#guess what's at auction right now

[bebemoon]

drew barrymore's renaissance-style ball costume from the film 'ever after: a cinderella story', (1998).

"It was a tough film to make – as it was filmed in the Dordogne with little access to fabric shops! We made as much as we could in London but still had to set up a studio in France with skilled seamstresses on site. I was given a free reign in terms of design. The costumes were loosely based on early 1500s silhouettes, but I wanted them to be magical rather than slavishly realistic - with more of a fairytale feel. The idea for the wings came from the script. Leonardo da Vinci was Danielle’s sort of fairy godmother and I based them on Leonardo’s drawings of his ideas for man made flight. The wings were made in London by Naomi Critcher had to flown over by plane with their own seat next to me. There were only two pairs made. This pair was intentionally distressed to reflect the character’s dismay as she sits forlorn in a doorway being pelted with rain, nursing her broken heart." - jenny beavan, costume designer

[jazeswhbhaven]

Fa La La La La Michael's on Sale (Christmas Miracle L-Card PROLOGUE Spoilers II)

Before you proceed!!! Check out Part 1 here ->

if you've already saw that, let's dive back in for the remainder of the prologueeee

So we left off at the auction, and Daddy Mammon was being Daddy Mammon. But he also explains how he views buying stuff in general, including being forward that the "gifts" MC assumed were gifts are things that they needed for the function lmao

Damn if that's a necessity to you then a gift is like....probably very very expensive or heartfelt or something like that. At least to Mammon. He even explains his buying process to them

So how he sees it, everything in this world is already his and he's just sharing it with everyone and allowing them to enjoy it as well. When he pays the store or anyone for anything it's basically him rewarding them for keeping his stuff safe until he needs it again later regardless of the reason, he wants it for. He's adorable.

So while all of that is happening and he's trying to see what it is that MC would want to buy, Michael literally fucking plunges from the sky into the building like nothing.... Like when I tell you that's the funniest shit I've read for both prologues where the angels literally just fell from the sky forcefully and they were probably just minding their business for the day, it's Christmas so they're like meh we're chilling, gonna wait til the day after and Y E E T bam down the hell for whatever reason lol

So here's a couple rumor lore for our seraph boi. Apparently out of the three, he's really cutthroat and doesn't give a fuck about it. His judgment usually ends with him killing you basically because no one is pure in his eyes. SO at this point everyone is hauling ass trying to escape before he gets murder happy.

He notices that MC is there and acknowledges their presence, and his forever crying eye because he's always like that is dripping tears (I like to make a joke he has allergies....to sin....)

So Mammon tries a sneak attack and it seems to not work against him and he's like confused, MC is confused, EYE am confused because wtf is Michael suddenly invincible???

So he's referring that Mammon is the most sinful devil king...I guess in his eyes being greedy is too much and should be punished right away. I guess he just doesn't see the potential in the other kings huh? /j

So Mike here starts shooting bolts of energy, blades of light, everything he's got toward Mammon and MC, none of it lands or hits. Everyone is watching confused YET again and Mammon is the only one that seems to get it.

A what now?????

So remember in the beginning where Minhyeok basically sat up there and wished for peace wherever MC was so they could have a peaceful Christmas? I mean canon-wise he's been to hell before and knows exactly how rough it is for MC and the others, so he made this wish thinking about that and turns out...

The rules of "Santa" work in Hell when it comes to wishes. Mammon can't attack Mike and Mike can't kill any devils for the day.

That's right buddy, no murder party for youuuuu <3

I love his angry face here, he's so pissed off lmao. But basically what happens shortly after...since he's powerless and pretty much fucking useless, the devils gang up on him and chain him up and such. Mammon threw out the idea of "wonder how much he would cost?" and now...angel boi is part of the fucking auction lol

So they're having MC 'test' out the product which in this case is Michael. Apparently in the past Solomon tested out various products before they were auctioned off and so they are having MC do the same. Honestly, the expectations put on MC are so odd sometimes. Like come on their granddaddy from centuries ago was from a different time and had some crazy magical powers and shit and so far MC has only been able to tap in like a 4th of that power. Maybe not even a 4th T^T But regardless they're eating up Michael with their eyes and he's of course being a brat about it.

It appears that during the scuffle, the devils were able to pitch together and come up with an info card, only had to use minimal chains, a golden gag (I assume he was fucking biting people lmao) and well...I'd like to think now that the angels automatically have their cock/chastity cages just by default. The design of their cages remind me of 'Dick Fight Island' hahaha. And MC is just like damn, I guess it wouldn't hurt having a little taste??? Just a small one? And it's just like yeah I'd probably figure out how to unlock that cage and tease his cock a bit... But also this is giving some pretty triggering content based on the fact clearly....Michael is against this, because he's glaring at MC like he could murder them on the spot. He was outnumbered, chained up, and now being sold as a possible sex slave. But oh take a look at his sprite!

Even his sprite is not having a great time lmao he is p i s s e d. Pretty much rabid and can go off any moment. But the reason I want his card is that in Secret Club.....I know he's going to react to our touches and he makes that delicous pleasure face like he can't help it and mmmm this is fueling angel headcanons all over the fucking place for me. I swear I gotta make a self indulgent fic about how angels react to being touched after their cage is removed.

And this is so fucking cute of Mammon....MC is just standing on stage ready to doing their thing and Mammon is waving at them like "Hi sweetie, you're doing great <3 Luv youuuu"

This is why I love him. But anyways the prolouge ends with MC unbuttoning Mike's shirt and I'm just sitting here like UGHHHHHHHHH at this point I'd pay for each story that comes out as a whole just so I can skip this whole you have to unlock it in the unholy board stuff....because honestly if PB told us "hey if you'd like to buy Michael's L-card story, pass us like $30 or $5 per chapter" I'd find a way to pay for that. I just want the stories at this point, this grinding stuff is wearing me out lol

I DIGRESS though. From the prologue alone it looks like this story is going to get s p i c y and if I'm right??? MC is probs gonna make him cum in front of the audience, so it's exhibitionism, humiliation, and degradation (really for all of the angels cards it seems because they're in a public place)

So it looks like I'm done reacting to this <3 Later today I'll try to get Raphael's done. Thankuuu for sitting with me

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[liliththeimp]

Farmhand! Simon HC’s (fem!reader, SFW)

Farmhand. Farmhand but in a way that will water down the harsh southern living into sweet tea and fireflies and cattle all because I'm a silly delulu squirrel who wants my life to be easy right now.

I'm into escapism and fake scenarios can't you tell?

Anywho, my main point about this is I can't stop thinking about farmhand! Simon and its curing my depression a little bit so heres some head cannons lol

(Ain’t proof read, per usual :P)

—————

Farmhand! Simon, who you met after returning home from a trip with your friends, the new masked face a surprise addition to your grandfather’s ranch, considering your grandfather ain’t one who asked for help often. Let alone someone from England.

Farmhand! Simon, who decided to move to the states for a job opportunity, and innocently assuming he’d take care of a lonesome old couple and that was that. Little did h know he’d find your cute little puppy ass fluttering around him curiously every time he turned around.

Farmhand! Simon, who is very distant and quiet, no matter what advances you made to try and slink around to bother him, he would always shy away with a grunt and wrangled horses into their stalls, and your guess was he wasn’t very friendly.

Farmhand! Simon, who is embarrassed by your sudden appearances and advances into helping. He’s grateful for his hat and the bandana tied around his face to hide his embarrassment around you- otherwise you’d find out underneath all that he loved checking you out in that short red gingham dress, the way it rode up your thighs when you bent over the fences to hand him water or reach for his hat to spite a reaction from him.

Farmhand! Simon, who will wake up at the crack of dawn to make back tea and gets the feeding out of the way, so if you woke up early enough, you were able to spot him hard at work before the sun glinted across him.

Farmhand! Simon, who helped carry laundry baskets for you outside before rudely dropping them to go collect some bails of hay for the horses, it only because he got so embarrassed by the way you’d look up to him as you talked, fluttering your lashes like you two were friends.

Farmhand! Simon, who finds you asleep in an empty hay-blanketed horse stall next to Gideon, the newborn horse calf. It melted his heart a bit, seeing the glow on the sunset glisten across your skin, kissing your hair and making you glow even more than you should. To see you curled up against the calf so sweetly.

Farmhand! Simon, who begrudgingly picked you up from your napping post and up into his arms effortlessly, carrying you across the field for a few minutes to admire your sleepy features, the way you twitched your nose, the way you curled up against his chest, curling the fabric of his flannel in your fingers as if you weren’t close enough.

Farmhand! Simon, who put you up to your bed, brushing a stray curl from your temple to hesitantly peck your forehead, bushing his finger across your lips for good measure.

Farmhand! Simon, who will eventually start to come closer to you, and begins to allow your help around the ranch.

Farmhand! Simon, who will work from 5am-12pm for a break and walks in on your making him some lunch (embarrassingly refuses to eat in front of you, instead goes out into the barn to eat with the animals.)

Farmhand! Simon, who nearly looses his mind at how you cook for him, sweet or savory, he thinks it’s divine.

Farmhand! Simon, who got so love sick at your appreciation, went to an auction and got you a new calf, which you name Duck.

Farmhand! Simon, who starts thinking this is your illegitimate child together, (will also get a bit jealous at your attention for the calf instead of him, he wouldn’t allow himself to really feel to though, cause why would he want that nasty fluffy crap?)

Farmhand! Simon, who will bring you out late at night to capture deep in the woods, the virescent glow of fireflies that dances around you lit up your eyes with a beaming smile like some puppy chasing them through the trees, while he watches for afar, finding that this was the moment he fell in love with you.

Farmhand! Simon, who has gotten so comfortable, on his breaks he’ll let you make him picnics and eats with his bandana off, but inched away -only cause he’s shy of you starring at him like he stares at you- or the potential denial of his scarred features who scare you away,

Farmhand! Simon, who will give you a giant bear hug before you or he goes anywhere, just to make sure ;)…especially if youre out in town, he’ll be sure to keep any small town weirdos from getting to close to you.

Farmhand! Simon, who will eventually become so lax around you, he enjoys the time you take to be around him, laying your head on his stomach as you read, the low buzz of the radio drifting around you with the sound of crickets starting to chime together at the sunset. While Simon’s hand had a beer in it, the free one hesitantly inches towards the ends of your hair, twirling the strand around experimentally, hoping you didnt feel it while he memorized the softness and texture, hoping one of these days he can fully run his and through your hair.

Farmhand! Simon, who eventually kisses you the night before you leave for college, wanting you to understand he would wait for you, if you’d wait for him too.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 35: Oliver's Walk

Previous Masterlist Next

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

Oliver woke up slowly, stretching and yawning and rolling over several times to doze off again, before finally sitting up.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He was utterly relaxed as he lounged in bed, with nothing particularly pressing driving him out of his soft cocoon of blankets. He was free to daydream about what had happened the night before, how pleasing he'd been to his master.

He'd successfully fed his master, made him happier and stronger, fulfilled the purpose Miss Lily had set for him back at the auction house, and it felt just as good as he'd hoped it would. Better, truly. 

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, so he had some time before Alexander awoke. He didn't even really seem to have particular duties here besides the feedings and making his master coffee. He'd have plenty of time to have breakfast and read.

Before too long, he was in the library with a steaming hot mug, perusing the books once again and trying to pick out something to sit down with. He chose a comprehensive-looking book on merfolk, bound in attractive teal letter with embossed silver ink, and was delighted to find that it was illustrated with many interesting plates of strange sea creatures.

All of this was real -- merfolk, vampires, magic -- and he was a part of it.

It felt right, the distress of how he'd arrived here slowly starting to ebb from his mind. It was just so comfortable here in his Master's library, curled into a leather sofa with a mug of rich coffee.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, forcing Oliver to ignite a gas lamp to have enough light to read, he remembered that he wanted to make fresh coffee for his master as he awoke. It was the least he could do, really.

He bought you at auction, you were kidnapped --

Oliver pushed aside the unhelpful intrusion as he bustled about the kitchen. He was here now, with no means of escape. Wasn't it better to be contented with it?

"Good evening, Oliver," said Alexander from the kitchen doorway. "I thought I smelled coffee. Thank you for making it."

"You're welcome, sir," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. His master really did look much healthier, his eyes brighter and skin less deathly pale, and he was glad to see it.

Useful, he was useful. And wanted. 

Alexander sipped at the coffee, and nodded in approval. "The weather is fine tonight, if a bit brisk. I was thinking some fresh air would do me good. Would you care to accompany me on my walk?"

"Yes, sir!" Oliver eagerly jumped at the chance. He hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes ever since the night he'd been kidnapped.

Soon enough, he was perusing his wardrobe for something warm that didn't expose his neck, and settled on a soft red flannel shirt and slacks. Everything fit him perfectly, which made sense given that his master had his measurements from the auction house.

And then his master opened the front door, and he was out in the cool night air, in the ordinary bustle of the city, unrestrained except for the very real fetters on his mind. Alexander just trusted him to stand on the sidewalk and wait patiently while he fiddled with the key to the mansion. Oliver glanced around at the ordinary people going about their usual nightly business. A workman in overalls tipped his hat and bid Oliver good evening. No one would ever have guessed that he was in thrall to a vampire.

"How about the park?" Alexander wrapped around Oliver's arm possessively as they began to make their way down the street, stirring up the deeply buried desires Oliver had often felt while watching other people walk down the street arm-in-arm. Even if they were master and thrall and not lovers or even truly friends... perhaps he was affection starved enough that simply feeling wanted was enough.

He couldn't help but notice how passersby seemed to instinctually give them a wide berth. It was no doubt a result of his Master's vampiric aura. How had he not sensed it before, when Alexander was a customer in his shop? Or had he, and it was one of the things that had interested him in his former patron long before he realized Alexander's true nature?

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it? Crisp and clear," said Alexander, He gazed up at the sky, and Oliver's gaze followed. The moon was half-full and bright stars were visible, with no clouds in sight. "An ideal night for stargazing. Perhaps I'll perch myself on the roof later. You're welcome to join me. I could teach you how to read the stars."

"You know fortune-telling, sir?"

"A dear friend of mine taught me," he said. "I don't put real stock in it, of course. Comforting fairy tales."

"I've rather always enjoyed comforting fairy tales, sir."

"As do I." 

They passed a grand theater, where well-dressed patrons in fine suits and furs were lining up to see an evening performance. Alexander stopped to look at the scene. "Do you enjoy live music, Oliver? The theater? Stage performances in general?"

"It's not something I partook in often, sir, but I think I would enjoy it, given a chance." Money had often been tight, movies were cheap, and books were always at hand, so the sort of high society entertainment offered by the theater Alexander was pointing out to him had not been a priority.

"The next performance at this theater is going to be a renowned ballet company from France. I've been spending too much time hidden away in my manor lately, so I was thinking of attending. Would you be interested?"

"Me, sir?" He was surprised that his master was inviting him along to the ballet, as though he were a companion and not a thrall. "I think it'd be very interesting, but I don't know the etiquette. I don't want to embarrass you, sir."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't embarrass me in the slightest. You're perfectly conditioned and I would set out an appropriate wardrobe for you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing other than enjoying the dance. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds more than agreeable, sir," he said, pleased that his master trusted him, and that he would be allowed entertainment and pleasurable outings.

They reached the park, and the moon and flickering gaslights gave just enough light for Oliver to see the trees turning red and gold. It'd be the height of fall soon enough, and he'd been looking forward to fresh apples and cooler temperatures. Now, he was just grateful to be here in the park, with the chill night wind blowing across his face -- during his time in the auction house's captivity, he had often feared never seeing the outside again.

"Oliver," said Alexander, breaking his train of thought. "I would like to get to know you better."

Oliver looked away. "I'm afraid there isn't a lot to get to know, sir. You already know of my bookshop, which consumed the bulk of my time."

"I'm sure there's more than that." His intense eyes bore down on Oliver. "I wish for you to be happy while you're in my care. What is it that you want? I'll try to provide, if I can."

Was this a test? "I wish to serve you, Master?"

The displeased look in his Master's eyes indicated that that wasn't the answer he wanted. "I mean before all this. Before me, before vampires. I want to honestly know what it was you desired from life."

He was a bit stunned that his master had even asked that, surprised that he could still have desires other than feeding and serving the vampire. What did he want?

Growing up, he hadn't had much in the way of dreams. Dreams were for the books he read. His designated path was to inherit the bookshop from his ailing father and run it according to his best instincts -- and he'd been reasonably content with that future. Other dreams, of seeing the world, of adventure and romance, of art and culture, those had always seemed so far away, meant for other people. There was no use in trading a comfortable, ordinary life to chase something risky. He'd never been the sort.

Strange, then, that the first time in a long time that he'd given serious thought to what he wanted in life was after being imprisoned and conditioned.

He trusted his master. He didn't think he would be punished for speaking his mind. He'd said there would be no punishments, after all.

"I would like to travel, sir," he said softly. "I always wanted to see more of the world than this small city. To enjoy different cultures, to see the sights I read about in books... but money was always tight, and I had the bookshop to look after, and the idea of leaving home was overwhelming. But that's one thing I think I might want."

"Indeed. I'm much the same." Alexander sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm as trapped in the city as you, the curse of my sire. Otherwise, I would happily take you along to travel the world. Someday..."

"Why has your sire trapped you in the city, sir?"

"What else would you desire?" said his master, as though he hadn't heard the question. "There must be something in my power to grant you."

Something smaller, perhaps. "I enjoy sketching, although I've never been good at it. If I could have a notebook and pencils."

"Of course, that's no trouble at all. I'll locate the finest supplies in the city. Anything else?"

"Well... I spent a great deal of my time thinking about the supernatural, sir," said Oliver. "Now that I know that the inhabitants of fairy tales and horror stories are real, I think I'd enjoy learning all that I can about them."

Alexander brightened at this. "Now, that's absolutely within my wheelhouse. When we return to the manor, I can put together an assortment of books that will serve as a primer on the actual supernatural world, not the fantasies imagined by humans," he said. "There are places I could take you to meet more of my kind, and others besides. Social clubs I don't often frequent, but would be welcome. I could keep you safe."

"Oh, can you?" said a snide voice behind them.

His master whipped around in a flash, pushing Oliver behind him. It was a young woman in a torn, dirty red dress, her messy hair falling around her face. "You've got a real treat there, don't you?" she said, grinning. "He smells delicious, and I'm awfully hungry."

"Newly sired," Alexander said. "I advise you against challenging vampires like me unless you are sure you can win. There's plenty of blood in the city, but also plenty of vampire hunters, and a fight could attract their attention."

"What's a little attention? I'm not just hungry for blood, you know. I'm hungry to take down cocky old vampires like you who haven't been challenged in a century. I think -- I think --"

His Master's vampiric aura had been growing unbearably thick and oppressive as they talked. Oliver found all thoughts being forced from his mind, fighting the urge to drop to his knees in a daze. The other vampire seemed to be struggling just as much, her speech faltering and knees shaking.

"I remember what it was like to be a young vampire," said Alexander, stopping a few steps away form her. "That's why I'm going to give you a chance to leave. Go to 32 Sparrow Road, about a mile and a half from here, and you'll find a place that sells blood cheap. Have your fill there."

The vampire nodded slowly, and then faster, backing away from his master and breaking into a run.

"You scared her off," said Oliver, as his thoughts began to return to him.

"It's the best way to handle situations like this. It's unlikely she'll last out the winter, but I don't care to be the one to kill her. Even if she's learned her lesson about confronting stronger vampires, she'll probably be picked off by a hunter while stalking the streets for food." Alexander shrugged. "In fact, if there are fledglings about, there are probably hunters. Let's go home before we receive any more unwanted company."

Oliver wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Alexander really was gripping him more tightly on their way back to the manor.

"Let me check the mail before we go inside," said Alexander, pulling a few cards from the box. "Oh, a calling card from Lily. I suppose she did say she would be by for a social call soon. And she wants to bring Ruth." He turned to Oliver. "I believe you've met Lily's thrall, Miriam. Ruth will probably bring her favorite thrall, Charlie. You'll have someone to talk to that isn't a vampire."

"That sounds very good, sir." Oliver was surprised yet again, as he didn't expect to be allowed to socialize with other thralls. Miriam wasn't much of a conversationalist, but perhaps this Charlie would be better.

His master was flipping through a few more envelopes until he reached one plastered with stickers and stamps. Overseas mail, it seemed to be. Alexander's face lit up in a way Oliver hadn't seen before. "Let's go in."

Alexander only stopped briefly to remove his shoes and coat before heading into the library, Oliver trailing behind. He tossed the rest of the mail down on the desk before fetching a letter opener and ripping open the mail that had captured his attention. His eyes traveled back and forth rapidly, his smile growing.

"Sir?" said Oliver, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Oliver," said Alexander, startled as though he'd forgotten Oliver was there. "My dear friend is arriving for a short visit in the next few weeks."

"You seem very pleased about this, sir," he said. "Is your friend also a vampire?"

"You have nothing to fear. He'll like you."

He noticed that Alexander didn't say that Oliver would like him.

"I was going to put together a reading list for you, wasn't I?" said his master, breezing past Oliver and into the stacks, that uncharacteristic smile still plastered on his face. "Let me put that together, and that will occupy you while I compose my response to my friend."

Oliver nodded, questions swirling in his mind, unsure which, of any, to ask, and feeling that Alexander was likely to dodge them all.

Previous Masterlist Next

A bit of an interlude before the shit hits the fan.

I'm trying to build up a bit of a buffer so that I can continue weekly postings of the main story, and then I hope to burn down some of this inbox backlog...

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Gold Rush (Superstar Chapter 3)

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Roy and the Reader attend Rebecca’s charity ball... and uneasy feelings arise.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.7k words

Warnings: Language, Keeley making ~flirty~ suggestions, and a healthy sharp turn from fluff to angst

Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback on this series- I don’t deserve it! And big thanks to those who suggested a little bit of jealousy. Some of this was almost painful to write, so I’m excited to share my torture with you!

~

“Oi, did you get a dress for Friday yet?” Keeley plopped herself on my desk, not bothering with formal greetings. She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Friday…?” I closed my laptop, knowing I wouldn’t get anything done with Keeley in my office.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Rebecca’s charity ball! You’re going, aren’t you?”

Right. Rebecca’s big charity gala. She’d told me about it during my first couple of days at Richmond and extended a very enthusiastic invite, but I’d been so distracted by getting used to the job and starting up a romance with a certain football legend that I’d all but forgotten about the event.

“Oh. Right.” I made a face. “You don’t really think she expects me to go, right? It’s not like it’s a mandatory part of my job or anything.”

Keeley rolled her eyes again. “Of course you have to go! There’s fabulous music and free booze and good food. And the boys’ll be there and watching them get auctioned off is a hoot! Besides, it’s just a fun excuse to dress up and have a good time with everyone.” Her round eyes pleaded. “I’ll help you pick a dress,” she offered in a sing-song voice.

I groaned and tossed my head back, not bothering to hide my small grin that grew at the thought of a fun, fancy evening with everyone from the club. “I mean, I guess,” I grumbled.

“You guess what?”

Keeley’s eyes widened with excitement at the sound of Roy’s voice. “Oh, hi Roy!” She grinned at me not-so-sneakily. “We were just talking about Rebecca’s ball this weekend. You’re going, right?” Roy grunted in response. “Aaaaaand do you have a date?”

Roy’s eyes flickered in my direction for a fraction of a moment. “No.”

“Interesting.” Keeley looked like the fucking Cheshire Cat. “Say, Roy-”

I cleared my throat. “Roy, didn’t you need to go talk to Ted about that defensive strategy you wanted to try?”

He immediately took the hint and played along. “Fuck. Thanks.” He turned with his usual robotic stiffness and stalked out of the office, leaving Keeley and me in silence.

“Come on, why’d you do that?” Keeley whined, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I was totally going to ask Roy about going to the ball with you!”

I shrugged, trying to keep calm. “Roy had coaching shit to do. Just doing my job. You know, being the coaching assistant and all.”

“Whatever,” Keeley scoffed. She paused, leaning close to the wall behind my desk, her mouth widening with glee. “Ho-ly shit. What the fuck is that?”

My eyes followed hers.

To my biggest fan. XOXO Roy Kent

Oh shit.

“Some stupid joke,” I mumbled, opening my laptop again, desperate to look too busy to chat. “I told Roy that my family’s big Richmond fans, he gave me some shit about it and wrote the note as a joke, that’s about it.”

“Look at you two, flirting in the workspace with a sexy orange sticky note.” Keeley winked at me. “Good for you, babes. Now all you have to do is let me help you pick a bangin’ outfit that’ll catch his attention Friday night!”

I narrowed my eyes at the girl who was having too much fun at my expense. “How about you help me pick something that looks nice, I’m comfortable in, and doesn’t kill my budget? We can leave Roy Kent out of my outfit.”

“Unless you’re looking super fit,” Keeley countered, jumping off my desk and heading towards the door. “In which case, Roy Kent will be spending the evening trying to get into your outfit.”

~

The night before, Roy had called with an offer to come over with food and a movie after work; it would be our first at-home hangout. I skipped out on work a tad early, complaining of imaginary cramps that Ted was immediately sympathetic to, so I could give my flat one last look over. I tidied up the things I hadn’t gotten to that morning before work and hid some of the more embarrassing family pictures that I wasn’t quite ready for Roy to see- like the one where my family and I wore the handmade Christmas jumpers my gran had made for us, each featuring the Greyhounds logo front and center. Nope, Roy freaking Kent did not need to see that.

With the flat tidy, I changed into some leggings and a cozy sweater, still wanting to look nice despite Roy’s assurance that all he wanted was a casual, comfortable evening together. I was running a brush through my hair when the now-familiar knock reached my ears. Trying not to look too giddy, I all but ran to the door and threw it open.

Roy stood in front of me, holding a box of pizza with a couple of DVDs on top. His face softened when he saw me, the way it seemed to always do when we were finally alone. He wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for the tiniest kiss as I pulled him into my flat, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he huffed when he let me go.

“Hi,” I whispered back, suddenly shy around the man I had just been kissing in an empty office hours earlier. Perhaps it was the fact that Roy Kent was standing in my flat, leaving us, for the first time since we’d been at my parents’ house, truly alone. Not surrounded by very well-meaning, nosy coworkers at the Dog Track. Not glancing over our shoulders at pubs to make sure no one was snapping a pic of a football star and a mystery woman. Just us, me and Roy, Roy and me, free to kiss and be close and just be a normal couple.

Couple. Whoa. There was a word I hadn’t allowed myself to say yet. It had only been a couple weeks of sending flirty text messages during meetings and sneaking kisses when Ted and Beard weren’t in the neighboring office and sitting in dark corner booths of pubs far from the prying eyes of A.F.C. Richmond, but already this felt serious. Real, as Keeley had mentioned the morning after my first date with Roy. Something that wouldn’t end with me stealing Roy’s watch in the middle of the night as he slept. (Yes, that’s what a model he dated did. No, I hadn’t brought it up yet, although I had plenty of jokes waiting for when the topic did inevitably arise.) Something that- and this felt way too soon to even whisper to myself in my innermost thoughts- might not have to end.

Roy could probably see the gears turning in my head, based on the face he was making at me. “You alright?” he asked, placing the pizza box on the coffee table. “You look like you’re thinking about somethin’.”

I shook my head, reminding myself to just enjoy getting to be with him. “Nah, just… I kind of can’t believe you’re here.” With the pizza out of the way, I could wrap my arms around him. “Like you’re here. Roy Kent. In my flat.”

The concern on his face was replaced with amusement. “Ah. Now I see the resemblance between you and your dad.” I blushed at the reminder of my father’s too excited reaction to seeing Roy Kent in our foyer. “It’s flatterin’,” he assured me, kissing the tip of my nose. “In fact, I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t have a shrine to me here.” He lifted his head and looked around my living room. “Such a shame,” he hummed.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” I huffed, giving him a squeeze. “It’s not cute.”

“Fine. Can I be full of pizza then?”

I laughed and released him. “That works. Let me just grab some plates.”

Roy followed me to the kitchen, on my heels like a puppy. My heart swelled at the realization that he probably wanted to take advantage of being alone with me. I handed him the plates I pulled from the cupboard, reveling in the quiet, domestic moment, how natural it felt to get out plates for a quiet dinner at home with Roy Kent. I turned to the fridge and grabbed a couple of sodas, then led Roy back into the living room.

Curious about what Roy brought, I made a beeline for the DVDs. I didn’t bother to hide the surprise on my face when I saw the cover of the one on top.

“The Sound of Music?” I blurted incredulously, looking over at Roy as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

His eyes narrowed as he opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “You got a problem with that?” he growled, the playful look in his eye daring me to judge his movie pick.

I shrugged as I turned on the television and set up the movie. “Nope. I love The Sound of Music. Just not what I expected from you.”

“What’d you expect? Fast and the Furious? Transformers?”

“Or something dark, like The Shining,” I suggested as I joined him on the couch. “Not Julie Andrews.” I paused. “Not that I don’t love her,” I assured him. “She’s brilliant. Sound of Music is brilliant. Just a bit unexpected.”

Roy chuckled and scooted closer to me, pressing his thigh against mine as he leaned onto the couch. “The Shining,” he repeated. “A guy goes fucking nuts and tries to kill his family. Yep, that’s the kind of romantic impression I want to make.” He pointed at the screen, where scenes from the movie danced before us as the soundtrack played in the background. “This is fucking romantic. Sixteen Going on Seventeen, Edelweiss, Something Good, the fucking wedding with all the nuns singing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria. Romantic as hell.”

I hit PLAY and grabbed myself some pizza, not bothering to hide the smile on my face. “Romance, huh?”

Roy smiled and shook his head. “Just watch the fucking movie.”

~

“Fuck, I’m so obsessed with the curtain dress,” I sighed, pressed against Roy’s side as Julie Andrews pranced around onscreen. “D’you think I’d look good in that dress?” I turned my head up towards Roy, who eyed me warily.

“I think you’d look good in anything,” he mumbled. He wrinkled his nose. “Was that too fucking cheesy?”

“Just cheesy enough,” I assured him. “If you think I could rock the curtain dress, just imagine me in the Mother Superior’s habit.”

He snorted, a huge smile gracing his face. “Once again, you’d look good in anything.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Speaking of dresses,” he said, clearly looking for an opening in the conversation, “are you going to that fucking charity thing?”

I sat up a little. “That’s actually why Keeley was in our office today. She was asking me about what I’m going to wear and bugging me about asking you to be my date.” I fidgeted with my hands. “And you’re going, I assume?”

He nodded. “Kinda have to. At least this year I don’t have to worry about being auctioned off like some fucking piece of meat.” A smirk formed on his lips. “Although I’m sure you’d love that.”

I rolled my eyes. “As if I could afford those auction prices,” I scoffed. “More like I’d get to watch you get bid on by gorgeous models wondering how much they have to spend to guarantee the night ended in your bed.” As much as I tried to make my words come off as snarky and joking, I knew my jealousy and insecurities seeped through every word.

Roy seemed to notice too. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair, planting kisses there. “If it makes you feel better,” he murmured, squeezing me around my waist, “it was only the models’ old grannies that bid on me. Except last year, when Keeley was mad at Jamie and placed exactly one bid on me to piss him off, but I still ended up being won by a very horny old woman.” He shuddered, probably for my benefit as well as the memory itself. “If you want,” he whispered in that low, gruff voice, “we could have our own private auction after the ball.”

A shiver trailed down my spine, one he could probably feel. Roy Kent was not particularly flirtatious; he was snarky and often clever, he loved to tease and make fun of me, but he very rarely said something so… sexy.

“And during the ball?” I asked, desperate to change the subject and ignore the heat in my cheeks. “Like, do we ignore each other? Do we hang out?”

He sighed and sat back, tracing circles on my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “I mean… it’s free seating, so we could sit together. And I don’t think anyone will notice if we dance together once or twice. Well, maybe Keeley.” He shrugged, gazing down at me. “I think we can manage to spend some time together while not raising anyone’s suspicions. Again, except Keeley. But who fucking cares if she figures it out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, leaning up to peck his cheek. “Alright now shut up, they’re singing again.”

~

“Ah, there you are!” Richard Montlaur stood in the doorway between the coaches’ offices, smiling at me. “Oh, hello Roy.” He nodded to his coach before strolling across the office to my desk. “I have a question for you.”

I blinked at him. “Uh, hi. What’s up?” In my brief time at Richmond, Montlaur had hardly spoken to me. A hello here and there, telling me I looked pretty a few times, but nothing worth noting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy swivel in his chair slightly, clearly listening in.

Richard’s smile grew. “You are going on Friday, no? To Rebecca’s party?”

“Oh, yeah.” My puzzlement grew. “You?”

“Of course!” He leaned against the wall by my desk. “We should go together, yes?”

Roy stiffened. Fuck.

I cleared my throat and shuffled my feet. “Oh. Richard, that’s very sweet of you. But, um, I…”

“You have a date already?” Montlaur tilted his head, confusion covering his pretty face.

“Um…” I stopped myself from looking at Roy. “No, I don’t, I just…” I bit my lip. “I kind of planned on going solo. But it’s very sweet of you to ask.” I prayed the smile on my face didn’t look too forced.

Richard shrugged, unphased. “Ah, well. Just thought I would ask. You are, after all, the prettiest thing on this team. After me of course,” he added with a wink. He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to it. “At least promise you will save me one dance?”

I couldn’t make myself look at Roy; I knew he was fuming at his desk. “Sure, Richard,” I agreed. “One dance.” I took my hand back.

“Wonderful. If you’ll excuse me, I should go get ready for practice.” On his way out the door, he waved to Roy. “See you out there, Coach!”

As soon as Richard was out the door, I spun my chair around, finally facing Roy. He was already turned around, facing me with his arms crossed, his expression hard and stoney like it was the day we met. His mouth was in a perfectly straight line as he stared me down, reminding me of the way I used to see him stare down opponents on television.

“You really going to dance with that prick?”

I shrugged. “I mean, I guess? It’s no big deal, just a dance.”

Roy nodded slowly, his eyebrows knitted together as his face turned red. “Sure. No big deal.” He stood up. “I gotta go to practice.” He made his way out of the office.

“Roy-”

“Whistle!” The chattering in the changing room died instantly. “Oi, all of you, out on the pitch. Twenty laps as your warm up. Whistle!”

Nope. There was nothing I could do at this point; the boys would just all have to suffer. Hopefully seeing Montlaur run until he nearly puked would be enough to calm Roy down before he came back to the office. Trying to put thoughts of Roy and Richard and the gala out of my head, I turned my attention to my computer and opened a file containing personal project of mine: an American-to-British English dictionary just for Ted. The man desperately needed it.

“Hey babes!” Keeley sauntered in a couple hours later, her pink sparkly dress shining in the fluorescent light. “You ready to go?”

I cocked my head at her. “Go…?”

“Dress shopping!” she reminded me, pulling me out of my chair. “I already told Ted that I’m kidnapping you. So, let’s go!”

As we strolled arm in arm to different shops, I felt my mind drift back to Roy, wondering how practice was going. I prayed he wasn’t being too rough on the boys; it wasn’t their fault Montlaur unwittingly asked out Roy’s…. whatever I was.

“Hey, was Roy okay today?” Keeley peered at me over the clothing rack we were searching through, eyebrows raised. “I swear to God, you could hear him screaming whistle across the whole damn building.”

I shrugged. “I mean, he’s Roy,” I muttered, hoping I seemed nonchalant. “The man’s a ball of rage. Wouldn’t it be more surprising if he wasn’t screaming at the guys?” Come on, Keeley. Agree with my logic.

Keeley shifted her gaze to the dress she held out in front of her. “Hmm. I guess.” Her eyes found mine in a flash. “I did hear about Richard asking you to the ball. Guess I was just wondering if Roy got a little…” She popped her lips. “Jealous?”

“Enough,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Just help me find a damn dress.”

“Done.” Keeley held up a red dress that- damn her- I knew would look perfect on me.

I couldn’t help copying her infectious grin. “Fucking hell, Keeley.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

“Oi, d’you need a ride home?”

Roy stood over my desk, clutching his duffel bag, not quite looking me in the eye. A touch of pink colored his cheeks.

I tapped my pencil against my desk. “Well considering you drove me here this morning…” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Right.” He tapped the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “Well, I’ll meet you at the car I guess.”

I sighed as I began packing my things. “You can just wait here for me,” I huffed. “If you want, I mean. I’ll be quick.”

“Right,” he repeated.

I felt his eyes on me as I tucked my laptop and other things into my bag and wrote myself a note reminding myself about the tasks I needed to tackle the next morning, sticking it up next to Roy’s note. Then I shouldered my bag and grabbed the shopping bag that held the dress and heels Keeley had helped me find. When I was ready, I looked over at Roy, who was sitting at his desk, watching me from over the top of his phone that he had been pretending to scroll on.

“You ready?”

Our walk to the car was uncharacteristically quiet, the air around us heavy. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as we crossed the parking lot, wondering if I’d somehow managed to fuck things up already. Great job. You’re gonna lose the guy of your dreams AND make the best job you’ve ever had uncomfortable as hell.

To my surprise, Roy opened the passenger door and helped me into the car, the same way he always did. He squeezed my hand, a reassuring touch after the silence we’d shared in the office once I returned from shopping. With one hand on the steering wheel, Roy put the key in the ignition and started the car- and immediately turned it back off. He turned to face me, his face serious.

“I didn’t fucking like Montlaur asking you out,” he said bluntly. “He’s a prick and was probably thinking he’d get to sleep with you just because he asked you to the gala. But I guess it’s not his fault for not knowing we’re seeing each other. And us keeping things private was my idea, so I probably shouldn’t be so fucking defensive.” His hand tapped on the steering wheel. “So, I’m sorry for being short with you,” he finished. “And sorry if I made you feel guilty when you honestly didn’t do a fucking thing wrong.”

In his eyes I could see that same anxiety that I had seen as he waited for me to tell him what I’d thought of his pub. When he asked me about keeping our situation private. That look that told me that what I felt mattered to him.

“It’s okay, Roy,” I whispered, resting my hand on his leg. “I was honest when I told Richard I didn’t want to go with him, I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Like you said, it’s not his fault.” I smirked. “How many laps did the guys end up doing anyway?”

A sheepish grin appeared on Roy’s face. “Ted talked me down to fifteen laps. But then they did burpees right after. Dani and Sam both threw up.”

I shook my head, holding back laughter. “Those poor boys. None of them better ask me to dance Friday.”

Now Roy shook his head, leaning close, clearly planning to take advantage of the empty parking lot. “You can dance with them,” he whispered. I could feel his stubble brush against my skin before he closed the distance between our lips. “Just promise to save the last dance for me.”

~

“Over here! Ms. Welton over here!”

I stood on the edge of the red carpet, wincing as I watched the scene before me. My friends and colleagues, alone or with stunning dates on their arms, made their way down the carpet, stopping to pose for photos, smiling widely and cracking jokes at the photographers. They all looked so calm, so at ease, while I floated at the periphery, trying to decide if I should brave the red carpet, walk behind the whole mess like the peasant I suddenly felt like, or just go home.

The last one was starting to sound good to me when I heard a familiar growl behind me. When I turned around, there was Roy, his soft brown eyes contrasting with the hard look on his face and providing me with an anchor to cling to. To no one’s surprise, he was wearing all black, a fitted suit that made my heart slam against my chest. He took a step closer to me, his gaze flickering to the photographers who whispered to themselves with excitement as soon as he approached their view.

“Fuck you for wearing that dress,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, clearly trying to look casual. “You look amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the Roy Kent-ness of his compliment. “Keeley’s goal was for me to get your attention. I’m glad it’s working.”

He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets; I could see him trying to suppress a smile. “You’d get my attention even if you were wearing Maria’s curtain dress,” he breathed. “This-” His eyes trailed the red dress that hugged every curve, as if it had been made just for me. “-this is fucking torture.”

Before I could respond, I felt an arm hook through mine, grabbing my attention. I turned around; Keeley.

“Hi guys!” she gushed, looking gorgeous in a rose gold dress and with Jamie right behind her. “Don’t you two look grand together.” She shot me a wink. “Walking the carpet?”

Roy stiffened up, eyeing the papps with unease. “Speed-walking, more like.” He nodded to the three of us, though his eyes were on me. “See you in there.” He turned towards the carpet and bolted across, ignoring the photographers’ pleas for a picture, answering with only his two favorite words: Fuck no.

Keeley nudged me, nodding towards the photographers. “You go ahead,” she urged.

“Um…” I knew she saw the grimace on my face. “Think I could just, I dunno, go around?”

Her face softened as she tightened her arm around mine. “How about we go together? There’s enough photos of me and Jamie floating around online, they don’t need any more.” She glanced at Tartt. “That alright with you babe?”

Jamie nodded. I finally realized the shirt under his suit jacket was black see-through netting. “Go for it.” He shot me a friendly wink, assuring me that yes, I could steal his girlfriend for a strut up the red carpet.

Arms still linked, Keeley and I approached the edge of the carpet, where the photogaphers screamed Keeley’s name, asking who she was wearing and who she was with. She struck poses, an absolute natural, and flashed the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen. I knew Keeley was beautiful- I’d seen her in magazines and ads for years, and of course knew her in person now- but seeing Model Keeley, live and in person, was an experience.

“Come on!” she urged, pulling me close. I mirrored her pose, feeling silly, a bit like a teenage girl taking selfies with her best friend. But having Keeley give me a squeeze suddenly made it… fun. Keeley shouted out my name to the reporters, spelling it with ease, and declaring me the Richmond coaching staff’s “fabulous new administrative assistant”.

I giggled as I pushed her down the red carpet, ready to get to the party. My heart purred with pleasure when I saw that Roy had not gone into the building yet; rather, he was standing by the entrance, watching me with a soft fondness covering his face. For once, he didn’t bother hiding the joy I knew we both felt around each other. I was sure my face matched my dress as Keeley and I approached him, stopping so Keeley could go back and join Jamie back in front of the cameras; so much for there already being enough photos of the two of them.

“You have fun out there?” Roy asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A bit,” I admitted, more to myself than anyone else. “You should try it sometime.”

He bit his lip, looking me up and down, clearly emboldened by the lack of eyes and ears focused on us. “Maybe next year. With the right date on my arm.”

“Oh.” That was all I could manage; was Roy Kent- Roy fucking Kent- implying that we would still be seeing each other a year from now? It sure as hell sounded like it.

And I sure as hell found myself hoping it would happen.

Roy seemed to understand my sudden bashfulness. “Come on. Let’s head inside before the papps actually manage to get a fucking picture of me.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, taking advantage of the formal setting to have some physical contact to guide me into the venue.

As we entered the ballroom, I resisted the urge to gawk at the opulence of the venue; surely my wedding wouldn’t be this nice (unless you marry Roy Kent, the voice in my head teased).

Surely Roy could feel how overwhelmed I was. “Let’s find some seats and go grab drinks,” he suggested. “We’ll need ’em.”

I rose an eyebrow at him as he led me through the party towards the tables taken up by our fellow Richmond staff and players. “You sure you’re not too comfy there, Kent?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Everyone kind of gets extra friendly at this thing, so no one’ll bat an eye if we hang out.” He shrugged. “Especially since we’re officemates. It’ll seem kind of… natural for me to hang out with you, we’re always together at work anyway.” He nodded towards an empty table. “How’s here?”

“Sure.” I placed my clutch on the table, saving mine and Roy’s spots. “D’you mind if Keeley and Jamie join us?”

Roy threw his head back. “Fuuuuuuu-” He glanced at the begging expression on my face. “Fine.” He nodded towards the bar. “I’m gonna need a drink if you’re gonna make me hang out with Jamie fuckin’ Tartt.”

“Deal,” I agreed. “Lead the way.”

~

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want something?” Roy raised an eyebrow at me as the band began to set up onstage.

Dinner had been delicious, with Keeley and Jamie cracking jokes with us and pointing out the most ridiculously rich people in the room for my benefit. The auction had gone off without a hitch; I particularly enjoyed the amusement on Keeley’s face as she successfully bid on Jamie for an outlandish amount of money. Best of all, Roy had been sweet and attentive, much to Keeley’s glee, which helped to calm my nerves.

This might be the best night of my life.

“Sure, want me to come help you?” I offered, starting to stand up.

Roy shook his head, gesturing for me to stay seated. “What kind of gentleman would I bet if I made you get your own drink?” he whispered as he stood. He nodded to Jamie, who he’d actually been really friendly with during dinner. “Be right back.”

The moment Roy was out of earshot, Keeley pounced into his seat. “Holy shit! He’s so into you!” She nudged me happily. “All you have to do to seal the deal is grind on him in that dress, and he’ll be begging to go home with you.”

“Oh stop, Keeley,” I begged, giggling from the drinks I’d had with dinner. “Roy’s just being nice. He’s a good guy.” I turned around to look at Roy, who’d be bringing back my favorite dri-

“Oh shit, look who Roy’s talkin’ to!” Jamie laughed over his drink. “What a fuckin’ reunion.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. Of course I recognized Brittany Brett, lingerie model and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. I’d seen photos of them in magazines for the four months they’d been seen together around Europe, often appearing wherever Roy had a match or she had a shoot. According to the tabloids, she devastatingly dumped him, and within two weeks she was spotted on a double date with some player for Barcelona and Mr. and Mrs. Lionel Messi.

And now there she was, wearing the tiniest dress I had ever seen and showing more cleavage than a renaissance painting. And, worst of all, clinging to Roy Kent. My Roy Kent. My face grew hot with envy as she laid a hand on his arm- the arm that had just been wrapped around my chair- and giggled. With his back to me, I could only imagine the expression on Roy’s face. Was it the scowl he usually wore around the rest of the world? Or was it the gentle smile he shared with me between kisses when we were alone? Or was it the look of adoration and desire he’d had a few hours ago when he complimented my red dress? Maybe it was the number of drinks I had, or the loud music that had started somewhere during my panic attack, or just the sight of this gorgeous woman hanging all over the guy I liked, but my head suddenly started spinning.

Before I could begin to fathom an idea of how to appropriately react, a hand landed on my shoulder. Richard Montlaur smiled down at me, handsome in his suit.

“I believe you owe me a dance,” he greeted in a friendly, teasing voice. He held his hand out to me. “Shall we?”

I shot one more glance at Roy, who still stood with Brittany Brett, no sign of my drink in his hand. “Sure,” I mumbled, taking his hand. “But maybe we could grab a drink first?”

Richard smiled as he helped me up. “Perfect.” He kept my hand in his as he led the way to the bar, settling us exactly where I wanted to be- right behind Roy and Brittany Brett.

I muttered my drink order to Richard and turned my attention to the conversation behind me.

“Roy,” Brittany purred in that syrupy voice I recalled from a couple interviews I’d seen online. “I’m so bummed you weren’t auctioned off tonight. I would have loved to put in a bid on you.”

Roy scoffed. “Come on, you know I hate that shit.”

“Who’s that girl you’re with? Not a date?”

My back stiffened as Richard handed me my drink.

“Er, she’s my assistant,” Roy mumbled. “I mean, she’s the coaching staff’s assistant. We share an office.”

“Aww,” Brittany cooed, as if Roy was talking about some cute thing Phoebe had done at school. “That is so sweet of you to sit with her. I’m sure she feels so out of place at an event like this, poor thing.”

That was all I needed to hear. I felt small, so fucking small, listening to Brittany fucking Brett simper over Roy and the charity case that was his assistant. I downed my drink and held out my hand to Richard.

“Let’s dance.”

I must have had too many drinks, or maybe I was just blinded by petty jealousy and anger, but I didn’t remember Richard leading me to the dance floor. I just knew that one moment, I was on the verge of tears behind Roy, and the next I was pressing my body close to Richard Montlaur as we swayed to a slow song.

As we swayed on the dance floor, I allowed my gaze to return to the bar. There was Roy, still chatting with Brittany Brett, but his eyes were on the table we’d been sitting at, a puzzled frown on his face. He craned his neck, eyes wandering until they landed on me and Richard. His frown deepened and he cocked his head at me. Even from this distance, I could see the hurt in his eyes.

But then I saw Brittany Brett lay her hand on his chest, clearly oblivious to the conversation Roy and I were having through eye contact. Instead, I tightened my grip on Richard’s shoulders as I watched Brittany Brett lean forward and kiss Roy’s lips.

I looked down, blinking away the tears that suddenly formed. “Um, I’m sorry Richard, but I don’t feel well,” I managed, taking a step back. “Thank you so much for the dance, but I-” I shook my head and left the dance floor, heading to the nearest exit, refusing to take another look at Roy Kent.

[atinylittlepain]

Me Too

college!steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ references to smut, idiots in love, emotional constipation, strep throat, lovey doveys in general

...............................................

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?” 

“The colors are nice.”

“Nice.” 

“What? They are. And hey, Robin told me to tell you to stop putting your name down on every silent auction sheet. She said people are noticing that one Andy Broder is trying to sweep the whole show.” 

“Oh please, Steve, I can’t help it. The sad student artists look at me with their sad student artist eyes and I feel bad if I don’t put my name down, sue me for having a heart.”

“Can you afford to have a heart?” She scoffs, a little tug back when he tries to take the wine glass out of her hand, though she relents, her smile simpering while he finishes off the last sip. 

“I’m only getting things started. Ten dollars, tops. I doubt I’ll win any of the pieces.” He’s hoping she’s right, because he’s not sure how they’ll get even one of the pottery sets she bid on back to her place if she does win. Sets of plates and bowls and goblets, because apparently this semester’s pottery class was really, really into making goblets. Robin has a set of two bowls and two goblets up for auction. Steve put down twenty dollars on it, to which Robin scoffed and told him you don’t count, you’re family. 

“I guess we’ll see if your logic works.” Maybe he’s being a little much, his hand curling around the plush of her waist, wrapped up in a dark knit dress that’s scattering his mind just a little, pulling her into his side and soft murmuring want another glass? And her humming no, long walk home and all, her palm smoothing out beneath his sternum, warm brown nail polish that he watched her put on in a curl on her couch. Maybe a little much when he tips his chin to press a kiss just beneath her ear, warm rasp of did I tell you how good you look? She sighs, laughs a little, how very male gaze of you, baby, but thank you, and that thank you is soft, slight, a secret that makes his heart feather and fret against his ribs for a breath. 

He gets to be a little much now, because they’re official now, a thing now. Had the conversation last weekend and he nearly pulled his hair out working up the nerve to tell her yes, old fashioned, yes, he wants that old fashioned thing with her, wants to be hers, and wants her to be his. And her eyes had widened, a slight blanching, before he realized that he was making it sound like the ring and the dress and the suit thing, quick back pedal, not quite that, at least not yet. But he left the not yet part out. And she had smiled, softened, collected his wrists in her hands to stop him from tugging at his hair, her thumbs stroking the quick jump of pulse beneath his skin. Yes, she told him, she had been wanting the same thing too, with him. So yeah, he gets to be a little much, his palm lingering on the hilt of her spine as they walk around the gallery, both of them tucking into the other. And when she ends up winning three of the bowl, plate, goblet sets she bid on for a grand total of thirty dollars, they take turns hauling the recycled moving box full of ceramics, switching off at every block and laughing at themselves, breaths puffing out like curled smoke in the cold night air. 

“Eddie wouldn’t want a goblet, would he?”

“Actually, considering he takes his diet coke in a coffee mug, I think he’d probably be into it.”

“Great, he can have three of them.” They leave the box next to her front door, shrugging out of coats and shoes, intent on sleep after a late night that really shouldn’t have been a late night for either of them. Finals, the end of the semester, and it’s certainly feeling like it. He doesn’t mind though, all but setting up permanent shop with her in her apartment. Has a few hangers in her closet, and a drawer in her dresser, and Sylvia doesn’t even pay him any mind these days, padding right past him up to the box and sniffing a bit disinterestedly at a bowl. 

No classes for the last week, just prep for exams and deadlines. They’ve spent the majority of their time in a quiet comfort on her couch studying and working on their respective coursework, only breaking for light touches and meals and the occasional walk amongst melting and refreezing snow. 

All this time with her is making him a little giddy, a little greedy, already feeling an anticipatory ache for when he leaves on Friday with Eddie and Robin to drive back to Hawkins for the holidays. He had thought about it, he had, but he’d firmly decided it’d be too much to ask. Only just a thing, only just official, and he didn’t want to overstep, come on too strong, too bold. Learned that somewhere along the way, and he can’t remember whose bed he was warming when he did. 

So he’ll go back to Hawkins, and Andy will go back to Boston, but not for another week because the less time I spend there, the better. He can understand that. 

“What do you have tomorrow?” 

“Oral exam for my global inequality class, and a paper to turn in for mental health policy. You?”

“Business policy and strategy paper, and a calc exam.” 

“Hmm, better you than me, babe.” Steam starting to rise and fog in her bathroom and both of them stripped down to threadbare underwear, not trying to impress each other any more. She presses a quick kiss to the round of his shoulder and murmurs something that sounds like almost done into his skin. And he feels pathetic, pitiful over the fact that almost done makes his heart pinch and pull into a sort of nauseous swoop. It’s ridiculous, he knows, only a few weeks, he knows that too. But still, but still, he doesn’t want to be almost done. 

Moving over and around each other in the bathroom, skin still damp from their shower, that oatmeal and chamomile soap she uses flooding his senses, and it feels like the most natural thing, like it has been like this all along. He lets his palm run up and down the track of her spine, feeling the notches through the thin fabric of her t-shirt while she sits up in bed, proofing her paper one final time, printed, with red pen poised. She won’t find anything to fix, he knows, worked hard on it all of yesterday and then they both trudged to the library to type up their respective work and print it out. And when she has decided that she is content with her work, she gets up and tucks it into a folder that she tucks into her bag. He watches the plush shake of her thighs, one-track mind and he’ll admit it, his hands finding bare skin when she comes back to bed, back to him. Curling close under the covers and maybe, maybe, he holds her a little closer, tucks his face into the stitching of her throat and breathes, and breathes to keep himself from saying words that wouldn’t be fair to say right now, not when he’s leaving tomorrow night. 

They both sleep hard and late, and he’s pretty sure she meant to be up earlier, little snit, little snap when he wakes her up, her shoulders hiking up to her ears and she’s already out of bed and out of his hands before he can say anything. And he’s not sure what this is, a cool prickle of worry simmering and slipping up his spine as they both move through getting dressed, distant and silent and her hardly looking at him, and he doesn’t know what happened in the last twelve hours for her to change so much. Stress, he tells himself, she’s stressed, and frankly so is he, and they’re both tired, and they’re both running late, and that must be it. 

“Are you gonna be around this afternoon?” She asks it light as air as she’s wrapping a scarf around her throat, more business associate than anything else and it almost makes him laugh.

“I, well, yeah, unless you don’t want me to be? But I’m leaving tonight, so.” The so feels lame even as he says it, maybe even a bit bitchy, her brows pulling together and then smoothing out all over again, unreadable.

“Okay, I know. So I’ll see you later then?” And there’s little room for an answer, already out the door, and ushering him out too, and he feels like he’s going to throw up even as his body does all the necessary things, down the stairs and out the door and it’s too late to say anything other than mmhmm because she’s already walking in the other direction to her exam that’s on that side of campus, away from his exam on this side of campus. 

No, not how it went yesterday. Yesterday, he had almost been late to his accounting exam because they just couldn’t quite seem to let go of each other, slipping and skidding over icy sidewalks all wrapped up and laughing and whispering little luck to each other between kisses. Not like today, not how it went today. And maybe, he thinks, maybe this is just that thing that seems to happen to him every time. Maybe this is the getting tired of him. Maybe this is the leaving. 

He sits for his exam, turns in his paper, goes back to his apartment to pack a bag for home, and he’s grateful that neither Robin nor Eddie are around so that they can’t clock the strange fugue state he’s sifting through. But he still returns to her apartment, that want to feel whatever this wound is ache a little more. And plainly, he still wants to see her.

There’s no answer when he knocks on her door, calls out her name, her real name, and it feels weird in his mouth because these days she’s honey, sometimes baby, but always honey. And it feels weird too, using the key she gave him for the first time, but there’s an admitted pang of worry flickering in his chest because she should definitely be back by now. 

He’s greeted with the curl of her back, tucked into herself on the couch and perfectly unmoving. She still has her coat on and he’s never seen her like this before. He kneels down next to the couch, rests his palm on her shoulder and runs a soft track down to her elbow and back up again. And this time it is honey, quiet and almost cracking with how he whispers it, though she stirs, makes a noise that he thinks sounds a little like Sylvia, mmm? 

She turns to look at him, eyes held in dark shadows, a little red, a little weepy, and he has to resist the urge to brush the back of his hand over her forehead because he’s pretty sure he knows what this is, pretty sure he’d find a little too much heat beneath her skin. 

“I thought you’d already left.” And yeah, definitely what this is, her voice somehow dissolving and splitting into a gravelly rasp since this morning. She winces a little with the sound. 

“You really think I’d leave without coming to see you first?” 

“I don’t know, I was a dick to you this morning.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” She sits up, and he has to resist the urge to help her, his hands settling instead on her knees, and there’s a guilty tuck to her chin, the fan of her lashes dropped down to her cheeks. His thumbs rub circles into her joints, something soothing, coaxing.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I was being stupid.” Her coat has shrugged down to hook around her elbows, a little pitiful, her palm curling at her throat like she could feel the ache through her skin.

“You’re sick.”

“Well that’s a little uncalled for, I think.”

“No, I mean like, you’re not feeling well, are you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m just tired, need to sleep exams off for a few days.” Her eyes close when he cups her cheek in his palm, little lean into the touch while his fingers creep up to her temple, and his suspicions are confirmed, a thick wash of heat.

“Have you taken anything?” 

“I took some advil when I got home.” 

“Did it help?” She shrugs, a little, while he’s already made a decision. He asks if he can use her phone, really quick, honey, and she shrugs again, already slipping back in between asleep and awake with her head tipped back on the couch cushion. He calls his apartment and Eddie picks up, tells him that he and Robin are going to have to leave without him because he’s needed here. Eddie makes a joke about Lord and Lady Harrington throwing a fit and Steve sighs, not really caring about that. He’ll deal with them when he has to. And then he’s back in front of the couch and coaxing Andy up despite her quiet protests because he’s pretty sure they need to go to Urgent Care. And they go to Urgent Care, and she’s apologizing the whole time and asking doesn’t he need to go? No, he says, not going anywhere. 

Strep throat, and he’s not surprised, and they catch another cab to stop at the pharmacy for her antibiotics. She keeps saying that she doesn’t want him to catch it before he goes home and he has to laugh because honey, if you have it I definitely have it, just a matter of time before I go down. And by the time they get back to her apartment, she seems to have accepted that he’s staying with a sort of sheepish acquiescence, lets him boss her around a little into a shower and then into bed, meds taken with a glass of water and her socked feet slipping against his ankles. She says sorry again into his chest, quiet and small, and he asks her what she’s saying sorry for. 

“You should be with your family.”

“Nah, I like being here better.”

“Even though I sound like I have smoker’s lung?” 

“It’s kinda hot, actually.” 

“Sure, okay.” The slightest laugh that’s more like a caught breath, and then a long enough span of silence for him to think that she’s fallen asleep, but then.

“I really am sorry about this morning.”

“You weren’t feeling well.” 

“I mean, yeah, but, I guess I thought it’d be easier.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna think this sounds dumb.”

“Not with that sexy smoker’s lung rasp I’m not.” Trying to lighten it, lift it, but she scoffs, Steve, serious, not kidding, her eyes unwavering, mouth tucked in the slightest frown, washed thin and pale in the slants of moonlight. 

“You weren’t even gone yet, and I was already missing you, and I felt insane for it.” He’s silent, a thick heat curling in his chest and blooming up and up and up, only feeling a little like an asshole when she says his name like a question, her hand curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. He has to clear his throat before he speaks. 

“It’s the same for me too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, except I wasn’t a dick about it.” Not serious, and she knows it, nose scrunched and a roll of her eyes. 

“You can make it up to me by taking me to Urgent Care in about two days when I start sounding like you.” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

“You should sleep, honey.”

“So should you.” She tucks back into his chest, easy, and he just hopes she can’t hear the catch and jolt of his heartbeat, because it’s the same for her as it is for him.

They don’t leave her apartment for three days, and when they finally do, it is, as he predicted, so that they can take him to the Urgent Care for the exact same thing she had. And by the time he’s halfway finished with his round of antibiotics and she’s done with hers, and they’re both starting to feel like actual real people again, it’s December 24th, and it’s become very clear that neither one of them is going home for the holidays. 

He calls his mom, and his voice is still hoarse enough that she’s only mildly disappointed he won’t be home to make his requisite appearance at the family Christmas party. Meanwhile, Andy can hardly hold in a laugh at oh Steven, it’s not one of those, you know, sexually transmitted things, is it? No, mom, it’s not, yes, mom, merry Christmas. Andy’s conversation with her dad is even shorter, even curter, something about shipping presents, and her sisters asking questions. The youngest of five, she told him, more afterthought than anything else. And when they’ve both hung up there’s a giddy realization of their shared freedom, smiling at each other in her kitchen, crowded around the receiver hooked next to her fridge. 

“Are we bad people for doing that?” Trying to be cute in his lean against the fridge, taking the phone out of her hand and hanging it back up on the wall, but he can’t quite fight off the urge to cough first, tucking his face into his elbow before looking at her again, smiling small.

“We’re sick, honey. Our hands are tied, nothing we can do.” 

“Right, uh-huh. In that case, what do you want to do for dinner, my darling invalid?” 

And so there is no tree, and there are no presents, and there is no family this Christmas. They order takeout from a Chinese place a few blocks away, hot and sour soup and fried rice and crab rangoons that Steve offers one of to Sylvia, curled up on the arm of the couch where they have their holiday meal. She sniffs it, holds it briefly between her teeth, then spits it out on the carpet, though she seems to thank him for his consideration with a slow twine between his legs when he gets up to throw it away.

They don’t get out of bed until the middle of the afternoon on Christmas day, Andy coaxing both of them into a shower, and then into real clothes, and they leave her apartment as the sun is starting to set, catch the train going toward Navy Pier, and brave the cold to walk around beneath the blossoming lights display. Both a good and bad idea, they return with a kicked-up cough shared between them, rattling lungs, rattling ribs, warmed up and smoothed out with tea and buttered toast for dinner. They go back to bed full and content, and sleep off what remains of their sickness. 

The rest of that liminal time before the new year is spent simply, sweetly. They do a deep clean of everything, haul all their laundry down to her complex’s basement, him in a pair of her sweats and his own t-shirt, and her in an old flannel and a pair of his basketball shorts that are only just a little obscene because they’re too tight, you and your slutty waist are trying to kill me, nonsense, no sense. Afterward, when there’s a stack of fresh and folded clothes on her newly made bed, and the apartment smells like lemon and cold air from the window they left cracked, she kisses him again, and again, and again, in the kitchen until they’re both slumping down onto the checkerboard linoleum, sweet want, sweet melt, left panting and giggling in the aftermath. 

And when New Year’s Eve arrives, neither of them make it to midnight, dead to the world in a tangle on her couch, both of them still a little snotty, a little sleep-worn. He wakes up early in the first morning of 1991 with a stiff neck and pins and needles in his foot where he’s pretty sure Sylvia is sleeping. Andy, still asleep, with her leg slung over his and her shoulder tucked in beneath his, and he decides now would be the perfect time to try those words out. So he does, words that have only been offered to Robin, or Eddie when he’s really drunk, for many years. He whispers them like he’s getting away with something, and she doesn’t even stir, and he’s grateful for that as heat blooms and buoys in his chest.

The next time, he’ll say those words a little louder. He’s pretty sure she’ll say them back.

[wreckingtickles]

Todoroki & Mx Glove

In which questions go unanswered.

The Auction Masterlist

Words: 5,162

Todoroki quirked an eyebrow.

Moments ago, he was restrained in some kind of contraption in nothing but his underwear, panting, sweaty, and exhausted; then, he blinked, and now he was clean and well-rested, seated on a cushioned chair in a posh bedroom. A soft pair of dressy black trousers clad his bottom half while the top was sheathed in a white shirt, open to reveal the sharp curves of his toned chest and well-defined abs. His calves rested on the pillow of an identical iron-wrought chair facing his own while his feet protruded through the back, tied together at the ankles by several pairs if smart ties. Each of his toes was individually secured to the convenient vegetal tangle that made up the back of the iron chair, and his big toes were even tied together and to the central stem of the iron decoration, which, together with the ties around his ankles, ensured that his feet wouldn’t be able to so much as twitch, let alone escape or even lessen what was about to befall them.

Though he couldn’t see them, Todoroki guessed that ties were also what bound his wrists together behind his back, through the back of the chair he was sitting on, and around its own central stem. What he couldn’t begin to divine was what that new set-up was for.

Something shifted in the dim light of the room, provided by a single desk lamp, and Todoroki realized that the flowing black fabric he’d initially mistaken for closed curtains were actually the garb of a massive shadow, three meters tall and hunched, impossibly swollen under the vest. A deathly hood obscured the shadow’s features, but Todoroki could feel its gaze on him.

“Aren’t you scared?” growled a beastly low voice.

“What would be the point?” asked Todoroki, his tone flat.

“Good. There is nothing to fear,” growled the colossus, and a hint of delight crept into his voice. “If you give me the combination to that safe.”

“What safe?” enquired Todoroki, his intonation barely more inquisitive than before.

The shadow emitted a rumbling chuckle and turned slightly. The wall opposite Todoroki lit up to reveal a large painting whose frame had swiveled on hidden hinges, baring a large wall safe.

“I don’t know the combination. I don’t know what’s in that safe or where I am,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Another low rumble. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

Todoroki just glowered at the behemoth. “I’m not going to play along with this charade.”

Being tickled senseless was one thing, but he felt offended that that entity, whatever its name was, so much as thought that he would indulge its nonsense. “Just get it over with.”

The rumble stopped. “Then you leave me no choice.”

The figure stooped down at an angle that made it evident it didn’t possess normal human physiology, if its height and bulk hadn’t already made it clear enough. From the vast darkness behind the parting in its garment emerged a beastly hand, brown-furred and large enough to clasp Todoroki’s chest, vicious claws at the end of each finger.

Todoroki had been certain of what was about to happen, but seeing the ponderous claw, he almost flinched. Had he angered the beast, and was he about to be torn apart?

But then he felt one of those stilettos press into the ball of his right foot before beginning its descent towards his heel.

Todoroki had a very fraught history with physical contact, the kind that is born from years of sustained abuse. Despite being one of the most promising and attractive heroes on the market, he’d never been comfortable with the idea of a relationship, much less casual flings, as much as he wished he could be. That state of affairs persisted even after he’d begun to undo the damage his father had caused. But in school, he’d always been wary of physical contact, such that even when he outright asked Kirishima to try to tickle him out of curiosity, which somehow opened the floodgates to the whole class, everyone knew not to sneak up on him or touch him without telegraphing their intentions. And he’d learned two things: one, tickling didn’t generally trigger any of his alarms with regards to unwanted physical contact, precisely because it was so different from anything he’d experienced growing up (save for a couple of occasions with Natsuo, who just loved to tease the golden boy); two, everyone tended to remark that he was very sensitive. And while he didn’t have much of a frame of reference, Todoroki had to agree.

So he didn’t even attempt to disguise how much that single claw affected him, a smile already forming on his lips as he jumped in place.

The claw stopped. “Already? Just from this?”

Todoroki could feel the gloating in its rumbling voice. “You really have no chill.”

The discrepancy between how it sounded and what it said was whiplash-inducing, but Todoroki didn’t have the chance to ruminate on it as the claw began to make scratching motions.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” came out of Todoroki rhythmically, a string of exclamations somewhere on the spectrum between sounding obscene and like he was doing aerobics.

The claw scratched at the ball of his foot, his heel, his arch, the base of the toes – it didn’t matter, Todoroki would react wherever it touched him. But Mx Glove wasn’t satisfied, so began to test the base of and the area between each toe individually.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! N-Ah! Ah! Oh! Noh! Ah!”

The area between his second and third toe, was it a little more sensitive than the rest? The probing claw couldn’t quite tell, so it took its sweet time making sure. Yes, maybe there was a slight extra twitch whenever it touched there… no?

What was certain was that the arch was a bit more responsive than any other part of Todoroki’s right foot, but it was a very small deviation, one that would make returning to that spot extremely gratifying without making Mx Glove feel like it was settling if it targeted other areas.

And that was just the right foot! The right one was supposed to be even more sensitive, and possibly more ticklish in different spots than the left. That asymmetry was part of what had drawn Mx Glove to this victim, though it had actually gotten overwhelmed by the possibilities, so it had decided to stick to the one spot that it preferred, that it knew Todoroki would be able to take the least.

It could see that a flush had already crept across his face. Mx Glove retracted his finger. “Are you sure you don’t want to open the safe?”

Todoroki rearranged his expression into a scowl. “I said I’m not going to plaAHAhahah hahaha hahahaahahaha!!! Hahahaahah ahahahah ahahahahah ahahahhahahahhaha!!!”

He burst into guffaws mid-sentence as the behemoth suddenly added four more claws to the interrogation.

“Staaahahahhahahahahap! Hahahaha ahhaahh ahahahaahah ahahahaahahahahahah!!”

“You have no chill,” quipped Mx Glove as it dragged its claws up and down Todoroki’s right arch. As it expected, that made Todoroki’s laughter just a bit higher-pitched, his shifting in the chair just that little more energetic, so the claws chose to linger on that spot for a while. “Is this supposed to be the less sensitive foot? You are so screwed.”

Just when the focused tickling began to yield diminishing results, the claws ventured upwards, scratching at the base of Todoroki’s toes. There were now enough claws that Mx Glove didn’t have to worry about whether the space between two toes was more sensitive than the others, as the question was made irrelevant by sheer numbers.

Todoroki went on laughing, unashamed of the natural reaction his body was having to the stimulus, though profoundly vexed by it and, most of all, that it was being used to force him to indulge whatever fantasy his captor had cooked up.

Still, he’d never been tickled that long before. It wasn’t as when he was ganged up on by his classmates, or that time Bakugo had tried to make him regret observing out loud that he didn’t expect the blond to be so ticklish (a remark for which Kirishima would also pay), but the fact that it wasn’t stopping had him mildly apprehensive. How much longer could that go on for? Apparently, tickling tired him out very quickly, and he didn’t want to reach that point again, though he suspected he wasn’t going to have a say in the matter.

He could already feel the surface of his skin become damp under the smart clothes when Mx Glove retracted its claws. Todoroki went on giggling as his right foot still suffered under the phantom tingles, the claw trails itching like a zealous ant procession.

“Are you going to keep being stubborn?” questioned Mx Glove.

Todoroki ignored him, choosing to maintain his focus on steadying his breathing. That cost him four claws scratching at his left foot, coaxing a yelp out of him.

“Answer me!” boomed the voice; the claws showed no sign of stopping.

There were actually two more things that Todoroki had learned when tickling was introduced in his life: discovery the third, it was apparently unusual that the left and right side of his body were ticklish in different spots; discovery the fourth, his feet were the least exceptional in that regard, because they were both extremely sensitive… though the left even more than the right. At least, that was what Midoriya had told him – that guy even had notes about that – and Todoroki had indeed noticed that he’d fight harder to keep his hot side away from the tickles; but once the tickling started, he was generally too sensitive to have much of an opinion on anything.

But these weren’t chaotic, friendly tickles: these were sharp claws working precisely to uncover every ticklish nerve under his skin and play it like a string. Todoroki couldn’t tell if it tickled more or less than before, but he most certainly wanted it to stop, and he found himself trying to hold back his laughter… failing miserably.

“HAAAAAA! HAHAHA HAHAHA HAHA HAHAAAAA!! Haha hahaahah HAAHAHAH haahah hahaah HAHAHA ahahah haahahahah hahaahahah!!”

The scratches soon stopped being a warning and morphed into a dedicated process of destruction. They began to look for and focus on the worst areas of his right foot, then proceeded to exploit them to their fullest, moving on to the next just before Todoroki could begin to get used to the sensation.

Tears began to roll down Todoroki’s face when Mx Glove targeted his arch – no doubt as to what spot was the most sensitive now – but wherever the claws decided to give more than a torturous pass, they got him wishing he could crawl out of his skin.

“Still not going to say anything?” growled the behemoth over the hero’s high-pitched laughter. And maybe Todoroki would have said something, if he hadn’t been so focused on surviving the onslaught with his sanity intact. Mx Glove didn’t accept that excuse.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAHA HAHA AHAHA AHAHAHA HAHA!!!!

HAHAHA HAHA HAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHA HA AHAHAH AHAHA!!! HAHA! HAHAHAH!!!”

His left foot still under fire, Mx Glove sent its other set of claws to wail on the right as well, obliterating Todoroki’s capacity for cognizant speech. It tickled so bad. Was it even worse than the hairbrushes? Like he was able to make a comparison as exhilarating lightning traveled up his legs.

Mx Glove truly wasn’t holding back, his claws relentless, precise, excruciating. Like it was really attempting to wring vital information out of Todoroki using whatever means necessary.

Todoroki couldn’t remember so much in all of his life combined. It just kept coming, and he was powerless to stop it, or do anything but laugh and laugh. A flush had crept up his chest and overtaken his tear-stained face, hair flopping about wildly and sticking to his forehead, getting in his eyes, his crisp shirt darkening with perspiration, maddened writhing in the metal chairs without either so much as budging, or his artfully restrained feet escaping a single iota of torment.

Well after Todoroki was thoroughly broken, he noticed the claws – all of them – linger on his right foot, and at some point he became aware that Mx Glove was speaking.

“I seem to recall one of these feet is more ticklish than the other. I find it hard to believe, honestly, but I’m interested in your opinion.”

“HAAAAAAHAH AHAHAHAH AHHAH!! HAHA HAHA HAHAHAHHAHA!!! HAHAH AHAHAHAH HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“No reply, ay?”

The ten claws shifted over to his left foot, and Todoroki let out an addled scream. He bent forward as far as his wrist restraints allowed, farther than was wise, to put something, anything, his head, possible or not, between the torturous points – too many! – and the outrageously sensitive surface of his sole.

Before he’d placidly accepted the notion that his left foot was more ticklish than his right, like a datum that had nothing to do with him. If that was how it was, that was how it was. But now that he was on the other side of empirical experience, he would have given anything to expunge that fact from reality.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!! HAHAAHAHAAHHAH HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHHAHA!!! HAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!! STAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHPPP!!!”

“Oh good, so you can talk! Got an answer for me, gigglebug?”

The claws moved back to his right foot, but even though the sensation decreased somewhat, Todoroki wouldn’t have called it a relief. In that small gap, he only retrieved a shard of his impatience with nonsense.

“HAAA!! HAHAHA HAAA HAHAHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHA YOUHAHAH!! YOU KNOHOHOHHAHAHAAH!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I want to hear it from you, gigglebug,” replied the behemoth, and if Todorok had been able to discern tone, he would have noticed all affectation had been stripped from its words.

But Todoroki just went on laughing and attempting the occasional broken warning or plea, so mx Glove said, “Nope, I can’t tell,” and focused on his left foot again, lavishing his arch and the base of his toes with special attention.

Todoroki’s eyes bulged. “LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHFT!! LEHEHEHEHEFT LEHEHEHEF LEHEHEFTLEFTLEHEHEHEHEEFTLEEEFT!!!” he repeated with every scratch.

A thunderous chuckle, then “Left, you say? I’m not sure, I need to test this further.” And it kept going.

Unable to take it, Todoroki’s efforts latched onto the only thing he thought could put a stop to it, sputtering “LEHEHFT!” like a broken record come alive under ten needles.

This soon earned him a coughing fit, followed by bouts of silent laughter, during which Mx Glove said, “I can’t quite tell. But if you’re right, it sure would suck if I stayed here, right?”

On some level, Todoroki had expected a break after he’d played its game. But no. It kept going. And when his struggling subsided and the only sound he could make was an irregular wheeze, Mx Glove simply moved half of its claws to his right foot, and kept doing exactly what it was doing.

It only stopped when it noticed that Todoroki was struggling to keep his head up. “Oops, I got too carried away, again,” it said to no one, and the claws withdrew into the pools of darkness that were its sleeves. “So, the combination?” it asked, but Todoroki was in no state to so much as decipher its question. It brought out a claw and ran it down the hero’s foot as a warning, but when all it got was a dismayed shake of the head, it resigned itself to wait.

Todoroki didn’t even realize the tickling had stopped at first, since it took him an enormous effort to lift his head. He felt like he just run a marathon – certainly, his soles wouldn’t feel any less raw after one. He just breathed in and out, wishing he could just shed the shirt that was clinging to his shoulders, or use his Quirk to cool himself down.

When he looked up, the behemoth was still there, its hands hidden under the sleeves, and behind it, the safe. What was new was the two upturned bottles tied to the chair, drizzling a weird liquid down on his feet.

“Do you need more persuasion?” asked Mx Glove in a low growl.

“I don’t… know the… combination,” came out of Todoroki, and he couldn’t recognize his own voice, so hoarse it was. But beyond that, was he speaking factually – he did not know because the monster made it all up – or was he playing along with the fiction just to put off the incoming extra serving of torment?

Mx Glove tutted, a sound like the smack of wet clothes on a flat stone. “A pity.”

Todoroki expected to shudder with fear once the behemoth’s hands reemerged, but what he saw was much too weird for that. At the end of each of the behemoth’s sleeves protruded a sock puppet in the shape of a goat’s head. Their square button eyes scanned the room, their moths opened and closed, and they both sniffed the air far too realistically to be simple puppets.

“What are those?” Todoroki couldn’t help asking.

“Hungry little buggers,” replied the behemoth as the goats inched closer. Todoroki could feel the air move as they sniffed his coated soles. Then, one of them took a lick.

“AH?!” exclaimed Todoroki, completely unprepared for what that felt like. That felt way too organic, in a very disturbing way, warm, slimy, fleshy, and worst of all, ticklish.

The goat puppet seemed to like what it tasted, because a second lick followed, and a third, lapping away at the ball of Todoroki’s right foot; and seeing its neighbor go at it, the other goat took an interest in the left arch.

“N-Noho w-whaat ishis thihihIHHHS!! I doho-hoHOHOH! CU-HUT THAHAhahat ouhohoHHAHAHAHAHAAH!!! HAHAHA HAHAHAAHHA HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

That felt weird, so weird! The writhing, knitted muscle sent horrifying shocks through his nervous system, the wet appendages having a rough texture that made each lick all the more torturous.

“These kids always get everyone real talkative,” gloated the behemoth. “Get it? Kids?”

“HAHAHAH HAHAA! HA! HAH AHA STAH! HAHAHA! HA! HAHAHAHIT’S SOHOHO WHEHEHEHEHIRD!! HAHA HAHAH HAHAHA HAHAHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“You get it, you’re laughing!”

Whatever hesitation the goats may have had at first, it was long gone as they lapped enthusiastically at the saltwater-covered soles, driving Todoroki further and further into hysteria.

All Todoroki could do was laugh and watch drops slowly drip out of the bottles, emptying oh-so-slowly, until his eyes filled with tears once again.

The claws had felt worst on his arches, and his mad thrashing and high-pitched guffaws certainly suggested the goat’s tongues were proving effectively as well; but it was when his soles had been lapped clean and he felt the first tentative licks slither between his toes that the true horror of his plight sank in.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HHAHAHANANNANAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! HAHA HAHAHAAH NOHOT THEHEHHEHEEHERE!!!! HAHAH HAHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

The base of his toes, the stems, the pristine skin in-between; what agony the goat’s treat fetched. If Todoroki has a shred of analytical ability left in him, he would have noticed that his right toes now felt as ticklish as the left, if not more so. It was dubitable that he’d have been able to attribute that fact to the warmth the tongues exuded had he been lucid, but feeling the dull teeth nibble at and scrape against his toes and the ball of his foot as the wriggling tongues attempted to reach every last pocket of salt, that shattered his mind. He wasn’t used to those spots being touched, let alone by something like that, and with such torturous intent.

Todoroki would have never thought that he’d manage to last until all the saltwater had been painstakingly licked off every nook and cranny in his toes; but at some point the goat puppets did back off, vanishing back into the behemoth’s robe.

“The combination.”

Todoroki ignored him, any breath he could suck back into his lungs was too precious. And then he heard meowing. He forced himself to open his eyes: the beastly hands were out of the sleeves again, but instead of sharp claws, each finger now ended in… a cat’s head. Probably not that unsettling in a Quirky world, or to Steven Universe viewers, but the 10 sets of feline eyes fixated on him were still mildly unnerving to Todoroki, because the threat was obvious.

“The combination.”

“I don’t… know!” spat Todoroki, a distinct note of irritation creeping into his voice – less so at what he’d already endured, or even the performance that was asked of him, but rather at the fact that he wasn’t allowed to recover. Then he added, “It’s your safe!”

“Too bad,” growled the voice. “Here come the seconds!”

To his horror, Todoroki saw the two upturned bottles still above over his feet spontaneously fill with white liquid, which began to drip down on his toes.

“Wait!” came the panicked request. “I don’t know the combination, and tickling me won’t help you get it. I can’t help you break it open if you won’t. But I can’t take anymore.”

It was a plea, unquestionably, but it was expressed so emotionlessly after the first exclamation that it sounded more like a statement of fact from a neutral party: he could not take any more tickling, and subjecting him to it would be a waste of time within the parameters of the behemoth’s fiction.

For a few moments, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft splashing of the milk droplets on the tops of his feet and the floor, as well as the famished meowing of the finger-kittens.

“Waitwhahit ihit’s poHOHINTLEHEHESSS!!! STAHAHAHAHAP NOHOHOH I CAHAHAHANT HAHA HA AHAHA AHAHA AHAHHAHAH HAHAHAHAHHAHAAH!!!”

The 10 kittens were even more eager than the goats, their raspy tongues smaller than their predecessors’, but sheer numbers allowed Mx Glove to target more spots at the same time, though they never strayed far from his toes and arches.

Todoroki’s handsome laughter was marred by utter rejection of what was happening, the contradiction between even more absurd tickling and his inability to withstand it even a second longer. And yet he did, for many, many, many seconds.

There was nothing he could do to stop this. Nothing.

---

Hero training had been grueling at times, yet Todoroki couldn’t remember being as tired as when, several minutes after the two bottles had been emptied, the kittens finally disappeared into the behemoth’s sleeves again, their meowing ceasing at once.

Something else was dripping on his right foot, a clear liquid of sorts, but Todoroki could not concern himself with it. In fact, when the behemoth shuffled behind him, cut his left arm loose, raised it, and bent it over the back of the chair before tying it down again, he didn’t even put up a fight. He even let Mx Glove rip his drenched shirt open to reveal his chiseled physique upper body with nary a grunt of protest – his mind, reduced to sheer sensation, welcomed the exposure to the colder air.

He didn’t even have a reaction when the behemoth produced a small heat lamp it trained on Todoroki’s right foot, glistening with the dripping oil that the unpleasant – though not painful – warmth ensured would seep deep into his skin, awakening any micron of his nerve endings dulled by his cold Quirk.

Then the monster waited. It waited until Todoroki was able to make sense of sentences again, its impatience having turned into the sweet pre-savoring of what was about to transpire.

When Todoroki looked at it again, he noticed that its right paw had been replaced with a long-fingered, humanoid hand, and the left with a device that looked like a pastry whip that had come undone – a scalp-massager.

“I want you to understand this,” began the behemoth. “I’m now going to try something else, and I won’t stop until you give me the combination. If you lie to me, I promise you, you haven’t felt anything half so horrible as what I will do. Do you get it?”

Todoroki didn’t answer. There was no point. The monster was going to do what it wanted anyway. Why waste energy? Or so he would have normally thought, but he simply lacked the energy to muster any words.

But when he felt fingers wiggling into his exposed left armpit, Todoroki had no choice but to strain his burning diaphragm to expel a new bout of laughter. Not a trace of cognizant speech, though.

The monster watched him try to lean away from its prying fingers, seemingly unable to comprehend that his bonds would not allow it. It was a rather enjoyable sight. But not as enjoyable as the attempt at a choked scream that ripped its way out of Todoroki’s mouth when the scalp massager got to work on his bare right flank.

And as the two most sensitive spots on Todoroki’s upper body were ruthlessly targeted, fragments of his mind made a simple calculation.

He couldn’t take it. Not at all, not anymore. He could make up a combination just to get a short break. But then it would get worse. But he wouldn’t get a break otherwise. What should he do?

The fingertips kept scratching at his damp hollow, occasionally pressing into the skin and skating on it as if dragging coins on a table, having quickly surmised that the very center was the most ticklish part. The scalp massager was far less varied in its tactics, but its dozen tines dragged like feathers along the cold, sensitive skin were incredibly effective at making Todoroki ponder whether the goats’ tongues were less excruciating.

And the calculation went on in the background, and…

“HAHAH HAHAHAAAAAA!!! HAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! TWHAHAHAHAH!!! TWOHOHOHAHAHAHAH!!! TWOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAH!!!”

“Two?” Todoroki heard coming from above. “Giving up already? Good, what’s next?”

 Todoroki had calculated this: he didn’t have to give Mx Glove the full combination yet, he could just start giving him a few digits, so when he really couldn’t take any more, he’d only have to get one number out; but as the first digit tumbled out of his lips, more exploded out of the crack in his will.

“SEHEHHAHAHAH!! SEHEHEHHEHEEVEHEHEHHEHEHNN!! LEHEHHEET ME TAHAHAHHAHAALK!!”

“It’s on you if you can’t speak. Two, seven. Three more to go.”

But Todoroki found it incredibly hard to even remember what digits existed as Mx Glove surreptitiously increased its tickling, which caused the other three digits to take a full minute to be revealed. Perhaps Mx Glove could have made it take even longer, plunge Todoroki into silent laughter to keep the brief respite it had offered out of reach, but the behemoth was overeager; because as fun as these games were, they were nothing like unleashing the single, most effective method to break an auctionee.

Todoroki was suddenly aware that he could breathe again, that the dreaded massagers had left his midsection and that the unsettling fingers were no longer tormenting his underarm. He could even feel the monster’s thunderous steps move away from him, and towards the safe.

Todoroki wasted precious energy trying to whip his damp hair out of his eyes. He wanted to see this. Because even though he’d made the combination up to appease the monster, a part of him hoped against probability that he’d somehow got it right, that he’d be left alone, that the worst would not come to pass.

And Mx Glove was certainly making a show of it. Its long fingers were turning the dial so slowly, the clicking sound drowned out by Todoroki’s labored breaths.

“…One… and six,” announced the glowering behemoth, pausing for a moment after the dial ended its last rotation before clasping the safe’s handle; and though Todoroki’s lungs desperately needed oxygen, his breath hitched for a second.

Mx Glove pushed down on the handle… but it didn’t turn.

“Liar, liar…” lilted the behemoth, sounding the opposite of disappointed, while Todoroki shook his head weakly. “You know what’s coming now…”

It walked back towards Todoroki, who accepted the inevitable. “You… made it all… up…” he stated, a final acknowledgement that he’d humored the behemoth as long as he’d had to, but that now that it wouldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t care to keep pretending in the off chance it would make his situation better.

Mx Glvoe simply chuckled, its hands vanishing into its sleeves for the last time. When it reemerged, the left hand had been replaced by a detailing brush, while the right was furry again, but instead of claws, mounted at the tip of each finger was an opaque, white cube…

The monster stopped in front of Todoroki’s trapped feet, and the hero noticed that moment that the heat lamp cooking his right foot in the lotion was still on only when Mx Glove turned it off and moved it back.

“Did you figure it out? What will break you?”

But Todoroki wasn’t going to humor it any longer.

The behemoth went on, undeterred. “Come on. The tongues were a hint.”

Todoroki just kept focusing on steadying his breath.

A note of impatience crept into Mx Glove’s voice as it said, “It’s temperature. Warm things tickle your right foot more. Cold things tickle your left foot more. So if we were to, say, roast your cold foot, and use ice cubes on the hot one…”

Todoroki’s breath caught in his throat.

“…what do you think will happen?” it asked, and it knew that Todoroki wouldn’t reply, so it didn’t wait before striking.

The lotion made it even easier for the claws to glide along Todoroki’s sole, its nerve endings firing on all cylinders from the heat lamp’s attention. The temperature shock for his left foot was even more severe, jolting the nerves awake, the warmth of the skin rapidly causing the edges of the cubes to melt, allowing them to drag frictionlessly along his arch.

It took all of 5 seconds to break Todoroki for good. That one-two punch was like nothing he had ever experienced, not even at the hands of the behemoth. His cognition shut down. He was no longer Todoroki, just a mass of stimuli and reactions, specifically the intersection of two extremely ticklish appendages being tickled extremely. No hope, despair, anger, or bargaining: just overwhelming sensation, the most exhilarating state f flow.

The behemoth worked both feet over for several minutes, adding to nearly an hour, but Todoroki had lost the ability to measure the passing time. It knew full well that the right foot’s toes were even worse than the arch, while the left arch was more sensitive than any other part of that foot, so it only ever strayed from those areas to keep them from being desensitized.

No, lapsing into silent laughter or wheezing did not afford him any mercy. He was just there to laugh, to pay for not spitting out a non-existent combination, to be the perfect, squirming canvas for Mx Glove to practice its art, to be driven mad by its touches. A mighty hero with ticklish tootsies.

[sunny-mercya]

Intrigued

Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

Law didn't thought you would considered and accepting his offer of going with him to the Auction House.

It was a pure coincidence of luck that Law had saw you walking through Grove 10. Looking semi lost, as you checked the paper in your hands over and over again. Amusing of a sight it was for Law.

Law had read about you; you might didn't count to the Eleven Supernovas—like how your Captain Monkey D. Luffy and Crew member Roronoa Zoro and himself does—but you were known by another group name,

Sea Devils. Is what they call Nico Robin and you (3 others pirates were counted to it, but for Law too unimportant to remember) After all the both of you had demonic auras and Marines—perhaps even the Government—fears you just as they do with the Supernovas.

But in all honestly, Law came to a disappointing conclusion, that you didn't look anything remotely threatening at all.

Marines truly fear everything and anything, such cowards they are for sure.

And neither did you look demonic or devil like at all. Innocently human being you were, but then again it could be just a act, you belonged to the Strawhat—so you were strong.

Still, you had piqued Laws interest. He found you intriguing enough to walk up to you and made some idle small talk chatter.

«Mind joining me to the upcoming Auction today? Your Captain and co will probably be there too.»

«Why not, it would save me some endlessly walking and getting more lost.»

~~~

Sitting next to Law, he had causally slung an arm around your shoulders. You didn't mind it, knowing that Law wouldn't do anything to you and if he does, Luffys gonna cause, which he usually does though, some havoc then.

«Are they auctioned Antiques or weapons here?» you asked Law, tapping your fingers onto your thighs, feeling bored from all the waiting. They surely like to take their time till they start the auction.

«Antiques? In way you could say that.» Law wonders if you were simply that naive or never been at a auctions house at all.

Pulling you more into his side, Law turned his head to look at someone behind. You do too and stared into Eustass Kids scowling face. You assumed it was Kid, only having seeing his wanted poster once or twice in the newspapers.

«Eustass does really reminds me of a angry matchstick tho,» the comment easily left your lips and Law grinned, having to hold back a laugh. There was a certain truth about what you said.

Kids scowl deepens, turning more into a angry mimic, when Law has giving him the middle finger. Turning back to you to whisper something in your ear.

Tsk. Getting all friendly with a Strawhat member and one of the Sea Devils nonetheless, some nerve this Trafalgar Law asshole had—thought Kid, scoffing and turning his attention back to the podium.

~~~

Nami was just a tiny bit shocked to see you already sitting in the auction house, next to one of the 11 Supernovas. So causal and close to one another, someone might think you two were intimate with each other.

Nami waved back at you, when you waved first—smiling happily upon noticing her and the others—managing a smile, besides the imitating aura some of the people give off. As long as you looked reasonably relaxed, it's fine she guess.

«Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome the Sabaody Auction! Today we will start right away with a special and rare goods of rarity! I present you; Number 10, a Mermaid!»

The people applauded and started to bid their prices already, but Law didn't care for that at the moment. His completely attention was on you now.

The moment the auctioneer has said Mermaid, your whole body has tensed, sitting more uptight now. Fist clenched and that angry scowl on your face, almost a twin expression of Kid, tells Law that this Mermaid was a friend of you.

«You didn't told me they're selling Humans.» you snarled in a whisper at Law.

Law was about to answer, but hadn't the chance, since Strawhat Luffy decided to cause a kind of havoc, which probably no one would think to dare to do.

Punching a Celestial Dragon, could be counted as a possible death wish and yet, Law wonders how dumb a person truly could be, Luffy did commit such crime.

Law couldn't care less about those Celestials, but he wasn't in the mood to fight against an Admiral right now.

«Excuse me?! What did you say?!» your voice had brought Law out of his cloud of thoughts. Now you just looked murderous mad.

Law catches your wirst, when you stood abruptly up. Whatever the Marine Commodore had just said, it seemed to trigger you.

«[Name]-ya, don't.» Law shook his head, tighten his grip around your wrist. That scornful glance you were giving him, wasn't making Law to bug off. It would cause far more unnecessary problems, if you were about to punch a Commodore now.

Shaking your hand out of Laws grip, you marched up to the Commodore. Standing in front of Luffy, your captain, like a shield.

Law waved Bepo off, who has gotten anxious, probably sensing your "demonic" aura, the moment he saw the pure raging fury in your eyes.

«Calm down Bepo, lets just see what happen next.» If Law was honest, he does find a certain appealing to your anger. Makes you look hot.

~~~

At first you thought you had misheard what the Commodore just had said, but that couldn't be the case. He said with so much pride, so causally as if it was a normal occurrence to do.

From time to time you would get angry, everyone does. You got angry when two of your Sisters fights against you—back in Alubarna and Enies Lobby—in a way to persuade you to go back home, where Mother was, when the CP9 has taken Robin away from you.

Anger was part of the humans nature, a necessary emotion.

But this? This wasn't anger what you currently feel anymore. It was something else, something bigger and they more you repeat those words, you just heard, the more it bubbles up.

«I dare you to repeat that again!»

«[Name], don't do anyways irrational now—» spoke up Nami, fearing the worst already,

«Stay out of it Nami!» you snapped at her, attention back on the Commodore in front of you. Nami flinched visibly at this, never had you yelled at her like this, shouted out of worry or sometimes because of irritations and sleep depravedness, yes, but never with such anger—no, deadly rage in it.

«HOW DARE YOU TO TELL ME THAT THIS IS LEGALLY AND MORALLY RIGHT? SELLING HUMANS AS A OBJECT?! DON'T YOU HAVE ANY SHAME?!»

They kidnapped Camie because she is a Mermaid, from a different race, but she was still a Human being. Humans are humans, no matter what race.

And that the Marines, who boasting pridefully about justice, are supporting this—was more than just disappointing

«YOU MARINES FUCKING DISGUST ME! DON'T SPEAK OF JUSTICE IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANY AT ALL!»

In a swift motion you stretched your hand out in front of the Commodore and one moment later, with a blast of air, you have send him flying till the far back and beyond that.

«The next one of you marine fuckers, who dares to tell me something about justice, will get bashed into hell.»

Kid nodded his head impressed, whistling even. He was skeptical at first about you and that silly high bounty the Marine has put on you, but it truly was justified—just like the nickname and your place in Sea Devil, honestly, you could be one of the Supernovas too even.

Kid watches with amusement, how you bashed another Marine into the ground, with such a force and accuracy—that only a whole was left.

«Gotta say, that Chibi there is surely a interesting fella.» comment Kid to killer, smirking smugly at Law, when the Surgeon of Death had send him another glare for whistling again.

~~~

It was minutes after the short fight you had with Luffy, Law and Kid against the Marines Soldiers and your Uncle.

«Hey Law! See you in the New World!» you shouted at him, snipping your fingers and running after Luffy and the others.

Law couldn't wait too see you again. It gave him a new sense of rush.

[dearshelby]

In law | T.S

Summary: Tommy Shelby is your brother in law, but also the love of your life.

A/N: 744 words of pure drama to warm up our saturday, everyone sucks here and I guess it fits dark!AU, if not then Tommy is being terribly manipulative 🤭

You knocked on Tommy's office door hesitantly, the only person who knew of your presence in the house was the housekeeper Mary, you'd rather keep it like that.

For months you've been wondering how long it would take until the maids suspect your visits' frequency. Surely no one had so much to talk to their brother-in-law.

Your sister, Tommy's wife, also didn't suspect or so you preferred to believe, a crisis in the family was everything you didn't need. That's why you were determined to end your affair with him.

"Come," his low voice allowed.

His office smelled like cigarettes and old paper, all the windows were closed as he sat on his chair, imposing, his lack of surprise towards your visit annoyed you.

"Are-" he checked the clock on his desk, "fourteen hours too much away from me, love?"

"Stop it, Tommy, not here," you hissed, then sighed, "where's my sister?"

"At a charity auction, she took Charlie with her,"

"Well, I-" you gulped, "just came here to say that what happened yesterday won't ever happen again,"

"What are you talking about?" he frowned.

"Tommy, you cheated on your wife, I betrayed my sister, that's the worst thing I've ever done,"

He walked near, holding your face between his rough hands, a knot tightened up on your throat just to remember this is also how he treats your sister, you felt guilty for betraying her, but also for craving him so badly.

"Do you regret it?" Tommy asked.

"Aren't you listening?" you teared up, "I betrayed my sister, I don't know how to live with it!"

"I need you to be strong for me," he touched your foreheads, "for us, you love me, eh?"

"Doesn't matter what I feel," you tried to remove his hands from you and failed, his grip was much stronger, "you married my sister,"

Tommy took his hands off you to run a hand through his face, he negatively nodded revealing his frustration, "That doesn't change the facts,"

"What facts?" you scoffed.

"You love me," he harshly stated, "and I love you,"

"Stop it, Tom,"

"I do, it's the bitter truth,"

"Then why didn't you marry me when we had the chance?!" you cried out.

"I should have!" he shouted back, "I would have if I knew you'd always try to fucking run away from me!"

"It wasn't me who ran away first," you gave up fighting, quietly stating.

"No," he admitted, "but we have a chance now,"

"No, we don't,"

"Stop, stop fucking running away from me," he pleaded, cupping your face again, "you're running away from me to run away from yourself, from what you really want and what for? You have someone who loves you right here,"

"And what about-" you tried to ask about his marriage, well aware that even if Tommy got a divorce to marry you, you couldn't stand the guilt of ruining your sister's life. You were doomed, but you'd hate to drag your sister with you.

"No," he traced your lips, "do you love me?"

"...yeah," you whispered.

"Then I'll take care of it, I'll take care of everything, alright?"

"How?"

"Just trust me,"

Tommy locked your lips together, he tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, it wasn't exactly a nice combination, but it was him, the forbidden fruit you were dying to have.

However, it didn't last long, your sister's voice echoed in the hallway and you quickly pushed him away.

"Tommy," she melodically called, entering his office, "oh, Y/N, what are you doing in here?"

"I'm-" you stuttered, "I'm being nosy towards your husband's business,"

"Oh, good luck on trying to get something out of this one," she giggled, "can you believe he spent yesterday's night out and didn't tell me what he was up to?"

"...yeah," you uncomfortably moved, "I just came to make sure you were fine, I should go now,"

"Don't you want to stay for afternoon tea?" she asked.

"No, you must be tired, Tommy was working, I interrupted him, I should go,"

"Okay," she muttered.

As you said your goodbyes, another knot formed on your throat, the love you felt for Tommy wasn't strong enough to extinguish the guilt of fooling your sister. Fighting the urge to cry, you left the house, unaware Tommy's solution to your problem wouldn't allow her to live past tonight.

MASTERLIST

[runnning-outof-time]

The Boiling Point | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) has denied her feelings for Tommy to the point where she can't anymore. Will admitting them lead to good? Or will it blow up in her face? Does she know that Tommy feels the same about her?

Warnings: drinking, smoking, language

Word Count: 3893

A/N: this was a fun one to write…I’ve not decided on whether the events of Tommy and May’s night spent together went exactly as they did in the show, so I’ll leave that up to you. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

(Y/N) entered the Garrison after finishing her shift at the hospital. She most certainly needed a drink after what she'd dealt with over the course of her day. From pushy parents demanding that their child be able to jump ahead in line because of their slight bump on the head, to a gruesome workplace accident, she most certainly saw both ends of the medical spectrum today. She entered the bar, only to stop in her tracks as she saw Tommy talking to a rather elegant looking woman.

She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight but still walked forward, not saying anything until she was also standing at the counter. "'S been a while since I've seen a fresh face in here," she commented as she leaned up against the counter, "especially one of such sustenance and class...choosing gold was the right thing to do, Tommy," she couldn't help but add on as she cracked a grin. Her gusto cracked when Tommy didn't have a similar reaction to her statement.

Instead of jumping in on her joking, Tommy formally introduced the mystery woman. "This is May Carleton, (Y/N)," he said in a serious tone, nodding towards the newly named stranger after he spoke.

"Oh so it was true," (Y/N) just about gasped, astonishment in her voice. Both May and Tommy sent her a confused look, so she elaborated on her previous statement, "the boys were going on about how you managed to meet a big shot horse trainer at the auction you went to," she started off, nodding at Tommy so they knew who she was talking about, "I told them that there was no fucking way that anyone of any decent standing would have taken interest in a dirty, Brummie bookmaker...but I guess I stand incorrected."

"Goodness, you all talk like that here," May cut in before Tommy, who looked like he was about to give (Y/N) a piece of his mind, could say anything.

"Talk like what?" (Y/N) asked, her eyebrows raised as she thought that there was nothing out of the ordinary about how she talked.

"Never mind," May dismissed the topic with a slight shake of her head. "This drink was lovely, Tommy, but I'd better be getting back to the truck now. They should have everything ready to go," she said then as she stood from the stool she was sitting on.

"Want me to walk you back?" Tommy offered. (Y/N) was shocked at how formal he was acting. This woman must have been of great importance to invoke chivalry so quickly out of Tommy Shelby.

"I'll be fine," she brushed his offer off, "stay back here with...(Y/N), was it?"

"(Y/N), yes," the other woman nodded.

"Yes, (Y/N)..." May repeated the name, "it was nice meeting you. I'll be going now," she said, bidding the two one last goodbye before she walked to the doors of the Garrison.

(Y/N) watched her leave before shrugging and sitting on the stool that the other woman had been occupying. "She barely touched her drink," she commented on the nearly full glass. She lifted it up and swirled it around, squinting slightly as she looked intently at the clear liquid. She then took a swig of it and her face quickly scrunched up into disgust. "Tastes like shit," she commented as she set it back down on the table.

"Do you need something, (Y/N)?" Tommy asked, a hint of an unknown tone laced into his voice.

"Me? No," she shook her head, "I was just wantin' to stop by after a long shift...figured I'd get me something strong to drink," she added before nodding to the space behind the bar where the whiskey was kept. Tommy immediately picked up on what she was wanting and fetched the bottle so that he could pour out two glasses. "Did you think I needed something?" she asked as she watched him set the glasses between them on the counter. Tommy said nothing, but instead pursed his lips together as he went about pouring out the whiskey. That was all (Y/N) needed to jump to conclusions though. "You were trying to get it on with May Carleton?!" she asked in a baffled manner, trying so very hard to stifle her giggles.

"What? No, (Y/N)," he denied her statement quickly, clearing his throat afterwards in an attempt to regain his composure, "she was only here for the horse."

(Y/N) couldn't help but snicker at her own thought before she shared it, "it wouldn't be the first time I've heard you refer to yourself as such." She looked over at him then, trying to hold in her laughter. She lost it the second he glared at her though.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy groaned, knocking back his glass of whiskey as he waited for her to compose herself. "Would you stop fucking laughing already?" he was starting to get aggravated with her behavior now.

If she only knew how much this irked him on so many levels. First, she was making something that was solely motivated by business into something that wasn't. Sure, he expected the guys to give him some flack for enlisting the help of May Carleton, but he didn't think it'd be coming from (Y/N) too. Second, and more important in Tommy's eyes, it was bothering him that the person making these comments about him having eyes for another woman was the same person that he had eyes for. That's right...Tommy Shelby had feelings for (Y/N) (Y/L/N). But he could never move on them because he couldn't go ahead and ruin the one good, constant thing that he had in his life: her friendship. So instead, he just stomached her teasing and acted like nothing was the matter.

"Awh, I'm sorry, Tommy..." (Y/N)'s grin turned into an exaggerated pout, "did I hurt your feelings? Have you fallen head over heels for this woman?"

"Are you going to drink your whiskey?" he deflected once again, his eyebrows raised in hopes she'd drop the topic altogether.

"I am, thank you very much," (Y/N) answered him, taking hold of the glass and bringing it up to her lips. "So..." she trailed off after swallowing the amber liquid, "the horse, eh?"

"Yes, the horse," Tommy nodded, wanting to breathe a sigh of relief because she'd finally moved on, "she was here for the horse."

"And not for you?" she brought it back around again, her persistence making Tommy groan. His reaction made her laugh again. "Ok, ok...I'm finished ragging on you," she told him, playfully pushing his forearm to get him to look at her again. Tommy looked up then, his facial expression telling her that he hoped she was being serious this time. "Wanna hear about my day?"

"Please," he responded almost immediately, relieved that she was now moving away from his endeavors.

So (Y/N) got into talking about her day, telling Tommy all of the details of the different cases that she worked and the scenarios she was put through. He listened intently to what she was saying, seemingly hanging on every word as he enjoyed having a break away from the plentiful thoughts and strategies that plagued his head.

She finished the rest of her glass after recounting a story about another pushy parent and set it down on the counter with a sigh. "I bet I've talked your ear off," she started, leaning back on the stool again.

"You've not," Tommy shook his head.

"I should go anyway," (Y/N) persisted, standing from the stool after she was finished speaking, "leave you here to worry about May Carleton and your horse," she added with a grin, unable to resist herself.

"(Y/N)," Tommy groaned before sending her a warning glance, one that she only giggled at.

"Goodnight, Tommy," she bid her goodbye, not commenting further on her previous statement.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he repeated the farewell, watching as she walked to the doors of the Garrison.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" (Y/N) questioned herself out loud as soon as she exited the tavern.

She felt like she wanted to pull her hair out. How could she go about teasing the man she was madly in love with so effortlessly? And better yet, how could she tease him about another woman? No, this wasn't just another woman...this was a woman who was prettier, wealthier, and more dignified than she'd ever be. She'd be crazy to think that Tommy'd ever pick her over the May Carleton if it ever came to that.

But would it ever come to that? She wasn't so sure. On one hand, she wanted to scream about her feelings towards him from the rooftops. On the other hand, she wanted to keep them inside for as long as she lived. They had a good, solid friendship between the two of them, and she didn't want to be the one who ruined it.

So she took a deep breath and composed herself before walking away from the Garrison. Tonight wouldn't be the night that she told him how she felt.

(Y/N) was sitting at Polly's dining table, talking about the day she'd had, when the phone began ringing.

"It's for you, Ms. Gray," one of the maid's announced as she entered the room the two other women were in.

"I'll be back in a minute," Polly said to (Y/N), who nodded her head and watched as the older woman exited the room.

True to her word, Polly returned after only a short time. "Who was that?" (Y/N) asked, her curiosity immediately getting the best of her.

"Tommy," Polly answered as she sat back down.

"Yeah?" (Y/N) phrased the single word as a question, hoping the other woman would share more about the phone call.

"Yeah," Polly nodded before continuing, "he's called to say that he's staying the night at May Carleton's...something about not having enough petrol."

"Oh," (Y/N) responded in a passive tone, trying not to sound too interested in the whole ordeal. Inside, she was screaming. She hated the fact that her mind was telling her that nothing good could come from Tommy spending the night at that woman's home.

"Maybe it's more than the horse that's got him there," Polly commented as a grin crept onto her features. (Y/N) didn't know if the older woman sensed her internal ordeal or not, but either way, she wasn't helping it.

"Maybe," she shrugged, wanting to continue playing along with the act without showing her true feelings.

"I think he's above his weight with her," Polly added after a few moments of silence had passed.

"You do?" (Y/N) hated the fact that her ears had quickly perked up at Polly's statement.

Polly only nodded her head before she grabbed her glass and brought it to her lips, "he knows nothing of the world she lives in, and vice versa," she explained her statement then, "she probably sees some novelty in him, and you know how men are..." she paused, sending (Y/N) a knowing glance, "it won't ever work beyond that," she then ended her statement by taking a drink from her glass.

"Well if you think that to be the case..." (Y/N) trailed off as she took a drink from her glass.

"You want me to be wrong?" Polly looked surprised by the younger woman's statement.

"Well, I mean..." (Y/N) trailed off, in a bit of a bind now. No, I want you to be absolutely, positively correct about this!, is what she wanted to say, but she couldn't spill her guts like that. Polly looked at (Y/N) expectantly, which made the younger woman realize that she was taking too long to respond. "Wouldn't you want what's best for him...for him to succeed in life?" she concocted a last-minute, sheepish sounding response, topping it off with the smile to match.

"May Carleton may help him succeed in his ventures, but she is certainly not what's best for him," Polly remarked, a bit of a preposterous tone laced into her words.

"If you say so, Pol..." (Y/N) trailed off, her eyes focused on her glass. Why was she, again, trying to will off Tommy to another woman? Were these feelings that she had for him even real? "You were the one who brought up about him not just going for the horse," she pointed out; her lame attempt to help save face because why were they still even having this conversation?

"I was," Polly responded, pursing her lips and ending her statement, and the conversation, there. (Y/N) swore that the other woman could see how much all of this was irking her at the moment. But now it was finished...not with the proper closure that she wanted, but finished, nonetheless.

As hard as she tried, (Y/N) couldn't quite get that conversation off of her mind for the rest of the night. Just the idea of Tommy staying at May's made her stomach flip...she didn't want to think about what they could possibly be doing together. But she kept her act up. She kept it up until she was finally home for the evening. There, she allowed her fake smile to break down into a frown, one that stayed creased into her features for the rest of the night.

(Y/N) made her way into the Garrison the next afternoon, hoping to find some familiar faces that would help her unwind after another stressful day.

"(Y/N)!" one of the people she was hoping to see called from the bar, making her walk promptly in his direction.

"I was hoping to find you," she stated as she stopped at Arthur's side.

"Oh yeah?" Arthur asked her, his eyebrows raised as he slid a drink her way.

"Yeah," she nodded, accepting the glass, "need to forget about today."

"Look no further then...come with me," he said with a grin, waving her to follow him over to where the door to the snug was. He opened it before walking inside, holding it open for her to walk in behind him. "Look who I found!" he announced before moving over to show (Y/N) to the others in the room. Cheers and greetings followed his statement, and (Y/N) tried her best to wave and smile at everyone before sitting down in the booth next to John. "What'd I miss?" Arthur asked as he settled back down in his seat.

"We finally got Tommy to crack," John answered, a half-smirk on his face.

"Did ya?" Arthur leaned forward, "go on then...where were ya last night, Tom?" he asked with intrigued eyes.

Tommy stayed mum, his lips firmly wrapped around a cigarette. (Y/N) felt her heartbeat increasing at the mounting tension. Get on with it already! she was screaming in her mind, the suspense nearly killing her. Thankfully, John stepped in and came right out with what he learned. "He was at that swank horse trainer's; May Carleton...said she's got a fuckin' mansion," he said what (Y/N) already knew. Still it felt like a shot to the heart when he said it.

"I didn't have enough petrol to make the drive home. She didn't have any either," Tommy mumbled, wanting nothing to do with the conversation he was about to be thrust into.

"No petrol, eh? None at all in any of those garages she's got?" Arthur asked with raised eyebrows, "probably has her own service crew to deal with that shit."

"It's the honest truth," Tommy was still dismissive, tapping his cigarette over the ashtray. He couldn't help but look over at (Y/N), who seemed to be waiting on the edge of her seat for more of the details from his previous night to drop. What he noticed right away was that she wasn't grinning like his brothers were. In fact, she seemed pretty troubled by the conversation.

"And when was the last time you've been honest?" John kept the ribbing up, the smug smirk now full on his face. "Tell me, what does Ms. Carleton's bedroom look like...it as lavish as the rest of her place?"

(Y/N) held her breath for five seconds, and when Tommy didn't give any sort of response, she stood with a huff and walked to the door. She paused as she grabbed the handle, taking a moment before she shook her head and opened the door with enough force that it just about smacked the wall it opened towards.

The room fell silent then as the three men looked out into the bar area. "Fuck was that about?" Arthur muttered under his breath, raising his eyebrows to himself before he grabbed his glass and took a drink.

Tommy snuffed out his cigarette before he stood from his chair. "I'll be right back," he announced as he grabbed hold of the door handle and brought the door to close behind him. He seemed to know exactly what this was about, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

After exiting the snug, he took a hard right, walking through the few groups of patrons until he got to the hallway that connected the offices to the main space. Having an inkling of where she might have gone, Tommy trusted his instincts and walked down the hallway. He found (Y/N) in one of the empty offices, trying to light a cigarette with her shaking hands.

"(Y/N)," he called her name softly, making her jump in her place before her eyes fell on him.

"Jesus, Tommy," she breathed, her one hand on her chest as she abandoned her cigarette completely, "don't scare me like that."

Normally he would have chuckled at her jumpy reaction, but he knew what type of conversation laid ahead of him. So instead of beating around the bush, he jumped right to the point. "Why'd you leave the snug back there?" he asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bar for extra emphasis.

"It's nothing," (Y/N) tried to deflect.

"It's obviously not nothing," Tommy didn't go for her pathetic excuse.

"I don't want to talk about it," she tried another method of aversion, hoping to shake him off of her tail.

"Something's bothering you, (Y/N), and I'd like to know what it is," he just about demanded her.

"I didn't like the conversation you were having back there, ok?" she quickly said, looking at him with wide eyes as she finished her rushed sentence. "Happy?" she added for extra emphasis.

Tommy blinked a few times, trying to connect her statement to what was being talked about in the snug. He was only half-invested in the conversation that was being had. The other half of him had been trying to figure out what was bothering (Y/N) so much. He guessed that her coming into this room had something to do with it as well.

"About May?" he finally asked her, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to narrow his options down.

"What else was being talked about while I was in there?" (Y/N) decided to play against him, not conceding to his questions right off the bat.

"It wasn't exactly a conversation I was wanting to have either," he pointed out then, still wondering why she was making a big deal over this.

"Well you weren't exactly pushing for the conversation to be finished," she shot right back at him, still unhappy that he wasn't coming forward with the direct answers that she wanted.

"What was I supposed to do, (Y/N)?" he raised his eyebrows as he waited for an answer.

"Tell them what happened!" she raised her voice, becoming more frustrated by the second.

"What happened?"

"You stayed the night with her, Tommy! I'm not an idiot, I know what happened!" she was practically screaming now. Tears were on the verge of spilling from her eyes and she hated it.

"I...I don't know what you want me to say," he was hesitant in choosing his words now, not liking how she was starting to break down. He hated to see her like this; to see her so vulnerable, but at the same time, he didn't know what to do to change it...he didn't have the words.

"I want you to say that it's not true," (Y/N) responded, feeling like an idiot the second the words left her mouth. What exactly was she asking him to do? Did she want him to lie for her own sanity?

Tommy paused for a moment, thinking over what she'd just said. He furrowed his brows then as confusion washed over him. Was she asking him what he thought she was asking him? "Where is this all coming from?" he decided to switch the topic slightly and, hopefully, get to the bottom of it all.

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, hating that she'd brought the conversation to this point. Then she took a deep breath and looked at him again. She wanted to lead this with her mind, not her emotions. "I've reached the boiling point, Tommy. I can't dance around you like this anymore...I can't dance around my feelings towards you. But yet it seems like you've got other plans, and I know that this," she motioned between the two of them, "would be too good to be true if it were to ever happen, so just go ahead tell me what happened…go and break my heart. Break it a thousand times, if you like. It's always been yours to break anyway," she took a deep breath to steady herself after her admission, almost not wanting to look at him and see his reaction. But she did, and the expression he was wearing was one that she'd never seen before.

"I don't know what you're getting at, (Y/N). I haven't..."

"No, stop," she waved her hand in front of him, signaling him to stop talking, "I don't want to hear it...I don't want it to become true," she told him, lowering her gaze to the ground before she managed to get past him and exit the office.

Tommy stood in his spot, baffled by what had just happened. He didn't expect for their conversation to end the way it did. He didn't know what to make of her statement and the fact that she'd just walked out on him. Did she truly have feelings for him? Was she about to admit them to him? But yet he didn't run after her. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out his packet of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips before switching the pack for a box of matches. He lit the cigarette and took a drag before exiting the office and returning to the snug.

There, he sat back down in his chair and tried his best to ignore the incessant pestering from his brothers as his mind got bombarded with different questions and scenarios. With a sigh, he pushed them away as best as he could. He’d get to the bottom of this another day.

Tagged: @mgcllovdrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby

MASTERLIST

[cat3ch1sm]

🎻~ kurapika kurta losing his temper and pinning u against a wall⁉️⁉️⁉️ absolutely

this is set during the yorknew city arc at the auction at which chrollo and the zoldyck heads fight! i guess this is sort of kinda an au? the events aren’t by the book, that’s for sure, so idk😅 reader and kurapika are “just friends” here

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ fem!reader, implied nsfw, language

The two of you were both badly beaten, black suits ripped in several places and blood dripping from a number of exposed gashes. There was a dark red streak in Kurapika’s rumpled blonde hair and your nose was gushing blood, which you kept wiping away over and over again to no avail. The auction hall had been blown to smithereens behind you with terrified attendees and mafia members alike scattering all over the city. Your coworkers were nowhere to be found, nor were the perpetrators of the massive explosion that had occurred just seconds before. Meanwhile, you and Kurapika were both left wandering through the remains of the building. The mood was so tense you could practically hear the crackling electricity in the air.

Kurapika was seething beside you, his eyes glowing a brilliantly furious scarlet and his glare burning into your own. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why would you run back into the damn auction hall when you knew it was about to be destroyed? You know the Spiders are here, right? Are you insane?”

Your fists clenched, and something in your chest tightened; Kurapika’s incensed gaze was met with an equally inflamed one. “I was trying to help you, you asshole! I went back in there to get the goddamn Scarlet Eyes because I knew how much they meant to you. And now you’re calling me insane? Did you tell me about the Scarlet Eyes being here and expect me to not do anything about it?!”

“No, because that was my job,” Kurapika snapped. Now he stopped in his tracks; you’d never seen him so angry. ”Retrieving the Eyes is my mission and mine alone.” He threw up his arms, slightly wincing as he did so, and gestured heatedly to your crumbling surroundings. “And now look where we are- we are stranded in the ruins of this hellhole with no damn communication with God knows how many injuries and no Scarlet Eyes! Your efforts have only made things worse. Are you happy?”

“You say that like doing nothing would have made things any better!” you countered sharply. Blood was running down your lips and slipping into your mouth as you spoke, but you were too occupied to care. “I didn’t cause the explosion! And I certainly didn’t ask for you to run in after me!”

Kurapika took a few steps towards you, making you back up instinctively. “How could I not have gone after you, Y/N?! If I see any one of my friends running into a disaster waiting to happen, I’m going to go after them!”

Both of you were screaming at this point, the stress of the night finally bubbling over. You let out a long sigh, burying your red/stained face in your hands. “God, I don’t even understand why you’re so upset?! I didn’t know the whole damn building was going to explode when I ran back in there! And I definitely wasn’t trying to get either of us hurt.”

Now Kurapika advanced on you a little too quickly, barely giving you any time to react before you were completely backed up against a cracking wall. His shadow obscured your vision almost totally, and the only thing you could see was his blazing red eyes. You felt your heartbeat speed up to twice as fast and your stomach twist, your eyes wide as you glared up at Kurapika. Had you crossed a line?

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know why I’m so upset?” He said this with such ferocity that you couldn’t help but sidle up even further against the wall, your nose inches away from his collarbone and the metallic scent of his blood filling your aching nose. The chains on his hand just above your head dangled down beside your face, brushing your cheek and the cold silver making you flinch. “You could have died, Y/N! What the hell gives you the right to scare me that badly?!”

Your jaw almost dropped, and you were quick to counter Kurapika’s statement. “Me?!” You let a bitter laugh escape your lips, red staining your chin and your voice shaky. “How the fuck do you think I felt when you went to kill the Troupe’s strongest member by yourself with a handful of chains? That’s the whole reason the Spiders are even here, isn’t it? Because you were an idiot and killed their best member? You can barely control your rage for even two seconds! You scare me every goddamn day!”

Kurapika slammed his other hand on the wall as well, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “No! I’m supposed to do things like that- it’s all I know how to do! There isn’t one fucking second where I’m not angry-“

“I don’t care! You aren’t being-“

“Jesus Christ.” And then he leaned down and kissed you.

It was so unexpected that you just totally froze. Your entire body stiffened and your eyes remained wide open. Kurapika’s lips tasted like blood and salt and you didn’t know whose was whose. But eventually, you started to kiss him back- and he kissed you harder; you felt him groan into your mouth. He took one of his hands off the wall to wrap around your waist and pull you in closer with his brow furrowed. Your entire body began to heat up and you brought a hand to the back of his head, which was sticky with half-dried blood, but you barely noticed as his body engulfed your own. With your eyes shut, all you could perceive was him.

After a full minute, you broke apart, breathless and even more disheveled if that was possible. Kurapika’s eyes lingered on your red lips as he stepped back, releasing you from his grip. Flustered, you averted your eyes to your hands, ignoring the blood from your nose that was still rushing down your face. You both were silent; even Kurapika seemed stunned.

“Kurapika-“

“Y/N-“

“Oh, there you both are.”

Surprised, you and Kurapika both turned around to see an only slightly battered Melody, standing with her hands folded in front of her stomach. She tilted her head at the two of you, and you silently prayed that she hadn’t seen anything. But your fears were extinguished when she said nothing about it.

“Yes… hey, Melody,” Kurapika greeted her a little sheepishly, trying not to glance in your direction. “We were looking for you- where are the others?”

“Oh, they’re all back at the boss’s hotel. The auction is in shambles, so many people are either dead or have cleared out. We will want to leave before the authorities get here,” Melody added pointedly, to which you nodded.

“Of course, let’s- let’s get going.” You sniffed back more blood and began walking towards Melody, face burning as you avoided Kurapika’s eyes. You could still feel the sensation of his kiss on your lips. You wondered if he could too. Anyway- it was probably safe to say your argument was mostly resolved.

Kurapika eventually took the lead, walking in his usual respectable manner in front of both you and Melody. The only sounds for a while were those of the crumbling building and debris falling, and you’d begun to zone out. However, Melody abruptly brought you back to earth when she stated aloud:

“By the way, I did notice both of your heartbeats were unusually rapid. There is a certain rhythm that heartbeats take on when the host is experiencing attraction, whether it be sexual or emotional, to another person- and your own rhythms matched that specific rhythm.” She smiled a little bit. “I’m sure the two of you will make a wonderful couple.”

[haru-chi]

Okay, let's talk about the recent Natuyuu chapter for a little bit ... and something that just moved me to tears ><

let's ignore that the appearance they teased was for the cats and not what I wanted and wished for which's fine I'm fine I knew it was impossible .. yet hoped nonetheless

the chapter was really cute indeed, but I was shocked that the Reiko's pic was gonna be addressed right after the reveal !!! that took me by surprise yet a very happy one to confirm what I was saying back then ...

but before that, the way Natsume started to realize and know for sure that that might've been Reiko by remembering his father was too much for me ...

this chapter was such a good demonstration of how much our little sunshine has grown so much emotionally ... I was tearing up seeing him trying very hard to remember that blurry memory of his father taking him to an amusement park T^T

the boy who forced the memories out of his system so as not be broken down by it .. the same boy who refused to see the only parents' picture he had so that he won't be hurt or cry when he sees them ... who always pretending to be fine talking about his real family .. who ran away from any mention of them that he just purged any faint memory he once had till the point he really forgot everything related to them despite how this act of itself was hurting him deeply ...

this same boy right now is doing his best to remember his own father .. to remember a said precious memory .. he was trying really hard something the past Natsume would never do .. but sadly, all he managed was those blurry images .. he no longer remembers his father's face .. yet he wasn't broken down or sad .. he was actually happy as if he holds something dear to him .. that even if it's blurry, even if he no longer remembers it much ... the fact that it exists no matter how faint it was was enough for him .. he does have such a happy memory inside of him afterall .. he was content by this alone .. not pain or sadness but happy to know it was there ..

I can't say it well enough how much he has grown up now ...

and when by the end he did remember this faint memory very clearly .. he didn't cry or was sad (I sure was tho) No, he was very happy as if he was above the clouds dreaming something nice ... even Madara comment that he was weirdly happy and daydreaming ...

this was just ... how to say it ... it just moved me to tears with happiness ..

and his father ... his father was such a kind loving father which just break my heart even further .... Natsume didn't cry but I cried in his place ... even tho I was also happy and proud of him so much ..

Now to Reiko ...

I really was happy how Midorikawa-sensei proved my point when I said that Natsume lacks the ability to recognize a happy Reiko because he just never seen her like that, so even when that picture was indeed Reiko Natsume's mind was like "a girl that looked like Reiko" ... I won't dig deeper for this since I already did for a bit in a different post.

"if that picture was indeed Reiko, is the reason I didn't recognize her because that was an expression I have never seen before ?? I think that smile perhaps was ...."

the way Midorikawa-sensei let Natsume realize that through his father's memory was clever yet cruel to me .. while also proving that that smile was indeed toward someone she loved (her husband) .. a kind of smile that you show to someone dear to you like the loving smile Natsume's father showed to him in that memory ...

now was the artist her husband ?? or was it a 3rd party who knows both of them, so they only captured the moment ?? in the first place why was her picture in an exorcist auction ?? I guess that the next question that Natsume needs to address now that he confirmed she was indeed Reiko :)

slowly but surely, the grandfather reveal is upon us and I'm here for it and all the pain he will bring with Reiko's full story :)

PS : a funny thought that occurred to me when Natsume was thinking " what kind of person will buy that picture I wonder?" and my mind went "who knows, maybe he will be Yorishima as plot twist" as if that shut-in exorcist will go to auctions or even leave his house for that matter xDD

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 28: Fitz's Capture

Masterlist

June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity, restraints

"And wake." Snap.

Fitz's eyes popped open, as though he'd just closed them for a second -- but that clearly wasn't the case, because he was no longer backstage. Nor was he in his bedroom, on his couch, in someone else's bedroom, on someone else's couch, or in prison, which covered all the places he was likely to wake up unexpectedly.

No, instead he was in a sterile looking room, almost like a doctor or dentist office, perched on top of a table. His arms were restrained behind his back, a pair of handcuffs that he was sure he could easily get himself out of. Lily was standing in front of him, serene and confident.

He'd been a bad judge of character many, many times in his life, but he had a sinking feeling that this would turn out to be one of his more spectacular mistakes. He crushed down the little voice telling him about how he'd been stupid, so stupid, and tried to plaster an unflappable smile on his face.

"Did you have a nice rest? It seemed like you could use it," said Lily.

Fitz's eyebrow twitched with the amount of questions flooding his brain. He hadn't really even believed in mesmerism, and yet somehow she'd put him to sleep and taken him to a location that was clearly not anywhere in the theater. It didn't seem possible, and yet, here he was, trying to remain calm, act like he belonged here and that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"It seems I lost the bet," he said. "Good trick. Mind telling me where we are now?"

"Care to guess?"

He frowned, looking around the room. There wasn't much to go on, just a few chairs and tables. There was an odd post in the center of the room, and the table nearest him had what looked like medical tools on it. He hoped those were just decorative.

"Oh, it's beyond obvious that you've kidnapped me for ransom," he said, picking the most likely option and bluffing his way with the rest. He just needed to keep her talking while he worked his hands free of the cuffs, quietly so she would not hear. "A terrible decision on your part, really. I realize that it's hard to believe, but my family has no appreciation for my talents. They're not going to part with a single dime on my behalf. If anything, they'd pay you to keep me. Not that I expect you to listen to my sage wisdom, but you'd really be better off releasing me before this business gets any uglier."

"Don't worry, I know that your family has left you for dead. I wouldn't have taken you if I thought anyone was going to look."

Now that was actually worrying. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, mostly to stall for time since he didn't think he'd get a real answer from her. 

The door was right there, slightly ajar. Lily was smaller than him and didn't look particularly strong. He could overpower her if needed, especially if he caught her by surprise. And the sooner he got out of here, the better, before he found out firsthand why she didn't want anyone to come looking for him. One of his hands twisted free.

"I mean that I'm not interested in ransom. I'm going to make money from you in a much more surefire way." She grinned, and Fitz was sure he saw fangs there. That couldn't be right -- he had to be imagining things.

Still, she had somehow mesmerized him entirely. And she was very, very pale...

"And how do you intend to make this money?"

"I'll be selling you in an auction. An auction where you're going to be in very high demand. You see, your family's blood is extremely high quality, but it's too risky for us to take anyone whose disappearance might be investigated. That is, until you did the courtesy of divesting yourself of your pesky family. Really, I should thank you."

Fitz's mouth was going dry. "Did you say my blood? You mean my lineage? Because that --"

"No, I mean your literal blood." She was way too close to him now, and when she grinned, her fangs were very sharp and very obvious. How had he not noticed? "Haven't you figured out that I'm a vampire, yet? I thought you might be sharper than that."

"A vampire?" A chill gripped his heart. The evidence -- but no, there was no way. He forced himself to arrogantly laugh in her face. "You do realize I spend most of my time in the company of performers, magicians, occultists, fortunetellers, carnival freaks, and circus acts, don't you? I've rapped on the table during seances. I've been to a dozen rituals to trick rubes. Your vampire act is good, no doubt, but it falls a little short of believable."

She leaned back, and Fitz could see the door again. He slipped his other hand just free of the cuff. "You don't have to believe if you don't want," she said. "What you think hardly matters, especially when I'll be changing your mind. Now let's --"

He took his chance, leaping off the table, pushing her aside and bolting for the door. Fake vampire or no, he wasn't about to let himself be sold at any sort of auction. Thankfully, she clearly wasn't expecting him to slip the cuffs, so his escape should be --

His blood rushed to his ears as he was grabbed and slammed into a wall, with enough force to hurt but not enough to seriously injure him. Lily, the mousey woman a head shorter than him, with arms like fragile twigs, was effortlessly pinning him.

"You get one free attempt," she said. "Mostly because I like you, and you're far too valuable to harm."

Fitz kicked his legs uselessly, his struggles not even seeming to register with her. His panic was growing as he tried to think of an angle behind her apparently supernatural strength and reflexes and came up short. He'd never seen anything like this.

An actual vampire.

Yes, this was one of the worst of his mistakes.

With how effortlessly she'd stopped his dash for the door, escape probably wasn't an option as long as she had him in her sights. That meant his efforts had to go towards survival. Bluff and charm and stall and hope a better opportunity presented itself.

"Can you truly blame me?" he said, hoping his terror wasn't too obvious. Could a vampire smell fear? "I'm a magician. It's my instinct to try and escape. But I've learned my lesson, now."

"Have you?" she said, cocking her head. "You don't strike me as the type of man to learn his lessons easily."

"Perhaps not, but I am the type of man who would rather not be thrown into the wall again."

"That, I can believe," she said, releasing her grip. She walked over to a nearby cupboard, keeping her eye on him all the while. She pulled out a white linen shirt and slacks, tossing them at him. "Now, little magician, be nice and obedient and put these on without a fuss, and your body and mind can remain intact for now. How about it?"

"You want me to change in front of you?" Fitz asked, earning him an impatient glare. "Yes, yes, no fuss, lesson learned. I hope you enjoy what you see." He began unbuttoning his shirt, never breaking eye contact with Lily. He didn't like the sound of "intact for now." Nor did he like the implication that his mind would be harmed. She had him completely over a barrel, and all because he thought he could easily outwit a mesmerist. Stupid, stupid, he'd been so stupid.

He tried in vain to crush down his thoughts by making a great, dramatic show of whipping off his shirt, which gained no reaction whatsoever from Lily. "You know, you were quite good at being part of my magic show," he said as he stripped off the rest of his clothing. "And you have impressive talent as a mesmerist, not to mention your surprising strength. You could make a lot of money in vaudeville."

"I can make a lot of money selling humans."

"Vaudeville's a much easier paycheck, I would think."

"I wouldn't say that. It was awfully easy capturing you, wasn't it?"

Fitz couldn't help but scowl. There had to be some angle here. "Don't you feel a twinge of remorse, doing this? Kidnapping innocent people? Not me, of course, I'm hardly innocent, but surely others..."

"Oh, I do, at times. But my remorse pales compared to the size of my paycheck, not to mention my hunger for blood like yours."

"So that's it, then? Some vampire is going to drain me dry and leave me for dead?"

"Oh, not at all. With how valuable your blood is, it'd be extremely irresponsible to leave you for dead," she said. "No, more likely they'll leave you in a half-lucid state for years while they feed from you whenever the mood strikes them. If you're lucky, you'll get to keep enough of your mind to be a servant."

Stupid. Stupid. He'd been so stupid. "Well, doesn't that sound..." His composure broke, unable to think of a retort. Trapped by vampires, having his mind taken, being forced into servitude -- he always knew his life would lead him to some kind of bad end, but he didn't expect this sort of fate worse than death to be waiting for him. "Doesn't that just sound charming," he finished pathetically. 

The uniform was uncomfortably itchy and ill-made, and he was glad he had no mirror. "Well? Do I look the part of your prisoner?" he said, striking a pose before Lily.

"It'll do. You'll get a more thorough physical examination later," she said. "But it's almost sunrise, so for now I'll get you to your cell. Any funny business and I'll put you back to sleep."

"I think I've had enough charmed sleep for one night," he said, offering no resistance as Lily gripped his wrist and pulled him out of the room. They walked down a sterile corridor and through a set of metal double doors, the guard glaring at him as he passed through. The doors opened to a long row of prison cells, most filled with people in various states of misery. Some curled up, some sat on cots and stared vacantly at the wall, one woman was pacing and muttering to herself.

The reality of it all began to sink in. This wasn't a nightmare, or a trick, or a joke. He was actually a prisoner here, and he had no way out. It was all he could do to keep from fruitlessly struggling against Lily's grasp, knowing it could only make his situation worse.

She led him to an empty cell and motioned him inside, and he took a long look at the doors before reluctantly entering, the door closing behind him with a definitive clang.

"Meals are three times a night. The faucet water is for drinking and bathing. Use the bell if you need the chamber pot cleaned or if there is an emergency. Lights out means quiet. Noise during lights out, abusing the bell, or harming yourself will all be punished."

"What's the punishment?"

"Anything we like, so I wouldn't recommend testing it," she said. "Oh, and you should know that I am planning to keep your mind intact. I have an old friend who I think would appreciate your antics. But if you attempt to escape, that plan will change. Is that clear?"

Perhaps he had indeed learned a lesson, because he didn't doubt that she could do that. He had to do whatever it took to stay alive here. "Crystal clear."

"Good, I'm glad we can understand each other. I can tell we're going to get along well, Phantom Fitz."

"Like a house on fire," he said bitterly.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to stew in your many regrets. See you next evening."

As Lily walked away, Fitz flopped down on the meager cot with the rough mattress. Even his bed in the tiny room he'd rented was better than this. He couldn't help but think of his old family home -- the luxurious bed, the sumptuous food, the gorgeous clothing. He'd run away from it all to pursue his freedom, to live a life away from constant criticism and expectation. He'd been broke, slept in the nastiest of flophouses, gone hungry, begged, bartered, and stole. 

It had all been worth it when he was up on the stage, in his element. It was all going to be worth it when he made it big, when he basked in the applause of adoring crowds and rolled in riches every night. Approval he didn't need to wring out of his parents like blood from a stone, money that wasn't doled out with withering glares.

And now, that dream could all go up in smoke. A servant to a vampire. So much for freedom, fortune, and fame. If he had known...

He was stupid. So stupid.

Part 27 >> Masterlist >> Part 29

Thanks for reading this story of a down on his luck stage magician. Back to Oliver next.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs

[haliteatiger]

This my "Tav", Silence. I'm still sorta working out her background details, but for now it's safe to say she's had it pretty rough.

Check below the cut for a lot of rambling and pointless, self-indulgent headcanons.

Her name comes from the fact that she didn't speak for the first few years of her life, instead learning to play the violin and communicating through her art. Someone started calling her "Little Silence" and it just sort of stuck. She didn't know her parents, but was adopted by a noble who saw her as a unique "pet" given her unusual appearance - even for a tiefling - and her musical and artistic talents.

Unfortunately, the guy was bad with money, and ended up gambling away a good portion of whatever Silence earned, in the end becoming desperate enough to try and auction off her virginity when she came of age. Silence, obviously, was not going to stand for this, and managed to escape - possibly killing the man who bought her in the process, she wasn't sure and frankly doesn't care.

With only her violin and a precious few belongings in tow, Silence made her way to Baldur's Gate and was eventually found by a gang of performers and thieves (that I have yet to come up with a name for) where she learned ways on how to survive on the streets and defend herself with her art. Now in her late 20s, and poised to set out on her own due to some complications within her social circle, she was taken aboard the Nautiloid.

There are two sides to Silence - one is kind of quiet, observant, and sensitive. She has a way of simply blending into the background if she doesn't want to be observed (she's good at Stealthing, I guess), and the other is her more or less "bard persona", which is outgoing and charismatic. Contrary to her name, Silence can be quite talkative when the mood strikes her. It's usually when she becomes angry, flustered, or anxious where she seems to forget words entirely and has a hard time articulating herself, which has led into some dramatic situations when she lashes out more physically.

Overall, she's easygoing, and tries very hard not to let her emotions get in the way of her making decisions, and so often comes off as more pragmatic than anything. She's also pretty accepting of those around her even if she is, in actuality, slow to trust. I guess you could say she's highly manipulative as a defence mechanism. So it's not that she lies to people, per se, but she can come off as liking someone more than she does if only to deflect harm from herself. She is not a people-pleaser, however, and has very defined boundaries in terms of how far she's willing to concede to someone, especially a stranger. She's excellent at reading people (most of the time), acts more confident than she seems, knows a little about a lot of topics, and is always eager to learn more. She can be impulsive and rude without meaning to, and has something of a sarcastic and dry sense of humor that always seems almost prepared in advance whenever she snaps back at someone. Her charisma and wit often seem to leave others with the mistaken impression that she knows what she's doing in any given situation, and thus has often been beset with expectations she's sure she's more often than not fallen short of. Somehow, people just seem to think she's the most competent one in the room because she talks a good talk. Due to her dual upbringing, she is capable of blending in with high society as well as she does low. Silence will generally act within her own best interests or those of her friends, but it doesn't really take much to persuade her to do the right thing.

A good example would be when she and the gang arrive at the druid hold and is asked to help the tieflings. Initially she denies getting involved until mocked by Astarion for "turning her back on the needy", at which point, just to annoy him, agrees to help. (Although, when pressed she admits she mostly did it because she realized they needed some things in the area anyway and helping them could be beneficial to their cause). She can have kind of an impish sense of humor and while she doesn't like to see others get hurt, probably does take more pleasure in watching her enemies die writhing in agony than she'd care to admit.

Random fun fact: Silence is a feral tiefling, and her tail is supposed to be reminiscent of a heraldic unicorn's or lion's tail. She often carries it with a curl or S shape as she has a somewhat chronic fear of it being stepped on or pulled. She also has cat-like eyes (that I've had to mod in, but really wish Larian would include them naturally in the game because why not??? Same with more variations in tails...)

Other fun fact is that Silence has a Secret Power in which she's capable of using her tadpole to influence those around her when she plays a song infused with a particular strong emotion. Unfortunately, she cannot replicate the song later, at least not in the same way or with the same impact as when she played it. This generally acts like an empathic attack on those who can see and hear her, impressing upon them the emotion she's attempting to convey through song which can manifest in the audience's minds as how she imagines it - so a full orchestra if that's what she's hearing in her head. As one can imagine, the situations in which this is actually useful are few and far between, as it would require the proper conditions and emotional preparation for it to be effective, although I like to imagine she has used it a few times on a smaller scale to calm tensions in the group when camping some nights.

Relationships with the other NPCs:

Lae'zel - Admires her strength, but is suspicious of her motivations mostly because she seems more than capable of finding this creche by herself, but instead wants to drag the rest of them along with her. Either she's hiding an altruistic side to her or something else is going on. Silence tolerates Lae'zel's nasty attitude, but also can't help but find her and her people's culture fascinating. She often tries to overlook the Gith's biting tongue in order to inquire more about it. It's a mystery to Silence what Lae'zel truly thinks of her, but it's probably nothing good (even if she seems to get bonus points every time she shows an interest in her people.) About the only time she gets anything resembling a compliment from her is when she agrees with her about the use of their tadpole or if she does something worth being commended for in battle. Otherwise, Lae'zel doesn't seem to be terribly fond of Silence's violin playing as the high-pitched tones seem to bother her.

Gale - Gale and her get along famously, and, next to Wyll, finds him probably one of the easiest to talk to in the group. They both share a great interest in magic and, at times, a similar sense of humor (which is to say she's about as bad at puns as he is). They're both well-travelled and well-educated, and if she doesn't know or understand something magic-related, she's quick to ask Gale for guidance, and enjoys seeing him in his element. Gale seems fond of her wit, open-mindedness, and appreciation and interest she takes in the world around her and those that live in it. She seems to have a genuine interest and appreciation for everyone in the group and admires her dedication to watching their backs, even if it's obvious she doesn't entirely trust any of them. He likes that she seems to know a surprising amount about wizardry despite not being one herself - at least enough to ask advanced questions about things that he might consider to be outside the interest of most bards, as well as the fact that she isn't easily fazed by things that would turn most people's stomachs or make them balk in disbelief. As could be evidenced by her rather extensive anatomy studies on the bodies of their fallen enemies ("It's free art references!")

Admittedly, Silence was a bit shocked and uncomfortable to learn about Gale's history and his need to consume magic artifacts, but as he seems sincere in his efforts to keep it under control, chooses not to worry about it and does what she can to support him, which he greatly appreciates. There's still that little nagging voice in the back of her mind, however, even if he's friendly enough to get her to forget that at times. She has to remind herself on occasion that she doesn't really know him.

Shadowheart - Shadowheart and her also get along very well, even if they're both somewhat guarded around each other still, and Shadowheart, when not in the right mood, can be very difficult to talk to just in general. But, it's Silence who is first to lower her defenses, and speak to the Shar acolyte candidly. Silence finds the two of them have a lot in common in terms of how they approach most situations - pragmatic but always erring to self-preservation or that of the group's. Shadowheart seems to appreciate Silence's amicability, willingness to compromise, and respects that, even though she is friendly, she isn't naive about it. It also helps that Silence doesn't seem to have a problem with her being a worshipper of Shar and respects her desire for privacy even without being prompted. Silence appreciates how much of a team player Shadowheart really is, with her main interests usually centring around maintaining the group and essentially keeping everyone content enough not to turn on one another.

Astarion - Even though she enjoys picking on him from time to time, it's almost always in a way that he can also appreciate. She finds it more fun when the other person is in on the joke as well. This can and does include flirting, but thus far, she's made it pretty clear that she perceives it as simply something to laugh about (even if he might be absolutely serious about it). Unfortunately, at least initially, she also finds Astarion to be one of the hardest to read among the group, and picking on him isn't something she started doing until she knew where his boundaries lay. Up until then, she approached him delicately, allowing him to lead the conversations and learning what she could along the way, which, fortunately, he seems more than happy to do. As a result, he takes her quite a bit longer to translate than the rest, and doesn't feel entirely comfortable around him for a long time to come, really only engaging with him whenever he wishes to engage with her. As a result, the vampire tends to find Silence the most comfortable and trustworthy one of the group even if she seems careful enough not to let him get too close. He's likely the first to notice how little Silence voluntarily shares about herself, often distracting the others with reassurances, compliments, and asking questions she thinks they would enjoy answering.

Despite this he appreciates that she's easygoing and down-to-earth, while still having a good sense of humor and seems to know when to take something seriously, and, while at times seemingly easily impressed with the world around her (like he's one to talk), also seems to accept it for what it is and adapts accordingly.

In actuality, Astarion has about as much trouble reading her as she does him, as he's found it impossible to tell if she's genuine in her compliments and expressing interest in others around her. She certainly seems to have a gift for getting people to trust her. She's good at taking control of conversations and deflecting away from topics she doesn't want to talk about in the least offensive way possible, and he's made the mistake of reading her sincerity as naivety. She intrigues him as almost every time he thinks he has her figured out, she does or says something unexpected, or contrary to what he would assume about her, and he's not even sure if she's doing it on purpose. It's possibly a matter of them being out of step with one another, being of differing natures, even if he gets on better with her than he has anyone else in recent memory (insofar as we know about his story at least).

About the only things that get on his nerves at times is that she's maybe a little too soft, and a little too cautious and prone to overthinking than is good for her, mostly because it ends up involving dragging them into doing something boring or "unproductive" (not to their overall benefit). Never mind that she's encouraged him to wait in camp or go on without them if he has a problem with their decisions. It also bugs him that, even if she sees the merit in using the tadpoles, she's on board with the others that it isn't safe to do so until they know exactly what it is they're dealing with. Rather by accident, it would seem, Astarion finds himself liking her more than he realizes, especially after his condition comes to light and, lo and behold, she's not only okay with it, she wants to know everything about it and how they can use it to their benefit, even if she doesn't seem to be too terribly keen on being fed off of, as long as he can sate himself with bandits and ne'er-do-wells, she's off the hook insofar as she's concerned... for now, and has basically told him that she's his "emergency supply" if circumstances require it.

Despite all this, Silence is still vigilant, and while she trusts him with certain things, doesn't trust him completely, and knows full well the lengths to which his type is willing to go to cover their attempts at taking advantage of a situation.

[dostarve]

I have so much to say about the new DST animation OH MY GIDODOD

(Im rusty at text posts as I haven't done any for a while, so don’t bully me for my bad explanations)

The main things worth mentioning are Wilsons house being Wagstaff's old home, the MULTIPLE Woodrow references, the fact that Wagstaff is confirmed to be out of the constant, and what this means for the future of DST!!

Topic 1 So Wagstaff is building a portal to get out of the constant..? Or to get in it himself? I have so many questions!!

Im guessing that Wagstaff turned Wilsons original portal into a view into the constant, (possibly making it so he is able to use his hologram in the first place) as we can see he has changed it from Maxwell’s original design.

This raises questions of what year Wagstaff is in, is it still around the 1920’s or is he in a completely different century right now? He also FULLY changed the walls of the room to metal, (originally only two of the walls were metal, as we can see in Wilson’s flashback) and switched around Wilson’s decorating, so he obviously has been here awhile. Plus the house has cobwebs all over. Then we go back to the question of what is he trying to achieve with his holograms? And were his inventions the key to getting into the constant? He is a prominent figure in Don’t Starve’s lore and his inventions are too.

Topic 2

We see a skeleton, presumably Woodrow’s (WX-78’s) under Wagstaff's old floorboards.

The fact that the body is completely decomposed hints towards the fact that it has been a while after their death, which happened before/around 1919 (When Winona and Wagstaff were taken into the constant) Wilson gets taken into the constant in 1921, so it was around a three year period since Woodrows death. There is some objects around their body such as plaid fabric, a book, and what looks to be either a belt buckle or a button.

Wilson opens a box full of stuff, and if you look in the bottom right corner you can see a prototype WX-78 head, with the what looks like the word “Wood” written on the compass looking thing. Presuming that this is a box of Woodrow’s old stuff, we also have what looks like a record in packaging with the letters Di on it, a magnet, gears, papers, a spyglass looking thing (which may or may not be their glasses), and a folder with the words “Vol. III” on it.

Other things worth noting in this animation

The paper Wilson was holding, an Auction for houses, the only thing I can read is the words “Auction” and “Scientific” but if anybody is able to make out anything else let me know.

Vinyl records, possibly of Wigfrid’s songs, though thats just a guess.

This is a stretch, but the driver of the car that Wilson took, looks similar to Wolfgang, possibly a relative?

Thats all I have to say for know, I hope to see some other people analyzing the animation!!

[jungle-angel]

🤭 Number 45 screeeams Rhett 🌸

YOOOO!!!!!! Abso-fucking-lutely!!!!! So guess what honey?? This one's on me (lol).

Rhett couldn't take his eyes off you as you wandered through the back field near the main house. There was no work to be done that day or in the next few days, the cattle all ready for auction, the horses having been tended to and Abigail, the milk cow, her calves and her mate all wandering happily in the pasture with the little bells on their necks.

His eyes stayed fixed on you in that pale blue and yellow gingham house dress you had made, the very one that showed off your legs and dipped low to reveal just enough of your cleavage when you bent over. You went about picking small handfuls of brightly colored wildflowers, mountain daisies, indian paintbrush, harebells, yarrow, goldenrod, bachelor's buttons, fairy slippers and black-eyed susans. You looked like a dream to him, a wonderful, heavenly dream that he never wanted to wake from.

Rhett sat right up when you lifted the hem of your dress, drawing it up so far that it revealed part of your deep-blue lace skivies. It was only for a minute as you scratched a rather annoying bugbite that had been there for quite a while, but the sudden sight made his inner desire flare to life.

You came back to him, letting out a rather sad little sigh. "S'matter my peach?" he asked.

"I always hate when July ends," you told him. "Means summer will be over and we'll be cooped up in the house for three or four months."

Rhett stood up from where he had been sitting under the tree and drew you to him. "I know peach, I know," he told you.

"Don't get me wrong, I love apple picking, Halloween and all that," you told him. "But I miss the flowers and the heat.....just being able to go outside."

Rhett tilted your chin up so that your faces met, pushing his hat back just slightly so he could kiss you easily. "So whaddaya say," he said, before kissing you again. "We make the most of it and have a little fun?"

You hummed happily as his kiss trailed from your lips to your jaw, Rhett's arms encircling your waist. His hips pressed against yours, the stiff denim of his jeans against the thinner fabric of your dress....and something else with it.

"A little happy now aren't we?" you said with a naughty grin.

"Darlin, ya'll have no idea," he chuckled.

The two of you moved away from the tree and into the tall mix of wild grasses and wildflowers as Rhett carefully laid you down on your back. He nipped at your neck, your collarbone and your breasts, the obscene sucking and kissing noises throwing you quickly into a blinding ecstasy you had become familiar with.

"Please don't stop Rhett," you begged. "Feels so good."

You felt his stubble covered cheeks and jaw tickling the insides of your thighs as he kissed a little trail, lower and lower down to your core, hitting all the right spots he had mapped out in his brain.

"Don't clench on me now, darlin," he chuckled when you squeezed the muscles together in your thighs.

You felt your insides fluttering as he slid your panties off and worked his tongue into your core and the folds around it, Rhett's strong arms hooked around your thighs to keep him off the ground. "God I forgot how good you taste sweetheart," he mumbled.

You could hardly control the moans that were falling out of your mouth. It was a waterfall of moaning, panting and breathlessness that was music to Rhett's ears.

But then it stopped.

"Rhett?" you asked him. "Rhett, why did you stop?"

"Gotta take my pants off," he answered.

You snorted and laughed as Rhett first removed his maroon button-down shirt and then his jeans, freeing the large, throbbing monster-cock that lay in wait for you. You felt him sit you right up and into his lap, his cock sliding into you with ease, much more so than it had done the first time he had fucked you in the back of the truck.

It was a whirlwind of deep kissing and groping, his hands roaming up your dress and popping the buttons on the back to slide it right off. It wasn't long before the two of you were completely naked, Rhett's hips shifting and moving against yours, making you moan with each thrust.

"Jeez darlin!" he exclaimed with surprise. "You're fuckin soaked!"

You couldn't deny it if you wanted to. The noises that came from the both of you, your hips slapping together, the slickness, the heavy breathing, it was all unholy.

And you loved it.

You let out a squeaky little cry when you felt something hot explode between your legs, your foreheads touching, eyes shut and your lips just barely brushing together. It took a minute for the two of you to catch your breath, guiding each other down from the dizzying high and waiting for your breathing to even out.

You both lay in that field, skin-to skin with each other, a little sprig of bright red indian paintbrush in your fingers and perfectly content in the moment. "We could always spread some of those seeds in the garden," Rhett remarked when he saw the little red flower.

You chuckled a little and kissed his lips. "Don't worry," you told him. "I have a feeling we've already spread enough seeds out here."