#do not be fooled by my fear of my animals i will still always try to save an animal if i see it

[m0onlustre]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: somewhat enemies to lovers, smut, porn with oc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 5,8k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

ᯓ Notes: Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

ps; this story has the potential to delve into other parts, either of Sylus and reader in the future or of their shared past from the moment he found her. You can always comment and let me know if you'd like to see something more from this fic:))

[spitinsideme]

Well, what animals are you totally NOT afraid of then? Like the ones that you'd always be fine with being around

cats !! i have a cat, shes great ! id pet a stray cat if they looked calm enpufh and in a mood to be touched .. alll other animals thouth ? not really !! i have a huge fear of getting bit by an animal and then getting rabies and BOOM dying !! and all mammals carrt rabies !! i went to sicily once and went out fot a walk at night and i saw a bat (far fron me in the sky) and i ran back home so fast that i almost tripped three times, i would notbe able to live in lijr any place in like amrrica or asia because if i saw a lizard or a weird fucking insrct ??? id leave immedialy i woukdnt get any sleep !! i see videos where therws just like bears around in the forest and people go on thosr fuking forests ?? and its common to go there ?? with fucking bears ??? i cant do that .. thats not me ... i wpukdnt even go NEAR a country where bears are a possibility ... im a pussy .. if i see a tiny mouse i get scared that they will bite me and i will die .. i cannot do it .. i have a fear of insects i cant even be in th3 samr ROOM wi5h a fly, mosquito, ladybird, moth or ANY flyong insect because i am too scared and my hesrt is beating si fast im 10 seconds away from gettimg a hesrt attack !!!! i have never seen a roach but from what ive seen online if i did see a roach id call the hospital immedeiately because i will have so much stress in thar one moment that im probbaly going into shock and my hestt will stop due to the high bpood pressure inside me .. we have those fucking crane flies here i am SO TERRIFIED OF THEM !! AND I MEAN IT !!! ONE TIME I SAW ONE NEXT TO ME AND I 9ANICLED SO HARD I FELL ONTO THE FLOOR ROLLED OVER AND BADHED MY HEAD INTO A WALL BY ACCIDENT AND THEN GOT UP, SLIPPED, BAMGED MY HEAD INTO THE OTHER WALL, AND JUST CRAWLED FRANTICALLY ALONG THE FLOOR TRYING TO OPEN THE LOCKED DOOR AS FAST AS POSSIBLE !!! I AAS SO FUCKING SCARED !!!

i realise i talked mostly about insects but i am afraud of all animals equally to me a rat abd a bear have the capabiloties to kill me even in different ways and a chicken fucking chaded me down once into a bathroom when i was like 10 and that was actually quite terrifiyong they fucking chased me across the playground into the classroom and into the fucking bahtoom i literally climbed on top of a sink because i wss scared and the fucker wouldnt leavr me alonr .. i have alwyad been a cowrd i was born with fear in my body

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Anime Convention (feat. someone real). Part I

Self-Aware! Flags x GN! Reader

Description: In small towns rumours spread like a wildlife. Especially in an age of Internet .

BSD Cast's presence in your life changed, how other people saw you. Not for the best.

Fears and anxiety eats you up. You are terrified of loosing your new friends, but also feel, that one day, you will be alone again.

After you loose your job, in combine attempt of cheering you up, learning more about real world and came in terms with having fans, Fitzgerald bought all of you a tickets to Anime Expo.

BSD Cast are existed and confused. They want to know, what are you afraid of.

You're nervous and excited. You afraid, that any moment you will make a fool of yourself and they will leave.

You simply hope, that everything will be fine.

Part I Description:

You are trying to get through work day, ignoring rude comments, coming from your co-workers.

Flags don't understand, what is happening to you, and why you allow others to harass you. Either way, they won't allow anyone to upset you.

Warnings: OOC. English is my second language. Forced loneliness in a crowd. (Reader want to have friends, but have troubles with making them). Insecurities (Reader are afraid of being laughed at). Low self-esteem (Reader are sure, that people will think, that they are boring and stupid).

Warnings for Part I: Harassment on a workplace. Fights. Being fired from job. Everyone think, that Reader pay BSD Cast for their help with their body.

| Interlude I| >

___________

Albatross's motorcycle dissapeared around the corner when you opened a café's door.

A familiar jingle of the bells greeted you, when you opened the Sunset Café's door.

Time for work.

You greeted your co-workers. As usual, they have ignored you. And send nasty and disgusted glares towards you, when you passed them.

You went straight to "Employee Only" room. As usual, you had to threw away nasty notes your co-workers put in your locker.

You, now in your uniform, stand behind the counter. As usual, you ignored the whispering, that was coming from your co-workers.

Job sweet job...

_______

You knew, that your new roommates would turn, how people saw you.

You always were a quiet student and co-worker.

Like many other students, you were renting a small apartment, were going to the university and had a part-time job. As many other students, you were quiet one. You study and do your job, and spent your free time in your apartment, enjoying your hobbies.

Your parents always told you, how fun university life was for them. About parties, bar hopping and many other social gatherings.

You tried to attend few parties. You did not like them. They were loud, and, after few drinks, people became too against personal space. You did not have any fun. So, not to torture yourself and not to sour the mood, you stopped attending parties.

You still wanted to make friends. You are not social butterfly, but you are not are dead set on being a loner.

You tried to make friends with other students. At first, it worked. You discussed latest news and everyday problems. You dive in your friends’ hobbies, so you can discuss them. However, with time, you have noticed, that they did not try to know you a little more. Each time you wanted to say even a word about last movie you watched or a book your read, you were being shut down, and “friends” already started a new discussion. And, when you tried to say your opinion on something they were discussing, they ignored you.

They did not noticed, that you stopped hanging out with them.

You tried again.

They were better. They didn't ignore you. They let you talk about your hobbies and listen to your opinion.

And then you learned, that they were laughing at you behind your back.

You stopped trying. You didn't want to be ignored again. You didn't want to be laughed at.

Still, you didn't want to be alone...

But, what next group will laugh at you again?

You choose to listen to your anxiety.

And, once again, as back at school, you became

IGNORED

“Quiet-Nerd-What–was-their-name?”

No one expected you to do anything drastic.

Until, one day, BSD Cast appeared in your living room.

And people remembered, that you existed.

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

It first, it wasn't too bad.

After Albatross got all documents he needs and finally bought a new motorcycle, he volunteered to constantly give you a ride to the university. It takes you time, before you agreed to his proposal. You were fine going by feet, or taking a bus. But, the new house was further from the university, than your previous apartment, so, to safe time, you agreed to Albatross's proposal.

Now you have more time to sleep and still can get to the university earlier, to prepare for lectures.

You weren't worried about questions, that fellow students would ask. For them, you were practically invisible. They won't pay attention to you, right?

Perhaps, it would be the case. But, you failed to get one thing in consideration.

Sunset Café

Relatively popular place among students. Not only because of delicious pastries, hot beverages and low prices. Mostly, because of owners' willingness to employ students and giving them a normal paycheck. Not enough to buy everything you need, but enough to pay rent and buy a present for yourself twice a year. Besides, employees were allowed to drink beverages and take few pastries. So, free dinner/lunch. Saved money!

So, of course, you were one of the many employees in Sunset Café. And, sometimes, you shared shift with your "classmates". If you were lucky, you could even say a few words to them, and they would react to them.

You didn't quit your job after BSD Cast appeared in your life. Mori, Fitzgerald, Poe and even Mitchell with Steinbeck tried to convince you to quit it. They assured you, that you don't need this job anymore. They have more than enough money to pay for everything you need or want. Everyone told you, that they won't hold it against you, if you quit your job and focus on your studies.

Your decision didn't change. You will work. Not only because you will feel bad for not contributing.

Because you need money for that... And you will feel terrible, taking money from BSD Cast to do it...

BSD Cast accepted it. They only asked you to tell them when your shifts are and text, when you will go home.

You were fine with sharing this with them.

A week passed. Albatross gave you a ride to university. Then, after lessons were over, you will go by foot to Sunset Café and after work take a bus to get home. Everything was fine. Even if other students noticed your "driver", they didn't ask questions. They get used to ignoring you.

And then, one day, after university, you saw Albatross on the parking lot.

_____

"Hey, [Y/N]! How university was, Racing Star?" Albatross waved his hand, smiling brightly. You tilted your head and quickly approach him.

you felt other students gazes on you... since when someone, except professors, knew your name? and since when, you have a person, who will have a nickname for you?

You lean towards him, whispering.

"Albatross? What are you doing here?" You quickly released, that you were rude. "I mean, hello. University was good."

stupid stupid he will think that you are a rude idiot

Albatross smiles at you warmly and took (yours) helmet from his motorcycle.

"Great! I am here to pick you up. Since today, I will also give you a ride to your workplace! And from workplace to home!" He held the helmet towards you.

You took it and put it on.

Albatross mirrored your actions and get on motorcycle.

"Hop on, Raising Star!"

You sat behind him, on your own proper seat, with your feet on your own foot pegs.

You put your arms around Albatross torso.

The motorcycle moved.

many people looked after you two. in a few hours all your co-workers knew about Albatross and you

_______

Questions came.

"Who is this handsome man?"

"Is he single?"

"You get a boyfriend?! You?!"

"Why he is giving you a ride?!"

You shrugged their questions of.

"Just a new roommate. We met online, talked about some anime and manga for a bit (rolled eyes and whispers of 'useless nerd'). And about few other things. He wanted to move over from his city to this town and wanted us to be roommates. He volunteered to gave me rides."

(whispers of 'And how you are paying for the rides?' you ignored them)

------

A shove in the side interrupted your thought chain.

"Wake up, cheap strumpet! Or are you thinking about all this 'rides' the blonde one gave you? The one in sunglasses." John's gaze was full of disgust. It was clearly visible, that your co-worker, and student from your class, want to spit in your face really badly. Thankfully, he decided against it.

"We will have clients soon. Reminder, not clients, that you are used to. So get back to normal, respected work."

He growled and left to the kitchen.

You wanted to protest, that it was summer. University was over. Most students left, and the Café wasn't that popular among other town's residents.

no clients means more trouble for you

But you stay silent.

You didn't want to lose your job. You need it.

🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️

Albatross parked his motorcycle not far from Sunset Café. He returned to the Café on his own foot. There was a restaurant on the opposite side of the street. And, because they didn't serve any deserts and only could offer Earl Grey and espresso, it wasn't a competitor with Sunset Café.

From said restaurant you can clearly view Sunset Café, and see, what was happened inside.

Albatross choose the closest table to the window. He sat down, ordered a sandwich and start observing. His friends will join him soon. For now, he must look after you.

He clenched his teeth, when he saw, how that man shoved you. Albatross gad no idea, what he was telling you, but you looked uncomfortable. And silent. You didn't try to protect yourself.

Albatross doesn't understand. Why you were so silent and don't protect yourself? Why you don't ask them for help?

Albatross doesn't have answers yet. But, he promised, that today he will protect you.

And other Flags will help him.

🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️

The interest in you and Albatross quickly died. Well, in you the interest died. Albatross still was discussed. Handsome man, dressed in leather jacket and rugged pants, who can ride a motorcycle, tend to get people's attention.

Life became normal again, aside from people, who would beg you to give them Albatross's number.

But then, another "new" appeared in your life.

Homemade meals.

"I knew, that you can have cake with coffee, but it is not a meal, [Y/N]. It is a snack or a treat. So, hush, and take your bento." Yosano wasn't listening to your protest, putting a lunch container into your bag.

Lunches became a norm for you.

If people saw you eating your own food, they didn't question it. Perhaps, they assumed, that after getting a roommate, you start having more money, enough for not to worry about constant saving and searching for low prices. Or, maybe, some people thought, that Albatross was also cooking for you.

But one day, you forgot your lunch at home.

___________

You were working on filling coffee machine, when John called for you.

"Um... Person, who are filling coffee machine... [Y/N], right?"

You nodded.

you were used for people forgetting your name

"[Y/N]... there is some kind of freak with IV looking for you!" John sounded confused.

IV? Doc?

You walked past confused John. He still looked confused. You could bet, that it was equally, because of Doc's appearance and, because there was another non-professor, who knew your name.

he and other of your co-workers were listening on yours and Doc's meeting

Doc does look interesting. Mostly because of IV and jagged teeth. But, you can quickly get used to said looks.

Doc flashed a toothy grin at you.

it made your co-workers took a step back

Doc raised a hand, and you saw, that he was holding a wrapped up bento.

Your lunch, that you forgot.

"[Y/N], silly little Kindly Care, you forgot your lunch."

You nodded, taking it from him.

"Hello, Doc. Thank you..."

idiot. your stupidity made him walk all the way here to give you food. apologize. Maybe, he won't hate you and would simply despise

"I am so sorry for all troubles I..." You didn't get to finish. Doc chuckled and pet your shoulder. His gaze was warm. He didn't look angry. Only happy.

"Don't worry this pretty little head of yours. It wasn't trouble at all. Hey, how soon your shift will end? Maybe, I can wait for you, and then Albatross, you and I can hang out?"

you can felt burning gazes of your co-workers on your back

You wanted to say 'yes, let's hang out'. But, your shift was far from over. He could probably go home. He will go home.

you aren't worse waiting for...

"I will be free in three hours, Doc... Maybe, you should..." Doc's grin became even bigger.

"Neat. I will wait for you."

Doc sat on the table in far away corner.

And you go back to your co-workers.

_________

They literally pressed you against the wall, trying to get answers.

"Who is this creep?"

"You have another friend?"

"Another roommate?"

"How big the flat is?"

"Is he the one, who is cooking you food?"

"Are you three dating?"

It was difficult, but you escaped from the encirclement. You ignored half of the questions.

"Yes, another roommate. No, we aren't dating. I won't answer any more questions. My personal life is none of your concern."

maybe, if you say something else... this situation would be solved...

(Kasey, another co-worker, whispered 'what they saw in you? What you give them in return for their help?' you ignored her)

Albatross, Doc and you got ice cream after your shift was done.

_____

You were re-filling coffee machine, when you heard steps coming from behind.

Only your reflexes saved you from having coffee spilled all over you. Kasey's voice was dripping with venom.

"What the matter? Aren't you already dirty?"

She left, stepping on your foot in a process.

You bit your tongue.

Just keep it cool. You need this job.

You need your own money.

🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️���‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️

Doc, this time, without his IV, stepped into the restaurant. Albatross waved his hand, without looking away from the Café. Doc sat near his friend.

"Did something bad happened?" asked Doc. Albatross huffed.

"Some guy... John, I think, shoved them. And, yell at them, I guess. [Y/N] looked scared and nervous."

Doc rubbed his temples. He hated all this people, who hurt you.

He saw it. Bruises on your arms.

You assured him, that you were clumsy.

But, doctor and mafioso (especially doctor-mafioso) can see, what bruises came from being clumsy and what was left from being hit.

He didn't blame you for being quiet. In no way it is your fault. But, it was his and others responsibility to protect you.

Because, you are their dear friend.

But, for an hour or two, he still had to wait. He and Albatross need more people to help them.

🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️🧑‍⚕️

People started whispering.

About you, Albatross and Doc.

Some rumors were tossed around.

Still, it wasn't too bad. Albatross, Doc and almost everyone from BSD Cast wasn't too sociable, for now. So, your co-workers and other students can't get more information from them, and you simply refused to talk.

you are too grumpy... you will never have friends... you will always be alone...

But, loneliness can't last forever.

if you are not talking about yourself, of course

BSD Cast wanted to have jobs.

Lippmann was one of the first, who got it.

New actor in a local theater. A new start. New celebrity. Videos with him became viral.

And said start preferred to spend time with a shy, timid student, worker of Sunset Café.

________

Kasey squeaked, when Lippmann, a new celebrity, walked into the Café.

"Y-you..." she looked at him in adoration. Lippmann sent a smile in her direction.

Simple, polite smile.

He read her badge.

"Yes, me. Miss Kasey, can you, please, tell me, where... [Y/N]!" He noticed you, walking with a tray, full of dirty dishes.

Lippmann smiles at you.

Genuine, warm smile. Smile, that was reserved strictly for you.

You tried your best to stay polite and not to lose balance.

"Hello, Lippmann. Good to see you..."

Lippmann immediately was near you, taking away the tray. You didn't even make a sound, when he brought the tray to the kitchen. He returned to you, smiling.

"Well, Star Performer, ready to have lunch together?"

You mentally scolded yourself. Today you had a short day, and would leave the job earlier, than usual. This morning, Lippmann suggested eating lunch together. You were sure, that he was playing a prank on you. But it would be rude to say no. You agreed.

you hopped, that he will show up

you don't deserve them. someone as bad as you should stay from normal people

You nodded. Lippmann grinned.

"Good. I will wait for you to get ready."

"Thanks. I will be ready in a minute." you went to "Employee Only" room to get your bag and change.

_______

Co-workers gathered their courage to talk to Lippmann.

"Do you know them?"

"Do you know two others, that hang out with them?"

"What are they to you?"

Lippmann's answers were empty.

"[Y/N], few other people and I are roommates. I also see [Y/N] as someone close. Please, stop bothering me. I want to pick up my friend and spend the rest of the day with them."

When you returned, Lippmann took your hand and lead you towards the exit, ignoring your co-workers.

They glared at door, that closed behind you two.

If people could do physical damage with their gazes, you would be stabbed multiple times by their gazes.

(Today, all of them took a dive on social media. Trying to find more people, who knew you. They started with Lippmann socials.)

It was the point of no return

__________

You only wanted to have lunch.

You choose an empty table and was ready to dig in into red bean chazuke (thank you, Mori), when someone slammed a hand on the table before you.

Max, baker, were glaring at you. They were older than you, and not a student anymore. But, they were a star student, back there, and still honored the university traditions.

And they were furious at you.

Because of what people thought you were doing.

"You have no idea, how you disgust me. You are a disgrace to the university." they spit. They grabbed your lunch box and threw it down. Food spilled on the ground. You cowered in fear.

Max spit on the floor.

"Clean it up. Or eat it right from the floor. Livestock aren't allowed to eat as normal humans."

You blinked away your tears.

Hold on...

Just hold on...

You need money...

To pay rent...

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Doc and Albatross had to hold down Lippmann (and themselves) from marching down to the Café and do something really nasty to the bastard.

Lippmann breathed in and out.

"Why... Why they are hurting [Y/N]? For what sick entertainment?" mumbles Lippmann, tapping fingers against the table. Albatross and Doc didn't answer. They don't need to.

Lippmann closed his eyes. He hated not doing anything.

But, he needs to wait for a bit more. To get more evidence.

He remembered about some of the messages he received on his socials.

About how good you are in... "under the table" job. How much will it cost. If he is disgusted by you.

He simply thought, that it was trolls or haters, who just saw your photos on his page.

But, what if this people knew you and him in real life?

Lippmann breathed in again.

You were the only good part of the Real World. Other real people were huge bastards. He must protect you.

His precious Star Performer.

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

They found photos.

Photos with you and BSD Cast.

With all of them calling you a great friend and roommate.

There were some videos.

About you being happy to get a gift or hanging out with them.

Fellow students and co-workers don't understand.

How a quiet, timid, shy nerd could get so much attention? Especially from new big businessmen and businesswoman?

They drew the only "logical" conclusion.

You were selling your body.

Now you weren't nameless anymore.

No, now you have many names.

Cheap, livestock, thing, toy... To call the least explicit.

And harassment came.

They didn't harass you on The Internet or tried to cross the line.

Thay said, that dirt wasn't worth to get in jail or any legal troubles. But they left notes, were rude, yelled at you, shoved you. Some people send complaints to the university.

They didn't want to be near you.

Professors didn't do anything. You were grown-ups, can deal with your own problems. But they asked all of you to be quiet. So you won't ruin the university's image of a prestigious, place with good students.

you were ruining not only BSD's Cast reputation. you are ruining university's reputation

Café's manager didn't do anything. Deal with it on your own. But he demand, that you deal with it not in front of the clients. And promised to fire you, if you start a scandal.

You tried to fight. You tried to explain. Show some of your messages with Oda, Mori, Nikolai, Fukuzawa and Fitzgerald.

But there was no way for you to prove, that you and BSD Cast were just friends.

"You have a second phone, where the evidence are!"

"I don't know, what is more disgusting. The number of your 'roommares'.or their ages."

"Don't come near. You are a freak without any morals."

was it your fault?did you deserve it? if you had friends in university, maybe you would...

there was no use in crying over spilled milk

you simply must move on

summer is soon

after holidays, they will forget about you

_______

You and Piano Man were feeding ducks in local park. Both of you were silent.

Silence was comfortable.

And then Piano Man spoke.

"[Y/N]... Rare Coin, can I ask you something?" his tone was gentle. You threw more seeds into the lake, before answering.

"Ask away." You smiled shyly. It's been three months since BSD Cast appeared in this world, in your life.

It felt good to have friendly conversations.

it was nice to have friends

Piano Man licked his lips, before speaking.

"[Y/N], are you alright? You looked... sad for the last few days. Did something happen? Can we help you?"

You froze.

they will hate you. you are ruining their reputation. LIE

"Everything is fine! I just worried about my finals!" a fake smile appeared on your face. Piano Man crooked an eyebrow.

"Kunikida said, that you are doing great. Or are you afraid of getting Not "100 points" but "99.99 points"?"

You nervously nodded.

"I always worried about my finals..."

Piano Man still didn't look convinced.

"And how your relationship with other students and co-workers?"

You swallow. You felt, iike a rock fall down your stomach.

"It's fine. They not really interested in me. I am just another student."

Piano Man looked at you for few moments. He clearly wanted to ask more questions, but decided to drop the subject.

"Fine. I will believe you. But, please, if you have troubles, talk to us. We care about you. We will help you."

You mumble something under your breath.

they will hate you for lying. idiot. go back to your books

Piano Man threw remaining seeds to the ducks. He held his hand towards you.

"Let's go and buy some groceries. Goncharov promised to cook stew for dinner."

_________

You had a headache. You just wanted this day to be over. You wanted to go home. To stay far away from the Café and University. From students.

They were glaring at you. They hated you.

Duncan, your manager, was towering over you. He bared his teeth and hissed.

"I promise you, you won't stay here for tool long. I will make sure, that you will be fired. Who knew, what diseases you are carrying around. I don't want to have my life ruined because of your debauchery."

You close your eyes. You are hated, because of stupid rumors.

And you can't ask anyone for help.

you aren't important enough to be a burden

to ask for help

you want to cry

you fight the urge

don't show weakness

you need this job

to pay rent

to keep your old apartment

The Café door was opened.

🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹

Piano Man didn't walk into the restaurant. He simply stopped before restaurant window and waved his hand, showing Albatross, Doc and Lippmann, that it was time.

Piano Man kept looking at the Café. At place, where you were working. At place, where you were harassed.

He clenched his fists.

He remembered, how you were acting during last finals. They still were in their world, but they could tell, that you weren't panicking or having a meltdown...

And about students.

There was one thing, that concern not only Piano Man, but all members of BSD Cast.

How empty your list of messages were.

Chat with parents. Chat for your group of students. Chat for all university students (only reading, where students can't post). Chat for Sunset Café workers.

And you hardly interacted with any if the chats.

It would be a good thing, if your parents write even one in a month.

Students in a chat ignored you, if you try to ask something, making you send the message multiple times.

Workers in a café left you on read for a good chunk of time, answering the last moment.

And even after they appeared in this world, they didn't see you hanging with someone else, exept them.

Were you bullied? No, not a correct term.

Piano Man remembered bruises. Bruises, that, according to you, came from falling down.

You were harrassed.

How dare they hurt you?

"[Y/N], don't worry, dear, we will protect you."

You were shy, kind, clever and adorable. Yet, some bastards thought, that they can hurt you. They were wrong.

And Flags will show them, how wrong they were.

"Ready?" asked his friends.

Three "Ready" were his answers.

Ice Man just walked into the café. Piano Man moved forward. Doc, Albatross and Lippmann followed after him.

🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹🎹

Duncan was too absorbed in scoffing at you. He didn't notice, how Iceman walked into a café.

Your other co-workers, however, saw his. And tried to stay as far away as they can.

Iceman was a good man. Soft-spoken and kind. He often invites you to drink coffee together, while listening to some of his records.

But he does have an overwhelming presence. With a scar running down his right eye and emotionless face, tall /hit/ man didn't look like an embodiment of friendship.

Duncan continues to spit insults at you.

"You are everything, that is wrong with your generation. You have no honor or any idea, how normal human beings should behave in society!"

You turned away and tried not to pay attention. You failed. Duncan's yells were loud.

Shouts of approval were heard from different parts of the café. Iceman may have looked scary, but people can't pass up the chance to rub your face in your 'inappropriate' behavior.

With a corner of your eye you saw, how Iceman picked up one of the vases, that was standing on each table and had flowers put in it. With vase in hand, Iceman continue walking to Duncan and you.

You shake your head, trying to stop Iceman from doing what he wanted to do.

you don't need troubles at work!

Door opened again.

The Rest of the Flags walked inside. You have a bad feeling about this.

Duncan's loud howls were interrupted by a soft ringing sound. The fiery speaker fell and hit his face against the floor.

Behind him was Iceman with the most repentant expression on his face. But a sly smile was ruining the image.

"I'm so clumsy!" Iceman “apologized,” pointing with his hand at the glass shards of the vase and the scattered flowers, that were lying on the floor.

“But, honestly, he is such a disgusting guy. It was time for him to shut up.”

Your co-workers realized, what happened just at the end of the speech, and the last words Iceman spoke crouching. A tray of dirty dishes, which Max threw from the kitchen door, passed over his head. The tray flew further and landed on John's head, who tried to escape at the wrong time.

The dishes' life came to an end.

The joyful cry “Get them!” that came from Albatross, announced that the calm day was ruined completely, irrevocably and for everyone at once.

Iceman, with a confident, clearly practiced movement, grabbed surprised you, and threw you behind the counter.

In the café, meanwhile, Piano Man was steadily dipping Max into a bucket of dirty water, Doc was methodically beating John with a rolling pin. Iceman jumped over the tables, running from Steve, the only guard who was already out of breath. Lippmann, who had stolen a frying pan from the kitchen in the midst of a fight, was reprimanding something to the conscious Duncan, reinforcing his words with blows from the frying pan. Albatross throw Kasey onto the counter, and, grabbing her by the collar, began dragging her back and forth.

You didn't know what to do. You were never in a fight before, and, if you stand up, you could become an easy target, putting Flags in disadvantage.

Albatross dragged Kasey away from the counter, so he can deal with another waiter at the same time, and you take a better look at what was going on.

Right that moment, Iceman and Steve ran past the counter, and Steve was close to catching Iceman.

You can't let him hurt your friend!

You grabbed a bottle of vanilla syrup and hit Steve with it.

The guard was now cowered in sticky substance.

And owner finally decided to check on what was going on.

_________

You were standing outside Sunset Café, holding your bag.

Flags brought enough money to pay for all the damage they caused. Owner agreed not to press charges.

But you were fired. You were the reason for a fight. Flags didn't hide, that they saw you being harassed by your former co-workers, and they simply can't let them continue that.

Flags said, that they have proofs. And thanks for that, Max, Duncan, Kasey, John, Steve and others won't press charges.

it is your fault your fault you almost get Flags in trouble

You didn't know what to feel.

You won't be harassed anymore.

But you lose a job. And other places in this town aren't interested in hiring students.

And you need the job

You need money

To keep your old apartment

So you will have...

"[Y/N]? Are you okay? " Iceman's soft voice sounded right above your ear. You looked up at him at the rest of the Flags, who were standing behind him. All of them looked guilty. Iceman spoke again.

"[Y/N], we are sorry, that you have lost your job. But, please, understand, that we couldn't just let some idiots harassed you. We wanted to protect you."

Flags nodded in agreement.

You open your mouth and said the truth.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. And don't worry about my job. I will find another one"

you wanted this. friends, that will protect you. someone, you can protect

Albatross jumped closer to you and put his arm around your shoulders.

"That's the spirit! So, want to grab a bite, before going home?"

Without waiting for your answer, he led you away from Sunset Café. Flags followed after you two.

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

Iceman walked behind you. And he was observing. He was glad, that you were safe now. But your attitude... What was going on? Why you let others walked over you?

Right now, you looked happy. But, what if one day... Because of other students...

Iceman whispered.

"We need to discuss it with others. Something is still wrong with Snowflake."

Piano Man, the only one, who heard him, nodded in agreement.

Iceman continue observing you. Albatross was recalling the best moments of the fight, and how cool you were, hitting the guard with a bottle.

You looked embarrassed, but you also participate in conversation.

For now, everything was good.

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

You were half-way to the diner, Flags have chosen to grab a bite.

Your last paycheck felt heavy in your pocket.

Last money you earned.

You will spend them on a rent.

On your old apartment, that BSD Cast thought you left permanently.

Because you need this apartment.

Because, after BSD Cast will see, how boring and stupid you are, they will leave. And you will need a place to return to.

But for now, you will simply enjoy your lunch with Flags.

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi, I would love recs for mclennon fics dripping in sexual tension, like six hours in August by stonedlennon. It doesn't need to have explicit sexual content. Thank you!

Thank you so, so much for this ask—this is a category of fiction I personally enjoy *a lot* (imagine Paul's "I slept with John..." pronunciation).

Here are some favorites that came to my mind. Some have sex on the page, others do not; I remember all of these as having excellent Tension™. I hope you find something you like here! Young J/P:

Streets of Your Town (@with-eyes-closed): Sensual. The upheaval in young Paul's mind as he falls in love with music and John, without putting a name to it. As of yet unfinished, but it's so good I rec it anyway, because it's...[read to find out, take a fan]

All I Know Since Yesterday (RedheadAmongWolves): Paul and John's first kiss at Paul's, after long, sweet hours of trembling fear/excitement. Paul POV.

The Way Things Sometimes Are (@paisanas): Young John is troubled and pining for Paul. Paul is mesmerizing through his eyes.

now and then (there's a fool such as I) (@stonedlennon): The Nerk Twins take the bus to Caversham and share a bed. You can smell the summer grass and the sweaty leathers...

(Ain't no cure for the) summertime blues (orphan_account): John and Paul alone on a hot summer day.

The Photograph (thinkpink20): John finds a Photograph Mike took of Paul and notices...things.

Hamburg:

ageless children, animal sweat (eyeball2eyeball): Read this story to spend time in John's throbbing, unhinged Hamburg mind. No sex on the page, and yet. It's *everywhere*. For such a short story, it takes up a lot of room in my brain. The Paul in this story is one of my favorite Pauls.

Sinful City (thinkpink20). Days and Nights in Hamburg. Paul needs John, and stops questioning things.

In Margaret Asher's music room:

Tell You Something (@louiselux). Lennon and McCartney write "I Want to Hold Your Hand." The tension rises.

In or near Paul's Geodesic Dome:

shotgunning (@pauls1967moustache): John and Paul languidly try something new...

Chrysalis (cloudy_blue): Tension in 1967. Hypnotic and stylish, I love it.

Stop all the Clocks (@javelinbk): After Brian's death, John and Paul retreat to Scotland. Grief and awakening ensue...slowly and sweetly.

Greece:

Way Up Top (@boshemians). Snapshots of J/P desire and spiraling doubts, contained in the Beatles' trip to Greece to buy an island.

Nineteen Sixty-Eight:

Outro (bakerstreetafternoon). From the Summary: 'Had it been this tension that had kept them together? Had it always?'

Bad Luck to Talk (7intheevening): Paul chats with JohnandYoko at a party and follows them home for a cup of tea. What hurts more exquisitly than pining? Unacknowledged pining.

John I'm Only Dancing (@skylikeaflame): Amidst the insanity of the Mad Day Out, desire erupts relentlessly.

The 70's as they should have been:

Down on the Farm (RosalindBeatrice): Incredibly hot and realistic (and funny in just right amounts!). John visits Paul in Nashville; Paul shows off Wings and the family, John stays the night. Dot dot dot.

I can only speak my mind (@paisanas): John's diaries are leaked to the press and printed; Paul reads them. What follows is the sexual awakening of James Paul McCartney as he reads of John's feelings for him. First rate pining, past and present.

I still miss someone/ I know that I miss you, but I don't know where I stand/ close the door lightly when you go (RosalindBeatrice): John and Paul meet in 1976. There is a spark. Few and far between meetings follow.

The Other Eighties (John lives and experiences sexual tension with Paul):

and when broken bodies are washed ashore (who am i to ask for more) (wardo wedidit): John divorces Yoko and visits Paul in Scotland. Soul searching and relationship mending.

The Birthday Party (@merseydreams): John and Paul meet at Ringo's Birthday Party. There is only one bed.

Tension through the Years:

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes (@savageandwise). John is turned on by Paul smoking. 1958—1969.

[gingernut1314]

Truth or Dare?

Nami x GN!Reader

Summary: When you fall heavily injured, you resort to the familiar game of truth or dare to let Nami know how you feel about her.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, anime spoilers (Whisky Peak Arc, Alabasta Arc; episodes 117 and 118)

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I've been going through a little bit of writer's block recently so sorry for being so inactive, but I've wanted to write this for a little while so here it is! This is my first time writing for Nami so I hope you all enjoy!

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“Truth or dare?” You breathed out in a voice just below a whisper. Nami pulled her blue eyes up from what she had been doing and locked onto yours. Blue eyes that had begun to water--that never filled with tears unless something was truly wrong. 

And that something wrong being the gaping gash dealt to your stomach by that spiky, spider woman that had been chasing you both through the streets of Alubarna. 

Nami shook her head full of orange hair, which you wished to run your fingers through its short length. The golden hair clip she had just bought must have fallen out while you two had been fighting for your lives. 

You watched her try to steal herself against the fear you had no doubt was waging within her and found you wished she would show you her fear--show you every emotion she was feeling in that moment so you could properly care for her.  

“No.” She said firmly.

“No?” You questioned with a chuckle that turned into a hissing wince when Nami pressed her hand tighter over your wound, trying desperately to slow the bleeding. “You can’t say no. That’s the rules.” Nami shook her head again more forcefully. 

“Well, I’m changing the rules. I’m not going to play this game when--” Her voice quivered, those vast eyes that always reminded you of a crystal blue lake shining in the sunlight nearly overflowing with tears. Tears for you.

You remember when you had first seen her lake-blue eyes. First took in their utter depths. 

You had been a Broquet Works agent based in Whiskey Peak--had been assigned to kill off the Straw Hats with the other agents stationed in that town. Had been ready and more than willing to help kill them off, but then you had seen those eyes--so bright and calculating--and knew instantly it would be a more difficult task than you had originally thought. 

You had been the first to greet the woman, besides the likes of Mr. 8. Had made an utter fool of yourself in doing so, but you hadn’t cared because she had laughed at your horrible and flirty jokes. Had outdrank you without so much as breaking a sweat and it enthralled you. 

She had won over your heart with just a few laughs and witty quips. Had won you over so much so that you had turned your back on your organization, despite knowing your death would be painful and bloody. You guarded over her and her passed-out crew after dark. Had protected her despite the horrendous wounds you had received from your fellow agents. 

After much convincing, you had been allowed to join the Straw Hats on their journey to Alabasta under the rouse of wishing to help protect the recently revealed princess from other-like Broquet Works members. Though, that was far from the truth. 

You and Nami had started this game of truth or dare when you had made it to Little Garden. You, Nami, and Usopp had been wandering around in the jungle when you had offered the familiar question her way. 

She had still been very distrustful of you then, but she had humored you. At some point during your voyage through the Grand Line, you think she stopped merely humoring you and began actually enjoying the game. Enjoyed it so much she had begun starting before you could get the chance. 

You played the game on nights neither of you could sleep. During boring and long days of endless sailing. You had played it when she fell sick and when you were injured yet again by some horrible king on a snowy island.

It was how you managed to grow closer to her. To learn of her haunting childhood and near enslavement to that horrid Fishman from the East Blue. It’s how she had learned your real name and your own haunting childhood. 

And you had fallen stupidly for her. Had probably fallen for her the moment you laid eyes on her. Anyone else in Whiskey Peak would have called you foolish for giving up everything you had worked for just to follow some woman who might never like you back, but you didn’t care. 

You would do it over and over again. Would get beaten down, stabbed, and shot at all over again because you couldn’t imagine your life without the strong-willed, fiery-tempered, and kind-hearted woman kneeling next to you.

“Come on, sunshine. Please?” You asked, pulling a playful smirk to your lips that Nami wouldn’t meet. 

“Fine. I dare you to shut up and not die.” Nami hissed, those pools of blue spilling over her cheeks despite her angered gruff at it. You chuckled, wiping away one of those hot trails from her slightly sunburnt cheeks.

“I was hoping to say a truth.” Nami shook her head once more, pulling away from your grasp. She looked away from you, turning to peek her head out of the large hole in the brick townhome you two had hidden away in. “Nami--sunshine--”

“Stop.” She hissed, whipping her burning gaze back onto you. “Stop it. You can’t break the dare until I say so, so shut up.” Another stray tear fell over her dirty, scratched-up cheeks.

“If you get to bend the rules today, I think I get to bend them too--just a little bit.” You said, trying to keep your tone light despite the darkness of your situation. Nami gave a frustrated little sound that came out sadder than you think she had wanted it to. 

“You’re not going to die.” She insisted, telling you like it was a fact. And maybe it would turn out to be fact, but at the rate you were losing blood and the knowledge that Chopper was probably miles away made it seem less likely to happen. You kept your playful smirk on your lips as you grabbed for her hand, holding it gently.   

“Ask me why I paid you all that berry to board your ship.” More tears streaked down her cheeks, her bottom lip sucking into her mouth to keep from letting any sort of sound escape her. She shook her head again and you chuckled, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. 

“I didn’t care about getting Vivi here safely. I didn’t care that I was turning my back on my work and that I was signing my own death warrant. I didn’t care because I was following you. I wanted to be by you.” 

“Stop.” Her voice came out watery. So small and weak. She was begging you. Begging you to just shut up like she had dared you to and get better. 

But you wanted her to know--needed her to know. 

“It's the only reason I started this stupid game in the first place. I wanted to know you better.” You said on a laugh that turned wincing as another wave of pain washed through you. Nami went to try and stop you from speaking again, but you beat her to it. “And I--I like you. I like your laugh and your eyes and your smile. I like watching you talk about your maps because you are just so passionate about them. Hell--I only pretend to hate reading to get on your nerves 'cause you look too cute all mad.” Nami huffed a small, saddened laugh.

“You shouldn’t have said that. I’m going to make you read all my books now.” You nodded, allowing her to keep hoping for the future after this. Allowed yourself, for just a second, to do the same. To think about you laying your head in her lap as she read you one of the many books in her collection.

“You’re--you’re really special to me.” You felt your own eyes begin to sting. Felt your throat tighten against the swell of emotion rocketing through you. “And I want you to know that. You--you’ve made me a better person…saved me from my darkness.” 

Nami moved herself closer to you, sniffing back her tears. You gladly allowed her presence into your atmosphere--allowed her to lay her forehead on yours. Closing your eyes, you took in her warmth and the smell of that overly expensive perfume you had bought her the other day in the marketplace. 

You brought your blood-covered hand up to caress her cheek, holding her closer. Holding her for a moment that might very well be the last. 

Fight it. You needed to fight it. Fight to stay alive--for her. 

The chilling sound of Miss. Doublefinger's voice calling for you both echoed through the deserted street you were on. Nami tensed against your hold, eyes snapping open in fear. 

You needed to protect her. 

You needed to keep her away from that woman…but you could hardly feel your legs, let alone move with the amount of pain you were in. But you would do it--you would crawl and let that spider trap you like some fly. Let her strike you down just to give Nami enough time to run and find the others.

“I’m going to get you out of here. Okay?” Nami said and you watched her push her sadness and fear down. Watched her pull that confidence and courage she held within herself, whether it be fake or true, up. 

Painc, rapid and tight, shot through your chest.

“What? No--”

“Truth or dare?” She asked, pulling her forehead from yours. You shook your head as she moved your hands to place them over your wound. 

Tears did fill your eyes then. Tears of fear for her. Because you knew Nami could handle herself, but even you had fallen prey to that spider’s sting. You had made peace with death a long time ago, but you had hardly made peace for her. Wanted death far, far away from her. 

“Nami--” You started, pulling out of her guiding movements to grab hold of her wrist, keeping her from leaving. “I’m supposed to protect you. I want to protect you. Whether I die--” 

“Truth or dare?” She insisted strictly, leaving you speechless.

“Truth.” She smiled through her sadness and fear. 

“How long do you think Usopp's weapon is going to hold against her?” You huffed, pulling yourself off the wall Nami had leaned you against, spying the blue, three-pieced metal staff strapped to her hip. 

“A minute--if it doesn’t break before you even get a chance to use it--which is why I’m going out there and not you.” You insisted just as strictly.

“Truth or dare?” Nami asked once more, dismissing your continued denial of her fighting that spider. 

“Nami--” She fixed you with a strict look that had you huffing in frustration.

“Pick dare.” You furrowed your brow in confusion at her. “Come on, pick. She’s getting closer.” You huffed. And huffed again before giving in to her request.

“Dare.” 

“I…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, something like nerves filling her eyes. “I dare you to kiss me.” Your mouth fell open to speak--to keep fighting to keep her from leaving your side--but Nami gave you that confident smile of hers as she brushed her blood-covered fingers over your cheek. A touch you unconsciously lend into. “Are we still bending rules?” You huffed a laugh that fell just as quick. 

She leaned in, her deep, blue eyes searching your own. Eyes that, though still held that fear in them, were calm. Ready--sure and steady. Eyes you had fallen in love with over and over again. 

You pulled her closer by the wrist you still held, your other hand cupping her cheek to guide her lips against yours. Lips you had wished to kiss ever since she had first laughed at your bad joke. Lips that were sweet, yet just a little chapped from the desert sand that had been thrown at you like a weapon earlier that day. 

It was a kiss you pressed all your love into. A kiss you used to try and communicate every last little adoration you held to her. A kiss you prayed would keep her from leaving you--to keep her from facing death. 

Nami pulled away all too soon, her soft breaths brushing over your cheeks as she rested her forehead against yours. She kept her eyes screwed shut, fresh tears having sprung to life beneath her bare eyelids. 

“Plea--please don’t go. I’m okay. I’ll keep you safe.” You tried, but Nami shook her head, her eyes opening once more. She removed your hand from her cheek and replaced it over your wound, making it sting in the process. 

“You’re not okay and if you face her again, she’ll kill you. Just--stay here. I’m going to find help.” 

Click, click, click went Miss. Doublefinger's heels as she passed by the row of townhouses you two were hidden in. You both held your breathes as the clicking grew more faint with each passing second. Seconds you spent taking in her face--such a beautiful face you hadn’t looked at nearly as much as you should have.

“Don’t--” Nami cut you off with one last kiss. A kiss that was meant as a bitter-sweet promise. A promise of her return to you--though a return to you how and in what shape was unknown. A big unknown that pulled at your heart and had you holding her wrist tighter.

“I dare you to stay put--no more bending the rules,” She said, giving you her best confident smile and wink as she grabbed for the strange weapon Usopp had built her, called the Clima-tact.

“Nami--” But she pulled from your fingers as she snuck away out of the townhome, leaving you utterly alone with the dark and dust. 

The sound of buildings crashing, people screaming, and the wind howling only made your fear grow and grow with each passing minute. Had you gritting your teeth against your pain and dragging yourself from the spot Nami had left you in. 

That had been a very bad decision on your part because as soon as you made it to the exit, your vision began dotting with black. Black that filled your eyes and left you in a blinding sea of pitch-black pain. 

Your vision returned, though rather foggy, with the feel of gentle fingers caressing your cheeks. Orange hair and lake-blue eyes shined down at you like some angel--gods she was a sight to see, even covered in dirt as she was.

“I said no more bending the rules.” Nami huffed, eyes watching you narrowly before looking behind herself to call for Zoro, who she must have found while you were passed out. 

“You’re hurt.” You said, running a shaky finger over her shoulder, having spotted the fresh blood on her sunkissed skin. Her blue eyes found yours again, though softener than they had been. More--fearfilled.  

“She was--strong. Scary. But you were wrong.” You furrowed your brows up at her as Zoro’s tall shadow fell over you both, blocking the sun from your blurry eyes.

“Wrong? That she was a bitch? No.” Nami rolled her eyes, an amused huff of air leaving her. 

“No. The Clima-tact lasted longer than a minute. It took her down.” She said, pointing towards a smoking townhouse that had a strange, Miss. Doublefinger-sized hole in its side. 

“Truth or dare?” You breathed, looking back up to Nami who was already watching you. 

“Dare.” She smirked, a laugh spilling from your chest as you grabbed her neck in a gentle hold, pulling her down to claim her lips against yours. She kissed you back eagerly. A kiss that fulfilled the silent promise she had given you earlier.

You heard Zoro gruff something about not having time for this, which only spur Nami to pull away, pissed.

“You’re carrying both of us now.” She hissed up at the swordsmen who groaned in his own annoyance.

Tag List: @thesleepiestbearcub , @fanaticsnail

[barrenclan]

ok ONE more music ask bc i think this is the third one i’ve submitted for the new issue so far:

so i went back & read issue 37 while listening to “drunk walk home” by mitski (both the original and the live at palisades version), timing my reading with the listening so that certain panels & passages would line up with the right points in the song, and dear. fucking. LORD. i wanna make a rainhaze pmv with this so badly. the only question is which version of the song to use

so the best way i can explain it:

*drumbeat intro* - the title page

“i will retire to the salton sea/at the age of 23” - that comic panel at the beginning showing how much he changed

“for i’ve started to learn i may never be free/but though I may never be free/fuck you and your money/i’m tired of your money” - idk exactly how it’d line up with the issue but something something him being influenced by defiance & ranger, something something “you can love someone and still hate/hurt them”

*guitar picks up* - the canine realization and/or slug’s reaction to the murder reveal. some combination of the two.

“and i sit on the curb ‘cause it’s the prettiest night/with no one else in sight/don’t you know i wore this dress for you/these killer heels for you” - rain gets all defensive & tries to justify the murder with the sleep thing & the hypocrisy

“see the dark, it moves/with every breath of the breeze” (+ the buildup before the guitar solo) - “convince them…okay”

*guitar solo* - slug attacks him, big fight scene

and of course the screaming at the end correlates to him screaming as he’s gutted like a baked potato

Nice!! I always love how much thought you put into song choices.

As a Johnny Cash enjoyer I must say I do prefer his cover but of course I love Nine Inch Nails too. More dark and gritty does fit Rainhaze better.

I've never actually listened to or seen Repo, but it does seem like something that would be up my alley. It does fit him too, driving in what he's done and forcing him to remember killing Asphodelpaw.

I remember every dying whisper Every desperate murmur I remember when I gaze upon her She looks just like you I remember, I remember

I like this from Rainhaze's perspective, like he's constantly trying to guess what Ranger wants from him, how much he has to hurt himself to please Ranger.

The waves suck you in then you drown If like, you'd just stay down with me I'll swim down with you Is that what you want?

You hang the anchors over my neck (Saw your end) I liked it at first but the more you laughed The crazier I became

Haha aww, Pinepaw.

I lost some weight from anxious pacing talking on the telephone If I look cool I'm fooling you At any point you can assume My mind's computing every path that screws up what I wanna do

The things that I can't shoulder well I pass onto my older self And hope I learn to cope so I don't end up broke or overwhelmed 'Cause vocally, I'm not the best

Poinsettia is an interesting pull, but I can see it. I hate to say Rainhaze once again but yknow... kinda Rainhaze...

The feelings of regret And now I'm running to forget But know, the consequence of imagination's fear I met a man downtown the other day With ruby eyes that took my life away

Thе antidote we look so hard to find To purge yourself of fear, relax your mind But heaven only knows Where my mind leads, the feeling grows

Someone has actually recently made an incredible animatic set to Ptolemaea, actually! You can see it here.

That's alright, I usually do all the lyric quoting!

Pick up another cigarette Smoke it now and soon you'll forget If only your silver lining had better timing 'Cause there's no crown for one on the way down

Your dull blade and your dusty attire Can bring back all those burning desires So go back to the pit or roll over

I'd love to see the animation if you ever make it! It does have big synergy with "The Death of BarrenClan" event.

Heed the sirens, take shelter, my lover Flee the fire that devours But the sight held me fixed like a bayonet against my throat

It was a pale white horse With a crooked smile And I knew it was my time

Not a song in the world that doesn't make me think of Rainhaze... anyways, I always like a good Hoosiers song.

Everything you love turns to dust, You'd make more of it but you felt rushed By all that's periphery, You held tight, but on the contrary

Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it, Don't look your life passed you by, 'Cause you're too attached to it

[rosewater-28]

could you please write a headcannon abt hogwarts common rooms?

Hi, you are the first person to ask me a question, so thank you very much for your interest in my blog. 😊 I hope you enjoy the headcanons:

-As you know, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have a staircase/rappel to keep the boys out of the girls' rooms. Well, once upon a time, two friends, one from each of these houses, decided to test this mechanism. One of them mentioned this "experiment" to his friend and she told him the idea she had. Later, the girl piggybacked the boy up the stairs and they arrived at the top of the stairs vividly, but as soon as the boy took a step forward, an invisible force sent him rolling down the stairs. Then, the other friend, decided to do the experiment in a different way, he took a rope and asked one of the girls to tie it to one of the poles at the top of the stairs, so that when the stairs turned into a ramp, he would be attached to the rope and wouldn't fall, but gess what, the pole broke. Not the rope, the pole. (This was probably because the whole area around the ladder was haunted, including the pole). Moral: don't challenge the stairs/ramp: they will do their best to ban you.

-Once a Ravenclaw boy tried to enter the girls' rooms by putting on an invisibility cloak so that the two suits of armour would not detect his presence. However, they did. Not being visible, the boy was detected later than usual and ended up in the infirmary with severe cuts. Moral of the story: don't try to fool the armour if you don't want to stay in bed for three weeks and get a reprimand from the teachers.

-Many students who love animals and magical creatures ask their Slytherin friends to come into their common room to watch or take pictures of the magnificent creatures that pass in front of the glass overlooking the Lake.

-In Hufflepuff house there are a lot of blankets and nobody knows why. But still no one complains, especially the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students, who sleep in the towers and get very cold, and always end up asking the Hufflepuff students to lend them some of those warm, puffy blankets.

-A Hogwarts student from Gryffindor was about to enter his house when the Fat Lady in the painting hurled one of her usual insults at him. Apparently, the student was not in a very good mood that day, because he hurled a string of expletives at the lady, who refused to let him in.

-Something similar happened at the Ravenclaw house entrance. We all know that there have been times when a student has been left out of the house because they couldn't guess the riddle. Well, once, for a whole week, none of the members of the house were able to guess the damn riddle, causing all these students to be scattered at the foot of the stairs after curfew. The worst thing was that when the prefect went to ask the teachers for help, they refused to give them a place to sleep and told them that it was their responsibility to go into the house or not. Guess who started shouting in front of the entrances of the other houses in the middle of the night to get the other students to let them in?

-A group of Slytherin students came up with the idea of testing the strength of the glass that separated their main hall from the Lake. They cast a bunch of spells, but none of them seemed to work, until the glass began to shake. The students moved a little away from the glass, fearful that it would break. But the truth is that the shaking was not caused by anything the students had done, but by one of the giant creatures that inhabited the Lake and that had had enough of the rattling noises (due to the spells) spreading throughout the Lake. So imagine the look on the students' faces when a colossal, angry sea monster smashed through the glass. I think some of them are still traumatised.

Hope you liked it. 😁

[lostinforestbound]

What's that? More Dark!Rolan on the horizon?? Here we are! (As always, this is based of @slumpsnail's art and is also my main inspiration!) This is a prequel to my first Dark!Rolan post!

Death of a Master

CW: Physical Abuse, Intrusive Thoughts (Gore, Eye trauma, Killing), Acting upon Intrusive Thought

His eyes are wide and teary as his chest heaves, trying to catch breaths that don’t quite come. It hurts to breathe, the strike from Lorroakan’s staff almost breaking his ribs. His master is careful, coldly calculating each strike to make sure nothing will break but make it hurt all the same, to make him writhe on the floor.

If Cal and Lia were still alive and able to witness this, what would they say? What would his mother say? That he’s pathetic, letting himself be treated like an unwanted dog? No, they were always kinder than that, even when he didn't deserve it.

He’s too scared to cry out for help. He's too prideful. It would only lead to another strike either way.

Usually he can grit through the sessions, grind his teeth and say nothing. His motivation is fueled by stubbornness, spite, and rage. But gods, Lorroakan might kill him this time, especially if he casts detect thoughts again.

He’s been having dreams of killing him in different ways. Drowning, tearing out his organs, setting him ablaze, choking him; his imagination knows no bounds. Last night, his dream self gouged his eyes out, digging his claws into the sockets until he stopped screaming. These wayward, unwanted thoughts were haunting him as he walked, nipping at the edges of his mind when he least suspected it. He’s becoming terrified of himself, and he has no one to confide in. When did he become so comfortable with the thought of killing someone?

When he wakes, he always hopes that Lorroakan died in his sleep. Maybe then he would have peace. When his mentor uses a Command Spell on him to make him kneel, he hopes the animated armor who stands guard strikes him through the heart.

The weave crackles, and he recognizes the detect thoughts spell trying to reach to the deepest parts of his mind. Like a fool, he mentally blocks it out with a grimace.

That was the worst mistake he’s made thus far.

“You dare resist me?” Lorroakan spits as Rolan shakily gets to his knees, wanting to run.

“Master, forgive me-“ He gasps, but is cut off with a harsh hit to the jaw by the metal staff, sending him back down to the ground. As always, nothing is broken, but hells, it hurts.

Blood spittles out from his mouth and into the floor, knowing better than trying to stand. If Lorroakan sees him trying to get back up, he’ll hit him again. Part of him hoped that someone would walk in and interrupt, giving him a small break to regroup himself.

No one will help him. When has anybody ever?

He’s going to die here. Pathetic and alone with no one that will miss him when he’s gone. Another failed apprentice, another nameless wizard. What has he done so wrong in a past life that resulted in being tortured in this one? Why wouldn’t the gods listen to him when he prayed for his siblings safety, so long ago? What have Cal and Lia ever done that they deserved to be turned into shadows?

So many questions are left unanswered, and he’s nothing but a shaking mess. Usually he shook from anger, though in the face of death, fear clasped around his throat, threatening to choke him.

“All you ever ask for is forgiveness. Maybe if you done right by me for once in your useless life, you would not have to ask for it, Tiefling.” Lorroakan sneers, hovering over him.

“Forgive me, Master.” He repeats, voice rasping.

The staff drags across the ground as he circles him. “There you are again! Forgive me this, forgive me that…you disgust me, do you know that? I don’t know why I decided to take you on as my apprentice.”

His tongue is useless as he tries to come up with a reason that he’s good enough. His spells are incredible, he knows that deep in his heart, but he needs training to perfect them. He hasn’t learned a damn thing yet because of these punishments.

The realization hits him like a falling boulder, making his ears ring. Lorroakan is never going to teach him anything. He’s only here to be a plaything. Someone he can beat to make himself feel superior, more powerful.

He’s been a fool, and he barely hears the “let’s try this again” from his teacher.

He cries out when the weave forcibly enters his mind, a splitting headache tearing through him that renders him speechless again. His master is not even trying to hide that he’s searching for something to leech onto. A cold chill rushes through him as he pins down a thought, heart nearly stopping.

There it was, a nightmare he could not hide as it was still fresh in his mind. Lorroakan, dead on the ground with his throat torn open.

Rolan is paralyzed, and he does not see the brief fear that flashes across Lorroakan’s face when he sees the image of his torn apart self.

“How dare you.”

He frantically crawls back, breathing harsh with his panic. “Master, I’m sorry-“

“How DARE you think of me in this way?! Ungrateful, pitiful bastard, you have learned nothing!”

The staff is being raised once more, and the weave unintentionally crackles around Rolan’s hands. “Master-!”

“I have wasted my time with you. I will think twice before gaining an apprentice again."

Lorroakan swings his staff, a grin on his face. He has every intent to kill him here with the way he aims for Rolan's temple. Without thinking, Rolan raises both his shaking hands to block it with a shield, but his manipulation of the weave senses his true intent. Electricity hums around his hands and-

Die.

There's a loud crack, and he hears the staff drop after a moment. Something wet coat parts of his face and hands. When the pain never comes, he slowly opens his eyes.

Blood. It coats his body and the floor. It's everywhere.

He steadies himself back to sitting on his feet, and there was his master, a gaping hole in his chest and choking on air.

Finally, Rolan’s body has stopped trembling.

(Next Part)

[blackberrysummerblog]

Happy Easter to all of you who celebrate! After a rotten Friday at the animal shelter where I work, I got a very pleasant surprise yesterday when a pregnant stray who came in gave birth to five live and healthy kittens! I might share some pics later on :) In the meantime, thank you @forabeatofadrum and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe for the tags this morning, as well as everyone else who’s continued to tag me on other days. I’ve been pretty slow writing lately, but I do have some shares this week!

First, a bit of kid!Baz POV from my COBB:

In the afternoons, I do my homework as soon as we get home and sometimes call my father. He never has much to say. I’ll offer to help Dev with his work and then water the herbs in the conservatory, reminding myself of the names and uses of each one. Dogtooth violet to stop gossip, bay leaves for wish making and prophetic dreams. Tarragon for confidence, St. John’s Wort to stave off colds and fevers. Basil can drive off dark spirits. I rub the leaves between my fingers, remembering Ebb’s lessons as the fresh summer scent breaks across my skin. “Basil can dispel confusion, boys. It turns back fear and weakness, and is used in exorcisms. Carry it with you to protect yourselves from danger, or spread it on the ground to keep away evil. It’s also sometimes used to bring lovers together.” Dev had elbowed me and sniggered, because of course we both associate the herb with my name. I don’t see how any of it relates to me, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s just what I’m called.

And the next is from a sequel I suddenly started writing to Field Trip of Dreams (god I still hate that that’s the title I gave it). I wouldn’t say it’s necessary to read the first fic, although it gives context for the fact that Baz and Simon are dating in eighth year, and everyone but the Mage knows it. It’s a longish share, but I’m enjoying writing so have it:

“Isolation Cabin?” Basilton is repeating in disbelief. His eyes narrow. “But Sir, whatever will we do if we get to talking and discover we were separated at birth?”

Simon understandably pales, but Davy merely snorts and waves a dismissive hand. “Unlikely, Mr. Pitch. Now, both of you grab your rucksacks while I conjure a bird to lead you to the cabin. It’s…out of the way.”

The rest of the students are in fits, but of course Davy doesn’t notice. He pays attention to nothing and nobody when he thinks he’s in the right. Simon has shouldered his own pack and is staring into the middle distance, refusing to look at anyone. Of course, Natasha Pitch’s son has to get in one last dig: “What’s next, a get-along shirt?”

Basilton’s unimpressed expression is fooling no one—I know blessed well that he’d only love that. “Davy,” I try one last time. “This weekend is supposed to be providing these students with a chance to learn how to get along as a community of mages. Splitting two of them off will deprive them of the chance—”

“Miss Possibelf.” I suppose it’s amusing that after all these years Davy doesn’t dare use my first name. “I know what I’m doing. Boys this age need a firm hand—” How does he not hear the sniggering going on behind him? “—and I’ve had just about enough.” After seven years. Seven years, and he’s had enough? Davy finally acknowledges me enough to turn and lower his voice. “Quite frankly, one of them has nothing to learn about survival, while the other doesn’t need to.” This last part is said in a hushed whisper, even though from the way Basilton’s eyebrow lifts, I’m certain he heard it.

I share his disdain for the sentiment, however, I’m not particularly concerned about his chances—here, or anywhere else. “Fine,” I snap, throwing my hands up. It’s not as though this trip isn’t always an annual excuse for all kinds of unsanctioned…exploration. Simon and Basilton aren’t likely to get up to anything they haven’t already, and I have bigger fish to fry given the amount of alcohol students traditionally smuggle on this fool’s exercise. David Cadwallader can be as blind as he likes, but some of us are left nursing the hangovers.

No pressure holiday tags: @rimeswithpurple, @artsyunderstudy, @cutestkilla, @c0nsumemy5oul, @tender-ministrations, @nausikaaa, @thewholelemon, @orange-peony, @youarenevertooold, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @letraspal, @bookish-bogwitch, @nightimedreamersghost, @aristocratic-otter, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @hushed-chorus, @prettygoododds, @supercutedinosaurs, @shutup-andletme-go, @aceumbrellaheroes, @asocialpessimist, @wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @raenestee , @larkral, @facewithoutheart, @papierhaikuphoto, @cows4247, @stitchy-queerista, @carry-on-big-bang, @imagineacoolusername, @ileadacharmedlife, @confused-bi-queer, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @iamamythologicalcreature, @bazzybelle, @valeffelees

[redgoldsparks]

May Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

The Crane Wife: A Memoir in Essays by CJ Hauser 

This essay collection focuses on human relationships, many of them romantic, but also with grandparents, parents, sisters, best friends, COVID-isolation pods, and with the children of romantic partners from previous relationships. The title essay interweaves the experience of a broken engagement with a scientific expedition to study the dwindling population of whooping cranes in the Gulf Coast of Texas to devastating effect. Another experience, covering the DARPA Robotics Challenge trails, in which teams test out potential robotic first responders, speaks to the author's own desire to both save others and be saved by a string of problematic men. The author dated a lot of men and a few women in their twenties and processes them through the lens of media (the film The Philadelphia Story, the TV show The X-Files,the novels Don Quixote, Rebecca, We Have Always Lived in the Castle) and the perspective gained with time. I really loved this whole collection, but the piece that keeps rolling around in my mind is "The Fox Farm", about trying to recreate an archetype of a child's fantasy house (full of animals, friends, gardens, infinite rooms) in real life as an adult. I left this book wanting to know more- when did the author start using nonbinary pronouns? Have they resolved their feelings about their tits? Is that guest room in their big upstate New York house still available for visiting artists, and if so, how do I apply for the position of resident writer/new friend?

American Teenager: How Trans Kids are Surviving Hate and Finding Joy in a Turbulent Era by Nico Lang

Queer journalist and author Nico Lang traveled around the US to meet 11 families of trans teens and see how anti-trans legislation is impacting their daily lives. Each family has different circumstances; one teen fears his top surgery will be indefinitely delayed, while another had surgery already and has joined the boys swim team at his high school. Some teens are moved to become activists while others want to just live their normal, low-profile lives. With humor and compassion, Lang shows trans teenagers as they really are: kids trying their best, day by day, to grow into their truest selves and fullest potential. The various chapters are by turns deep, silly, introspective, sweet, and smart, just like teens themselves. I was able to read an advanced copy of this book- pre-order it now, or look for it on shelves in October 2024!

Fool’s Assassin by Robin Hobb read by Elliot Hill

NO ONE IS DOING IT LIKE ROBIN HOBB. NO ONE! After a disappointing journey up the Rain Wilds River, baby we are BACK! And by back, I mean, back in a first person POV and back with FitzChivalry, one of my literal favorite fictional characters ever. This is the 7th book about his life, and the 14th overall book in this series, so I won't be summarizing it. Let's just say that Fitz found his happy ending (minus a few key soulmates) and then his life kept going. More problems, more politics, more magic, maybe stranger than ever before. A new character introduced in this series swept in and stole my heart. I can't wait to dive into the next book very soon!

Rose/House by Arkady Martine read by Raquel Beattie  

A brief murder mystery set in an fully conscious AI house in the southwest desert. This story feels in conversation with Ray Bradbury's story The Veldt and has many elements I enjoy, but a somewhat unresolved and slightly unsatisfying ending. I'm honestly still simmering on my thoughts, but looking forward to discussing this in book club soon! Edit post book club: a discussion helped me clarify what I thought was working in this book (tone, setting, themes) and what was not working (too many red herrings for such a short book, and an ending twist that seemed to undercut the book's main premise). I still think it's worth a read for Arkady Marine fans, but it is not as strong as her full length books.

Dances of Time and Tenderness by Julian Carter

In 2016 Julian Carter, a queer author and long-time participant in San Francisco's dungeon kink scene, received an invitation to be part of an archival matchmaking project. The project paired artists, activists, and scholars with specific issues of OUT/LOOK: The National Lesbian and Gay Quarterly. The assignment was to use the issue as a jumping off point to think about queer history and make something "new and provocative." Carter's assigned issue was from Winter 1991, the year the CDC announced 1 million American were HIV positive and AIDS was the 3rd leading cause of death in people aged 25-44 years. One of the many who died in 1991 due to AIDS related complications was Lou Sullivan, one of the first trans men to publicly identify as gay. From this starting point, this book traces paths of queer lineage, both proclaimed and obscured, traveling through history, memory, and poetry. Carter is linked, through friendship or scholarship, to Susan Stryker, pioneer of transgender history, to Zach Ozma, who edited Lou Sullivan's diaries for publication, and to Lou himself. Casting a transgender eye back on a queer history divided sharply into gay and lesbian, Carter allows himself to claim as ancestors sailors, skeletons, writers, lovers, and reaches forward in time towards students, readers, and artists. Including me. I was fortunate enough to be gifted an early copy by the author, and read it back in February back in one delicious rush. I already want to read it again, and more slowly, this time underlining and annotating it. This is a book to savor, but is easy to devour instead. It's sensual and surprising, formally precise, and made me want to dig around in a mess of queer historical papers and also contribute my own to the pile. It's out on June 4, 2024; give it a pre-order or look for it on shelves soon!

49 Days by Agnes Lee 

Kit, a young Korean American woman, wakes up on a beach with a map and a watch telling her she's already late. For days, she clambers over rocks and up trails, reaching for an undefined goal. Slowly, the book begins to flash back to Kit's childhood and family, the people she loved and left behind after her accidental death. In Buddhist tradition a soul travels for 49 days before rebirth, and this book follows one version of that path, the grief and slow healing that follow a loss. Drawn in a very simple yet evocative style, the spare ink lines and limited color fill this journey with meaning.

Early Riser by Jasper Fforde read by Thomas Hunt 

What a bizarre and delightful novel. It's set in an alternate history in which ice-age level cold spells cause the majority of humans to hibernate every winter, which has ripple effects on the development of technology, societal rules, culture, and family structures. Charlie Worthing was born in a "pool" in the independent nation of Wales, or a group home in which nuns dedicated to reproduction birth and raise dozens of children, in returns for credits from those who can't or don't want to have their own kids. Charlie has very few job prospects, especially ones that will give him access to morphanox, a drug which helps most people survive their months-long winter sleeps. The drug also turns about 1 in 3000 into a brain-dead zombie, but this risk is considered better odds than sleeping without it. So Charlie volunteers for the Winter Consuls, the law-keepers and problem-solvers who stay up all winter to safe guard the majority. There he has to face the three well documented dangers of winter- Vacants (zombies), Villains (the British) and Winter Volk (fairies, whose reality is debated), as well as rumors of a viral dream. The humor in this book is a close cousin to Terry Pratchett's work, in which absurdity and invention mask some pretty biting social commentary and anti-capitalist motives. I did think some of the twists at the end didn't quite pay off, however, I had such a good time with the ride this book took me on that I'd still recommend it.

Blue Flag vol 2 by Kaito 

This vol has already taken a kind of melancholy, bittersweet narrative tone which might put me off the series. I still really like the characters and overall think the writing is very effective, out I wish the humor and sweetness of book 1 would last farther into the series!

Critical Role: The Mighty Nein Origins: Jester Lavorre by Sam Maggs, Laura Bailey, Matthew Mercer, Hunter Severn Bonyun, Cathy Le, Ariana Maher

Short and sweet, this prequel comic shows Jester's first meeting with The Traveler, the prank that caused her need to flee from Nicodranas, and a window into Jester's relationship with her mother. It's a slight story but I loved the artwork, especially the outfits and the beautiful city views.

The Book of Love by Kelly Link

Kelly Link, one of my favorite short story authors, debuted a novel 650 pages long. I bought this the day of release but it took me a few months to actually crack it open. I'd seen it described as slow, but I think I'd say leisurely. It opens with an intriguing premise- four teenagers come back from the dead, not knowing how they died or why they were brought back 11 months later- and have to solve a magical problem if they want to keep living. But the book is less a mystery than a close examination of the teens lives in a small New England town in December. The teens include Danial, oldest of many step-siblings, who rejects his new magical powers and just wants to live a small and ordinary life. There's Mo, who lost his parents young, and was being raised by his grandmother, a famous Black romance novelist- who herself died during the 11 months he spent in an underworld. There's Laura, a musically ambitious teen, who comes back to her single mom and sister Susannah, who seems somehow entangled with the magical ritual that killed and might save her friends. And then there's a fourth person who none of the others know, who snuck out of death on their coat tails and has no name and few memories. The book rotates POVs every chapter, with more than 15 different POVs, some of whom only appear once in the whole volume. I love Link's writing style so this worked for me, but I can see how this choice to linger over details not directly related to the plot might not work for some readers. I really enjoyed this but it did take me 3 weeks to read it and I suggest other readers pick it up when ready for a slow burn of a book.

Plain Jane and the Mermaid by Vera Brosgol 

This original fairytale opens with teenage Jane mourning the recent death of her parents, after she already lost her younger brother to the sea as a child. Because there's no male heir, Jane's horrible cousin will be kicking her out of the house in a week. The only option she can see is marrying within the week so that she can access her dowry. So Jane walks down to the fishing village below her manor and proposes to a beautiful but shallow fisherman's son. He accepts- then is immediately lured under the waves by a mermaid. Jane runs into the town asking for help but only an old woman with witchy vibes is willing to aid her. The crone gives Jane a potion so she can breathe underwater, a stone which will allow her to walk on the bottom of the ocean, and a shawl to keep her warm in the depths. So armed, Jane walks into the sea after the boy who feels like her only hope. Under the waves she encounters allies and enemies, learns the true power of her own will, and realizes she might have more choices than she's realized.

Blue Flag vol 3 by Kaito

Well, I started another book because the last one ended on a massive cliff hanger, but I think I'm setting the series down after this one. I still think it's very well written, but the main character has such low self-esteem that he shouts at other characters that he sucks, he's a jerk, he doesn't deserve their friendship and they should leave him alone. I bet the arc of this series will be building this character up to where he believes he deserves their love and friendship, but I just don't feel like dwelling in this character's self-pity at the moment. I would have eaten this shit up as a teen though! Especially with the queer characters.

The Free People’s Village by Sim Kern

Set in an alternate timeline in which Al Gore won the 2000 election and declared the War on Climate Change instead of the War on Terror, this novel is an interesting mix of hopeful and dystopian elements. The main character is Maddie Ryan, a white high school English teacher working in a primarily Black neighborhood in Houston, TX. The novel is Maddie's written account of a tumultuous year in which the grungy music warehouse where her punk band practices and performs is threatened by a proposed high way and oil line which will rip up not only their art space but also a historically Black neighborhood. Maddie starts attending activist meetings which quickly morph into a full blown protest encampment surrounding the warehouse. Dubbed the Free People Village, this protest movement goes viral and is met with the exact same kind of violent police response as the current student encampments protesting for Palestine on college campuses. Woven through this depressingly accurate political forecast are multiple queer love stories, interracial friendships, a 101 crash course in anarchist philosophy and bracing look at what long-term activism takes. Folks with more of an organizing or activist background than I might find some of this book a bit basic; but I was completely drawn in by the relationships and conflicts of Maddie, Red, Gestas, Angel, and Shayna. This book feels almost painfully timely, and I hope a lot of people read it and gain both courage and perspective.

[dsireland86]

There is Beauty in the Pain: Chapter 5 Pt.1

"Cause your love is fire warm I'll be the calm babe, before the storm You got me fallin' in love, in this bad dream" -bad dream- Nerve

@lma1986 @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @thatamazingvampirestory

Sophie:

My body was healing well enough to the point that I felt human again for the first time in days. The process wasn't always easy, mainly because I would get trapped inside my own head trying to put all the wrong things right again, but I had a good support system. Despite the moments I'd shut them out, they were there, ready and willing to help; Noah and Folio especially. 

After days of staying locked inside the bedroom, I showered and dressed and went downstairs only to find Noah, Jolly, Nick, and Folio in the kitchen attempting to cook breakfast. The place was a disaster, making me wonder if any of them had any idea what of they were doing. Given the shape and color of the burnt bacon, I would say no. “This is not edible,” I told them, picking up a tiny piece and cringing at just the sight. The silence surrounding us was a little awkward, making me wonder if I overstepped my boundaries. “See, I told you you had the heat up too high, Jolly.” Nicholas shoved the tall Swede in the shoulder earning him the same in return. Breathing a sigh, I put the bacon down and wiped my fingers on the paper leaning closely into Folio’s shoulder when came over, hugging me gently. I didn't let the way his face nuzzled my neck or the feeling of his fingers dancing on my back go unnoticed. It was sweet and innocent, but it made me feel so good, he had no idea how much. The way he smelled didn't help either and the gold crucifix hanging down around his neck gave off the perfect touch to his bad but oh so sweet boy attitude. Folio was becoming a weakness for me.

But my heart was holding a very deep secret for someone else and that terrified the shit out of me. I had already fallen for Noah; I knew that and wasn’t going to allow myself to deny it any longer. But there was still so much fear; so much anxiety. I had no reason to doubt Noah; no reason to think he'd ever hurt me, yet after all the years of abuse, my mind just wouldn’t let me let go. Noah had to prove himself to me. If he wanted me, he was going to have to work to get me. But I knew he’d never do it. Most men wouldn't. I knew this and was playing the fool to believe he would. Noah didn’t owe me anything, yet he’d already done for me more than anyone else in my entire life except Alex had, and somehow this was screwing with my head. It was creating boulders I couldn’t jump over reminding me I had to protect myself. 

“Hey,” Noah’s voice made me jump, pulling me from my thoughts. I gave him my best smile, mind blown by his appearance the moment I looked at him. He had on a white t-shirt of God playing basketball with the Devil, one that I recognized well, and a pair of black joggers. His hair was disheveled but the perfect length, reminding me of an anime character I'd seen before. “It's really nice to see you up and about.” Noah's smile was genuine, but shy, different from the man I remembered days ago. “It's nice to feel a little normal again,” I replied with my best smile, even though I was nothing but a bundle of tangled nerves that I hoped Noah couldn't see, but if he did, he was really good at hiding it. I looked around the kitchen and grimaced at the sight of everything. “Dude, your kitchen is a wreck.” We both chuckled, Noah running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said, sighing while looking around at all the dirty dishes and countertop. “Jolly tries but,” he threw his hands out at the mess. My forehead creased in confusion. “If this is what happens every time Jolly tries to cook then how do you eat?” Blank expressions stared back at me. “Okay, better question, who knows how to cook?” “Does Ramen and cereal count,” Nicholas asked, trying to hide his grin. I rolled my eyes and groaned. “To be fair, we're not home enough. Door Dash and take out are pretty good alternatives,” trying his best to defend himself and his friends. I laid a hand gently on his shoulder, laughing. “Alright, fair enough, but after we clean up this kitchen I’m making you guys a proper breakfast.” “Oh thank God,” Folio exclaimed, laying a kiss on my cheek. Warmth spread over my skin and I knew I was blushing. I glanced at Noah, noticing his brooding expression as he crossed his arms over his chest and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous. He had no reason to be, surely he knew that. Nick was just being friendly, like always. Shaking the thoughts away, I turned around and began clearing the counter of dishes, with Jolly’s help. I was too scared to look at Noah again, worried I’d upset him or made him angry. Maybe this was fates way of telling me to trust my gut; to start distancing myself from him and the whole situation before ending up accidently hurting him or someone close to him. I was leaving soon, so it made sense. I risked a glance at him again, only to find he was gone and I breathed a sigh. Jolly nudged my shoulder, asking me if I was okay, and I assured him I was, focusing back on the task at hand.

That afternoon, after breakfast and cleaning up, Jolly found me outside on the back patio, searching for an Uber pick-up. He scared me half to death the second he snuck up behind me and snatched my phone out of my hands. "Hey!", reaching for the phone out of Jolly’s long arms. "Don't hey me, ma'am. What do you think you're doing?" He glanced at the screen of my phone and his eyes blinked a couple of times. "Uber? Really Sophie?” His brows furrowed as he stared down at me. I folded my arms over my chest, chewing on my lip out of a nervous habit. Noah joined us, giving me a soft half-smile, but I quickly looked away. My mind was cluttered and I could feel the anxiety and pressure building up in me since breakfast. "What’s going on? Why are you looking up an Uber to your apartment?” I breathed in deeply thinking of how to explain it to him so he’d understand. "I need to go home, Jolly. This was never meant to be long term. Shit, it was really only supposed to overnight, yet here I am; still.” ‘What do you mean still? You make it sound like it’s a problem.” “It is,” I emphasized with wide eyes and tossing my hands up. “I’ve dumped my shit on you guys long enough and that’s something I never do. I don’t ask for help, I don’t burden others with my life, with things they can’t fix. There’s no point.” Throwing my hands on my hips, I walked over to the balcony, looking out into the valley below. Life was in full swing down there. That's what I had to do. I had to get back to reality even if it was hell. I had responsibilities that I couldn’t neglect. 

“I get it, Soph,” Jolly assured me, laying his hand gently on my shoulder. “Being a stranger in a place that’s not your home can be hard. I felt that when coming here from Sweden. I had a tough time at first and if it wasn’t for Noah, I would have gone back home.” We both turned to look at him. He was leaning against the side of the house, one foot pressed against the well, and hands folded over his chest. When he looked at me, my breath hitched and I swallowed hard. It was the same way he looked at me at the show; like he could see right through me. Maybe he did; in the best way possible. All the anxiety I was feeling melted away and his reassuring smile brough one to my own face.

“I know you’re anxious to get back to real life Sophie, but ask yourself if you’re ready. Going back to your apartment is likely to trigger something, something you might not be ready for yet.” I looked up into Jolly’s face. His features were so defined and strong and the way he carried himself made him seem a lot older than he really was. Jolly was gentle and had a big heart. He cared so much for so many things and people. “Thank you for understanding, Jolly. It's nice to have someone who does,” I grinned. He nodded his head towards Noah. “I’m not the only one. He’s crazy about you, Sophie. He’s just confused and has a lot of mixed emotions about everything that’s happening. Noah can be very complicated and complex. He’s not like most people. But once he’s made up his mind, he doesn’t change it. He follows through with whatever choice he’s made.” I nodded slowly at Jolly, indicating I understood. “So, has he made up his mind about me, you think?”, lowering my eyes, afraid of the answer. “Yeah, I think he has. That’s why he looks at you the way he does.” “How,” scrunching my brows together. Jolly smiled, huffing a laugh. “Like you put all the stars in the sky.” My heart skipped a few beats when hearing Jolly’s words. “He won’t let you go back alone, Sophie. He’s made that decision for himself already. Please try to understand where he’s coming from too, before making any of your own decisions. Whether you like it or not, there’s a heart involved now; well a few hearts really.” Jolly winked at me and took me into his arms, hugging me tight. After placing a small kiss on my forehead, he left Noah and I alone. 

 I turned my back on the view of the valley and set my sights on something better; a tall, slender, tattooed man with dark chocolate almond eyes, hair to die for, and a heart that was feeling more for me than it should. He was staring at me too, and for the first time I caught a glimpse of what Jolly had said; Noah was looking at me like I had put the stars in the sky. I suddenly yearned to be near him, so I casually drifted over to the side of the house where he was still standing.

“Hey,” softly kicking his foot with the tip of my toes. “Hey back,” he answered, his dark eyes wandering over me. “You okay?” I asked because even though he seemed fine, I knew he wasn't. I don't know how I knew, gut feeling maybe, but I just knew. “I’m okay. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” “I’m sorry. Anything in particular keeping you up?” Noah stuck out his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Insomnia. I don’t sleep well anyway. For some reason, I couldn’t find the right thing to listen to on my Calm app. Couldn't make the right decision.” He shrugged his broad shoulders with his arms still folded across his chest. Shoving my hands in my back pockets, I couldn't resist saying, “Well, maybe you should try making a bad decision instead of a right decision.” Noah's face lit up, and he chuckled, moving toward me and away from the side of the house. “Ha ha ha, very funny.” Brushing up against me, I could feel his body heat and smell his cologne. He was to die for. “Maybe you could be my bad decision,” he suggested, looking down at me with his chest almost flushed against mine, causing me to take a slightly deep breath. Noah's confession weakened me, sending shockwaves of excitement and arousal to places where they shouldn't have gone. At least not yet, not this soon. He slipped a finger under my chin and raised my face to look at me. The colors of his tattoos appeared to be crawling out of his shirt, as if choking him, and I couldn't resist the urge to touch him. Moving my eyes to his neck, I trailed my fingertips slowly down his partially exposed skin, feeling his breath hitch, stopping just at the collar of his white t-shirt. Noah brought his hand up to mine and laid it on top, our eyes darting back and forth with each other's. “You have incredible eyes.” I grinned at his confession. “So do you.” I knew he wasn’t in love with me, but damn! His eyes said “I love you” every time they locked on mine. They made me want to give in to him; emotionally, mentally, and physically. But I was afraid and knew that in the end, I would end up regretting it all anyway. Trust was a difficult thing for me, and if I couldn’t get a man like Perry to love me the way I wanted, the way I needed, what made me think Noah would. I was a basket case, a problem he didn’t need or deserve no matter what our emotions were saying. Noah was better off without me being a thorn in his side. Clearing my throat, I took a step back. Noah let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry, I got a little too close. Personal space, you know,” admitting shyly. I grinned at him, hoping he knew I wasn’t offended. “It’s fine. I don’t mind you in my personal space.” Shit. Where did that come from? Looking away to avoid his questioning stare, I looked back behind me out into the distant valley, remembering what I was planning to do. 

“I, uh, I really need to go back to my apartment,” I said, turning back around and letting my eyes glance at Noah for a moment. He was still looking at me, but turned away the instant our eyes met. “I thought Jolly talked you into staying a bit more.” “Not to stay. I just need to get some things. My laptop and work stuff; toiletries, clothes, that kind of stuff.” Noah relaxed, nodding. “You don’t like hanging out in my clothes?”, he joked but acted offended. “Noah, I could live in your hoodies and oversized joggers for the rest of my life, but I don't think the world would appreciate seeing me like that.” In one long stride, Noah closed the gap between us again, sliding his hand behind my head. My heart was pounding with how easily he could make me weak for him. “Fuck the world. You do what makes you feel good.” I let out a very nervous laugh. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” “Why not?” he asked, leaning down, closer to my face. “Because,” I said, barely above a whisper. “If I did what made me feel good, we’d both be in so much trouble, Noah.” I risked a glance up at him, seeing how hard he was fighting the urge and impulse running through his mind. “I don’t mind trouble,” he confessed, his lips moving closer to mine. “Oh fuck” I thought to myself. If he kissed me, there was no holding back. “You should,” I suggested. “Well, I guess I’ll stop looking for trouble since you’re right here then.” My insides exploded, causing my panties to become wet, the tingles and arousal to rip through my body, as his words completely decimated my thoughts. “Hey Noah, Jolly wants to know,” Folio was standing at the entrance of the house, the back door thrown wide open as he stood there speechless, looking at the two of us. “Fuck, sorry brother,” he sweetly apologized, turning to leave. “Nick, stop,” Noah called out, instantly letting me go and leaving me for his friend. Releasing the breath I was holding, I quickly rushed past both of them and back up into the bedroom where I poured out every scream and tear I’d been holding in. 

CHAPTER 5 PT 2

[devilsrecreation]

Some more angsty TLG stuff cuz we all need some angst in our lives

- Tamka having a breakdown over his lack of intelligence in his episode. After he finds out he was being used by the mob and he pushed his friends away, he thinks he’s all alone and starts to cry

- Jasiri remembering her past and how she seems to be forgetting her mother…. oof

- Chungu realizing he’s never going to find his parents (it’s brief, but still upsetting)

- I’m imagining at some point when the OG trio come back, they start inviting themselves into Janja’s life more and more. Shenzi especially does this since she didn’t get to be much of a parent when she was forced to leave the Outlands as to not get suspected for killing Scar by Zira. It’s honestly fine for the Janja at first, then it starts getting annoying when Shenzi (unintentionally) becomes degrading by providing unnecessary protection. It gets to the point where Janja snaps at his mother about how he isn’t a cub anymore and she can’t treat him as such after leaving for so long

- So my Sibling’s Day idea, right? Where Jasiri invites everyone’s siblings over for a celebration and to let them know they’re appreciated? Cute wholesome family moments, right? Well, not for a certain lizard cuz Njano slowly gets more upset the longer he looks at everyone having a good time with their respective siblings, reminding him of Danganya. He legit goes from “Aw that’s nice” to “heh…they look pretty wholesome” to “maybe a little too wholesome” to “just like….him”. He acts all fine when Shupavu asks him if he’s okay but inside he misses his late brother :(

This episode idea is one of the rare times he actually frowns. Njano’s a generally happy skink, but when he gets upset, Danganya has something to do with it

- Reirei: What are you scared of?!

Goigoi: I’m scared of you

Reirei: Me??

Goigoi: I'm scared that... One day, you'll see yourself as I see you... Perfect.. And... That you'll leave me for someone you deserve..

-I think I’ve mentioned this before but Nduli’s trauma caused him to have a fear of abandonment and it shows. Ever since he lost his mother, he’s scared that his float would leave him like the majority of animals he knew. He can’t even handle being alone for a few hours cuz he’ll get paranoid. He’ll try to be optimistic at first, but the more he’s alone, the more worried he gets cuz there’s always a possibility his friends aren’t coming back. So he has to be with at least one of his friends or else he becomes a scared child

There would be an incident in the future when he has kids where the float wakes up at the end of the dry season and one of Nduli’s daughters, Shauri, isn’t there and Nduli straight up has a panic attack (dw she’s fine. She just got woken up in the Dry Season)

-Kiburi frequently still has nightmares about his father’s death. Every time he wakes up, he snuggles just a little bit closer to one of the other float members

-Kenge and Shupavu go through the same thing with Ushari’s death. If only Kenge had been there instead of ditching his only friend…then maybe Ushari would still be alive. Shupavu could have done something instead of staring like a fool, but she didn’t

- Sumu blaming himself for Kenge getting hurt when Mkatili’s chimps attack. Kenge keeps telling him to shut up and that he’ll be fine but Sumu can’t help it

-Selena Gomez’s “people you know” perfectly encapsulates Makuu and Kiburi’s rift

We used to be close, but people can go

From people you know to people you don't

And what hurts the most is people can go

From people you know to people you don't

That’s basically them

-Imagine how Pua must feel knowing that basically all of his friends had passed on. It’s basically that one drawing of all the regular show characters and Skips being the last one left

-Mzingo constantly being reminded of the fact that he nearly killed Janja by trapping him in Pride Rock even though he didn’t know the hyenas were there in the first place

- TW for character death

This isn’t gonna happen anytime soon but…Pua finally completing his journey. It was a peaceful death with all the crocodiles by his side. He has last words for everyone (basically all the crocs we care about). Everyone, even Makuu and Kiburi, cried

Tamka takes it the hardest, he thinks he should have been a better son :(

-Sometime, in the far future, when all the kids are grown up and Wakali’s the new leader of the crocodiles, Nduli’s gonna be the last of his generation to still be alive. He’s still the same Nduli, albeit a bit sadder cuz all of his friends have gone without him. He’s no longer the baby during that time and while he has to be strong for the sake of the float, it’s proven hard for him cuz he can’t help but miss his friends

[creative-kny-fics]

Bro I can just imagine Obinai’s snake tickling him just to be playful towards him! It would be freaking adorable!

Ohhh!! How nice! You're right, Kaburamaru almost always passes it around Obanai's neck, besides that snakes like to be in hot places, and what better hot place than inside the owner's uniform?

Warning: This fanfic contains tickles. Also remind them that I don't speak English, so if they find any errors, let me know to correct it. I hope you like it!

Lee: Iguro Obanai

Ler: Kaburamaru (Iguro's snake)

'I don't understand, why can't I tell Kanroji how much I like her?', Obanai lay down looking at the sky, he didn't talk to anyone, it was an external monologue.

The only one who heard it was Kaburamaru, who was in his hot tub watching his owner suffer for love.

'I don't know how to express it to you, I would like to tell you, but... Who would be with me? Kanroji deserves better than me, don't you think?' Kaburamaru got out of his tub and wrapped himself around Iguro's neck, trying to comfort him.

'Oh Kaburamaru, I would like to ask someone for help. But I also want the words I say to Kanroji to come out of me... Who am I kidding? I should first die and cleanse my corrupt blood, Kanroji is too much for me, he doesn't deserve to be with me', Kaburamaru got fed up, he could be an animal, but he understood and knew that even if his owner was arrogant and cruel to others, with Kanroji he was totally different, he loved her and was willing to sacrifice himself and die just for her to be happy

But what could Kaburamaru do? He couldn't speak, he couldn't even hug him... He stuck out his tongue thinking, he remembered what Rengoku always did with him when he felt sad and it worked, Iguro laughed.

Would there be any possibility of doing it without arms or fingers? Mmmm... He already had it!

He took advantage of the fact that Iguro closed his eyes, thinking and meditating for a moment, when he got into his uniform. 'Are you tired, right? Rest', poor Obanai-

Kaburamaru slid down, trying to pick up his pace when Iguro started to move. Besides, Obanai would probably fall on his back and crush him, he had to be careful.

'Kabuhuramaru-! Get out of there! Grrr!! I won't hurt you-! No! Ngh-!', Kaburamaru and Rengoku knew that Obanai's back was a huge tickle spot, especially his lower part.

'Gah-! No! Kaburamaru! Enough-! Mmm!!!', Obanai bit the sleeves of his haori, Kaburamaru was getting closer and closer to where he feared, he didn't mind laughing, he was alone, what bothered him was that his pet had knocked him down and made him act like a fool

'PFFFT!! GEHEHETT OHOHOFF!! NAHAHAT THEHERE!! KABURAMARU!!! FUHUHUCK!!', I told you, Iguro wasn't able to stand the back of his back being tickled, it could be anywhere on his back, but that spot makes all his efforts disappear and makes him laugh uncontrollably

Kaburamaru was gently tracing different patterns on Obanai's back, how? Well, with his tail!

'NOHOHOT AGAHAHAIN!! YOU TIHIHICKLED ME 2 DAYS AGOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAP!!', yep, Kaburamaru was Obanai's emotional support pet, when things like that happened, Kaburamaru would act immediately, if he can talk, he would have told Mitsuri about Iguro's sensitivity a long time ago

'COHOHOME ON!! WHAHAHAT NOHOHOW?!', Obanai, he won't answer you, find out for yourself!

Anyway, Kaburamaru was comfortably playing with his tail as he felt his owner arch his back and turned around to pound his fists on the ground and not crush him in the process.

'STOHOHOP!! OK OK! I WILL NOT SAY MORE BAD THINGS ABOUT ME!! HAPPY?!', nope, he wasn't...

'OHOH FUHUHUCK!! OK OK!! I'M SOHOHORRY ABAHAHAOUT MY INSECURITY!! KABURAMARU!!! THIHIHIS IS HUMBILING!! I'M A HASHIHIRAA!!', and? To Kaburamaru, you are still Iguro Obanai, the owner who he loves and respects so much.

That's how he stopped and got out of his uniform, colliding his nose with his owner's.

'Thahahanks I neheheedd that-...', like I said, emotional support pet

[kissesforsatoru]

Hello! If it's not a problem can I ask for Manila!Izana with a police officer darling? Maybe one where the darling infiltrated the gang undercover to bring it down?

pairings : izana x reader

summary : izana with a cop darling who infiltrated his gang

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, implied kidnapping, reader is tied up and gagged in the beginning, non-con kissing

"izana," kakucho calls, entering the room, and izana looks at him with a raise of his eyebrow, "we got the rat. they're in the interrogation room right now."

izana stands from his seat and walks towards kakucho, stopping when right next to him to place a hand on his shoulder, "you're always upholding my expectations, kakucho, just as a servant should. good job," he says, and then he leaves the room.-

the walk to the interrogation room was quick, and when izana arrived, the men stationed at the door immediately opened it for him to enter. inside, tied up and gagged, you shot up and glared at him, but izana could still see the obvious fear in your eyes and the slight shake of your body; it filled him with satisfaction every time a rat realized the kind of trap they'd stumbled themselves into. whiney little creatures they are, screeching for their lives like helpless animals about to be devoured, all while completely at his mercy to do whatever the hell he wanted. izana never quite liked to get his hands dirty, but seeing the scared looks and screams for mercy will has always exhilarated him.

"i'll deal with this one alone," he says, smirking as he hears your muffled noises of resistance, but the doors close and you're left alone with him anyway.

he takes slow steps towards you, watching as you try your damndest to maintain an unrelenting look—it's cute, really, seeing you so desperate to prove that he doesn't scare you when your body blatantly betrays you. your efforts are nothing but a mask to comfort yourself with, but izana will soon rip that mask away and leave you broken along with it.

when he reaches you, he bends down in front of you, looking at you directly, and his proximity alone already starts to deteriorate your fabricated confidence—your eyes are glossy, as if you're about to cry, and your noises start to break off into weak little whines. even so, your eyes still shne with determination. how pitiful.

he reaches up and hooks his finger under your gag, pulling it down off of your mouth and dropping it to rest around your neck. you gasp and move your jaw around to try and ease the soreness, and then suddenly your attention snaps back to him.

"let me go right now," you say, and he's honestly surprised that your voice doesn't break or faulter at all. he huffs a laugh and looks at you with amusement flaring in his crazed eyes.

"oh? and why should i do that?" he asks mockingly, tilting his head to the side.

you grunt, and then, "because this is illegal," you say as if it's obvious, but to izana, the legality of things has never mattered, and you of all people should know that. you've caused him quite a bit of trouble by working with the police; luckily, he's always been one step ahead of you, watching you and the rest of the police parade around like fools. you got too close though, stumbled upon something you shouldn't have and now you're here. a shame, really.

"yeah? you think i care about that?" the question is rhetorical since the both of you know the answer, but you decide to answer anyway.

"no," you say, and your voice does faulter this time, if only slightly, "but when my collogues get here, this will just be another charge against you," you say, eyes flicking away from him for a second as you gulp. izana almost feels bad for you for believing such a silly little thing like that. your 'collogues' aren't coming and he won't be getting charged with anything—not when he has plenty of people working for him from inside the police. you were just a clueless little rookie that wanted to crack a big case to gain some recognition, but instead you got yourself pathetically involved in something that would have always been a losing game for you. it's just sad.

"you know, i like you a lot, y/n. i think i'll keep you," he says, smiling at you, but something about that smile feels off. he brings his hand up to pet your head gently, and then a second later, it falls to rest on the nape of your neck where he pushes you closer to him, "i'll have fun breaking you into my perfect little lover," he whispers, and then his lips are on yours before you can even think to protest him.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 3

Summary: Colonel Parker's sudden entrance and news of on-set rumors worry Elvis, who tries to ignore them. Francesca, though falling for Elvis, fears getting too close. Their love, tested by fame and personal wishes, reaches a peak during a romantic night where they share their true feelings. Facing a potential turning point, one has to ask: Can their love withstand the challenges of their public lives, or will the spotlight's glare be too much?

Read chapter one and chapter two to get caught up. Word count: 9,400 Warnings: Intense romantic and sexual situations; medical emergencies; substance abuse; emotional vulnerability.

Colonel Parker stormed into the dressing room. He had a penchant for crew-blindness. If someone wasn’t a star, he simply didn’t acknowledge them. As far as he was concerned, the extras weren’t even there. 

So, he didn’t have any qualms about laying everything out in front of the nice makeup girls, who did their very best to pretend they definitely didn’t hear a word Elvis and his agent were saying.

“Did you see what she said? In her little press blurb?” He slapped a gray, rolled up newspaper on the desk, rattling the brushes. 

“What who said?” Elvis half-heartedly passed a glance to the unfurling paper. It was just a local paper, who cared what some reporter had to dress up and slant and make malice? That’s how most of them were. Twisting words to suit their stories, to sell their articles. But when the Colonel flipped a few sheets in, to a long article filled with quotes, Elvis couldn’t help but check again, even if his eyes couldn’t discern the lettering.

It read, “An anonymous tipster has it that Elvis can be a challenge to work with at times due to his overwhelming presence on set, and that some of the female members are finding friction alongside their co-rockstar, and not in a good way.”

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Elvis laughed. He didn’t care. He wasn’t concerned. He wasn’t wondering which female members. What friction?

“It goes on. I mean...” the Colonel’s voice was high strung. Insinuating. “There’s some nice stuff in here. Most of the crew seems happy, but it just looks like whoever spoke to the reporter might not be. Hm.” Like he was pondering on it, in a thoughtful way. “Best to take care of that. You don’t want directors thinking you’re hard to work with or even too wild on set. They don’t like that kind of party animal stuff on the clock no more, my boy. What you do at home is your business. But while you’re here, you might as well try and take it seriously. It’s what you wanted, isn't it?” He kept his tone light, almost consoling.

Elvis’s fists balled on the studded leather arms of the make-up chair. Application of his pancake makeup had petered off as the girls nervously fidgeted, pausing awkwardly before continuing with the finishing touches. 

“Gonna pat your face all over one more time, Mr. Presley.”

He shut his eyes in anticipation and exhaled, getting locked into place.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal, but I’ll make sure everything’s running smoothly. I’m agreeable. You know that.” He diffused, diverted, decompressed. Always the one that had to tactfully take up for himself while simultaneously maintaining the peace (which usually meant kowtowing to whatever it was his heavy-handed agent wanted).

The Colonel put his stony hands on Elvis’s shoulders, encouragingly in his bumbling way. “I just don’t want to see you make a fool of yourself.”

Elvis nodded, but in agreement with the decision to remain steadfast in his calm. If he blew up now, it would just make things worse. And he wondered. That reporter had been hawking Frannie, waiting for the moment to strike. Had she still been mad at him at the time? Had she let something unseemly slip? That just… didn’t seem like her. She was so humble, so reserved in her professionalism. Glamour and grace, she was the essence of class. She never said a bad word about anybody.

He just needed to talk to her, smooth things over like he said. That’s all.

“Good luck out there kid, better get crackin’.” When the Colonel left, Elvis’s mind was truly left to ramble. The paper had been left open. That wasn’t all she said. 

He feathered the pages between his fingers, bringing it up to read.

"Some say more than sparks are flying high on the set. Are tensions mounting as well? When social lives dance with professionalism, can everything truly be conflict free?"

He rolled his eyes. The drama. Like conflicts in a movie set were the most headline worthy bits of news to grace the media. When did journalism become more sensationalism and less reality? Pushing the papers away wasn't enough; he plunked them into the trash, dusting his hands.

*

There was a spring in her step, a lightness that lifted her clean off the ground. Francesca was floating—cautiously, carefully—on the surf of infatuation. It was a giddiness that followed her throughout the day. It drew patterns that she otherwise wouldn't have noticed. Young couples seemed more affectionate as she glanced at them on the street, leaning on one another, hands clasped tight. The sun felt brighter on her face. But she wouldn't use that accursed, powerful four-letter word, even if her mind whispered it like an omen.

You're falling, falling fast.

Elvis surprised her the other night, classic pebble-against-window style. He had the Mafia in tow, whooping, spilling out of the sides of the pink Cadillac. She’d opened her window to hear them loudly, chittering and then shushing one another.

"Heeeey, Francieee," Billy waved, hiccuping and covering his mouth.

A bunch of unchaperoned young kids, giggling drunk with Elvis the sober pilot.

"To what do I owe this star-crossed meeting?" She laughed and called down, the night wind catching her dark curls. Stories away and she could see the twinkle in his eye from up above. Elvis waved and then reached down beside him, pulling up the neck of his guitar.

Oh, no. He didn't. He was going to wake everyone on the street! The moon was high, and the city seemed to hush in a quiet whisper, anticipating the tinny strum of his acoustic guitar. The sound was haunting, like a dove cooing his loneliness.

Francesca was a proper Juliet, waiting to be serenaded.

"Any requests?" He asked, tickling the strings, adjusting the tension. 

"Leeeet me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with YOU!"

"Billy, goddammit." Red bickered.

Frannie grinned. "Oh, I do like Bing Crosby," she said, watching Elvis's shoulders roll back.

"Hmp. Well, I've got something better than that," Elvis retorted, clearly a nerve twinged. Was he jealous? He fanned the strings hard, kicking the neck up. He pointed right at her, announcing to a made-up crowd with a fake mic gripped in his hand, "This song is for a very, very special little lady."

“The summer wind came blowin’ in from across the sea. It lingered there to touch your hair and walk with meeee.”

Call it corny, but she had to admit it made her heart melt. 

*

Today, they were filming the scene that set the mood for the film’s romance: when Josephine and Jake first meet at the casino under the overwhelming sun of the dazzling lights.

Her hair couldn’t settle right; it kept tickling her face and she’d have to brush it away. And maybe the new air conditioning system was stirring up a lot of dust. She blinked, rubbing the corners of her eyes, trying not to muck up her make-up. The first chapter of filming early scenes consisted of a lot of retakes and so far in, her co-star had been surprisingly… good. He didn’t bring his little gang of rowdy boys in tow with him on set, even if they waited outside for him some days, revving to go. He’d actually been practicing, rehearsing his lines in his alone time. She’d caught him once or twice after hours, taking up the stage to practice his part. 

In the script, his character was supposed to be somber. Low-key. Indistinguishable from the next guy. But Elvis couldn’t help but exude a humble confidence that somehow brought his character to life. He wasn’t method acting, he was bringing himself to the table. There was almost a vulnerability in how he was playing. She had to admit that some days, he might even be outshining her. Well, most days he outshined her in his own way. No one had really gotten used to having him on set yet and they were already a good few weeks in. He was still waited on hand and foot, every female extra and crew hand stirring for a chance to snag his attention.

They played it cool. “They” being a rigid definition for what Frannie and Presley were. “They” were just having fun. Fun that had to be secret from the prying public eye. She wasn’t ashamed of dabbling in under-garment petting with a guy she was going steady with. It was a high-strung tight rope that she balanced with her own spill of emotions. Like a vase filled with water on her head. One wrong step and it would all come tumbling out. She wasn’t ready to commit her heart to anything, to anyone—especially someone as… carefree as him. So, she just relied on the safe alcove of fun.

He was talking to Cassandra now. The director was showing him the photos of her and her friends on vacation in Italy and he glanced over at Frannie with a polite, silent scream in the form of a forced smile. She snickered, trapezing her way towards him.

“Did you see the photos of her holding up the leaning tower?” Frannie came to his rescue and his face instantly softened. He smiled at her.

“Yeah, I always wanted to take a trip and do that one myself,” he lied.

Cassandra belly laughed, flipping to another photo of her and her closest friend in a tiny boat floating down the canals. “You have to try it out. We wanted to book a river cruise back home but there’s just nothing to do on those things. Nothing but old geezers shambling around in their robes drinking martinis. You guys have to go. It’s beautiful. And the locals are so darling.” She flipped to photos of a glass maker and Frannie recognized from her own time in Cassandra Conversation Penitentiary that they were near the end of the bulging photo album. Poor Elvis had been trapped here for a good ten minutes at least, hunched uncomfortably with his hands in his pockets. She glanced up at him and stifled a laugh.

“Ready to get this show on the road? I’m sure Cassandra would love to get started instead of entertaining you, Mr. Presley.” She put her hands on his shoulders to gently steer him towards the casino set.

He nodded along in an apology to Cassandra. “Oh, I’ll talk your head off if you let me.” 

Extruding himself from the conversation with a long-held sigh, he leaned down to whisper to Frannie, “You think they’ll let you take that dress for a spin off camera?”

She shoved him playfully, her face flushed. This was a pretty hot red dress. It pushed the girls up and squeezed her midriff, cascading halfway down her thighs with a pair of nice gold heels to tie it off. Josephine liked glitz and glam, the inescapable lure of high rolling her shots, risking it all.

Grabbing at the choker around her neck, she fiddled with the clasp of it, loosening it a little when it started to get noticeable, a bit harder to breathe even. She coughed, finding that her throat wasn’t clearing. Her eyes started to water. Her mascara, surely it was running. She coughed into her fist and turned away, embarrassingly fanning her face. What on Earth was she choking on?

Frannie could hear Elvis worriedly saying something to her. His hands were on her upper arms. “Hey, you’re awful red, Frannie. Do you need to sit down?” He swiveled his head. There was a stir from onlookers, spotting her distress.

She tried to tell them that everything was okay, but when she spoke, her throat was dry and tight. She wanted to clear it, but every tickle made her throat painfully raw. And she was itchy. So very itchy. It was like her hair tickled her face but every stray, frustrated swipe brushed bare skin. She rubbed her face with her palms to soothe some of the itch. A seat found its way underneath her rump and she sat in it. Her mind was absolutely awhirl. What was happening? Was she allergic to the makeup? She’d worn it yesterday just fine. The brushes, were they infected? The air conditioning couldn’t be ruled out.

“I just can’t quite—” she rasped, trying to swallow. Her tongue was swollen. Now real panic had begun to set in. Someone put a glass of water in her hands and although she tried to get some down, she merely sputtered and choked more, giving it hastily back.

“Is she choking on something?”

“She was just talking to me fine and now she’s—now she’s like this,” Elvis hurriedly explained. “Someone get an ambulance, it looks like she’s been stung or something.” He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “And she’s burning up. We need someone here, now! Isn’t there a medic on set?”

People were scrambling. Her heart was racing. She focused on her breathing, slowly dragging in and out, doing her best to ignore the overwhelming urge to scratch at her face, her neck, the lobes of her ears.

“My god, Frannie…” Elvis murmured, petting her head. “It’s okay. Someone’s on the way to help. Did you maybe eat something or…?”

She shook her head, loosely pointing to her face, tongue too swollen to talk. She didn’t have any allergies that she was aware of. Whatever reaction she was having had plateaued. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears like a machine. Whoom. Whoom. Whoom. She was gripping Elvis’s hand so tightly, but he didn’t complain. 

It felt like ages for medical personnel to arrive on set. Cassandra had a shirt tied up full of ice she was using to try and keep the swelling down, the cool actually soothing some of the flare. 

The paramedic whistled, dragging up a rattling military green can of oxygen. The mask was fitted over her face and she eagerly inhaled the cool, sterile air. It breathed in easier and she managed to sedate some of the race in her heartbeat. But she still clung to Elvis while they assessed her, escorting her into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher. She was able to remain sitting up and managed to eke out, “You don’t have to—”

“Save it,” he assured her in two words, a finger held up before his caring smile. He was stricken with worry. It was cutting lines in his brow, darkening his handsome face. He leaned over her, helping her loosen the side zip of her dress so that the paramedic could see how far down her redness went. She glanced down, seeing it taper away. 

“You must have gotten into something, sweetheart. You maybe mess around with any poison ivy? Get any chemicals on your skin?” the paramedic asked. His blue gloved hands uncapped an indiscernible bottle of pills that at first Frannie adamantly avoided, turning her head to the side.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s just an antihistamine. It’ll make you feel better,” Elvis cajoled, turning her head back so gently. “S’okay. They’re gonna take care of you.” She could hear it in his voice.

Somehow, she managed to swallow down two tiny red pills that clung and clawed at her throat. She felt them plunk all the way down into her stomach. She went through her entire day, nothing different, nothing out of the ordinary. But the one thing she could parse that’d touched her face the most had been the make-up, the brushes, the working hands of the ladies. She was starting to lose sight, her cheeks swelling up and pushing against her eyes. She squinted, blinking slowly.

After a grudgingly slow ambulance ride and a few fumbling medicinal tryouts—Ana-Kits were more painful than she’d thought they’d be—the doctors finally surmised that somehow she’d crossed paths with poison ivy in some way, shape or form. Although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been traversing anywhere near wild foliage that wasn’t picked, shorn and manicured at a public park. She had an immediate, gut sinking thought. That someone had tainted her make-up. Before, it’d been a tiny sewing needle in her red lipstick, and now it was poisonous extract meant to make her very face look as unappealing as possible. Someone was trying to sabotage her!

For fear of not being believed and for tipping off whomever was tormenting her, she kept the secret tight lipped. She wouldn’t tell anyone, not until she had evidence along with her suspicions. She needed to confiscate that make-up before it could be tossed out.

After a few hours, the swelling had gone down immensely. She touched her face, shoulders sagging with relief. If she’d had to perform looking like this… she shook her head. It was entirely out of the question. She could tell that her skin was already flaking and dry, it was so tight against her skull.

Cold salve was applied to her skin, painted down to her chest, thick and sticky like tar. It melted with her body heat, magnifying her discomfort as it tickled her skin, running down in rivulets into the swathes of bandage they used as a levy. Never had she felt more unappealing and yet, steadfast by her side: sleeping Elvis. He was propped back, legs kicked open, head canted to the side, hands steepled in his lap. A glance at the wall said it was near a quarter till ten. And an anxious peapod stack of faces at the door said the Memphis Mafia was woefully a man down. She could hear them talking amongst themselves.

“What do you mean ‘he’s asleep’? You mean Frannie or Elvis?” Red West asked.

“You deaf? He. He’s conked out in the chair, upright stepdad style. Probably drooling and everything.” Marty quipped back.

“Is Frannie awake?” Jerry peeked through the glass.

“Yeah, she’s looking at me.” Marty said.

“Like, looking, looking at you? She’s awake? Coherent? Alive?”

“Get the hell out of the way.” They all tumbled into the room. 

“I’m the only one who even checked in. See, Frannie. Look at my visitor’s pass. Heh, told ‘em I was your cousin from Brooklyn ‘cuz we both have New York accents,” Marty said.

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Frannie laughed, her voice stuffy in her ears.

The boys laughed, the sound rousing Elvis instantly with a snore. He cleared his throat, blinking at them, his head snapping to her, eyes wide, scanning. His hands balanced on her bedside as he stood up, looking over her. 

“Francesca, are you alright?” He looked like he’d had a bad dream. Spooked. Displaced. He touched her, seeming to ground himself. “How do you feel?”

She was sheepish to be in the spotlight thusly. Without letting on, she said passively, “I must have had a reaction to the foundation.”

“How long do you think you’ll look like…” Jerry trailed. “Like you’re hankering for some aloe vera.”

There was a stirring of snickers. She licked her teeth and grinned. “Well, about two or three weeks. In the meantime, I have to stay out of the sun. I can’t have any beauty products on my skin for at least a month, even after I’ve healed. They’re worried I might develop an allergy to any irritants. So, it’s safe to say I won’t, uh—,” She swallowed, feeling a punch well up in her chest. But she didn’t cry about it, no sense in that. Just keep pushing forward. She blinked away the tears, the room stark silent. Still.

“Chess, it’s alright. You don’t even have to worry about that. Cassandra will put everything on hold for you.” Elvis, sweet Elvis assured. 

Chess. That was a new nickname; leave it to Elvis to shorten Fran-ces-ca to Chess. She loved it, even in her blurry antihistamine haze. And although she knew he was only trying to comfort her, assuage some of her deepest concerns mid turmoil, she was in pain. Someone was messing with her. On what should be her red-carpet debut film. She thought of her mother, of her warm, round face in the sun, telling her to make a wish on her birthday as a child.

“What’d you wish for?”

“For dance classes, Mamma!”

“I don’t want things put on hold for me. I want everything to be perfect, despite knowing very well that it isn't realistic. Filming has its flaws, critics have their teeth, ticket sales can disappoint. And sometimes the leading actress can turn into a crawfish days into filming.”

Elvis patted the back of her hand, urging her to peer up at him. “Well, prettiest little crawfish I’ve ever seen. Ain’t that right fellas?”

“Oh, you bet, boss.”  “Most gorgeous crawfish.” “I ever tell you guys that crawfish are my favorite food?” “Boys, get a load of that.”

They were all talking over one another in a cacophony and she was stuck laughing at them, those tears she fought off rearing their vengeful heads, blazing down her sensitive cheeks, out of sight before anyone could catch them. 

*

Filming commenced almost like usual. It could always be done in any order. Cassandra was more than happy to wait out Francesca’s bout of illness and told her not to push things, to return when she was good and ready after much needed rest.

The entire collection of makeup had been trashed and there were lacquered, shiny new replacements all glimmering in their place. Brushes and applicators were all replaced, leaving no wiggle room for cross contamination, just in case. Frannie had informed everyone that it was an allergic reaction, but Elvis knew what he’d heard. That EMT spotted it dead on, and even he recognized it when it was pointed out. The clouds of red, raised gooseflesh. The itching, the swelling. It was poison ivy. And a really bad reaction to it, at that. 

Had someone tainted Francesca’s makeup? Elvis absently touched his face. Surely a brush would have displaced some of that residue onto him, no? She’d gone to makeup after him, even. Things were starting to seem odd.

“Hey, Mr. Presley!” Eddie wretched him out of his pondering. He waved his newly healed arm flawlessly.

“I told you, Eddie, you can just call me Elvis. I’d prefer it if you did.”

The young man had come down to earth a bit, seeing Elvis humanized in his presence and not just some ideal. It was a nice, slow change of pace that he rarely got to experience with people unless on the set of something. He could get to know them, the real them. Sometimes that was nice. Other times, it could be daunting.

With Eddie, it was just pleasant. He was a nice, shy kid. But there was something there, a somber turmoil lying just underneath. The kid had sad eyes—his smile just didn’t quite reach them. 

“How’s Frannie? She looked real bad in the hospital that day.” He shook his head while heading up the scaffolding ladder to adjust a shoulder high light. 

“Better than ever. She wanted to come back today, but her agent wouldn’t let her.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best. She pushes herself so much already.” A live bulb popped in his hand and he barely flinched, taking another from his utility belt to replace it.

“She asked about you, wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into any trouble.”

“Only all the time, Mr.— Elvis.”

Speaking of trouble, he was thinking about getting himself in some tonight. Only the good kind, though. Francesca was feeling better. Although he hadn’t given a damn about some dry skin, her self image had taken a plummet. 

“Just when we were really getting to know each other…” She’d lamented over the phone, her velvet voice stroking his ear through the receiver. He missed spying on her dancing. He couldn’t wait for their moment to film a love scene together. One with some pretty smoking lines and heavy petting. It would be a short, passionate foray to leave the audience enticed, roused, wanting more. 

He’d shown up at her loft with gifts each day, fistfuls of tiger lilies and gladiolus, jewels to compliment her eyes, sweets to grace her mouth. He lingered in her doorway, where she wouldn’t let him in. Her apartment was gorgeous. Feminine. Art nouveau in black, gold and pink. 

Elvis asked her on a date. A date date. Somewhere he knew they wouldn’t be bothered with paparazzi, a fancy restaurant where other A-listers mingled under the pretense they wouldn’t be hounded by cameras while they tried to enjoy a pleasant meal.

“What’s this place called again?” Francesca asked.

“The Experience.”

The upgrade from waiting out on the street to waiting in her apartment hallway was drastic. He felt ten feet tall and bulletproof, and that was before she peeked her towel-wrapped head from the door and asked, “Would you like to come in? I still need to curl my hair, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all.” He practically jumped at the chance. He felt a giddy sense of boyishness to have achieved the feat of passing into her domain. It was so very Frannie inside, decorated lavishly with a touch of class. Everywhere his eyes fell, there was a new painting or statue to admire, a new glass menagerie of animals to be mesmerized by, a fluffy white cat nervously darting past his ankles! 

“That’s Stella. She’s shy. Don’t try petting her though, she’ll just bite you.” Frannie warned, while said “shy” girl looped in between his ankles, purring like a tractor. “Oh, well that’s new. She probably smells you on me.”

Elvis watched Frannie disappear into the bathroom. She had an Italian record playing. He had no idea what the lyrics were saying, but the song was warm.

É l'uomo per me,è sicuro di sé,da uomo so già,

i progetti che ha,i sogni che fa...Ma ciò che amo in lui,è il ragazzo che,nasconde in sé...

When she emerged, her dark brown hair in shiny gun barrel spirals, her body poured into a black wiggle dress, dainty feet strapped into red pumps. Stunning. She wore a pair of ruby studs in her pretty ears, ones he’d bought for her. On her neck, a string of gold adrip with a heavy blood garnet, another gift to her. It gave him a furl of pride, having her draped in his fineries. His gifts. He was growing erect just thinking about her parading about in lingerie he purchased. His mouth ran dry. Did she even know what she was doing to him?

“You know, you’re lucky I don’t feel like getting my bike out of storage.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, staring at her approach. Her hips swayed when she walked, her natural gait alluring him.

“Hmm, because I’d smoke you. And I don’t know the way. And I’d lose you and therefore, get lost out in the city. Probably have to ask for directions. Hey, has anyone seen Elvis come by here? Probably making this shocked face because his date made him eat her dust?”

Elvis laughed. “Alright. Alright. I’m intrigued. You know you’re going to have to show me up one day. You do have an unfair advantage though, being so small. The bike probably barely touched the road with you flying on the back of it.”

She tucked her arm in his, grabbing a dark leather jacket before scooting out the door with him. He admitted that he wanted to toss her over his shoulder then and there, find out firsthand what her bedroom looked like. But instead, like the true gentleman he was, he presented her with her own helmet and off they went, uptown, into the blinding lights where it looked like day.

An added bonus of the helmet meant that his identity was concealed up until the very moment he rolled up to the flabbergasted valet.

“Eh—El-Elv—,” his eyes were wide with shock and then his expression disappointedly fell. “Oh, I… I can’t drive one of those, sir. We have a gentleman who can, but he’s off tonight, you see.”

“Say no more, we can park it ourselves.” Not a bother. But it was a portent for things soon to come.

They were met with absolute professionalism; the star-struck gaped jaws stopped at the door. There were whispers, eyes, and head tilts once inside but nobody outright said anything. Still, he wondered if this was a bold, careless move. Would word get out? Did he mind? He minded if it bothered her. He checked her intermittently as they waltzed through the opulent dining room beneath a cascade of golden chandelier light. But she never seemed distressed. In fact, she appeared happy, with her hand in his.

The waiter took their orders with haste, showering them in complimentary drinks that mostly went undertaken. She sipped a sunset-colored drink a bit, already feeling a little flushed halfway down the flute.  

“Mr. Presley, your prime rib. And the chef sent these for you and your lovely date, on the house of course. We do hope you enjoy them.” He set out a sparkling pewter tray with a modest hunk of steak. Not exactly a belt adjusting meal, but he wasn’t about to look unrefined in front of his date.

That was until her meal arrived.

“Your Peking Duck, ma’am.” The waiter sat down a gleaming silver down, uncapping a waft of steam that revealed a marvelously pitiful cut of greasy, dark duck against a wilted pile of steamed vegetables. A ruby sauce cut across the two-bite meal and Elvis was glued to Francesca’s stunned expression.

Frannie’s eyes widened. Her lips thinned. The corners pulled up in the barest hint of a smile. She was struggling not to laugh. They’d waited over an hour for that little poot of fowl.

The waiter rubbed his gloved hands before reluctantly extracting without another word, hurrying off to avoid explaining exactly where all that money had gone. Elvis wasn’t a stranger to fine dining (though he always preferred the down home Southern cooking of his youth), but these portions were almost comical.

He looked at her and caught her staring right back and before either could say anything, Francesca burst out laughing, immediately covering her mouth, but nothing could cage that birdsong. She snickered, cutting her serving in half and offering him a spoonful. “Well, would you like to try a little of mine? I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish all of this on my own.” She sighed, picking at it playfully. Her foot glanced against his. He felt heat rush to his face. Been a long while since he felt such butterflies.

Elvis took her offering with gusto, but the bird was as greasy as it looked and the breading was staler than the salad croutons. He swallowed it down with a little choke, comically thumping his chest and taking down a gulp of seltzer water. Was the kitchen just having an off night, then? Did he crack wise about it? Was this the norm and he wasn’t aware?

But no, Francesca was almost in tears, taking her time with making a show out of slicing little slivers off to eat. Her eyes sparkled when she saw the complimentary desserts though and she gladly scooped up goopy, white panna cotta, reflecting that it tasted almost as good as her grandmother’s recipe. Strawberry dripped after her on the white tablecloth and she flinched, glancing up at him with an expression that said it all. His heart lurched in his chest. She was so… cute. Real playful like. The panna cotta, she ate with no qualms, no snickering. She even staked out his portion, which he gladly forfeited saying, “Like I said, already full up.” He patted his stomach, finishing the frustratingly teensy dish he’d been served. His stomach lurched, growling loudly in contest to the brassy piano.

She heard it and leaned forward. “I know this killer burger joint just a couple of blocks away from my apartment. I mean,” she made a gesture with her hands, showing how big around these sandwiches had to be. “Let’s get outta here. Leave that poor waiter a nice tip.”

“I’m already on it,” he flagged down the check and wiped his mouth, tossing down a wad for the waiter who nervously peeked at them from the kitchen door window. He waved, happily grabbing Frannie’s coat and draping it over her elegant shoulders. He got a heady waft of her perfume and it almost took him to his knees. The effort not to lean into her was grand, but he managed.

Out the door they went. The rain cleared, leaving just a misting in the air that glittered like diamonds in the streetlights. He watched her stroll towards the valet, he watched her settle on her helmet, he watched her lithe wrists slipping in under his elbows to cradle his waist, to hold tight to him while he rode with her. Never had he driven so slowly, so carefully. He made each stop with precision, gingerly pumping the brakes. 

The full moon followed them on a journey with no real destination. He just wanted to extend this moment with her, make it last for as long as he could. He didn’t want to go home yet. Not when nights could be spent like this. He felt her rest her head against his back. He felt her trusting him.

“You know,” she said above the rush of wind, “I’m not made of glass, Elvis. Unless you’re scared of going any faster? Pump it.”

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing, stirring him up like that. He gripped the bars, feeling the smooth stretch of highway extending into the star-studded night. The wind through his hair. The spray of cosmos fanned above them like God’s hands, brighter the further they drove from the city. Passing cars thinned until there were only a set of headlights every ten minutes or so. Out in the country, where all would be black if not for the milk light of moon, the prairie was lit up, cast in jagged mountain shadows. Streetlamps bounced like marbles in the distance, disappearing from sight.

He strolled the bike to a stop, pedaling his feet against the asphalt. Dismounting, giving her his hand, he’d brought her out to a retired cow pasture, left to see wildflowers and clover for the soil in the future. Probably not the ritziest location, but it beat a hell of a lot of other shit he’d been getting up to.

For the first time in days, he wasn’t itching for anything but time. More time with her.

She hadn’t said anything yet, she was just taking in the view, wide eyed and maybe even a little skittish. He helped her down a thrushy knoll, leaving the road and any hint of civilization behind as they danced through open terrain. It was like walking in a dream.

“Where are we going?” She asked curiously, watching him as they passed brambles. He stomped down the sagging barb-wire fence enclosing the wide, wide pasture and escorted her over.

“After you.”

She patted his shoulder and he could see the moon on her red, smiling lips. So beautiful it made his heart ache. “Such a gentleman. And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Alive and well, Chess.” He guided them deeper in. 

“Where did you find this place?” she asked.

The wind had picked up and in the hills they could hear the wail of coyotes intermittently yipping as they cut across the dark, unseen. “It’s a long story. It was the first time I went to Vegas with the boys, and I got drunk out of my mind. I mean, if someone handed me a beer or something that night, no questions asked, I was drinking it. I don’t even know why; I never drink. Anyway, so I wake up, completely alone, completely naked—”

Frannie snorted, spinning, crouching, pointing. Sweetly joyous at his expense. “No!”

“Yeah. Had my socks and my shoes on, but nothing else.” 

She couldn’t stop laughing. “What car?”

He gawked, “That! That’s what you ask me?”

“I just— haha!” She had to lean against him for laughing so hard. “I just want to picture it accurately! Were you working on your tan with the top down in the Cadillac?”

“No, no. I was driving this, okay, it was a Cadillac, but an “Eldorado Biarritz”. I hated that thing. The top leaked, she steered like a boat. There was this smell, like syrup had been spilled somewhere and I want you to know I got on my hands and knees smelling the inside of that damn car, trying to find what that smell was. Never did. But anyway. I’m naked, yeah, sprawled out like I’m tubing.” He posted his arms up, kicking up one leg. 

“You’re killing me!” She squealed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. They’d stopped now and they were both unafraid, undeterred by the darkness around them. Like no one else, like nothing else existed right in that moment. “So, you wake up absolutely cooked, right?”

“Bingo. Like a lobster, from head to, well, ankle. And I’m out of gas. I can’t even get her to turn over, I must have left it running in park, because I’m neatly pulled over in the shallow ditch. Just like the one we walked across now. I have absolutely no idea where I’m at. I’m thinking that I could start walking that way, or maybe that way. Don’t know where I’m about to end up. I could probably hitchhike, but I hadn’t seen any cars pass. I’m absolutely dying of thirst, my mouth was just like this.” He opened his mouth comically wide. 

She grinned, rapt on his every word, bundling up in her jacket. “Well, obviously someone comes to your rescue.”

Elvis pointed dead ahead to a fissure in the ground, a tiny creek carved its way, whispering through the meadow. Large, low flat boulders peeked from the ground.

“I keep walking, but I don’t take the road. Cause to my right, I see all the cows. Chewing, looking at me with their big ol’ sad eyes. At this point, I’m talking to the cows. Asking where their handler is and lo and behold, like some John Wayne yankee doodle comes down from the heavens with a canteen and a way to get me back to town, but only if I helped him out around the farm a little bit before I left.”

She tilted her head in that curious, bird-like way. “You’re kidding. Elvis Presley, rolling up his sleeves to lend a little elbow grease? I’m charmed by this new side of you.”

“Well, don’t fall in love yet, ‘cause I made that up. The boys and me just wanted a low-profile place to mingle a little uh, more…” He coughed. “Intimately with the ladies. Or just partying it up on a more reserved scale.”

His vision had adjusted to the dark and he watched her roll her eyes. “You’re unforgivable,” she said forgivingly, brushing her index finger down his nose. “You should direct something.”

“I’m not into that whole part of the deal.”

She shrugged, “You have a knack for storytelling. I was hooked on every word. You know, I’m still gonna tell people this story like it was true.” She laughed, clearly joking, but at the mention of her telling stories to anyone, he felt his collar constrict, his throat dry. Did she find him hard to work with? Was he making something out of this that he shouldn’t? He had to make it up to her then. If she saw him that way, it was up to him to change that, right?

Elvis looked along the creek bed a minute before spotting what he was looking for. He’d been up here just a few months ago, doing donuts in some cars and lighting fireworks with the boys. But now, he wanted to enjoy this with her.

A weary little woodshed housed dry twigs and branches. More than enough to build a small campfire. There were remnants of the old bonfire here, charred bottles and Roman candles laying in the ashes. Surrounding the pit were large rocks, hand-picked and tirelessly rolled up the embankment to make for rustic seating. She sat on one, looking like some fairy queen, moonlight a diadem on her dark locks. Heavenly.

He used his zippo to spark some leaves and within minutes they had a nice bundle of flames licking the damp wood, crackling moisture into the embers.

“Red found this place. He had to keep telling me that I was driving the right way. He used to work for the rancher that owns all this and got permission to search the cow patties for them magic mushrooms. But it’s also just a pretty clean spot just to unwind.”

He grew bored of clubs quickly. Parties were best thrown at his own place, and he didn’t feel like planning any damn parties lately. It was frustrating and tenacious, pushing away efforts for social interactions, even if he deeply craved them. He’d almost fallen into a rut lately. Flop after flop. But with Frannie, something was markedly different.

Breathing was easier. Going to filming on time, easier. Sleeping at night, knowing he’d get to see her again in the morning, like the sun rising, like the sun setting. She was always with him. It started with infatuation, tapering into obsession, and now he felt something roiling like a wild maelstrom inside of him. Feelings that left him unsure of what to do with himself, so he could only gaze at her, wringing his hands, wishing they were around her waist, pinning her wrists, caressing her face. He wanted to be so much more than a fun time to her.

“I really like it here, Elvis. When I was a little girl, I was in one of those programs where they’d take the poor city kids and plunk them into the country for a few weeks in summer. Y’know, to show us there was life outside the concrete jungle and stuff. That’s how I used to go on camping trips all the time. When I started making a little money and my career was just taking off, I’d take my family out to scenic places with me for every occasion. It was my go-to, pick-me-up. My kid brother got good grades in school. Road trip to Nevada! Mom’s birthday? Niagara Falls! Dad came down with the flu? How about spring break in Yellowstone?” She didn’t lose an ounce of her humor, even in telling him such vulnerable utterances. He didn’t know. “When I was little, I didn’t realize that I was so poor, and a tent and some cans of chicken noodle were maybe all my parents could afford to send me off with at the time. They were immigrants, you know. But they always made the most of it. I lost my mom a year ago.” She winced. Elvis understood how she felt, for he too was exceptionally close with his family—his late mother most of all. “And my dad is getting older now. Even though now it’s much harder for him to get around, he still sits in his garden back in Brooklyn, greeting all the new cicadas and weeding his veggie beds. He taught me how to can tomatoes. Which berries were safe. Did you know every multi-bulbed berry in North America is edible? All of them!” She was alight, sharing these things with him. He didn’t know it when he brought her out here, but maybe this was the best date he could have picked.

“So, you’ve been to Yellowstone?”

“Never. I was just joking about that one. My Mom actually wanted to go before she... anyway, I never got to go.” 

“Let’s go. As soon as filming is wrapped up. Ditch the red-carpet premiere and—”

The look she cast upon him made him icy at once. “It’ll be my first. I wouldn’t dream of missing the premier. My family will be there.” She blinked slowly and he realized that he’d made a mistake. “Sorry, I just…”

“No, no. Nothing to apologize for. I didn’t mean to make light of it. I know what a big accomplishment this is for you, Chess. I’ll share that moment with you. Promise.” He looped his pinkie finger in hers, making amends as quickly as he could, steering them back on course. Don’t fub this now, bozo. “But as soon as our butts are out of those seats, we’re taking a road trip straight to Yellowstone. I’ll bring a boatload of film, we can take all the pictures, make all the memories.” Was he rambling? Losing her? Floundering? 

“So, how much of that story was true? They say there’s something genuine in every imitation, an artist can’t help but leave a piece of himself behind.” She kept taking pieces of his heart, one stunning smile after the other, leaving her calling card in the wake of her theft. Did she know the effect she had on him?

He leaned in, telling her honestly, “Okay, I did wake up naked with nothing but my shoes and socks on one time, but no one knows how I got there or how the car got to the Denny’s parking lot.”

“See, that wouldn’t have been nearly as glamorous as an abandoned cow field.”

“I do have a way with these things,” he puffed up his chest and she deflated it with a push to his sternum. When he exhaled, his lips pursed, she closed their distance suddenly with a quick kiss. Her lips were soft in that moment, pressing against his. He was stunned when she retracted and he almost forgot to breathe. They were alone, out in the dark of night beneath pale moon beams aside a crackling bonfire, their desires stirred; he knew that the moment this started, it would be near impossible to stop. He didn’t trust himself to have the self-control necessary to curb his arousal. He wanted her. Badly. Deeply. 

“You look intense, Press,” she teased. “Are you worried you might mess this up?”

Press and Chess. He liked the sound of that. His hands instantly magnetized to the dip of her waist. His forehead was pressed against hers. Licking his lips, he told her, “If I’m honest with myself, I’m not even sure what “This” is.” To me. To you.

“What’s it feel like?” She asked, her breath fanning him, sweetly scented like rose water candies. Her fingers played with the baby hairs on his nape, breaking pleasant shivers along his flesh. 

“Feels like one wrong move and I could mess up a real good thing.” If his dream grew too fanatical, he’d jolt awake, dripping with a cold sweat, clinging to the sheets just to realize it wasn’t real. That it never had been, even if it’d earnestly felt that way. Touching her now grounded him in that reality. She’s here and she doesn’t seem like she wants to run for the hills. 

Francesca whispered, even though for miles and miles, only they remained. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

But he of all people knew how easy it was to fall out of that hazy paradise of affection and into bleak, tolerant monotony.

Elvis could see it in her eyes. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And if that was the case, she wouldn’t have any complaints if he dipped in for another smoldering kiss, taking her breath. She gasped, letting him gather her into his arms. Her fragrance wafted over him, suffusing him. He was dizzy, inhaling her, burying his nose in her neck when he kissed her gorgeous nape. 

Frannie couldn’t hide the shy pull of her shoulders. He knew she was still self-conscious about the poison ivy that’d marred her skin, but even without his love-struck bias, he could hardly see anything beyond a flush of pink, hidden beautifully by her own rosy glow as she bloomed underneath his ministrations. She was like sugar, melting into his touch. 

He laid her down by the firelight, the sway of flames painting them in dancing shadow. They were about to join in an atavistic way. Her kisses became feverish when he had her pinned. Intoxicated on a whole new kind of high, he couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted divine, better than any ambrosia. He licked his tongue against her, cajoling her to join him. Eliciting a little whimper, she did, canting her head to the side, lashes fluttering shut.

Elvis learned that Frannie’s ears were sensitive. His nose brushed across one and she shuddered beneath him, her nipples straining against her dress. She wore no bra. Kissing her ear, nibbling the curved shell, she was wiggling, sinking him like quicksand, till they were hip and hip like in her dressing room. He beat off to that on more than one occasion; it kept him company when she forbade him from seeing her healing face.

The real deal couldn’t be beaten. He was enthralled, wrapped around her finger. He wanted to coset her, give her anything she could ever ask for. Her dreams were great and if she wanted to be a star, he would do his utmost to manifest that with everything he had.

He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to ruin this moment or break the spell. Maybe he would wake up in his bed, alone. Maybe this was a dream after all. But Francesca felt very real in Elvis’s arms, returning his kisses, rocking her hips against him. He felt her heels on the backs of his thighs and it made his dick pulse unreasonably hard. She felt it, purring, tossing her head to the side.

“Push that against me,” she rasped, spurring him with a nudge. 

He happily obliged, thrusting against her. Heaven. He caged her beneath him, tongue in her mouth, cock throbbing against her silk panties. The clanging of his belt was muffled by his heartbeat. She freed him, her soft palms cradling his cock excitedly. Her eager eyes laid on him and she wetted her lips, amazed when a thick bead of pre-come beaded on his crown. She daubed her finger to it, bringing it up to her lips for a lick, almost absent mindedly, like she hadn’t realized what she’d just done. She was too erotic for her own good, pulling the thread and undoing him at her leisure. 

The fire tumbled, sending a shimmer of cinders into the air. Like the blaze she’d set in his heart, burning him from the inside out. He kissed her hard, hard enough to bruise and she didn’t glance away. Always step for step with him, perfectly in stride. She was unlike any woman he’d ever known.

He rolled her panties down and she helped, until she seemed to catch up with his own fervent pace and realize she might be going too far, too fast with him. Her words rang in his ears. 

No sex.

Elvis hadn’t done something so needy since his high school days. Feeding into her plump thighs, wedged in the snug warmth, he felt the tell-tell draws almost instantly, that lick of heat against the base of his spine. He was done for and not stopping to curb his indulgence one bit. He hilted deep, cock throbbing. When he started to thrust his hips, the tension coiled white hot with every drawn-out pump. Weight propped on his arms, he isolated motion solely to his pelvis, rocking against her in rhythmic strokes. 

“Ooh, I love the way you move your hips,” she stammered, holding onto him.

He sputtered incoherently, brows knitting as he slowed his roll to keep from spilling mid-sentence, mid thought when he said, “Now, just imagine how it’d feel buried deep inside of you.” 

Francesca moaned, turning to kiss him. With each drop, her hips rose up. He could feel her getting wet, could feel the heat radiating from her slick core. He couldn’t stop picturing it, just one adjustment and he could slam right in, would she hate him so much? Not a chance in the world he’d shatter her trust in him like that. But it was an amorous fantasy, Francesca begging for him to give it to her. His body was made for pleasuring hers, they were just so compatible.

She angled her hips and he felt his shaft glide between her lips. When he peered down at the dark thatch of curls, at the endless pink that did beg to envelop him, his resolve wavered. 

“Francesca, you’re going to ruin me.”

She signed his heart with her impish smile, acknowledging his agony with an eager pitch forward. If he let her move all on her own, she did so with serene grace, mesmerizing him with the sensual roll of her body. Her arms stretched up, her elegant back arched, her thighs drew him deeper against her. Even if she didn’t admit it, even if he busted clean across her pretty dress instead, he knew for a fact that she wanted him. She was glistening wet, cool air kissing his shaft the brief seconds their sexes would uncouple. 

It was the most intimate experience of his life and he wasn’t even having penetrative sex. He thrust against her and she cried out, “If you keep moving, just like that… you’ll make me see stars.”

Oh, that was the plan. He wanted her in the throes, cast out to choppy waters, he wanted her just as helpless for him as he was for her. He took measured lengths not to come, not until she got hers. His pace hitched and he sputtered, quickly getting back on track, listening to the even rise of her moans, strung deliciously together. Making music.

They held on, clinging to one another for dear life, kissing like young lovers, bumping teeth in excitement, lips mashing. Maybe he had fallen along the way, because he was losing himself in her.

“Frannie, you’re going to pull it right out of me,” he groaned, cradling her face in his hands while he plunged, losing grasp in one slip. But she was beyond words, her body arched on a soundless cry. She was beautiful in his arms, coming on him, because of him, wringing him dry across her creamy abdomen. Gorgeous, heaven sent, all his. He nosed her hair, he muttered sweet nothings, he kissed her damp brow. He wanted to tell her all the things he felt, about how he was both scared and elated that he was possibly tumbling deep into the maddening abyss of love. But he didn’t really know how yet and suspected that she might be the one to show him how to express it, to love someone. 

For now, he’d rest on his laurels, swimming in the tepid oasis of “fun,” where they might be something committed, but they weren’t an official couple. Like their names didn’t sound perfect together. His mind was a whirl one moment and then drained the next. He collapsed on top of her, holding his weight aloft while he just breathed her in, noting how her scent changed when it mingled with his.

“Did you see where my panties went?” She reached around on the ground but before they could both say anything, silently, they both spotted said panties go up in a hiss of flame, escorted in by the shifting wind. It was picking up now, getting colder, their breath clinging in the night air.

Frannie’s hair was mussed, her lips were parted, her dress was still askew (and now dirty on the back, but he wasn’t going to tell her about that part). They kicked dirt onto the fire, a haunting scene, leaving them to scurry back to the roadside with just the stars lighting their way. He felt her chilly hands trembling, but she told him later that it had been with excitement.

The moon was high in the sky and there was no telling what time it was. He didn’t care one bit as they saddled up, taking the scenic route all the way back to the city. Where the night sky all but disappeared under the haze of streetlights and skyscrapers, billboards and neon signs. It had an untamed beauty all on its own, the concrete jungle. 

“Tonight was amazing, Press,” Francesca said, kissing him goodbye, firstly on the cheek. “And you are an amazing experience, all your own.” Then she kissed his lips.

“You’re a once in a lifetime, Frannie.”

Elvis knew as he watched her leave that they’d have nights like this again and again.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 9

TW: Violence, blood, worry, bruises, choking

"What is the point?" Villain hisses, fingers tightening with a subtle threat at Hero's throat, leaving scattered bruises all over their neck in ugly shades of purple and brown.

"Of what?" Hero rasps weakly, playing the fool and gasping for air. They refuse to meet the villain's steel-hard gaze, trying their hardest to pry their fingers off of their neck.

The criminal aims a cruel kick to their ribs with their knee, force just shy away from causing a fracture. The crime-fighter lets out a wince, and the villain sharply tilts their chin up, forcing them to meet their eyes.

"You're going to kill yourself! Running back and forth between the agency and I, like some frenzied animal, trying to reach the unattainable," they snap, the muscles of their face contorting into an expression of pure, unbridled fury.

But behind the reinforced concrete wall of anger, their eyes still hold a look of hurt, a sign of something the villain had tried so hard to bury deep within their being, to obliterate and destroy, shattering it like a flimsy piece of glass.

Yet, the hero was willing to pick up the pieces, to prick their fingers on the thorns in Villain's rose garden, just to hold them close.

Wrenching their nemesis's hand off their throat, they push them away, still trying to be gentle. A damned fool, as always.

"It's not 'unattainable', Villain. I want to be a hero, to save people. And I still want to love you. You don't have the right to tell me how to live my life," they answer softly, gently resting a hand on their shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

The villain pushes their hand off like it was burning them. "You don't get it, don't you?" they say, tone disbelieving, shaking their head and laughing humourlessly.

"No," the hero says pragmatically, "I don't."

Villain let out an almost animalistic snarl, letting their fist collide with the crime-fighter's nose, drawing blood. "The desire I experience for you, these flames that I cannot put out, licking my heart and burning it blackened is not the one from the sonnets and the romances, Hero. It is the one from tragedies, torn apart and yet so incredibly close together, like a tapestry woven with the twisted threads of a cruel, beautiful fate."

"Then maybe," the hero says sharply, all the softness from their gaze gone, "I would gladly handle the heat of the flames." They pull the criminal close, kissing their jaw, leaving them dazed and at a loss for words, face flushed scarlet.

"But, it's wearing you down," the criminal attests, still breathless.

"Sweetness," Hero says softly, "I need to you to trust that I can do this." They cup the villain's face with their hands lovingly.

With a tenderness they don't think they deserve. . .

But, they nod at the hero fervently, eyes as wide as saucers, not saying a word because it didn't seem like it would make any difference.

They want, more than anything, to believe Hero, to register the kind words, to lose themselves in the feeling of being loved. But the sugar-sweet moments would always have a bitter taste; the villain's past, their fear of desecrating the hero trailing them like their own shadow. But Hero had always told them that their story didn't have to be a tragedy because it was theirs to rewrite.

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