#by the end of one of them the server was only making eye contact with me and a 26yo at the table

[angelusteal]

It really should be mandatory to do both retail/customer service and online customer service.. Knowing what it's like being on the receiving end really does help you a) treat workers better and b) get WAY better service imo

[comic-sans-chan]

Fic I'll never write where Dukat decides the biennial Cardassian Festival of Whatever the Fuck (it is never actually specified) should be hosted on Deep Space Nine as a way of bridging the gap between the Cardassian and Bajoran peoples. Sisko and Kira are both Ehhhh about it, but Dukat is obnoxiously persistent until finally the Bajoran government and Federation higher ups are like “K”, on the condition that no Cardassian military (or Order) personnel be allowed. All security for the event will be handled by Odo and Starfleet. Dukat is suspiciously cool with this, which puts everyone on alert, but soon Cardassian vendors and decorators start showing up and they turn out to be pretty chill people, so they let it happen.

While the preparations for the festival are underway, another operation has started. A motherfucker from Garak's past is doing typical motherfucker things on the station. One of these things is scouting Garak's quarters, learning the layout, tracking Garak's routine. It becomes clear very quickly that the rapidly increasing number of Cardassians on DS9 is putting Garak on edge, though, because he seems to be fiddling more with his security protocols, so the motherfucker realizes they need to make their move and they need to make it fast.

They succeed. Sort of. With the circumstances as they are, they had to get a little... creative, but it should do the trick.

By early next morning, every PADD, screen, and computer system on the station is streaming seventy-two different poems on a constant loop. Love poems. Ardent, anguished, often utterly indecent love poems, all with the central theme of being about one Doctor Julian Bashir.

Quark is one of the first to notice the problem, being the type of asshole who opens early despite this only increasing his bottom line by a fraction of a fraction. At first, he's furious that his systems have been tampered with, but after reading a few lines of what his normal menu and advertisements have been replaced with, he's laughing, and by the end of the third poem, he's on the floor.

"Odo!" he shouts, banging on the bastard's door twenty minutes later. "Odo, open up! We've got a problem!"

Odo slinks under the door and slips up between it and Quark's pounding fist with a glare. "Quark! I'm not on duty for another hour. What could possibly be so urgent?"

Quark's sharp little rat teeth are splitting his face clean in half as he holds up the PADD. "Take a look."

Odo scrolls through a couple poems, then squints and scrolls through several more. "Erotic love poetry? I didn't peg you for the type."

"To like erotica? Hoo, I thought you paid better attention than that, Constable."

Odo returns the PADD with a dry expression. "To read."

"Oh, you're hilarious." He taps Odo's chest with the PADD. "The whole station is filled with this stuff. My bar, the Replimat, the Celestial Cafe, the promenade. Someone's either desperate to make a statement, or we've been sabatoged."

Dramatic sci-fi music swells and we get a close-up of Odo’s eerily hairless face and nasal cavity.

The next few hours are dedicated to trying and failing to seize back the servers and briefing the bridge staff on the situation.

"Are we sure these are all about Doctor Bashir?" Sisko's voice booms across Ops. He's on his second cup of coffee and a pile of useless PADDs lay beside him.

Julian has remained stoic throughout the discussion and he remains so now, avoiding eye contact with anyone who's smiling a little too wide. Like Jadzia. "Oh, definitely," she says. "He's mentioned by name in three of them, and several others make a point of highlighting the subject's 'golden sand dune skin', 'aristocratic' features, and 'voice that never stops singing.' Sounds like Julian to me."

A few snickers break out, but Sisko is taking the matter seriously. Thank fuck, Julian thinks. It actually looks like it's giving him a headache, which would make two of them if Julian was capable of having headaches. The captain's rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "And the source..."

"There's a clear data trail back to Garak's quarters. Whoever did this, they wanted us to know where it came from," Kira reports. A muscle jumps in Julian's cheek.

"I tracked Garak down for his statement on the issue," Odo says, gruff, "and he told me he had nothing to do with the virus. In fact, he denied ever having laid eyes on the poems in his life. He's claiming he's been framed." He rolls his eyes.

"Okay," Jadzia says, "we all agree he's lying, right?"

"But which part..."

"Oh, they're Garak's. I've read enough Lloja of Prim to be familiar with traditional Kardasi meter and syntax, and that isn't even going into all the parallels drawn between our doctor and Prime. Sand, heat, rainforests. Bit of Romulan imagery in there, too, if I'm not mistaken. A lot of flowers and vines. Wasn't Garak a gardener?"

"I see no reason why anyone would want to embarass themselves like this," O'Brien cuts in before Jadzia can make it worse. "Even if he is trying to distract us or something, this seems counterproductive in the long term. Everyone’s watching him now, not just us. The rumor mill is running rampant. Not exactly a spy’s MO."

"He did blow up his shop once."

"Because someone was trying to kill him," Julian pipes up for the first time, looking concerned. "Do you think this might be another cry for help?"

"Oh, it's a cry for something," Jadzia quips, and Julian shuts the fuck up.

"Dax," Sisko snaps, like the good benevolent Wormhole Alien Jesus he is, and Dax shuts the fuck up, too. Sisko gives them all the stink eye. "Constable, you're nearly as familiar with Garak as the doctor is," he says, and holds a hand up before any jokes can be made. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he's behind this, sir. None of the pieces add up, and he seemed genuinely agitated when I spoke to him, in his way. At present, I believe he is as much a victim here as the rest of us."

Sisko sighs. "All right. Do we have any idea who is behind this?"

The room is silent for a time, before Odo reluctantly answers for everyone, "Not yet, sir."

"Find out," Sisko demands, "and Chief, get these damn poems off of my reports. Dismissed."

Julian is out of the room before anyone else has stood up.

The rest of the day is spent ducking in and out of his office, only treating those who ask for him by name and keeping all conversations strictly professional. Any mentions of poetry, the festival, Cardassians, or Garak are firmly sidelined, and on a couple occasions, rewarded with a none-too-gentle hypo. He skips lunch altogether and extends his shift by two hours to avoid the dinner rush.

By the time he's leaving the Infirmary, it's late. Unfortunately for him, not late enough that the halls aren't still speckled with observers to his personal soap opera. With the Festival of Frank’s Hot Dogs less than a week away, DS9 is becoming increasingly crowded with tourists, mostly Cardassian, but a surprising amount Bajoran, too–apparently this festival was a rare bright point during the Occupation, when their oppressors were not only lenient with them for once, but generous with food and drink and freedoms. It doesn't hurt that the only Cardassians on board are civilian rather than military, so the atmosphere is rather more colorful, courteous and conversational rather than cold, dark and aggressive. It would make Julian smile if he wasn't so busy being gawked at.

"I don't see it," one Cardassian man grumbles and Julian's accursed augmented ears pick up. "He's even smoother than a Bajoran."

"Oh, yeah," his companion replies, "just think of how easily he'd slide around."

"Tanett!"

"Oh, hush, Grandpa. You're just xenophobic. He's cute."

"Well, you be careful who hears you say that. That Garak fellow is in the Order, you know. Ears everywhere. You don't want to know what things a man like that is capable of."

"Wasn't he exiled? Hardly intimidating now. Apparently all he's capable of anymore is whimpering over an alien like a pakrela."

Julian covers his ears and walks faster.

But that just brings him within range of a cluster of Bajorans. "Oh, there's the doctor now," one is saying, up on the balcony. 

"The one the Cardassian tailor wrote about?"

"That poor fool. He thought they were friends, but here this whole time it was perverse. I can only imagine how much that hurts."

"Happened to my friend once. He thought a glinn was being kind because he was having a crisis of conscience and wanted to help him escape. No, he just wanted to–"

He could go to his quarters, but a flash of memory - Garak's bright eyes at the end of his bed, his figure encased in shadow - sends him in the opposite direction. Before long, he finds himself on an oft-unused Observation deck, since it offers no view of the wormhole or either Bajor or Cardassia's suns. It's blessedly empty, as usual, and Julian settles on a bench and stares into the dark nothingness of space for a long time.

At some point, he finds that his hand has retrieved the PADD from his medical bag, and the screen is lit up automatically with the first poem.

He reads well into the night.

—

The next morning finds Garak with a tall glass of rokassa juice and two eggs, staring intensely into a mysteriously operational PADD at the far end of Quark's bar. Quark pops out of his backroom like a jack-in-the-box.

"Ha! Well, if it isn't the man of the hour himself, gracing my fine establishment so soon after nearly destroying it. Do you know I've had to have menus printed, like we're in the dark ages? Do you have any idea how extensive my menu is? I ought to sue you for damages." He catches a glimpse of the PADD's screen and its decidedly unpoetic contents. "Hey, you fixed it? How?"

"It was just a simple virus. Viruses can be purged," Garak says without looking up. He barely seems aware of Quark's existence.

When no other words are forthcoming, Quark huffs. "Well, can you purge it from the rest of the station, then?"

"I gave the program to the Chief last night."

"And he didn't immediately come here to fix my bar? I'll have to file a complaint.”

Garak offers no reply. Just continues to stare into his PADD.

There are other customers he could be seeing to, but Quark can't pass up this golden opportunity. He's known Garak a long time and known of him even longer, and now that he has the guy's guts all neatly lined up on several dozen isolinear rods, he's never felt closer to the man. He makes a point of knowing things about his customers, but before yesterday, the most he knew about Garak was that he was an assassin, a tailor, a mean, weepy drunk, and friends with Bashir, Odo, and a smattering of other shopkeepers. That was it. But now...

He leans over the counter, closer to Garak's unblinking face. "You know," he says, with a smile rising slow on his cheeks, "if it's humans you like, I have a couple holosuite programs that might be just what you need."

Garak's gaze ascends as if on a motor, smooth and mechanical.

Good. He’s considering the bait. Now he just has to get him to bite. "All completely customizable. Skin, eyes, hair. You like long legs, they've got long legs. Scrawny, they're scrawny. Whatever you want. Although if you're really hung up on the one face, that can also be arranged. For the right price." When Garak just looks at him, Quark switches tactics. "Or maybe it's the uniform that does it for you? I've got 'em, but I'd suggest something out of my lingerie databases. I've still got some little Cardassian numbers filed away that I think even a man with your discerning tastes could appreciate. Just imagine, Doctor Bashir in a–"

He doesn't see the hand coming until it's already crushing his windpipe. Quark claws at it for several long, desperate moments while Garak continues to look.

Leeta scuttling over and yanking him away is what ultimately puts a stop to it, and it's while Quark is gasping in dramatic bursts of air that Leeta says in a rush, "Garak, please! Whatever he said, he didn't mean it!"

"Oh, I meant it," Quark coughs out with a high, strangled laugh, "he just didn't like it."

"Whatever conclusions you've drawn in the last twenty-six hours, allow me to dispel them," Garak says primly, as if he hadn't almost committed murder in broad daylight. "I am not a xenophile and I do not have feelings for Doctor Bashir. There are no less than two-hundred Cardassians currently aboard the station, and I assure you, none of them like me. Those poems were obviously planted."

Oh, but Quark is a little pissed now, unwise as that is. "Please, Garak," he says, "who has time to write that many poems about Julian just to mess with you? Two or three, maybe, but over seventy? If you're going to lie, at least don't insult our intelligence."

Garak's eyes flash and Quark ducks behind Leeta, repentant. Leeta sighs. "Garak, what's so bad about loving Julian?" she asks softly. "I thought the poems were really touching. It’s sweet how much you care for him."

But he's already staring into his PADD again. "I'm sorry, Miss Leeta, but I am a bit busy. Perhaps we can discuss my hypothetical feelings for your paramour another time."

"Julian and I have never been serious," she tries to assure him, but he's engrossed again, or at least pretending to be. Her and Quark share a look and leave him to it. Lesson learned.

"Let the bastard be pent up and miserable, then," Quark grumbles from the other end of the bar as he pours Table 3's drinks. A prickle on his neck has him looking up and there Garak's eyes are again, piercing, and Quark rushes off to deliver the drinks.

The three young Cardassians there are much more friendly. One has their nose stuck in one of the useless poetry PADDs while the other two smile at Quark while he sets out their orders.

"Three Raktajinos, extra bitter," Quark says, and is thanked. Polite. One even praises the drink's exoticness. Klingon coffee, exotic. Heh. "Your food will be out in a few."

Before he can finish turning, though, a hand is touching his arm. "What is the title of this anthology you include at every table?" the young man asks.

"Oh, that's not..." He sighs. "It's new. I can't remember."

"Find out for us, please," he says. "Works like these can be hard to come by on Prime and we make it our business to collect them. Whoever this author is, they're very unique."

"If these aren't banned on Prime already, they will be soon," his friend comments with a giggle.

"No doubt."

"'In my desolation, I am as weeds: Cut my roots and Let the waters take me, To drown and bloom anew, in You,'" the one with her nose in the PADD reads aloud, and shivers. "They'd burn the whole Central Archive down just for this one. It's so explicit."

"Let me see that," the boy demands, as the other one is already surging over to read over the girl's shoulder. Watching them fight over the PADD has Quark thinking back to the isolinear rods in his safe, and he hums thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder.

Garak isn't looking.

—

Glinn Halon Duvur. Former underling of Gul Dukat. Out of uniform, vacationing on Deep Space Nine with his wife and nine children. Spends his days gambling while his kids play unsupervised in the holosuites and his wife visits old friends. 

Beloved uncle sent to trial by the Obsidian Order in 2356 and executed that same day for crimes of attempted sabotage against Cardassia.

Garak watches the man wander down the promenade sans his proud lineage, jingling a fat little bag of gold-pressed latinum and yet-unconverted leks. He wanders out of range, so Garak switches to the next camera and there that unfortunate face is again. He drums his fingers on the desk. It won't be long now.

An alert rings in his ear and he almost initiates the shockfield on impulse, but the flash of smooth, brown skin on a monitor stays his hand. The knocking comes, and that haunting voice calls out, "Garak! Are you there?"

Garak rests his head next to the surveillance screens.

Predictably, the doctor tries to input his override, but the door remains shut. There's a long pause.

"Garak..." Julian sounds irate. Garak hums. "Did you deprogram my override code? Nevermind how illegal that is, that's dangerous! What if you're injured? Or fall ill?"

He says this just after attempting to abuse his station privileges for personal reasons. Infuriating hypocrite.

"Oh, my barging in at random, odd hours is no less than you deserve, Garak," Julian says as if in response to Garak's thoughts. "You set that precedent in our relationship yourself."

Terrible man.

"Fine. I'll give you some more time, since you want it so badly, but I'll be back and when I am, that override had better work. If it doesn’t, I promise there will be hell to pay, my friend."

Beautiful man.

"Goodbye, Mr. Garak."

Goodbye, Doctor.

Glinn Duvur dies two hours later of alcohol poisoning while his wife is in bed with Gul Rilimn's wife.

—

“I just can’t believe it,” Kira is bitching. Jadzia smiles and sips her drink, looking out over the Replimat balcony at all the happy brunchgoers. “A Cardassian writing poetry about something that isn’t conquest or the wonders of dictatorial rule or, at best, the pride of the traditional family nobly bowing and scraping. I’ve never seen it.”

“It would certainly seem to run counter to Cardassian values.”

“And about Julian!” she shrieks in her inside voice, slapping her hands down on the table. “Garak the spy, writing love poetry about Julian. Going on and on about his–his...”

“Ass?” Jadzia offers.

“Eyes. His eyes! Ohhh, I knew he wanted to have sex with him, everyone knew that, but to write about his eyes like... like that? It’s practically Bajoran.”

“That’s true.”

Kira stops long enough in her tirade to eye her, and presses her lips into a thin line. “How are you so calm about this?”

Jadzia takes another sip. “I’m just fascinated,” she says. “I’ll admit, I’ve been looking at this more through Tobin’s eyes than my own. Have I ever told you that he met Lloja of Prim during his exile?” 

“He did not.”

“He did, and Lloja flirted with him outrageously. It was embarrassing, looking back. Of course, nothing ever came of it, because Tobin was always hopelessly blind to those sorts of things even without the language barrier, but his children liked to joke that many of Lloja’s poems were about him.”

Kira’s jaw is hanging. “Were they?”

Jadzia grins and shrugs. Kira laughs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps,” Jadzia allows, “but I do wonder... Being able to call nervous, asexual Tobin the lover of Lloja of Prim would have been quite the notch in my belt. Think of the stories I could have told! And now here Julian is with the opportunity. I know it’s not the same, I mean, it’s Garak. But, you have to admit, to write about him like that...”

“He must really love him,” Kira finishes for her, stumped. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I didn’t see it, either,” Jadzia confesses. “I was still wrestling with the idea that they were actually friends. I thought their association was strictly professional and all the books and flirting were just a front.” She cradles her head in her hands suddenly and sighs. “Ugh, but those poems. The poems are so good! Kira...”

“I know,” she moans. “They’re heart-wrenching. Which one are you on now?”

“Thirty-nine. I came back home, but I came back gone.”

“Ouch.”

“I know.”

A shout from below interrupts them and they both shoot out of their seats. Below, a Cardassian man has just had a beam fall on top of him. Jadzia and Kira bound down the stairs to him, Jadzia already slapping a hand on her comm badge. 

“Dax to Infirmary, a man has just been crushed, possibly impaled. Send a medical team to Replimat and be ready for emergency beam out.”

“Acknowledged, we’re on our way,” Girani says, but already Kira is looking up at Jadzia helplessly, the man’s wrist laying limp between her hands.

“He’s gone.”

“Shit!” Jadzia hunches over, hands on her knees. “That’s the third one today. Are Cardassians always this accident prone? No wonder you won the war.”

“No,” Kira says. “They’re not. You don’t think...”

“I don’t know,” Jadzia says grimly, and looks around at the crowd that’s formed. All Cardassian, all terrified. “But we need to find out.”

—

A Cardassian is sitting at the bar. This isn’t an unusual sight now, with the Festival of 90s Funk and Beyond coming up, but seeing one so young and looking so hunted is odd. Quark approaches him casually.

“What’ll you have?”

The Cardassian’s eyes dart. “Uh...” He leans over suddenly, cups both hands over his mouth, and whispers, “E. G. Special.”

Christ, these kids are going to kill him. “Coming right up,” he says in a normal person voice, and reaches under the bar for a glass. A little drink-mixing magic later, a beautiful fizzy blue drink is sitting between them, with an isolinear rod tucked neatly in the straw.

The Cardassian takes the drink between both hands excitedly, and Quark snaps his fingers in front of him. “Oh! Right,” the kid stutters, and all but launches the latinum at Quark’s face. “Thank you!” And off he goes, out of the bar with the glass still tight in his grasp.

“Idiot,” Quark mutters to himself, crouching carefully down to pick the latinum up off the floor without dirtying his expensive pants. “You’re supposed to take the straw, not the entire glass. That’s it, I’m switching to plastic. These little rebel brats don’t deserve my ni—Oh, hello, Constable! I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Odo looks as unimpressed as ever. “That’s a funny question since last I checked, I don’t drink.”

“Ah, right, because you’re a liquid. How could I forget. You know, one of these days, I ought to serve you up with a little umbrella, see how people like it. I’d bet you taste bitter.” Odo harrumphs, and Quark makes himself busy with wiping down the counter. “Well, out with it then. What nefarious scheme am I up to now? I love to hear your little stories.”

Four isolinear rods drop onto the counter, right where Quark was just cleaning. “Hey now,” he says, throwing a performative glare at the changeling. “Careful. If you shatter glass in my bar, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I just had the most interesting conversation with the Tokal family,” Odo says, steamrolling right over him. “It seems their four darling children had somehow come into some questionable reading material. They tried searching for it in the Central Archives and yet, despite it being clearly Cardassian in origin, they could not find it. And I don’t need to tell you that when a piece of Cardassian reading material isn’t in the Central Archives...”

Quark, from his plastered position on the floor, stares up into Odo’s face directly horizontal to his and smiles. “What?”

“It’s illegal,” Odo sneers, stretching his body even further over the bar and nearly sending Quark starfishing. 

“Okay! Odo! I get it! But what does that have to do with me?”

“Quark!”

“Okay, okay! Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I’ll stop! I’ll stop, okay?”

“I know you’re going to stop, because I am going to confiscate every copy of Garak’s poetry that you have absconded with and destroy them.”

Quark gasps. “Book burning? In this day and age?”

“Garak did not give his permission for you to sell his work! He didn’t even want anyone to see it in the first place! Those poems were stolen. Now, I expect a list of every person you sold a copy to and a full and complete refund to be issued by tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

Quark glowers. “You’ve made yourself something, all right.”

“Quark...”

“Okay! All right. Consider it done.”

-

Turora Lumok. Obsidian Order operative and old colleague. Usually in deep cover in the Organian sectre, but has abandoned post to explore the space station. Barren, unattached. Cold. A model agent, if you ignore her unfortunate habit of going rogue and eliminating civilians on a whim. 

Recruited into the Order by Enabran Tain’s former right hand, Euluk Bucun, who was assassinated by Elim Garak in 2341 under orders from Enabran Tain for suspicions of treason. Turora Lumok disciplined shortly afterward by Elim Garak for complaining that she had wanted to be the one to kill that bitch.

Garak watches as the woman pretends to touch up her makeup while scouting for cameras. “Oh, Lumok, you always were woefully obvious. Have you been expecting me? I wonder why.”

Satisfied with the positions of the cameras, she puts away her mirror and strolls out of sight.

Garak shakes his head. “Fool. You forget how long I’ve lived on this wretched station. I don’t need to see you every second to know where you are.”

But then, the smell of antiseptic. Starfleet issue soap. Herbal shampoo, unique, robust. Gels. Oils. Sweat. 

He’s near.

Forcing calmness with a deep, measured breath, he takes off his eyepiece and slips it into his sleeve. He pays for the food he barely ate. He stands. He turns.

And is promptly thrust into the dark, deep woods of Julian Bashir’s eyes. “There you are, Garak! I’ve been looking all over for you,” the doctor says as if it’s just a regular day on Deep Space Nine. His hot, mammalian body caging him tightly in place against the table betrays the ruse. “Who was it you were talking to?”

Garak tries to step around him. Julian steps with him. “Oh, only ever myself. Forgive me, but you’ve caught me just on my way out. I have a strict appointment at 2.”

There’s Julian’s hand now. On his shoulder. Garak is calm. This is normal. “Well, why don’t I walk you there then.”

“My dear Doctor, I couldn’t rob you of your meal. Clearly you’ve just walked in.”

“Actually, I’ve found I’m craving something a bit different now.”

Garak makes to step around Julian again, and still Julian’s steps match his. It’s like they’re dancing. He doesn’t let this deter him. He’s not sure he’s capable of letting anything deter him now, with his heart trying to pound out of his throat. He keeps stepping doggedly forward, and Julian keeps mirroring, still with that damned hand burning through his tunic. “Well, you only have so much time before you must return to the infirmary, I know. Do not allow me to delay you in securing a table at a different locale.”

“Oh, but you’ve already delayed me so long. What’s a few more minutes?” A peek of teeth, a hint of warning. “Though I will admit... I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

“Then don’t.” Finally, Garak manages to elbow past this madness and shoot out of the restaurant. The station is so crowded these days, it’s short work to get lost in it. In a sea of ridges and black hair, Garak slips his eyepiece back on and lets the wave take him. 

“Garak!”

Oh, for the Union’s sake—

He does not run. He does not stumble. He walks normally and not desperately, keeping his eye on both the path to the turbolift and Lumok. She’s down the corridor now, pretending to check her makeup again like an imbecile. Just a few paces more. Almost there...

“Garak, you’re the best dressed one here! You are not difficult to spot, you ridiculous dandy! Oh, no offense, Ma’am. Lovely scarf. Excuse me.”

There.

In the reflection of the mirror, Garak makes eye contact with the rogue and taps in the correct sequence on the device sewed into the seam of his pants just as the turbolift doors close behind him.

Like that, Turora Lumok is beamed into space and dies instantly, without a soul to mourn her, and Elim Garak walks back to his quarters with a hand over his mouth and a warmth on his shoulder, without a soul to mourn him, either.

—-

The Festival of Fierce and Fantastic Frogs is two days away and already it is being protested.

Outside Quark’s Bar is a growing army of dissident children with voice amplifiers and holoprojectors shouting to the stars that if they don’t get their porn back, they’ll tear it all down. Signs are projected in the air with essays cycling through them that look to be several pages each, a small holographic fire barely reaching ankle-height is lighting up the length of the promenade, and – perhaps most disturbingly – a comically inaccurate approximation of Odo is rotating at the center of the group, fitted in the typical regalia of the Cardassian military and holding a Klingon bat’leth. It is certainly... something.

“They’re Cardassians,” Quark is saying as he pours out some root beers. “They’ve probably never seen a protest in their lives, they don’t know what they’re doing. The Union puts an end to things like this pretty fast on the surface.”

“Heh,” Jadzia says, “what happens on DS9, stays on DS9.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Kira asks.

“It’s something Julian likes to say. Basically, they figure they can get away with speaking their minds here.”

Kira drums her fingers on the bar, staring into the flailing protestors thoughtfully. 

Right then, Odo arrives back on the scene. It looks like he’s trying to get through, respectfully, but the protestors are not making it easy. Jadzia and Kira come to his rescue just as about fifteen Cardassians start forming a blockade around him.

“I walked around as you do, investigating the endless stars,” one young woman is yelling at him while he stands there with big helpless baby eyes, “and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind!” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Odo says consolingly.

“Clearly!”

“Okay, okay, let him through!” Kira wiggles her way between the crowd and Odo, snatching him by the arm like a fish with a hook. “He’s not your enemy here, he was just upholding your laws!”

“The Cardassian government has no jurisdiction on a Bajoran station!”

“He made his choices!”

“Beautiful Julian would be ashamed of you! Repent! Repent!”

Kira and Jadzia manage to reel him most of the way through the protesters and he shapeshifts the rest of the journey. The protestors try to follow, but Quark bustles over to stop them. “No, no demonstrations inside! Remember who your allies are,” he says, and they all cow back. “Thank you.”

Odo ripples his form a couple times to make sure everything’s back in the right place and harrumphs. “Allies, Quark?”

“Yes, allies. It’s terrible what you’ve done to them. You can’t police art, Odo–-this is culture we're talking about here, the very bedrock of society.”

“And I’m sure this virtuous attitude of yours has nothing to do with the incredible profit you made and lost at the expense of our mutual friend.”

“Oh, I did him a favor.” Quark uncaps another bottle of Kanar and gestures back to the entrance, with its swarm of frothing Cardassian children. “Look, he’s got fans!”

“How has Garak been handling all this?” Kira asks Odo, sharing a look with Jadzia. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since he gave us that antivirus program.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Didn’t you have breakfast with him yesterday?”

“Hmmm, that would have been routine. Except he didn’t show. When I made it back to my office, I found a message from him apologizing, telling me he’s so busy with orders he’s lost all track of time.”

“How has he been getting commissions?” Jadzia asks. “His shop’s been closed all week.”

Odo rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure the reality is he’s simply avoiding the issue. Dr. Bashir has informed me he’s been treating him like ‘the black plague’ as well.” 

“Julian’s one to talk. He practically pole-vaulted over a vedek the other day to get away from me.” 

“Speak of the devil,” Quark says, looking towards the door, and everyone turns just as the commotion starts–or, more accurately, the commotion abruptly stops. 

The protestors have all gone quiet, in apparent awe as they part around Julian like the red sea around Moses. He’s smiling stupidly as he stands in the center of them, nodding at something a Cardassian man is exclaiming. It’s an incredibly awkward scene, and Quark starts choking at some of the things his ears are picking up. “They’ve deified him,” he tells them, and Jadzia bursts into giggles at the idea, but Quark isn’t joking. “Really. He might as well be one of the prophets to them. You read the poems. You know.”

Ugh. Kira wrinkles her nose in disgust. The worst kind of blasphemy–horny blasphemy. “What is he even doing here?” she asks. 

“Getting his head inflated,” Jadzia says dryly, because now that Quark has mentioned it, it’s pretty clear from the shit-eating grin on Julian’s face that that’s exactly what’s happening. 

“Poor Garak.” Quark says it absentmindedly, but the comment gets several eyes turned on him. He’s shaking his head as he watches the scene unfold. “First, he falls for a human… humiliating… but then that love becomes public knowledge and several young beautiful Cardassians decide that he’s onto something, and now that human is going to get more action in a week than he’s seen his entire life. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of more than a few star-crossed romances, but this might just be the saddest.”

“Julian wouldn’t have an orgy the same week the whole station found out Garak’s in love with him,” Jadzia says, insulted on his behalf.

Quark hefts a tray up onto his shoulder. “He just did,” he says as he leaves to go do his job, and Jadzia whips her head around to see Julian escorting two attractive Cardassians away from the protest. Her jaw drops.

“Bastard,” Kira spits, surprising everyone, herself most of all. Those poems must’ve affected her more than she realized.

Odo clears his throat unnecessarily. “I’m no expert on the behavior of solids, but it seems to me that neither party is handling this situation well.”

“I’ll tell you how the pakrela should be handling this,” an older Cardassian sitting at the far end of the bar cuts in, with a twitch to him that makes it clear he’s more than a few deep. “He should be settling his assets, because he doesn’t have long now. Whatever his human is doing is the least of his worries. Ha. Hehe. Being a traitor wasn’t enough for him. No, now he’s gone and corrupted the next generation with his degeneracy. Exile was too soft a punishment. Uh-huh.”

Kira opens her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Odo touches her shoulder. “You speak as if you know him,” he notes mildly, because of course, the exact reason for Garak’s exile isn’t public record. It’s barely even private record. The Order doesn’t work that way–or didn’t, as it stands. It is interesting that this man is acting like he has classified information despite being a civilian. 

But then, sometimes day drinkers just like to spout speculation as fact.

The man looks into his glass and laughs at his reflection. “Who doesn’t know Garak these days? But that’s temporary. He’ll be forgotten soon enough, just like the Order.” He finishes his drink and gets up. He insincerely mutters some friendly Cardassian farewell and starts to walk past them, but Kira can’t let it go.

“Excuse me, but what’s your name, sir? You’ve been so informative.”

He looks at her for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he says, and elbows past the protesters.

—

“Solt Mebol, left behind a widow and child six years ago when he was tragically killed in a transporter accident. In reality, he accepted an undercover mission which required him to fake his death and have his bond dissolved. A significant sacrifice. Certainly not one many Cardassians could have made.”

The Cardassian stares at Garak sitting on his couch. Turning, he tries to exit his temporary quarters, but the door won’t open.

Garak tuts. “Oh, you know better than that, Mebol.” He taps his disruptor with his forefinger, resting harmlessly against his knee. “The festival isn’t for another couple days, yet here you are. Catching up with old friends before the festivities, I assume? Only I haven’t found you in anyone’s company but your own. You must be lonely. Please, let me alleviate your loneliness for a while.”

The Cardassian sighs at the closed door. “Solt, is it?”

“I can tell you the names of your wife and child as well, if you’d like, and the city they live in. Do you know your wife never rebonded? Unusual behavior for a Romulan. Quite dangerous, as I understand it.”

Solt steps carefully into the small living space and sits in the chair opposite Garak, with the coffee table between them. “As one of the last living members of the Order, I don’t suppose you would consider letting me go?”

Garak smiles pleasantly. “I would be delighted.”

“Would you? I had a deal with Central Command and they’ve been good to me so far. You, however, have been known to…” He eyes the disruptor casually turned in his direction.

“Yes, I imagine I must be something of a mystery these days to my people. I have been… squirrely, is what I suppose a human would say, and I must as well now that I’ve been painted with their brush. Oh, it is an incredible sin, I know. That I should enjoy the company of an attractive alien while in exile.”

Solt snorts. “You expect me to believe those poems were the natural result of a fling?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything you do not wish to. I only say that it’s convenient that I should be seen as even more traitorous just as a swarm of Cardassians should enter the station.”

“What’s convenient is that you’re still alive. You have friends in high places willing to go to bat for you, in spite of everything you’ve done. It’s a disgrace. You are a selfish disloyal anarchist and no one is holding you accountable, because you just happened to be good at your job once and everyone likes the idea of having you as a potential weapon should the need for one arise. Until then, they’re content to keep you in a cabinet collecting dust and sentiment. You can wave that disruptor all you want, but we both know you make a poor operative now. You’re in love.” 

Garak is still smiling, but Solt can see the signs of a grimace. Dusty, indeed. Too passionate. Too human. “I’m hardly so foolish. You know better than I the dangers of such things in our line of work. You’re little better than a puppet now that you’ve had a whiff of the truth, Mebol.”

“You’re right.” Solt attempts to raise one eye ridge, despite it being unfit for such maneuvers, and leans forward towards that disruptor. “Pull my strings, then, and let’s test that grip Bashir has on yours.”

—

Kira crashes into Garak’s quarters and kickflips past all his booby traps like Indiana Jones’ hotter cousin.

“What the fuck, Richard?” is basically what she says, only it’s in character, so it’s more like, “What the fuck, Garak!”

Garak spins around in his maniacal villain chair with a look of surprise. “How did you get in here, Major?” Miles bustles his way in after her with his impractically enormous toolkit, and Garak lets out an, “Ah,” then, sedately, “I suppose Dr. Bashir filed a complaint about my tampering with the door codes. Of course, there’s a perfectly logical explanation. You see, it–”

“This isn’t about door codes, Garak,” Kira yells. “What I want to know is why our best suspect for the sudden influx of murders on the station was just found drowned in his own toilet!”

“Oh my,” Garak says. “What an unfortunate end.”

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. We know what you’re capable of, but we’re good people and we didn’t want to accuse a victim until we had exhausted the rest of our line-up. Only, interestingly enough, they’re all dead, so now…” she marches over with the fury of the Prophets on her heels and stands imposingly over him, her teeth clenched, “here we are.”

“That is interesting.” He runs a hand down a roll of fabric in his lap, smoothing it. “I suppose you must have some of that ironclad evidence that the Federation so treasures.”

Kira glares at him.

Garak feigns looking around. “Oh, but I can’t help but notice the good Constable isn’t here with you. What could that mean? Surely not that you broke into my quarters without due cause or a hint of warning–at your own word, not even to fix my glitching door. For all you knew, I could have been in here writing one of my vaunted Bashir epics.”

Kira’s hands are in fists now. “The evidence we have would be more than enough to have your face plastered on every viewscreen in Cardassia and you know it.”

“The Federation and Bajoran legal processes do seem a tad inefficient in moments like these, don’t they?”

“Okay,” Miles cuts in, because he has Turbo PTSD and is not in the mood for a flare up. “I think I'll just wait in the hallway, then. Holler if you need me. Good luck, Major.”

Kira and Garak spend a few moments watching him waddle out of the room and then go back to staring each other down. 

“Look, you ass,” Kira starts, “we couldn’t link every victim to the Cardassian government or some third-party organization, but we were able to link enough of them to recognize that these aren’t just random nobodies having ‘accidents.’ Someone was able to break into your computer and embarrass you and you don’t like that so you’re pitching a fit. I can’t have Odo arrest you – yet – but I can tell you to cut it out. This vigilantism isn’t helping–”

That gets a reaction. “Vigilantism!”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Self-defense.”

“They attacked you?”

“Possibly.”

“Goddamn you, Garak! Just… don’t do this anymore, okay?”

Garak looks at her with innocent astonishment, like he’s still bewildered by her totally plausible accusations. “Well. You have my word, I suppose,” he says, bemused.

—

Gul Skrain Dukat. Blessed with a wife, seven children, two sets of living parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, minus one father. Habitually cheats with lower ranked military officials, slaves, and barely legal adults, unbenownst to his family. Father was interrogated by Elim Garak and executed by the Union over live broadcast in the year 2350 for the crime of being a piece of shit. 

Elim Garak was shortly thereafter levied with an amateurish execution attempt by Gul Dukat. It failed.

The second attempt will succeed, but at a great cost.

The Festival of Filthy Fucking Foot Fetishists has officially begun, but Garak is struggling to feel any enthusiasm. He is surrounded by his people. The station has been dimmed by 15% to better suit Cardassian eyes and misting stations have been set up in limited locations. Extinct and invented flowers crafted by Cardassian and Bajoran artisans decorate the banisters and doorways. A wash of blue, green, and sparkling gold lights up every direction. There is the smell of freshly prepared Cardassian sweets on the air, a gentle warmth suffuses the atmosphere, and children are laughing on the promenade. It’s the first time the station has felt not just tolerable, but nearly pleasant, in years. 

But then, Garak has never felt particularly welcome among his people. As a child, he was an orphan generously cared for by service workers and sponsored by a government official, and as an adult, he was a member of the Order, which granted him more fear and loathing than it did admiration and respect. Companionship, in its truest form, was a rare thing to come by and not something he was encouraged to come by at all.

Perhaps that is why Dr. Bashir blindsided him. 

In any case, Garak is delicately balanced on the line between proper misery and numbness. He gave up imbibing around the same time that he gave up the implant—or rather, the implant gave up on him—but he’s on his third cup now, wandering through the festivities with no particular direction in mind. The exact spot of this last operation isn’t important, only the timing.

He finishes his drink while a group play a spirited game of cold moba in front of him. It shouldn't be long now.

All the nearby screens suddenly flicker from the event schedule to Dukat’s sharp grin and Garak hums. There we are. He knew the bitch wouldn’t be able to resist showing his face.

“Welcome everyone to the biennial Festival of–” a baby wails, “generously hosted here on Deep Space Nine by Bajor and the Federation, and of course organized by our own prodigous Detapa Council. Ah, that wormhole… quite the view, isn’t it?”

Garak looks around for another food stall that serves alcohol. 

There aren’t any stalls in his immediate vicinity, but there is a young Cardassian couple marching towards him while making dogged eye contact. 

Oh no. 

Garak starts to make a break for it. Not too fast, it won’t do to cause a stir, but there are a number of very good reasons for him to stay far away from any Cardassians who might recognize him right now. Especially if the source of that recognition is those damn poems he was too stupid and sentimental to destroy.

Before he can make it more than a few steps, however, he looks up to see another few Cardassians working their way towards him, also making eye contact.

No, no, no.

He makes to move towards the stairs then, only for his eyes to land squarely on him. 

Him, wearing the silky green outfit he lovingly crafted for him a few months ago. Him, shining in the festival lights, casting him in an even more arresting shade of gold than usual. Him, looking determined and coming straight towards him.

Oh, fuck no.

“Garak,” Julian calls out, likely reading the panic on his face and stance and soul.

“Today, I am not a Gul, though,” Dukat is saying. “I am but a humble representative of the Cardassian Union in its totality, and as such, I would like to thank Colonel Kira Nerys and Captain Benjamin Sisko for their hand in this week’s festivities. They have been nothing if not accommodating these last few weeks while our coordinators ran rampant through their halls.”

He should have accounted for the possibility of this. Thinking of Julian had become excruciating as of late, but that was no excuse. Whatever interaction Julian had been hoping to have with him couldn’t be allowed, not now, and not only for the sake of Garak’s traitorous, disgusting feelings. Even if it would give the sweet man closure, it would not be worth his life. 

“Now, it may be a bit unorthodox, but I thought it would be only fitting if the first Reenactment was carried out by our benevolent hosts, and the Lakarian City Acting Troupe were all too happy to take them under their wing.”

More eyes are turning towards the screen now, the laughing and playing and sloshing of cups quieting down. Julian is nearly with him, his approach halted only by the gathering crowd, and Garak can only pretend to be interested in Dukat’s speech while he racks his brain desperately for a solution. Any solution. Anything.

“I trust that the history of Cardassia is in capable hands.”

The screen flickers again and changes to a shot of one of Quark’s holodecks, where a lone Bajoran man stands in a beam of red light.

A hand grabs Garak roughly by the arm, and he nearly cries with relief when he sees that it’s Lumok.

Well, Lumok with the face and attire of a Bajoran, but that ever-present spark of unchecked malice in her eye is quite unmistakable to someone who worked with her for over a decade. 

“Surprised, you ugly old regnar?” she asks under the actor’s impassioned opening monologue.

He sucks in a breath as the sharp edge of something presses into his back. “Impossible. They found your body caught on one of the station’s spires.”

“A simple bait and switch,” she purrs, pressing the weapon closer, slicing through his tunic. A pity. This was one of his nicer ones. “You’ve gotten sloppy.”

He manufactures a smile. “A knife, then? A favorite of yours, I recall, but terribly messy for such a public venue. Not to mention if your aim is even an inch off, I’ll be in and out of the infirmary within the day, as if nothing at all had happened.”

“Don’t lecture me,” she growls. “You can’t do that anymore. You’re not anyone to anyone. Your master is dead, and what did you do the second you were off leash for the first time in your life? You went and choked yourself on the first Starfleet sotl you could find. You’re pathetic.”

It took incredible effort to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his skull. “Oh, just stab me already.”

“I’m not going to stab you. I’ve done a bit of outsourcing, in fact.” She slid the knife from his lower back to his side and looped her arm through his, pinning him in place with a wide smile. “All I had to do was suggest to my new friend that you were infiltrating the Federation. That you were poisoning them against Bajor from the inside, uniting Cardassia and Starfleet in a secret alliance under the guise of wooing the CMO. No, no, you won’t be killed by one of your peers. Your death will be at the hands of a perfect stranger. A pointless death for a pointless man.” She leans in and whispers into his aural ridge, “It always was so easy to make people hate you.”

The next few seconds are a flurry of chaos. One second he’s watching as Human, Bajoran and Cardassian actors alike are all holding hands and reciting ancient poetry and the next he’s on the floor with a searing weight bearing down on him from calf to shoulder. There are screams and footfalls coming from all directions and Odo’s voice is immediately discernible shouting over the commotion. His back is on fire, he can’t breathe, and there’s a slash in his side, but he doesn’t miss the thump of Lumok’s body a few feet away, dead before she hits the ground.

“Garak? Garak?” the weight on him is speaking frantically, pawing at his head and shoulders. The weight shifts and the hands flip him onto his back. Those same hands pat him down, blazing a path down his chest and his stomach and his sides, stopping at the superficial gash near his rib, and Garak knows who this is before he even opens his eyes.

“Garak,” Julian sighs with relief. Garak was meant to be dead by phaser blast right now, but instead Julian Bashir is smiling down at him like he’s important, kneeling beside him, his hands on him, branding him with their incredible heat. It shouldn’t be possible. No one could be that fast. 

“Doctor,” he manages on a wheeze. One of his ribs might be broken, actually.

“Dukat,” Sisko growls from the monitor in billowing robes and a long flowing wig, surrounded by flowers.

—

“Explain,” Sisko commands.

Having decided that showing weakness right now can only help his case, Garak is sitting hunched to the side, holding his reeling head in one hand. It’s through a hiss that he replies, “A woman named Turora Lumok was responsible for sabotaging the station with those poems forged with my data signature. The Bajoran woman who was just assassinated–she was no Bajoran, but rather one of the last remaining members of the Obsidian Order. She was hired by Dukat to kill me during the festival under the guise of a hate crime. No doubt because of her indomitable reputation, I’m sure. A number of Cardassian casualties these past several days were at her hands.”

Sisko walks to the viewport to stare out into the stars for a moment, processing this. “All his talk of friendship between Bajor and Cardassia…” he trails off, the ghost of a sneer on his lips as he turns back around. “His goal was just the opposite. He wanted to destroy any hope of cooperation.”

“And get me out of the way in the process,” Garak grumbles. 

Sisko hums and wanders over to Garak’s side, looking down at him thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who assassinated Ms. Lumok?”

Garak stares at the floor through his fingers, his eyes glazed.

“Or who your informant is on Dukat’s involvement?”

“Captain,” Garak mutters, not looking up, “I have sat here concussed after an attempt on my life and shared with you everything that I know, and here you have not even told me who the tailor of your magnificent robe is.” He tugs half-heartedly at a strip of embroidery on the fabric. “I must admit, I am feeling a touch betrayed you didn’t come to me.”

Sisko flicks his eyes up to Julian, who has been standing in the corner with his hands behind his back. “Very well, Mr. Garak. I release you into Dr. Bashir’s care for now, but I expect to continue this conversation soon.” He massages his forehead. “Once I figure out what to do about this damned festival.”

Julian comes over to help Garak out of his chair, but Garak snaps upright and to the door before he can touch him. Sisko takes the opportunity to lean into Julian’s face and whisper, “Get more information out of him.” The doctor nods.

Julian isn’t angry when he steps out of Sisko’s office and sees that Garak is walking in the exact opposite direction of the infirmary, but he is disappointed. 

“Mr. Garak,” he says urgently once he’s caught up to the idiot.

Mr. Garak interrupts him in the same tone, “Now, now, my dear doctor, we both know I have a dermal regenerator in my quarters, so we need not extend–”

“And I think we both know this is about much more than a few bumps and bruises. I’m afraid the time for beating around the bush passed quite a while ago.”

“You’re right, Doctor,” Garak says, coming to an abrupt stop and rounding on him with wild eyes. “There is an urgent matter we must discuss.” Julian’s eyebrows raise, and Garak nods severely. “Oh, yes, let us not ‘beat around the bush.’ We should talk about how you threw yourself directly into the line of a lethal phaser blast on the one in a millionth chance that you might save my life. The cost of such an action being almost certainly your own life, and yet, here you stand, and here I stand. Will wonders never cease.” Julian opens his mouth, but Garak raises a finger. “Nevermind that I was in the middle of an altercation with a very dangerous, very volatile woman who would not have hesitated for a second to dispose of you. She had a nasty habit of that. Now I knew that you were naive, Doctor, Doctor! I knew that! What I did not know – what I never could have guessed after all these years – was that you are an idiot.” 

Julian stares back into Garak’s hissing face, unimpressed. Garak feels a wave of deja-vu and does not like it. It has no place here. And yet, Julian takes in a breath and smiles, raising his shoulders. “All right, Garak. If it’s really so important to you, we can talk about your suicide attempt.”

“What?” Garak bites out.

“You were going to let yourself get shot, yes?”

“I was n–” Garak starts to lie, disgusted, but is stopped by Julian stepping entirely too close. He stumbles back a step, then another when Julian attempts to crowd him again, and the familiarity of the routine has him shutting his eyes, rueful. They’re dancing again. It’s humiliating, the things this man makes him do, how effortlessly he can gain the upperhand. Most of the time without even having to lift a finger.

“You figured out Dukat’s plan and arranged for Lumok to die if she succeeded, but you expected her to. You didn’t expect to be saved,” the doctor tells his blank, unresponsive face. His eyes are still closed, his hands tense at his sides, but he knows Julian’s stepped closer again by the heat of his livid breath. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Very well. I didn’t figure it out. I was informed.”

“So, the captain was right.” He sounds bored, but Garak seizes his chance. His eyes open in a sudden burst of animation.

“Yes, I had an informant. I believe the major was familiar with him, a fellow by the name of Damoc who was recently presumed dead? Though I knew him far better as Mebol. We first met on Romulus, you see. In the event of my death, he had strict instructions to reveal Dukat’s plot in my stead and protect my remaining assets. In return, he was to receive some valuable coordinates, which by now he will have long accessed. I suppose he’s already booked passage off of the station, if he hasn’t already gone.” 

“Quick to abandon you,” Julian says, completely off-script. Garak’s carefully measured breathing stutters.

“Surely Captain Sisko would like to have a word with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Doctor…” Garak says, lost. “There isn’t time to was–”

Suddenly there are two hands slamming into his chest like they’re iron forks and he’s a slab of meat, rocketing him back into the nearest wall with a loud thud. Garak gasps at the strength of it, astounded, but all his attention is quickly monopolized by Julian’s snarling words.

“Stop trying to distract me, Garak! Stop racing away before I can even properly get into the room, stop begging off lunch, stop ignoring my comms, and stop acting like your bloody life is over just because it was found out that you have feelings for me!” 

“I–I don’t–”

“Lke hell you don’t! Thirty-seven.”

Garak blinks several times. “What?”

“Thirty-seven. That’s how many direct references to our literary discussions are in your poems. All chronologically concordant with the dates of those discussions, and six of which from that classic Earth album I recommended to you a year ago that you swore up and down sounded like a pack of voles had been crammed into a bucket and shaken around. I knew you were having me on. You love Mitski, and you love me.”

Garak’s face shutters. 

Finally, Julian takes a step back. His hands remain on his chest, pinning him in place, but he allows him some oxygen. Exactly twenty seconds pass like this, before the doctor becomes impatient and huffs, “You can’t possibly have nothing to say.”

“What would you have me say, Doctor?”

“I would like you to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve heard it from friends and coworkers and strangers and every tourist on this damn station, it feels like, but I haven’t heard it from you.”

Garak is silent for a long time. Finally, he quietly asks, “You would further humiliate me this way? Knowing what you do? My dear friend…” He, carefully, with only the gentlest of pressure, puts a hand over one of Julian’s. “Please. You’ve read everything I could possibly have to say. What more could there be?”

Julian’s hands are unforgiving, but his eyes soften at the simple lowering of the curtain. It’s not the direct confession he was looking for, the I love you completely, traitorously, ruinously that his poems professed and a deep, broken part of Julian desperately wants to hear, but it is, it is. For Garak, this is as explicit as it gets, and Julian can feel his heart trying to catch in his throat.

“Garak,” he starts to say.

Garak isn’t scowling anymore. His eyes are shining as he looks away and sucks in an aggrieved breath. “Oh, please, let us skip this excruciating precursor. I have no intention of remaining on this station.”

Julian goes unnervingly still. “Excuse me?”

“I will need time to pack up my shop and settle my lease, but then I promise, you will never suffer the consequences of my unfortunate… condition again.” When Julian only stares at him with mounting alarm in his lovely eyes, Garak grimaces. “You must know I had no intention of pursuing you.” At least, not after the implant had been shut off and he’d realized what horrors he’d stumbled into with the doctor while under its influence, and by then, it was already too late. He was too weak to stop speaking to him, but he was not a complete monster. “I wouldn’t have. My writing was never about nurturing the emotions, only managing them.” A bit of a lie, but only a bit. He does love to languish and he never could resist a good innuendo. Their friendship had been infinitely precious to him, though, and he couldn’t bear the slow death it would undergo now that everyone knew the truth.

The worsening rumors that would spread. The suffering of Julian’s reputation, career, and love life with the Cardassian spy’s drastic affections hanging over everyone’s heads. The danger it would place them both in, the damage it had already done. The way Julian would know every time Garak flirted now, it was never idle. It had never been and could never be. 

It would be a torture hitherto unthinkable. Better to sever the limb before it could rot.

Still, Julian is silent. The pressure on his chest is more a suggestion than a command now.

“Doctor, I…” he swallows back anymore hideous truths. “I apologize. Your rage is understandable, but I swear to you, I have every intention of righting this wrong.”

“Oh,” Julian says then, softly, as if he isn’t speaking to Garak at all,  “you don’t know.”

“Doctor?”

He makes a bizarre human gesture, skimming the heel of his hand off his forehead. “My God! Of course. I thought it was pride, or shame, or paranoia. Anything and everything but this, but of course you would be this ridiculous. Well. That’s an easy enough problem to solve.”

“Doctor–?!”

The hands on his chest are gone. Instead, they’re seizing him by the head and pulling him up to connect his mouth to Julian’s.

Oh.

If Julian’s touch was a brand before, this is lava running down his throat, into his stomach and down, down, down to eat through the twenty inch thick duranium floor. Slow, thorough, and final in its devastation. A transformation that cannot be persuaded. He grapples with it, hands scrambling stupidly over and across his doctor’s shoulders. Whether it’s to pull him closer or push him away, he doesn’t know. He’s too busy being brutally altered to give it much thought.

His hands settle for burying themselves in his hair at some point. When doesn’t matter. Time holds no power here. It happens, and then he knows how soft Julian Bashir’s hair feels, and there is no going back.

The loss of control becomes alarming enough that he finally manages to pry himself away, gulping in desperate, anxious breaths of frigid station air. It works. The fire and the madness that followed it calms down and he manages the strength to push Julian back, but the wet smack of their lips disconnecting will echo in his dreams for the foreseeable future, as will the dizzy grin on Julian’s face inches from his own. There’s a hand on his ass keeping him from tumbling through the hole in the floor and a couple unlucky passersby gawking at the gruesome scene and Garak is a different creature entirely, incandescent and strange, forged anew in the curious fires of mutual attachment. 

He feels insane.

“Doctor, you cannot truly be this naive.” 

Julian looks anything but naive right then. He can’t focus on that, though. He needs to focus on the fact he was nearly assassinated; the fact that the kindest man alive nearly died with him out of some misguided terran idea that all lives are of equal value and importance.

And yet, Julian is leaning in to kiss him again, so Garak puts a hand on his chest and says, “You know what I am.”

Julian’s expression turns complicated and it’s clear he understands. Garak’s roiling emotions can’t settle on being relieved or horrified. How to go on after this? After knowing intimately what he almost had, with the smoke of it still thick in his eyes and his throat and his heart?

A gentle hand on his jaw brings him back to the moment, where Julian’s eyes are serious. “I know,” he murmurs.

Garak sucks in a wet breath.

“The question is,” Julian continues, even quieter, “do you know what I am?”

His head is spinning. “Doctor?”

Julian just smiles sadly, and it's clear that there are some long conversations in their future. But for now… “About that dermal regenerator in your quarters,” Julian begins, and Garak is relieved to find out that whatever stupid, lovely thing he’s become can still appreciate an innuendo.

—

Not long after, in the middle of telling Sisko all about Mebol over Julian’s comm badge while its owner watches expectantly in a state of teasing half-dress, he’s horrified to find that whatever thing he’s become is also rather eager to please.

—

A couple days later, the two of them are picking from a generous cut of flaming taspar in the Replimat.

Or, Garak is picking, anyway. Julian is stuffing his face. Ordinarily, this would mildly scandalize him, but the fact it’s taspar, one of the most traditional delicacies of his homeworld, being shoveled enthusiastically into that pretty face makes it so he can feel only hope.

Rather than giving into that inadvisable feeling, he takes a dainty sip of his tea and tries to look nonsuspect. Cardassians from all sides and angles are staring.

“About Miss Leeta…” Garak begins.

Julian wipes his face with the side of his hand. Disgusting, but oddly compelling. “What about her?” 

“When will you be breaking the news to her?”

“Oh.” Julian smiles, bemused. “She knows.”

A tightness in his chest dispels slightly. “Does she?” he says faintly.

“She’s the one who first brought it up. We performed the Rite of Separation days ago. She said it was great timing, what with the festival and all. We didn’t even have to leave the station.”

“So you were together then.”

“Well, in a sense. We weren’t in love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Garak takes another sip, lowering his eyes. “I wasn’t worried. Only concerned for the young lady’s feelings.”

Julian’s face is incandescent. A Cardassian to his far left is openly gaping. “Of course, of course.” He leans suddenly over the table then, moving a hand forward to rest on his knee. “So, should I take this line of questioning as an indicator that you’re open to a relationship with me?”

Garak shifts a little in his seat, moving his knee further under the table and its shadows, but otherwise doesn’t pull away. “It would be unwise,” he says quietly, without actually saying no.

The hand squeezes. “It isn’t as if people won’t assume anyway.”

“Rumors can be dispelled. Redirected. Altered.” He reaches forward to take a small saucière and pours a bright red sauce over a couple groatcakes. “There would be no coming back from a confirmation.”

Julian’s hand falls away. “Would it be so bad?”

“I don’t know,” Garak says, splitting a cake up into three neat sections. “Would it, Doctor?”

A Bajoran couple walks past their table then, and while one purposely avoids eye contact and seems to be giving them a wide berth, the other throws a meaningful glare Julian’s way. This is the fourth judgemental or pitying look he’s received since they came in for brunch. Julian calmly returns the look, refusing to be the first to look away, until finally the man averts his eyes and Julian looks back to Garak with a stern smile. Garak inclines his head.

“Be careful, Doctor,” Garak goes on. “Rumors can ruin lives. End careers.” He scoops up a bite of his cake, dripping with red sauce, and lifts it to his mouth. “Kill,” he finishes, and eats.

At that, Julian leans back in his seat with his arms crossed tight. Garak gives him his time. It’s a relief to have finally made a dent in Julian’s lovesick, idealistic conviction–and Garak can admit, after the last few days, that it is lovesickness. Julian’s decided he loves him back and there will be no stopping him from pursuing this, but there may yet be some tempering. A small, equally stubborn, sentimental part of Garak despairs at the whole horrid affair, but the behemoth of his good sense squashes this part down with little difficulty. 

It’s this moment that a smattering of young Cardassians, accompanied by one Jadzia Dax, arrive at their table. Immediately, Garak recognizes them as the ones that nearly intercepted his meeting with Lumok and his stomach drops. Julian, on the other hand, brightens back up.

“Well, hello there,” he says warmly.

Jadzia responds first, with each elbow leaned on a Cardassian’s shoulder and a knowing sparkle in her blue eyes, “Hello to you.” The Cardassians all echo with similar greetings, some shy, others giddy.

One young woman standing at the front, with her hair in three elaborately plaited braids and little makeup, is looking at Garak with particular interest. “You’re the one who wrote the poems about Julian.”

Garak looks at the girl coolly. “Do you mean Dr. Bashir?”

She goes blue. “Oh, um. Yes. I do.” She tucks an imaginary lock of hair into her perfectly coiffed hair and lowers her head respectfully. “My apologies, Doctor.”

“Hey now,” the doctor scolds with good humor, “none of that. We’re all friends here.” 

The girl throws another searching glance Garak’s way. “Friends?”

That’s enough of that. “This is certainly quite the surprise,” Garak says genially, plastering on his most pleasant smile. “Is there something you needed? As Deep Space Nine’s resident Cardassian tailor and reputed troubadour, I’m always happy to be of service.” Julian sends him a sharp look, which he ignores. 

Jadzia is looking as foxy as she ever does, with a grin nearly to her spotted ears. “Julian asked me to bring them here,” she says too happily, and Garak has to sit back in his seat to process that. Julian scratches his neck with a guilty smile, obliviously alluring. It cannot be overstated that there are, still, eyes on them from all directions and angles.

“Garak, sir,” the Cardassian woman-child begins again, earnest, “let me start over. My name is Inia Milam. I am the President of the Ivory State Liberation Library. We collect–”

“Madam,” Garak interrupts her quietly, stunned. “This is hardly the time and place.” He blinks, still shocked stupid by her brazenness, and leans towards her, peering into her distressingly young features with beseeching desperation. “And I am hardly the audience.”

Milam doesn’t appear to process his warning at all, though. She just continues to look inquisitive. She has that gleam in her eyes that is common in Cardassian women, calculating and intelligent, but there’s something else there. Something indefinable that he’s seen hundreds of times over an interrogation table, but without the fear to staunch it. Without the hopelessness. It makes his stomach flip. “On the contrary, you are exactly the sort of person we look for.” She bows her head. “Dr. Bashir promised that if we assisted him a few days prior, he would introduce us so that I could formally welcome your book of poems into our shelves. I apologize if this comes as a surprise. I wish only to thank you for your excellent contribution, E. G., and tell you that we hope to welcome many more pieces from you in the future. I’ll be in touch. Dr. Bashir.” She nods to him, returns his gentle smile, and walks confidently away. The rest of the group mirror her, voicing similar words of polite farewell and appreciation, and leave.

Garak forces himself not to track their departure and instead picks up his fork again, as if nothing world-shattering has occurred at all. The cake is tasteless in his mouth.

Julian is concealing nothing of his thoughts, however. He’s staring openly at Garak, as if he’s a bomb and he’s trying to figure out which color wire to cut.

Ultimately, it’s Jadzia that breaks the tension. “Well,” she says, “that is some harem you’ve got there, Julian.”

“Jadzia,” Julian barks. She laughs.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing.” Uncharacteristically, her impish smile turns regretful. “Now that that’s out of the way, I do have to bring your friend in for questioning,” she says, and that explains that. “I’m sorry, boys. I stalled Ben as long as I could.”

Garak polishes off the last of his meal and takes one last gulp of his tea to wash it down. With that done, he stands with a placid, conciliatory smile.

Julian puts a hand on his shoulder before he can take a step. “I’ll come see you after my shift.” Those lovely, dark, deep eyes search his, pinning him like a moth above his fireplace. “Okay?”

Garak inhales. “Without end,” he murmurs, waits for Julian’s eyes to light in understanding, and then aloud says, “I am at your disposal, Doctor. Good day.” With that and a firm, friendly pat on Julian’s hand, he limps away.

Jadzia rather pointedly watches him limp to the exit for a few long seconds before throwing Julian a rakish grin. “Well, well,” she says largely. Julian pretends not to notice, and Jadzia pivots on her heel after Garak.

“Before we lock you up and throw away the key, could you sign my datarod,” Julian hears Jadzia asking, and he shakes his head, unsuccessfully trying to rub away his smile.

Without end Do I think of you and so Come to me at night. For on the path of dreams at least, There's no one to disapprove! Ono no Komachi

[anim-ttrpgs]

Cover your eyes! Announcing the Gorgon Initiative for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

(promotional art by @theblackwarden, one of our team artists)

Okay so, we had a bunch of stretch goals in the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Kickstarter, and we actually did hit more of them than expected, but there was one of them we didn’t hit, the playable gorgon.

The gorgon being a playable monster type was stuck at the very back of the stretch goal list, mainly because we thought of it way later than all the other stretch goals, but honestly it was one of the possibilities that I was most excited for, and apparently, so were a whole lot of our fans. The gorgon monster type would perfectly round out Eureka’s roster of playable supernatural creatures, and we would really like to make it happen, despite not really having the budget for it since we didn’t hit the stretch goal.

Here are a few of what the gorgon’s key features would have been:

>Anyone who makes direct eye-contact with the gorgon turns to stone.

>A venomous bite, making them gorgon the second playable monster type to be able to inflict a poison effect.

>Cold-blooded. Won’t feel great in low temperature environments, but won’t show up on thermal sensors either.

>Scaly skin.

>Snake hair optional.

>Claws.

>Eating people like a snake.

And all this wrapped up in Eureka’s unique humanity-focused approach to monsters. How will your PC cope with their power to instantly kill anyone who looks at them wrong, whether they want to or not? That’s the kind of character development you can look forward to with a gorgon in the party.

So here is what we are going to do to make it happen despite the budget not accounting for it. It’s going to be a patreon initiative.

(promotional art by @qsycomplainsalot, one of our team artists)

If we can get up to 50 total paid patreon subscribers by the end of June, we will put the gorgon in the game. Currently, we have 33, so if y'all can manage to make that climb to 50 by July 1st, we will promise to make time and budget to add the gorgon in to the rulebook before final release. Ultimately, even 20-ish more patreon subscribers is less money than the stretch goal would have been, but we feel that it would be a good enough addition to the game to justify, especially because it's what the fans want, and because long-term patreon support is very valuable. You get regular Eureka rulebook PDFs as a part of the patreon, and even though there is also a free demo, the more more-updates copies or Eureka floating around, the better. We want people actually playing this game, and playing better and better versions of it. We’d release it all for free if we didn’t need the money to “earn a living.”

Supporting us on patreon isn’t pure charity either. At the $3 tier, you get access to our patreon discord server where our team discusses development of the game and gets feedback from fans, as well in a vote on which projects we tackle next.

At the $5 tier and beyond, you get that, plus regular PDFs of the most current and up-to-date version of our projects. In addition to a version of the Eureka rulebook with many more features than the current free version, there’s stuff you currently can’t get anywhere else, like Eureka adventure modules, short stories, and even a novella, all unreleased anywhere else.

So, sign up to our patreon, it’s only a few dollars a month, and help out with the gorgon initiative. At the time of writing this, we have 33/50 paid subscribers, and I’ll update the goal as we go.

And below the cut, I’ll show you the current changelog for the Eureka rulebook, so you can see what all $5+ patreon subscribers are going to get in the next big patreon update coming Thursday, June 6th. This changelog isn’t even fully conclusive, as work will continue on the rulebook throughout the week to make it even better before Thursday. That's a whole lot for just $5! I will also post the rough notes that exist for the gorgon mechanics as they appear right now.

(A new version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy will be coming to $5+ patreon subscribers on the first Thursday of the month every month until final release, and after that you'll start getting the beta versions of whatever our next project turns out to be.)

CHANGELOG

CHAPTER 1

Have started working on replacing the examples of play with updated ones that actually fit the current and slightly more stable version of the rules. These will be found in various chapters. You can see them in the table of contents.

Added a Foreword, a section on other media to offer you inspiration when playing eureka, and a section on some of the subtler themes of eureka

Copy-edited Foreword

A few minor clarifications in the Making Rolls section

Added a chart explaining the percentage chances of failures, partial successes, and full successes for modifiers from -7 to +7. 

Added Heat optional rule. A whole new set of mechanics for tracking how much police attention the investigators may be drawing, as well as how law enforcement will respond. Currently a work-in-progress, but mostly functional already.

CHAPTER 2

Added the Forgery skill to write-in skills

Many new snoops have been added. 

Removed the “Seating” stat for vehicles, you know how many people can safely fit in a car

Removed the placeholder boat entries from the item list because we did not hit that kickstarter stretch goal

Added Skateboard to item list. 

Added four-wheeler to item list. 

Added Acceleration values to all vehicles in the vehicle list. Acceleration is a new stat used with the new way that Speed is calculated for Chases.

Adjusted the Driving bonus of motorcycles and dirtbikes.

Changed Large Mansion cost to 25 Wealth Points in character creation.

Started copy-editing this chapter.

CHAPTER 3

Added vehicle crashes to irregular forms of damage section

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Completely revamped the way that Speed is calculated. 

Added a mechanic to determine how many nodes ahead a fleeing character starts.

Added an optional rule for bringing an end to chases 

Added vehicle attack rules for use during car chases

Added more guidelines for how to make your own obstacles

Added recommended numbers of nodes for chases and recommended distance between obstacles 

Added the work-in-progress random obstacle tables

On-Foot Urban Chase Obstacles table is finished but not edited

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

Increased capacity of an unfurled thing from beyond’s ‘stomach’ from three to fourteen.

Thing from beyond can now more easily attempt to engulf more victims after already containing one or more. This now prompts an escape attempt by victims inside rather than automatic escape.

Thing from beyond can now get a bonus to mimicry attempts by consuming a sample of the intended mimicry target’s DNA. 

Thing from beyond can now attempt to mimic a person they have never seen or heard by consuming a sample of their DNA, but narrator makes a hidden roll about it, so accuracy of mimicry will be unknown.

Gave acceleration value to witch’s brooms and other flying transportation

Gave Acceleration of +6 to Superhuman Speed trait

Gave vampire small bat manifestation +2 Acceleration

Gave vampire wolf manifestation +4 Acceleration 

Gave vampire massive bat beast manifestation +4 Acceleration

Gave wolfman wolf form +4 Acceleration

Gave lycanthrope wolf form +4 Acceleration

Added ability to resist curses to fairy and witch

Added ability for fairy to transfer curses to different names as a means of protecting themselves from curses. This gives them more of an incentive to collect names. 

Added a tiny bit about the fairy world

Added Monsters Eating Monsters section to provide rulings for some edge cases where monsters might eat other monsters and what would happen if they did

ROUGH GORGON DESIGN NOTES

[Notes: Turn people to stone by looking them in the eye. Definitely not a power that the Gorgon can turn on and off, they will have to cover their eyes somehow, such as dark sunglasses or a veil, to prevent it happening to everyone they make eye contact with. Also works the other way around so you could protect yourself by wearing dark sunglasses. Still works even if the Gorgon is dead, like in the legends. Does not work through cameras, reflections, images, etc. Turning to stone is permanent, basically instant kill? Works like the witch curse except with infinite duration unless a witch undoes it like a curse. If there is no eye protection, could be a reflex roll on the gorgon’s part or on an aware victim’s part to break eye-contact quickly enough for the curse not to take effect. Also, they could have some kind of bonus to Threaten because all the legends say that they look particularly frightening.

Have claws and maybe scaly skin or scales in patches, maybe snake-like eyes and snake tongue that can taste air? Sharp teeth and maybe venomous snake fangs? People will really really want their gorgons to have snake hair even though in the legends, it was only Medusa herself that had snake hair. Compromise by making it an optional rule agreed upon by narrator and player that they have snake hair. Snakes may have venomous bite attack but the trade off is that it makes it way harder to conceal the gorgon’s identity as a Gorgon.

Gorgons do not regain composure points from turning people to stone, all other monsters regain composure points by *consuming* their victims in some way, except for fairies who regain composure from playing mean pranks because it makes them happy. Keeping with the rule of monsters eating people and also the fact that the legends always describe gorgons as having snake-like trait, maybe they swallow victims whole like a snake? Great horror concept but takes a long time. Could mechanically work very very similar to thing from beyond’s composure restoration where they gain 1 composure point each day for however many days. Could advise loose and bulky clothing to cover this up. Cannot really decide how to codify this because the most obvious way would make it pretty impossible to hide for a very long time. Could probably make multiple optional rules that regain composure at different rates and digest victims at different rates. One option that gets a lot more composure over time from a single victim like the thing from beyond but is very conspicuous that entire time. Other option that digests the whole victim extremely fast so they are only conspicious for a short time but ultimately less composure from a single kill. No option to regain composure from victim without killing them, like thing from beyond. No composure restoration from normal food but can eat it to stay alive, like the thing from beyond?

Do they have proper weaknesses besides just the normal things that everybody is weak to, like sharp objects? Probably should not have the Unkillable trait, but need to come up with at least one weakness that does not stray too far from the legends. Maybe they are cold-blooded, following the snake theme? Makes them very vulnerable to cold temperatures, and jackets and blankets don’t help because they don’t produce their own body heat. Big Physical skill penalties when they are in cold environments?

What is their second mandatory monster trait? They don’t *need* one but every other monster has their powers split across two monster traits.] 

Actually it would be pretty good if they had to make a Monster(fear) Composure check if they saw their face in the mirror

Their blood is either healing or poisonous depending on if it is from the left or right side. left side kills, right side heals. Make it  veinous vs arterial blood.....  But this would have no effect on vampires 

We have GOT to get the gorgon in if we have time, it’s such a good idea

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gentle Care - Jade

Author Notes: So, this is another fanfic that has been sitting, collecting dust in my Google Docs for quite some time now. It is finally getting to see the light of day because I wanted to post a Jade fic (totally not because of any cards that recently came out on the Japanese server). I didn't really listen to anything specific while writing this, so I really can't say there is any specific inspiration for this fic either. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ flirtation/ romance implied/ fluff

Word Count: 1393

When Azul had called to ask for your assistance in patching someone up, you hadn’t been surprised. 

First, you’d gotten very good at handling bandages and whatnot simply due to your numerous Overblot experiences. You always ended up with a myriad of bumps and scrapes after those.

Secondly, Floyd getting into a fight was hardly uncommon, so the idea of him being a little scraped up was hardly startling. 

Finally, Floyd was perpetually mercurial, and if he’d even implied that he’d sit still and let you bandage him without squirming around, then Azul would do what it took to get you to Octavinelle just to ensure Floyd didn’t cause him any more of a headache.

An added bonus was that Octavinelle had all the supplies you could ever dream of, so there wasn’t even any need for you to bring anything with you. In fact, Grim even stayed at Ramshackle, opting not to join you on your little jaunt to Octavinelle. Though he did make sure to put in a request that you bring home some food for him that had you rolling your eyes slightly as you slipped out the door.

Your only real concerns on the trip to the mirror chamber were whether or not the other person had survived the altercation and how exactly you were going to scold the injured eel, even though you knew perfectly well that your words would do little good to keep him from getting into yet another fight. 

Those thoughts vanished though when you stepped into the Mostro Lounge and found yourself greeted with an unexpected sight.

Jade, sitting there as calmly as ever despite the bruises and red scratch marks that were sprinkled across his person as he talked to his brother, who was currently crouched in front of him, “Yes, it seems they mistook me for you, Floyd. Handling them was an easy matter, but-”

Jade halted mid-sentence as he spotted you, his eyes widening briefly before his usual, carefully crafted smile appeared, “I wasn’t expecting you quite yet, Y/n. I do hope you didn't rush.”

It was those oh-so polite words that immediately sparked your ire, sending you striding forward and snatching the bandages off a nearby table as you did so. After all, that long red scratch on his arm looked particularly nasty.

“Do I want to know?” Your irritation was obvious to everyone present, but no one seemed terribly concerned. But, to be fair, you were already kneeling and inspecting the young man’s injuries.

Azul let out a sigh, stepping into the room and holding a stack of papers, “It seems that a group of juniors looking for a fight mistook Jade for Floyd.”

“It’s alright though, Shrimpy. Jade handled ‘em all perfectly well.” Despite Floyd’s reassurance, you were hardly pleased. Eying the tell-tale burn that affirmed that magic had indeed been used in the fight despite school rules.

You glanced up, immediately making eye contact with the injured young man who’d been sitting silently, with a slight smile on his face as he’d watched you this entire time. Almost as if he were gauging the situation before he said anything.

“So you got in a fight you could’ve avoided?” Your flat tone said everything, and Azul took it as a cue to leave. With a single motion, he signaled Floyd, and the two exited the space. Floyd linger long enough to cast a single glance that flickered between you and his brother over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Jade met your accusation with an easy calmness and no small degree of amusement, “I wouldn’t be so sure. That group seemed to have quite a bit of aggression towards my dorm and probably didn’t really care if it was me or Floyd.”

You remained silent as he continued, going about bandaging some of the worse scratches while he calmly spread burn cream on his arm, “And even if I had made them aware of my identity and they’d left, it would’ve simply meant my dear brother would be in my current position, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

You pressed a band-aid down with a bit more pressure than strictly necessary as your eyes found his, “Don’t play coy with me, Jade. You wanted to get in that fight.”

You had to curb your urge to roll your eyes at the innocent expression he gave you before you continued, “You’re far too smug to have not gotten your way.”

With those words, you stood, grabbing another band-aid and turning your attention to the scratch marks that were scattered across his face, “So who were they?”

He smiled, his sharp teeth flashing as he did so, “Three of them were beastmen. I personally thought the Diasomna fellow was stronger, though. But don’t worry, all of them are in far worse shape than me.”

You snorted in response to his all too smug response, your amused tone not matching your chiding words, “Don’t gloat.”

Despite yourself, you were smiling even as Jade spoke again, his tone getting gradually more amused, “It works for Floyd.”

Your gaze flickered over to his, your hands carefully placing the band-aid on his cheek as you frowned at him, “No, it doesn’t, and it won’t for you either. I treat you two the same way.”

You gently smoothed the too-tan fabric across his pale cheek, and he chuckled, “Surely you know better than to lie to me, my dear.”

Your movements stilled as his hand reached up and wrapped around one of yours, his gaze holding yours captive as he smiled like he’d won some sort of game, “You and I both know you treat me far differently than how you treat my brother.”

You tugged at your hand gently, and Jade let it go with ease even as his fingers carefully brushed the skin on his cheek where your hand had just been with a distinctly pleased expression, “Your gentle care for me proves it.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head slightly as you frowned down at him, “Don’t tease. I might be helping you right now, but I will leave.”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to a feigned mask of betrayed hurt, “And abandon me to the care of Azul and Floyd? You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

You rolled your eyes slightly at his dramatics but reached over and grabbed another band-aid, “I might. You never know when I’ll surprise you.”

A smile curved across his face as his gaze stayed locked on you even as you focused on one of the other scratches on his otherwise pristine skin, “Indeed, I never do….”

You hummed slightly as he trailed off, “Right, so you’d best watch it and not get hurt like this again. I might not take care of you next time.”

“Wouldn’t that mean playing favorites since you’ve kept on helping every time Floyd gets himself hurt?” He didn’t miss a beat, and you frowned at him, causing him to chuckle, “I won’t make any promises. I rather enjoy getting taken care of, you know.” 

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder in a faux slap, “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” You paused, turning to look over your shoulder as you called out to Azul and Floyd that you were done.

Jade tilted his head as you looked back his way, his smile still present as he looked up at you where you stood between his spraddled out legs from his seated position, “Leaving so soon? Floyd made dinner.”

You snorted lightly, shaking your head at his coaxing tone even as Floyd stepped out of the kitchen, “You staying for dinner, Shrimpy?”

You held Jade’s gaze as you felt a smile spread across your face, and, despite yourself, there was very little hesitation as you called back, “Sure! Sounds good!”

And once again, Jade’s smile was all too smug, but at this point that was nothing new. Especially since you knew perfectly well that if he, or Azul, or Floyd, got hurt again, you’d be back to take care of them once again, even though all of you knew it was hardly necessary.

And that was even taking into account that you did play favorites. But you weren’t about to admit that to Jade, and, judging from the smile on his face, he already knew anyway.

[a-aexotic]

could you do a rafe imagine where reader is a pouge and she’s working at the country club as a server or as a bust gal and kelce says something about her but rafe secretly likes the reader and he defends her and gets pissed at his friends for talking bad about her or saying something degrading or ojectifyinfg about her and then the reader finds out rafe defended her from topper ?? Bc topper is secretly kind (apart from the fire tbh) and reader confronts rafe about why he defended her

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. sooo much fluff, degrading language towards women, a fight (kinda), out of character top/rafe, lmk if i missed anything!

summary. rafe has a crush on you and topper makes it his top priority to get you two together after you confess your feelings, too.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

You were exhausted at this time of day and you just wanted to go home and rest. Your eyes were heavy and your feet hurt from these stupid heels the club makes you wear. You had one last table before you could clock out; you could already feel the warm bath you were going to draw tonight.

Until you saw who you were serving; Kook royalty themselves. Rafe, Topper, Kelce and a few guys you don't recall the names of. You prepared yourself for the longest hour serving these boys.

You walked up to them, a big smile on your lips. If you were going to serve some snotty Kooks you might as well get a good tip. "Hey, um. I'm Y/N, and I'm your waiter for tonight. Can I get you started with any drinks?"

You handed out the menus and you could already feel their stares at your body and face, making you feel a tiny bit self conscious. In the corner of your eye you saw Kelce turn to one of the boys to whisper something and he immediately turned red before letting out a chuckle.

You saw Topper and Rafe make eye contact before Rafe rolled his eyes, making Topper sigh.

"Sure, for me, I don't know about the others though." Topper nodded politely as you smiled.

"Yeah, I'm super thirsty." One of the boys had commented as the whole table (minus Topper and Rafe) erupted in laughter. You were disgusted and honestly disappointed, I mean, how low could these jerks get?

Rafe cleared his throat and the whole table became quiet once again. "Me and Top are going to get some Old-Fashion's. I don't know about the others."

"Make that three more." Kelce added and you nodded politely, jotting it down quickly on the notepad.

"Okay, I will be right back with your drinks. Take a look at the menus, alright?" You walked away with another big smile and as you turned, it immediately dropped.

You didn't necessarily hate Kooks; well, not to the extent of JJ or Pope. You could honestly stand them; sure, they made you uncomfortably sometimes but at least at the end of it, you have a good tip.

"Take a look at those menus, more like take a look at that ass!" The boy had said and Kelce and other one let out another laugh. Rafe couldn't stand it.

The jokes weren't funny and were low blows, they were some of the worst jokes he'd heard in months. It was stupid. Rafe held in all his anger because he didn't want to cause a scene, especially here or in front of you.

He's been trying to make a move on you for months; giving extra tips, complimenting you, asking if you could help with the golf cart. And now all his hard was going down the drain because you're going to think he's shallow and idiotic because of his 'friends.'

The only person he actually liked right now was Topper and that's saying a lot. He felt bad for you as well. Rafe didn't really feel empathetic towards anyone but seeing you put on a fake smile and nod off the joke like it was nothing reminded him of someone.

"God what I would do to take her to bed." One of the boys sighed as the others agreed. Rafe bit his tongue as they continued.

"I'm sure she would," Kelce took a drink of his water. "If you tipped her enough."

"You're right, she's a Pogue. I'm sure she needs the money."

Rafe was disgusted. Is this really what they thought about? "Shut the fuck up, dude. That's not funny."

The table went quiet as the guy turned to Rafe. "What the fuck is your problem man, you've been in a bitch mood ever since we came in here. I mean, come on, it's a fucking joke."

"A joke? You call that a fucking joke?" Rafe started raising his voice. "You're the fucking joke here, dude. Who the fuck says that shit? Especially while she's literally over there."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, have some decency. Y/N's actually so sweet."

The two boys looked at each other before laughing. "Oh I see what's goin on here. You two are acting like you're all above this, above us, so she can see how gentleman-ly you are and let you tag team her, huh?"

"Not everything is about sex, dude. Maybe we actually think she's nice and a human being that deserves a little respect. She's, y'know, a living breathing human with thoughts in case you've forgot." Rafe was seeing red and he was about to throw a punch before Topper kicked his leg.

"What, dude? It's true." Rafe looked at Topper before he sighed.

"Let's just finish the drinks and then we can go, alright?" Topper was trying to calm things down and Rafe took a deep breath before nodding.

You had come back with all the drinks on a platter. You felt the shift in energy, it was a lot more tense now than it was. "Alright, have you guys figured out what you guys wanted to eat?"

You passed out the drinks.

"That would be it, can you uh, get the check please?" Rafe's voice was much softer and politer than usual and you nodded. You appreciated the manners; you don't see a lot of that in the country club.

"Okay, sure. I will be right back with the check." You smiled at him and his cheeks turned a little red as he turned away. Topper noticed this and was a little confused.

Rafe had never mentioned liking you in anyway. He was now wondering if he had just started liking you or if this was something that's been happening for a while now.

"Okay, Kelce, how much would you pay me if I went up to her and asked her out on a date?"

"Nothing, dude. You'll be getting the award, why would I have to pay?" Kelce responded, drinking a little of his drink.

Rafe flared his nostrils as he kept in his anger once again. He didn't want to blow up again, people were already staring.

"Dude, you won't do it." The other guy laughed. "You're a fuckin pussy."

"There's no way she'll say yes." Kelce added.

The other guy rolled his eyes, "How much do you wanna bet?"

Kelce laughed, "100$ easy, dude."

He laughed, "Okay, I'll be a 100$ richer."

"You're definitely going to lose that 100, man."

You came back and put the check down with a small smile. "Is that all boys?"

"Yes." Rafe quickly said, taking the check and putting his card in. The others exchanged looks. Before you could away, the boy had started to say something.

"Y/N, right?" He looked at your nametag then to your low V-cut shirt before looking back at your face. "I was wondering if you could let me take you out later this week, maybe... Saturday? I'm havin a big party, I'd just love for you to come."

Rafe was angry he felt like his eyes were going to bulge out of his eyelids as he stared daggers at the guy.

You stood there, a bit shocked. There were a few seconds before you could respond. "I would love to. But uh, I'm already dating someone."

"Really?" Topper looked confused, you'd never mentioned one. You glared down at him before smiling and nodding. Rafe felt like his world had come crashing down. You had a boyfriend?

"Yup, JJ. Two months!" You said dramatically. "Sorry... About that."

The guy looked pissed, turning away from you. "You weren't even that pretty anyway." He muttered.

Your eyes widened and immediately took that as your que to leave, walking away. "Okay.."

Rafe quickly got up after you, taking out his wallet and taking out a 20$, handing it to you.

Your eyes had widened at how much he was tipping. "Whoa, are you sure?"

"Very. My friends were douches to you and I apologize. I don't even know the other two dudes' names."

You laughed, the first real genuine laugh you've had all day. It was a like breathe of fresh air. "Me neither, but I can't take this, that's so much." You pushed away the money.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can." He put it in the pocket in your shirt before sighing. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

He walked away to the rest of his friends and you smiled at the nice gesture. Rafe, despite the opinion of your friends, was actually kinda sweet. I mean, he was sure as hell better than the rest of his friends (minus Topper).

"Dude, that took you long enough." You heard one of them groan.

"Shut up." You heard Rafe reply as you smiled to yourself. You immediately shook away the smile, sighing. Why was the Kook prince making you smile? Wow, you were in desperate need of a bath and a good meal, 8 hour shifts aren't your strong suit.

--

You were surprised and confused at Topper's words.

"Yeah, he was like, genuinely pissed. I've never seen him that mad and that's saying a lot."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, "Wait, wait. So he defended me?"

Topper looked at you like it was the most obvious thing of all. "That's what I've been saying for the last half an hour, have you been listening?"

You rolled your eyes at Topper's unnecessary sassiness, "Yes, Top, it's just been really hard to process."

"What's hard about it? Rafe has literally never had a soft spot for anyone except Wheeizie, like ever. And he's rich. He can spoil you and you're literally set for life-"

"Whoa, okay." You started laughing. "Let's not go that far. I am not marrying Rafe Cameron." ok girl...

"Okay but think about it." He smiled. "We could be like kinda related. If Sarah marries me... or if Rafe considers me a best friend, I could be like your brother-in-law."

You started laughing harder, "Sarah's not marrying you."

He didn't look too amused by that. "Okay, shut up, seriously. Rafe likes you."

The more you imagined his face and his smile, his dad outfits and the way he literally is an asshole to everyone except you, the more hot your face felt.

Topper smiled as he playfully pushed your shoulder making you laugh. "He's cute."

"Cute? Don't call say that to his face, he'll get all flustered and then roll his eyes."

You already imagine his face, making you laugh a little harder. "Okay, okay. If... if I were to like him back, how would I approach him?"

Topper sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Okay, uh. Maybe just talk to him and flirt before he asks you out."

"That's so obvious-"

"He tipped you a 20 last night and you're worried you're making it obvious? Are you serious?"

You rolled your eyes. You reminded yourself to talk to Topper about his attitude problem later because it's getting a bit much. "Okay. Fine. I will."

--

Other than being a waitress at the country club, some days they put you on the Beverage Cart duty. It was probably because they were short in staff that day but honestly you didn't mind. You'd rather be out on the golf course then cooped up in the restaurant. You also get double the tips than you would inside.

Plus, you had a cute golf outfit on with the cute visor; you felt like a true Kook.

As you were going around, selling drinks, you saw Topper and Rafe. Of course they were going to the club today; it was nice Saturday afternoon. You face palmed yourself. You already knew what Topper was going to do.

Topper saw you as well, a smirk forming on his lips. "Rafe, uh. Remember Y/N?"

Rafe felt himself blush at the mention of you. He shook it off, nodding. "Uh, yeah. Doesn't she work here?"

"Yep. Also, I was uh, talkin to her the other day and she called you cute."

Rafe's mouth flew open as he whipped his head towards Topper. "What?"

Topper smiled. "Yeah, she called you cute. Like, really cute. She was blushing and shit."

Rafe smiled and he didn't even feel it. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, dude. And, oh! Speaking of the devil, there she is."

Rafe's eyes widened as he looked over at you and shook his head. "Oh, uh."

"I know you like her, man." Topper added as he looked to Rafe.

He shook his head. "No, I don't like her. I think she's cute."

Topper rolled his eyes. "And you blush around you, you stumble over your words, you tip her real good. You were practically on the floor kicking your feet in the air and blushing when I told you she said you were cute."

Rafe frowned at Topper's wording and before he could protest, he started pushing Rafe towards the cart. "Dude, hold on."

"Ask her out, man."

"Not now, dude, I've been plotting for months now, I can't just-"

"Dude, do you trust me?" Topper stopped and looked dead in the eyes.

"No." Rafe stated before Topper rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the fifty-th time that day.

"I don't care, now come on." He pushed Rafe towards the cart before grabbing the back of his collar, making him walk towards you. If this was any other situation, Rafe would've landed a punch to Top's jaw but he didn't wanna scare you off, so he kept his cool.

You stared the two as they approached the cart. They seemed too... normal. They were both smiling and you felt like they were plotting. You know for a fact that Topper is.

"Hey."

"Hi." They both said in union, making Rafe look back at Topper, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What can I get you two?" There was unnecessary awkwardness between the three of you as they both looked at each other.

"Two... sodas."

"Sodas?" You looked assumed. Were they 12?

Topper looked back at you. "Yes."

As you reached for the cooler, you heard Topper make an 'O' sound. You turned around.

"Oh shit. I forgot my wallet, I will be right back. Rafe, you stay here and get us the sodas, alright?"

Rafe looked back with his teeth gritted, a warning to Topper. "Topper."

He shrugged. "I'll be right back." He jogged away as you and Rafe made eye contact.

You knew that he knew what you had told Topper. And then, Rafe realized the same thing. He didn't know what Topper had told you but he just hopes it wasn't too embarrassing.

"Um. I never asked but um, what sodas do you want?"

"Ginger ale. I'm pretty Topper wants something girly like Diet Coke or something like that." Rafe mumbled the last part but you heard it. You let a horrendously loud laugh because you knew Topper would get a Diet Coke.

You suddenly felt embarrassed but it melted as you heard Rafe's small laugh as well. Butterflies filled your stomach as you heard him.

"Okay, then. One ginger ale and uh... a Diet Coke." You laughed a little after, making Rafe smile.

As you handed him the Ginger Ale, your hands touched and you felt like your face was on fire. You quickly pulled away.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe started. "Did Topper say anything about me?"

"In what way?"

"Um, I don't know... something involving you?" Rafe inquired as you smiled.

"Did he say anything to you about me?"

"Maybe." He dragged out the 'e' sound as you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"Topper may have mentioned a few things about you. But they weren't bad. They were actually a little... admiring to hear."

He went red as he looked down at his feet. "Topper just loves to run his mouth."

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He definitely loves to gossip."

He laughed at your wording. "He said some stuff about you, too. It was... admiring, too."

Your cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling this hard and it'd been only a couple minutes.

"Okay." Rafe sighed. "Are we talking about the same thing-"

"Yes, we are. I think."

Rafe was going to have to push all his pride and ego just this time. "I think that you're really pretty... and if you're not with JJ, I'd love to take you out on a date."

You had forget he heard that part. "I'm not with JJ."

"Okay, then what do you say?"

"Yes, Rafe." You smiled at him and he swore his heart did a little flip at the sound of that.

"Okay," he sounded breathless.

You then turned in your cart, looking for a piece of paper and your pen. You found one and then wrote down your number. You turned back and handed it to him. "Text me and then we can sort out the details, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Topper finally walked back, wallet in hand, a big grin on his tanned face. He looked down at the paper in his hand and gave Rafe a proud pat on the back.

"Here's your Diet Coke," you held in your laugh as you gave the drink to Topper. Rafe smiled back at you as Topper opened it quickly and took a big gulp.

"Thank you. I knew you'd know my favorite drink, Y/N." He took out a 5 dollar bill and gave it to you before winking and you felt yourself cringe at Topper as you took the 5.

He and Rafe walked away and you stood there, your heart beating fast as you watched them walk away.

"What'd I say? Trust me, Rafe, I promise it'll work out and look, it worked out!"

"Yeah, for once, dude."

"Oh, shut up."

You heard their argument and laughed to yourself, getting back into your cart to drive to the next course.

[robobarbie]

lmao seeklove ending except mc doesn't find his phone number before everything shuts down

Another afternoon. But this one is a bit exciting.

The countdown ends, and in the middle of the chat feverishly spamming their goodbyes, the server shuts down. Everything wipes from the screen. A familiar, dull hum behind Odxny dwindles into nothing, leaving the room eerily quiet. They can't remember the last time they heard this much silence. It's... a little unsettling.

Od's eyes dart to their cell, perched on the edge of the desk. The screen is dark, as it always is, but they know that'll soon change. The thought almost makes their heart skip -- out of fear or excitement. They aren't sure which.

You can find the number, right?

Od thrums their fingers on the desk as seconds tick by. Was it too hard? Surely you'd not struggle with this. By now, you've dealt with much harder queries than finding some simple contact information. Which you've done a million times.

More seconds tick by. Perhaps you've taken a break.

I shouldn't be impatient.

Od stands, stretches, and glances around the dark room. Time for a distraction.

Might as well start unpacking.

They slide their phone into their pocket and get to work.

----

With each box unpacked, a small lead marble settles into their chest. The phone remains silent in their pocket, a fact only emphasized by the still room.

Where are you?

I should have just given them the number.

Fuck. Why did they decide to make it so fucking complicated at the last moment?

The phone buzzes.

Od drops a box full of wiring and nearly rips the phone from their pocket. And the caller ID...

"...Spam."

Four more marbles added.

----

A day passes. Then another.

Od's nearly unpacked. And the weight in their chest is nauseating. Their appetite is nonexistant.

They lean forward in their chair, staring at their phone's empty screen. They endured two more spam calls after that. It had them considering turning the phone off completely and letting you go to voicemail (whenever you managed to make it there), but so desperately did Od want to talk to you.

It's not that bad. Not that bad.

The phone feels cold in their hands.

----

You aren't calling.

For a moment, they do wonder why. Was it really too hard? Or did you just not...

That thought always trails off, going somewhere Od doesn't have courage to brave. They don't know when they will. Each time they tip toe close to it, something starts to crack in their chest. It's not safe.

The stack of unpacked boxes near the door catches Od's eye. They haven't thrown them out yet.

Tossing the phone to the side, they sink deep into their cheap couch. They fold in around the familiar weight in their chest, now all-consuming. Something useless and mind-numbing is playing on the TV. It's loud enough to keep any terrible thoughts from sneaking in.

The hours pass, the show drags on, the phone stays quiet. Od dully remembers they haven't showered today, but doesn't get up.

Another afternoon.

[infoactionratio7]

call it fate, call it carmen pt. 3 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy and the pretty girl from the cafe visit one of the chef's favorite restaurants in the city. they end the night with a question of what is to come next for the two of them.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2350

note: to read the other parts click here! basically carmy is showing off that he knows a bunch of restaurant owners bc he's famous and thinks he's super cool, lots of food talk, the usual! very cute fluffy nothing crazy. this is the last part el oh el. i hope u all liked this mini series. (sorry it took so unnecessarily long to write i hope u all like it ♡ )

The smell of aromatic spices and cold air hit you as Carmy led you into the restaurant. The lighting was dim but still pleasantly warm, you were in awe of the decor. The traditional japanese architecture mixed with the modern vibes of all the restaurants you had seen Carmy following on Instagram. The host led the two of you into a dim lighted honeycomb looking wall full of booths, Carmy beamed at you seeing your fascination with the setting. He stayed behind you, placing his hand on your hip as the two of you walked up the steps into the booth. Shivers seemed to run down your spine at the delicate touch.

"Here you are, someone will be over in a second to help you" The host smiled at the two of you warmly, they placed the menus on the table. You scooted into the booth, the wooden walls surrounding you creating an isolated booth for the two of you.

Carmy sat down at the booth, he shook his coat off his broad sholders, exposing the white chef's shirt underneath. Of course he was wearing it, the only shirt you had seen him wear each time you had the pleasure of seeing him. Not that you were complaining, his tattooed arms looked beautiful in the dim light.

"Now" Carmy grabs the menu and says your name softly, "My brother helped this guy start the business, there were a few guys wanting to buy this place up for some laundromat years ago, but they ended up dropping it for this resturant to buy the place." He had been scanning the menu, you had yet to open yours up, knowing he would pick the best option for the two of you. You gazed at him as he intently looked at the menu, there had never been someone who you felt this way about before. It was so simple, to bring you to a resturant and pick out your food. But the fact he was just doing it, because he wanted to impress you made it even more attractive.

The server came up to your table, you ordered water and Carmy did the same, wanting to stay sober for the night to get to know each other better in the right headspace.

"What are you gonna get for us Carmen?" you smiled while his gaze met yours, his blue eyes piercing as they scanned your face. His lip quirked up in a smile, "You know I think that is gonna have to be a surprise. I just know you are gonna like it though." As the server walked up to your table with the water glasses, Carmy brought the menu up to his face, hiding the order from you. You giggled at his antics, making the order a surprise just for you. He gave the menu to the server and the server smiled gently at you, and bringing up their serving booklet to shield their words from the man they mouthed, "You've got a keeper."

As they walked away, you made eye contact with Carmy, "What are you up to Berzatto, you have a sneaky look on your face?" He took a sip of his water then leaned in close to you, grabbing your free hand on the counter "You'll see" He grinned from ear to ear, "now why don't you tell me a little more about yourself huh?"

His hand was so warm, yours ice cold in his palm, the drastic change in temperature came as a shock to you. His touch felt so comforting, the rough calluses from years of working in the kitchen gave you butterflies. He had been through so much in his career, there was so much admiration you had for his past culinary escapades. And the thought of possibly accompanying him in any future was swimming around your head. You forgot where you were for a second, coming to after you felt some pressure on your hand, a squeeze from the chef sitting in front of you. "I lost you for a sec, what were you thinking about?" You realized you had been silent for more than a minute, shaking your head you replied, "Sorry, sorry, I totally zoned out, just thinking about some stuff, it doesn't matter" He looked suspicious but acted like he just didn't care, moving on.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you some stuff about myself um..." You looked up and around trying to think of something interesting, "I used to watch Gilmore Girls and then write down all the different jokes I liked so I could say them at school and people would like me more if I was as funny as I thought they were. It never really worked but my mom said she always liked the jokes!" Blushing, you looked down, laughing at yourself, reluctantly letting go of Carmy's hand and burying your face into your palms. Parting your pointer and middle finger you peaked through. Carmy was laughing, and laughing hard, the man seemed hysterical, his eyes squinting because he was laughing so, so much. "I cannot believe I just told you that, holy shit that's so embarrassing"

"That is so fucking funny, how old were you?"

"I was 6"

He fidgeted with the utensils on the place setting, "I would have loved to know you at six" He laughed and shook his head, "I don't have anything as embarrassing as that to tell you but one time I did drop the whole pan of ricotta polpette during christmas dinner and my mom took every single toy in my room and put it in our freezer in the basement that I was terrified of because I thought a yeti lived there." He looked so happy talking about his childhood, "My brother, Mikey, came with me and his airsoft gun to go into the freezer to help me get them back just in case the yeti tried to attack us."

You covered your mouth as you laughed, he glowed, recounting a simpler time than now. His smile dropped, thinking about the past christmas, not wanting to remember how horrible it ended up. You could tell something was wrong, and wanting to change the subject, you cleared your throat.

"So, Carmen, when am I gonna get to try your cooking?" He lightened up, excited to talk about his career again. "I mean, you bring me out to a restaurant but I want to try some of those famous family recipes. They have to be good it seems like it's important to your family" You smiled at him, giving him a once over, his hair was a mess but he was so beautiful, it just did not matter.

"I promise you can try my food soon, I hope it's not too much for you though, I'm sure you've never had true italian cooking like mine" You rolled your eyes.

"You're from Chicago."

He tilts his head gazing at you, "And?"

"There is no way your 'true italian cooking' is that accurate, come on."

He looked at you like you had just taken all your clothes off, "That is the most insulting thing you could have said to me." He grabs his chest and leans forward with a pained look on his face, "You are breakin my heart already, we've barely been on one date and I'm already close to death." He dramatically gasped and met your gaze with a toothy smile.

"Oh shut up Carmen"

"Never" He says your name, just as the server comes back with a few dishes in hand.

They set a bowl in front of you, full of soup dumplings, but soup dumplings in the shape of little hearts, the thinly sliced radishes around the rim of the bowl as a garnish, also shaped as hearts. You looked up at the man grinning in front of you. There was nothing to say, this was the cutest gesture you had ever experienced on a date in your entire life.

"Carmen are you kidding, these are the most precious things I've ever seen in my life how in the world did you get them to do this, oh my god," He was still grinning, so proud of himself for making you smile. "Like I said, I know the owner." He shrugged and looked up at the server, thanking them as they smiled, and walked away.

"These are too cute to eat I can't" He looked at the dumplings, then met your eyes, "I think the biggest insult to me right now would be if you did not eat these dumplings right now, so please I need you to enjoy them." He picked up the utensils and encouraged you to start eating. While the two of you ate, Carmy told you about the past few months he had experienced, from moving back home to dealing with all the new people in the restaurant, and his mom not reaching out to him so he could see her, the group he had been going to that his sister recommended, and dealing with the money problems at the restaurant. He revealed so much to you, you shared stories about your family. The friends you had lost in your life and some of your biggest hardships, finally making it to teach in the best school you could ask for with all the best kids. You could not help but fall into his eyes, as he spoke about all the experiences he had in his life, he put his whole heart onto the table in front of you. The chef even shared some of his food with you, the gyoza he ordered for himself was delicious. You both finished the food in what seemed like hours. You felt as if you had been in this restaurant for a lifetime, experiencing Carmen.

"You ready," Carmy glanced at you, with the bill in hand, opening your mouth to protest paying for your half, he raised his hand and shook his hand. "I am not letting you pay for this, I will pay and you will be happy and let me treat you to dinner."

"But Carmen you bought me that baklava and I need to repay you please, please, please" You put your hands together begging him to just let you pay for your half of dinner at the very least.

He said your name like an impatient parent, "I will not let you pay, you can pay for the rest of the dates we ever go on if you just let me pay for this one time, okay?" This made you blush, the idea of Carmy thinking about you and him going on more dates than this one made you feel warm inside. You sank down into the booth, and with a groan of protest you shook your head and gave up.

"Thank you, I want you to feel unbothered tonight." He handed the bill back to the server after he had signed his name and got up. He got your coat for you, holding it out for you to walk into it. Getting up he pulled it up and over your shoulders, grabbing your upper arms, kissing the side of your head next to your ear, "Lets get out of here" He whispered and let go of you, putting his own coat on.

The two of you walked out of the restaurant, Carmy angled his elbow out for you to hold, you grabbed onto him and held on tight. You looked at him with a smile on your face, this was the best first date you had ever been on. As you walked the two of you continued the conversation you had not finished in the restaurant, talking about anything and everything. You could see the sign for The Beef a block away, wondering why he ended up taking you back here. As you reached the restaurant, Carmy stopped on the bench in front and sat down, inviting you to sit with him as he pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind?" You shook your head, sitting close next to him, sharing body heat. He lit the cigarette, took a drag and exhaled. Looking relaxed. You grabbed his arm and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense up before relaxing into your touch.

You looked up at the sky, seeing your breath as you exhaled and breathed in Carmy, he definitely put some type of cologne on but it had faded out so much it was just a hint you could smell. All you could tell was that this was a smell you wanted to be enveloped in forever. You heard your name softly, picking your head up and turning it to face your date. "Yeah Carm?"

He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, the taste cigarette and mint as he held your face with his non-occupied hand. It was like you were seeing stars for the first time, you could feel his excitement as he moved his tongue along your bottom lip. It was a mess of teeth, tongue, and lips. Carmy pulled away and leaned his forehead on yours, beaming. "You called me Carm." Giggling you looked into his eyes, the blue seemed even more beautiful up close, you could get used to this. "Well I think if I'm going to be around you more I might as well call you by one of your oh so amazing nicknames" He chuckled pecking your lips once more, pulling away and taking one more drag of his cigarette. Throwing the butt onto the floor, putting it out with his heel. You put a hand onto his thigh, squeezing.

"I think I really like you Carm"

"I think I really like you too"

The two of you held onto each other for a while, enjoying the sounds of the city as you chatted. Eventually you got up, Carmy walked you home, dropping you at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. As you walked up to the apartment, you realized that finding him was not a coincidence.

It had to be fate.

[pepsiconcoction]

The Perfect Tutor | Lee Know x Reader

pairing: CompSci Student! Lee Know x gn!Reader

tags: fluff, no smut, just a little flirting at the end, minor explicit language, partially proofread

You think he might be perfect. And that pisses you off. Surely he can't be, right?

Why did you have to take the comp sci unit? You’re a graphic designer, you don’t need to know how big scary servers work! 

Those have been the thoughts running through your head most recently. Especially at this moment as you try to “install Windows Server 2019” and “set up Active Directory”. Yeah… because those are definitely real words… that you definitely know the meaning of.

To your dismay, at the beginning of the semester, you found out that you had to take the general computing unit, alongside your regular classes, to gain the number of credits you need to get into next year. Being a graphic designer who uses a computer, you thought that ‘general computing’ sounded like something you could do, you spend most of your time on one for god’s sake!

You’ve been staring at a loading screen for the past 10 minutes, and you’re quite honestly beginning to doubt whether it’s going to turn into anything. The Professor speaks up, dismissing the class, signalling it’s the end of the day. 

After choke-holding the computer to death (holding the power button), you slowly gather your things, watching as the other students begin to leave the computer lab. Once most of them have left, you walk up to the front desk.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?” The Professor, looks up from his school-assigned laptop, glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, Professor. I think I’m falling behind a bit, just a little out of my depth with everything,” You force your sincerest smile, talking quietly. “So I was wondering if you’d be available for extra lessons?”

“I wish I could, but I’m so busy with the department being understaffed. How about you ask one of your classmates?”

You mindlessly turn back to the room where there are a few stragglers left.

“Oh, I don’t-”

“How about Minho?” He gestures behind you.

“Minho?” You turn around making eye contact with the man mentioned. His eyes widen in curiosity at his name.

“Yeah, he is more than capable to tutor you, aren’t you, Minho?” 

Minho’s desk is only a few feet from the front but he takes a few steps towards you, holding a pair of wireless headphones in his hands. He is definitely more than capable to tutor you, and you know this. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but you’ve seen his grades in passing. You don’t think he’s gotten below 95% on any assignment or test. You’d happily have him as your tutor, it’s just that, well, he might possibly be the most handsome guy you’ve ever met. Okay, the standards in the Comp Sci department aren’t exactly high, you’re lucky if most of them are wearing deodorant, but Minho? He dresses well, styles his hair, has a side profile worthy of painting AND he wears the perfect amount of cologne, not too much that it’s overbearing but just enough that it’s refreshing whenever you walk past him.

“Yeah, I probably could.” Minho looks at you and then back to the Professor.

“Great!” He closes his laptop and stands, gathering his things. “I’ve got to run to my next class, you guys can sort the rest.” 

With that, your Professor is halfway out the door. You look up to Minho who is half chuckling at his bluntness, and he turns to you.

“Are you sure you wanna tutor me? You don’t have to say yes, he's not here anymore.” You say, half-jokingly. 

“If you need help, I’m around. I have some free time this Friday if you want to set something up?” Minho asks.

“Yeah, Friday works great for me!”

“Perfect.” You end up swapping phone numbers to discuss the details, and you leave the classroom feeling partially accomplished. Now you just need to be professional, and not think he’s the hottest guy in the world whenever you catch a glimpse of him. You can do that. You can be normal, right?

You absolutely cannot be normal. Friday came around and he rocked up to the empty computer lab looking gorgeous in fitted black jeans and a denim jacket, coffee in hand. Thankfully you had gotten there slightly earlier to try and get ahead of the game with your notes. The two of you had decided to start with the basics, installing the operating system of the computer. Easy. 

“Remember, you don’t want to partition the hard drive, it’s not worth it on these machines at this level.” Minho explained as you quickly scribbled ‘don’t partition’ down in your notebook.

You had discovered that Minho was not only a sight for sore eyes, but also possibly the nicest, gentlest, calmest person you had met. Of course, he had his moments of energy and you two found yourself easily joking around with each other, but he was such the opposite of the gamer stereotype that you had come to dread.

“So, do you play any video games?” You asked, keeping the conversation going as the two of you were forced to sit through long progress bars.

“Not really, no. Not really my thing.” He says.

“Really? A computing student that doesn’t play games? That’s rare.” You chuckle, almost in disbelief. 

“I mean, I’ve played games. With friends and such, but I’m just not crazy into them.”

“So what are you crazy into? Computers? You seem pretty good with them.” You look towards him. The both of you are sat around a single computer, and yes, you’re very conscious of that fact.

“I guess? I’m only really taking this class for the credits.” He leans back in the chair.

“Wait, so am I!” You laugh. “So why are you so good?”

“I used to take computing in high school, and I was a bit of a nerd back then.” he laughs. 

“So what’s your major then? Mister I-only-need-the credits.”

“Dance.” He smirked.

“Liar.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. I’m a dancer.” He sat forward, chuckling.

“Show me.”

“I don’t dance for free. You’ll have to come to one of my performances,” he says cockily, crossing his arms.

“Whatever, I’ll believe it when I see it,” You say, turning back to the computer which is now conveniently asking a series of questions. After that, you finish the installation pretty quickly and decide you’re done for the day. You and Minho part ways and you find yourself back in your dorm after a stress-induced power walk through the campus. You immediately call your best friend.

“Hey, Y/n,” she picks up.

“Code Pink.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” She hangs up. Nine minutes later your best friend is letting herself into your dorm room. 

“Tell me everything.” She takes a seat on your bed. You proceed to tell her about Minho: how handsome he is, how nice he is, how funny he is, God! Are you really gushing about a boy you barely know?

“I’m like, mad! I want to hate him,” you say, from your spot on the bed. “He has to have a fatal flaw, right?”

“For sure, maybe he’s homophobic? Transphobic? Misogynistic? He’s a man! He has to be sexist somehow!”

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” You trail off in thought (and partial disappointment). “Okay, now I gotta just get it out of him, so I can justify my disliking of him, and then boom! Crush gone!” You finally say.

“Easy, now, you wanna watch a movie?” your best friend grins up at you.

Okay. Get evidence he is a shitty guy. Surely this can’t be hard. You can do this.

Except the next time the two of you are studying, he comes in wearing a white t-shirt. Plastered on the front of it are the words “trans rights are human rights” in a bold, italicised font. Okay, not transphobic. You find yourself staring at it, coincidentally staring at his chest. He definitely notices.

“Y/n?” he questions as he sits down next to you.

“Oh, sorry, I was just looking at your t-shirt.”

“Ah, yeah I got it for the pride parade a few months back.” He starts looking through his bag, taking out his notebook.

“Nice, the one in town, on Main Street?”

“Yeah. My best friend is gay, so I went with him and his boyfriend, and a few of our other friends.” He explained. Probably not homophobic either.

“That’s great, I went too, with my friends as well.” You smiled.

The two of you got to work, tackling “ADDS” and “DHCP”. You probably weren’t going to remember what those acronyms stood for in a few hours but for now, it was going well enough. Minho had been scrolling through his phone for the past few minutes as the two of you relaxed, taking a quick break, when he spoke up.

“Damn, have you seen this?” he turns his phone screen to you. “Scotland has made free sanitary products a legal requirement in all public government buildings.”

“I heard about it a few days ago. It’s sick.” You responded. He locked his phone, putting it down on the table. Okay, not actively a misogynist either. Fuck. 

You left that study lesson slightly more frustrated at your slightly bigger crush on Lee Minho.

At the third tutoring session with Minho, you were so sure you were going to nip your little crush in the bud. From down the hall, you spot him standing outside the classroom on the phone. As you get closer you seem to realise that he’s mad? Frustrated? You’re not sure.

“I don’t care if it’s a stupid idea, I’m getting him. I’ll pay for everything.” You hear him say, beginning to feel bad for eavesdropping. He must sense your presence as he turns around and shoots you a smile. 

“Alright, I have to go, I’ll talk later, love you.” He hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket.

“Sorry, that was my mom, her and I are disagreeing.” he fake smiles.

“Oh? What about?” you ask.

“I want a cat. Another cat, I already have two. But I just saw a cat on one of those re-homing websites and my heart is screaming at me to get him. So I’m currently trying to convince my mom.” He explains, sheepishly.

“Are you serious?” you deadpan.

“Uh, yes? His name is going to be Dori and I-”

“For god’s sake,” you sigh, admitting defeat.

“Uh, sorry?”

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” You sigh. His eyes widen a little.

“Like seriously,” you continue. “You’re such a nice person, you’re funny, you’re not shitty, you like cats, you have two of them, for Christ’s sake! And if that wasn’t enough, you’re possibly the most attractive man I’ve ever met. Please just tell me what is wrong with you.”

There are a few seconds of silence. A smile begins to grow on his face. You realise what you’ve done.

“You think I’m perfect?” He grins, cockily.

“Great, and now I’m an idiot.”

“You think I’m attractive.” he beams.

“Oh, shut up, surely you must know what you look like,” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Well, yes, but there’s a difference between knowing I’m conventionally good-looking and you finding me attractive.” 

“And you’re smart,” you groan. He begins to laugh and when you look back towards him, you notice he’s blushing a little. You begin to laugh as well, hoping to break any potentially awkward tension.

“Okay, since I’m so smart, I have a great idea.” He smirks down at you, taking a step forward.

“Oh god,” you begin to dread. Your breath definitely doesn't catch in your throat.

“Let’s skip on the tutoring and I take you out for lunch, how does that sound?”

Your eyes widen as you take in his offer, he may be giving you his best flirtatious look, but under all that pink on his cheeks, you know he’s being serious.

“I’d like that.” You smile.

“So would I.” He responds, eyes shifting nervously down the hallway. 

“Do I get to see you dance?” You giggle.

“We’ll see.”

[stayinhellevator]

Tangents

"I had all and then most of you; some and now none of you."

Synopsis: Dreams turn into a nightmare when Wonwoo and you find each other too late.

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst disguised as Fluff, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 4241

Warnings: None

Playlist: The Night We Met ~ Lord Huron

Prev ┈    ⪩⪨      ┈ Masterlist

'Good things come to those who patiently wait', was something you had often heard; except they never did, especially for you, not even a single good thing.

You were a late bloomer for everything; the last one to get your periods, the last one to get a 'puberty glow up', the last one to be picked for the high school prom dance, the last one to receive your soul mark, the list was endless. Always the last.

You had gone so long without a soul mark that you were convinced you were a bondless until one day abruptly you felt a burning sensation on your wrist, even after surpassing the maximum age limit of receiving a soul mark. You remember being the happiest you've ever been in your life. You supposed it was fate's way of making it up to you. You were relieved that at least now you didn't have to wait to be picked up as the last resort.

Until you realised, you were in fact, not even your soulmate's last choice apparently.

You watched as your clients turned friends happily greeted the guests yet their eyes never seemed to linger too long anywhere that wasn't themselves and their hands seemed to find perch wherever possible on each other's bodies —seemingly around everyone yet apparently only having eyes for each other.

If six months back, someone told you that your acquaintance from college would one day contact your humble organisation to plan her dream wedding with her soulmate, you'd shrug with indifference. While Myra was a nice, compassionate woman, you never saw eye to eye on your outlook on life. She was too dreamy, often daydreaming about her ideal first meeting with her soulmate; while you were cynical, struggling to make ends meet, elaborating plans for your dream career.

You supposed, in the end, after all, you both managed to get what you worked hard for. She, her loving soulmate, and you, your own wedding planning company. Though, you were nowhere near your dreams, at least, you had begun somewhere.

Myra introduced you to her soulmate Seokmin and you remember being a bit jealous of them; they reminded you of your parents, loving and as real as possible. Whether you agreed or not, deep within, you wanted to have a partner like hers.

And your hopes skyrocketed when Seokmin noticed the soulmark in your inner wrist and off-handedly mentioned that his cousin's mark resembled yours; that he could introduce the two of you, if you want.

Jeon Wonwoo was his name, you learnt.

And with the drumming hope in your heart, you had agreed because of course you had. You couldn't be a coward and a dreamer simultaneously; you knew that for dreams to come true, you had to take risks.

And so, after a restless night of stalking Jeon Wonwoo's socials, you waited for him in the cafe that Myra sent you the location of. You waited and waited and waited.

But he never came.

After three humiliating hours of restlessly glancing at the door, every time it opened, you trudged out of the cafe, avoiding the pitiful looks of the servers, deciding to forever close the chapter titled 'Jeon Wonwoo' without even having written a single word; because that's what it was —an unfinished chapter in the story of your life.

The next week when Myra and Seokmin came to discuss the colour theme with you, the apology was loudly evident in his eyes before Seokmin could mouth it and you had shrugged him off.

Because it was neither his fault nor his story to explain.

And so here you were, watching the couple celebrate their dream wedding, at least as dreamy as you could make it, you hoped and watched from the sidelines, heart thrumming in blissful satisfaction. These are the little moments that make your life worth living, whatever of it is left at least.

A hard push at your side nearly disbalanced you bringing you out of your reverie. A bit angered and annoyed at the rude behaviour, you turned back to catch the culprit, only to be confused at seeing a familiar figure of a woman running past everyone at sight, straight down the exit, followed by a towering, sturdy man, who looked as dissheveled as a heartbroken boy who got rejected by his first love.

Except you recognised both of these figures as Seokmin's friend Mingyu and his soulmate. Mingyu often helped you around and also took on the responsibility of authority over decisions in the couple's absence. So you were quite familiar with him by now. If you hadn't known, you'd think he's single for the man knew he was charming and certainly used it if need be but you also knew he absolutely adored his mate so you weren't too worried.

Your friends often said that you were good for your own good but you'd contradict and say it was your nosiness and so, out of mere curiosity and concern, you were about to follow them, when the couple of the hour abruptly appeared in your vision.

"We couldn't be more grateful for you -you truly made my dream come true. Thank you so much for truly making our special day, special."

Myra's gentle voice, brimming with enthusiastic joy infected you and you found yourself distracted.

" I did what I could. This was all you guys. I'm so happy you liked it. Congratulations guys. Here's to forever."

You smiled at Seokmin's grinning visage over Myra's shoulder as the bride nearly shook with the overwhelming emotions took over her entirety. She gently squeezed your hands as if grounding herself after you broke the embrace.

"Did you—did he come to you? You know he's here too—I mean were you able to talk?"

While you had slowly come to adore the caring nature of your friend's fiance, the man really didn't know how to take a hint, he was down right oblivious, you didn't know how Myra handled him. He didn't know when to stop, he didn't know when to start, he didn't know his best friend was in love with him and everyone seemed to see it, even you. He didn't know a lot of things, just like he didn't know when to let go. You suppose that's his charm after all.

"Seokmin it's your wedding tonight and these should be the least of your worries. But since you asked, no, we haven't met or talked; nor am I expecting to. It's a done and dusted topic now."

You mustered a formal, dismissive smile at him, hoping you didn't sound too harsh because, though oblivious, the man had a heart of molten gold, and you didn't want to offend him or worse your friend, specially on a day like today's. But you did what you had to because you saw it in his eyes. Pity!

There was pity in his warm kind eyes and if one thing you hated the most in this world, it was pity. Just because you weren't meant for a 'normal life' like him, didn't mean you were a pitiful person.

You saw how Myra's hand squeezed Seokmin's bicep in warning as they shared a look—an understanding that was meant for no one but them, an intimacy you once wished for, with your own soulmate, immediately sending a pang of hurt in your heart for losing what you never even had.

"Well then we'll leave you be. But please eat something before taking your meds. You look really pale right now. I'm scared you've overworked yourself."

Myra's assessing eyes were filled with concern for your well-being and once she was sure that you'd give in to her request, she smiled at you before dragging Seokmin away.

The reminder of your soulmate's presence under the same roof as you, opened a few too many wounds within you, that never quite really healed, a constant scar reminiscent of what was meant to be yours but would never be yours; a harsh reality check that though a part of the same world, you were not cut out for a normal life; that your soulmate was probably happy with another in this very same life that you two were supposed to share together.

You looked down at the still full plate in your lap, feeling a bout of nausea building up in your stomach. Was it another one of those symptoms or the anxiety that was slowly starting to consume you, you didn't know but you were sure that the delicious food on your plate was too much to even look at.

So you regretfully put the almost untouched plate on the counter, evading the curious eyes of the people around you and straight away escaped to the farther most balcony, hoping no one would find you there.

As much as the night was peaceful, it was empty; a certain hollowness that couldn't be lightened up even by the twinkling stars, much like your own life. No matter how many people loved you, how many achievements you had up your name, how many memories you had managed to conjure up till now, your life lacked lustre.

There's so much to do and very little time left; at the same time, you couldn't wait for this countdown to be over.

A trickling sensation down your nose made you internally groan with exasperation. God! You were a mess, literally and figuratively.

Before you could take out a handkerchief of your clutch, a hand miraculously appeared in your line of vision with one.

So not only did someone see you being a miserable, lonely mess but also witnessed an embarrassing moment of curse that your illness left upon you.

Great! One more person who's going to pity you tonight.

Your eyes traced the veiny muscular arm, in order to offer gratitude, only to have your breath knocked right off your chest.

No, it couldn't be. Your eyes must've been deceiving you.

But even rapid blinking couldn't change the vision that materialised in front of you.

"Wonwoo!"

Your own hoarse desperate whisper of his name embarrassed you because why were you so needy of a man who ran away like a coward? You swear you had planned to ignore Wonwoo if need be but the sudden warmth in your chest at just being acknowledged by him faltered all your elaborate plans. Though, if this warmth was more out of fury at being abandoned without reason or relief of at least getting one good look at your soulmate before your time was up, was a question you didn't know the answer to.

"Hey ..."

His own unsure whisper of your name was so silent that you almost couldn't hear it but it was as if your senses had acquired a new affinity just for him.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the handkerchief from him and wiped the blood off your nose, avoiding his concerned gaze bb

Why did he care now? Why was he even here? Did Seokmin send him?

Why now?

It was awkward between the two of you because of course it was. You both didn't have anything to say, how could you, after all, at the end of the day, you were nothing but strangers. Tied in the tangles of your anxiety, you observed his fiddling bony fingers as he fought his own.

"Do you..think we can, maybe, talk... somewhere private? Only if you're comfortable.. I don't want to impose."

And just for that, purely out of spite, you wanted to refuse, so that you could see the hope within him slowly die out just as you witnessed yours but his nervous fumbling paired with his otherwise stoic confident face practically sweating buckets made you pause.

How were you to resist him when you're so selfish to make every little moment with him count as much as you can?

And so you nodded and let him guide you out of the hall and down to the nearly empty cafeteria of the hotel. It was almost ironic how you were waiting for Wonwoo just like this at that cafe just a few months back. And now here you two are. Sitting opposite each other with so much to say and almost no words. Almost.

You waited for him to fill the awkward silence between the two of you however it seemed as if the longer you two sat here, the more nervous he started being, if his bouncing leg didn't give away enough so you decided to be the one to break the ice.

"So, do you have someone waiting for you back at home?"

His eyes widened comically as all of his movements froze which gave you a bit of satisfaction. You suppose you could be nice only to a certain extent.

"Is that why you think I didn't come?"

His unsure voice theorised as he realised the direction of your thoughts and soon his sharp eyes softened with guilt.

"Is it not?"

You raised your brow in retaliation and saw him heave a sigh of exhaustion before he nodded his head as if preparing himself to become a lab rat.

"I...I guess I should begin with apologising to you first. I'm so sorry that I got cold feet and wasted so much of our time when we could've been together and fuck...i-"

He raked his hand through his hair, clicking his tongue while you quietly watched him; you wanted to hear him and his reasons but to your horror, you realised that nothing he says would justify your suffering after all. How much more selfish could you be?

"You see I wasn't really keen on finding a soulmate, like ever. I had been indifferent to the idea of soulmates, even when I first got my mark, it didn't make me feel any differently. Romance had been the last of my priorities and so I had only had casual relationships. It never really crossed my mind about what I'd do if I found my soulmate. So when Seokmin, out of a blue moon, announced that he found my soulmate and that he fixed us a date at a cafe, I was...thrown out of the loop for the first time in my life, with no sense of direction whatsoever. And like a coward, I ran away at the last moment..."

What started as an anxious blabbering ended with an ashamed mumbling, as if he finally realised how childish and foolish he actually sounded. He decided to make you question your entire existence just because he was scared of a change?

Hah!

"I know I cannot do anything to undo all your pain but I promise to be a better person for you and for us. Please, please give me a chance."

You scoffed at his words as if you really had a choice or time to make him repent. All this, for what?

"The funny thing is, you were so scared of finding your soulmate that now... you won't ever be able to have her.

He gasped as if my words had stabbed him and then twisted the knife in his wound. He shook his head as if to retort but I leaned forward on my chair.

"I..I don't have much time left Wonwoo so even if I wanted to make you make it up to me for the rest of our lives, I'm afraid I don't have much life left within me."

You observed how his eyes glossed with a realisation that seemed to suddenly hit him, which made you smile wryly at his crestfallen visage.

"I was diagnosed with leukaemia shortly after the cafe incident. They had hoped that my soul bond would save me but...."

You stopped when a harsh exhale left Wonwoo's lips as he fell back on the chair as if he had no energy left within him.

"But I abandoned you..."

His empty voice washed the space between the two of you as you watched him slowly retreat into a shell, his complexion paling as his eyes bore holes on the vacant table, body so still as if he were not even conscious.

Was this his repentance?

"Wonwoo!"

You called out to him, not really liking his condition. While you had wanted to see him in pain, just as much as you had been, nothing could've prepared you for this day. You didn't like it, seeing him half dead as if someone snatched his very soul out of him and left him to rot; and the fact that it was due to you was killing you more than your illness.

His eyes snapped to yours, as if you had the remote to his brain, all yours to command. His tearful eye waiting on you tugged at the strings of your heart, making your lips stretch just a bit.

" It's okay. I don't blame you for it and neither do I want you to blame yourself."

A fresh stream of tears fell down his dark chocolate orbs as he shook his head in negation.

"If only I hadn't run away that day, you could've been better and I...I could've still had you in my life."

His voice, laden with grief, shook with every word, filling your own eyes with tears, at the helplessness of the situation. All those days you spent thinking about the ways you'd want Wonwoo to suffer, just as much as you had; had cursed him for seemingly living a peaceful life while you were to your vices but at this moment, you wanted nothing but to curl up in his arms and ask him to hold you while you break down.

But he was so far. So close, yet so far. Right in front of you, but out of reach.

"What could have been is not something that'll change our present Wonwoo. It's useless, trust me; it gives you nothing but misery."

No one knew better than you how it felt to dream about the various possibilities, only to be dragged down to the harsh reality. It was a temporary escape, sure, but also weakened your ability to cope with the present. It was futile. You guess, this was one thing you could leave behind with Wonwoo and hope it helps him in the future.

"I must leave now. I'm exhausted and not really feeling well, if I'm being honest. So, please excuse me."

You knew, the more you stayed in his proximity, the more you'd want Wonwoo and that wouldn't be fair to him, because when your time's finally up, he'll be the one, who's left behind to suffer, all alone, and that too, over a person he's barely known.

Just as you were about to get up, a firm grasp around your wrist followed by a panicked yell of "NO!" stopped you, pulling you back to your chair, as Wonwoo now kneeled in front of you, holding onto your knuckles.

"Please don't leave. Let me be with you. At least, as long as we can."

He no longer hid his desperation as his grip on your knuckles tightened further and his teary eyes begged for yours to understand. You left out a breath in resignation, cupping his cheek, after freeing your hand from his.

"Wonwoo, you don't understand. I really have, at most, a month more and when I'm gone, it'll be hard for you to live on with the soul weariness. So we've to distance ourselves from each other in order to save some part of your soul."

You tried explaining to him, for his own betterment, but he stubbornly shook his head, now holding with both hands, yours to his cheeks, nuzzling into them.

"I don't care. If borrowed time is what we have, it must be for a reason and I want to spend every single second of it right by your side."

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at his ethereal face, his eyes shining like stars, holding yours as if magnets drawn to each other, making your resolve weaken.

There's only so much barrier you could put up, and your heart, as you were coming to realise, was merely a prisoner of your soulmate, who already seemed to have at the palm of his hand.

And so you let yourself be selfish. For one last time.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Four weeks. For weeks were all it took for you to do the very thing you'd promised yourself to not do after getting diagnosed. You fell in love, and that too with your soulmate. And it was bad because all it was doing was going to prolong Wonwoo's misery and seal him to a hopeless future when you ultimately die.

But it's not like you planned to fall in love with him or didn't resist him; heck you didn't even want him to be in your proximity, knowing it was all for nothing but it just happened.

As you two tried to make the most of all the time you had lost, conversing about constellations and giggling over clichés of the most cringe movies known to mankind and debating over your favourite books, it just happened.

Wonwoo understood you like none other, perhaps not even yourself, you felt right at home with him, safe and serene; his knick knacks soon became so dear to you that if there's an afterlife, you're sure you'd reminisce about them as your source of belongingness.

You knew you had no control over time, nobody ever had but since the day you found Wonwoo, time had started slipping like sand, against your wishes and soon your body started deteriorating as you ran out of your borrowed moments, quietly watching Wonwoo conversing with the doctor and the news couldn't have been good, it wasn't if the way Wonwoo's complexion paled further didn't tell you enough.

"What did he say?"

You inquired as soon as he took a seat beside you and noticed the sheen in his eyes that he tried to play off as the gloss of his glasses. He shook his head as he fumbled with the sheets, trying to dodge your query.

"Wonwoo! Look at me. Please!"

You softly requested, wanting to be able to see him, have his attention for you didn't know how long you have now. When you had his attention, you gave him a cajoling smile, hoping it'd mask your pain for you didn't want him to stress himself anymore but who were you kidding?

"I wish I could turn back time. Or rewrite our destiny. Anything. We didn't deserve this."

The angst he was trying so hard to hide finally burst as he held onto your hand, resting his head on his and sobbing.

You truly didn't deserve this. You both deserve to be happy together, get married, travel around the world, have kids and grow old together. But here you are.

And you were so helpless, unable to give your soulmate the happiness he rightfully deserves and instead only bringing him misery ever since he came to know of your existence. Maybe you didn't deserve a soulmate. You didn't deserve Wonwoo.

"We had known this was how it would end Wonwoo."

Your voice trembled as you willed yourself to not break down as Wonwoo's body shook as he cried, holding tight onto your hand as if you'd disappear any moment now.

"But if we could rewrite our story, this time, I wouldn't let go of you easily. I'd march right into your home, burst into your room, slap you right in the face and drag you by the ear to that date we were supposed to have."

You teased him desperately, wanting to stop his sobs for if this was the last time the two of you ever saw each other, you wanted to see his breathtaking smile before you closed your eyes and it worked when he half-heartedly chucked at your jest, roughly wiping his face.

" Yeah I'd like that. That would totally reset my brain."

Your giggle brightened his visage as he placed a kiss on your knuckle but it soon vanished when another pang of cough hit you and more blood trickled down your lips.

You hated this; the pain, the discomfort, Wonwoo's tears. You were so tired.

You just wanted to sleep.

You felt Wonwoo's nimble fingers caressing your head in a soothing gesture and opened your eyes to look at him, wanting to burn his face in your mind.

"I'm sorry!"

You helplessly watched as tears cascaded down his cheeks as he shook his head before kissing your forehead multiple times.

"Ssh! I know!"

Of course he knew. He always knows. Your heart felt light for Wonwoo knows. It's okay.

"I love you!"

You didn't even know you were crying until you felt Wonwoo's fingers on your face as he leaned down and placed his lips on yours.

"I love you too my heart."

He whispered over your lips and after placing a series of pecks over them, he parted, just enough to look at you in the eyes.

"Sleep my love and wait for me. I'll come and find you where no constraints of time limits us."

And so you allowed yourself to sleep, wishing if you get another chance at life, you'd get to spend it at Wonwoo's side, with more than a few weeks, loving him in whatever form you were made to.

For now there was peace in your heart that at least you had all of him in whatever little fragment left of your life.

©Stayinhellevator2024: Please don't copy or translate my work on any platform.

Read On Wattpad

[carionto]

Pressure and Release

Human: *hmm-ing at a set of dials and gauges*

Alien: What seems to be *translation unit catches up with the information they're displaying* OH MY GOD IT'S GOING TO EXPLODE!!! GET TO THE ESCAPE PODS NOW!!!!

H: Shh, it's fine, I'm just experimenting.

A: OH MY GOD WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE HORRIBLY!

H: Hey! Rude. *turns a dial causing a loud hissing noise* It's just air compressors and hydraulics.

A: *due to not dying, is beginning to relax* Why do you need up to 200 atmospheres running through these systems. We have invented alloy-specific magnetization mechanisms. Please, why do you keep insisting on these volatile and explosive means?

H: *turns the dial up* Because... *releases the pressure again, loud sudden hissing sound again* That's a cool sound.

A: Just because you think something is 'cool' doesn't make it-

H: *interrupts with another air build up and release sound without breaking eye contact*

A: *leaves*

H: *continues to play around*

_________________________________________

Okay, so I wanna get this off my chest. I find myself now for the fourth time starting a fun little activity, doing it for months on end, having a blast, and then almost suddenly dropping it entirely. First time I wrote some short stories or something every day for about six months and put it on deviantart. Then some longer form stuff started cropping in, sort of continuous narratives or whatever, and I stopped. Second was running a open D&D campaign with a persistent world but ever changing party, each session a sort of one-shot with a decision that would impact the whole world and what future sessions would exist. Not even 10 sessions in I felt under pressure to continue and build upon what I had already and just couldn't and stopped. Third was another kind of TTRPG, this time running my own server for Lancer. Again, open one shots, but less connected and I would hopefully get some of the players to want to run their own games within this freeform framework that I directly lifted from a D&D server I was in, even had some of the same people join as players. Few months later, I felt this massive pressure from myself to run games and come up with new scenarios that I just froze up. I cancelled game after game and just eventually abandoned the server and the resources I had made. Fourth time was here on tumblr itself. Back to writing some short form stuff on a fairly regular basis, almost daily for some time even. Had a blast, and then longer form content started creeping in. I thought I wanted to write some stories with an overarching plot and recurring characters and connected storylines, build up and pay off, that sort of thing. Again, I created this massive pressure by myself for myself of myself to do something I apparently can't. I created this sense of expectation of myself "Well, I started this, I should finish it, but where do I go, what do I do, how can I connect this?" And then this self-inflicted pressure got to me, again. And I stopped.

What I have known for a while, but couldn't put into words is that I don't want to tell a big long epic story or anything like that. I don't have one of those in me and forcing something like that only makes me shrivel up and run away. I have a world, several in fact, in my mind. Entire continents of a low fantasy character driven political intrigue and drama based world with tons of rules and restrictions, thousands of years of history, strong personalities for the main actors and so many individual scenes with them and the supporting cast, and a timeframe for when the overarching story happens and how it ends. But no story itself. Just scenes. I have a high fiction sci-fi world, again, with very distinct factions and races, most of the details I have written out back when I was a teen in a physical notebook with pen and pencil. Lots of historical points and events, how the races work, their domains if you will, near magical powers I try to explain with plausible science. Tons of specific details. Even drew each of their common symbols, how one of the languages is structured, schematics of how their cities are planned, and details on other planets in the system and how those might be important later. But, not a single individual character or story. Just dry facts. And then we have the loose sci-fi world I've created here. Bunch of different angles and perspectives, some comedic, some more serious, even put Cthulu in there. Many short and mostly self-contained stories and episodes of various humans doing things an exaggerated version of humanity would do. There is potential for a number of expanded and longer form stories here, some I attempted, and as mentioned, what ultimately made me stop. I don't have a book in me, and I don't want to write one. I just like to write little snippets and I want to get myself to accept this idea that, no, it does not need to become more than that. Because every time I start going down a path where it feels like it should be more than a one page thing, I seize up, start thinking that I need to do this, panic when I can't come up with anything, go silent, and give up. It just does not work for my brain. And that's fine.

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

here’s my fic for day 1 of @gem-pearl-week 2024! today’s prompt is “duality”

The bunker was a bad idea. It was never going to work.

The thought echoes in Gem’s head over and over as she stumbles back into her base, brushing splinters of wood out of her hair. It’s okay. I just have to survive. False will be fine. I just need to get out of here.

The reindeer plan hadn’t worked, either. Animating it could have been successful (at least, that’s what she tries to tell herself), but the creeper got there first. That was her last idea. She has no Plan C.

Unless…

Gem’s heart drops into her stomach. There’s one other thing.

Hermitcraft has more than a few members with hidden powers. Joe’s admin abilities have never made sense to anyone. Grian never talks about his past, but everyone still knows about the Watchers’ manipulation. Hermitcraft is a safe server for outcasts, and everyone knows they can trust each other. Still, Gem keeps one secret close to her chest.

She walks through the vault in her base, blinking back tears as she does. I never thought it would end this way, she finds herself repeating over and over. It was supposed to be safe. I was supposed to be safe.

The amethyst-and-obsidian frame of a portal comes into view at the end of the hall. Gem can feel her heart slamming against her ribs. “It’s okay,” she mutters. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

If she tries, she can find a world with a purple signature. Anyone who stumbles upon the portal in the future will think she traveled to the Nether. No one needs to know about Gem’s powers. She can keep her secret.

Gem presses her hand against the back wall of the vault, right in the center of the portal frame. A swirling purple light forms beneath her palm and spreads out to the edges of the obsidian. She’s rushing – she knows that all too well – but she’s running out of time, and the fire from the incoming moon is making it hard to think. Wherever she ends up, it’ll be better than a dead Hermitcraft world.

“It’s been good,” Gem whispers. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and steps backwards into her worldwalker portal.

She immediately realizes she’s made a mistake.

The world is practically devoid of light. Monsters walk in odd patterns. There’s slime below her feet where grass should be. Gem has somehow found her way into a broken dimension, and she isn’t sure she’ll be able to make it back.

Gem struggles to her feet. The purple glow in her eyes flickers but refuses to fade. “That’s concerning,” Gem mutters. If she can’t get her powers under control, she’ll burn through them before she can get back. Although, Gem realizes, back to where? Hermitcraft is gone. My comm is disconnected, so I can’t contact anyone. I’m trapped here.

A Drowned – on land – sneaks up behind Gem. She shrieks and punches it in the face, and it crumbles into dust, leaving a pile of glowstone behind. Gem shudders. “This is gonna be a problem.”

————

It’s been five days, and Gem is still missing.

The stitches in Pearl’s wings have nearly healed by now. She cautiously flutters them, then stands and paces circles around her makeshift shelter. Almost everyone is home on the new server by now. Gem is the only Hermit who Xisuma hasn’t found yet, and there’s still no sign of her.

Gem might be hurt. Gem might be dying. For all Pearl knows, Gem might already be dead. They have to find her.

Pearl’s mind whirls as she paces faster. She’s done this for days already, but she refuses to give up. She has to figure it out eventually.

Gem said there was another server a few months ago. X Life. But she died there, and it was hardcore. She couldn’t go back. She used to have a Skyblock world, but Scott would’ve found her there if that’s where she went. She couldn’t be anywhere that we already know about.

That’s a good thought, actually. She hasn’t considered that yet.

She brought me a modded fruit once, back before we realized the moon was a problem. How could she get it past the edge of the mod library? It’s like she teleported herself straight back to Hermitcraft from another server. Is that possible?

A whispered sleepover conversation finds its way back to Pearl’s memory. “Portals are weirder than people think,” Gem had said. “I’ve heard you can get them to take you anywhere.”

Pearl isn’t an admin. She holds very little power against the code keeping them apart. But she still has one ability left: Pearl knows Gem better than anyone else ever has.

I can’t bring her home. But what if I reached out?

With a bit of tinkering and some basic redstone supplies, Pearl uses her communicator to assemble a small signal flare. She types out a message and presses the stone button next to her communicator, broadcasting the signal to every comm she can reach.

<PearlescentMoon> /match GeminiTay

<PearlescentMoon> /read

<PearlescentMoon> Gem, it’s Pearl. I’m alive. I’m here.

Pearl sets the communicator down, closes her eyes, and waits.

————

<comm_systems> Emergency message detected.

<comm_systems> Activating basic settings.

<733277755533777722233668666666666> 4433614448777717332777555144461255544488833144461443377733

Gem stares down at her communicator, stunned by the message in front of her. She watches as the numbers slowly decode themselves into words.

<pearlescentmoon> gem its pearl im alive im here

Gem bursts into tears, then tries to blink them away. She’s been in survival mode for nearly a week. Fending off glitching monsters and trying to construct any sort of shelter has been beyond overwhelming. She was starting to think she’d never see her friends again. That message – the one she’d given up all hope of ever receiving – is the final key she needs to find her way home.

There’s the tiniest signal in the message. It’s a hint of orange in the back of Gem’s mind, clicking into place every time Gem rereads it. It’s not strong, but she thinks she can get just enough information out of it. Gem takes a deep breath and dares to hope. She might manage to make it back after all.

A horde of angry slimes sneaks up behind Gem. She shrieks and takes off running towards a nearby cave. The stone sides of the cave will make a fitting portal base, and it’s her best way out. She just has to survive until then.

Gem rushes into the cave and presses her hand against the stone wall. She’s exhausted, afraid, and nearly out of energy. Her powers are all but gone. But if the other Hermits are still alive, she has to get back to them. They’re her family. She needs them.

The stone breaks beneath her palm, and amber light glows through the cracks. “This better work,” Gem mutters.

The whole cave glows amber as the cave wall crumbles away into a portal. It’s smaller than it should be, but Gem is just grateful that it’s big enough to fit through at all. She crawls into the portal and crosses her fingers. “Take me home,” she whispers. “Please just take me home.”

The air feels thicker than it should be. Gem struggles to breathe as the portal warps around her. After what feels like an eternity, the amber light clears to reveal a plain of stone in front of her. Gem musters up the last of her strength, drags herself out of the portal, and collapses onto the stone ground. She can’t do much more than press the SOS button on her communicator, close her eyes, and wait.

————

Pearl doesn’t think she’s ever flown faster in her life.

She took off towards spawn the moment Gem’s name appeared on her communicator. When the emergency alert appeared, she instantly changed direction towards the new coordinates. Pearl can feel her back aching where her wings meet her spine, but she refuses to slow down – not now, not for anything. Gem needs help as soon as possible, and Pearl is determined to give it.

Pearl lands in a plain of empty stone, with virtually no food or useful resources. She’s suddenly grateful for the apples and bread in her inventory – Gem might be starving to death, and Pearl is glad to have the supplies to fix it. Gem isn’t visible right away, so Pearl takes off running. “Gem?” she shouts, praying her voice isn’t carried away by the wind. “Gem, where are you? It’s me! I’m here to help you!”

“Pearl?” Gem calls weakly from the other side of a small hill.

Hopeful tears spark in Pearl’s eyes at the sound of Gem’s voice. It only hits her right then that she was worried she’d never hear it again. “I’m coming! It’s okay!”

As Pearl rounds the hill, Gem comes into view, collapsed on the ground and shivering weakly. Pearl races over to Gem, sits down next to her, and wraps her in her arms. “Oh, void,” Pearl whispers. She can’t stop herself from crying. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m right here.”

“Help me,” Gem murmurs in response. “I’m so tired. I can’t move…”

“I’ve got you. Don’t you worry.” Pearl hands Gem a loaf of bread from her inventory. “How did you get here? Xisuma couldn’t find your comm signal anywhere. We were so worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Gem scarfs down the bread in three bites. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Of course.” Pearl hesitates for a moment, then lifts Gem into her arms and carries her bridal-style. “I built a shelter at spawn. You can stay there as long as you need, okay?”

“Mhm.” Gem nods sleepily. She can feel her consciousness slipping. “Wanna go home…”

Pearl presses a kiss to Gem’s forehead. “You are home, love. You’re safe. I’m taking you back now.”

Pearl is prepared to take off into the air when she realizes Gem is already asleep in her arms. She walks instead, taking comfort in the soft sound of Gem’s breathing. As they travel towards spawn, Pearl sings under her breath to keep her heartbeat steady. The sound seems to keep Gem calm, too.

When spawn finally comes back into view, Xisuma runs over to Pearl. Even beneath the visor of his helmet, Pearl can hear the worry in his voice. “Oh, thank the Aether, you’ve got her. Is she okay? Does everything seem right?”

“It does. She’s worn out, though. No idea how she got here. I’m just glad she did.”

“I have my suspicions,” Xisuma mutters. “It’s unimportant, though. I can take her back to the hospital shelter if you want–”

Gem, barely awake, responds by wrapping her arms around Pearl’s neck and clinging to her for dear life.

“Understood,” Xisuma says. Pearl is certain she hears a hint of laughter in his voice. “Pearl, you’re okay taking care of her for the night?”

Pearl is too busy blushing from the hug to respond for a moment. She finally manages to speak. “Gladly.” She ruffles Gem’s hair affectionately as she walks back to her tiny wooden shelter.

The moment they’re inside, Gem can’t keep herself together anymore. She bursts into tears. Pearl whispers comforting words as she lays Gem down on a soft woolen bed. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. We’re starting over, okay? It’s a fresh start. We’re gonna be alright.”

Gem grabs Pearl’s hand and refuses to let go. Pearl lies down beside her, and Gem presses herself against Pearl’s torso, cuddling her closer than she ever has before. “Missed you so much. I was so scared…”

Pearl drapes her wing over Gem like a blanket as she holds Gem close. “I know. It must have been terrifying. But you’re home now, alright? I’ve got you. It’s all gonna be alright.”

The night grows heavy. A crescent moon shines through the window of Pearl’s shelter. Gem refuses to move away from Pearl, and Pearl never lets go of her. Everything slowly starts to feel stable again.

Gem, the once-thought-lost worldwalker, drifts off to sleep in the arms of the woman she loves – the one who’s finally found her again.

[shygirl4991]

Just a Dream

A fic inspired by a gmod animation @therabbitdemon did in the discord server we are in! Summary: It was finally the moment he has been waiting for, as he watches the sunset his dream finally comes true. He finally gets to confess his feelings for his ex rival after all this time.  Tags: Love confessions, first kiss, two idiots in love, character death, angst with happy ending, fluff

SMG4 sighs walking back from a shopping trip, thanks to Mario experimenting making different kinds of spaghetti they ran out of food at the castle. He smiles seeing his home, as he enters his home something feels off. The castle was too silent, he looked around and saw no one was home. He was getting worried, hoping that Mario hadn't gone next door and set something on fire so he dashed out to see SMG3. 

He runs into the cafe and lets out a sigh of relief seeing nothing was broken yet, looking around he was glad to see the snails have not damaged the cafe. He hears a ding from an elevator letting him know Three was approaching, he walks out from the back room and screams seeing four. “WHAT THE HELL!? SMG4, why are you here? The cafe is still closed!”  SMG4 lets out a sheepish smile as he waves “Uh the sunset looks nice..thought you needed air?” Four wanted to facepalm at how terrible that was. 

Three looked him up and down before relaxing, he rolled his eyes as he walked out the cafe “Whatever, I was going to take a walk anyways.” Four smiles as he follows three, the pair stop in front of the castle and look at the sunset together. It was relaxing, whatever troubles he was having felt as they were being washed away. Three takes a deep breath as he turns to the other man “Um..four?” turning he notices Three's face “Yeah?” 

Three blushes the moment their eyes made contact, he had to do it. Three had been planning to confess to the other man for days, so watching the sunset was the perfect time. He looks down nervously “I um…” Four looks at him concerned “Are you okay?” in panic Three yells “YEAH!” realizing he yelled at his ex rival he looks down “I’m..sorry.” 

What was wrong with him, he just had to say those magic words and face the music. Four smiles softly at Three, he lifts up his hand “It’s okay!” Three nods turning to Four “I just…” slowly he grabs Four’s hand causing the man's eyes to widen in surprise “I wanna tell you something..” Four looked at their hands intertwined, he felt his heart race “Wha-what is it?” his eyes slowly move looking into Three’s crimson red eyes.  “SMG4 I-” without thinking they both slowly lean forward, Four knew exactly what Three wanted to say. And Three picked up on it as their lips connected. 

Suddenly Four hears static, he pulls away to see Three has been frozen. He takes a step back. Confused, he runs to look for help. He runs out the showgrounds only to appear back at the grounds, he gasps seeing Three with another person. They kissed Three and the both of them giggled “I'm so glad you picked me over that idiot four, cause darling we were made for each other.” Four growled and was ready to approach them when he heard static again, then the showgrounds went dark. 

“Four wake up! We can't lose you too!”  He heard Meggy's voice from a distance. 

That's when his memory returned to him, they were trapped in the TV world. Mario escaped and helped them get out of their brainwash. The crew were on their way to leave the castle, when the strange flesh tentacles approached them just like at peach's castle. They did their best to dodge and fight out the appendages only for Four to trip and hit his head. Disorientated he was unable to defend himself, that's when three jumped in front of him.  

Four wakes up staring at the blue sky, slowly sitting up he sees the crew crying. Was that whole thing a dream?

Getting up the crew didn't hear him approach until he saw the reason for everyone's tears. There on the floor was SMG3 devoid of any life “I…what? This has to be a joke…” hearing four the crew run giving him a group hug. SMG3 was gone, after all they went through after learning his feelings through a dream, he lost any chance to tell the man his feelings. Mario looks down shaking “Mario failed to save you all…im sorry.” 

Meggy shakes her head “This isn't your fault, it's that TV bastard fault!”

They hear laughter causing them to turn around “We can have this now can we?” the man of the hour arrives. They watch as Mr Puzzles smirks at them flashing a TV remote “We cant get those five star ratings with a favorite character dead, that just won't do!” 

Seeing the remote, Four charges at the adware determine to get the remote to save Three. Mr Puzzles chuckles as he hits pause on them “You all really are idiots, hahaha don't worry i will fix this and then we will go back to making the perfect endless entertainment,”

Mr Puzzles hits rewind bringing the guardian to life, he quickly starts to tend to the wounds. Seeing this Four felt a strange energy flow through him, his eyes glow yellow as he starts breaking free. The moment he was able to move again he charged at Mr Puzzle, hearing movement he turned “HOW ARE YOU-” Four using the strange energy punches the screen smashing the TV. Mr puzzle falls to the ground as Four frees the others “WE NEED TO RUN NOW!” 

Mario picks up the now living SMG3 and runs with the crew, as they run Four remembers one of Three’s old hideouts and leads everyone there.  Now safe everyone decided to rest and plan in the morning. Four sits next to the unconscious SMG3, gently he runs his fingers through Three’s hair “I hope you wake up soon three, we have a lot to talk about.” He lets out a shaky laugh “I need to tell you..I'm sorry im such an idiot and that i love you.”  

He breaks down crying not hearing someone moving next to him, he jumps when hands gently wipe his tears “You are an idiot, what dumbass confesses to a man near death?” Fours eyes go wide turning and seeing Three give him a weak smile, without a second thought Four makes his dream come true as he pulls Three in for a kiss. Mario, who was walking over to check on them, sees the kiss and smiles “About time,” he turns to let the others know the pair was okay. They don't know what the battle with the Adware will bring, but one thing was for sure, Four wont let Three go again.

gmod art by rabbitdemon

[astrokatsuki]

SUMMARY You wanted to test out a book you got from a garage sale. Just so you can get your money’s worth. When something goes wrong you start to think the book was useful after all.

WARNING Toji, smut, like two spanks, blowjobs (receiving), gets a lil rough, not proofread

WORD FROM ARTIST This is my first time writing smut ya’ll…. 2.5K

HIGHWAY TO HELL

Why are you the dumbest person alive? If you’re even still alive, that is.

You used to believe you were actually pretty smart. You did well with A’s and B’s in high school and you got even better grades in college. But now, you’re not so sure you’re as smart as you thought.

You know you shouldn’t have picked up that dark magic book. Especially from that sketchy garage sale, you overheard coworkers at your server job talking about it. The pages were worn, dirty, and stained. Plus the cover barely held on, some duct tape being used as a half assed repair. You’ve watched more than enough horror movies to know doing something this stupid never ends well.

Surprisingly, you would be one of those people too if it wasn’t for your curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, but you prayed that the same outcome wouldn’t happen to you. When you finally stepped through the door of your cute, one bedroom apartment, you recklessly flung off your shoes not caring where they landed and carried the thick book back to your room.

You just wanted to try it, see if it worked at least once. You doubt it would anyway.

Making it to your room, you decide against sitting in your bed and instead opt for sitting on your baby pink rug. The last thing you want to do is bring that dark energy to your bed.

You shouldn’t even bring it to your room but here you are.

Your bedroom is filled to the brim with different shades of pink and a collection of stuffed animals that happen to multiply every time you go shopping. Books lay hazardously in the furthest corner of your cozy room, your gaming setup’s lights turned on and have been for a while, brightening the area and making the room even better.

You stick out like a sore thumb in this room. Your closet consists mostly of baggier clothes, but you have a hefty amount of clothes for when you want to show off a little. One of these outfits you could’ve worn if you decided to go out tonight.

This dark magic book also sticks out like a sore thumb. But, you proceed anyway.

After spending about 10 minutes give or take, just skimming the pages, you stumble across one that seemed the most harmless.

Contacting a demon.

This was the most tame one in this book, which was unnerving and almost made you rethink your choice. You paid money for this though and the owner of the garage sale made it clear that you couldn’t return anything.

Hoping that creating an atmosphere would increase the chances of the ritual working, you turn off the lights and light some candles.

Fortunately, the ritual only has three steps.

The first two were pretty easy and straightforward. Grab some sticks and put them in a circle and Take some DNA and place it in the middle of your stick circle.

After reading the first step, you swung your feet over the side of your bed duvet, shuffled into your slippers, and picked some perfect sticks from the front of your apartment complex.

The last step in order to complete the ritual, is to close your eyes and say a chant.

Seems easy enough.

The chant doesn’t seem to be in English but you closed your eyes and tried your best not to completely butcher the chant.

After a generous amount of time you begin to feel silly and almost embarrassed.

‘Of course this wouldn't work’

With a sigh and slumped shoulder you open your eyes just to roll them at yourself. After having your vision clear from having your eyes shut so long, they focus on a large figure, with an amused look on his wide grin.

On the desk sits two of the candles you once lit. They’ve both been blown out.

The figure moves closer as your mouth opens to let out an ear-piercing scream. A large hand lazily covers your mouth to muffle your voice.

It’s so close. So close you can finally see some of its details. It looks like a guy. A gorgeous one.

But it can't be.

Your heart is racing and you’re scared shitless, but you think that money wasn’t completely wasted after all. The ritual worked.

“You fucked up the ritual you tried to do.

The guy's voice sends a chill straight down your spine and to your core. It’s deep and slightly raspy.

This man can’t be real, not when he looks that good anyway.

His dark hair covers his forehead and the tips of his eyes, and a scar runs down his lip.

Fuck.

He stares blankly at you before remembering you can’t respond. His rough hand was still covering your mouth. Not that he asked a question for you to answer anyway.

He slowly removes his hot palm from your mouth, seeing if you would scream again.

Oddly you don't.

“Huh?” Is all you can manage to say.

He grins wider at your dumbfounded state, “You said the chant wrong, I mean. There’s so many spells in that stupid book. A lot of spells are similar.”

“So instead of contacting a demon I actually summoned one?”

He adjusts his position on the floor into a more comfortable one. You would’ve never thought demons could get uncomfortable.

“Smart boy.”

Your dick twitches at the praise, even if you didn’t feel like a smart boy. You instantly feel shame. This is a demon, this is wrong.

Seemingly restless, the man stands up inspecting your room. He annoys you in the process.

“So how do I send you back-“ You look up at him for his name.

“Toji.” He offers, not paying you any mind.

“Right Toji.” The name feels good leaving your lips. You move to your bed from your old place on the floor. You need to get comfortable, this seems like It’ll take a while.

“Well that’s the thing.” He stares you down, as if you’re supposed to know what thing he’s talking about. There’s a lot of things wrong with this right now.

“What thing?” You stare at him dumbly. You don’t have time for this.

You didn’t say that when you were summoning the damn man.

Toji walks away from his place by your floor books and instead decides to sit next to you on the bed.

He glances at you blinking. Leaning down to pick up the magic book that was previously discarded on the floor, hands it to you.

“Read the first page.” He knows something you don’t. You really should’ve been more thorough before deciding to do something like this on a random Saturday.

Warning! In order to make an entity leave you must give them something*.*

You read aloud.

You look up at him to find him already staring at you.

Not responding right away his warm, big hand travels to the side of your face. He leans closer. So close your noses are almost touching.

He’s so beautiful.

His 6’2, 250lbs frame covers yours as his eyes lower to your lips. You can’t figure out the exact scent that reaches your nose when you’re this close to him, but his musk makes him that much more enticing.

“I want that something to be you, sweet thing.”

He sees the hesitation on your face. He can also see the desire.

The hand that isn’t on your face travels to palm your clothed dick.

“But you’re-” You begin to stammer.

“A demon?” He finishes, not seeming bothered by your tone. He couldn’t blame you for being wary. But he would show your cute self a good time.

“That’s what makes it fun.”

This is so wrong. But you can’t help the way your skin heats up under his touch. You can feel yourself getting harder the closer he gets.

His slightly chapped lips capture yours in a hungry kiss. The kiss is filthy, the tension fills the room like a fish tank and you can practically see the desire oozing out of his body.

You can no longer tell which tongue is yours and which one is his because both of them are overlapping. His hands trail lower, cupping underneath your jean-clad thighs and picking you up from the edge of the bed.

Toji’s lips eventually leave yours. A dissatisfied whine escapes your plush lips as your dazed gaze focuses on his.

“Patience baby.” He warns.

He unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your thighs slowly, almost as if he’s trying to tease himself. He then moves you closer to your headboard. Even though he warned you, he’s also affected by your lips not connecting with his.

You tug on his black compression shirt, trying to pull it off him. It hugs his body deliciously, you can’t even imagine what it would look like off of him.

“I wan’ it off” You tug again.

He pulls away from you quickly, and takes his compression shirt and sweats off in record time.

You reconnect your lips.

He takes your bunched up shirt off of you, throwing it behind him, your nipples hardens due to the cold air filling up your room.

The sight of you sprawled out all pretty for him is a sight for sore eyes. Like an angel.

An angel for his demon.

He captures a hard nipple in his mouth sucking on the perked flesh while tweaking the other nipple.

You mewl, writhing in his grasp. Without removing his lips from your nipples, he slides your pink boxers down your thighs. You dick twitches again from the brush of his arms across your thighs.

“Such a pretty hole, for a pretty boy,” He groans as he lowers himself past your leaking cock so that he's face level with your pulsing rim.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

“So polite.” He seems to be talking to himself almost. He stares at your cute little hole getting close but never touching.

Growing shy, you begin to close your legs. But before you can fully close them a slap on your thigh causes you to yelp.

“Keep them open. I want to see you” He glares, finally touching you. He reaches his hand back up to your dick, Toji rubs your slit up and down collecting your pearly pre.

“M’ sorry.” you twitch.

“I know you didn't mean to be bad, sweetheart. Just keep them spread for me.”

He knows exactly where to touch to get you pent up. He slowly inserts two slicked fingers and curls them to hit exactly where you need them.

You moan out making eye contact with him from your place on your back. He stares back up at you with dark eyes. While maintaining eye contact his tougue glides against you puckered hole, licking softly.

You grip his hair causing him to moan out with an eye roll. He moves his tongue around your rim trying to get all the juices you leak. His tongue pushes deeper into your hole, while his fingers are still pistoning in and out of you.

You can feel your release building up. You try to warn him, but the pleasure is taking your breath.

“gonna’ cum!” You manage between moans.

“Give it t’me.” The vibrations of his words are the push you needed to tip you over the edge. With the loudest moan yet, your back arches trying to move away from him. He grips your thighs holding you in place making your dick twitch for the third time, your cum erupting straight up and falling onto your soft stomach.

He keeps swirling his tongue to make you ride your high out before his face comes up to face yours. He takes his fingers out of your hole and holds them up to your face.

“Suck.”

Without any words, you stare up at him and suck your release off of his fingers making his dick twitch at the sight.

You're such a cute thing, so pliant.

Pulling his fingers out, he handles you like a doll flipping you over without any effort. You automatically arch, wiggling your ass as an invitation.

He swats it smirking at the sight.

You whine, looking back to watch him pull his boxers down. He's so– big. He’s about 9 inches with a vein running down to his base. His tan, mushroom tip leaks white pearls that drip onto the already messy sheets.

He rubs his tip along your sensitive hole making you quiver. He slowly pushes in, forcing your arch deeper.

He gives you little time to adjust before plowing into your tight rim.

Plap, plap, plap.

The sound of your ass hitting his pelvis as you attempt to bury your moans into the stuffed bear you got at the fair.

He notices your actions and wraps both his hands around your throat, using that as leverage.

“You’re big!” You slur your words, your eyes rolling to the back of your head for what seems like the hundredth time.

“Yeah? Tell me where you feel me?“ Toji takes one hand off your neck to fist your swollen cock.

You slowly move one hand down your waist to push on your stomach, where you feel his tip reaching.

“M’ Right here!” The pressure of his pounding mixed with your hand makes it almost too much to handle, but it's too good to stop.

Pounding sloppily into your fluttering hole, Toji jerks your cock even faster. He can tell you’re about to cum again.

“Slow down!” Your voice grows higher in pitch as you try to push on his abdomen. He catches your hands and holds them behind your back, making his thrusts harder as punishment.

“You can take it.” He grunts.

You rim winks around him once again. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve both come. He’s so mean the way he bullies his cock into you.

He is insatiable.

Your eyes can’t help but roll back as he hunches over you. His mean grin comes into view as you look over your shoulder.

You splutter, “So’ good Toji!”

“Mhm?”

Without another word you cum again, your unfocused eyes black out for a second at the intensity of your orgasm.

Toji follows soon after with an airy whine. You’re boneless as you fall out of your arch and flat onto the bed. Fatigue hits you as your eyes begin to close.

Toji slowly pulls out careful not to stimulate you even more. The last thing you remember before sleep hit you is a wet cloth cleaning your sweaty body off.

The next morning you wake up to a sore body and a page of the spell book flipped open.

How to summon Toji– the incubus demon.

[dangerkittenclaws]

little number

server 141 valentine’s day exchange (thank you to @bunnyreaper for putting it all together)

my valentine is @angelofacidx <3

I had a lot of fun writing this as I obviously got carried away as I usually do! So enjoy and I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day lovely :)

simon x johnny x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: MDNI +18, poly smut

“Something special is waiting for you!”

You hit send to the group chat between your two boyfriends and yourself. It's a picture of you posing in front of your full-length mirror wearing your new lingerie.

You got the set just for Valentine’s Day, a baby pink mesh bra and matching panties both with tiny white hearts dotted all over.

Simon and Johnny have been on this mission for the last two months and with some contact here and there, it’s never enough. They had been told they wouldn’t be home for another week and would be missing one of your favorite holidays.

“Goddamn”

“We need more pictures than that, lass”

You attach three more pictures of different poses. A close up of your bra with your nipples peeking through just behind the material. Another of you from the side, kneeling and leaning back on one hand with your back arched. And the last one from behind, showing off your round, plump ass with your panties off, hanging from your fingers on the other hand.

“My hands are going to ruin that little number and then your pussy if you keep playing like that.”

“Not if I get to her first.”

You love being a tease while they are away. Something about them only having each other and pictures and videos of you makes it more exciting. By the end of each mission, they practically act like dogs and are at your beck and call the moment they get through the door.

The night of the 13th rolls around and you get ready for bed. Once you’ve showered, shaved and gone through your round of care products, you put on a pair of soft pajama shorts and pick out one of Johnny’s old t-shirts. It still smells like him. You pull back the covers on the bed and turn on your favorite Disney movie to wind down. You don’t even remember shutting your eyes before you hear your alarm ringing too early in the morning. Little did you know though, they were currently walking across the tarmac with bags in hand to get on a flight back to you.

“Today won't be quite the same without you both”

“Happy Valentine’s Day <3” you text to the chat.

You don’t get a response back, but that’s to be expected sometimes. They are working, after all.

You wash up and dress for the day, grabbing your purse and jacket before heading out and locking the door behind you.

“Hurry up, Si! We got a pretty lady waiting for us!”

“She won’t even be home yet by the time we’re there. We still have to make dinner.” Simon laughs at Johnny’s eagerness, closing the car door as they step up onto the sidewalk.

They decide to split for a moment; Johnny goes to the left to get the dessert from your favorite little bakery and Simon goes right to run into the grocery store.

Johnny remembers your favorite, a small lemon raspberry cake, just big enough for the three of you to share.

“I love you sweetness” a text comes through. They must finally be having a break, you think.

“I hope you’re having a good day, mo ghraidh.” You smile down at your phone, quick to touch the keyboard to reply.

Simon gets all of the ingredients for a nice steak dinner and he doesn’t forget a bouquet of roses and baby's breath for you.

When they finally arrive home, they both work like a well oiled machine to set up the house for you in surprise. Johnny takes to lighting candles and scattering rose petals in your bedroom with a grin on his face while Simon commits to getting dinner made.

Luckily they finish with enough time to spare to wash themselves of their trip and a little make out session of their own as they share the steam of the shower. They restrain themselves to go any further, wanting to see you first.

Simon smirks as he trails his fingers across the little number you had sent, it hanging from your dresser drawer. He thinks of all the ways he’s going to have you tonight and reiterates the thought of tearing it off of your body.

“Siiiii! She’s home!” you hear, fumbling with your keys more.

They both nearly trample you over, two big dogs who still are puppies at heart. Simon gets to you first, squeezing you tight.

“Si... can’t… breathe..” he instantly loosens his hold, only for Johnny to envelop you both in a bear hug.

“Happy Valentine’s Day bonnie!”

“I thought you guys weren’t home for another week, Price said!” you smiled wide, tears in your eyes.

Johnny kisses you like his life depended on it. Simon shoves your purse off of your shoulder, making room for his lips to be on your neck.

“So did we, but it finished early and lover-boy here made us all dinner.”

“I… really? I’m sorry, I’m just so happy to see you both.” you cry.

You kiss Simon on his beautiful scarred lips before Johnny takes your hand, leading you to the dining room to show you what they had put together.

“This is so sweet of both of you. I wish I knew you were going to be home in time, I would’ve done something too.”

“You are something enough, lovey. Now sit, you need to eat so you can keep up tonight,” he winks at you.

“Simon’s right, those pictures just don’t do your body justice, hen.”

Your outfit choice for the day probably wasn't helping their lingering eyes. A black mesh long sleeve with a low cut vest paired with some black wide leg slacks. You regularly pushed the boundaries of business casual in your office. The vest showed off your generous cleavage through the mesh in the right light.

“Looks like you get to see it for yourself right here in front of you.” You take a sip of your water, letting the condensation run down your hand, down your wrist before setting the glass down. Their eyes follow your fingertips as you slowly trail over your own jawline to your lips, pretending to be as innocent as possible.

You can practically see them drooling. You take another bite of garlicky steak, and another bite of buttery mashed potatoes, but not before using your lips to shape it to your spoon.

“So, how was your flight in, then?” you start, trying to act as if you didn't want to maul the two men in front of you.

You stab another chunk of meat, making sure to soak up as much juice as you can before lifting it to your lips. You purposefully let the red flow from your lips, enough to make a trail down your neck to the middle of your chest. You put on a practiced surprised look as you reach for your napkin. You didn't even make it that far before you heard the chair across from you sliding against the tile.

“That’s it,” Simon growls out. He quickly moves his chair back, standing to his full height before stepping towards you. His hand is around your throat, making you instantly look up to him with pleading eyes before he pulls you out of your chair and against his chest.

You smirk inside your brain, you made his resolve break before you even got halfway through dinner.

“You just couldn’t behave yourself, could you, lass?”

You glance at Johnny to the side of you.

“Of course she couldn’t, the little whore is just as desperate as we are.” Simon has his lips on your own just as he’s finished speaking, swallowing every noise you make.

You whimper and squirm against his strong hold. You notice Johnny's warmth come up behind you. You feel his hands gliding over your hips, fingertips digging into soft skin. Its almost sensory overload as you get attacked from both sides.

Lips and hands on every inch of skin they could find and claim as their own. One particular hickey being made on your neck makes you moan out.

“I've missed those sweet sounds of yours, lass, so much.” Johnny rambles as he comes up for air.

Your hands wander too, between Simon's chest in front of you and Johnny's thighs that are flush with the backs of your own. You still feel like being a tease as you reach backwards towards Johnny with one hand. You firmly rub the palm of your hand along his hard cock that’s still confined to his fitted jeans. He bites off a whimper that escapes him when he feels you grasp around his entire cock.

You feel Simons smirk against your lips when he hears this, you know he has a special deviation when he has two submissives. Your other hand reaches up and around Simon, scratching at the hair on the nape of his neck before digging your nails in lightly. Your nails are his kryptonite. You can practically see his eyes roll back and he smiles evilly.

Before you can think of your next move, you're being picked up and carried to the bedroom. You yelp in surprise.

You're thrown onto the bed, Simon clawing at your clothes in an effort to discard them to the floor. He succeeds as Johnny does the same to him. Simon takes the back of Johnny's neck into his hand, giving him a squeeze that makes him melt like putty in both his hands and mouth. You can feel your pussy clench at the sight of your two men kissing each other.

Once Simon has had his fill, Johnny refocuses his attention to you, knowing what he wants right away. He pulls you up onto all fours and sheds his jeans. His thick cock bobs in front of your face and your eyes go wide. He takes a fistful of your hair and your mouth opens.

“Look at tha’, trained her so good Si, ready to take cock at any moment,” he mumbles out.

He slides his cock into your mouth easily, moaning out at the warmth enveloping him. You do your best to try to take him in all the way before he hits the back of your throat. You gag a little at first but keep sucking, you’ve missed him so much. The hand he has in your hair tightens as he curses out as the other reaches down to play with your nipples. He just cant help but to start to fuck your mouth a bit faster. Your breath tries to keep up, but tears start to run when a smack comes across your ass from behind.

“You like when he face fucks you, huh?”

You try to respond but all you can do is moan around the cock in your mouth. You look up at Johnny for the first time to see his eyes half lidded, full of lust.

“God I love yer eyes when my cock is in yer mouth.” He wipes away blackened tears that are running down your face. He doesn't stop thrusting.

Simon takes this opportunity to spit in his hand and start stroking his cock before he gets up behind you. You feel his weight shift the bed and it gets you excited. You know your pussy is glistening wet without having to look. Getting talked to like that will make that happen.

You push back against him when you feel his hand on your inner thighs, lining himself up with your entrance.

Simon groans out as the tip of his cock slides in between your velvet folds. You close your eyes until you’re full to the hilt with him.

“This pussy was made to take my cock, love.”

He sets a pace that makes your body rock forwards, taking in more of Johnny each time. Simon reaches a hand around and sets an equally fast pace against your clit that's slick with the two of you.

You’re being used from both ends and your mind starts to feel fuzzy. Johnny pulls out of your mouth when he sees you’re about to cum. He jerks at his cock a few times as you moan out loudly, arms shaking. He looks up to see Simons eyes closed, hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you and he comes onto your face.

You open your glazed over eyes when you feel warmth hit your skin.

That's when Simon pushes you down to your chest, making your back arch and ass press flush against his hips.

His thrusts become uncoordinated but no less powerful until he finally slows with another long groan. He cums deep inside your cunt that's still pulsing around him.

All three of you sigh, releasing the tension that's built up for a little more than two months.

You instantly curl up onto your side, exhausted, not wanting to leave your soft bed and two lovers. You feel a warm cloth wiping both your face and pussy shortly afterwards.

You’re still deep within your mind with a smile on your face as you hear Johnny, “Looks like that little number in the drawer will have to be ripped off another night.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for “not being able to keep issues in servers separate”

🌻🌷🌹🥀 (to find later)

this all happened a couple months ago now in mid november-ish so i’m sending this late, but i didn’t want to while the situation was ongoing. for the record me and everyone affected have collectively since left both servers mentioned. so. wee

i (23mtf) do a long of long form roleplay, specifically in public oc-based discord servers. these are servers where people will create a setting and then people can join and insert their ocs into the world, and they’re tons of fun! this is a hobby ive had for years now. it’s really important to me as it’s my main creative outlet and i know a good number of people in the community. i’ll often join servers and recognize at least a handful of people there already

around may last year, i joined a new server and things were great, for a while, but then not long after i joined someone new did, i’ll call her X (34nb) for this. when she first joined the interactions we had were fine, but - and i’m still really not sure why this is, i’m not trying to absolve myself if i did do something but i have no idea what i did to warrant this shift even to this day - a few weeks later she just got… extremely passive aggressive and contrary with me, over silly things. most of it was “in character” but it really stuck out to me. i’d have a character say something marginally unconventional and she’d always, without fail, have one of her characters come in to scold them, even if her characters hadn’t been part of the conversation prior. her characters constantly talked down to or insulted mine. she was always talking ooc about how strange her characters found mine. when i tried to get involved in overarching plots, she would often push me out of them, or insist that my characters were only getting in the way, or would insert her characters to do things i’d stated to the group i wanted mine to do, so i didn’t end up able to do anything. it seemed targeted to me because the main character she was doing this with was known to be very kind to everyone else, but for some reason never had anything nice to say about mine. i know none of this is outright bullying but it wore on me greatly. i tried to confront her on this multiple times to tell her it was making me uncomfortable and to please knock it off, and i tried to get the server mods involved when that failed, but the behavior never really stopped and eventually i was content to just… not interact with her

but then a while later i noticed her treating someone else the same way. i reached out to him about it, and he told me that she had done basically everything she’d done to me to him, and he wasn’t the only one. after snooping around a little more i realized that a lot of people in the server had had this problem with her, totaling 7 of us. 7 of us in the group at the time. some people had dropped characters or outright left the group because of her, so 7 isn’t even everyone because it doesn’t include people she’d already driven out that i couldn’t contact. for reference, this server only had roughly 30 people. even if the number of total members was bigger, 7+ still feels like a lot

i tried to take this to the mods of the server again, but (and this is where i’m unsure if i misstepped) i thought it would be right to bring it up to the mods of a separate, larger server that all of us were in together as well. this server had closed to 50-60 members. in my head, if this person has harassed over half a dozen people like this it’d be silly to assume its only a problem in one group, and even if it wasn’t a problem in this larger server it would be better to make them aware of it so they could keep an eye out

the mods in both servers weren’t happy with me, through. even when all 7 people tried to give testimony, both teams claimed there wasn’t enough evidence to support harassment and that they’d talk to her about it, but this didn’t warrant any further action. keep in mind again i’d already had to go to the mods about this same person before, so they weren’t unaware that this happened to me and they had tried talking to her already. then they told me that it was inappropriate of me to bring this up in a server that wasn’t necessarily involved, and that the 7 of us were ganging up against her and bullying her. and i, especially, had been unfairly targeting her

this confused me greatly! i will admit, it’s likely i’ve been snippier with X than i intended. thats on me, i struggle with tone and i have trouble masking my frustration, but i have never once gone out of my way to make her feel bad. she has a generalized anxiety disorder or some such, and before i realized how many people had this issue with her i had been avoiding her for months. i have no idea what i could have said to her that was taken as bullying, because i haven’t been talking to her, period. when i see her in channels i just mute the channel until it’s passed, ive seriously done everything i could to minimize contact because i figured it was a personal issue. i asked both the mods and her directly, in dms, for examples or screenshots of what i said or did so i could adjust my behavior, and i never got shown any. i still as of typing this don’t know what i did to warrant that being said

the mods said they would give her a warning, but they gave me a warning as well, that if i continued like this i would be booted from both servers. they insisted to me again that i’d been clearly bullying her (did not provide examples) and i never should have brought it up to the other server and gotten them involved. i admit i think they might be right on that last point, but i am iffy. i had (honestly still have) justifiable reason to think X is an unsafe person to be around. she pushes people out of the community and cries and gets meek if she’s ever confronted on it in a way that’s distinctly guilt trippy and makes it hard to communicate. i have previously tried to resolve my issues with her in private and she was never receptive nor did she ever accept accountability, or change her actions. if her target calls her out she just starts doing it to someone else. it’s not like her being in a different server suddenly means she’s a different person. if someone like that is in your server, even if you don’t have “proof” that it’s happened in your group, wouldn’t you want to know about it? they kept insisting it had nothing to do with them and it was wrong of me to get them involved. i kind of think this is a cowardly policy to have, that you won’t act on or acknowledge harassment from your members unless it happens right in front of you and is blindingly obvious, but i don’t know

to be clear, i think X is an asshole, so that’s not what i’m asking about. anxiety disorder or not, she is frankly too old and has done this too many times for me to believe it’s unintentional. even if it is unintentional, she’s still hurting people and makes no effort to change. but i’m wondering if i’m an asshole for bringing it into another server. should i have just kept it in the first group?

What are these acronyms?

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Hi!!! I’m the same guy as the one that asked about the age range and autism :] just having like another question or so idk I forgot tbh.

Again, it’s so okay if you don’t wanna answer any of these!! I completely get it, all is well 🫶🫶

Would Dominic have any reaction to a reader that stims a lot?? Either verbally or physically; maybe his adoration will miau like a cat as a vocal stim frequently or flap their hands or clap as a physical stim as well?? Would he do anything now that he has that knowledge??

If his obsession suffered from OCD, how would he exploit that disorder?? (under the impression that he would exploit it.) Perhaps their ocd revolves around severe obsessions of having something seriously wrong with them, paranoia, or extreme fear of dirt or contamination??

Can he speak another language?? If his adoration was bilingual would he put genuine effort into learning their mother language??

Would he find it disrespectful if his obsession was eye contact adverse?? Actually what things does he find disrespectful like in general?? Does he do anything to correct that behavior??

Would he be okay with them being like incredibly and insanely cuddly and touchy?? I am autistic myself and when I go nonverbal but can still stand touch it’s how I communicate if that makes sense at all??

OKOK I swear that’s it for at least a while 😭😭 he really has me thinking about things jesus christ man. If there’s any spelling mistakes or something you don’t understand, I’m sorry :[[ German is my first language.

Have a great day or night!! I wasn’t expecting to write this much ngl🫶🫶

In case I ever have anything else I’ll put a raccoon at the end!! :]]

-🦝

TW: Discussions of Mental Health, Mentions of OCD, Dominic Being Dominic

Welcome back, my dear 🦝 Anon <3 ! Your English is perfect, thank you for all your wonderful questions ^^ ! To answer your inquiries:

♡ If Reader stims a lot, Dominic will, of course, try to find a way to make your stimming all about him; especially if you have a lot of physical/verbal stims. He'll try to be in close proximity to you so that, when you do stim, you're more likely to either catch/grab him (unintentionally, of course). If you're apologetic - even though it isn't your fault - Dominic will absolutely find a way to guilt you into feeling bad about it, even when his veneer tells you that it's fine, it happens.

♡ Guilt breeds indebtedness - that's what Dominic has discovered. So, fresh off the wave of panic you're feeling, he'll ask you to do something for him that will require you to stay longer, during which time he'll see if you physically stim again or not. If so, he refreshes the process. Just like printing money.

♡ If you verbally stim and, say, make some kind of animal noise, he'll absolutely try and romanticise it. If you meow, he'll call you "Kitty," giving you a warm smile and a good-natured laugh. If/when you become more comfortable around him, he'll start calling you "Mon Minou," - My Kitty. He's one Discord server away from calling you Kitten.

♡ If you suffer with OCD, he'll start manipulating the physical environment to trigger you. Never in his own house, though. You need someplace as your safe space, right?

♡ He'll never verbally trigger you himself, either; nor will he allow any triggers to exist in his house as to try and reduce the likelihood of you having a negative association with his abode if you experience an OCD urge whilst you're there, regardless of how severe it is.

♡ In fact, he'll do things to make it seem like he's the only one that can combat it; he'll check windows to make sure they're locked, he'll sweep up crumbs off the floor to clear the path for you, he'll even call up one of his many doctor 'friends' (acquaintances. People in high places he's fashioned into his elite social circle) to come and informally examine you, to tell you that you're fine.

♡ If it's paranoia you're afflicted with, he'll seize the opportunity to turn himself into the only person you can come to, the only person you don't feel silly or afraid to spill your deepest worries to.

♡ Anything that will make you gaze up at him with nothing less than gratitude.

♡ Dominic can speak two languages fluently - English and French. He can speak other European and Asian languages, too, but to a minimal degree and only enough to discuss business matters. However, if you speak another language aside from the two he already has at his disposal, he'll absolutely make sure to learn it fluently, if only to become one of the few/only people in the neighbourhood with whom you can feel truly connected with.

♡ For peak manipulation, he'll learn everything about your mother tongue after your first meeting and start speaking to you in it - fluently - the next time you meet, pretending to have been able to speak it for many years past.

♡ If you are eye contact adverse, he'll try not to take it personally. But, knowing Dominic, that is a feat in and of itself. He values being able to exert power over others, and one of his main methods of doing so is unwavering eye contact. So, really, you're managing to inadvertently protect yourself from Dominic's Medusa stare.

♡ Behaviours Dominic views as 'disrespectful' would be signs dismissiveness towards him. Dominic is used to being the centre of attention in every environment he's in, so to have you, the object of his every desire, not paying attention to him is...a blow to his ego, to say the least. A metal rod to the backbone of his entire identity.

♡ Dominic will make quick work of ‘correcting’ your behaviour: standing so that it is only him in your direct line of sight; coming in close proximity so you can’t be ignorant to his presence; and, if he's bold enough, taking your chin between his fingers and making you look at up him.

♡ If you're very touchy-feely, Dominic goes absolutely feral; he can't believe he gets to have you touch him without: a.) having to initiate it, and b.) having to hide it. After all, it's a by-product of your mental health - it's beyond your control as much as it is his!

♡ He'll take full advantage of this, too, offering his arm for you to hang onto, his hand to hold, his chest to hide your face in. And all the while, all he's thinking of is how nice it feels not only to have you so close to him, but also how he can use this as an excuse to keep you close in the future.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account