillful movements was bound to create an intoxicating combination of sinful pleasure (Y/N) utterly adored. Every thrust filled up her pussy in the most blissful way possible, whilst his strong- yet gentle- grip on her hips balanced her weight all the while keeping her grounded in the present moment. His name rolled off her tongue repeatedly like a mantra that kept her from completely ascending to another dimension as euphoria clouded any trail left of her rational thinking.

“What would your poor boyfriend think of this.” Joel teased mockingly, reminding her of her partner, who had escaped her conscience long ago. “You getting fucked by another man and enjoying every second of it.” He continued in between low moans; beads of sweat pricked on his skin, making it glow under the iniquitous moonlight.

“Yes, p-please.” She babbled, not even knowing what she begged for.

“You like that?” His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head backward so his lips barely touched her ear. In response, she hummed, too breathless to form coherent speech except for whines and whimpers of pure bliss.

Lewd sounds, composed of skin slapping skin, echoed across the bedroom; (Y/N)’s ass bounced with every merciless thrust of his that rocked her entire body. Her fingers gripped the sheets as pleasure weaved in her muscles; her vision blurred, indicating she was about to reach her peak.

“Joel… I’m.” She trailed off but was unable to finish her sentence due to Joel’s dick hitting her most sensitive spot. Though he didn’t need to hear the rest to understand what she wanted to say.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock.” He lightly bit on her earlobe before he picked up his pace, hitting her sweet spot at an animalistic rate. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

A moan ripped out of her throat at how his husky voice tingled her ears, each of these filthy words made her walls flutter; her hips jerked backward, in search of the sweet friction she so badly desired. With every thrust her knees weakened, her speech grew incoherent and her groans got louder.

“Joel I-“ (Y/N) whined; shocking waves rushed through her nervous system, sending a euphoric sensation to her brain. His name fell off her lips in the form of a high-pitched moan, whilst her cum generously coated his twitching cock.

Joel followed soon after; he groaned through gritted teeth as he reached his climax within her, covering her folds as a mark of their hidden relationship. Though he didn’t stop there, for he was far from done with her.

Lowering his head, he was faced with her soaked entrance dripping with their mixed cum, causing him to wet his lips at the lewd scene. With no hesitation whatsoever, he lapped at her glistening pussy, causing bumps to form on her sweaty skin. His name rolled off her plump lips once more, whilst he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves, nestled above her dripping hole.

“I bet he doesn’t treat you like this.” His voice rumbled against her core, sending chills down her spine; The vibrations of his deep voice massaged her clit, overstimulating her. “He doesn’t eat you out like I do.” He continued, his teeth grazing over her clit. “He can’t fuck you like me.” Joel went on before his tongue ran between her lips and all the way down her hole. With his index finger, he pushed inside of her all the while his mouth was focused on her clit. Once again (Y/N) was a moaning mess; her whole body burned in overstimulation that was both blissful and too much to handle. Though she couldn’t stop him, nor she wanted to; instead she relished the sensation of his mouth doing its wonders. Just when she was getting to her second orgasm he stopped only to plant a kiss on her temple.

“Why’d you stop?” (Y/N) whined, her puzzled (E/C) eyes met his.

“Showing you what you’re missing out on, while you’re still with that boy, fooling yourself that you love him.” He teased the tip of his cock on her entrance, his fingers tracing her wet folds with featherlight touches.

“And what do you suggest?” She asked jokingly, biting at her lip in anticipation of round two.

“You should follow your heart.” His genuine gaze bore right into her, implying the seriousness of his words.

“How philosophical.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew he was right.

Much to her disappointment, Joel retreated and laid beside her. Tired she snuggled against his side and she stayed silent. Now she had a lot to ponder upon; the events of today. The fate of her crumbling relationship was yet to be decided.

[furious-mango]

Uh, um… well… Alice Human Sacrifice [for science]

note: I dont know how the F this machine works, it's just a piece of questionable art

Imagine Myron as The White Rabbit. Yep, with big rabbit ears sticking out from under his classy cylinder. Beautiful. Love him so much. But lets get back to that damned song! (source of my childhood nightmares)

from here you'll see a combination of ыумукфд several english lyrics and direct translation from japanese. also i added some features from russian version of this song because:

I can

It's just good and carries different meanings and some kind of куаукутсуы references/ easter eggs

also i just realised that russian version is way more dark and creepy…

okay. after total decomposition it isn't a song anymore. just peaces of lyrics with my plot notes. sounds like bullshit but okay

Let's go!~

The First Alice went to the Land of Wonders She stood bravely before all dangers And left a bright red path [yeah, now the Devil's Acre is The Wonderland] This girl had some sort of destructive peculiarity (something that badly hurts people around her). Defending herself she killed a lot (accidentally at first) even if it wasn’t necessary.

Then Alice strayed too far Lost within the woods Giving in to all her sins Locking her away for good

Finally she ended up meeting Myron. He saw her power and thought “why don’t we try to use this energy as a battery for Panloopticon?”

Still her life remains a mystery 'till this very day If it weren't for the bloody trail, everything would be peacefulAs if she had never existed

Her red bloody path ends at the doors of iron cabin in the basement of Bentham’s House. [Actually, I think that didn’t worked so… we continue]

Second Alice was a tame And tender gentle man Singing songs to all the folks Who lived in Wonderland Whenever he would sing People gathered round

A talented singer became the second Alice. Enchanting people with his voice he could control them.

But his story had a sad ending: He was robbed of everything by a bullet. He blooms a single bright flower and withers away, loved by everyone.

Aand he was kidnapped. Of course, the bullet was with Dust, so very soon he has taken his place in the wax figures collection of the Bentham’s Museum.

It left a flower blooming sadly And those who loved him soon began to die go insane.

[That’s cruel but I think his peculiarity was evoking obsessive love with voice]

The third girl was fragile and innocent And no one believed that her words were a deceit

She sees future in her dreams and it scares her so she lies about them to avoid frightening people.

Lost within a crazy dream So afraid of death the girl Was mindless and warped

Nightmares about death and distortion haunt her (perhaps she foresaw emergence of hollowgasts or… who knows…). She’s the one who agreed to fell asleep using Dust, but never knew how long would that dreamless dream be…

Scarlet paths through the woods. Under a bush of blue roses the two will have tea. And afterward there'll be a ball at the palace. The Ace of Hearts is our ticket.

Here the plan seems to be clearer. Myron invited them personally.

Fourth Alice were a twins Wandering across the world They passed through many doors

[wait… is this a real Panloopticon reference???] Curious of this new place They traveled and explored The stubborn older sister The clever younger brother

Peculiarity of this twins is their bond. Actually they aren’t siblings. Thet are both one creature (like reflection in the mirror)

Were close to see the nature Of the true Alice at hand

They saw something they weren't supposed to see. And so…

Those poor children will never wake up from their sleep, Wonderland is waiting for the fifth Alice…

that last line scared me so much when I was a kid...

its 2am and i totally forgot what was the point of this song analysis. let's just think about that like it's AU where Myron has rabbit ears 'cause its so cute

[riahlynn101]

"It Takes a Village."

Dad for One Week: Day One

--

He’s cold. 

Winter had hit their village hard this year, adding another layer of burden to an already exhausting year. One tragedy after another hit the town - a plague here, a death there, and even the grocery store (the only one for miles around) caught fire. What made things even worse was the paranoia that one of their own might be responsible for such bad luck. 

Izuku would think this is ridiculous, but he does not have the luxury to do so.  

He sits near the tree line, watching numbly as the villagers (the people he’s grown up with) raze his childhood home to the ground. It’s a painful experience, one that he wouldn’t wish on any of his enemies. 

He should have expected this. After rumors started spreading of witchcraft, he should have known he would be one of the first blamed. They always had it out for him.

His mother had been unmarried (a terrible sin, in the eyes of the church, and therefore the towns’ people) when she brought him into the world. And though this cost Izuku so much, he could never bring himself to resent her. She was kind, and an amazing mother until scrofula stole her last breath. 

Once, as a small child, Izuku asked his mother about his father’s whereabouts. All the other kids had one, so why didn’t he?

The smile she gave him was….sad. 

“He’ll come for us one day, Izuku,” she would say, going about her daily chores. “He loves us; he’s just busy.”

But that one day never came. 

After his mother died, her body was properly taken care of, and respectfully laid to rest, Izuku sat in that cold, empty house for days on end. He waited and waited and waited, for this “mysterious” father that apparently loves them so much, but he never showed up.

He didn’t show up when Izuku fell apart in all the ways that mattered, becoming further divided from the villagers. 

He didn’t show up when Izuku cried out in the middle of the night, stomach empty and heart in shattered pieces. 

And he certainly didn’t show up when their home was burned down by the zealous villagers.

“A demon,” they used to call him, disgust written all over their faces, but look at them now. They celebrate the demolishing of something so precious to him, the last tie to his deceased mother. He cries silently, shoulders shaking. Izuku allows himself to mourn, at least for a second. Even if he himself doesn’t deserve this moment of reprieve, his mother does. 

The villagers will soon search the wreckage of the cottage for bones. It would be wise to move on before they put two-and-two together. 

Still cold, Izuku forces himself to stand up. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. In his haste, he forgot a jacket (not that his lovely neighbors gave him any time).

He pushes forward. The next town over has a train station. If he can stay there for a few months, make enough for a ticket to the nearest city, then he can put this all behind him.

A blast of wind sends snow flying into Izuku’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. He coughs, shivering becoming more violent. His muscles contract to keep as much heat as humanly possible.

“Just…have…to-” 

“Ah, Izuku, there you are!”

Izuku falls backwards, eyes widening. If one of the villagers finds him now, they might torture him. He would like to avoid that if at all possible. 

He looks up at the man in front of him. The man is taller than anyone Izuku’s ever laid eyes on before. Through his panic, he can’t place who this man is. He knows everyone in the village, and he’s never seen this man before. For one thing, the man is dressed….strangely. 

He wears a suit, but it's unlike any Izuku has ever seen before. It’s plainer than the ones worn by the dignitaries that come into the village once in a blue moon, it being all black with a white dress shirt. And his shoes aren’t pointed, nor heeled. 

More importantly, the man has red eyes - a mark of the devil. His hair is white, but that can be excused by any number of inflictions, or even old age. Many of the villagers’ have white hair of their own, usually brought on by the stress of day-to-day life. Though their hair is tinged gray and is nowhere near the shade of snow white this man’s hair is. 

Not that Izuku can judge him too harshly. His own hair (and his mother’s) has always garnered ridicule. The curly green strands being yet another thing that marked him as a “demon.” Thankfully, none of the villagers thought they were witches for the color, though he’s no stranger to being held down while it’s cut off. 

Still, there’s something “off” about this man. He scrambles back, looking between the open forest and the man. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. 

Izuku audibly swallows. If this man isn’t one of the villagers, then what is he doing lurking in the forest? He’s heard enough stories about fae and the like to err on the side of caution. 

It’s not an ideal solution, but he’s out of ideas. He can’t go back to the village anyways, unless he wants a taste of what a fair trial for a suspected witch is.

He clambers to his feet, sprinting for the forest. 

If he paces himself he can make it to the next town before sundown tomorrow. Maybe he’ll come across a cabin or shack on the way there, just somewhere to rest for a moment or two. 

“Agh!” 

Suddenly, forcefully, he’s yanked backwards. Two strong (warm) arms wrap around his middle, hoisting him off the snowy ground. He struggles, but doesn’t make a sound outside of the involuntary noises he makes when hitting whoever or whatever wants to hurt him. (It’s not like the villagers will help him anyway).

“Izuku.”

He freezes. It’s that man again. He must have given chase. 

“Leave me alone,” he says, voice shaking. “Please.”

The man hums. “It’s going to be alright, Izuku. You shall come home with me. You’ll be safe there, and I can explain to you everything.”

-x-x-x-

Izuku, to his credit, doesn’t make it easy for the man to carry him. He starts with trying to squirm and twist out of his hold, before escalating to biting and scratching. None of which fazes the man even a little. 

If he might have been imagining it, but he thinks the man might have actually been enjoying it. 

Eventually, energy being sapped by the below-zero temperatures, he had to scale back. But a stubborn part of him refused to give up. For the rest of the journey, Izuku hung limply in the man’s arms. He offered no help with his own weight. 

If the man wanted to bring him back to his house to torture, or kill him, then Izuku will not make it easy. 

-x-x-x-

The man takes him to his house, which is surprisingly not a cave lined with bones and carcasses of all the people he’s killed before. 

The house, which is more a cottage than anything, has a snow-covered roof and there’s a white picket fence bordering the yard. An outline of a garden-dead now, likely due to winter-sits just to the side of the house, hugging part of the fence. 

“We’re home,” the man says. 

Izuku renews his struggles. If this man gets him inside, then it’s all over. Escaping will be impossible. He’s far enough from the village now, and even if he’s not, they’ll likely mistake his screams for a coyote. 

He yells, thrashing and hitting. 

Once again, it doesn’t work. 

The feeling of warmth instantly makes him stop his struggles. He practically melts. His frostbitten skin tingling. 

He’s placed in front of a roaring fireplace. “Stay here,” the man tells him, wrapping a knitted blanket around him. Izuku’s hair is ruffled. 

He makes a face, but the feeling is kind of nice. Not many people interact with him so nicely. Less now that his mother’s gone. 

The man leaves. Now would be a good time to escape…but….

….he’s so warm. And this house doesn’t look scary. Maybe the man wants to help him?

He stares into the flames. They dance, warming his face but not becoming unbearable. The feeling reminds him of when he was younger and used to sit by the fireplace while his mother recounted stories from her own youth. 

Such a wild life, his mother led before having him. She never gave much away, but did slip-up now and again while retelling stories. Or maybe she did that on purpose, thinking Izuku old enough to understand and hold his tongue around others. 

“Here,” the man says, handing Izuku a mug hot to the touch. 

“What is it?” He asks, peering into the glass of dark liquid. 

“Try it.”

Izuku eyes him, sniffing the drink. Surviving his house being burned down, only to succumb to poisoning by a complete stranger would have to be one of the lamest ways to go. 

“I promise I didn’t poison it,” the man says, taking a sip from his own mug. 

Izuku studies him. Outside it was hard to tell, what with him trying to avoid being kidnapped, but up close, the man’s eyes almost look….red? But that’s impossible, only witches and heretics have eyes the color of fresh blood. 

Some of the villagers have red eyes, like Kacchan. So, maybe that’s not a good indicator of good or evil.

He pushes down his uneasiness.

“Okay,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his own. He winces back, the liquid burning his lips.

“Hot?”

Izuku nods. “Just a little. Uh…thank you, it’s good. Though, I’m not sure I’ve ever had something like this before.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Hot what?” 

“Hot chocolate. I used to make it for my brother and I all the time. He loved it.” The man has a wistful look on his face, smiling down at his cup. 

“Used to?” He finds himself asking, blowing on the surface of the drink. Despite his reservations, it really is delicious. It’s been awhile since he’s had any sweets. 

“Yes.” The man’s smile drops. “He’s dead now, unfortunately.” 

“Oh, sorry.”

They sit in silence after that. 

Izuku continues sipping his drink and staring into the flames. It doesn’t take long for his cup to empty. He stares dejectedly into the now-empty mug. 

“Gone?” The man asks, his own mug no longer in his hands. 

He nods. 

“I find all the best things are gone too soon.” There’s something to the man’s words. Some meaning hidden behind a gentle tone. “Well, I suppose you should rest now.”

Izuku puts his mug down. “Thank you, mister….”

“Akatani.”

“Mister Akatani. But I need to leave.”

“In this weather? No, come, stay,” The man says, taking his empty mug. Before his hand can close around the cup, Izuku sees what looks like a small hole in the center of his palm. 

He must be seeing things.

But something in him is telling him that needs to go. That whoever Mister Akatani really is, is no concern of his. 

“I will manage, and anyway, I would hate to impose on someone as nice as yourself.”

“Mmm, nonsense. Come, stay for the night. It would put my mind at ease. If you’re really in such a rush, you can leave after breakfast tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

Izuku looks over the man, who’s sitting in an armchair. As strange as he looks, and as many alarm bells that are going off inside whenever he looks at the man, Izuku would rather avoid going back outside for as long as humanly possible. One night can’t hurt, right?

“Okay,” he agrees. “But just for tonight. And I sleep right here.”

Izuku is too busy making himself comfortable to see the corners of the man’s mouth uptick into a wide, almost crazed-looking smile. “That’s just fine. Just fine, indeed.”

-x-x-x-

Izuku wakes up-not on the floor in the dim, cold light of a winter’s morning-but sprawled out on a bed fit for royalty. A lantern of some sort sits on the table next to the bed, giving him a decent view of the room. 

The floor is covered in some sort of short wool, it tickles his feet when he dares to stand up. The feeling is nice, way better than stepping on cold dirt. 

Izuku knows he should be panicking, because surely the man was a fae, or creature of old, and by accepting his “gift” of hot chocolate, he’s been transported to another land. 

He allows his fingers to dance over the wall, dragging them across as he walks the entirety of the room. The walls are a deep red (like the man’s eyes), and there’s a bookshelf bigger than Izuku himself in a far corner. Books are shoved on the shelves. A pang of sadness goes through him when he realizes he can’t read a single word on the spines of the books. 

He takes a step back. 

Before he can decide to do something else, there’s this horrible screeching sound, and then a door he hadn’t noticed previously opens. 

The man walks in. His suit is replaced by a cleaner one. “Izuku,” he says, “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

“W-where am I?” He asks. “What are you?” If the creature decides to attack him here and now, there’s not much Izuku can do. He may not care if he dies, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go down swinging. 

“Regrettably, human.”

“What is this place?”

“Somewhere safe. You’ll be protected here.”

Somehow Izuku doubts that, but this world is strange and unfamiliar. So, until he can learn more (and escape), he’ll just have to bide his time.

[hannahsmusings]

Renee

*I wanted to make a comment about how I was a good swimmer, but I refrain, not wanting to piss him off any further than I already had… and also all the blood immediately rushed to my core as he started climbing out of the car and I nearly forgot how to breathe, how to speak, how to even fucking think* *my eyes traitorously take in his body when his face was covered with his towel, refusing to let him know that I found him so attractive, but god damn his body was perfect, I knew drivers had to be in tip-top shape but my god, he was like a Monegasque god or something, my eyes raking over his chest and abs and those v-lines that were so fucking sinful and beautiful, ripping my eyes away from them to meet his face when he moved his towel to dry off his body, trying to regulate my breathing and body temp, wishing I could jump in the pool to cool myself down* I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry for manipulating you and taking advantage of you… I’m sorry for letting it get as far as it did and not walking away from you or just introducing myself as, well, me. You’re right… how can I expect you to respect me and trust me when I did that to you? It wasn’t fair and I’m just… I’m sorry. I was angry at you for saying such harsh and crude things about me before you even knew me and I wanted to get even which is so immature and stupid and just… embarrassing on my end. *I let out a breath once I was done speaking, the words having tumbled out of me a bit, Charles being a bit intimidating already since he was such a well known and successful driver, but also having him standing here half naked and looking like that made it a bit more daunting for me to face him* I really want us to start over. I want you to give me a chance, a proper one. 

______________________________

*i was fully expecting this to be a continuation of our early conversation where you’d get the chance to argue your side and then you’d exert your superiority over me and that would be the end of it so when I hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ my head snaps up, eyes locked on yours as my movements with my towel pause for a second, looking at you in surprise* *i wanted to interrupt but the words were tumbling from your lips and the more you said the more my anger was disappearing, the humiliation remained but seeing you apologise was the most genuine I’d seen from you, the most human and I couldn’t help but like it* *i let you speak and get it out, my eyes analysing your nerves and the way you avoided my gaze, always being good at picking up on small things, it being part of what made me a good driver, liking to see that you were nervous about this interaction as it meant you cared* I want that too. Fresh start. Fred is special to me, I’m sorry I doubted your skills before I’d met you. *sighs a little as I run my hand through my wet hair* I need to know I can trust you and I want you to be able to trust me. This isn’t going to work otherwise.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Avoiding The Bitter Fruit

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ Romans 6:2 By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY 

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+ Proverbs 1:30-31  They rejected my advice

 and paid no attention when I corrected them.31 Therefore, they must eat the bitter fruit of living their own way, choking on their own schemes.

========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM NOT EATING BITTER FRUIT

I AM FREE INDEED

I AM LOVING MY NEIGHBORS

I AM LIVING RIGHTEOUSLY

********************************

THOUGHTS:

=======================

  I use to work at Lowes in the blind department and very randomly we had to cut blinds for people and I use to hate doing that and we had to measure and place them on this machine ,but before we  could place the blinds on the table to cut them we had to make sure they where lined up evenly and this was the step I always forgot to do , long story short.

One day I had my supervisor ask me how did I always miss this step and I would apologize and say I didn’t mean to or whatever, until one day I went to cut them my supervisor stood and watched me and right before I placed them on the table he said you almost forgot to do it Lui and after some many hours training etc , I learned not to forget this step. 

  Sometimes, we reject the advice given because we are focused on doing it our way;, and we feel we can reject the advice without consequences. When God corrects us, he is trying to prevent us from having issues or situations, but because of our stubbornness, we sometimes have to eat the bitter fruit; I had to eat the bitter fruit of what I refuse to do which was so simply easy ,right? like when God asks us to stop, Why do we find it so hard to stop ? because we feel that we could get away with it and that’s why I felt that I could do it the easiest way , because I hated , to measure the blinds , was it right?no, sometimes we must stop trying to do everything our way and do it, God’s way so we won't have to eat the bitter fruit. 

  It pains God to see us choking on our own downfall, and it hurts God to see his children go through, but if we refuse, what can he do? He won't ever make us do what he wants, but he will let things occur so we can see that his way was better; God will show us as we are choking on the bitter fruit ,how much we wish we would've done it his way.

Take Jonah for example he ran from God instead of doing what he wanted that he was placed in a belly of a whale. I know he had to wish he would've done it God's way, and it tells us so in " Jonah 2:9 But I, with shouts of grateful praise,  will sacrifice to you. What I have vowed I will make good.   I will say, ‘Salvation comes from the Lord.’”

    God will place us where we want; and he will let us do whatever it is we think we wanted to do and let us find out how this is a bad idea, but it is up to us to do the right thing the first time which is allowing God to direct our steps, which is allowing God to show us the way when we allow God to show us the way we won’t endure the pain and suffering of what we wanted because we listened to God .

   " Proverbs 14:14 The backslider in heart will be filled with the fruit of his ways and a good man will be filled with the fruit of his ways."

   It is so many fruits that can be consumed, but the one in this verse is the ones that filled their hearts with fruits of doing things their way; when we do things our way, and we have fallen from the will of God, the fruit isn't juicy it isn't fulfilling, but when we do IT HIS WAY , and what he asked us to do that fruit tastes so much better than because it’s fruit given to us by God , it’s fruit that was produce from obedience!

  ***Today God doesn't want us to eat the fruit that is going to cause us discomfort. He is going to do all he can to stop us from going down that road, but it is up to us to listen; it is up to us to do what he likes and not question it; a lot of times, we question it because we feel we know it all, but we dont, God, is trying to tell some of us today the reason why your life is going the way it is because you won't listen to me start listening to God today and taste the fruit he’s trying to give you!  ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father we thank you for everything , we ask you to forgive us of the sins we have done . We thank you for mercy and grace . Father help us to avoid the bitter fruit , by opening our ears to hear you . Father we don’t want to endure the pain of disobedience. Lord help us to do the right thing . Father we ask right now that you help us to do better , help us to obey you through whatever we think is right . Help us to see your the almighty God and that your way is the best way . Lord we thank you so much for everything in Jesus Name Amen

========================

REFERENCES 

========================

+Psalm 81:11 But my people did not listen to my voice; Israel would not submit to me

+ Proverbs 14:14 The backslider in heart will be filled with the fruit of his ways, and a good man will be filled with the fruit of his ways.

+ Job 4:8 As I have seen, those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same.

========================

FURTHER READINGS 

=========================

Ecclesiastes 7:9-18

2 Corinthians 7:8-16

Psalm 48:1-14

Proverbs 22:17-19

=========================

[iv-aur-y]

'𝑔;- their ex

prompt ;; when you run into their ex for the first time

characters ;; xiao, diluc, kazuha & scaramouche

foreword ;; i was thinking abt writing a oneshot for zhongli, comforting him for his past and this just came to mind, so enjoy! f! reader (dw, the zhongli oneshot will be out in due time, as well)

'𝓍𝒾𝒶𝑜;-

It was a surprise really, Xiao had had a relationship prior? It was an inexplicable situation, such as actions speak louder than words;

"Goodness, it would seem you already forgot about me, Xiao."

The couple turned to face the person who called upon them, well only [Name] turned. Xiao stayed still, refusing to meet eyes with someone he used to know so well. They were the first person who calmed him, the first person he had opened up to, and the first person he'd left right after.

He had thought of them to simply ignore and disappear from his world, to berate him for his past and his sins. He had thought that they would curse him for leaving them behind, but they chose the wrong person to give an earful to, "Listen, I'm not sure what you two are, but it must be nice receiving his love when you tore it right apart from me. I hope you're happy with what you've done to me."

[Name] could see their eyes shine, watery clumps lining them. "You have no right to be saying that." the tortoise-haired adeptus spoke, and the person in front of them bit down on their lips. Their hair whipping in Xiao's direction as their legs paced them far.

His gaze lingered on them, and moments after he averted his eyes, his hold on her wrist tightening. But [Name] knew better to use his past against him, so she settled on calming him down. Rubbing her hands up and down his back in a soothing manner, and simply waiting for him to loosen up.

'𝒹𝒾𝓁𝓊𝒸;-

Jean. She was the acting grand master of the Knights of Favonius, normally it would've been quite hard to see her, or even catch a mere glimpse of her, yet as the co-leader of the renaissance division, some days, [Name] saw her much more often than Diluc.

They weren't on bad terms, rather pretty close. Diluc's and Jean's relationship prior to [Name]'s was nothing more of an engagement made by the elders. Jean held no hard feelings towards either of two, and was quite happy to see them together.

'𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒;-

The Balladeer was a man who told nothing but deceitful lies, and even to his lover, his antics were no less harsh, nor toned down. He had a brash nature, so even the thought of having a relationship with someone was beyond him.

As a fatui harbinger, the man, himself, was not allowed to have any weaknesses. Even as the Kunikuzushi of the Electro Archon, he was cast aside for having flaws, so having to abandon his previous lover was a decision he had made. which led him to love someone much more formidable than some random human.

"Why do you keep staring at them?" he tsked, pacing farther from her. [Name]'s eyebrow's furrowed, she knew something was wrong but she couldn't pinpoint it exactly. His gaze was strong but so, so melancholic. It was as if he hadn't gotten over something from the past, or that he was reminded of something.

As she stood thinking about the many possibilities, he had already vanished from her sight. That day, he had avoided her the entire time. Even if there was a mission he was assigned to do with her, he'd bail and ask to given something else. And it wasn't later that week, [Name] could even catch a glimpse of his face.

"Scaramouche!" she bounded over with her usual cheery smile. He admitted it was something that brought light to his day, but it wasn't something that a harbinger such as her should have been sporting. So care free, he thought.

"Scaramouche this, Scaramouche that. Look what I got over the weekend, listen to me talk about my day. Just shut up! Leave me alone for once, you're so annoying." he yelled, fed up with her constant attempts to start a conversation. He had pushed her away from his figure, regretting it almost immediately. But his stubborn nature, and his pride kept him from apologizing, or even offering to do so.

She clenched her fists, "The Tsaritsa said that for the past week you've been to preoccupied with a certain individual, so she told me to warn you, that unless you focus on your work again, I'll be the one to end their life in front of you." she paused as Scaramouche's expression twisted in horror, "I looked at their background to see who she was talking about, and they were your lover, weren't they?"

[Name] saw his jaw clench, as he pushed past her. Leaving her stumbling to gather her balance once again. She wasn't mad, she wasn't upset or anything. But the embarrassment of having to deal with such a situation was too much for her. Her subordinates could do nothing but disperse as they took in the commotion of the two harbingers.

How pitiful.

[Name]'s first meeting with Scaramouche's ex left a worse impression on their own relationship than their past ones.

'𝓀𝒶𝓏𝓊𝒽𝒶;-

As charming as Kazuha is, it shouldn't have surprised [Name] so much that he would've had a lover before her. She knew her boyfriend well, but apparently not well enough. Though the news didn't really mean much to her, she pretended to be upset to receive kisses.

[peaceisadirtyword]

Heathen V (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N: Hello! I might have gotten a bit carried away with this(?) Sorry😅 I hope it’s not too boring though🥺 I was just going to rewrite the ending and suddenly... I had 1000 more words💀 anyway, I hope you like it!♥️ In this chapter I talk about norse mythology and christianity, and even if I’ve read about it (norse mythology, at least) I’m by no means an expert, so I had to consult some friends and people I know that are professionals. In any case, I’m sorry if I wrote anything wrong, please tell and forgive me.

Btw, thank you so much for your messages! I’m feeling better now🥰 I watched some videos of Alex and Marco and I calmed down a bit! I suppose I just need to relax a bit, it’s okay, but seriously thank you for your messages and for always being so understanding with me💞🙏🏻

Warnings: talk about religion, mentions of violence, war and all that sh1t... Ivar is too perfect I’d like to marry him but, unfortunately, I can't 

Words: don’t hate me but there’s 5492 words under this... I hope it’s worth it (?)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

For Edlynn, it was both scary and hypnotizing to see Ivar learning how to read. He seemed to understand things quickly and even if they didn't really have any materials for him to practice writing, Edlynn saw him carving letters on wood more than once, like he did with the runes. In a few days, Ivar could understand some parts of the books, even if he still needed help, and Edlynn remembered bitterly how much time it took for her to learn basic words and how many times the priest that taught her and her siblings scolded her.

In return, Ivar agreed to tell her a bit more about his culture. He talked about the Gods, even showed some runes to her, she asked him to show her their longships, and was amazed by the carvings and the designs. Sometimes, she'd ask him to translate some words from English to Norse, and soon became obsessed with his language, trying to memorize everything she could for when she went back home. Mildrith would love it. 

"Can we go back to reading?" Ivar sighed, raising an eyebrow when Edlynn asked him to translate a few words more. He had spent the entire day with Hvitserk and was on a good mood, but he was also tired. 

"Yes, sorry" she blushed a bit, realizing her eagerness was probably improper "Just one more, please" 

Ivar nodded slowly. He found her excitement adorable, and he had to hold back a smile more than once when she tried to repeat some words with a soft voice. 

"How do you say sun and moon?" she tilted her head, curiously "It's true that they are Gods for you?" 

Mildrith had told her once that the northman she had been with had told her that they worshipped the sun and the moon, as if they were Saints or Gods. And, for some reason, Edlynn became obsessed with it. 

"Those are two words" Ivar smirked "But they are Sól and Máni, and they are Gods, yes, but slightly different from the Aesir and the Vanir" he shrugged "It's a long story"

Edlynn waited a few more seconds, maybe expecting for him to keep telling the story. 

"So the moon is a Goddess?"

Ivar hummed, nodding. 

"She's a woman, sister to Sól, the sun" he shrugged.

"That makes sense" Edlynn bit her lip, interested "But, how can you say they are a man and a woman? They're not humans" she smiled softly, amused "They can't be man and woman" 

"But they are" Ivar frowned "It's like that story of yours about the Virgin, I've heard that one before, how can you tell she was a virgin?" he shrugged. 

"Because God chose her to carry his son, the one who would bring His word to us"

"You christians are too obsessed with virginity" Ivar rolled his eyes. Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and cleared her throat. 

"It's a sin not to be a virgin when you get married"

"Yes, I've heard a lot about those sins" Ivar nodded "And I still think it's ridiculous, why would your God demand that you deny the pleasure of having sex to yourselves?"

"It's an act of purity, of faith" Edlynn narrowed her eyes. She knew the northmen were much less... Traditional, with these things, and sometimes she felt somehow curious. It wasn't a topic that was very discussed at the court, and much less at home with her father... Once, Edlynn and Mildrith saw a couple on the stables and asked Hilda about it. The nun was so angry at them that she made them pray for hours, and then made them promise they wouldn't go around talking about it.

"It's stupid" Ivar shrugged "You would be much happier if you forgot about that"

The girl pressed her lips together, a bit bothered. Ivar's smirk showed he was trying to get a reaction from her, but Edlynn wouldn't start arguing. 

"I didn't expect a heathen to understand it" she shrugged.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head. 

"I've spent maybe too much time around christians to understand many things, but I still believe your God is weak" he licked his lips "Compared to Odin and Thor, he's weak and demanding"

She ignored him, looking back at the books and parchments they were studying. Finally, Ivar stood up, making Edlynn raise her head as he walked over to the bed, and sat down to take his braces off. She watched as his fingers worked quickly on them, freeing his legs. When Ivar started taking his clothes, she stiffened, blushing again, and stood up to tidy the books and avoid looking at him. If she had looked, she would have seen Ivar's amused smile. 

"The day and the night are also man and a woman" he continued, startling Edlynn. She turned to look at him, curious, but turned around when she realized he was shirtless "What? Are you also not allowed to look at me?"

"It's not proper" she muttered, looking down. During the nights she had been sharing his tent, she always slept with her back turned to him, and usually she would already be asleep when he went to bed. 

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" 

Edlynn hesitated, but finally turned around. He was doing it to bother her, and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working. The sight left her breathless. Ivar was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but not only his face was beautiful; he was strong, she had already noticed it when he grabbed her for the first time. Edlynn tried her best to avoid staring at his beautiful hair, collected in braids and tied that fell down his back and shoulder. 

"Dagr is the day, and he's the son of Nótt, the night, Odin gave each of them a chariot that they can ride on the sky... And two horses, Skinfaxi and Hrímfaxi" his own finger pointed at his chest, which was crossed by dark lines. Those strange drawings on his skin were normal among the northmen; she had seen those on their arms, necks, faces... It was weird but she had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid asking about them. 

Ivar had also another one on his back. Edlynn couldn't see much, but from the few glimpses she had caught, it looked like a snake. The ones he showed now had an intricate pattern, and she frowned softly while looking at them. 

"They don't look like horses" 

That made Ivar chuckle, but he didn't say anything else as she approached him, her eyes still fixed on his chest. When she was close enough, she raised her hand slowly. 

"Can I?" 

Ivar tensed, but finally nodded softly. Edlynn didn't know what to expect when her fingers touched the dark ink, but was somewhat surprised by the feeling of his skin. It was warm and his muscles tensed under her touch when her finger roamed around his chest following the lines. It was hypnotizing, and she couldn't feel anything else that wasn't Ivar. 

She found his necklace. It was always hidden under his clothes, so it caught her attention. The question was written all over her face when she looked at his eyes again. 

"Mjölnir" he answered quietly "Thor's hammer" 

Edlynn nodded. She had heard about that, and thought it would be something like the cross that hang from her own neck. 

Finally, she moved her hand backwards, almost like she just realized what she was doing and was suddenly too shy to keep touching him. Ivar's eyes were still fixed on Edlynn as she turned around, getting away from him faster than he would have liked, and soon she was laying on her side of the bed, with her back turned to him and her body tense and stiff, not bothering to cover herself. 

______________________________

Edlynn was amazed by the shieldmaidens. She had heard about them more than once, since she was a kid, and sometimes imagined herself with a sword when she watched her brother, Edward, train with their father. But when she said it once, during dinner, everyone turned to look at her with widened eyes. Both her father and her sister reprimanded her; the battlefield is no place for women, you're needed at home, praying and taking care of the children. 

Since then, the thought hadn't crossed her mind again. 

She also saw the two viking women training when they were staying with King Alfred. They moved gracefully, and easily defeated male warriors, it was entertaining and interesting to see, and Mildrith and her would always sit and watch her, but always under the stern gaze of their fathers. Once, the blonde woman she had often seen with Bishop Heahmund offered them to try. Edlynn remembered the soft smile and how she approached them. She was sure her face lightened up, but as soon as she opened her mouth, Lord Eldred was behind her, he gripped her shoulder with maybe too much force. His daughter wouldn't go near a sword, he had said sternly. And the viking woman sighed, shooting her a sad smile before leaving. 

But in that camp, even with her wrists tied and three northmen around her, she was free to watch as much as she wanted. 

There was a group of many women, training with her swords, axes and shields. They fought fiercely, but laughing and hugging each other, and Edlynn was amazed. She barely blinked and didn't know how much time she had been there watching them. The women didn't seem to care, and she felt more at ease around them than around the men. 

But when she turned her head, startled by some other sounds coming from her right, something else caught her attention. The first thing she saw was Hvitserk dodging a dagger as he trained with another viking. She knew that dagger, and soon her eyes fixed on Ivar, who was leant on a tree and smirked softly. He had a horn on his hand, and his eyes shone as they only did when he was around his brother. Next to him, Edlynn saw some arrows and a wooden bow, an axe and another sword.

He hadn't seen her, and she stayed silent and still, watching. He was relaxed, laughing and had a playful smirk on his lips. In some way, he was even more handsome. Soon, he got tired of just watching and grabbed the bow and arrows, tensing it slowly. His gaze was fixed on the tree in front of him, and Edlynn couldn't help but stare at him as his whole body tensed. She remembered when her brother learnt archery, when his arms were always shaking. Ivar didn't move a single muscle until he shoot the arrow. 

"Don't miss, brother, you have an audience" Hvitserk's voice startled both Ivar and Edlynn, and when his eyes finally landed on her, his expression changed. She wasn't able to point exactly what changed, but Ivar barely looked at her. 

"See something you like, princess?" 

Edlynn felt her cheeks burn, and pressed her lips together when she heard the guards and some other men chuckling behind her, refusing to let them see her. Ivar also smirked, leaning to grab another arrow. 

"I was just watching" she muttered. Ivar looked amused when he turned his head to look at her. 

"Want to try?" he pointed at the tree. Edlynn hesitated, knowing that grabbing a bow and shooting arrows wasn't proper. But then again... There was no one there to scold her, right? And probably, if King Alfred reached an agreement with them, she wouldn't have to see any of them again. 

She nodded softly, feeling a strange rush of excitement like the ones she used to feel when she was little and did something that was strictly forbidden. Ivar nodded at the guards and they let her go after untying her wrists. 

"I don't think you have done this before, am I right?"

Edlynn narrowed her eyes at him and snatched the bow from his hands, making him laugh. It was heavier than she ever thought, and nearly let it fall to the ground. But she could already imagine how much the men would laugh if she dropped the bow. 

"Turn around" Ivar ordered, and Edlynn obeyed slowly, still hesitating and nervous because of all those pairs of eyes fixed on her, studying her every move. She wasn't a warrior, but a noble lady that lived  in a castle, so her movements were clumsy and not graceful at all. 

She startled and nearly jumped when Ivar's hands touched her waist. 

"What are you doing?" she whispered, widening her eyes. 

"Don't you want to learn?" Ivar shrugged, an innocent tone on his voice that Edlynn didn't believe. 

His strong hands moved her effortlessly, and she tried not to blush even more when she felt Ivar's body closer to hers. She could even feel his breathing behind her neck. 

Ivar worked in silence, making sure she was on the right position before taking a new arrow. Edlynn frowned when she tensed the bow and her arms started shaking, even if Ivar was the one that practically held it behind her. 

"Stop shaking" he scolded her, and Edlynn could hear some chuckles around her. Some of the shieldmaidens had stopped training and came to watch. The saxon girl making a fool of herself, how amusing. 

Ivar's closeness, his scent and his body practically wrapped around her weren't helping. Edlynn felt her heart beating faster and faster as his fingers touched hers to position them around the arrow. 

"Now" he muttered into her ear when he was finally satisfied "Loose"

Edlynn tried her best to point at the tree, but the arrow flew next to it and got lost into one of the bushes. 

Everyone laughed. She could even hear Ivar chuckling next to her ear, and her cheeks reddened again. She glared at them and scoffed. 

"It's fine, you'll get better if you practice" Ivar had a smile on his lips, but Edlynn couldn't say if he was mocking her or actually being nice. 

One of the northmen said something loudly in their language, making everyone laugh even harder. Ivar sighed and shook his head, but had that small smirk on his face. 

Narrowing her eyes, Edlynn reached for another arrow, making everyone stop laughing and look at her with an eyebrow raised. Ivar had an even bigger smile on his face when she turned to look at him. 

"I want to try again"

_______________________________

Mildrith was furious. She couldn't understand why they kept discussing God knows what in that tent when Edlynn was held as a prisoner in the enemies' camp. It was true that she was more calmed now that the scout came back and assured she was well and unharmed. Mildrith always knew her friend would survive; Edlynn was strong and smart, but she also knew they could have hurt her in many ways. Especially Ivar the Boneless. 

She almost shivered when she thought about him. Mildrith had always wanted to see Ivar at least once, to see if what they said was true, but to be captured by him? Her mind had replayed every single story she had heard about that heathen from the women of York. 

Even that young viking she had had a quick affair with had talked about him; he was the most letal of the sons of Ragnar, a monster. 

And King Alfred knew it! He had met him more than once, he had been fighting in York after the Great Heathen Army killed both his grandfathers. How he had allowed them to keep Edlynn for so long was a mystery to her. 

Hilda kept praying, kneeled at the feet of what one day was Edlynn's bed with a cross between her hands. Mildrith didn't understand what praying would do, God didn't help her before and it seemed he wouldn't help her now. She was also angry at Him. 

More than once, she had wished she could use a sword so she could enter the northmen's camp and free her. 

"Mildrith" the nun sighed. She had dark circles under her eyes and her voice sounded weak. Hilda had barely slept or ate since Edlynn, the little girl she had raised almost as if she was her own, had been taken. She prayed day and night, hoping she would be well and no one would hurt her in any way "Please, stop pacing around the tent, sit here with me and let's pray"

"I don't want to pray" the young, raven-haired girl, clenched her fists, glaring at her "I want them to get out of that tent and go find Edlynn"

"They can't do that" Hilda sighed, her trembling hands rubbing her own face "The king is doing everything he can, Mildrith, and you know it, he appreciates Edlynn a lot, but they're asking for a high price, and he must think about the rest of the country too"

Mildrith scoffed. She hated it, she hated politics, war and negotiations. She couldn't understand it. They were in their own country! They were stronger! Why couldn't they just raise a bigger army to go and free her?

"We have do something" 

"We can't" the nun shook her head "You know we can't, we can only have faith and hope she will be returned to us soon"

The young girl sighed, sitting down on the bed. She didn't want to have faith nor pray, she wanted her friend back. Her only comfort was to know that Edlynn would have many stories to tell, when she came back. 

___________________________________

"They're asking for all of that, for a young woman?" 

Alfred raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the man who just spoke. 

"They're not asking anything, my lord, they demand all of this" he explained, slowly "And Edlynn isn't just a young woman, she is a dear friend, the daughter of one of my most trusted advisors and the sister to one of the men that I trust with my life every day"

"They want gold" Lord Eldred sighed. He was pale and had lost weight, Alfred hadn't seen him sleep nor eat for days "A lot of gold... And land, more land?" he sounded desperate. 

"Yes, but separated from the land I gave to Björn and Ubbe Ragnarsson" the king rubbed his face "They also want a truce, some time to settle on our lands" 

"That's the part that worries me" Lord Eldred shook his head "Why do they want time to settle? Do I have to choose between my daughter's death and a possible invasion?"

"We don't know if they plan an invasion, my lord" Alfred shrugged "For now, I am trying to save your daughter's life before anything else" 

"She must be so scared" her father rubbed his eyes "All alone, surrounded by barbarians, God knows what they are doing to her"

"Our scout assured she was unharmed, Lord Eldred, I believe him" the king softened his tone "Ivar won't hurt her for as long as we don't anger him" 

"I will pay as much as I can" Lord Edmund spoke for the first time since the reunion started "To ensure my lady's safe return"

Her father looked at her with a sad smile. 

"Thank you, my lord" Alfred nodded "The messenger is out there, ready to leave for their camp to give them our reply"

"What do you say, my king?" Queen Elsewith put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred took her hand softly and sighed, looking down at the table. For days, he had been thinking about his decision, trying to find the best solution for all of them. If he agreed, there would be consequences, Ivar would know he had an advantage, many of his lords wouldn't agree with him. If he refused, Edlynn would suffer things worse than death before her head was sent to them, he was nearly sure of that. 

Edlynn was a good girl. Responsible, obedient and polite. They had played together when they were children, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was Elsewith whom they wanted. Would they have so many doubts about saving her or not if it had been his queen?

He sighed. 

"I say we agree" he nodded "And that we will meet them in the forest to give them what they want in exchange for Lady Edlynn"

____________________________________

Ivar's arms hurt. It had been a while since he practiced so much archery, and the muscles of his back and arms were already sore when he retired to the tent. His face also hurt from laughing so much, and he didn't remember when was the last time he had laughed so much, probably it was when he was still with Igor. He couldn't help but smile softly remembering the kid he had learnt to love as if he was his own son. 

Before entering the tent, he could hear Edlynn whispering some words in English. He supposed she'd be reading, as she used to do since he let her read the books freely. He had to wait outside to force himself to stop smiling like an idiot before entering. 

Edlynn raised her head and smiled softly when he entered the tent. In part, it was because of her he had had so much fun that day, he never guessed that teaching archery to a saxon girl could be that entertaining.

She was also tired. Her arms hurt and she only wanted to get into bed and sleep, but at the same time every time she closed her eyes, with her head leant on the soft pillows and inhaled Ivar's scent her mind went back to his hands around her waist, his breath on her neck and the soft whispers with which he had guided her. She even remembered the small smile she had seen on his face when she had finally managed to struck the tree and her cheeks would redden. Now, seeing him entering the tent leant onto his crutch with clouded eyes from drinking so much mead, laughing with his brother and even letting himself take a nap next to the fire, made her heart beat faster again. 

"How are you, princess?" the playful tone made her nearly sigh in relief. He was still in a good mood.

"Tired" she muttered "But fine, it was... Interesting, to use a bow" 

Ivar hummed softly, sitting down on the bed as Edlynn closed the huge book she had on the bed, leaning to leave it on the floor, next to the bed, she kneeled behind him and watching him as he fiddled with the braces. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say but wanting to keep talking to him. 

"The men were quite impressed with you" he said, not looking at her "A shame we don't have time, I'm sure we could turn you into a fine shieldmaiden" 

Edlynn tried to hide her excited smile. 

"Really?" 

This time Ivar turned around a bit. His amazing eyes fixed on her curving lips before landing on her eyes. 

"Yes, I think you have potential, it would be though, we'd have to work a lot with those little arms and small hands, but we could do something" he shrugged "But we can't, you're too eager to go back to your castle, your husband and your dresses"

Her smiled faded slowly as he turned away once again. It was true she really wanted to see and hug Mildrith, Hilda, Edward and her father, but at the same time, she didn't want to say goodbye to Ivar. 

At first, she had been scared, even tried to run thinking those heathens would torture and kill her, remembering all those stories she had heard about the ruthless Ivar the Boneless. But that playful, blue-eyed northman that she had seen giggling with his brother, telling stories about his Gods and who had guided her until she had finally succeeded with the bow didn't look like the monster they described on their stories. It was almost human; a human with his own beliefs and ambitions that wasn't so different from all those men she had met in England. 

"Lord Edmund is not..."

"Not your husband yet, I know, princess" he chuckled "But he will be soon, right? Even if I would advise you to reconsider that marriage, taking in consideration that he didn't came to this camp to cut my head off for taking his woman" 

Edlynn chuckled. She knew Lord Edmund couldn't really make that decision, besides, she didn't expect him to risk his life for a woman he just met. 

"I can't reconsider anything, actually" she smiled sadly "It wasn't my decision" 

Ivar raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. Then he moved to take off his clothes, and Edlynn looked away with her cheeks flushed. 

"If I was your father, then, I wouldn't give my daughter to a man that wouldn't die for her" 

"I can't ask him that" she smiled, his words warmed her heart "He barely knows me" 

"Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone you loved?" Ivar got rid of his shirt, and Edlynn couldn't help but take a look of the dark lines of his back, shaped like a snake. 

"I..." she frowned "I will learn to love him, he's... He's good, a good man, he's nice and handsome and... I'm lucky that he chose me, I know many women that had to marry old men that didn't treat them well... Also, I don't know anyone who married for love" she chuckled. With time, she convinced herself that love was built, not found. All those tales Hilda had told her when she was little were fantasy. 

"I married for love" Ivar muttered, almost like he didn't mean for Edlynn to hear "I did love the woman I married"

She felt as if someone had kicked her chest. Suddenly, she stopped looking at him and felt stupid for even feeling sad about the fact that he had a wife. Of course he had a wife. 

Ivar groaned as he laid on the bed, covering his legs with the furs and closing his eyes as he relaxed against the pillows. 

"I didn't know you were married"

Ivar opened his eyes, looking up with what she could describe as a heartbroken expression. 

"I was" he muttered "Some time ago" 

Edlynn tilted her head with curiosity. 

"What happened to her?" she almost felt bad for asking, but Ivar didn't seem to mind. 

"She died" his jaw clenched "She betrayed me and she died"

"And... how was she?" 

"She was... Beautiful" he almost smiled, and Edlynn bit her lip, looking down "She looked like Freyja, she was blonde and had blue eyes" 

The opposite of me, she thought, and immediately felt stupid for even thinking it. 

"She sounds pretty" she smiled softly, hating that sad look on his eyes. Ivar then turned his head to look at her, and blinked slowly, almost like he was realizing something. 

"I've only loved three women in my life" he shrugged "And one of them was my mother" 

His face contorted again, almost like it pained him to think about her. 

"And who was the other one?" 

Ivar's lips curved on a smile. 

"The mother of my child" he muttered "She was a princess, like you, but she was mysterious while you are not" he chuckled. Edlynn glared at him, but ignored his comment once again. 

"I'm not a princess, though" 

"Because you don't want to" he shrugged "You could be a princess, even a queen, if you wanted to, you are pretty enough to conquer a king" 

"Me?" Edlynn giggled, blushing softly "No, I don't think so" 

"You would be a good queen" he insisted "You're strong and smart, you respect people" Ivar nodded.

"I still need to find a king" she shrugged "Still pretty impossible" 

"Lord Edmund could be your king" Ivar pronounced her betrothed's name mockingly, as always. 

"No" Edlynn shook her head "He's handsome, brave and good, but he couldn't be my king, nor my prince, I'd have to find another" 

The intensity of Ivar's gaze burned her skin. Edlynn looked away, and moved to lay down and rest her head on the pillows, sticking to her side of the bed as she always did. 

"I never knew my mother" she muttered, changing the topic before the tension on the tent escalated too much "She died not long after I was born... She was from Ireland, from a place called Dubh Linn, have you heard about it?" 

Ivar nodded slowly. His people had raided that place more than once.

"So she wasn't a saxon?" 

Edlynn shook her head. 

"Her father brought her here when his lands were taken from him, trying to procure a good future for her and marry her to a lord, my father asked for her hand... At least, that's what they always told me" she shrugged "Father always said I have her hair, and that I look like her... I think that's why he didn't want to raise me when she died, I think it was painful for him... But I can't complain, Hilda is great" Edlynn groaned and rubbed her eyes when she realized she was talking a lot "Please, forgive me, I talk too much" 

"No, it's fine" Ivar shook his head with a soft voice, he had turned to look at her, and he felt like he was looking at a goddess. Maybe it was the mead, maybe the exhaustion, but he couldn't help but move a bit closer to her. 

"My mother died too" he added "She was killed" he clenched his fists in rage "She always cared for me, she always protected me, even when my father wasn't there" he had a small, sad smile on his lips as he remembered the, sometimes suffocating, love his mother had showed him "And I miss her everyday" 

Edlynn nodded. Even if she didn't remember her mother, she also missed her. And in some way she wished she could have had such a relationship with her, maybe she would have been able to explain to her what was that thing she felt, laying down on a northmen's bed and looking at him closely. 

"You and I aren't so different, then" she pointed out, smiling softly. Was it her or they were closer now?

"I suppose we are not" the thought seemed to amuse him "Even if we worship different Gods and speak different languages" 

When Ivar turned his head again, Edlynn was so close he could feel her quick breathing on his lips. It was nearly as intoxicating as the mead he had drank. 

Ivar's hand reached to caress her hair, making Edlynn shudder and gasp, almost like she realized what she was doing. 

"Is it not... Inappropriate to be so close to a heathen, princess?" he teased a bit, enjoying the way her cheeks turned red once again. 

"At this point..." she sighed, barely able to think about anything that wasn't Ivar "I don't really care" 

That made him laugh and his grip on her hair tightened. Edlynn wasn't lying, she couldn't think about God or anything that weren't his blue eyes and his lips parted. Without even thinking about it, she leant in while closing her eyes, and didn't stop until she felt his warm lips against hers. 

Edlynn had never kissed anyone, unlike Mildrith and some of the girls at the court, that were stolen a kiss or two in the stables or in a hidden corner of the castle. She never looked at the boys, too occupied with her books, her prayers and other important things. But she could understand now what the priests meant when they talked about temptation. Ivar's lips were addictive, better than anything she had ever tasted, and ignited something inside her that she couldn't recognize. 

The kiss was slow, passionate but also shy. They stopped kissing for a moment, but she had barely opened her eyes when Ivar's hand cupped her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek softly before he leant in again. And Edlynn had to put her hand on his warm chest to balance herself, moving her lips against his and leaning more and more into him, feeling like she would die if she wasn’t as close to him as possible. 

When they finally broke the kiss, none of them opened their eyes. Ivar was panting, one hand secured against her neck, to keep her lips close to his, and the other one had landed on her waist when she had leant into him almost straddling his waist, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost scary. Her forehead leant into his and Ivar sighed. It had been a long time since he had felt that warmth inside him. 

________________________________________

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[caffeinatedseri]

Murakami and Ranpo

Some minor spoilers ahead for the third BSD LN, The Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency." If you aren't concerned with spoilers, I did my best with summarizing the plot for anyone who hasn't read the novel.

In the third BSD LN, Fukuzawa and Ranpo are tasked with finding the culprit of an ominous death threat at a theatrical play. The threat is written as follows:

“An angel shall bring death, in the truest sense of the word, to the performer. —V.”

This threat fits perfectly with the play, which is a mystery play where each character gets killed by an "angel" who murders. However, the characters don't know if they're being killed by an angel or a regular person, because there's nothing supernatural about their causes of death (getting stabbed by a knife, poison, strangulation, etc.).

Each character was a former angel who had been banished from the celestial world, because they admired humans so much that God turned them into humans. Therefore, the characters in the play believed that an angel was sent after them to punish them for their sins.

This sets up two mysteries for us to follow:

1. The mystery of the real death threat, sent by "V" — who is the culprit behind it, who will they kill, and why?

2. The mystery within the play — is it an angel or real person killing each character, and why?

Paradoxes (and Things That Don't Make Sense)

The play is called, "The Living World is a Dream, the Nocturnal Dream is Reality," which is a quote from the real Edogawa Ranpo's work, but I couldn't find the exact source. The title proposes a paradox: reality is a dream, and dreams are reality.

Several other paradoxes present themselves in the story, but they appear most prominently in Ranpo's big speech where he solves the mystery of the play, and the murder simultaneously:

“The murder and the play’s story are connected on a deep level. This play reversed the tide of the narrative. A group of fallen angels tried to return to the heavens, but the angel of judgment tried to stop them. Meanwhile, the angel’s judgment was but a show, and the supposed victim, a human, faked it. The angel’s and humans’ roles were reversed, switching the judge and the judged. That’s the kind of play this was. "

"...the narrative is in reverse. Our structures have been swapped along with the victim and killer as well. In other words—he isn’t the killer, but a victim."

This reveal subverts the original expectation that the plot would follow two separate mysteries. Instead, the lines are blurred between reality and fiction, killer and killed, and dreams and reality because now the two mysteries are intertwined.

I think this part of the story is deliberately written to be confusing (or at least not very clearly explained) as to fit in with the themes found in Murakami's writing.

Who is Murakami?

Haruki Murakami is a famous Japanese author, and you may have read some of his famous works, "Norwegian Wood" and "Kafka on the Shore."

Since this is Bungou (Literary) Stray Dogs, Murakami makes an appearance in this light novel as the main actor of the play.

Before I go on to explain Murakami's role in the novel, I'll give a brief background on his real counterpart and explain how the theatrical play in the novel reflects the real Murakami's work.

Murakami writes in the genre of "magical realism", where the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred as magical elements are seamlessly incorporated into the story. I'll be using "Kafka on the Shore" as the main example for this point, since it's a great example of Murakami's expertise in magical realism.

In "Kafka on the Shore," there are 2 interrelated plot lines, alternating with each chapter, similar to the 2 supposed mysteries outlined at the beginning of the novel.

Like its moniker, "Kafka on the Shore" resembles a "Kafkaesque" style of writing due to its surreal elements that are bizarre and illogical in the rules of reality.

In an interview about this novel, Murakami said:

"Kafka on the Shore contains several riddles, but there aren't any solutions provided. Instead, several of these riddles combine, and through their interaction the possibility of a solution takes shape. And the form this solution takes will be different for each reader. To put it another way, the riddles function as part of the solution. It's hard to explain, but that's the kind of novel I set out to write."

The Outcome of the Play

In theme with Murakami's bizarre, magical-realism writings, several illogical events take place within the span of the LN:

1. Before the play even starts, Murakami (the character) and the rest of the cast completely disregard the death threat. Even though the logical and safe solution would be to reschedule the play, it is a very literal representation of "the play must go on" mindset.

2. Murakami gets stabbed mid-sentence, on stage by a white blade that magically disappears.

3. Murakami bleeds real blood and has no pulse, which would signify his death, but he doesn't actually die.

Despite all this, Ranpo is extremely good at observing various elements of a situation and putting them together to form a solution, much like how the interactions of "Kafka on the Shore"'s riddles form their own solution.

Ranpo appears on stage and makes an Oscar-worthy performance out of his announcement that reveals Murakami to be the culprit behind his own death. It doesn't make much logical sense that Murakami would fake his own death for a performance, but rather it's an action motivated by pure passion.

“I…,” muttered Murakami in almost a whisper. He raised his voice and continued, “I am an actor! I become someone I am not and live a life that doesn’t exist! My job is to expose what it means to be human! It doesn’t matter if I play the lead part or a minor part. It doesn’t matter if I am a villain or hero. I become them with every part of my body! There is no other job for me! This is the only way I can live!”

And here, Murakami reveals the final paradox of the play:

"But there is one thing that cannot be avoided while acting on the stage of life, and that is death! Death is not the opposite of life; it is life’s symbol and banner. However, it also provides a great paradox! Nobody alive has ever experienced it! That’s why to me, the greatest job of all would be performing the death of a person. Not death as a device or a mere convention, but real death that I could convey to the audience. That was the pinnacle of theatrical performance to me. And this is the outcome of my toil."

Murakami eventually gets arrested for the fake death threat and deceiving the police, among other things. The most notable moment after this comes in Ranpo's dialogue to Murakami:

“I thought you were amazing,” Ranpo suddenly said from behind as Murakami was being taken away. “I didn’t quite understand all of it myself, but I don’t think it’s something that just anyone could do. By the way, take a look at the audience. Look at their faces.”

1. Ranpo sees Murakami's act as something admirable, most likely because Ranpo appreciates a good mystery and had fun solving it.

2. Ranpo tells Murakami to look at the audience, to which he turns around and sees the faces of a broken audience who came to watch a play and instead witnessed a real not-so-real murder.

“You said your job was entertainment, right? But could you really call it that…when you look at their expressions?” For the first time, Murakami’s eyes showed a sign of weakness. “…I see.” A small voice, unlike what one would expect from a stage actor with a powerful voice, fell from the stage. “I was…only performing for myself.”

Murakami realizes that he traumatized his entire audience on his quest to reach the "pinnacle of theatrical performance." In his small world that consisted of just the stage, he failed to see the outside world and forgot to consider how his actions would impact others. It's also important to mention that it was Ranpo specifically who pointed it out to him.

The focus on the audience mirrors Fukuzawa's thoughts when Ranpo was giving his big speech before Murakami appeared on the stage:

Fukuzawa was at his wits’ end. From the playgoers’ point of view, the fact that people knew there was going to be a murder beforehand completely changed their view of the situation. Was it really okay to tell them that? But Ranpo showed no concern for the audience’s worries.

Ranpo, throughout the entire novel, is portrayed as this extraordinarily ordinary kid who means well but simply doesn't understand what others are thinking. He was taught that he wasn't special, but this only isolated him into his own tiny world, because the outside world was filled with things he didn't understand.

This leads to him upsetting a bunch of people by blatantly calling out things about them that shouldn't be called out, like the theater's owner Ms. Egawa, and even Fukuzawa at one point.

However, this moment when he calls out Murakami is pivotal because it shows how he's grown from this event. He's learned to be considerate of others. He's seen how he can upset other people with the things he says, and he's learned from that enough to show another person who's trapped in their own individual world.

Although Ranpo is depicted to be somewhat self-centered throughout this novel and even after it, Fukuzawa taught him that he isn't alone in this world. Because Fukuzawa showed compassion to Ranpo, a special fifteen-year-old kid who didn't know better in a world of monsters, Ranpo learned how to exist in a world where he was different from everyone else, and that was okay.

Thank you for reading! If you haven't read this LN yet, I would still highly recommend it because I didn't cover the entirety of the mystery, and it's a wonderful read to understand more about Ranpo and Fukuzawa's backstory.

[wizkiddx]

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent. 

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work. 

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word. 

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life. 

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable. 

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face. 

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even. 

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit. 

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single. 

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh. 

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to. 

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to  and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind. 

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms. 

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with. 

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag. 

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe. 

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both. 

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in. 

You were going to be sick. 

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out. 

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe. 

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs. 

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled. 

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening. 

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now. 

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh. 

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state.  “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist. 

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since?  You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up. 

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence. 

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his. 

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right. 

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was  you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle. 

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it.  Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest. 

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in. 

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it. 

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line. 

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you. 

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks. 

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence. 

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead. 

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too. 

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying. 

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over. 

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again. 

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally. 

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment. 

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders. 

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice. 

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips. 

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you. 

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 6)

Chapter summary: Your weekend at Aaron’s place continues, and he reflects on your relationship and what it all means. The team finds out.

Warnings: morning sex, thigh riding, little bit of dirty talk? allusions to office sex. pretty tame tbh. minors DNI

A/N: Posting these on tumblr is so much fun because I forgot that this is one of my favorite chapters in this whole story. This chapter is pretty long, but it has Hotch’s pov and team shenanigans, and pining!! Thank you all so much for your likes and reblogs and just all of the sweet things everybody has said so far about this story!!! As always, my ask box is always open if anybody wants to talk about this story or CM/hotch in general, or just wants somebody to talk to!!

masterlist || read on ao3

“You call the shots babe

I just wanna be yours

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours”

- Arctic Monkeys, “I Wanna Be Yours”

 ~~~~~~~

If there was one thing you liked more than sleeping with Aaron, you decided, it was waking up next to him. That was probably in part because it just didn’t happen very often. Most mornings were a frantic rush to get to work or school, and too often Aaron was up, showered, and dressed before you even got out of bed. It worked, though, and you didn’t have to worry about your respective morning routines being thrown off. 

  It was also the same reason the two of you kept clothes at each other’s places. One of the first times Aaron had spent the night at your apartment, he got called into the BAU early for a case and couldn’t go home to change, which meant he had spent an entire week in some tiny Montana town avoiding the questioning stares of everybody on his team, trying to figure out where he had spent the night.

  Or there was the time when you decided to tease Aaron a little too much and he ended up tearing the buttons off your blouse, meaning you had to find a way to style one of his oversized button ups to wear to court. Having a drawer at each other’s places wasn’t some big declaration of feelings or taking things to the next step, it was just being smart and proactive.

  And as a bonus, the efficiency of the morning routines plus already having clothes meant plenty of time for morning sex.

Aaron’s arm was draped lazily over your waist, not exactly pulling you in towards him, and keeping you at a distance. But it was comforting all the same knowing that, even in his sleep, he still wanted you. At the beginning of your fling, you had teased Aaron for being a cuddler, and he had just said it was because he liked knowing that you were safe and with him and that it grounded him. It didn’t take much longer for you to realize that Aaron Hotchner was a lot lonelier than he let on.

  You could feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck as you stretched languidly, every muscle in your body happily sore. It would be so easy to just fall back asleep and let the morning pass both of you by. You had all weekend, and you were sure that you and Aaron would need your rest whenever you could get it. You pulled the covers closer to your frame and curled up even more, savoring the warmth of the bed and letting out a content sigh.

  “If you keep stealing the covers,” came Aaron’s raspy mumble, “We’re going to have to start using two separate blankets.”

  A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you turned around so you could face Aaron. He must have been up for a while if he was already using full sentences, which meant that he had made the somewhat conscious decision to stay in bed with you. Those stupid butterflies from the night before came back in full force. His eyes were still closed, but he had a smug smirk gracing his face as he pulled you closer to him, your legs quickly tangling with his.

  Another good thing about waking up next to Aaron was that he looked downright sinful in the mornings, especially when he had just the faintest hint of stubble on his chin like he did then. The lines of his perpetually furrowed brows all but disappeared and his hair was much messier than usual, although you were more than likely the cause of that last night. You could see the faint scratches on his shoulders and bruises on his collarbone, also your doing. 

  You were sure you had just as many marks on your body, if not more. Aaron was patient and he knew how to read every little reaction you gave him in order to make you a whimpering mess. You probably would have been annoyed at how easily he could read you if it didn’t feel so good.

  You let out a soft “humph” as you buried your face into his bare chest, breathing him in. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on making your house an icebox…”

  Your words trailed off as Aaron slipped his hand that was on your back under your - his - shirt so that he could run his fingers up and down your spine. He propped his head up on his other hand, finally letting his eyes open to look at you. The sunlight filtering through the window brought out the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

  “Wanted to make sure you stayed in bed,” he admitted, his eyes shamelessly tracing you up and down and you could feel his growing morning wood pressed against you.

  You squeezed your thighs together as you traced small patterns over his bare chest with your fingertips. “By making it too cold for me to even grab a jacket?” you teased.

  Aaron just shrugged, still mindlessly rubbing the bare skin of your back. “It worked, didn’t it? Besides…” His hand moved to rest on your waist, his thumb teasing the underside of your breast. “I can think of a few ways to warm up.”

  You smirked and lifted your head to bring a kiss up to his neck, leaving a small bruise in its wake. “Oh?” you asked with a lifted eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind going for round two.”

  A giggle slipped past your lips as Aaron rolled over, pulling you on top of him so that you were straddling his hips. “By the end of this weekend, we’ll definitely get to round two,” he mumbled in between kisses. “Or round three..” Another kiss. “Maybe four…” Another kiss. “Five if we’re feeling especially ambitious.” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down swiftly.

  You smiled into the kisses and you let your fingers run through Aaron’s hair, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You could feel his erection pressing against you and you grinded down on him. Aaron rewarded you with one of his delicious moans. His hands slid up your sides and pulled off the shirt you were wearing in one fluid motion, his mouth immediately attaching to your nipple, his tongue moving in circles as his lips pulled and tugged until you cried out his name.

  His hands moved back down to grip your hips, slowly rocking your hips back and forth on him. “Aaron,” you breathed out, your senses completely overwhelmed. He was sitting up now and kissing his way up to your neck, determined to leave you with as many marks as possible.

  “Do you wanna cum like this?” he practically growled, his scruff brushing against your sensitive skin. “Grinding on my thigh, greedy and desperate? Was three orgasms not enough last night?”

  You gripped his shoulders, moving your hips faster now, dizzy with want. “Yes, fuck ,” you moaned, pressing down with as much force as you could muster, only the thin fabric of his pajamas pants keeping you from what you wanted. Nothing would be close enough to him, but you could certainly try. Aaron lifted his thigh and his grip on your hips got tighter, already forming bruises.

  Aaron watched you intently as you felt your orgasm build up, his lips parted ever so slightly. He loved to watch you fall apart, loved the power it gave him. And you loved to watch him watch you come apart, because the open-mouth smile he gave you made it look like he worshiped the ground you walked on. You were all too willing to give him a show.

  You threw your head back as you panted, desperate for your release. “Please, I’m so close,” you begged, speeding up your hips even more.

  He released one hand from your hips and dragged his nails up your body, leaving little pink lines in his wake, until his hand could rest comfortably on your throat. Aaron didn’t put any pressure, but you were wound so tightly that any touch would have set you off.

  “Cum for me ,” Aaron demanded, and your body immediately listened

  Your whole body shook as your orgasm slammed into you, but you managed to keep your eyes locked with his, giving him a primal smile, which only made his eyes darken even more with lust. Aaron took the hand on your throat and moved it up to cup your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. It was needy and desperate, maybe even a little clumsy as you lifted off his lap just enough to finally pull his pajama pants down. 

  You reached your hand down to pump him lazily a few times, your thumb swiping over the tip of his cock teasingly. Part of you wanted to tease Aaron, to see if you could make him whine and beg for you to fuck him. A larger, needier part of you just wanted to ride Aaron so that you could hear more praises from him.

  Aaron made that decision for you. “Do you think you’re going to ride me?” he asked condescendingly, as if to say you’re cute if you think you’re in charge.

  You continued to stroke Aaron’s erection, twisting your wrist in just the right way to get Aaron to moan for you. “I will if you ask nicely,” you mused, your voice even, but even as you said it, you were already slowly sinking down on his cock, moaning at the feeling of him stretching you. You were still a little sore from last night, but it quickly turned into pleasure. 

  Before you could fully take all of him into you, Aaron snapped his hips up, hitting you in all the right places. You gasped out, your pussy clenching involuntarily around him.

  That just made Aaron smirk and thrust up into you again. “I don’t need to ask to take what’s mine,” he hissed, but his voice was strained, like it was taking all of his energy to keep a steady tone. “And you, my dear, are mine.”

  Every word was just encouragement for you to ride him faster, wanting to hear him moan some more. “I’m yours,” you agreed, burying your face in his neck.

  He took one of your hands that was clinging onto his shoulder for dear life and guided it down to your clit. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, leaning back just enough so that he could get a good look at you. “I want to watch you.”

  You immediately started to circle your swollen clit, and the stimulation was almost too much. Almost. But the look on Aaron’s face as he watched you work yourself over, so full of lust and want, was more than enough encouragement for you.

  “Like this?” you asked innocently, and you could feel his dick throb inside you.

  Aaron let your name fall from his lips, coming out as a sigh. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned before capturing your lips in a kiss. 

  It didn’t take long for you to cum again, moaning his name into his lips as your walls fluttered around him. You didn’t dare stop kissing him, though, and you especially didn’t dare stop riding Aaron. You wanted to feel him deeper in you. Your legs were shaking and a thin sheen of sweat covered you, but you wanted him to come apart, lose control.

  When he came, he held you in place and pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to watch every little reaction you made. You whimpered as he filled you, his dick twitching inside of you. You were exhausted in the best way and your skin was warm to the touch. The two of you stayed like that for a few appreciative moments, heavy breathing being the only sound in the room.

  It really was easy to imagine that this was your life, to pretend that you would be able to wake up next to Aaron and have two orgasms before breakfast as much as you wanted. But reality came back all too harshly in the form of Aaron’s phone ringing. Both of you let out groans of annoyance as you pulled yourself off of him. Aaron technically had weekends off, but he was always on call, which meant no phone call could go unanswered.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his cell.

  You chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “So much for round two, hm?” you teased. “You answer that. I’m going to go shower.” You winced as you climbed out of bed, feeling the soreness spread across your body. You were going to get absolutely wrecked this weekend, and you honestly couldn’t wait. You looked back at Aaron as he answered the phone, and you were surprised to see him staring right at you, looking at you with a softness that nobody had ever looked at you with before. It terrified you.

  ~~~~~~~

  Sometimes, Aaron wondered what Y/N was getting out of this… whatever this was. Companionship, maybe, but he couldn’t imagine she had any problems in that area. She was young, pretty, and charming, and he had seen her turn down a handful of numbers that were thrown her way by men much more suitable for her.

  At the very beginning, he thought that maybe she was just trying to get an extra foot in the door of her career. He wondered if she was just overly ambitious and calculating, and used his lust for her to get exactly what she wanted. But that theory was tossed to the side almost as quickly as he thought about it when she had announced proudly that she was doing her project in her Torts class on a case that he had overseen at the beginning of his prosecuting career.

“The other cases were more interesting,” she had told him teasingly, “But it’s going to be so much fun to see your face when I rip your argument to shreds.”

  Yeah, she didn’t need him to succeed in her career. She was going to do just fine.

  So the only other reason he could think of was that she just genuinely enjoyed his company and wanted to be around him. That would certainly explain why she snuck around with him for almost an entire year, rendezvousing at unpredictable times and keeping their knowledge of each other a secret. It would also explain why she was so willing to let him back into her life as if nothing had changed. She was smart enough to know that Aaron was a changed man and that there would be a lot more baggage this time around, but none of that seemed to bother her.

  Although he couldn’t quite figure out why she stuck around, he couldn’t deny that it made him happy. He liked having somebody around who genuinely wanted to spend time with him, instead of just being around because they worked together, like an obligation. Aaron liked to think that he had gotten pretty good at predicting the things she might ask for, and he was more than happy to keep giving them to her if it meant she would stick around for a while longer.

  After the phone call that was entirely too long and completely unnecessary, Aaron grabbed some clothes and went to rinse off in the shower quickly. He heard Y/N get out of the shower and start to raid his kitchen minutes before, which he had already planned for. On a whim during his bi-weekly grocery store run, he grabbed a few things for when she inevitably stayed over - caramel syrup for coffee, an extra toothbrush, a pack of hair ties to keep in his bathroom, and a bag of her favorite salt-and-vinegar chips.

  Once he got dressed and ready for the day, he walked out into the kitchen, where she was talking on her phone, leaning on the counter and laughing, a cup of iced coffee right next to her. “Yeah, no,” he heard her say. “I think it’s going really well and- I know. I learned my lesson about the melatonin thing.”

  At the sound of his footsteps, she turned her head and smiled at Aaron, noticing his presence. She kept her eyes locked with his as she continued her phone conversation. “Hey, I have to go, but I’ll-” she paused, obviously cut off by the person on the other side of the line. A blush spread across her cheeks and she laughed again. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up. I will talk to you later. Goodbye, my love.”

  Aaron watched the interaction with curiosity. Every once in awhile, he would catch glimpses of the college student version of her that he rarely saw. She always held herself with such an air of confidence and intelligence around him, and she was so quick-witted that it was easy to forget that she was still just a law student, still finding her way in the world. She seemed to carefully plan the version of herself that she would be in front of Aaron, and even more carefully hid the versions of herself that she didn’t want to be.

  It had intrigued him when she was helping with the case, hearing her in a professional setting. He knew she was smart and good at what she did, but seeing it in practice was an entirely different thing.

  However, the case also brought another facet of who Y/N was. Hearing her conversations with her friends, listening to her gossip and being more carefree, was different. There was a girlish quality to her that he had never really seen, and it confused him. He wanted to fuck her until she was screaming out his name, crying and begging for him. He wanted to see her smile up at him while she was on her knees. Hell, he even wanted to just lay on the couch and listen to her talk about her classes, let her tell him all about the weird guy who wears a full three-piece suit to class, and share take out with her.

  But now, he also wanted to protect her, but he wasn’t quite sure from what. The reality of the profession she was going into? The many corporate men who were bound to just see her as a pretty thing? The world? Himself, maybe?

  She slipped the phone into her back pocket, blissfully unaware of the thoughts swirling in Aaron’s brains. “Sorry, that was Aly, my friend,” she explained before he even had a chance to ask.

  Aaron gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Aly... That’s the one you lived with in high school after your mom-”

  “Yeah,” she cut him off firmly, signifying the end of that conversation. “That’s her. Do you have to go to work?”

  Aaron could have sworn he heard the slightest bit of disappointment in her question, and it tugged at his heart, because he had heard that exact question with that exact hidden disappointment too many times.

  It was unfair to compare her to Haley, and he knew that. She didn’t want to be his “New Haley” something she had made very clear two years ago. Neither of them expected this to lead to wedding bells, a white picket fence, and a dog, and they weren’t going to make major sacrifices to be with each other, especially in regards to their respective careers. The disappointment was more than likely him projecting.

  That didn’t stop the twinge of guilt that threatened to consume him.

  “No, I don’t,” he finally said. “Metro PD had a question about some of the files that were sent over about the case, which could and should have been handled by the agents actually working today instead of going straight to me.” Aaron had a hard time hiding the growing annoyance in his words. It wasn’t the officers’ fault they got shit training.

  She shot an amused smirk Aaron’s way, bringing her coffee up to her lips. “Aw, that’s cute,” she teased. “Maybe they just wanted answers from the big boss man?”

  Aaron scoffed as he made his way towards his Keurig, which was already loaded with his brew of choice and a mug readily placed, no doubt Y/N’s doing. All he needed to do was press a button. She was pretty good at anticipating his wants, too, and even better at knowing what he needed before he even knew.

  “Yeah, well, arresting a group of prolific lawyers isn’t going to be anything short of a pain in the ass.”

  Once his coffee was poured, he turned back to face Y/N, whose eyes were now unfocused and deep in thought. “Right, yeah,” she murmured, more to herself than to Aaron. “They’re all going to jail…”

  Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched her mouth to herself. She did that when she was trying to work out a problem, like she was presenting the arguments and counter-arguments to herself. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped back up to Aaron, as if she just remembered he was there. “I just- You can’t have a law firm without the partners and I just realized that I don’t have an internship anymore, which I’m going to have to try and explain to my professors because I need those credits to graduate. And I don’t have a job offer either, which means I am back at the bottom.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said, unable to think of anything better to say. Truth be told, he hadn’t considered the collateral damage to the rest of the employees who had no clue what was going on behind closed doors.

  She shrugged, but her eyes were still distant. “Oh, it’s fine. I didn’t even want to work in the private sector long term. Prosecutors all work for the government, anyway. The private sector only has the specialized training programs, flexible hours, ability to choose your own clients, and the crazy high salaries…” She trailed off almost dreamily before taking an audible breath.

  “Well…” Aaron started, choosing every word carefully. He knew that he was walking a tightrope and that his next offer could very easily come back and bite him in the ass, but it wasn’t the first time Aaron had bent the rules, and it wasn’t going to be his last. “I can’t do much in the way of a job offer, but the FBI does hire interns for our in house legal team. It’s not exactly prosecuting, but it would be closer to your career goals. You would still need to apply, but I know the head of the division and I’m sure we could expedite your application.”

  Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her coffee cup so tight that Aaron was sure it was going to shatter. “I don’t need to sleep my way to an internship,” she said sharply.

  Aaron nodded in agreement. “I know that, and you’re not,” he promised. “This is an offer from the BAU Unit chief as an official thank you from the FBI for your help in the investigation.” Noticing her hesitation, he decided to continue. “My reputation is on the line, too. I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t think you deserved it. You’re top of your class and the head of law review. I can show them the audio files of the work you’ve done this past week at the other internship. It’s still merit based, and you would still have to beat out other candidates, but I would ensure your application gets looked at immediately. Can you get me a copy of your transcript and resume?”

  The tension from her shoulders released slightly, but she was still staring at Aaron cautiously, weighing her options. “Yes,” she whispered finally, before repeating it louder and with more confidence. “I can email them to you right now. Thank you, Aaron. Really.”

  Aaron smiled down at her. “It’s no problem. The FBI would be lucky to have you. And Y/N…” he added, making a lighthearted attempt at breaking through the tension. “I have a direct line to the director. If you wanted to sleep your way to the top, I would hope you would be more ambitious to shoot for something a little more prestigious than a temporary internship.”

  Y/N laughed, her entire demeanor switching back to the more playful version of herself. “So does this mean I don’t get to give you a thank you?” she asked, bringing her bottom lip in between her teeth.

  Aaron raised his eyebrows and smirked, using one of his fingers to lift her chin up to him. “What did you have in mind?”

  She raised herself on her toes just high enough to give him a quick peck on the lips before bouncing away from him. It would be cute if he didn’t see the smug grin that erupted across her face. “I make the best breakfast burritos you’ll ever have,” she told him matter-of-factly, throwing a cheeky smile his way.

  Aaron chuckled, ignoring the way his chest tightened. “Do you make a habit of making breakfast for all the people who offer you jobs?”

  She clicked her tongue as she rifled through his fridge, pulling out all the ingredients she would need. “Only the ones I really like,” she mused. “And I figure we’re both going to need the nutrition if we’re going to get to those five rounds this weekend that you promised.”

  Aaron’s chest tightened even more, and for the first time since he met Y/N, he wondered if he was in way over his head.

  ~~~~~~~

  It had become almost a tradition of sorts in the BAU, guessing why Hotch had his office door closed. It started as nervous chatter - Was somebody after them? Was Strauss making another plan to rip apart the team? - but the team realized that the more ridiculous the guess, the easier it was to wait for an actual answer. So the BAU team, minus Rossi and Hotch, all sat around their desks, only half paying attention to their work as they talked amongst themselves. 

  This morning, the prevailing theory was that, since Hotch got into work early, he decided to fall back asleep. His office was completely closed off to the rest of the bullpen, even going as far as shutting the blinds. They couldn’t blame him - he probably wasn’t getting much sleep at home being a single dad, and they knew that the brass gave him way more paperwork than one man should ever have to handle. Him taking a quick power nap in his offer was, in their eyes, completely deserved.

  Which is why they were surprised when a familiar figure emerged from his office, shaking his hand quickly before making her way towards the glass doors, combing her fingers through her hair.

  “Why was Y/N Y/L/N talking to Hotch?” Reid asked, sitting up slightly in his chair.

  Garcia, who was sitting on the edge of Morgan’s desk, had a confused look on her face. “Who?” she asked, pouting only slightly. She didn’t like to be out of the loop.

  Emily repeated the name back to her. “She’s the one who helped us on that hitman case, but I thought we closed that two weeks ago?”

  Garcia’s confusion only increased. “If she’s talking to Hotch, does that mean it’s not closed? Why wouldn’t he tell all of us?”

  Morgan shrugged, watching Y/N as she made her way across the bullpen. “I guess we’ll find out now, won’t we?” Morgan waved her over, and if she was surprised by it, she hid it well.

  “Hey, Y/N,” JJ greeted, and the younger woman waved at the group. “It’s good to see you again. Is everything okay? You were in there for a while.”

  Y/N nodded enthusiastically, a small blush rising onto her cheeks. “Yeah, everything’s great! That internship was required for me to be able to graduate this year, and since I helped with the investigation, the FBI was kind enough to offer me an intern position here. Unfortunately, the legal team director got swept up in meetings this morning, so Agent Hotchner went over the intake paperwork with me,” she explained, almost too casually. The words rolled off her tongue like they had been rehearsed.

  “Well then, congrats and welcome to the FBI,” Emily said. “If you ever need anything, you know where to find us.”

  “I am always looking for a lunch buddy,” Garcia interjected, “Especially when the rest of them are off on a case. Oh, and you should come out to drinks with us one night!”

  Y/N chuckled and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Thank you, that sounds like fun. Oh, Dr. Reid, maybe I can take you up on that offer of a tour?” Spencer nodded, a little shocked that she had remembered that conversation. “Well, I should head down to the 3rd floor. Don’t want to be late on my first day. I’ll see you all around though.”

  The team watched Y/N walk out the glass doors to the elevator, and as soon as she was out of earshot, the girls erupted in a fit of giggles.

  Morgan and Reid shared a look of confusion. “Okay, Babygirl,” Morgan groaned. “What was that about? Inviting her out with us? You just met her.”

  That only served to make Garcia laugh harder. “Some profiler you are,” she teased, before turning her attention back to Emily and JJ. “Okay, don’t worry, I will not do any sort of unethical digging, just normal social media snooping. I promise.” With that, Garcia made her way quickly back to her Bat Cave, an extra pep in her step.

  Morgan shot the remaining two girls a questioning look. “Why is she snooping on some random intern?” he pressed.

  Emily chuckled in disbelief. “Seriously? You couldn’t see it?”

  “See what?” Morgan asked, frustration evident in his voice.

  JJ looked back up at Hotch’s office, a knowing smile on her face. “Because that random intern, who, remember, spent an entire interrogation flirting with Hotch, just left his office with smudged lipstick and a missing button on her shirt.”

  Recognition flashed in Morgan’s eyes as he chuckled to himself, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Huh. Who knew Hotch still had it in him? My man, good for him.”

  Reid looked at the rest of the profilers, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Wait, what happened?” he asked, still unable to put the pieces together. “Did I miss something?”

  Morgan smirked and ruffled Reid’s hair. “We’ll explain it later, Pretty Boy. I promise.”

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 3.2k words ➷Humor, slight angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, shenanigans ofc, i missed oikawa ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ✈Part 7

Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut. 

“...How was it?”

You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm. 

“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”

Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work. 

“Ahh, and nothing happened.”

You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face. 

“Uh, Hajime?”

His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?

“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”

It seems he would, realization sets in as Hajime closes in on you, and you panic,

“I think it didn’t work because it was someone bullshitting!”

“Don’t you want to swap back? Just drink it!”

“You’re just mad, get away from me!”

You trip on your feet, stumbling into the kitchen table. It scrapes the tile as your hands clutch for purchase on anything that’ll help you get you away from the madman behind you, but the tablecloth you’ve grasped at isn’t much help seeing as you swipe it off the table entirely. You’d be impressed that all the plates and the flower-filled vase stayed perfectly set on the table from your impromptu magic trick, if it weren’t for Hajime assaulting you.

You cry out as if you’re being brutally attacked (you are, technically–just with plant juice), and Hajime takes you by the jaw and tilts a cup of the swirling cocktail to your lips, sloshing rather unappetizingly in the glass. If the thing had an aura, it’d have a thick gray cloud fuming from it. 

“And why would I be mad?”

“Because I made you drink a potion I found on a weird thread even though it was totally suspicious and completely untrustworthy!”

You confess to your sins, the thread was actually some sort of troll that promised the reader would swap bodies with their favorite celebrity, and you cast it aside for the likelihood of that never happening, it was probably a scam to get some gullible teens to drink essentially dirt.

And you admit that initially you thought it would be funny to prank Hajime, jotting down the recipe and conveniently leaving out the celebrity bit, but in your excitement to scheme you forgot Hajime doesn’t take too well to pranks at his expense. 

Not without retribution at least, and you find yourself grappling at his wrists, attempting to turn your head away from the glass.

He eyes you with a too eager grin,

“You should try it, really, it might work.”

It didn’t. 

It was disgusting. 

You have learned your lesson not to trifle with Hajime, and you're no closer to finding a solution to your problem. 

You slump onto the kitchen table, feeling especially abused and violated by the plant paste you regretfully crafted. 

“That’s number one on the list, what’s next?”

Hajime rests his elbow on the table, chin in palm as he scrolls on his phone. 

“Bonk our heads together so hard we pass out and hopefully wake up in our own bodies?”

You suggest. Who knows, it could actually work.

“No thanks, I’d rather not wake up the same way but with a concussion.”

The second Hajime turns down your cartoonish suggestion, his phone lights up and buzzes, signifying a call.

You glance at his phone, “Tooru’s calling you?”

“Fuck. I’ll just ignore it,”

The moment he sets his phone aside, the kitchen door bursts open, presenting none other than Oikawa Tooru, entirely expected given the situation and the fact that Hajime’s parents are still at work. 

“Tooru?!”

You blink in surprise, and Tooru frowns at the sight of the two of you together. 

“I knew you were ignoring me!”

“What the fuck Shittykawa, who said you could come over?”

Hajime grimaces, forgetting to stay true to your personality in his surprise. Tooru’s brow ticks at the catty response to his entrance. 

“I see you’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan, using his terrible nicknames! I didn’t think you’d ever use it on me either, but here we are!”

He folds his arms across his chest, and Hajime covers his mouth.

Shit, he let that one slip in his initial shock. 

“Besides, this is Iwa-chan’s house, and I say I can come over! You two have been ignoring me all week and coming up with the shittiest excuses—”

“Oikawa—”

“No, let me finish!”

He huffs, looking more serious than you’ve seen him outside the court. Judging by his posture and the worry in his brows, you can tell he’s been stressing himself lately. You bite your cheek, knowing full well you and Hajime were the root of the cause.

“Both of you have to go to the dentist when the office is closed, really? Iwa-chan studying for a test that’s not for another week, please! Give me a break. Not to mention, every practice you play like shit Iwa-chan,”

It’s not shit, you’re just not Hajime’s usual, because you’re not fucking Hajime. You want to argue, defend yourself and Hajime, but you keep your lips sealed. 

“You act like a total weirdo, you hardly talk to your own teammates and friends, and you–”

He turns to Hajime, technically you, scowl ever present. 

“You always run off with him after school! And don’t even pretend like you’re not having lunch with him too, Kunimi-chan saw you eating alone together by the art building–ditching me, yeah?”

He’s fuming, and his hair is moving in every direction accompanying his wild, frantic gestures. 

The guilt starts piling, and you’re starting to regret yours and Hajime’s way of handling the situation. 

To avoid uncomfortable situations and messing up, you thought the best method was to steer clear from everyone entirely. 

Clearly that’s backfiring, but it’s too late to erase those actions now. 

“Not only have you two spent all week lying to me, you’ve been completely ignoring my calls and texts all weekend too!”

Tooru pauses, rant seemingly over, but neither you or Hajime feel inclined to speak yet, too caught off guard by the outburst, and unsure of what you can say to remedy the situation. 

Tooru drops his arms at his sides, glancing away from the two of you, biting his lip. Your shoulders tense when you feel the atmosphere around him drop significantly.

“Are you guys mad at me?”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

You forgot he had feelings. 

“Oikawa, it’s not that, I swear.”

You speak first, and Tooru looks to you with an expression that almost breaks your heart right there. Brown eyes glossy, lips in a thin line as if he’s trying to keep them from turning down into a frown, he looks genuinely displeased.

“Are you just sick of me? Are you tired of hanging out with me? I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but if it makes you guys that upset I can stop, I’ll be better.” 

In any other context you may quip with a ‘you could stop this whole time?’, but the joke wouldn’t sit right, and Tooru looks entirely too on edge, fingers tapping at his sides restlessly. 

Tooru’s always been the type to stay true to himself, unabashedly and unapologetically. He knows he’s flawed, has learned to accept his shortcomings as a person. But here he is before you and Hajime, willing to cast aside his pride for the sake of your friendship. It only serves to guilt you more, considering it’s based upon the lies you’ve built up.

“I promise we’re not sick of you, we just… had something come up that we had to deal with. It’s been really stressful, I’m sorry.”

You don’t particularly care if it’s too out of character, it’s what Tooru needs to hear. 

Risking a glance at Hajime, you see he’s shaking his leg and biting his lip, a few of his nervous tics, he’s contemplating something heavily. 

“And you can’t tell me? You always tell me when something is wrong.”

Tooru eyes you suspiciously, and it’s true, usually you can tell Tooru anything. But this isn’t something believable, and you and Hajime both decided it’s best kept a secret. 

“We can’t, but it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry about it, we’ll start hanging out soon, like we used to, we just have to deal with this ourselves.”

And you hope you’ll be able to, it’d be nice to go back to normal. You did miss movie nights with Tooru and Hajime, and you miss having lunch together on the rooftop. 

Tooru thinks for a moment, you see the gears turning in his head, eyes focused. He glances to Hajime, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, still tense on the other side of the table. 

Tooru’s contemplative gaze flicks to you, as if he’s had some sort of revelation. 

“Did you get her pregnant?”

WHA—THAT’S HIS REVELATION?

“You asshole, shut up!”

Hajime’s choice first words. 

“What?! No, no, fuck no!”

You blush heavily at his wild accusation, and Tooru looks visibly relieved. 

“Oh, thank god. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, necessarily, and I always kind of expected it, but this is just too soon.”

He laughs airily, as if he doesn’t feel the weight of his words like you do, heavy on your heart. Does everyone have that assumption? That you and Hajime would one day be together like that?

“We’re not even dating, idiot.”

Ouch. Hajime’s adamant refusal jabs at you, and you try to ignore the ache that claws at your chest. That may have stung a bit, but you certainly won’t admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be ignoring me like that.”

“It’s ‘cause we swapped bodies.”

You whip your head to Hajime, physically ripped from your disappointment, too shocked he’d blab the truth to Tooru and expect a reasonable outcome from it.

“Hah. Hah.”

Tooru doesn’t even entertain the explanation, arms crossed and eyes disinterested, accompanying the dry laugh well.

“It’s true.”

You hope Hajime knows what he’s doing. 

“Funny, and I didn’t think you’d be in on it Iwa-chan, looking so surprised like that.”

Tooru doesn’t even look skeptical, or remotely fazed, as if he doesn’t want to be tricked into falling for something so blatantly stupid. 

And normally, he’d be right to, but in this case, you and Hajime were unfortunately not kidding. 

“I just didn’t think Hajime would openly admit that without talking to me first.”

You shoot a glance at Hajime, as if to convey ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’, but he merely shrugs in response. 

“And you’re a real prankster today too. What’s gotten into you guys? Seriously, are you mad at me?”

Tooru is starting to look a little peeved, visibly doubting your words of encouragement from earlier. 

“We’re not mad. We switched places. We woke up last Sunday in each other’s bodies. That’s why we haven’t been ourselves, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Hajime continues with his explanation, as if Tooru would be any closer to believing it.

Which he isn’t. 

“That’s not even possible, but fine, I’ll play along. You’re Iwa-chan, supposedly. What’s something that only he would know?”

Tooru crosses his arms smugly, staring at your body, who is ‘supposedly’ Hajime, as if he’s got you two in checkmate. 

This can’t be good for Tooru, but it’s definitely going to be good for you if you’re getting in on a secret. 

“Alright. You swore me to secrecy for this one,” Hajime doesn’t hesitate for one second, “that time at the volleyball banquet last year you saw a girl with a ‘nice ass’ in a ‘super mega tight dress’ and wanted to hit on her, but when you tapped her shoulder, she turned around and it was actually Y/N–”

Now this is very interesting news to you. 

“H-HEY, STOP TALKING–”  

Hajime side steps Tooru’s attempt to cover his mouth,

“And you pre-gamed before the event so you drunkenly admitted to me that you’d still tap that but she’s practically your sister and that’s gross but her ass looked so–”

“I get it okay! How do I know you’re not just fucking with me and broke the secret pact we made?!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off and glares at you, but you’re giving him the widest, shit-eating grin. 

“I knew that dress looked good.”

“Enough games already!”

“What about the time in elementary school where you and I went to a volleyball match and you had to–”

“ENOUGH, enough, I believe you, okay!”

Tooru relents, red-faced and practically sweating from his nervous panic. 

“I wanna know about the time in elementary school where you and Hajime went to a volleyball match and something happened.”

You put your hand up, wanting to know the juicy details. You thought you and Tooru told each other everything, but apparently there’s some missing gaps in that ‘everything’, and you’re very eager to learn. 

“We made a friendship promise and he swore me not to tell anyone but because of the circumstances, he had to—” 

“I said I believed you already, stop trying to out me!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off at the best part, every time. 

He taps his foot with a huff, bottom lip twitching into a frown. Hajime gives him a smug look, staring back combatively, as if Tooru will attempt to call out bullshit again (he won’t). 

You’ll have to remember to ask Hajime about the middle school incident at a later date, but right now, 

“I’m sorry we kept this from you, and sorry I kept ignoring your calls, Tooru. We didn’t know what to do.”

You interrupt their staring contest, wrapping your arms around Tooru in a tight hug. You’re the tallest you’ve ever been, and it’s weird to hug him when you aren’t yourself, but you missed your best friend. 

“Uh…”

Tooru awkwardly pats your back,

“I was kind of lying before because I thought you guys were trying to shame and humiliate me, but this is really weird and I actually might believe you now.”

“Asshole, that’s all it took?! And stop hugging him like that, it's freaking me out!”

Hajime slaps Tooru on the back, yanking you by the back of your shirt to pull you from the hug. 

He grumbles something indecipherable under his breath, contemplating whether he should even say anything, 

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

He gives Tooru an awkward, much gentler slap on the back, before slinging his arm around Tooru in some sort of half-hug gesture.

“I-Iwa-chan! It really is you in there!”

Oikawa’s fake tears spring to life as he bends down to wrap Hajime in a hug, who struggles like a cat wanting to be released. 

“Get off me!”

Tooru pulls back, wiping a tear from his long lashes, 

“I’m still really upset right now, I really thought you guys hated me! So if you could please shower me with adoration, that’d be lovely.”

Tooru spreads out his arms, a pathetic expression on his face that Hajime doesn’t buy for one second. 

“Tooru! I love you! You’re the best Tooru, your jump serves are great! Your setting is unmatched! You’re my bestest friend!”

You cheer him on, Hajime is balking that you’d even entertain the idea of doing that in his body, let alone acting on it, but Tooru eats it up with gleaming eyes. 

“Quit feeding his ego!”

It’s your turn to be scolded by Hajime, but you just stick your tongue out at him sheepishly. 

“He deserves it?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! He didn’t do anything, and we were being bad friends.”

“I’m on your side,”

Tooru slings an arm around your shoulder and gazes down at Hajime, who’s more aggravated now than when he was drinking straight plant paste. 

It hadn’t bothered him too much initially, but having to crane his neck up to glare at Tooru is sparking some caveman urge deep inside Hajime to absolutely throttle him.

“Out. Get out of my house.”

“Technically, this isn’t your house–OW, Iwa-chan, that still hurts!”

“Newsflash Asshole-kawa, girls can hit too!”

They can, and you let Hajime prove his point. 

“So,”

“If it’s something about aliens, I don’t want to hear it.”

You interrupt Tooru before he can spew something definitely about aliens.

“I wasn’t going to bring up aliens–though it’s a very valid cause you definitely need to consider. I was actually going to ask if you have any idea how long you’re gonna be like this?”

You give Tooru a tired look, and Hajime just ignores him entirely, tired of glaring no doubt. 

Tooru’s been lazing around, attempting to ‘help’ you and Hajime, but you doubt he’s accomplished anything aside from scrolling through the same threads you’ve looked through. You’re willing to bet he researched for a minute or two before losing interest, abandoning the task in favor of looking through Karasuno’s and Shiratorizawa’s match history.

“If we knew, we’d tell you.”

You respond, since it seems Hajime isn’t interested in replying.

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Tooru props his elbows up on the couch, pausing whatever volleyball match he was watching to drop his phone on his chest, “I saw this foreign family comedy once where the mom and her daughter swapped places, but they had to show each other selfless love and understand what the other goes through to swap back.” 

Tooru gasps in additional realization before turning to Hajime, “Iwa-chan, are you her mom?”

The look Hajime gives Tooru is enough to put him in a grave and send secondhand chills down your spine. 

“Sorry, sorry, don’t hit me again! Your hands are pointy and jabby now, it’s hard to get used to.”

Ignoring that, 

“Hajime and I already understand each other, we have to put up with you all day.”

“True,” Tooru is completely unbothered by that comment, “I did see a romcom where the two main characters had to kiss at the end, they ended up swapping places like that.”

You don’t like that he casually suggests this with such an innocent look on his features.

“That sounds stupid, watch better movies.”

Hajime grunts out, and you’ll admit that kissing Hajime would be nice, but under normal circumstances preferably. You don’t particularly want to kiss yourself as Hajime. 

“I appreciate all your knowledge in films that have body swaps in them Tooru, but this isn’t a romcom, or a movie.”

You sigh, and Tooru hums thoughtfully. 

“Sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He sits upright with ease, sliding off the couch and pocketing his phone, 

“Anyways, I’ve got more practice to do. I’ll try not to be too hard on you tomorrow, now that I know you’ve swapped with that brute over there. Ciao!”

Tooru ducks out of the living room and out the Iwaizumi household before Hajime can assault him, and good thing, he probably would’ve had some bruises from your ‘jabby’ and ‘pointy’ hands. 

With Tooru’s quick escape, you’re left contemplating whether that suggestion would actually work or not, risking glances to Hajime across the room.

A/N: not me ending a chapter on a juicy bit again afjknddm, anyways im posting this at an ungodly time but i hope everyone enjoys!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android @cuddlesslut @bumbledunce​

[mageofseven]

Hello! I can send in requests, right? Can I request headcanons of the sin boys with a very claustrophobic mc? Just general headcanons is fine, but you can add some romantic ones if you want. Thank you!

Of course girly! I wasn't really sure how to go about this in a creative manner for each brother, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

~

Lucifer:

Likely saw it on their paperwork before they came to Devildom, if they decided to mention it on there.

At no point did he think it would be an issue for them though while staying with him and his brothers, and for a while, it wasn't.

Till he heard them screaming from one of the hall closets at RAD.

The man was late for class because of some business with Lord Diavolo when he heard screams and cries coming from the eastern hall.

He rushed up to the door being banged on and found that there was a simple lock charm placed on the door. He reversed it and opened the door, causing MC to fall out onto the hall floor.

He kneeled down next to them, reminding them that they're out and will be okay as they try to calm their breathing.

The human leans into the demon, crying into his chest, and he wraps his arms around them.

Lucifer rubbed circles on his Love's back, waiting for them to calm down before asking any questions.

Discovers that some of their classmates had been giving them trouble for a while now, but they didn't want to worry him or his brothers so they kept it to themselves.

One of them found out about the human's phobia somehow and locked them in the closet because they thought it was funny.

Very pissed. Mostly composed, but still pissed off.

Let's MC go home for the rest of the day and pulls Mammon out of class in order to walk them home.

Pulls the students that MC named out of class for disciplinary measures. The teachers don't dare to question him.

Makes sure to make an example out of them so others know not to mess his Love from here on out.

Overall, he is understanding about their phobia and won't let others use it against them without punishment.

Mammon:

The second brother took them to a party packed with people. Big mistake.

The two barely had any room to cut through the crowd, which MC tried so hard not to do.

They kept trying to tell Mammon that they didn't want to go farther in and tried to tug away from him, but he couldn't hear them over the music and never looked back to see that they themselves were doing the tugging and it wasn't just other people getting in the way.

Suddenly, at least from Mammon's point of view, his Human just dropped to the floor into a ball (though still on their feet) and starting sobbing.

Panicking, the man picked up MC and pushed past the other people, rushing them to the front of the house and outside to the porch.

He kept asking them what's wrong and the human kept crying and shaking there head, saying they didn't wanna go inside and tried to tell him.

Devil, did this man feel like shit. He pulled them in close for a hug and waited for them to calm down.

Once calm, they explained their phobia and why they tried so hard to pull away from him while he brought them deeper into the crowd.

"I... look, I didn't know, Babe." He told his Human. "Do you need to go home? We can go back now."

MC nodded against his chest and the Avatar of Greed took them home.

The two went to his room and they laid in bed together with MC against his chest.

The demon continued to ask them for the rest of the night if they were okay and if he could do something for them, even though MC always said they were fine.

The poor guy felt guilty as hell for putting them in such a situation and just wanted to make up for it.

Leviathan:

It happened the first time they slept in Levi's room with him.

MC had agreed to sleep in there with him because the shy otaku was actually able to speak up and ask them to, which means he was probably fighting with himself for weeks in his head about it.

The human forgot an important detail when they accepted though: their boyfriend doesn't sleep in a bed; they sleep in a bathtub.

As they lowered down next to the demon, MC could feel their anxiety spike at the close walls of the tub.

Levi noticed this, but chalked it up to just nervousness of the two laying down together to sleep for the first time.

Somehow, MC eventually fell asleep

And fell into a bad dream about walls moving in and crushing them.

Levi woke up to his Human panicking and flailing in their sleep. Because of the tub's size, that meant they had been hitting him awake.

The Avatar of Envy didn't care though. Panicking now as well, he shook his Henry awake, who in turn started crying and hyperventilating as they climbed out and on to the floor.

Poor boy didn't know what to do; he froze up and essentially waited for the human to get their breathing under control before crawling out and sitting next to them awkwardly.

"I... I'm sorry." MC wiped their eyes, gaze glued on the floor and away from him. "I'm sorry, I--"

The demon pulled the blanket out of the tub and laid it over both of their legs.

"It's fine... are you okay?"

The human sniffled before explaining the phobia and then the dream they had.

Levi was mentally kicking himself, blaming himself for scaring them like this.

MC laid their head against his shoulder and the demon wrapped an arm around them.

Eventually, the human fell asleep like that. Levi stayed awake a bit longer, listening to their breathing.

"I'm sorry, Henry... I didn't know." The man mumbled.

Satan:

An observant man. MC never had to tell him, but he learned of their phobia through their actions.

He first noticed it from how they generally did not like going into his room. At first, he thought it had something to do with him, something that made them uncomfortable about being alone with him

But when the two started dating and it still persisted, the demon realized that could not be the case.

Once he started noticing how they'd avoid closets and the kitchen pantry in favor of having him or his brothers grabbed stuff for them, it all clicked in place; they were scared of small spaces.

Doesn't quite understand what about them is frightening to the human, but admits that his room is rather cramped because of all of the books.

One day, he comes home from spending time with his friend accomplice Mephisto and goes to check on them in the kitchen since they were on cooking duty

And found them on the floor of the pantry in a ball, crying.

The blonde quickly pulled them out and helped calm his Kitten down.

Once calm, they explained how no one was home so they had to look for some ingredients on their own and the tight space was just too much for them.

Satan rubbed their back and apologized for being out so long.

He asked what they needed and retrieved them from the pantry.

The two cooked dinner together and MC felt much better thanks to their boyfriend.

Asmodeus:

Along with the cultural exchange between realms, there were a lot of human world activities being adopted in the Devildom.

The one that currently interested the Avatar of Lust? Tanning beds.

The curiosity of humanity's interest in them on a beauty level really struck the fifth brother so he dragged his Dolly with him.

MC didn't have the heart to say no so they followed their boyfriend.

When they got there though, MC took one look at the size of the tanning bed and knew they couldn't handle it.

"Azzy... I wanna go home. Please."

The man had been so wrapped up in his own head, happily chatting with the human this whole time that he didn't see how tense they were till now.

He was ready ask why and push MC into it, but his words died on his tongue as he noticed that they weren't just tense; they seemed scared. But why?

The demon frowned, wrapping an arm around their waist and hugging them.

MC was quiet on the way home.

"I'm sorry." They said softly as the entered House of Lamentation. "I meant to try for you, but..."

The human explained their phobia and how it made being in small spaces very challenging for them.

"Oh, Doll, you should have said something!!"

The man gave the human a tight hug and kissed their cheek.

"Promise me you'll tell me if something makes you uncomfortable for now on, okay?"

Beelzebub:

It was festival time in the Devildom and the streets were lined up with food stalls.

It was Beel's favorite time of year

So when he asked MC to come get food with him, the human really didn't think much of it until they saw how thick the crowd was.

"Uh... Beel?" The human tugged on his sleeve. "I'm gonna stay here; you can go get the food."

They gave an anxious smile and the Avatar of Gluttony raised an eyebrow at them.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine... I'd just rather not go into such a big crowd."

The big guy nodded and said he'd be back.

Ten minutes later, he came back with arms full of food and handed them their cotton candy.

"Thanks, Beely."

He leaned down and kissed their head.

"No problem, Muffin."

MC never had to tell him about their phobia; it simply wasn't needed.

Beel was very accepting of his human's feelings and didn't question them; they were uncomfortable and that was enough for the sixth brother not to push them into it.

Probably the sweetest brother about the situation and the only one MC's not really worried about disappointing or causing trouble for.

Belphegor:

Belphie had fallen asleep in class; no shocker there.

When he woke up, class was over and everyone had left for the day

Mostly, at least.

As he navigated the empty halls, the Avatar of Sloth started hearing screams coming from another corridor.

Familiar screams.

He rushed down and made a hard left, seeing some minor demons try to force his Human into a small closet.

Belphie let out a growl and grabbed the closest one to him, knocking them out with his miasma aura, causing the others to let go of MC and scatter.

His Human fell to the floor, sobbing heavily.

Belphie dropped the minor demon, who landed hard onto the floor beneath them, before leaning down and hugging them.

He used his aura more gently with them, just enough to calm MC.

"Hey, you're fine." Their boyfriend held them close

And accidentally made them fall asleep.

The seventh brother didn't think about all of the energy his Human used up trying to fight off the minor demons.

Ends up carrying them back home and takes a nap with them up in the attic.

When they wake up, Belphie finds out that Mammon never came to pick them up from class, but they tried to leave the school anyway.

Some other students tried using this as an opportunity to mess with them and it escalated from there.

The Avatar of Sloth was pissed, but decided to keep his focus on his Human for now

And will hunt those dirtbags down later.

MC never said anything outright about their phobia, but Belphie didn't need to know in order to understand that what happened was scary for them.