#i did not proofread this and it was written very hastily

[defensivelee]

ok here's why Bentinck is my favorite Six Lives OC beyond anyone else. idk where this came from but i've had so much thoughts about him and i cannot keep them in.

cw: csa, objectification, religious cults, indoctrination

there's just something about that boy in Dona Dona... he's fucking tragic. he wants to be so loyal, and he has so much love to give, but because of this literal cult he was born into, he has nowhere to channel that into except for this equivalent of a religious far-right extremist group. he was so ready to obey and learn! it's just the meanest fucking trick of the universe that he had to be born... here.

and that made him a perfect candidate to be an Ally of the Devils of Orange-Nassau. it was scary for him, to be told as a goddamn ten year old that 1) Allies are less than all life on earth, for ever daring to standing in the way of the true rulers; the Overlifers, 2) it is morally okay to use and objectify Allies as the Overlifers wish! and 3) that all Allies have to die in order for the Overlifers to rule. but fuck man he was so excited to serve William's father. he was going to be given so much power and abilities and he would use it all to help forward this awful cause! but it's just evil, yknow? telling a child that they're basically worthless unless they gift their power to these extremists. but he thinks it's the most honorable thing he could have been chosen for.... to live and die for these people, for William.

he does stop believing that he will die later on, for one reason or the other, but man. everything else. he's just a kid. and he's already being groomed to believe that sexual assault is not something he has the right to complain about. i mean, you just take the kiss from William's father-- it was nothing to that man, ofc, he wasn't even necessarily attracted to Hans. it was reminding that boy of his position, reminding William of his position, nothing else. and Hans was so happy at the time, he thought it was so great... agrghghh it's heartbreaking. it only took a kiss. and now he's an adult, and while he thinks he's just fine with it... does he always say yes to William? yes, but could he say no if he wanted to? you could not even begin to explain to him why this is sexual exploitation. it was the fucking kiss. it sickens him that he was so proud of it then, and it only serves to make him more certain that this is where he belongs, and he deserves all the treatment he gets.

i love William here, but i think everything in this AU is just so fucking cruel to Bentinck. there's no good way about it. he loves William so much, and to learn why this is all wrong and ultimately breaking away from the Devils of Orange-Nassau means betraying William. he could never get himself to do that. but then, if he stays... Anne's right! he's just doomed to die! William's so-called destiny is a very rough thing here, and he's suffered much for it, but yknow what at least he'll fucking get SOMETHING: the world, if all succeeds. Bentinck has to die for William to get there. because he happened to be the one that William's father chose, the most beautiful boy who just had to be raised by this world of violence. because William came to love him. it's like... where do you even go fro m there.

what a thing to subject your best friend to. idk how William can live without loathing himself... but then, ig he does live like that a lot of the time.

for however much i love whumping Bentinck, he's the one character here who i think deserves, more than a beating... JUST SOME FUCKING PEACE MAN. i want Anne to hold him :( i want him to choose who he wants to be :(

[pulisicsgirl]

not going anywhere - christian pulisic

summary: after Christian (and several others) notice how Y/N hasn't been herself for the last few weeks, he finally decides to confront her about how she's feeling

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, discussions of mental health and illness, mentions of meds, supportive Christian, hastily proofread

requested: no

notes: Hey there!! This has been sitting in my draft for probably 6 months and I wanted to put something out, so I tried to finish it and make it at least decent for y'all! I promise I'm trying to work on your requests and I have several halfway written, but I've just been struggling in the writing department all summer. Thanks for being patient with me! If this fic is a steaming pile of garbage... pretend you didn't read it

x

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Christian that you hadn’t been yourself lately.

Your relationship was fairly new, having only been together for a few months, but as attentive as Christian was, he recognized the little things that had shifted in your personality.

He noticed how when you smiled at someone, it never quite reached your eyes—the little wrinkles that usually appeared in the corners were absent. He noticed how when you laughed, as soon as you thought no one was looking, the grin on your face quickly faded, replaced by the absent and distant look that adorned your face so often recently.

He noticed that you would zone out far more often than usual, eyes unfocused as you stared at a distant point. When he caught you in this state, Christian would tangle his fingers with yours or gently place his hand on your thigh, drumming his fingers in an attempt to pull you back from wherever it was that you would drift off to.

He was concerned, to say the very least, but each time he tried to bring it up to you, you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, chalking it up to being tired or overworked.

It didn’t take long for others to notice the change, too. As a prominent member of the media department at Chelsea, you had a friendly relationship with many of the players. You were often on the training pitch or on the sidelines at games, snapping photos of the boys as they played. Often, you would mess around with them, cracking jokes and laughing along with them, but not recently.

The joking had been cut to a bare minimum, and you rarely interacted with them at all. You spent just enough time on the training fields to get the content you needed before leaving to work in your office, unseen for the rest of the day. Several of the boys had asked Christian about you. They missed you. But Christian didn’t know what to tell them.

Finally, Christian decided enough was enough. He would have to “corner” you in some way and get you to talk to him. He had wanted to let you have your space and respect your desire to not talk about the matter, but he could see the whole situation physically weighing on you, and he knew that if he continued to let you bottle it up inside, you were going to explode. He resolved that by the end of the day, he’d talk to you.

That night, you had come over so that the two of you could have dinner together. Most of the dinner was spent in silence, you lost in your own thoughts, and Christian trying to work up the nerve to ask what he needed to. He wasn’t sure how to approach this kind of conversation with you—the two of you hadn’t dealt with a situation like this yet in your relationship.

Once your plates were cleared, you stood in his kitchen, washing the dishes, despite Christian’s protest that he could do it later that night. He sat on the counter, wanting to still be in close proximity with you. His heart broke a little when he noticed that you weren’t humming like you always did when you cleaned.

You rinsed off the last dish, placing it on the drying rack with the others, and you were rinsing the leftover suds from the sink when you felt Christian’s arms slide around your waist. He pressed his chest to your back and rested his chin on your shoulder as you turned the sink off, drying your hands on a towel.

“Can we talk?” He spoke softly and placed a kiss onto your shoulder.

You felt your heart sink in your chest. You knew this conversation was coming, but you were hoping to postpone it as long as you possibly could. “Yeah, what’s up?” you tried to speak casually, downplaying the nervous feeling that had settled in your stomach.

“C’mere,” he whispered. You dropped the towel on the counter next to the sink as Christian pulled you to the side where he had been sitting before and turned you around in his arms. He placed his hand on your hips, lifting you to sit on the countertop.

For a moment, the two of you remained in silence. Christian stood between your legs, unsure of what to say first. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing the bare skin below your shorts soothingly. Your heart pounded so quickly in your chest that you swore he could hear it as he stood in front of you. You desperately tried to calm yourself, still determined to play things off if you could manage it.

“So… um, you… you haven’t really been yourself lately,” he stumbled over his words and mentally cursed himself for starting so poorly. “I just… I’ve noticed a lot of little things that seem different, and you don’t really seem… happy.” He glanced up at your face, trying to gauge your response. He felt a little guilty for being so direct with the situation, but he didn’t want to keep dancing around the problem.

You drew in a breath, but Christian spoke again before you could. “And please don’t tell me that you’ve been tired, because you keep saying that, but I think it goes beyond that.” The nervousness you felt only intensified, and now you felt slightly nauseous, knowing there was no easy way out of this conversation.

You brought one of your hands up to your mouth, biting at the skin by your nails. Christian recognized the nervous habit of yours and he saw how you used it to try to put space between you and him as a form of defense. He reached up and took your hand in his. With a gentle but firm tug, he pulled your hand back into your lap and looked at your face with earnest concern.

You hesitated a moment longer, looking anywhere but at his face.  Sitting in front of him, your hands held in his, resting on your thighs, you had never felt so vulnerable and exposed. He stroked his thumb over your knuckles, squeezing your fingers in an attempt to pull you out of your thoughts and back to him.

The silence between the two of you was long and overwhelming as your head spun with wild thoughts. Did you continue trying to put a wall between you and tell him nothing was actually wrong? Or did you open up to him, tell him what was really happening, and run the risk of scaring him off?

“Come on, I can practically see you getting lost in there.” He poked your forehead gently with his free hand, laughing softly to try to relieve some of the tension in the air.

You glanced up at Christian’s face, and his gentle, reassuring smile brought tears to your eyes instantly. Looking back down at your lap so he couldn’t see you beginning to cry, you settled on trying your best to explain the thoughts that had been swimming around in your mind for the last couple of weeks.

“I don’t know, Christian, I just… kinda get this way sometimes.” You shrugged your shoulders. It didn’t make sense to most people, but it was the reality. “Nothing really happened. Everything is fine. You didn’t do anything. I just… I feel kinda hollow.”

Christian was relieved to hear that your pain hadn’t been cause by something he had done, having toyed with the idea as he wracked his brain for the last weeks, trying to think of what could have gone wrong to make you feel this way. But he still wasn’t sure he understood exactly what you were saying.

“I used to take meds for it, but I stopped taking them a little while after I graduated high school. They made me feel like I wasn’t really myself, and I didn’t want that anymore.” Your still fidgeted nervously as you opened up to him, but at the same time, the weight on your shoulders felt the tiniest bit lighter as you let Christian bear some of it with you.

Christian remained silent for a moment after you stopped talking, processing the things you had just told him He thought he was beginning to understand what you were saying, though your vague description left several questions swirling in his mind. He was happy, though, that you finally felt comfortable opening up to him, and he figured the finer details could wait until another day.

His silence, however, did nothing to calm your racing heart.

“So, I guess this is the part where you leave?” you whispered before you could even think about it, uneasy with how quiet the room had gotten. Your eyes were glued to your lap, and Christian’s hands froze at your words, where they had been smoothing over your knuckles, trying to soothe you.

“W-what?” he stuttered in surprise, heart sinking at the thought that you might be breaking up with him. When you finally looked up to his face, his eyes were wide, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He looked so hurt that you almost felt bad for saying it in the first place.

You took your hands from his as you began to pull away from him, picking at the edges of your fingernails, fixing your gaze downward again. “I’ve done this before, Christian,” you mumbled. “I get weird, you ask about it, and then once you find out that I can’t be fixed… you leave.” You sigh, having resigned yourself to the outcome that had played out in your life before. You sat there, feeling defeated, with your shoulders slumped.

A sniffle coming from him causes you to dart your eyes up to his face, and his eyes are misty as he fights back the tears that he can feel welling up in them.

“You really think that?” his voice quivers.

All you can muster is shrugging your shoulders. “That’s what everyone else did. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Your words shatter his heart into a million pieces. The pain of thinking you were ending your relationship vanished quickly, replaced with a new kind of pain at the realization of how you had been treated in your past.

As the first tears slipped down his cheeks, Christian pulled you into a tight hug, holing you as close to his body as he could muster as he buried his face in your neck. You felt the warm tears against your skin as you slowly returned the hug, caught off-guard by his actions.

Christian felt a bit silly. Here he was, crying on your shoulder after the things that you had just revealed to him, experiences that you’d had in your own life. He just couldn’t fathom that anyone could possibly treat you in such a way. You were the kindest, most gentle and caring woman he had ever known, and he truly believed that you deserved the world. Sure, it had been hard to see you in the state you had been in for the last few weeks, but he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to what you were. And it never would have even occurred to him to think of you as burdensome—to think that he needed to “fix” you in some way.

Christian drew back from the embrace, quickly wiping his eyes while he still held onto your waist with the other. You were caught a bit off-guard by his behavior, never having experienced this reaction before, and you weren’t entirely sure what it meant.

Christian breathed a soft “I’m sorry” before he looked back up at you, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, and you couldn’t help but lean into his comforting touch.

“Y/N, you are absolutely worth everything. It’s not a burden to be with you. You know that right?”

Tears quickly sprung to your own eyes at his words, and you cast your eyes back down to your lap. In an honest answer, you shook your head ‘no’. This was how you had always thought of yourself, and you constantly felt like you needed to be compensating your partner in some way for the things they had to put up with for your sake.

Christian’s other hand came to your cheek, holding your face gently so that you would look him in the eye.

“You’re not a burden Y/N,” he spoke softly, his eyes flicking over your face. His expression held a sort of desperation—aching to show you that he truly believed what he was saying. “You’re not, I promise. And I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life telling you that until you believe it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart fluttered at his words.

‘…every day for the rest of my life…’

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you?

Marriage wasn’t something the two of you had really talked about yet, because your relationship was so new. But any time you thought about your future, you knew you wanted Christian to be in it. And knowing he felt the same way meant the world.

You felt Christian’s thumb brush across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen. You could only stare at him, wondering to yourself how you had managed to find someone as perfect as him.

“I’ll always be here for you. Anything you need,” he smiled at you, feeling that he was finally getting through to you.

The only response you could muster was a soft, “okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

The relief Christian felt that he finally had some understanding of why you hadn’t been yourself over the last few weeks was nearly overwhelming. He pulled you toward him, pressing a firm kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Never doubt that.”

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic

[resowrites]

Special Brew - oneshot.

Summary: Henry’s interview gets gatecrashed…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader/Wife!OC, Interviewer

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, fake interview, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript reader/OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2221

A/N: Hi folks I know it’s been a while, work’s nuts these days. This is very rushed and was meant to be longer (I wanted to base it on something I’d written previously) but for the sake of just getting something uploaded I decided to post as is. Sorry I can’t post regularly anymore but I hope you enjoy all the same - R x

Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Gifs/pics not my own. Thanks for visiting!

Special Brew - oneshot.

The following is an excerpt from an article that can be read in full here.

— It's at about the halfway mark in my interview with the 41-year-old Hollywood actor, Henry Cavill, when I notice his attention is caught by something offscreen. 

"Where did you get that?" I think I hear 'the fridge, you dickhead,' in reply. He grins. But instead of resuming our discussion about his upcoming role in the rebooted 80's classic, Highlander, he starts gesturing for someone to join him. It fails. So seconds later his partner is pulled onto his lap despite some very loud protestations. He tells her it's her fault for taking his last tin of lager. She tells him she needs it more. What then follows is an almost a four-and-a-half minute squabble - yes I actually timed it - which ends with Henry relinquishing the can on the proviso that if he has to be interviewed, she does as well. I don't take offense but soon wondered if that was premature: 

"Who's interviewing you? The Telegraph?"

"No, The Guardian--"

"Wouldn't the Telegraph be more interested?" He gestures in my direction.

"Well, I assume Mark is all the same!"

"And how long have you been keeping this poor bastard?"

"We've not even been chatting half an hour!" 

"Oh… have you got a second question for him?" I smile. The 35-year-old financier first met the actor in 2015 and they were rumoured to have married in 2022. Not that either of them, his publicist, or even various social media accounts provide much in the way of confirmation. This seems to stem more from a desire for privacy where possible than anything else. Though it must be said, at first glance they make for an incongruous pair. She catches me peering at her still towel-wrapped hair, Celtic jersey, and joggers combo and wastes no time striking first:

"That's a nice shirt--"

"Don't be cheeky, just 'cos you could have made more of an effort--"

"It's my day off! At least I don't look like an undercover policeman." Is she referring to Henry or myself?

"I don't know, stand up," I laugh but he just rolls his eyes. "Has he apologised for Aryglle yet? To be fair that was actually my fault, I wanted a new kitchen." This lays the ground for what is arguably one of the most chaotic interviews I've experienced in a while.

"Do you see what I mean, Mark? It's not that she wouldn't be media trained, it's that she couldn't." Now she rolls her eyes.

"See, he thinks he's being slick by making me look bad--"

"I'm the one who does that?!"

"So he looks better by comparison--"

"Is that right? And what was wrong with Aryglle?!"

"Nothing! It's the best thing you've ever done. Even if you didn't mean for it to be." She coughs to try and cover a laugh. I ask for her thoughts on his most recent box office offering (Guy Ritchie's spy action comedy, The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) but for a split second, the title escapes me.

"You mean The Manly Ministry of Something?" Henry tuts and grabs back the can. I dare to question if she has a low opinion of the profession in general. "No, it's more to do with the actors themselves." How so? "Well, considering they're usually the biggest gobshites you'd think it'd be great craic hanging out with them--" he quickly interjects.

"Who are you calling a gobshite?!"

'What do you mean?"

"You know fine well what I mean!" Henry turns back towards me and continues. "Even her own mother took me aside a couple of weeks after we started dating to try and warn me--"

"She never! What did she say?"

"Do you really want to discuss that right now?!" It can't be that bad then, I respond. He shakes his head, despairingly. "Oh no, just that she once walked on stage at a school assembly and instead of graciously accepting an award, pretended to trip so she could drag every single trophy off the display table!"

"… Can you tell he went to a private school?" I almost spit my drink out.   

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not realise how tame that sounds?!"

"But that was just the first month you were there!"

"Then I deserved an award--"

"Hang on, she also told me that when you had an after-school detention on your birthday, you climbed out the window of the room you were being supervised in--"

"Normally I'd just get on the bus and go home so that time they gave me a personal escort--"

"And then refused to come down from the roof unless they gave her a birthday cake!" Laughter rings out between our two screens. "In the end, they had to call the fire brigade and she became the reason why their school couldn't properly open their windows any more--"

"I also got a ride home in a fire engine so, hands down one of my best birthdays." Henry sighs. I wonder aloud how this contrasts with his own experiences of school. 

"Er, I mean I was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, so I felt a bit intimidated by that sort of thing." 

"He still is." He now chokes on his drink. Does this mean they wouldn't have crossed paths as kids?

"Nah, she'd have bullied me then as well." They both laugh. So she hasn't mellowed at all in the intervening years?

"I would say I have, yeah… you do as you get older." Henry's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"Oh right, so I just hallucinated that night at the Bafta’s then?" She clears her throat and takes a large swig from the can. Is this why she doesn't typically attend red carpets with him?

"Ugh, I'd rather shit in my hands and clap--"

"That and the fact you're a fucking liability!" She shrugs as he explains. "A few years ago, I made the mistake of dragging her along to the after-party--"

"Well, that explains why I didn't fucking remember. Why did I have to come? You didn't win anything you were just presenting--"

"Oh fuck off! I even promised to take her on holiday for a couple of weeks if she at least tried to behave herself--"

"'Cos that's a good incentive--"

"And Jesus Christ, never again. If I wasn't blackballed in this industry before, I was that fucking night--"

"No, it's 'cos you won't take acting lessons." Henry smirks and tries to cover her mouth this time.

"At least I didn't go up to a circle containing Judi Dench, Helen Mirren--"

"Look at him dropping names! And it's Dame Judi…"

"And last but not least, the Meryl Streep--"

"You know, of Mama Mia…" A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. 

“Only to ask them where their cauldron was!" 

"But that's the great thing about being a nobody, you can say whatever want--"

"You're not a nobody--"

"No, I'm your plus one…" They howl with laughter. "The best thing is to underdress slightly as well so they think you're staff, the reactions are even better." And what was the response? "None of them heard me." He snorts.

"Judi just burst out laughing--"

"Judi! Like they're friends! Yeah, well she saw us arrive together so I think she was onto me."

"Luckily she's got a robust sense of humour…"

"Not like that other one. Oh, what's his name? You know… the one that says he'd rather be making shoes?" Sir Daniel Day-Lewis?

"Yeah, she asked him if he wanted her to go look for his top hat." I can feel my own jaw drop.

"That's how he reacted! Oh God, I'd give my left tit to relive it…" I ask where Henry is when these interactions go down. "Usually trying to find the nearest exit--"

"Is it any wonder!" 

"But we were only there twenty minutes--" 

"And he wasn't even the first Daniel you managed to piss off!" And who was that?

"Dan Snow." The broadcaster? Henry glances heavenward, exasperated.

"No, Jon Snow - and she means Kit Harrington. She got talking to him and somehow things managed to go south even quicker than usual." I can see how referring to him instead as the 50-year-old historian might have that effect. "No, it wasn't that, it was when he asked whether she was enjoying Game of Thrones--"

"Which is presumptuous isn't it?" For once even I'm at a loss for words. 

"And so she asked him if that's the show with dragons and when he said 'yes,'" he starts cracking up, "she went 'then, no.'" I don't think I've ever seen a man look so crestfallen - not even when you accosted Sam." Mr. Rockwell? I'm assuming that took place while Henry was still on the Argylle press tour?

"Oh yeah that was a gas, I waited until we were a bit better acquainted--"

"So the poor sod had his guard down--"

"And on the last day, I asked if he'd sign a picture for me. I think he assumed it was for a friend or something so he wasn't expecting me to thank him for gifting Henry his picture to put above the toilet--"

"What's worse is that it was that still from The Green Mile, you know? Literally, the first one that pops up on Google!" This anecdote puts me in mind of a similar story I heard on the grapevine during the first season of Netflix's The Witcher. Against my better judgment, I ask him if knows what I'm talking about and immediately his eyes flash in recognition.  

"Yeah, and it pains me to say that's also true."

"What is?"

"Your stunt at the Witcher premiere…" For a moment she looks genuinely confused. "Don't pretend you can't remember!"

"Remember what? I wasn't even there!"

"And even that didn't spare me!" 

"Oh I can't fucking win Mark, all I did was try and bring a smile to his face 'cos I knew he was sad about me having to work that night--"

"So naturally you had an 8x10 still printed of me with Orlando Bloom's head (as Legolas), photoshopped on top? Which, by the way, you could have just messaged me. But what did you do instead? You made dozens of copies and had my bodyguard hand them out to fans for me to sign." She waits for a beat.

"But how long did it take for you to notice?" Gentle reader, when I tell you this is one of only a handful of occasions I've ever laughed so hard in an interview, it's because I want you to know how rare that's actually been over a 35-year career in entertainment journalism. Still, I imagine that if she was brazen enough to taunt some of Hollywood's most influential stars, far worse shots have since been fired.

"Oh yeah, why don't you tell Mark how you recently mouthed off to Aaron Taylor Johnson?" Even she begins to look sheepish. 

"Yeah, but I was only trying to make conversation." Henry's head falls into his hand. She snickers. What on earth happened? "Honestly, nothing. I just said I hoped he really was being considered for Bond ‘cos he looks great in a suit." I hardly know how to respond. "Now that I think about it, he probably just thought I got you two mixed up--"

"Stop it right now!"

"What? You bought me in on this interview!" This of course is true and seems to serve a more serious purpose the longer our conversation continues. That he adores her is plain - his eyes never leave her. But it's the fact she can keep making him laugh, even under the scrutiny of being interviewed, that seems to make all the difference. Is that the key to the success of their relationship? "Well, that and the fact he's gone for six months out of any twelve--"

"So all the messages saying you miss me is just lip service?"

"Oh alright, it's cos he's got a huge… heart. Almost as big as his bank balance." Henry's legs are suddenly thrown in the air. At first, it seems he lost his balance, but judging from how quickly he then chases her from the room, I assume it was she who pulled the lever on his office chair that sent him hurtling to the floor. 

A couple of days later, I received a brief email from her which apologised for them both having 'christened more than a couple of ships' that day and explained how she was grateful that even though she 'had a lot of baggage' before they met, Henry refused to give up on her. She signed off with the following; 'His biggest problem is his limited self-belief. But seriously, he's admired because, in a professional and personal life full of arseholes, he's still, as Virginia Woolf said of her husband right before she died by suicide, 'entirely patient and incredibly good'. I'll never be drunk enough to say that to his face so I've cc'd him in.' I double-checked and saw that she had indeed emailed him as well. It's an oddly moving, albeit characteristically funny postscript and one that underlines her devotion to him no matter what. We should all be so lucky.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is on Amazon Prime Video.

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@fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira @thearcana-moonlight

[solarrclxud]

JUST FOR YOU

summary : Xiao is in no need for mortal gifts , but you are an exception

pairing : xiao x reader

genre: fluff

warnings : not proofread , they're dumb and in love.

a/n: grumpy men with soft spots are my fav

It had been a week since you had seen xiao. You had gone on an adventure to Fountaine for a suddenly scheduled commission and hadn't had the chance to say goodbye in person , resorting to a hastily written letter left on the Wangshu Inn balcony under a plate of " apology tofu" .

You hummed a tune you had learned from a bard in Fountaine as you walked up the stairs of the inn , waving and Verr Goldet and returning her greetings. " Xiao!" you half yelled , calling out to your favorite adeptus . You looked around the balcony , finding noone . Not a trace of the yaksha. Sighing in disappointment u leaned over the railing of the balcony , relaxing your shoulders ,glass bottles clinking together in your backpack.

A soft woosh was heard behind you and you immediately perked up " Xiao!" you grinned . "You called? " he said , his voice had a new edge to it , he was looking directly at you , there was something soft in his eyes . " Did u miss me?" you asked , taking off your backpack and leaving it on the ground , taking a few steps closer to xiao. He didn't move away , instead he looked away " you left a note" he said , trying to dismiss your accusations unsuccessfully. " mhm and i kept my promise! i brought you some stuff! " you said , reaching for your backpack.

He took the box from you and inspected it , his joy at the gift was thinly veiled , but enough to slip past your detection. " Thank you " he whispered softly , you barely heard it but you looked at him with slight shock ."what?" . " Thank you " he said slightly louder , refusing to meet your eyes as he put the bracelet on his wrist . When he finally looked up from his hands , in what felt like ages , your eyes met. The silence between you both felt like it stretched on for years , tension thick as your both began to subconsciously move closer to eachother. He suddenly cleared his throat and looked away , disappearing into a cloud of green and black, leaving you there , confused.

You took out a single bottle of Fonta and a small velvet box , holding the bottle out to him with a smile . He just looked at it , confused," i have no need for mortal-"

" shut up and take it ."

" excuse me?"

" i brought it for you , try it ?" you asked , trying to convince him with sparkles in your eyes. He felt himself start to relent.

" no"

" Xiaooo" You whined slightly

" no" he looked away , slight pink dusting his cheeks at this point.

" please?" you said , moving slightly to be in his line of sight. He sighed in fake annoyance. " Fine. Just a sip though" He said , taking the bottle from you and taking a small sip.

" sooo?" You asked , excited to know his response.

" its..it is bearable" he said taking another sip from it , to your obvious delight.

Now that he had tasted the Fonta , you held out the velvet box with slight nervousness that he caught onto . "Well , there is this too , its a bracelet..I found the pearls when i went diving" You smiled tentatively ,opening the box to reveal a bracelet and awaiting his response. " A bracelet?" he breathed , " yea I... they're transoceanic pearls " you said , the pit in your stomach growing slightly at his lack of expressions did he not like it? .

The next time you saw him , it was 2 days later , on an expedition in Dihua Marsh. His face was slightly red as he approached you . " I made you...an adepti amulet.." his voice wavering very slightly " It is to ward off evil" . You smiled , accepting the gift , " Thank you Xiao" . " Its for your hair " he said , watching you as you put it on , his cheeks growing warmer by the second. Your smile grew as you saw his hand , clutching his spear . He was wearing your bracelet.

thank you <3 xiao in the new event quest is my end fr <3

[nobodysdaydreams]

✨My Unhinged Visions for the TMBS Kids’ Villain Arcs: ✨

Based on this poll, and this post by @kaslynspeaks and @sophieswundergarten. They activated the brain bees, and you can blame them for this.

Warning: Insanely long post. I go through each kid individually, discuss a premise for their fall to villainy, and then I give you a hastily written scene which I did not proofread, that probably contains typos and misspellings. Some are longer than others, some end abruptly, some are a lot darker than others, but they all have happy endings so you're welcome for that at least.

I also kept it vague whether I was talking about the book or show characters so while I draw on elements from both, you can imagine most of these with either character.

Please enjoy!

I'll start with Kate Wetherall.

The Premise:

I picture her as a teenager or young adult for this. Her villain arc is pretty brief tbh, but I think that fits Kate. She'd impulsive and emotional and maybe even the most likely to go dark the quickest for those reasons, but she also has strong morals, and I don't think she'd fall very far, and I also think she might be the most likely to turn around.

Here's the scenario. The society has won, and now they've started working together to take down bad guys.

Kate loves it, but she starts getting carried away sometimes. Seeing men that are willing to hurt children the way that she was hurt sets something off in her. Sometimes she takes things too far, or acts impulsively in the heat of the moment. The others protest this, insisting that Kate only needs to use enough force to stop other criminals, not harm them.

Kate feels frustrated, not only because she feels like her friends are criticizing her, but also because this is what she's good at. She's the one who fights. Why should she hold herself back when the others can use their intellect to their full potential?

The others don't realize how much of this is connected to Kate's inner turmoil, her feelings of frustration. They simply remind her that "that's not how they do things."

But maybe it should be, thinks Kate.

Maybe it would send a message. Not just to the criminals but to the children they hurt. To let those children know that someone cared to make sure that the people who hurt them paid for what they did. So that they wouldn't feel abandoned. So that they wouldn't feel how Kate always felt.

So she works in secret. She couldn't bear another condescending lecture from her father or the others. I picture her leading a sort of vigilante circus themed squad. They're all strong and athletic, obviously, but they're also incredibly creative. Whatever a bad guy's fear is, they can use illusions, contortion, and all sorts of creepy imagery to make it come to life. To make them pay for what they did. To break them, to reduce them to nothing.

And Kate as a leader finally feels respected, valuable. For once, she isn't told to hold back her impulsiveness, her emotions, her abilities, her creativity. In fact, she's praised for her lack of restraint. And she tells herself she doesn't need to feel bad either because after all, these are the bad guys. They deserve it.

But eventually the others find out. Kate tells them there's no point in another lecture, but this time, they don't lecture. They don't even know what to say.

Because they're horrified. They're horrified that Kate could ever think that punishing people like this, criminals or not, is a suitable use of her talents. Kate reminds them that they always got to use their intelligence to their full potential whenever it suited them.

And now, the scene (picture this occurring in a circus themed lair. Idk just role with it. Brain tired):

"I was the one who was too much," Kate reminded him.

"You three were the brilliant ones. The psychic, the scholar, the genius. But me? I was just the muscle. The "creative" one. The impulsive one. The liability," she scoffed.

"My talents were only useful when they were directed by my intellectual superiors. What you wanted. What you planned. But here? Here I'm a leader, Reynie. I get results and I get justice my own way. And I'm not interested in hearing another lecture about acting impulsively, or going too far, or about how all of your know so much better than I do. So save it."

"Fine!" snapped Constance. "Then we'll spare you the lecture, if you want to skip straight to the fighting."

Kate paused, and the look of betrayal in her eyes was evident.

She thought they might be here to lecture or disapprove of her methods, but had they...had they really come here to...to...

Kate shook her head.

"I don't want to fight you. And even three against one, was all know that would hardly be a fair fight."

Sticky winced and held himself back from the overwhelming urge to nervously polish his spectacles, remembering how many times he'd watched his friend take down men (grown trained men) like it was nothing.

Constance, still bitter from Kate's deception, raised her fists.

"I'd still take those odds."

"Constance-" cautioned Reynie, but it was already too late.

"Very well," said Kate.

Her followers stepped forward to assist her, but Kate motioned for them to step back.

"Trust me," she said to them. "I appreciate the offer, but I can take handle this one on my own."

The others knew that wasn't a lie.

Kate raised her own fists and addressed the trio.

"You always thought your minds made you so much better than me, so let's see how well you can actually do without me. Good luck. You'll need it. Even if I do intend to go easy on you."

"Katie-Cat?"

Kate groaned.

"This is none of your concern."

"I should say that it is," her father replied, stepping out from the shadows to confront his daughter. "Considering I raised you better than this."

"Raised me?"

Milligan immediately realized his mistake.

"Katie-Cat, I-"

"Didn't mean to leave me?" Kate snapped. "I know Dad. I know you didn't mean to. No, you just chose a dangerous job working for a dangerous man and put your own life at risk, when you knew your child had no one else but you."

The hurt in her father's eyes made Kate regret her words, but only for a moment.

After all, it's not as if what she said wasn't true.

"I'm sorry," said Milligan earnestly, realizing perhaps for the first time how much his child was still hurting.

How much she'd been lying every time she said that she was fine. How much she'd been hiding her pain from him, from everyone.

"It wasn't fair to you. I promise, I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you."

"Really?" said Kate. "Well then. I suppose there is something you can do for me."

"Anything Katie-Cat," said Milligan softly, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Stay out of my way," Kate ordered, looking her father directly in the eyes, doing her best to look tall, strong, and intimidating.

Milligan's face hardened slightly. He knew that look. It was a look he'd seen in his daughter's eyes before, her fearsome determination, her resolve not to back down.

It was normally one of the traits that he admired most about her.

"I can't do that Katie-Cat," he replied, seriously but still with a tone of affection in his voice.

"I love you too much to let you waste your talents and potential like this."

Kate laughed.

"Of course you do," she replied, gesturing for her followers to step forward.

"It looks like I might need some help after all. But try to go easy on them," she advised her followers. "Most of them aren't trained fighters and their biggest crime is shortsightedness. Hardly worth our best or most painful efforts."

"Don't fight them," interrupted Milligan. "They don't need to fight this. Just you and me."

Kate eyed him suspiciously.

"You hurt your leg last month," she reminded him. "You're not in peak fighting condition. If this is some kind of trick-"

"It isn't," replied Milligan. "You and me. If you win, we'll let you keep your operation and leave the decision up to you. If I win, you end this."

Kate's face became thoughtful, carefully considering his offer.

"Uh Milligan," interjected Sticky. "I know that you're pretty well trained, but you were just injured, most doctors wouldn't recommend-"

"Deal," said Kate, charging forward without warning, as Milligan side stepped.

It was hard to tell who had the upper hand. Milligan was stronger and had a clear height advantage, but he was still recovering from his injury and Kate was faster, and more flexible.

They held nothing back, but still neither of them succeeded in doing much damage, mostly because the skill with which they dodged the other’s attacks was just as impressive as the fighting techniques they employed.

"Tired old man?" she asked.

"Oh believe me," said Milligan. "I haven't even started yet."

They fought for hours, until at last Kate found something else that gave her the upper hand.

Environmental knowledge.

One of the circus' tricks was a series of platforms that were triggered to fall when you stood on them for a certain amount of time. They sent the performers falling to either be caught by a fellow trapeze artist or (worst case scenario) fall into one of the safety nets.

It was simply a matter of cornering her father onto one of the platforms, and removing the bridge.

"The fall is too far, and we haven't put the net out," Kate reminded him.

"You lost. Surrender."

Milligan looked down for a moment, judging the distance, then he looked back up at his daughter.

"No," he replied.

Kate was confused.

"What do you mean no?" she asked.

"I mean no," Milligan replied. "The fight's not over until it's over. I don't surrender."

"I'm not putting the bridge back," Kate reminded him. "Whatever trick this is, I'm not falling for it. Don't be stupid."

Milligan stood firm.

So did Kate. They were both stubborn. Like father, like daughter.

The seconds ticked by.

"20 seconds," Kate reminded him.

"Milligan we'll find another way!" Sticky yelled. "Just surrender, it's not worth it."

"This is my daughter," Milligan replied. "She'll always be worth it."

Kate scoffed.

"15 seconds," she announced.

Milligan didn't respond.

Kate still waited. Her father was fast. He only needed a few seconds to make it back in time, and would no doubt run out the clock.

10 seconds.

9 seconds.

8 seconds.

Kate groaned. Of course he would play it like this.

She walked over to the bridges control panel and pressed the emergency stop button.

It wasn't working.

Kate felt as if her heart had stopped.

"It's not working," she whispered.

"Kate it's your dad!" yelled Reynie. "You won! You won okay? Just press the button, put the bridge back!"

"It's not working," she yelled, the panic rising in her voice.

4 seconds.

"DAD-" she yelled, turning to her father, the father she'd missed for so long, the father she loved, the father she didn't want to lose again.

2 seconds.

"I love you Katie-Cat."

0 seconds.

The platform dropped.

And so did Milligan.

And so did Kate, diving after her father, clinging to him tightly as if that could somehow save him.

The others surrounded them as soon as they landed.

Kate was mostly undamaged, Milligan had broken her fall.

But he wasn't moving, wasn't responding.

"Dad?" Kate whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Dad I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I-please don't go. Please. I can't lose you again."

Kate reached down and hugged her father.

"You won," she whispered. "You won okay? Just please come back. I love you."

At once, Kate felt her father sit up and wrap his arms around her, wrapping her in an embrace that even she could not escape from.

"Victory," he announced, looking down at his daughter.

"And I love you too Katie-Cat. I'm sorry for the dramatics. I assumed you'd be able to put the bridge back in time, but it's always nice to have a plan B."

"What-" said Kate, who was too relieved to see her father alive and well to be upset that she had been tricked.

"But, but the fall-"

"I've fallen before," Milligan reminded her. "From greater heights than this. You get better at falling the more you practice. Just uh...don't tell Mr. Benedict. Or Number Two. Or Rhonda...perhaps it would also be wise not to mention this to Miss. Perumal."

Kate sighed.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just got tired of your criticisms."

"We didn't mean to sound critical" said Reynie. "I'm sorry you felt that way. But you were never a liability. You're our friend, and we need you."

The others nodded.

Kate sighed again and smiled.

"I need you guys too," she admitted, as her friends joined in hugging her.

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

And now for Constance Contraire.

The Premise:

I picture her being pretty young in this, but not too young, teen years at the most. The story here is that Constance succeeds in destroying the Whisperer and saving the day.

But this time, it leaves her mind damaged, seriously damaged. So damaged that her powers become uncontrollable and scary. Some government researchers offer to help Constance, but Mr. Benedict, suspicious of their intentions, turns them away. Nicholas vows to protect Constance, insists that they will figure out what's wrong, that they will help her, but then one day Constance ends up hurting him on accident, basically incapacitating and nearly killing him. At this point, there isn't much left to do, accepting outside help is the only option. The others promise to visit Constance and make sure she's taken care of and happy until Mr. Benedict recovers.

They never get the chance. Something goes wrong, and the story is that Constance is on the loose and dangerous, causing out of control destruction and physical harm. The police and government agents try to bring her in several times, but all end up hospitalized from the encounter. The society seeks Constance out, and they eventually find her hideout.

The Scene:

"Why are you here?" demanded Constance.

"What do you mean "why are we here?"" asked Kate.

"We're here to bring you home Connie girl."

Constance scoffed.

"Connie Girl."

They always acted like this. Like she was still a tiny defenseless child. Even though she was now older than the others had been when she'd first met them, they still acted as if they were her older siblings.

Or at least, they did with their words. But their body language sent an entirely different message. They stayed on the other side of the room, not daring to approach her, not daring to put their arms around her like they would have done before.

"You're afraid of me," she observed.

"Constance, we care about you!" Reynie protested.

"That doesn't mean you're not afraid."

Reynie didn't answer. There wasn't much he could say.

They'd all seen what she could do. And Reynie had never been a good liar.

"We just want to talk to you."

"We're talking now," observed Constance.

"Not here," said Kate. "Not in some secret lair or hideout where you've hidden yourself away."

"Where then?"

"Home. Your home."

For a moment, they can see it. The longing in Constance's eyes.

Home.

She quickly puts that aside.

"Right," she responds. "Home. Where the government will no doubt be waiting to take me away again."

"What? No!" Sticky exclaimed. "Constance, we would never let that happen! Mr. Benedict would never let that happen!"

Mr. Benedict.

She disregards the name and the emotions that come with it.

"And yet, it's happened before," she replied.

"You even let them take me.”

Her friends hung their heads and looked away at the reminder of their guilt, the unbearable weight that they would forever carry with them.

“They told you what I did to them. But do you have any idea what they did to me?” asked Constance.

“What they put me through? The things they made me do?"

"We thought they could help you Constance," said Reynie. "You were scared and in pain, and they offered help, and we wanted to help you. We didn't know...if we had known-"

"You would have stopped them?" asked Constance. "How? By asking nicely? And would you really have let me stay with you? After knowing what I could do to you?"

"We would have figured it out," Reynie insisted. "We're a family."

Constance laughed.

"Family? Gosh Reynard, you always were so childishly sentimental. It's a terrible weakness of yours"

Sticky and Kate briefly glared at Constance on their friend's behalf, but Reynie could hear the pain behind his little sister's insult.

He took a small step forward.

"Constance please-"

"Get away!" Constance barked, a hint of panic in her voice as she took a step backward.

"You know what will happen. Don't be stupid. Just leave. It's what's best for everyone. I'm a monster now. I'm only going to hurt you. And deep down, you all know it."

"Constance?"

The voice came from behind her. Constance didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

The others were immediately horrified. They'd told him not to come; he'd promised not to come, for his own safety.

But they should have known better. Nicholas would not be kept from his daughter.

"Dad?" Constance whispered weakly, then silently chastised herself for having spoken aloud.

She refused to turn around.

Nicholas still hobbled towards her. Constance could feel his mind. Still split, shattered from what she'd done to him, but slowly healing. And his emotions towards her...pain, lots of emotional pain, but no anger. No, there was something else, something far more powerful.

Love.

The others warned Mr. Benedict back, but he ignored their warnings. He wouldn't be deterred. His daughter needed him.

He limped over and knelt down, as best he could for an injured man so that he could address his child.

"Constance," he whispered. "Look at me please."

Constance turned away and shook her head.

"Please," her father whispered.

"I-I can't," she responded, a tiny tear rolling down her cheek as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nicholas looked at her sadly, but affectionately, as if she was the most precious thing in the entire world.

And to him, she was.

"Oh...oh my dear Constance-"

"You should go," she ordered, pushing her father away.

"Go now. Or I'll hurt you again. I'll hurt them too," she threatened, but there was no malice behind her words. Only fear, fear that her threats might not be empty promises.

Nicholas ignored his daughter’s threats.

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

He could feel her emotions in his mind. His daughter's power, too great and uncontrollable for her tiny body, made so much worse and so much stronger by what she'd been subjected to. Her power radiated from her mind, seeping outward and infecting every mind it came in contact with.

Nicholas let it come. In fact, he embraced it fully. The pain didn't matter. If that was the price he had to pay to keep his child safe and let her know that she was loved and forgiven, then that was a price he would gladly pay.

"Oh Constance," he whispered, as the tiny girl collapsed into a puddle of tears. "There's nothing you could do that would stop me from loving you."

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

Now for Sticky Washington.

This is largely inspired by @sophieswundergarten's amazing fics and posts about Sticky and his anxiety. I can't possibly link all of them, so if you're not following her and reading her fics, that's your own personal problem, and I pity you.

Sadly, I didn't write a reunion scene between him and his aunt or the Washingtons for this, because I wanted it to kind of work for the book or show versions of the character, but please know that in the full version of the fic that exists only in my brain, Sticky does reconcile with his family.

The Premise:

Sticky is older in this, an adult, maybe 20s or 30s. The story is that even after the Whisperer, after Curtain, the nightmares, the anxiety, it still haunts him. He can't get over it, but at the same time, he doesn't want to burden his friends, he can't burden them.

So he distances himself. He doesn't want to, but the voice inside him tells him that this is for the best. He would only burden them; he would only weigh them down. The others aren't sure why he's doing this, but assume it's because he wants his space and they try to respect that.

The anxiety, the fear, the flashbacks, it all gets worse. Finally, Sticky can bear it no more. So he does the unthinkable.

He builds his own version of the Whisperer. Not to control people. Just to calm his anxiety. And maybe, as the show version of Sticky says "[...] put good thoughts into people's heads. Make them feel happy." Nothing intrusive, nothing exploitive, nothing selfish. Just things like advising people to wear a seatbelt when they drive, and use dangerous equipment properly, and basically anything else that's unsafe or would make Sticky nervous. After all, what's the harm in that? He's making the world safer. And it's not like his old friends would care enough to bother with him.

But that's where he's wrong. The society detects the machine's influence, and they know it's not Curtain. They don't want to believe that it's Sticky, even when the evidence points to him. But eventually, they have no choice but to accept the truth and confront him.

The Scene:

Sticky looked up at his visitors from behind his desk. His office was nice, not extravagant or expensive, that wasn't his style, but it was neat, clean, and organized. As for Sticky himself, he was hardly the boy he was when he'd first met his friends. He was older, taller, stronger. Handsome. Confident.

Reynie told himself that he had nothing to fear. Appearances might change, but underneath it all was his friend.

"Sticky-" he began, but Sticky cut him off.

"It's Mr. Washington now," he corrected in a professional tone, trying his best not to reveal how much he'd been hurting. "Though I suppose I could allow you to call me George, for old times sake."

"Okay Mr. George," said Constance. "Having fun playing supervillain?"

Sticky frowned.

"If you came here just to criticize me, then I'll have my secretary show you out. Better her than my security," he added, glancing at Kate, who had her hand on her bucket.

"That's not why we're here," said Reynie quickly.

"Oh?" said Sticky, raising an eyebrow.

"Your family misses you," clarified Reynie, hoping to appeal to his friends' sentimentality.

"Well they have no reason to miss me. I brought them some lovely property, send plenty of checks, and cover all their medical expenses, which is all they ever wanted me for anyway," said Sticky.

"Would you ever go to visit them?" asked Reynie. "I um...I don't want to get involved in your family's personal lives. But I think they might want more than money. I think they...I think they really miss you."

And then he sees it. A sense of longing, and a yearning in Sticky's eyes.

But it vanishes almost instantly.

"I'm a busy man," Sticky reminded his friends. "I have businesses to run."

"Honest businesses?" asked Kate suspiciously.

"Yes," said Sticky, glaring at her. "You might disagree with my personal hobbies, but I assure you, I make my money fairly."

"You call brainwashing the world a hobby? Really Mr. George?" asked Constance.

Sticky sighed.

"I'm fixing the world," he lectured them. "Crime is down, addiction is down, people's rates of anxiety and depression are down-"

"Including your own no doubt," muttered Constance, but Sticky ignored her.

"-and it's all thanks to me," he finished.

Reynie looked horrified. Kate looked disgusted.

"But you're doing it without their consent!" Reynie protested. "And you don't know what the side effects could be."

"And the way you're justifying it," said Kate, "you sound exactly like-"

And then she stopped, realizing that what she was about to say would have gone too far, way too far.

But it was too late. Sticky knew what she'd been implying, and his faced morphed from a look of uncomfortable and false politeness to sudden rage.

"Like who?" Sticky snapped, and his friends jumped at the sound of his voice. It was so much louder and deeper than it had been when he was a child. It was a man's voice now, but it wasn't just the maturity or the confidence of his voice, but the anger it possessed. The harshness that had been so absent from him as a child.

Constance was the first to recover.

"You know who "Mr. George,"" she answered, glaring at her former friend.

The other two glanced at each other. What Constance was saying was cruel, especially after all that man had put Sticky through, but it was also undeniably true.

"How dare you?" whispered Sticky, the anger rising in his voice.

"How dare you compare me to him? AFTER EVERYTHING HE DID TO ME!"

Sticky rose from his desk.

His friends had never seen him look so furious.

"Sticky-" began Reynie nervously.

The others took a step backward.

Sticky's self-consciousness and compassion suddenly returned to him when he saw the fear in their eyes.

That’s the thing about anger. If you are someone who is small, short, nervous, mild mannered, someone who is perceived as “weak”, then your anger, no matter how justified, is often belittled, patronized, or dismissed as "cute", unless you can find a way to be taken seriously, to yell louder, to make yourself more threatening. Of course, the other side of this is that if you are someone who is tall, strong, loud, powerful, and intimidating, then it doesn’t take much anger to make others afraid of you, even if that’s not your intention, unless you learn to moderate your emotions and remember how threatening you look from their perspective.

For most of this life, Sticky had been on one end of this spectrum, always needing to yell louder and be more insistent to make his voice heard. Now he found himself on the other side of the spectrum. But although his height, physical appearance, and position in the world had changed, the emotion felt the same to him as it always had, and he often forgot just how frighting he could seem.

Even to those who had once called him friend.

Sticky sighed and took a deep breath.

"I'm not like him," he insisted.

"I'm not giving myself fame, money, power, or anything like that. That's the difference. When I say I'm doing this to help people, to make them feel happy, I mean it."

He looked at his friends, glancing over their faces, trying one last effort to get them to understand.

"You know me," he reminded them. "You know I wouldn't do that. I'm not doing this for power. I'm doing this for peace."

There was silence for a few moments.

"We know," said Reynie.

"We know you are Sticky. And we know you've been hurting. We should have noticed earlier, and we should have offered to help sooner. I'm sorry. But whatever your intentions are, that doesn't make this right."

Sticky didn't reply. He knew that Reynie was right; he always was.

"What do I do?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding softer.

"Stop this," said Kate. "Turn yourself in. We'll help you, we'll- we'll get you the help you need. So you don't have to feel this way anymore."

Sticky was surprised.

His anxiety...his fears...he tried to act like it didn't bother him anymore. He didn't want to be a burden. He didn't want to drag his friends down with him.

And yet they were here, right next to him, not as adversaries, but as friends.

They didn't have to come. They didn't have to forgive him.

"You've needed help for a while," said Constance, her voice suddenly gentler and far more compassionate then even her friends were used to hearing from her.

"Haven't you George?"

Sticky didn't answer. He could feel Constance tentatively poking her way into his mind. But he didn't fight it. He sat back down and nodded silently, feeling weak and exposed, the reality of his pain revealed at last.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought I could deal with it on my own but I...I can't. I'm not- I'm not strong enough. That's why I needed to do this. I thought I could help not just me, but others, because the truth is I...I'm just not enough. I'm not strong enough."

His friends ran forward to hug him.

"You don't have to be dummy," said Constance.

"None of us are. That's why we have each other."

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

And finally, Reynie Muldoon.

Ngl, I went pretty dark for this one. He's the only one I actually gave a body count to (I know I'm sorry don't blame me blame the bees and I apologize if you think any of these are OOC I'm trying my best here. Also Reynie is older in this and there are darker themes mentioned so consider this your warning). This is based on @kaslynspeaks amazing post here and her awesome comments on my poll where she talks about the whole book conversation where Reynie can "only see snakes" so he lets himself be bitten and becomes a snake himself? Genius. 10/10. Set off the bees for sure, so thank you for that.

The Premise:

This one blends a lot of elements from the others. Like in Kate's situation, the society has won, they're fighting crime, but Reynie becomes disillusioned, though for different reasons. He's older than Kate was in her version, he's late 20s, 30s, maybe even pushing 40. It took a long time for him to get to this point.

You see, at first, Reynie is fighting for what he believes in: bringing bad guys to justice, keeping his friends on the straight and narrow, and doing what's right. But being a leader has a cost. He's always the one emotionally supporting the team, he gives more than he gets back, and that starts to take a toll. As he gets older, he encounters more bad guys, ones that make him sick to his stomach, but what's worse is the lack of people who seem to care. The politicians with empty promises, the corrupt police, the ordinary citizens who look the other way instead of helping. Nothing changes. There's always another crisis, another bad guy, another problem that needs the society, and the society needs him. So Reynie drains himself until at last he can give no more. Finally pushed to the brink by what he's seen and the sense of hopelessness and isolation he feels, he makes the decision.

He starts by cutting himself off from the society, at least professionally. They respect his decision, but are surprised by it. Once he's free of that obligation, Reynie tells his mother he's getting a new job and needs some space right now to figure himself out.

What he actually does is get involved in the criminal underworld. He tells no one of course, they'd never approve. But Reynie has learned that there is one thing that can control a snake: a bigger snake (or as the expression goes "there's always a bigger fish").

And his intelligence, knowledge of others, leadership skills, and experience with criminals quickly leads to Reynie becoming the boss of the criminal underworld (how did he do that so quickly? What is this "criminal underworld" I keep mentioning? Like. Is it a gang? The mafia? The ten men? Some random group of thieves? Idk, don't question it, just use your imagination).

Anyway, now that Reynie has control he determines what crimes happen, when they happen, and how many people get hurt. Which he views as damage control. He keeps his real occupation hidden from his mother, telling her he's involved in important government work, and it's better that she didn't ask questions. Eventually he completely cuts off ties with the rest of the society, knowing it's only a matter of time before they put together what he's done.

They do figure it out, eventually, and they're heartbroken of course. They can't believe it. Especially that Reynie, out of all of them, would ever do something so terrible. They want to confront him, but they can't find him.

Until one day they receive an anonymous coded message, tipping them off to his location.

Reynie's security team laughs when they tell them they're his friends. Their boss doesn't have any friends, and no one shows up to see him without an appointment unless they either have news that can't wait, or some kind of death wish. And he certainly never takes social calls.

Still, they let Reynie know about them. And of course he recognizes their description. Turning them away unharmed shows weakness, which his team would never accept from their leader, but Reynie doesn't want to harm his friends either.

Which gives him only one other option: to confront them. He has his security bring them to his office.

The Scene:

The men roughly shoved them into the room.

"These people came to see you boss. They said they were friends of yours."

Reynie looked up at his friends, who had just been pushed unceremoniously into his office.

"Thank you," he nodded, waving his hands to dismiss his security team.

Then he sighed.

"How did you find me?"

His friends didn't answer at first.

"That's what you want to know?" said Kate. "You're running the criminal underworld, and that's the first question you have for us? The route we used to get here?"

"Not the route. My location. How did you find me?" asked Reynie.

"Anonymous tip off. A coded message," said Constance. "Seems some of your men aren't as loyal as you thought."

Reynie looked disappointed, but shrugged.

"That's not all that uncommon in this line of work," he clarified. "Whoever it was will be dealt with accordingly. Snakes will be snakes"

"But since when are you one of them?" asked Kate.

Reynie sighed.

"I don't expect any of you to understand."

"You're right Reynie," said Sticky. "We don't understand. You were always the best of us. The one who reminded us who we were, what we stood for. How could you ever think something like this was right?"

"The best of us?" Reynie repeated disbelief.

"I was the average one, the one who wasn't special. I wasn't a genius, or a psychic, or some sort of super athlete. I was just me. I'm not special."

"So that's why you're doing this?" asked Constance. "To feel special?"

"No," said Reynie. "I'm doing this because it's inevitable. The cycle just repeats itself. We fight another bad guy, we almost fall apart, I hold us together, it takes everything out of me, I finally recover, and then we go around again. The only way to end the cycle is to become a part of it."

"Takes everything out of you?" repeated Sticky. "Reynie, we had no idea-"

"It's fine," dismissed Reynie. "Like I said, this is for the best."

"You really believe that?" asked Kate, shocked her friend could ever really think something like this was right. "You...your men...you're criminals! The worst criminals!"

"We are," agreed Reynie. "I won't deny that. But when you make yourself the king of the snakes, you decide how poisonous they are. These men follow me because they know I'm intelligent and powerful enough to let them get away with the crimes they want and have all the money and power they desire. That's a better deal than most other bosses could give them. But they also know that comes at a price, that certain things are off limits. If I hear any rumors of human trafficking or exploiting or harming children, well, then I'm sure to make an example of them. To remind them that I'm in control and that I have my standards."

"Make a example of them?" said Kate, her eyes widening.

"That...that doesn't mean what I think it means...right Reynie?" asked Sticky.

Reynie couldn't help but feel a little ashamed as he watched Constance, who had always looked up to him as her protector, her big brother, take a step away from him when she saw from his face that his words meant exactly what Sticky thought they meant.

But he didn't back down.

"They were human traffickers and people who abused children," Reynie said simply, trying his best to remain logical. "You can't say they didn't deserve it. If I wasn't running the criminal underworld, someone else would, someone who would be just as cruel, maybe worse, and would likely choose less deserving targets. It's no different than carrying out justice."

"And who made you the judge, jury and executioner?" asked Constance, crossing her arms.

"We're going to stop you," said Kate, raising her fists.

"Really?" said Reynie, his expression turning dark at his friend's declaration.

"I think you'll find that harder than you expect. You three might have been the talented ones, but I was the one who kept you together. I know you. I know how to build you up, and I know how to bring you down."

His friends looked horrified by the threat. Even worse, they looked hurt.

"I don't want it to come to that," Reynie clarified. "But it will if you stand against me. I don't want to hurt you, but trust me, I can. Worse than you can imagine. And I will. I know how it sounds, but believe me when I tell you that this is the only way."

The others were shocked by his words. Reynie cared for them; Reynie protected them.

How could he threaten them so easily? How could he have become so misguided?

Sticky thought a bit about what his friend had said, and tried one last time to reach him.

"We understand where you're coming from, really Reynie, we do," said Sticky. "But this isn't the way to do things. You're still hurting people in other ways, and I agree that people need to be brought to justice but this...this isn't the way to do it."

"We didn't know it was so hard for you," added Kate. "You were our leader Reynie. And you're right. You held us together, you kept us strong, and you were always there when we needed you. To remind us who we are. I'm sorry we didn't appreciate that more. But now it's our turn to be there for you. To remind you who you are."

Reynie didn't answer for a moment.

"And who do you think that is?"

"Our friend," said Kate.

"Some who is kind, gentle, intelligent, wonderful, and anything but average," added Sticky.

"Someone who knows deep down that this is wrong," said Constance, poking her way around the edges of Reynie's mind.

"Someone who's better than this."

Reynie couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You...you really think that?" he asked. "After everything I've done... you really think that's who I am?"

"We do," said Sticky.

"We all do," agreed Kate.

"I know it," said Constance, as Reynie felt her enter his mind, unearthing the guilt, shame, exhaustion, and pain that he'd kept buried for so long, as well as the love, compassion, and the values he'd put aside and tried to forget about.

They were still a part of him. An unused and forgotten part, but nevertheless, they were still there.

"Your friends are right Reynie."

Reynie turned to see his mother enter his office.

"Amma?" he asked in a small voice.

"But, but I don't understand- how...how did you-"

"For the leader of the criminal underworld, you have pretty bad security. They're easy enough to knock out with a few blow darts and they are much too unsuspecting of a simple old woman," his mother replied with a sad smile.

Reynie's heart dropped. She knew?

One look in her eyes told him everything. Of course she knew. She knew when he started staying out late and never telling her where he was going, when he came back with scars and a haunted look in his eyes that he couldn't explain, when he begged her for the millionth time to stop asking questions, when he moved her into a bigger fancier private house and had the property constantly surrounded by security guards because of a "promotion" that he refused to explain.

His mother was kind, but she certainly wasn't stupid.

And then Reynie realized.

"The coded message. You brought them here."

Dipika nodded.

"You needed them Reynie. You needed to be reminded of who you are."

Reynie hung his head.

"Amma-" he began, but his voice trailed off.

What could he say? What words could ever make it up to the woman who'd taken him in, who'd given everything to him? There was nothing he could say, not when she knew what he'd done, what he'd become.

"Oh Reynie," said Dipika, walking forward to hug her son, who trembled at the affection he knew he didn't deserve.

"I know," she whispered. "I know you're sorry. And I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I'm sorry I couldn't reach you. But it's not too late. I promise Reynie. It's never too late."

At last, Reynie broke down, returning his mother's embrace as the three people who refused to give up on him even when he'd given up on himself stepped forward to hug their friend.

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

I apologize for nothing, or maybe I will if enough people tell me this was disturbing and that they didn't like it, which honestly? Fair enough. Anyway, have a lovely evening! 🥰

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

So in Lycoris Radiata you’ve mention how all the divine warriors had religions dedicated to them so like ceremonies ? Sacrifices ? Or temples ? I mean we kind of witness one of the werewolf cubs being sacrificed to the destroyer. Also you’ve done a very excellent job so far on the details of the different religions.

Tysmm!!! I do try :)

TW/CW: more adult themes mentioned, cannibalism, orgies are referenced at the end, menstruation mention, purposeful burning of oneself or a loved one, fantasy racism, religion talk, specific references to Christianity, animal/human sacrifices, mass death.

if there's anything i missed, please let me know

Worship of individual divine has slowly dwindled over time, still present but not as prevalent. Most divine worship has The Matron as the head of the religion, and treats them as a pantheon as opposed to singular entities. If someone worships a divine, they typically worship The Matron most of all, with the other divine being situational worship. This doesn’t apply to everyone, there are those who worship specific divine, mostly travelling Merchants who worship The Wanderer or scholars that worship The Keeper. In the years prior to LR, it was especially hindered by the introduction of a very eager High Priest.

Worship of The Destroyer is not considered to be an aspect of Divine worship. He is separated from all celebration of the saints, by those who worship him and those who don’t.

they're in colour order because i did it by accident at first and just went 'Fuck it'.

I also didn't proofread after, so... if anything doesn't make sense, whoops.

The Admirer

The admirer is a lesser-worshipped divine, unless done in conjunction with his wife and lover, The Matron. He is often prayed to by star-crossed lovers, or those faced with unrequited affections, in hopes that his blessing would will the pair together. He's also a favourite of incels, due to a number of reasons. Gene's very fond.

His temples are often smaller, held in the gardens of the Matron’s own churches, and most often he is worshipped at hastily built shrines and the statues of him with his other half. His temples are usually white marble pavillions, decorated with red roses and candles.

The concept of worship of him varies from place to place, some areas believing that newlyweds should consummate their marriages upon his altars in order to ensure fertility, others believing that individuals must sacrifice to him their pain, to suffer for their love as he suffered for his own. A more common practice is the burning of a piece of paper with one's lover's (or attempted lover) name written on it, to send a message to the saints for what they desire.

Most newlyweds under the faith of the Matron will kneel upon small, sharp pebbles as their wedding is officiated, in an homage to the tales that The Matron and the Admirer eloped whilst kneeling in the ruins of Scaleswind in the midst of the War. The couple will often keep a bloodied stone and pass it along to their children, as a way for their descendants to boast the strength and longevity of their lineage. Those who keep multiple stones are thought of as overly ambitious, and is usually only done by those of noble or lordly lineage.

Much of his history as a warrior has been lost in favour of the ‘knight in shining armour’ stereotype as The Matron’s lover. Even the creation of the Jury is presented as a gift to The Matron, instead of what it truly was. Only one statue of him presented as a warrior remains in Brightport, beside a statue of The Protector, within the halls of their Guard Academy.

The Matron

The Matron’s worship is often done in churches and Cathedrals, very heavy handed with the comparisons to Christianity lmao. Her religion is the main religion, so all of her laws apply to everyone else, regardless of who they believe in, but most of all they apply under the roof of her churches. Crimes that are ignored elsewhere are punishable by death in the houses of the Matron. because she'd dramatic. Her largest cathedral is in O'Khasis, though many of her followers pilgrimage to the cathedral in Scaleswind, due to it containing the only statues of her that were carved during her life.

Her religion holds no sacrifices, for it is believed that you must sacrifice yourself to her, devote your entire being to her, and so on. Plus, animal/person worship is very... old god-worship coded for them so they avoid it. Or at least they do in larger churches and communities.

Ceremonies are pretty vague, they wanted worship of her to be very ‘accessible’ and so they tried to avoid anything specific, in case certain cultures were turned away from the religion due to it’s practices conflicting with tradition. Ceremonies worship the coming of spring, with bright colours and loud music, the first birth of the season with a community-wide festival and the ‘blessing’ of the newborn with a name ‘chosen by the Matron’. Major life events are worshipped with some kind of song and dance, and decorative garb, but death is strictly avoided. There are private blessings, that’s all. There is nothing to worship in death to them, though back in the ye old days, death was celebrated by her worshippers most of all.

One celebration that is kept by smaller communities but not by larger ones, due to how 'distasteful' it is, is celebrating a period. It's a remnant from older times, and whilst larger communities that worship the Matron looks upon periods as disturbing or a sign of an empty womb, in smaller communities it is viewed as a sign of health. Malnutrition can shorten or even entirely remove the presence of a period, so in communities where food is in short supply, for someone to be so well fed is a blessing. An individual's first period is often given a little ceremony, and a sacrifice is made to 'reunite the blood of the person with the blood of The Mother'. Maybe a little weird, but fuck you, religion is funky as fuck (/aff)

The Protector

The Protector is one of the most worshipped Divine, as he is the patron of the Guards (formerly joined by The Admirer). Statues of him are erected in most cities, and his symbol is worn by most guards and lords as a means of protection.

He has temples in most major cities, though they are less common in communities without heaps of expendable wealth, and they are often kept near rivers, lakes and oceans, due to multiple of his stories relating back to water one way or another.

As for sacrifices to him, they are most often items of protective value. Swords are thrown into the middle of lakes, armour tossed into oceans, shields left to drift down the lake, in hopes that each item would sink down to him, and show to him how little each item meant in comparison to the protection he could offer.

In some smaller communities, guards will smear blood over his altars after they successfully fended off bandits or raiders. Whether it is their own or that of the attacker, it depends. All bloodshed is thought to be a sacrifice for the Protector, if shed in the attempt to save oneself or another.

Obviously some ceremonies under the following of the protector involves coming of age (or, becoming old enough to be entrusted with the defence of your house), becoming a guard, and even your first scar. Scars are celebrated by those who worship the Protector, as it is thought that he himself weaves the scabs and scars over your injuries to keep you safe. That said, if you accidentally tear open a scar, or reagitate an injury, it's seen as a punishment from him for not being grateful enough for what help he had given.

Most of The Protector's ceremonies and celebrations are very low-key. He's not a particularly flashy guy (though his descendants very much are). Most of it includes submerging in water, or having running water spread over one's face/hands/injury. His followers also often wed whilst standing in shallow rivers and streams, so that he may be as much of their wedding as they are, and for this reason weddings also don't tend to be particularly fancy. Nothing worse than getting a super expensive dress all soggy.

The Keeper

The smart-man's saint, he who the scholars swear to when another does not quite grasp a subject quite as well as they should.

All libraries, places of study, academies or archives are his domain, and so it is only fitting that his temples are lined floor-to-ceiling with books and scrolls, and knowledge. The biggest one is far north, in the stretch between Ru'Aun and Yggdrasil, the field of the gods. It's a long-since abandoned area, but the temple stands proud and tall, a tower filled with every shred of knowledge from that time and all times before it. Scholars set out with the intent of finding it, and return broken men or not at all. The Field of the Gods was abandoned for a reason, after all.

keeping everything to Ru'aun, there's not much to say for Ru'auni Keeper ceremonies. There are obviously those which appoint scholars to their towers, but worship of the keeper is generalised to those places which can afford to care about knowledge. Smaller communities worship him little, knowing survival is more important than smarts, and so the only practices for him are the 'savoury' ones that the Church of The Matron support.

Anyone who claims to be truly devoted to him think of him less as a god to worship, and more of a model to follow. They ensure they say nothing but the truth, unless it is in the name of gaining knowledge, and they protect books and information with their very souls. That said, as many of these scholars are under the employ of the church, they will burn whichever books that Zane desires. The will of the Matron overpowers that of the Keeper.

The Wanderer

He is surprisingly well-followed. He is the patron of Travellers and Merchants, of orphans and the homeless. Anyone who finds themselves between places, or travelling for any period of time, they will have some form of worship for him.

He has no temples, temples are too permanent, but travellers will often erect small shrines for him along popular paths and cross-roads, so that, if in need of guidance, one of his followers may find him. Many will carve his symbols into trees to guide the way out of forests, or scribble his symbol onto their maps so that he may never let them get lost. Boats will have it painted on their masts, so that the wind may carry them where they are intended to go. Everywhere is a temple of the Wanderer, as long as it leads to someplace else.

Following the Wanderer is very much a... personal practice. Whatever gets you forward. And that's all he teaches, going forward, getting from a to b, and continuing on from there. Of course, there are generalised practices, but no set-in-stone ceremonies. Some sailors may consider drinking big and making a fool out of themselves to truly savour the success of a trip to be a ceremony to bless him, others may think that travelling in itself is all the ceremony he needs.

The most common practice is dedicating meals to him, when that meal is consumed in the midsts of a travel, or to continue one on forwards. The meal sustains their adventure, as their faith in him does, after all. However, some will go to uncomfortable lengths to ensure there is a meal to dedicate, fearing that their travels may end soon without his interference, one way or another.

The Fury

The Fury, whilst widely worshipped in Tu'La, is a saint with little following in Ru'Aun. The church of The Matron does not support the direct worship of her, due to O'Khasis' long and complicated history of beef with Tu'La, but there are those that worship her anyways.

Immigrants and refugees from Tu'La make up the bulk of her worshippers, and as thus most of her practices are Tu'Lan ones. There are no temples for her, but the statues of her with the other Divine, and the shrines that her few followers are able to put together. There are also some werewolf communities that follow her, due to many Meif'wa refugees being forced out of human cities out of fear that they're just like the werewolves, so they join their fellow misunderstood animal-esque brethren.

Those born into the faith often have to walk over hot coals/sand/etc until there is a visible burn on the soles of their feet, so that they might always be one with her, when they come of age (usually mid-to-late 20s, in Tu'Lan culture, though those in Ru'Auni communities usually bring this to about late teens/early 20s instead.). Those who convert into it often have it done during their conversion, though many like to differentiate between the born-into and the converted, so the burns are put on their hands instead.

There are many ceremonies lost due to it being a religion that relies on the word-of-mouth of refugees that aren't given many opportunities to learn Ru'Auni before they go to the continent, but those that remain are often fire-filled and beautiful. Tattoos are given to show the life events of an individual, scars are burned into their skin for their every holy deed, so they might show off to others just how much they do for their god.

They consider themselves merciful, though others don't. One of their ceremonies is a 'blessing' ceremony, where they tie all of their enemies and prisoners to an unlit pyre, and have their own most devoted soldier be set aflame and walk into it. They believe that she blesses people for a more holy realm after they pass through her flames. Obviously others just go 'ah shit gonna get burnd'

The Destroyer

The Destroyer, Judgement, The Ancient. He has as many names as he does different followers. His worshippers follow most closely to the worship of the old gods out of any Divine (Menphia is a close second), and whilst there may not be many compared to the Matron's followers, they are varied.

All of his temples in the overworld are long-since destroyed, every statue of him defaced or removed entirely from where they once stood. To the people, he never existed, but as a boogeyman to scare children with, but those with any semblance of power, or who live outside of the protective walls of the major cities and towns, know that he is present. always. The few temples he has are old churches of the Matron's, which were either abandoned or taken, and repurposed into a domain for the Destroyer. They hold no idols of him, but they do have an altar. Even if they need to make the altars out of broken tables, or the corpses of those they killed, there *will* be an altar.

Any death to brace Judgement's altars is a good one, whether it be of one of his own followers, a rabbit hunted for food, or even the corpse of something long-dead. Humans, especially those of power, are preferable however. considering, y'know. ommy nommy. They give him these deaths not to ask anything of him, but to give to him more power, so that he might rise again and become their one and true king. That is all they want, all they desire.

They hold celebrations for new births, for coming of age, for first kills and first scars. They worship death beyond what any other religion might, and they view the hunt as the natural intersection between life and death. How they celebrate varies, but it is always at night, to emulate the Abyss that their god is trapped within. They can be as small as gifting jewellery, or as big as huge cannibal-feast orgies. I would love to go into this religion more bc it's my most developed but this is a long ass post as is, i'm keeping this as short as i can lmao. i have other posts on stuff too so...

[shiningwonderland]

Ai Mikaze (All Star)

Translator: Momo (Twitter: peachandrabbit)

Proofreader: Nadie (Twitter: nmoniag), Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

Editors: Whitney (Twitter: whitormiss), Terry (Twitter: turtlemudge), Mae (Twitter: itoshikimaegirl)

Chapter Two — Amabile Humming

November has arrived.

After Mikaze-senpai finally accepted our partnership, I started helping him with his work as promised.

Under his guidance, I’ve been composing the four-part song.

I’ve also been working on the background music for the movie Mikaze-senpai is in. In other words, normal film music production work.

Lots of work, all at once.

I’ve filled my notebook with two people’s work schedules. My schedule is written in red ink, while Mikaze-senpai’s is in blue.

Haruka Nanami: I’m running out of blue ink so much more quickly…

There would be no end if I wrote the description for every single job, so I'm summarizing them.

Even so, the amount of work I have pales in comparison to Senpai’s workload.

Just this week alone, there will be filming of the movie first on the list, a variety show appearance, a magazine interview, a photography shoot, the production of his own music CD… et cetera.

This year, he began appearing in the media more often, too.

On top of that, he agreed to coach me…

For all his delicately-intelligent appearance, he has to be quite tough to handle such a packed schedule.

Haruka Nanami: He’ll work all day and then check over my compositions in the evening…

After checking today’s schedule one last time, I leave the house.

Ai Mikaze: I said you’re doing it wrong. How many times do I have to tell you? Use your head a little.

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m sorry!

Mikaze-senpai doesn’t pull his punches.

Today he’s looking over the four-part song I edited based on what he told me last time, but…

Apparently, I didn’t fix it quite the way he wants it. I hastily edit it right then and there, but, once again, it isn’t right…

Ai Mikaze: How can you be so bad at remembering things? Not enough memory in your hard drive? Or maybe your CPU isn’t powerful enough? Are you an 8-bit?

Haruka Nanami: 8-bit…?

Every so often, Mikaze-senpai will use unfamiliar words like that.

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm, don’t worry about it if you don’t get it. Explaining would waste too much time. Here, I’ll go over what you need to fix again.

Haruka Nanami: Um, let me write this down!

Ai Mikaze: Of course you should write it down! Sheesh, your composition skill isn’t bad, so how come you make flubs like these…?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Although Mikaze-senpai is as strict as the rumors said, his teaching method is also very thorough.

I do my absolute best to follow along with his detailed explanations.

While working on composing the song, we take the time to discuss our upcoming schedules.

Haruka Nanami: The filming at the ocean the other day was amazing! If I recall correctly, this weekend’s scene will also be on-site at the beach. I wonder if filming will be done at the ocean more often now?

Ai Mikaze: That’s right. It’s about a mermaid, after all. Other than the underwater scenes, which will be done in CG, I believe most of the scenes will be filmed on-site. Haaah, I’m not fond of the ocean, though.

Haruka Nanami: You don’t like it?

Ai Mikaze: The ocean breeze makes me feel all sticky.

Mikaze-senpai replies with a sigh.

Haruka Nanami: True, it messes up your hair and makes your skin feel rough. Is… that the only reason?

Ai Mikaze: Eh? Ummm… I don’t like the salty smell. And I just feel like… I don’t have any good memories of the ocean.

He “feels like” he doesn’t have any good memories? What a strange way to put it.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you got stung by a jellyfish when you were little or got swept away from the shore by the waves?

He hums as he thinks it over.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t have any particular memories of why, I just… I’m not fond of it. I don’t know why myself.

Haruka Nanami: I see. If you’re not fond of the ocean, why did you take the role of the mermaid?

Ai Mikaze: It was for work, so what else could I do? I’ll do anything if I’m ordered to.

He huffs and crosses his arms.

Here I’d thought him capable of anything, a model of perfection, but it turns out he isn’t fond of the ocean…

Haruka Nanami: Wow… What a surprise, I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t handle, Senpai.

Ai Mikaze: Well of course there is. I am technically a living being in human form. It’s not like I care about you finding out about this part about me.

For the first time, he looks a little embarrassed.

Ai Mikaze: I had a thought. Since we’ll be spending a lot of time together for a while, there are several things I have to inform you about. For example, regarding food—

As Mikaze-senpai is about to tell me something, the recording room door opens swiftly.

Reiji Kotobuki: Heya! You two having a good time working on the song!?

Haruka Nanami: Oh, Kotobuki-senpai!

Reiji Kotobuki: I just finished up work in the area and thought I’d stop in on my way home to see if I could help!

Kotobuki-senpai stands in the doorway with a huge smile.

Ai Mikaze: Reiji… If you’re here to tease us, then no thanks. We also don’t need your help to make this song.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aww c’mon, I’m part of the unit too, lemme have my say! Here ya go, I brought a gift~

Haruka Nanami: Wow, thank you so much for your kindness!

Inside the box that Kotobuki-senpai brought is a bunch of different-colored macarons.

Haruka Nanami: They’re so cute! Um, Mikaze-senpai! You should choose first!

I run up to Mikaze-senpai with the box in my hand.

He glances briefly at me and the box and then turns his head away.

Ai Mikaze: No thank you. I prefer not to intake food when I don’t have to. You have it instead.

Haruka Nanami: I… see?

Perhaps because he’s an idol he’s concerned about his weight?

Reiji Kotobuki: He’s always like this, Kouhai-chan. Don’t worry about him and help yourself! So, how’s it going?

Ai Mikaze: So-so. It’s not bad.

Reiji Kotobuki: My, oh my! Dearie, did you hear that?! Listen here, Ai-Ai calling it “not bad” translates to “pretty good!”

Haruka Nanami: Eh?! I thought for sure I did awful because he was so angry earlier…

Next to me, Mikaze-senpai puts a hand to his head as I gape at him.

Ai Mikaze: Geez… everything feels out of whack when you show up, Reiji.

After that exchange, Kotobuki-senpai joins us to give his input regarding the unit song.

Haruka Nanami: Thank you so much for your help when you’re so busy, both of you!

Once we’re done checking over the song, I stand up and bow to express my gratitude.

Mikaze-senpai is transferring over the song data onto his laptop.

Reiji Kotobuki: Before I forget, I’ve got a request for Ai-Ai here! You mind singing through Kouhai-chan’s song once?

Mikaze-senpai looks up from his laptop.

Ai Mikaze: You mean the unit song? Just me? Why? You could sing along with me, you know.

Kotobuki-senpai gives that question a moment’s thought.

Reiji Kotobuki: Uh, well, I kinda wanted to hear how it would sound first to get the feeling of it. You’re downright perfect at singing. I wanna follow your lead and all!

Ai Mikaze: The song isn’t complete yet… but I guess one time won’t hurt. You mind getting things ready?

Haruka Nanami: Alright! Um, do you need the sheet music?

Ai Mikaze: I remember it from looking at it earlier, so I don’t need it. I’ll sing. Can you start the music?

From the way Mikaze-senpai is drumming his fingers on the table, I can tell he wants me to hurry up.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! I’ll get right to it. Just a moment, please!

I scramble to get things ready and start the music.

Mikaze-senpai’s clear voice echoes in the small room.

Haruka Nanami: He really is amazing…

Perfect skill. An incredibly clear voice that resounds throughout the whole room.

This is a song that I wrote… That thought sends a flush of warmth through my chest.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aine…

Haruka Nanami: Huh?

The voice behind me brings me back to my senses.

When I turn around, I see Kotobuki-senpai staring intensely at Mikaze-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: Aine…

Kotobuki-senpai’s lips barely move.

Aine...? Why...? Why does that word seem to resonate in my head…?

Ai Mikaze: How’s that? … Hey, what’s that look for?

I become aware that the music has stopped.

Reiji Kotobuki: Eh—o-oh, sorry ‘bout that! … I was just thinking about an old acquaintance, that’s all.

Ai Mikaze: You’re the one who wanted me to sing, and here you are thinking about something else? You DID listen properly, right?

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep, I did, thanks. And thanks to that I’ve got the gist of it. Sorry for putting you up to it!

Ai Mikaze: All I did was sing, it’s no big deal. Anyway, I’m heading home now.

He reaches for his laptop.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ah—just a moment! Can I ask you something?

Kotobuki-senpai pops up from his chair to call out to Mikaze-senpai before he can leave the room.

Reiji Kotobuki: You don’t happen to have any siblings, do you, Ai-Ai? Like for instance, a much-older brother…?

Ai Mikaze: None. It’s always been just me.

Reiji Kotobuki: Huh, that so…

Ai Mikaze: There you have it. I’m heading out now, good work.

With those words, Mikaze-senpai disappears from the room.

After that, Kotobuki-senpai leaves as well, as bright as ever and acting as if nothing has happened.

I am curious about why Kotobuki-senpai seemed off towards the end of the song…

Was there something wrong with Mikaze-senpai’s singing?

Several days later, I receive a text from Senpai.

Haruka Nanami: “Tomorrow, if your schedule is open, I’d like your help,” it reads.

It is a simple text with just that request. Still, I have no reason to refuse.

The next day I go to Mikaze-senpai’s studio to help him with work.

Thanks to the map he sent me, I can locate it without trouble.

Haruka Nanami: It looks like it’s a fifteen-minute walk from here. Since it’s my first time visiting, maybe I should bring some kind of gift?

Since I have a little extra time, I decide to take a look around at the shops on the way there.

As I reach the main street, I stop in front of a sweets shop.

Haruka Nanami: Hmmm… Wouldn’t something sweet be best?

What should I get?

Select the phrase! 

芋ようかん   Sweet Potato Yokan (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It looks delicious, but it might be a little too plain.

A sign beside it reads in bold letters: “Great as a gift!”

Considering I am planning to buy this for a fifteen-year-old young boy whose tastes I don’t know, it is probably a little too mature as a snack.

Haruka Nanami: Okay, let’s try the shop next door.

特盛ジャンボシュークリーム   Special Jumbo Cream Puff (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s huge…

Whipped cream is swirled with custard cream in this fascinating double cream treat.

It is topped with large strawberries, making it very appealing to me, but…

Haruka Nanami: It’s probably too calorie-heavy.

Mikaze-senpai seems to be concerned about calorie consumption. Is there anything a little lower in calories?

I wander around a little, searching, until my eyes land on…

フルーツゼリー   Fruit gelatin (+0 Love)

My eyes land on a row of colorful fruit gelatin.

Haruka Nanami: Jelly of this sort is probably low in calories. This might make a good choice.

There is orange, pear, peach… I wonder what kinds of fruit Mikaze-senpai likes best.

While thinking to myself that I should have asked him before, I continue looking over the various jellies until my eyes lock on one in particular.

I pick up a jelly marketed as “marine jelly.”

Haruka Nanami: It’s so cute…!

Is it designed to look like the ocean?

Inside the cup, two different-colored jellies—aquamarine and a light emerald-green—are stacked on top of one another.

On the very top is a white mousse.

Several tiny shells and starfish made of sugar are nestled inside the jelly.

Haruka Nanami: I wonder if this looks a little childish?

Come to think of it, Mikaze-senpai said before that he wasn’t fond of the ocean, so this could help him become fonder of it, even just a little…

I purchase two cups of jelly and head for his studio.

Ai Mikaze: Once you’ve finished organizing that data, let me know. It needs to be sorted by song classification.

Haruka Nanami: A-alright!

As soon as I arrive at Mikaze-senpai’s studio, I am put to work.

My first task is to organize the music he has composed over the last three months. Most of it is just background music, but there is quite a lot of it.

That aside…

I take another look around Mikaze-senpai’s studio.

Although it’s his workplace, it seems almost too nice of a studio for one person.

The room itself is large and open. On the far side are two control rooms, including multiple recording booths.

There are shelves full of files, a corner for meetings, and a minibar.

There is even a tennis table, which I assume is for relaxation.

Mikaze-senpai is seated at the desk in the far corner of this room, which seems to be the main work area.

Sitting in his chair with his knees folded to his chest and arms around them, he types intently on his keyboard.

I wonder if Mikaze-senpai always works alone in this large room.

Haruka Nanami: Um, excuse me, Senpai?

Ai Mikaze: Hm? Are you done already?

His hands don’t stop typing as he replies.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, no, not yet. I was just wondering, do you not normally have an assistant to help you?

Ai Mikaze: I don’t. I always work alone. In fact, I’d say you’re the first. Whether you’re helpful or not is a different matter.

Haruka Nanami: Ack… I’ll do my best.

I return my focus to my own task and start working.

Haruka Nanami: This computer is amazing. I’ve never seen a screen like this, and its processing speed is so fast.

Mikaze-senpai has lent me this computer to work with. I’ve barely touched it, but I already have a feeling it is a very high-performance computer.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, that? That has the OS for a supercomputer I developed myself for my personal work. Let’s just say its processing speed is vastly higher than yours.

Haruka Nanami: What’s a… supercomputer?

Judging by the word "super", I imagine some really big system, like a bunch of computers connected together...

Mikaze-senpai spins his chair around.

Ai Mikaze: Your assumption is pretty close. Really, everything you’re thinking shows on your face…

Before I can ask how he knew what I was thinking, he’s already answered me.

Haruka Nanami: Am I really that easy to read? How embarrassing…

Ai Mikaze: Honesty isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the ability to negotiate is also important at work. You should work on that a bit too.

He returns his gaze to his computer monitor.

Haruka Nanami: Ack… okay.

Haruka Nanami: I’m finished, Mikaze-senpai. I sent the email just now.

Somehow I manage to finish one task and send an email.

Ai Mikaze: Right, on to the next one. This folder contains hit songs from the past fifty years. I need you to sort them by genre.

Before I say a word, a large file is sent to my computer.

Sort hit songs by genre?

Haruka Nanami: When you say by genre, do you mean like by rock or pop, for example?

Hmmm, but what kind of genres could there be?

I begin counting music genres on my fingers.

Haruka Nanami: Ah but… I wonder what I should do if there are songs that overlap two genres?

At my mumbled question to myself, Mikaze-senpai heaves a long sigh.

Ai Mikaze: Haaah… Why don’t you decide that for yourself? You’re not a machine, are you? That’s why I asked for your help here.

Haruka Nanami: Understood…

It seems he heard me.

Okay, I’d better start thinking about this so I can be of use.

With that in mind, I return my attention to the computer screen before me.

Several hours of working like this pass.

Haruka Nanami: My head… I’m getting a little dizzy…

I am at the limit of my ability to focus.

Unfamiliar work combined with the nerves from working alone with Mikaze-senpai has drained me.

Unable to take it much longer, I am almost ready to collapse onto the computer, when...

Ai Mikaze: Oh, it’s three o’clock. Well then, it’s break time.

Mikaze-senpai finally looks away from his computer monitor.

Haruka Nanami: Yes!

I’m saved…!

With a big sigh, I stretch against the back of my chair.

Haruka Nanami: Hm? You aren’t going to take a break, Mikaze-senpai?

When the sound of typing continues, I look over at Mikaze-senpai to see that he has yet to stop working and is still facing the computer.

Ai Mikaze: No, I’m not.

Haruka Nanami: Aren’t you tired?

Ai Mikaze: Nope.

Haruka Nanami: Your eyes don’t hurt—

Ai Mikaze: Not at all.

The only sound that resonates in the room is the clicking of his keyboard.

H-hmmm. Will he be okay?

I observe Mikaze-senpai as he continues to work.

Although I don’t know how much help I’ve been so far, I have to wonder how he handled work like this before I started helping.

What appears to be manuscripts and various documents are piled up on his desk.

But rather than being disorganized, everything is neat and angled precisely, as expected of him

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, are you making sure to get enough sleep? And what about food? It’s not good to push yourself too hard.

Ai Mikaze: I can go without sleep or eating just fine. If you’re free enough to worry about others, go back to work. Or help yourself to some coffee. It’s self-service.

He points to the coffee maker in the corner of the room.

Haruka Nanami: Alright…

He’s unapproachable.

I envy his superhuman capabilities, but I am still worried.

I watch him from behind as I prepare coffee for myself.

Once I’ve brewed some coffee from the barely-used coffee maker, I remember something.

Haruka Nanami: That’s right, I bought a treat earlier.

I raise my voice to call out to Mikaze-senpai from behind, who has continued working.

Haruka Nanami: Um, Senpai? I brought along a snack that I bought earlier…

Ai Mikaze: A snack? Are you mentioning that because it’s three o’clock? It’s alright, go ahead and eat it.

Haruka Nanami: That’s, um, that’s not what I meant. I wanted to share it with you. It’s jelly…

I set down the coffee and the marine jelly on the bistro table towards the center of the room.

Ai Mikaze: I already told you that I try not to have too much food intake.

Mikaze-senpai turns his head and his eyes fixate on what’s in my hands.

Ai Mikaze: ... Why’s it blue?

Haruka Nanami: Pardon?

Ai Mikaze: Jelly’s a food. What’s the purpose of coloring it an unnatural color for food?

At last, Mikaze-senpai stops working and turns his chair to face me.

Haruka Nanami: This is called marine jelly. It’s blue because it was designed to be reminiscent of the ocean.

Ai Mikaze: Huh… It certainly looks like it’s made of gelatin. Why are there several different layers?

I suppose now he’s asking about how it’s made?

Haruka Nanami: I’m guessing each layer was made separately and then stacked on top of one another. Oh, it’s probably supposed to look like the surface of the ocean down to the depths.

Mikaze-senpai accepts this with a nod and picks up one of the cups to peer at the gelatin from the side.

I pour a cup of coffee for him too.

Haruka Nanami: With those shells and starfish suspended in the jelly, it’s really cute, isn’t it?

Ai Mikaze: Cute… This is… cute? I didn’t realize shells and starfish could be considered “cute”…

Haruka Nanami: The other day you said you weren’t fond of the ocean, so I bought this in hopes it would help you like it even a little bit.

Ai Mikaze: I’m interested.

Mikaze-senpai stands up to approach at last and takes a seat at one of the bistro table chairs instead.

Haruka Nanami: Yay, that’s great! I’m sure this marine jelly’s delicious! It’s from a popular sweets shop. Here, I’ll get it ready.

As I open the jelly packaging and flip it onto a plate, Mikaze-senpai watches intently.

Once the jelly is placed, he cautiously pokes it with a coffee spoon.

Ai Mikaze: Hey, you try to eat it first.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—why?

Ai Mikaze: I want you to make sure that this food is safe.

As he says this, he scoops up a bite of jelly with his spoon.

Haruka Nanami: Y-you want me to test if it’s poisonous?!

Ai Mikaze: It doesn’t seem to be quite that dangerous, but it’s a type of jelly I’ve never seen before. So, just to be safe.

He extends the spoon towards me. The jelly jiggles from side to side.

Haruka Nanami: That’s… I bought it myself and I’m pretty sure it’s just normal jelly. There shouldn’t be a problem with eating it yourself, but…

Ai Mikaze: If that’s the case, then you should have no problem. Here you go, open your mouth.

Haruka Nanami: Um…

Upon meeting his eyes, I freeze up.

Ai Mikaze: Hurry up, I am telling you to open your mouth. Do you understand? It won’t go in if you don’t open your mouth.

He pokes the spoonful of jelly against my lips.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I have my own portion so I’m good! It’s fine!

Ai Mikaze: Nope, not good enough. The test is pointless if you don’t sample from my portion. Open up. I’ll feed it to you.

Haruka Nanami: Ngh… okay…

I hesitantly open my mouth.

With that leeway, Mikaze-senpai slips the spoonful of jelly he’s holding into my mouth.

Haruka Nanami: Hnn—mph…

Ai Mikaze: How is it? Does it taste good?

The mouthful of jelly is slightly tart and citrusy, like grapefruit and lemon.

The creamy mousse is sweet, softening the tanginess of the jelly.

Haruka Nanami: ... It’s delicious.

Mikaze-senpai withdraws his hand and nods several times.

Ai Mikaze: Good. Then I’ll have some too. Thanks for the gift.

After politely putting his hands together, he also begins to eat.

T-that surprised me…

He just wanted me to taste-test, but what he did reminds me of how couples feed each other food…

I take a sip of coffee while feeling my face turning red.

Mikaze-senpai continues eating his jelly as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Looking again, I notice he is carefully separating the jelly into each layer.

From those jelly chunks, he scoops out the shaped sugar pieces and sets them neatly aside.

Haruka Nanami: Aren’t you going to eat those?

I point out the sugar candies as I say this. It doesn’t look like he plans to eat them.

Ai Mikaze: Eh…? These are shells and starfish. I can’t eat them, can I?

He gapes at me in surprise.

Huh? He is… joking, right…?

Haruka Nanami: Um, these clams and starfish are actually made of sugar. They’re perfectly edible.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, I see. I thought they weren’t edible. Hmmm… You’re right. It’s sweet.

He picks up a starfish and pops it into his mouth.

… He can be surprisingly naive, it seems.

Mikaze-senpai, when he is eating jelly like this, actually appears to be acting his age for once.

He’d probably get mad if I said that aloud, but he really is acting younger than usual.

That is an expression completely different from the typical strict-and-scary Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Does it taste good?

This time, it’s my turn to ask that question.

Ai Mikaze: It’s… probably good… I think.

As he says this, Mikaze-senpai eyes the remaining chunks of the jelly on his plate and the shells and starfish candies he lined up on the table.

Although he’d added “probably”, it’s a better reaction than usual.

It seems that it was a good idea to buy that jelly after all.

I pick up my own spoon and begin eating my portion of jelly.

Ai Mikaze: This seems like something Natsuki would like.

Mikaze-senpai muses out loud.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, you’re right! Shinomiya-san is very fond of cute things, after all. And since it’s an unusual type of jelly, I imagine Syo-kun would enjoy it if he received it as well.

When I say this, Mikaze-senpai looks up from his jelly.

Ai Mikaze: That’s right, you graduated with those two. You must get along well with them.

Haruka Nanami: I do! Even when we were in school together, Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun were always helping me out when I needed it. Actually, I still receive lots of advice from them…

Come to think of it, they both said you were a great senpai to them.

Ai Mikaze: That’s kind of surprising. I was certain they weren’t fond of me... at least that’s what I thought.

Haruka Nanami: That’s not true! They say that your strictness is your way of showing your concern and that what you say is always precise!

Flustered, I refute him.

Ai Mikaze: They told you that? Heh, and here Syo was always putting up a fuss during the Master Course.

Mikaze-senpai wears a slightly wry smile as he recalls dealing with Syo-kun and Shinomiya-san during their Master Course.

Haruka Nanami: He did say he had a lot of complaints at that time.

It feels like the conversation about mutual acquaintances lightens the atmosphere.

Haruka Nanami: Um, Senpai! Is it alright if we talk for a little while longer as we eat?

I take the chance to propose this idea and learn more about him.

Ever since becoming partners, the only thing we’ve ever done is work, leaving no chance to talk and come to better understand one another.

There might not be a better chance to talk casually like this for a while.

At my words, Mikaze-senpai glances at the studio clock.

Ai Mikaze: ... Sure, as thanks for the snack. But only fifteen minutes.

Haruka Nanami: Oh…! Thank you! Um, then…

Select the phrase! 

家族のこと   Ask about his family (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Where is your actual home? Do you live with your parents?

He told Kotobuki-senpai that he had no siblings, so I wonder about what the rest of his family is like.

Mikaze-senpai’s family must surely be as beautiful as him...

Ai Mikaze: Home... I don’t live very far from where I was born, but there’s no one else in my family. Or rather, there wasn’t anyone else to begin with.

He answers without any particular emotion.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—oh, um, I’m very sorry! So you… don’t have any family at all.

That might have been an insensitive question I just asked.

Feeling guilty, I timidly look back up at him, only to see Mikaze-senpai casually spinning his spoon around.

Ai Mikaze: It’s no big deal. What I don’t have, I don’t have. I do have the professor as a guardian. Oh, and I guess Shining too. So there’s no problem there.

The professor…? That must be his guardian’s line of work.

Haruka Nanami: By “Shining” you’re referring to the company president, right?

Ai Mikaze: Right. Even without a family, I have no difficulties with my everyday needs.

With a nod, he takes another bite of jelly.

To be working like this from such a young age… he probably is going through a lot of hardship.

音楽のこと  Ask about his music (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How long have you been performing music?

True, his singing and music composition are downright perfect, but judging by his age he couldn’t have graduated from Saotome Academy.

Where could he have studied music?

Ai Mikaze: How long…? Hmmm. Since I was born, I suppose. After all, I was born to make music in the first place.

Haruka Nanami: Since you were... born? That would be awfully early…

And he even says he was born to make music.

Then again, come to think of it, one of my first memories is playing the piano.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I think I understand what you mean! I was also raised with music!

Ai Mikaze: You were too, huh? Then you might be able to understand me.

A very slight smile appears with his quiet murmur.

音楽のこと  Ask about his music (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How long have you been performing music?

True, his singing and music composition are downright perfect, but judging by his age he couldn’t have graduated from Saotome Academy.

Where could he have studied music?

Ai Mikaze: How long…? Hmmm. Since I was born, I suppose. After all, I was born to make music in the first place.

Haruka Nanami: Since you were... born? That would be awfully early…

And he even says he was born to make music.

Then again, come to think of it, one of my first memories is playing the piano.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I think I understand what you mean! I was also raised with music!

Ai Mikaze: You were too, huh? Then you might be able to understand me.

A very slight smile appears with his quiet murmur.

住まいのこと  Ask about his living situation (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: How is your living situation right now?

I’ve never seen him in the agency dorms at least, and now that the Master Course is finished, he isn’t living together with Shinomiya-san and Syo-kun either.

Ai Mikaze: My living situation...? You mean you want to know where I live?

Haruka Nanami: Yes. I was curious about where you’re currently living.

Ai Mikaze: “Where”...? Here. I live here. This is my home.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—HERE?! But isn’t this a work studio!?

“That’s right,” Mikaze-senpai replies with a nod.

The entire room is sparkling clean.

When I take another look around, I can’t even find any signs that anyone is actually living there.

There are a decent number of studios on the first floor of the building, but they’re mostly filled with music equipment.

Haruka Nanami: Um, where do you usually sleep?

Ai Mikaze: When I take a break, I just stay at my desk. For the rare times I need to completely power off, I lay on the sofa.

There is indeed a sofa where he points, but it doesn’t look long enough for Mikaze-senpai to sleep on, judging by his height.

Haruka Nanami: ... You aren’t uncomfortable sleeping there?

Ai Mikaze: Not at all. The room temperature doesn’t change, and I have all the machinery I need. It’s quite comfortable.

He tilts his head in confusion.

Is that the case?

I also tilt my head, unable to picture his normal living habits.

Ai Mikaze: Is that all you had to ask? Anything else? You still have plenty of time left.

I am not prepared for the question in return and briefly flounder for a response.

Haruka Nanami: Eh—!? Um, then… what are your dreams?

Whoops, it feels like I am conducting an interview for a magazine or something.

I feel like wincing at my own lack of variety with these questions.

For a brief moment, Mikaze-senpai considers the question, then opens his mouth to reply.

Ai Mikaze: A dream…? I don’t have one. I do have a goal and various things I want to work on, though. What about you? Do you have a dream?

Haruka Nanami: Me? My dream is…

Select the phrase! 

アイドルに曲を作ること  To write music for idols (+20 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I initially aspired to be in the entertainment industry because I wanted to write a song for a particular idol.

I think back to before I attended Saotome Academy when I answer.

I’d decided I wanted to write songs for the idol on TV I looked up to.

Thinking that, I’d enrolled at Saotome Academy.

Since then various things have happened and I ended up being unable to fulfill that dream, but…

Haruka Nanami: Right now, even if it’s not that person, I want to write songs that make idols sparkle and will entertain the audience.

I want to become a great composer. That’s my dream!

Ai Mikaze: Maybe it’s because your goal is different from mine, but I don’t really understand what you mean…

However, you looked really excited when you were talking about your dream just now. Is that what’s different, maybe?

デビューすること  To debut (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I’d say my dream is to debut with a song that I wrote...

Right now that’s my number one dream.

Helping out Mikaze-senpai and composing BGM tracks is fun and a great learning experience…

I want the audience to hear my music!

To that end, I need to work hard and have Mikaze-senpai acknowledge me, but…

Ai Mikaze: I see, so your dream is to debut. A wish that has a low chance of success, thus, a “dream.”

Haruka Nanami: Um… did you just say that I have little chance of succeeding…?

Ai Mikaze: I think I understand a little better now what a “dream” is.

Haruka Nanami: That’s… good to hear.

Ouch, that hurts a little.

事務所に残ること   To remain in the agency (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: It’s not exactly a dream, but my immediate concern is remaining at the agency…

I mumble this with uncertainty.

Ai Mikaze: That’s true. In your case, you’re prioritizing avoiding your problems over having dreams.

Ahh, he’s concluded that I don’t have any dreams...

After our talk about dreams, Mikaze-senpai spends some time thinking about something.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t quite get it. My goal is to produce a million sales hit, but that’s less a dream and more just a specific goal.

I don’t understand the feeling of aspiring to something so abstract.

To be honest, I can’t really understand “emotion” to begin with.

Haruka Nanami: You can’t… understand emotions?

Those words draw my attention.

Ai Mikaze: Nope. I’m sure I would grow in maturity if I were to understand them thoroughly.

Mikaze-senpai speaks with unusual nervousness.

Come to think of it, Shinomiya-san did say that Mikaze-senpai doesn’t have enough human expression.

When talking to him, I’ve noticed that he isn’t very expressive and seems downright flat.

The reason for that could be due to his lifestyle until now or how he was raised, or because of something I don’t know…

Haruka Nanami: But I think you’re already amazing. Your singing ability is incredible, and the music you compose is so good. I can learn a lot from it.

Senpai, I think you are perfect.

Ai Mikaze: I wonder about that. This time I was assigned a completely new, far more difficult project: acting.

It’s a big challenge.

Haruka Nanami: You’re talking about the movie filming, right?

“Right,” he replies with a nod.

Ai Mikaze: If I’m to act correctly for that movie, I need to understand romantic love. That’s something unknown to me, so it’s really tough.

He has to understand the feeling of romantic love?

Haruka Nanami: Umm, this might sound like a strange question, but…

I decide to put the question out there.

Haruka Nanami: … Does that mean you’ve never come to like someone or fallen in love before...?

Ai Mikaze: That’s right. I’ve never understood the feeling of loving or intimately caring about someone.

Haruka Nanami: I-I see…

In other words, Mikaze-senpai wants to effectively perform this new line of work and act in a movie, but since he doesn’t understand how it feels to be in love and to care about another person, he is a little troubled.

… I think I’m getting the idea.

After a period of silence, Mikaze-senpai glances at the clock.

Ai Mikaze: Question time is almost up. Do you mind if I ask one last question instead?

Haruka Nanami: Um, y-yes, go ahead!

Ai Mikaze: How would you describe the feeling of falling in love with someone?

At the sudden question, I am at a loss for words.

Haruka Nanami: I-I think that that question might be a little beyond me…

Ai Mikaze: I want to know more about that feeling. Will you teach me?

Despite my answer, he stares intently at me, expectant, and I search hurriedly for an answer.

Haruka Nanami: Love is…

Select the phrase! 

離れないこと  Not wanting to be apart (+10 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Not wanting to be apart. Wanting to always be together… I-it’s something

I don’t really understand yet either…

For example, I love music. Because of that, I want to always be able to make music. I hope to always be with music.

I think love is basically like that…?

Maybe because he isn’t satisfied with the response, Mikaze-senpai looks away in thought.

Ai Mikaze: What you’re saying is that choosing of your own volition to be with something is to “love" it?

He thinks it over to himself after saying this.

I am not sure if I properly conveyed things, but then again “love” is a difficult thing to explain.

大切に思うこと   Cherishing them (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: I think that “loving” someone means wanting to cherish them and considering them important.

Ai Mikaze: Important… for me, my fans are important, but is that “love?”

Haruka Nanami: Hmmm, I don’t think that’s the same… after all, you have a lot of fans.

If among those important people you had someone who you cherished above all others, I think that would be “love.”

At my answer, Mikaze-senpai tilts his head.

Ai Mikaze: Someone I’d cherish above everyone else… umm. I don’t understand after all.

ドキドキすること   Feeling your heart race (+0 Love)

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm… Do you feel your heart race being with me now, for example?

Haruka Nanami: Huh?!

That definitely makes my pulse jump, but that is out of surprise.

Ai Mikaze: You… do sort of get that feeling, don’t you?

He asks this emphatically, to make sure.

When I don’t answer right away, Mikaze-senpai backs away.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm. All living humans have a heartbeat, so it’s too imprecise as an evaluation standard.

Haruka Nanami: Well, um, you’re right about that…

Senpai doesn’t look like he’s kidding around, so I am at a loss for words.

Ai Mikaze: What’s the matter? You’re making an odd face. Why not drink some coffee and calm down?

Unlike me, who has gotten flustered, Mikaze-senpai speaks calmly.

Ai Mikaze: It’s a really tough topic. I think understanding “love” is an assignment that will take a while.

After speaking curtly, he elegantly scoops the remaining jelly on his plate into his mouth.

Ai Mikaze: I don’t really get “like” in the romantic sense, but… I think… I like this jelly.

Mikaze-senpai murmurs quietly.

I’ve been able to interact with him face-to-face and come to understand him a little for the first time.

At first he seems perfect, but now I could see that there are things he doesn’t understand and lacks.

Haruka Nanami: Um… I know I’m not good with words, and I don’t understand romantic love very well myself, so I can’t give a good explanation anytime soon, but…

I’ll help you however I can until you do understand! You can ask me for help with anything!

I say this with the desire to support him, even if it is just with this one thing.

Mikaze-senpai sets down his spoon and narrows his eyes.

Ai Mikaze: Haha, what’s with that all of a sudden? So weird. You’re also kind of a strange one, aren’t you? Though not as much as I am, of course.

Right, let’s get back to work. If you don’t pick up the pace, we’ll be working all night.

Haruka Nanami: Ah... that would be a problem! I want to sleep in my own bed tonight!

Ai Mikaze: In that case, better give it a push. You seem to be having trouble sorting that data, so let’s have you work on arranging this music instead.

Haruka Nanami: Ah! Right!

On the table sits Mikaze-senpai’s untouched coffee, as well as the plate that held the jelly he ate.

For some time after that, I continue to travel to his studio and work with Mikaze-senpai.

I converse with him a little during work breaks.

Mostly we talk about music, but his knowledge of music is astounding and I lose track of time chatting.

By and large, I am learning more than I am able to be of help. Still, I feel like I’ve made some progress as his partner.

Today’s schedule includes filming for the movie. We arrive at the filming location.

In truth, the scene that was supposed to be filmed was changed abruptly. We were suddenly given a new script this morning.

This means that the Mikaze-senpai, in the lead role, has a lot to relearn.

Haruka Nanami: Are you doing alright, Senpai?

Ai Mikaze: Quiet. This much should be fine if I read this through once.

Mikaze-senpai is in the middle of reading through his script at an incredible speed.

True, he does have an amazing memory, but will he really be alright…?

Reiji Kotobuki: Wanna read it aloud with me? That’ll make it easier to remember.

Ai Mikaze: No way. Now’s not the time to butt into other people’s business—are you sure you remember your own lines?

Come to think of it, Kotobuki-senpai had a lot of lines added to his script as well.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ngh… Not… yet. Gahh, so harsh! You broke ol’ Rei-chan’s heart…

Ai Mikaze: I’m not all that harsh. You’re just taking this too lightly. Buckle down already.

Mikaze-senpai lets out a sigh and returns his attention to his script.

Assistant Director: We’re starting rehearsal in a few minutes! Mikaze-san, please stand by!

Right as Mikaze-senpai finishes reading his script, the AD calls out.

Ai Mikaze: Yes, understood! … Here you go.

He closes his script and hands it to me, then heads for his place on set.

The filming begins.

Today they are filming the scene where the mermaid boy first comes to the girl’s home.

Mikaze-senpai has said that filming is a big challenge to overcome, but…

He runs through the garden of blooming flowers, turns the corner of the house, and meets the girl.

The moment he sees the girl, the look on his face is a mix of surprise and joy at being reunited with her again.

Ai Mikaze: There you are. Ever since that day, I’ve longed to see you again...

Mikaze-senpai smiles gently.

After that, he perfectly recites long lines of dialogue that he only just memorized from his script a few moments ago.

Haruka Nanami: Wow… Mikaze-senpai’s so talented. And he’s remembering his lines perfectly!

Reiji Kotobuki: Phew, that’s Ai-Ai for you. Looks like we’ll have this one wrapped up in one take.

Kotobuki-senpai, with his script in hand, murmurs to himself while watching Mikaze-senpai.

Talent A: Acting is what’s most important. Anyone can memorize and recite lines.

This particular actor is glaring at Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Umm…

If I remember correctly, he is a coactor. He is… kind of scary.

Kotobuki-senpai leans over to whisper in my ear.

Reiji Kotobuki: It’s tough to be popular~! Don’t worry about him, okay? You just focus on your partner’s acting.

Haruka Nanami: O-okay…

I nod several times.

The filming continues at an exceptionally smooth rate.

The final scene of the day involves the heroine.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll come see you again. Wait for me here.

This is where he is supposed to take the heroine’s hand, lean over, and kiss her forehead.

Except Mikaze-senpai very suddenly leans in close to her face.

Ai Mikaze: Hm...? Why’re you leaning away? Hold still—

When his co-star automatically pulls away, he firmly catches her arm and pulls her towards himself.

Ai Mikaze: Ngh?!

He pulls her too close and their foreheads collide with quite some force.

Both topple to the ground from the shock of their collision.

Ai Mikaze: Whoa, I-I’m sorry! Are you okay?!

Flustered, Mikaze-senpai quickly sets to helping his fellow actor up.

The director calls a swift cut and the staff rushes to check on them.

Talent A: How lame… the heck did he think he was doing?

Once again, I hear that voice from a corner of the studio.

After that, they attempt the scene over and over, but he can never get the timing—or pausing—just right.

Director: Hmmm, well, I guess since we did just redo that whole section of the script, it’s only to be expected…

Eventually the director waves his hand to the staff and actors.

Director: Let’s continue with this scene another day. We’ll move on to filming the scenes with Kotobuki-kun instead for now.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay, okaaaay~! I’m aaaaall ready!

Kotobuki-senpai’s bubbly voice lightens the atmosphere.

That day, on the way home, I stop by Mikaze-senpai's studio for a while.

Haruka Nanami: Is your forehead alright?

Ai Mikaze: Ugh... it’s fine.

He is sitting on the couch when he says this, a conflicted look on his face as he is lost in thought.

I assume he’s bothered by his acting difficulties today.

After today’s filming, he apologized to the rest of the cast and to the staff.

He didn’t say much on the way home.

He never is one to talk excessively, but this is enough to worry me.

I set my things down and take a seat beside him on the sofa. After a while, Mikaze-senpai glances at me.

Ai Mikaze: Hey, um. Why’d my co-star move away like that? Did I do something?

From the way he asks me this, it sounds like he is deeply confused.

So he is worried about that after all…

Haruka Nanami: Um, th-that’s because… you might have come on to her a little too strongly.

Ai Mikaze: Even though I acted exactly as the script said? Hahhh… I’m stumped. So how should I act?

Haruka Nanami: Since you need to be more romantic about it, maybe take it slowly and go through the motions step by step, one at a time.

Mikaze-senpai sinks back against the sofa, thinking hard about my reply.

Ai Mikaze: Take it slowly… If I do everything slowly it’ll take too long. What things should I focus on?

Haruka Nanami: How about how you…

Select the phrase! 

キスの仕方   Kiss her (+30 Love)

I get embarrassed and I can’t bring myself to say “kiss.”

Haruka Nanami: Um… At the very least I think it’s best that you, um, take the end very slowly.

Ai Mikaze: Take what slowly? Just say it.

Ack… It’s embarrassing to say, but I’ll say it to help Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: Right at the end you should… slowly bring your lips closer to her forehead… to kiss her.

Ai Mikaze: Got it. Do you mind if we practice that kiss scene right now?

Haruka Nanami: W-what?!

As soon as he finishes speaking, Mikaze-senpai turns to face me so that he has one knee on the sofa.

Haruka Nanami: J-just a—please hold on a moment, Senpai!

He is so much taller that he towers over me and I become overwhelmed and freeze.

Passionate about acting or not, this is a little…!

Ai Mikaze: Come on, hold still or I won’t be able to do this right. Hmm... So where should I put my hands?

He waves one hand as an example.

Haruka Nanami: You should probably… put your hand on my shoulder...

At my answer, he carefully sets his hand on my shoulder. The warmth from the contact makes my heart leap in my chest.

Ai Mikaze: Like this? Now I just have to follow up, but… in your case, your bangs are kind of in the way.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you should brush them to the side with your other hand.

Mikaze-senpai does as instructed and pushes my bangs out of the way, and then brings his lips closer to my forehead.

手の取り方   Take her hand (+0 Love)

Haruka Nanami: If you just grab her hand out of nowhere, I think she’d be really startled. That’s why, when you take her hand…

It is clear by how Mikaze-senpai’s brow furrows that he doesn’t quite get it yet.

Haruka Nanami: You should take her hand gently and try to keep your actions soft and steady.

Ai Mikaze: Gentle, soft and steady… Let me borrow your hand for a moment. You mean something… like this?

He carefully grasps my hand.

Haruka Nanami: That’s certainly gentle, but… hmm…

… Huh?

Haruka Nanami: It’s okay to let go now.

Mikaze-senpai stares me in the eye, not saying anything.

Perhaps he has gotten into his role.

Somewhat faster than I expected, he bends towards my forehead.

目の見つめ方   Look her in the eye (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: While you’re making eye contact, make sure to move slowly so the actress knows your next move.

Ai Mikaze: Eye contact... I see… Like this?

His beautiful eyes peer into mine.

Haruka Nanami: Eep… Somehow this is really nerve-wracking…

Being so close to him has my heart racing.

Ai Mikaze: You’re nervous? That can’t be good. It’ll make it hard for my partner to act.

The whole time our gazes are locked.

… It is making me tense.

Haruka Nanami: N-no, it’s fine. I’d actually say this is… the correct response in this situation, in fact it’s a good sign, but...

With my heart beating so fast, it is kind of hard to form the right words.

Ai Mikaze: If you say so, then I’ll believe you. Next is…

His face nears my forehead.

… At this rate... is he really going to kiss me?

Haruka Nanami: M-Mikaze-senpai! Stop! Let’s stop here for now!

Ai Mikaze: … Why?

Haruka Nanami: To refer to the sc-script! I don’t quite know the details yet!

Unless I know what will happen next, I can’t give you proper advice!

Ai Mikaze: Hmm... that’s true. Alright. It looks like you have a talent for giving advice on acting.

Haruka Nanami: D-do you think so?

Ai Mikaze: I understand the concept of descriptions like “gently” or “romantically,” but I don’t really know how those words translate into actions.

Haruka Nanami: I… see…

This might be what people mean when they say that understanding a maiden’s heart is difficult.

Ai Mikaze: I’m appointing you to be my acting advisor. I feel like you’re qualified for the role. Will you help me out?

Haruka Nanami: Help you out…?

I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever heard him say that.

It thrills me.

If there is any way I can assist him as a partner, then…

Haruka Nanami: I will! I’ll do whatever I can to support you!

“Good,” replies Mikaze-senpai with a nod.

After that, we rehearse the troublesome scene repeatedly.

It turns out that it isn’t the moment of the forehead kiss that is giving him trouble, but instead the actions leading up to it.

We end up practicing the scenes that come before and after as well.

The day of filming that scene arrives. We stand in a corner of the set, waiting.

Ai Mikaze: One last check. At this point I should tilt my head at this angle like… this, right?

Mikaze-senpai leans close to my face.

Haruka Nanami: Eek!

My heart rate jumps at being close enough to feel his breath, and I turn my face away.

Ai Mikaze: Should I take your surprise to mean I didn’t get it quite right yet?

Haruka Nanami: No, um, it’s not that that was wrong, I mean, that was actually really good, just, um, doing that in a place like this…!!

Ai Mikaze: This is rehearsal. Repetition is the most basic part of practice. One more time, now hold still.

His argument is perfectly sound, but that doesn’t change the fact that practicing something like this here of all places is a little…

Ai Mikaze: So I tilt my head like this… Next, place my hand on your shoulder. Finally I need to gently press my lips to your forehead…

Reiji Kotobuki: Let your love~ ♪ Ring far and wide~ ♪ Odorokimaaan~ ♪ … Oh, morniiin’! Eh, w-wai—whaa?!

Haruka Nanami: Hyaaaah?!

I leap away from Mikaze-senpai.

Kotobuki-senpai’s eyes are as big as saucers.

Haruka Nanami: U-um, this is—this is for Mikaze-senpai’s acting…!

Ai Mikaze: Nothing to be so surprised about. This is just a rehearsal, that’s all.

Mikaze-senpai cuts across my words with his straightforward statement.

Kotobuki-senpai nods awkwardly three times, and then gives an awkward cough.

Reiji Kotobuki: O-oh... r-right! All’s well then. That reminds me, Ai-Ai, you gonna be alright today? Think you can manage?

Ai Mikaze: Manage what?

Reiji Kotobuki: I was all set to offer you advice on your acting, but looks like you’ve already worked on it with Kouhai-chan here, huh?

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes. We were discussing the specifics again just now.

Reiji Kotobuki: That so? Good to hear. And lookin’ good too, sounds like you’re coming along well as partners.

Ai Mikaze: Coming along well… as partners?

Reiji Kotobuki: I’m talking about how you’re supporting each other like that. Well done, well done!

Next to the grinning Kotobuki-senpai, Mikaze-senpai seems to be thinking about something again.

Ai Mikaze: Supporting one another… a give-and-take relationship. In other words, there are merits to this partner relationship after all.

Haruka Nanami: Mikaze-senpai? The filming is about to begin…

Ai Mikaze: Right, I’ll get going. Will you watch everything carefully? I want to hear your thoughts about it afterwards.

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course!

With a nod to me, Mikaze-senpai heads onto the set with confidence.

The day’s filming ends without incident, with the problematic scene resolving successfully.

That scene with the forehead kiss is so romantic that I blush just watching.

Kotobuki-senpai, who comes over to watch, keeps mumbling that it’s embarrassing him.

It’s extra embarrassing for me when I think about how I helped rehearse this scene…

I’ve read the lines of this scene enough that I can quote them almost perfectly.

The director is pleased, saying it went well.

For a time, I’d been worried about how things would turn out, but for now we are in the clear.

While I am waiting for Mikaze-senpai after filming is over, Kotobuki-senpai walks over to me after he’s finished getting ready to go home.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, good work today!

“Hey, hey!” Kotobuki-senpai calls with a wave of his hand.

Reiji Kotobuki: Nah, I didn’t do much today. You’re the one who’s really had it tough, haven’t you? All worried about Ai-Ai like that.

Haruka Nanami: No, really, it was nothing! Besides, you were also concerned and trying to help Mikaze-senpai out, weren’t you?

Since this is the first movie Mikaze-senpai has been in, Kotobuki-senpai has been casually supporting Mikaze-senpai both during filming and off camera.

I hadn’t noticed he was doing that until recently.

Reiji Kotobuki: Haha, that’s about all I could do for him. I haven’t been in the entertainment industry this long for nothing!

That said, I’ve been thinking that Ai-Ai’s role is a pretty tough one.

Haruka Nanami: Is it really?

Mikaze-senpai’s role is the mermaid.

In order to reunite with the now-grown girl, the mermaid sacrifices his voice in exchange for a human form and goes to the human world.

That’s why, during the latter part of the movie, he has to act completely without speaking.

The emotions of the mermaid prince, the lead role, are complex.

However, Mikaze-senpai is still young, and this is the first time he has ever acted for a romantic role. It’s no wonder Kotobuki-senpai says this is tough.

Reiji Kotobuki: Back when I first got this job from Shiny-san, he shocked me by saying, “Mikaze is playing the lead for this movie.”

To be honest, I kept thinking, “Will he be alright?” Oh, uh, Ai-Ai’ll get mad if he hears that, so let’s keep this a secret, okay?

Haruka Nanami: But Mikaze-senpai’s very studious and is working very hard.

Reiji Kotobuki: Mmhmm, Ai-Ai’s a real hard worker. He’s been taking this job quite seriously.

But, you know… when I see him giving his all like that, I actually start to get worried.

Haruka Nanami: Worried? Why is that?

After a long moment of silence, Kotobuki-senpai opens his mouth again.

Reiji Kotobuki: A while back, I had an idol friend whom I was very close to.

The word ”had” catches my attention.

Reiji Kotobuki: He was an incredible singer and actor, a real genius in my opinion. But you see, he was much more sensitive than most people, and one day he had this really tough role…

And then he just up and vanished.

Kotobuki-senpai says it so off-handedly.

Haruka Nanami: He… vanished?

Reiji Kotobuki: That event was in the news, actually. Have you ever heard about it?

Haruka Nanami: No… I’m sorry, I didn’t know anything about anyone vanishing like that due to work.

Reiji Kotobuki: He would get totally sucked into his roles. In this case, he fretted over the role all on his own, and then, in the end, he just vanished into thin air.

Kotobuki-senpai stares at the ground as he says that, his expression a little pained.

Haruka Nanami: So something like that happened…

Reiji Kotobuki: Yep. To be honest, Ai-Ai acts just like him. In fact, even his appearance and singing voice are the same.

Haruka Nanami: Even his singing voice?

Reiji Kotobuki: That’s why when I first heard Ai-Ai sing I was in total shock. Like, “Whoa, he’s totally like him!”

And now we’re going to be singing in a unit together. Every time I look at Ai-Ai, I’m reminded of that friend of mine.

Haruka Nanami: Really? That’s… that’s just...

Reiji Kotobuki: No matter how similar they look, there’s too much of an age gap for them to be the same person.

So I thought maybe they might be brothers, but when I asked about it, that theory was thrown right out the window.

Haruka Nanami: Oh… you mean that time you asked that question out of the blue.

That day at the start of the month when Kotobuki-senpai asked Mikaze-senpai if he had any siblings, after hearing him sing the unit song.

Reiji Kotobuki: Well, it’s just a coincidental resemblance, that’s all.

Ai Mikaze: What is…? What are you talking about?

I jump and spin around. There stands Mikaze-senpai.

Haruka Nanami: M-Mikaze-senpai! You’re back!

Kotobuki-senpai’s usual smile appears on his face, and he waves a hand dismissively.

Reiji Kotobuki: Nothing important, just some small talk is all! Oh hey, you’re done filming for today, right? Want to go over our script together for the next scene?

Ai Mikaze: No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.

Mikaze-senpai responds just like always.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ahahaha, looks like I’ve been dumped! Alrighty then, see you next week~ I’ll leave the rest to your partner here.

Haruka Nanami: Eh, what?

Waving wildly, Kotobuki-senpai calls out, “Laterrrrr~!” as he heads off.

Ai Mikaze: It looks like you’ve been tasked with something, but what?

Haruka Nanami: That it does…

Ai Mikaze: If anything, I should be the one entrusting things to my partner. How weird.

Mikaze-senpai cocks his head.

When I get home that night, I set to work on the unit song once more.

Haruka Nanami: This month has just flown by, so it’s about time I got this song finished.

Kotobuki-senpai’s words come back to me as I work on the song.

After watching him from up close, I understand now that Mikaze-senpai is always serious, hardworking, and studious.

In return for his guidance, I need to work hard and support him as his partner.

Haruka Nanami: Perhaps I should gather up these documents…

I pick up the documents for the Christmas Live that Mikaze-senpai has collected.

There are a lot of them, but I can finish them up if I go through them steadily every day after work.

Of course, if Mikaze-senpai were to do it, he’d probably have them all done in a flash.

Haruka Nanami: This is just practice by repetition! Mikaze-senpai said so himself!

By using the method I learned from him, I finish sorting the documents.

It’s good that autumn nights are long.

In the evening, after a day’s work, I can quietly help with Mikaze-senpai’s work.

Several days later…

Haruka Nanami: Good work today…

Composition Mentor: Whoa, are you okay, Nanami-san?

I am suffering from lack of sleep and overwork.

Haruka Nanami: I’m fine. I can handle this much without a problem.

Three days ago, a sudden request for assistance came in, along with the need to redo another project.

Today I’m helping as the assistant for a composer that Tsukimiya-sensei introduced me to.

I also do this three days a week. This job is usually on days when I’m not helping out at Mikaze-senpai’s studio.

Composition Mentor: Anyway, in regards to the drama BGM I had you compose the other day, the length of it will need to be changed.

Also, we’ve decided to leave half the BGM composition for the movie to you.

Haruka Nanami: What, really!?

According to him, the test BGM that I composed went over well with the director, and this means my name will appear in the movie credits.

My name will appear in a movie that Mikaze-senpai stars in…

Haruka Nanami: Thank you very much!

I bow deeply.

On returning to my dorm room, I message Mikaze-senpai, who is probably still at work.

Haruka Nanami: I’ve been asked to compose some of the movie’s BGM. … There we go.

My Composition Mentor complimented me recently, telling me I’ve improved. That might be thanks to Mikaze-senpai’s instructions.

And I’m almost finished with the work I have right now.

As sleepy as I am, I feel fired up to give it my all for just a little longer.

Haruka Nanami: But… I feel a bit chilly...

I shiver from a sudden chill. Well, it is already November, so that shouldn’t come as a surprise.

I can just put on another layer to warm up and then continue working.

By the time I finish and submit everything, it is nearly dawn.

Haruka Nanami: I did it…

However, as soon as that thought crosses my mind, everything before me starts swaying and fades to white.

Hm…?

Am I… on my bed?

When I come to, I am lying on my bed.

When did I go to bed?

The moment I slowly lift my head, I hear a voice from right beside me.

Ai Mikaze: Oh, you’re awake.

Haruka Nanami: Huh!?

My eyes widen at the sight of Mikaze-senpai.

He is crouching next to my bed, resting his face on his hand with an elbow on the bed.

Ai Mikaze: Good morning. Then again, considering the time, I suppose good evening is more appropriate.

After standing, he touches my neck and peers at me closely.

Ai Mikaze: Hmm. Your complexion’s much better now. Pulse, breath rate, and level of consciousness are also normal, but your temperature seems high.

I think I get it now.

Haruka Nanami: Um, did I happen to pass out?

Ai Mikaze: That you did. You were lying on the floor when I got here. Extreme fatigue. Lack of sleep. Weakening immune system. Add it all together and you got hit with a fever. It looks like a cold.

Haruka Nanami: A cold… I see.

I feel feverish, and my throat hurts. I am also still wearing the same outfit I’d had on when I’d passed out.

As my thoughts clear, I realize something.

Haruka Nanami: Excuse me, Senpai, but how were you able to enter my room? I’m sure I locked the front door properly.

Ai Mikaze: I opened it myself.

Haruka Nanami: Huhhh!?

Ai Mikaze: I’m very dextrous, you know. It’s a simple matter to open a lock like that one.

He twirls his finger while making that off-handed reply.

Select the phrase! 

ダメじゃないですか！  You shouldn’t do that kind of thing! (+15 Love)

Haruka Nanami: Y-you shouldn’t do that! That’s unlawful entry—it’s socially inappropriate, you know!?

Ai Mikaze: But if I hadn’t come in, you’d have been left on the floor. That would’ve been a problem.

He lets out a sigh.

Haruka Nanami: W-well, that’s true, but…

Did you come here because you were worried about me?

よく開けられましたね   I’m impressed you unlocked it (+0 Love)

Ai Mikaze: That was the first time I’ve tried it myself, but it seems I can do it if I try. I wonder what I can use this skill for.

Haruka Nanami: Maybe you can demonstrate it on a variety show?

Wait, that’s not the point!

器用にも程があります   Dextrous or not… (+10 Love)

Ai Mikaze: Do you want to learn too? First, you press your finger to the keyhole... like this…

Mikaze-senpai raises both index fingers in a strange pose as he explains.

Haruka Nanami: No, I’m fine, thank you.

Just how many different skills does he know?

I ask while lifting my body from the bed.

Ai Mikaze: I came because no matter how many times I called, you didn’t answer. When I stopped by to check, all the lights in your room were on… Could you not cause so much trouble?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Ai Mikaze: It’s fine. In any case, you need to stay put until your fever goes down... and with that said—

Haruka Nanami: Senpai, what are you—eep!?

He sticks a cooling sheet to my forehead and pushes me back into bed.

Ai Mikaze: That should do it. Now if you just get some sleep you should recover on your own.

Grrrowl...

Haruka Nanami: … Ngh.

Of all the times for my stomach to growl.

Silence falls.

Ai Mikaze: “Dinner preparation” shall be added to the list for Project Caregiving. I’m going to borrow your kitchen.

Haruka Nanami: Eh, you are!? I can’t make you do that!

When I try to jump to my feet, he forcefully throws the blanket back over me and shoves me back into bed.

Ai Mikaze: This is a Mentor Order. Sleep!

Mikaze-senpai leaves the room.

Haruka Nanami: Is this… udon?

Two hours have passed since I was made to rest by the Mentor Order.

On being called downstairs to the living room, I find that the table has been neatly set with a small bowl and a single set of chopsticks, evenly spaced from one another.

Ai Mikaze: I have data that udon is suitable for proper care of a sick person. It’s easy to digest, as it’s made with water, salt, eggs, and white powder… that’s what I used, right there.

Haruka Nanami: Ah, flour. Wait, does that mean this is all handmade?

“That’s right,” Mikaze-senpai replies with a nod.

It is hard to believe that the beautiful, flat-sided udon noodles that float with the eggs in the broth are handmade.

Haruka Nanami: It’s so well done. This looks delicious…

Ai Mikaze: That’s enough staring, now eat up. This is the first time I’ve ever made udon, so I’m not sure if I did it right.

He also takes a seat.

Haruka Nanami: I think this is more than good enough. Thank you so much for this meal!

I pick up the chopsticks and lift an udon noodle to my mouth… and notice something.

Haruka Nanami: Semhai, d'you ha'en to cut th'noodles?

At my question, he tilts his head.

In fact, the noodles are really just one very long noodle, and no matter how much I slurp it up, I can’t see the end.

According to Mikaze-senpai, he had the data for the width of the noodles, but he didn’t know how long to make them. And so, this result.

Ai Mikaze: Well, it’s said that in cases like this you have to just suck it up in one go. Do your best.

I’m not sure whether to call him skillful or clumsy. This udon is very unusual, but it tastes delicious.

As I eat, Mikaze-senpai watches me with apparent interest.

Ai Mikaze: Just to be sure, it does taste good, right?

Haruka Nanami: Yes, of course. It’s delicious… and more importantly, it’s something you made for me.

Ai Mikaze: How is something that I made different from something I didn’t make?

Haruka Nanami: Well, your kindness in cooking this makes me happy, for one. It makes the udon taste even better.

Ai Mikaze: Kindness, huh… As long as it tastes good, I’ll consider it a success.

Mikaze-senpai rests his chin on both hands as he continues to watch me eat.

Haruka Nanami: Um, when you stare at me like that, it’s, um, it makes me kind of nervous…

Ai Mikaze: I want to know how you react, to make sure I’m doing a proper job of taking care of you. No need to be so stiff in your own home.

Haruka Nanami: That’s true, but still!

This might be the first time I’ve ever been so tense in my own home.

Ai Mikaze: My kindness, was it? If something like that can make you happy, then it might not be such a bad thing.

Haruka Nanami: That was delicious. Thank you very much.

Now that I have eaten well, I feel more energized than before.

Ai Mikaze: Well? What were you even doing that resulted in you lying unconscious on the floor?

He points to the spot on the floor in front of my laptop.

Haruka Nanami: Uhh… I finished all my own work yesterday. There was also the retake which I also somehow managed to do...

Ai Mikaze: Listen here, you’re not as strong as I am, so you can’t overwork yourself.

I took a look at the documents you finished, and… those were originally mine, weren’t they?

Haruka Nanami: You looked at it!? But it wasn’t finished yet!

Ai Mikaze: That’s for sure. Even the parts you finished were crudely done. If you have the time to do work that you’re not responsible for, spend that time taking care of yourself.

Oh shoot, I made him mad…

Ai Mikaze: First and foremost, the thing you should be focusing on is the unit song. You’ve been making progress, right? May I hear it?

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes! Of course!

I hurry to prepare the music.

SONG: "QUARTET NIGHT" (S Rank)

Ai Mikaze: I’d give this about 80 points.

Haruka Nanami: Then, umm… you consider 50 points as a full score, then I got 160%...?

Ai Mikaze: Uh, no, this time it was out of 100 points. You can’t exceed 100% here.

In other words…

Haruka Nanami: I got a high score?

Mikaze-senpai scribbles a flower mark on my sheet music sitting in front of my laptop.

Ai Mikaze: This isn’t half bad, but… let’s see, how about doing some research on what’s popular in music right now and adding that?

For example, you could change the timbre of the synth drums and make it sound a little more sparkly, like this...

When Mikaze-senpai makes the change he’d suggested, the music immediately begins to sound brighter.

Ai Mikaze: The piece needs to sound like something you would write, but it’s also important to analyze data and properly incorporate good technique into your compositions to create a good piece.

Haruka Nanami: That’s very good advice…

Is this the result of his daily research and analysis?

Ai Mikaze: This much is only natural. Alright, I’m going to go clean up.

While I sit there, amazed, Mikaze-senpai stands up from his seat next to me.

Haruka Nanami: Um, I’ll take care of the clean-up. Please sit down again…

As soon as I say that, he sets his hand on my head and holds me in place.

Ai Mikaze: When you’re that shaky on your feet? Absolutely not. I’m not giving you permission.

Haruka Nanami: Alright… I’ll leave it to you.

With a silent nod, Mikaze-senpai heads for the kitchen.

I totter back to the sofa. Truthfully I am still a little shaky from the fever.

Shortly after, I hear the kitchen faucet being turned on.

I can’t just let myself be taken care of like this; I need to hurry up and get over this cold.

Ai Mikaze: Hmmm, hm-hmm, hmm-hm-hmmm, hmmm~

… A song?

I can hear a light melody coming from the kitchen.

It seems like even Mikaze-senpai hums. Curious, I find myself listening closely to the playful tone.

Ai Mikaze: Huh? The dish soap isn’t coming out...

The song stops abruptly.

Now that I think about it, I am almost out of dish soap.

I quickly stand up and stride to the kitchen.

Haruka Nanami: Excuse me, there’s another bottle of dish soap under the sink—!?

As I speak, my feet get tangled up, and I lose my balance.

Ai Mikaze: Wha—whoa!?

When Mikaze-senpai hurriedly tries to support me, he also loses his balance, and we go down hard.

After a moment, I realize I’ve landed on top of him.

Ai Mikaze: … Nnnn…

And what’s more…

My lips are pressed directly to his.

Haruka Nanami: ...!?

I jerk back.

Spices and kitchenware are scattered around, and right before me is Mikaze-senpai.

Ai Mikaze: … Hahh… what are you doing? This is exactly why I said I didn’t need any help…

Haruka Nanami: I-I’m so sorry! … Um, here—!

In a panic I reach under the sink and pull out a bottle of dish soap.

Haruka Nanami: Here’s the dish soap.

Ai Mikaze: Now isn’t the time to be worrying about the dish soap.

We stare at one another without moving.

Eventually Mikaze-senpai places his hand on my cheek, and then lightly bumps his forehead to mine.

Ai Mikaze: Did your fever go up again?

He speaks while our foreheads are still touching.

After that, Mikaze-senpai hands me cold medicine and applies another cooling sheet to my forehead.

Neither of us bring up that kiss...

Instead we chat for a while about work-related things.

The sudden home visit comes to an end at last, and Mikaze-senpai prepares to leave.

Ai Mikaze: I’ll be going now. Take care.

Haruka Nanami: Oh, no, don’t worry about me. Please take care on your way home.

I escort him to the front of the dorms and Senpai bows to me graciously.

He is being very proper, but it must have been quite a sight to see in the middle of the street.

Ai Mikaze: At this rate you’re going to make all that caregiving go to waste. Hurry up and return to your room.

Haruka Nanami: But after all you did for me, I absolutely have to see you off.

Reiji Kotobuki: Huh…? What’re you two doing in a place like this?

As we banter, I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

Haruka Nanami: Hm?

When I turn around, I see Kotobuki-senpai staring at us from across the road.

Ai Mikaze: Reiji? What about you, what’re you doing here, on the roadside?

Reiji Kotobuki: Oh, I popped by Otoyan’s place to hang out for a bit and now I’m headed home. Kouhai-chan, what happened to your forehead?

Haruka Nanami: Ah! The cooling sheet!

I totally forgot I had it on. It seems I headed out without taking it off.

Ai Mikaze: Really, what do you think you’re doing…? Is your head not working right from the fever?

Haruka Nanami: I’m sorry…

Observing our interaction, Kotobuki-senpai chuckles and nods his head in some silent affirmation.

Reiji Kotobuki: Ohoho, I see~ Would this happen to actually be a date, but you’re just saying you’re taking care of her?

Haruka Nanami: H-huh!?

My face burns up, as if my cold has come back in full force.

Reiji Kotobuki: Naughty, naughty~ Romance is forbidden for idols, you know~?

Mikaze-senpai’s eyes narrow and his face scrunches up.

He steps in front of me and faces down Kotobuki-senpai.

Ai Mikaze: It was nothing. Sure, we kissed—but it wasn’t a date—she was just feeling sick so I made her some udon and took care of her for a while! Got it?

Reiji Kotobuki: Ohhh, I see, you were taking care of her while she was sick! Udon, aha, I see, that’s delici—eh? EHHH!? K-kissed!?

Mikaze-senpai speaks so fast that it seems Kotobuki-senpai has trouble keeping up, and ends up in a panic.

Haruka Nanami: M… Mikaze-senpai…!?

Everything he said is the truth, but he dropped a major bombshell in there!

Ai Mikaze: Everything we did was completely normal behavior for partners. So it’s nothing, nothing happened, nothing’s wrong!

His words are intense, and as he speaks, Mikaze-senpai takes another step forward right up to Kotobuki-senpai.

Reiji Kotobuki: O-okay, I got it, I understand, so just calm down! I’ll hear you out! Yep, let's do that, please go ahead!

Kotobuki-senpai concedes to Mikaze-senpai with no hesitation.

Ai Mikaze: You’re going to keep it a secret that you met us here. That is all. Problem solved.

Reiji Kotobuki: Okay. Got it.

Mikaze-senpai nods once, satisfied.

Ai Mikaze: Good. Well then, good night. I’ll see you some other time.

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes, you as well.

He spins on his heel and strides off.

Haruka Nanami: Umm… Kotobuki-senpai...?

Reiji Kotobuki: Hahaha, it’s alllll good! I’m famous for my tight lips! They don’t call me Rei-chan the Clam for nothing!

Haruka Nanami: I, uh, I see.

I get a feeling that there is a misunderstanding somewhere.

Reiji Kotobuki: But seriously, that was a real surprise. Details aside, that Ai-Ai was actually taking care of you, huh?

For some reason he looks happy.

Reiji Kotobuki: Far as I can tell, you’re the first he’s done that for. Anyhoo! I’m off now. And, umm. Take care!

He heads off down the sidewalk again, waving his hand as he walks.

Haruka Nanami: The first person… he’s done that for?

For some reason, hearing that makes my heart race uncontrollably.

The next day, I get a text.

Haruka Nanami: Hm, it’s from Mikaze-senpai.

Maybe it’s a message about the schedule?

Good work. This is Mikaze.

Sleep is essential for recovery from a cold.

If there’s anything you need, make sure to contact me right away.

That’s all. I look forward to working with you in the future.

Haruka Nanami: It looks like he really is worried about me.

The message is short and to the point, but this is the first personal text I’ve ever gotten from him.

My chest grows warm.

Chapter End

[alwaysthegeorges]

Desperate - Ginny Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary - you’re desperate for Ginny, but she’s on her period.

Warnings - smut (grinding/thigh riding, degradation kink, praise kink, use of toys, clit slapping, teasing), language, not proofread (written on phone so autocorrect might’ve messed up something)

Word Count - 1.5k

a/n - i didn’t think i’d like writing ginny so much but i did so some ginny fluff might be on the way

!gif not mine!

When you came to Ginny’s room that night, you had one thing on your mind and one thing only.

Throughout the day, you couldn’t get the picture of her perfect lips or beautiful hands out of your mind. You just wanted to see her, touch her. You had no classes together, so during dinner, you asked if you could come to her room that night. She, of course, agrees, missing you as much as you miss her.

You walked with a purpose to her room. The scenes of you two together that had played in your mind all day were back, making you more desperate for her. The scenes of Ginny kissing down your neck slowly and whispering things in your ear were the ones that affected you the most.

You hastily walked into her empty dorm room. She was sitting on her bed, reading what seemed to be a very interesting novel. Sadly, her concentration would have to be broken, but you were sure she wouldn’t mind. Ginny was always good to you, and she never seemed to be bothered by your presence.

You climbed on her bed and crawled over to her until your head was hovering slightly above where she held her book. Her eyes flickered from the page to yours, immediately sensing the mood you were in, so she was quick to discard her book onto the nighttable. She rested her hands on your cheeks and you wasted no time in attaching your lips to hers. She pulled you closer by your face, so you moved forward and straddled her lap. You kissed her and kissed her until she was out of breath. You gave her a moment to breathe and started kissing down her face and neck, pausing occasionally to leave small marks on her skin. Ginny moaned into your hair as you continued your conquest down her neck and body. Just as you began kissing her stomach and tugging the elastic of her shorts back slightly, she stopped you. She grabbed your wrist lightly. You looked up and into her eyes, wanting to make sure everything was okay.

“Wait,” she said in an almost whisper.

Ginny pulled your wrist up and the rest of your body came with it, allowing you to be face to face with her.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “Did I do something that made you uncomfortable?”

“No no, you’re wonderful. I’m just- we can’t, I’m on my period.”

You let you a sigh of relief, placing your lips lightly onto hers. She melted right back into you and allowed your lips to move perfectly in time. After a bit, she pulled back again.

“Do you think we could just cuddle?” Ginny asked sweetly.

You smiled at her, taking in the adorableness that was her inquisitive face.

“Of course, my love. Anything you want.”

The two of you moved so your arms were wrapped around her torso, her still being slightly sat up. You rested your head on her stomach and tangled your legs with hers. Ginny wove her hands through your hair softly as she continued her book.

You, however, were still painfully aware of the burning in between your legs. It definitely didn’t help that one of Ginny’s legs was pressed perfectly against where you needed it to be. Just sitting there was torture, having to hear her soft, content sighs as she read. She barely knew the surface of what kind of effect she had on you when you were in this state. Your arms squeezed her a little tighter, bringing her closer to you. This, however, caused her leg to move just slightly. The friction it caused between your legs was too much, and you accidentally let a small moan slip from your lips. Ginny thankfully didn’t seem to notice, as she was zoned in on her book. The memory of the pleasure from that small little movement made the aching between your legs worsen. It was almost unbearable. Then, you had a thought. Maybe if she didn’t notice the sound that came from your mouth, she wouldn’t notice just a bit more movement. Your mind was clouded with desperation, so you didn’t notice that Ginny had paused from reading her book to look at you. Just as she did, you slowly started moving your hips against her leg. The action brought a bit of relief to you, and a smirk to Ginny’s face. She let you go on with this for a few minutes, watching you get closer and closer to the relief you had been desiring. Then, she finally spoke.

“A little desperate, now aren’t we, baby?” Ginny said in a patronizing tone.

You froze at the sound of her voice, not wanting to look at her. Alas, you did, raising your eyes to meet hers. She had a sly smile on her face.

“I- I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“If you were that needy you could’ve just said so, darling. Come on, come here,” she said patting her lap.

You moved so you were sitting on her lap again, thighs on either side of one of Ginny’s. She traced a finger down your body and to your clit, rubbing over the sensitive area slowly. All the while, she kept eye contact, silently daring you to look away. You didn’t. You let out a small yelp when her finger moved slowly on the fabric above your clit, which only egged her on more. With the sly smirk still pressed on her face, Ginny led you out of your bottoms until you had only your panties on. Instead of pressing lightly on your clit again, however, she gave it a harsh smack. This earned a yelp in pain, which turned to pleasure very quickly.

“That was for being a bad girl. Look at you, all worked up and whiny for me. Such a bad little slut.”

Another smack. In response, you rolled your hips forward. Ginny quickly moved her hands to your waist, gripping it so tight you knew there would be bruises later. Her grip didn’t allow movement for your hips.

“You don’t move until I say you can, slut. Mind your manners.”

You have a small nod, letting her know you understood, and she let go. Your hands gripped her shoulders tightly as she began teasing you with her fingers. Her pointer and middle finger stuck together, tracing from your navel downwards. Just as she’d be so close to your clit, her fingers would move around and avoid it. Whines spilled from you like curses. Ginny knew you were secretly enjoying the teasing, and she knew this was exactly how to bring you to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“How long have you been needy, baby? Hm?”

“A-ahhh, all day.”

“All day, hm? The thought of my fingers touching your pretty skin had you worked up for that long?”

You nodded. Another slap to your clit.

“Speak, slut,” she commanded.

“Y-yes ma’am. Been horny for you a- ah- all day.”

“Hmph. Maybe you’d like a little more touching then. Does that sound good, baby?”

“Yes please.”

After a few more seconds of teasing, Ginny finally lead her fingers to your clothed clit. She traced it lightly, circling it and tracing small patterns. You found yourself a moaning mess as her fingers worked over you. After not even a minute, however, she had pulled them away again, leaving you breathless and aching. You tried to protest, but she shushed you before you were able to get a word out. Slowly, you watched her reach into her nightstand and pull out a small, oval-shaped toy. Ginny took the toy and placed it in your panties, right over your clit. You groaned as she turned it in the lowest setting. Throwing your head back, you let out small whimpers and moans as the vibrator worked its magic. Ginny noticed your hips trying to move, so she placed her hands on them again. However, instead of stopping your movements, she pressed you down on her thigh harder and began moving your hips for you.

“Go ahead, baby. Grind on me. Get to the edge. That’s it, such a good doll for me.”

You moved your hips against Ginny’s thigh, begging to get rougher and rougher as you got closer to your climax. You tried to sputter out that you were close, but Ginny could tell already. She reached and turned the vibrator onto the highest setting. With this, your loud cries began, almost turning into screams. Ginny watched as you fell apart above her, watching as your nose scrunched and your eyes closed tightly. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you came. It lasted quite a few moments and was stronger than any other orgasm you’ve had. You slowly came down, kissing the side of Ginny’s face as she whispered praises in your ear and removed the toy from your clit.

You got cleaned up and came back to bed, snuggling up to Ginny once more. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and kissed your head as you settled into her. In a few moments, you noticed her clenching her thighs together. You looked up at her curiously.

“Look what you’ve done baby. Made me horny with no way to fix it, all because you were desperate.”

~masterlist~

https://alwaysthegeorges.tumblr.com/post/655946118423773184/alwaysthegeorges-masterlist 

[merakiaes]

Captain Jealous - William Lennox

Pairing: William Lennox x reader

Requested: By @neemonroe​

Prompts: #20, #41, #42 from the smut-list. 

Warnings/notes: Takes place before Transformers. Not proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes. Might be a little bit OOC but I still hope you’ll enjoy it. Please reblog and comment, it would make my day <3 

Wordcount: 3806

Summary: Flirting with Will only seems to result in annoyance, but when you finally turn your attention elsewhere, he’s not very pleased. 

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that, when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”. 

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To most, you were one of the strongest and most admirable women they’d ever gotten the pleasure of meeting, but to others… well, let’s just say that you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

You were absolutely relentless when you put your mind to something and one of the many people who had fallen victim to that stubbornness was William Lennox.

Having enrolled in the army around the same time and being equally as good at what you did both back in training and in the field, the two of you had always respected each other and rather than being competitive, tried your best to lift each other up.

If one of you took control of a situation and started shouting out orders, the other didn’t question it, not even when Will eventually passed you in ranks. Because your minds worked in the exact same ways and so it didn’t really matter who gave the orders since the orders would be the same in the end, anyway, no matter whose lips they passed.

But you did differ in the way that Will much preferred to keep his personal life separated from his professional life, while you had a habit of letting them merge together, which inevitably resulted in you bringing the obvious attraction you felt for him with you out on the field.

Will was one of the people who thought you had taken your mother’s advice a bit too literally. That was what he told you on a daily basis as a response to your endless flirting, at least. But you knew better; you knew that he, at least to some extent, reciprocated your attractions, thanks to the few moments you had shared back in training.

“It was all fun and games back then”. He liked to say in that stern, military voice he had picked up the second he was promoted to Captain. “But this is the real deal. This is serious, and this, this thing you’re doing, is unprofessional.”

Ever the workaholic soldier, he was, at this point basically having dedicated his entire life to the job with no time to spare for fun. But no matter how hard he tried denying it, you knew that the two of you shared something, and so did every other member of your squad.

The only ones who seemed completely clueless to this were the newbies and as you gradually lost hope that your stubborn captain would ever admit and give in to his feelings, you found it to be a breath of fresh air to be able to spend time with people who weren’t constantly making suggestive remarks and fueling the attraction from your side.

One, in particular, caught your eye; tall, dark and handsome. He had yet to gain more muscle than the bare minimum and was, admittedly, kind of lanky. He was one year younger than you which was way too young seeing as you’d otherwise not even go for guys the same age as you, but he had banter and shared your flirty, dirty, cheeky sense of humor which, most definitely, made up for what he lacked in life-experience.

Will had smugly watched all of the newbies try to make a move on you only to be shot down quicker than your enemies, but then the last of the soldiers had swept up by your side, put a long, lean arm over your shoulders, and hit you with the cheesiest pick-up line he had ever heard. 

“How you doing, mama? You must be a parking ticket, ‘cuz you got fiiine written all over you.”

While Epps, Fig and the rest of the team broke out into laughter at the man’s poor technique, Will’s face transformed from smug to stone-cold murderer. 

Why? Because he knew that you didn’t want a man to tell you the stars reflected in your eyes or that you took their breath away with your beauty.

What you wanted was someone who could make you laugh, and when you threw your head back and joined in on the seemingly endless laughing fit, he was overtaken by a feeling so strong that he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

And you noticed the change of demeanor immediately. The long, hard stares were only the tip of the iceberg, as was the way he would move closer to you and find a way to touch you as much as he possibly could without making it inappropriate or suspicious. 

The most extreme part of his change in behavior was how hard and strict he suddenly became with the rookie, who had quickly earned himself the reputation of your very own lapdog. 

He got scolded even for the most insignificant of mistakes, always got put on parade as the “example” in exercises in which he was usually thrown to the ground by Will himself and totally and completely humiliated.

Of course, those moments were just poor thinking on Will’s part seeing as you, besides being incredibly flirty and witty, also happened to be one of the most caring members of the team. 

Not only did he have to watch you laugh until your stomach hurt at the rookie’s bad jokes, but he also had to watch you comfort and reassure him after his one-on-one’s with the Captain.

And still, Will couldn’t stop himself from making the same mistake again and again, the consequences every time being that he was stuck watching you fuss over the younger soldier, because no matter how much it vexed him, he knew that you knew why he was acting the way he was. 

It was all a game to you and he played along because he wanted to keep showing you that he was the better option. Unluckily for the rookie, though, Will’s method of showing dominance was through physical contact.

You knew what Will was doing, how he was trying to punish the rookie, mildly and legally, of course, while simultaneously trying to show you that he was displeased with what was going on; that he wanted it to stop.

To a start, you only showed interest in the rookie to fuck with Will, but you quickly realized that he was actually a fun guy to hang around.

You enjoyed spending time with him. Not a second with him went without laughter and it was nice to be able to have fun like that for a change, and soon enough, you’d more or less forgotten about the silent war between the two of you.

You probably knew that it wasn’t a real interest, judging by the way you didn’t even care enough to remember his name, but it was fun to have another banter-buddy.

You’d had an identical friendship with Epps since the start, but two people could only keep the creativity up for so long; after a while, you just couldn’t come up with witty remarks and sarcastic jokes, anymore.

Up until then, Will had still kept his disapproval about the whole thing lowkey, because as long as you were only doing what you were doing to make him jealous, you were still interested. 

But when you started making moves on the rookie with genuine interest, without looking over at Will while doing it, it was no longer a game. 

While already on the topic of games, you were completely useless when it came to cards. It didn’t matter what game you played; you’d always end up as the loser. And although you enjoyed the banter that followed the teasing of your poor card-playing abilities, your patience wasn’t endless.

“Alright, I’m calling it.” You chuckled after losing the fifth game of the evening, dropping your thick deck of cards onto the table in front of you.

“Really? But it was going so good for you.” Epps wasted no time in firing back with feign-surprise, to which all you did was deliver a sharp slap to his head.

The table broke out into laughter. “You had that coming.” Fig shook his head, successfully starting a metaphorical war. 

You chuckled at their antics and pushed back your chair, getting to your feet and stretching your arms above your head.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You said, and wasted no time in starting to collect your things.

The rookie’s attention was instantly piqued, and so was Will’s, who had been playing in silence nearly the entire time you’d been there.

“You know, I need to shower, too.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk. “So, I should probably join you. You know, save water. Provide some extra heat.”

“Oh, yeah?” You raised a playful eyebrow and chuckled. “Tempting offer, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on that. Glad to know I have options, though. Maybe next time.”

Without waiting for his reply, you snatched your jacket from a nearby stool and playfully flicked his forehead, before turning around and walking away, completely oblivious of the pairs of eyes that kept watching you from the table you had just left.

You went about your shower routine like you always did; get undressed, wash hair, wash body, turn off the water in-between washes, get dried and get dressed again. Sharing the water with so many people could be hard, so you couldn’t really take the long, thoughtful showers you did when at home.

You were out again as quickly as you had gotten in and took your time getting lotioned and dressed, getting as much self-care into your night as you possibly could when at a military base.

“What are you doing with the new kid?”

You should’ve been significantly more aware of your surroundings as a soldier but in your defense, everyone dropped their guard to some extent when in a safe environment, so the scream that came out of your mouth at the sudden sound of a voice was completely justified.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore as you jumped around, hastily reaching for your damp towel to cover your bare chest.

Coming face to face with a furious-looking Will, you glared. “Knock much?”

He didn’t look amused in the slightest, crossing his arms over his chest. “Knock, knock. Answer my question.”

Your mouth snapped shut at the dominance behind his voice and your eyes instinctively flickered to his biceps, veins and muscle more defined than ever in the way he had positioned his arms.

You were, however, proud to say that you were quick to come back to your senses, your eyes snapping back to meet his.

“Do you, maybe, oh, I don’t know, want to turn around?” You asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

If you wanted him to turn around to gain privacy for yourself or simply because you couldn’t stop glancing at his bulging biceps, you didn’t know, but no matter the reason behind your wish, he didn’t move an inch.

“Answer the question.” Was all that he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“Do you like him?” His questions kept shooting out as quickly as bullets and, again, you couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes.

“He’s fun to be around.” You said simply, giving him a slightly annoyed glare before turning around and dropping the towel to continue getting dressed.

Will didn’t even try to cover the fact that he was checking you out, eyes shamelessly traveling your form and taking his sweet time to remember all the details his eyes could reach. 

It wasn’t like this was the first time one of you saw the other only partly clothed – you know, it was kind of inevitable for all of you to catch a glimpse of each other’s birthday suits once every blue moon - so once the shock of his sudden appearance had melted off, the nervousness followed.

“But do you like-like him?”

At the sound of that question in particular, you couldn’t help but snort.

“What is this? Third grade?” You threw him an amused look over your shoulder. “Say that I do like-like him, do you think I should ask Epps if he can give him a note asking him to check yes or no on whether or not he’d like to be my boyfriend?” You gave him a sarcastic pout.

At this point, Will was completely fed up with your inability to take anything seriously and spun you around by your arm. 

Luckily, you had just finished hooking your bra behind your back, said bra thankfully covering your chest from his view.

“Can you not make a joke about everything?” He asked, your wrist firmly held in his hand. “You have to realize how bad this looks to our superiors. First me, and now him. You can’t go around flirting with everyone. It makes you look unprofessional and uncommitted and that, in turn, makes it look like I can’t do my job.”  

“Is that really what’s got your big-soldier-boy panties in a twist, though?” You narrowed your eyes challengingly, and slowly fought your wrist out of his grip to, instead, grab a hold of his hand.

Further proving your point, he did nothing to protest, the glare remaining in his eyes, but the rest of his face being overtaken by exasperation.

“I just don’t get it.” He said. “You spend all this time pushing my buttons, being completely insufferable with your never-ending flirting, and now you’re suddenly interested in someone else?”

“I think the real question here is why you’re suddenly interested when I’ve spent so much time trying to get your attention to no avail and now, what? You suddenly want me because I might be interested in someone else?” You raised an eyebrow, and couldn’t deny the flash of heat going through your body when he lowly growled.

“I’ve never not wanted you.” He objected. “And you’re not interested in the rookie.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“So what you’re saying is, basically, that you can’t be with me, but I also can’t be interested in anyone else.”

“We both know that relationships in this work are highly frowned upon and-“

“Highly frowned upon, but not forbidden. You’ve still had the option to choose, and you actively chose not to act on it. Just making that clear.”

“I haven’t acted on it because it’s wrong.”

“If it’s so wrong…” You started, a sharp shiver going down your spine as your bare back hit the cold, wet tiles. “Then why did you just corner me in the shower?”

During that short minute of back-and-forth arguing, he had done just that, the two of you now standing chest against chest in the darkest corner of the room.

Your face was pulled into a determined glare, as was his, and the tension and intensity behind your shared stare was enough to have all of the previously discussed issues forgotten in less than a microsecond.  

The proximity between you in combination with the fact that you were at an obvious disadvantage in height and size made you feel both hot and cold at the same time. You felt like prey under his stare. You found yourself liking it all the while you were hating the feeling of being so powerless, and your inner conflict only added to the tension.

“You have no idea how much willpower it’s taken me to keep resisting you, to keep turning you down.” He spoke slowly, and lowly. “Each of my thoughts about you are improper and you put all of those thoughts into my head every day, pulling my strings, pushing my buttons, just walking around being… you.”

In one smooth motion, he intertwined his fingers with yours, and your eyes automatically flickered down to watch your now joined-together digits; rough and calloused meeting even rougher and more calloused.

“I like you. I care about you. More than I should.” He continued, prompting you to look back up with an eyebrow raised.

“And?” 

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, exasperated and impatient. “Do you want me to say that I want to be with you? Because I do. I. Want. To. Be. With. You.”

You snickered at his over-dramatic emphasizing, finding it nothing short of amusing that he’d been protesting and telling you how wrong it was only seconds before, and now he was more or less proclaiming his love for you. That, more than anything, just showed how stubborn he was.

“Took you long enough.” You mused, leaning your head back into the wall and smirking, all while looking him straight in the eye. “It’s just too bad that I’ve grown so fond of the rookie. You know, he’s quite-“

Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by Will’s lips crashing into yours, roughly and urgently. In the process, you were pushed even further into the wall behind you, and as the sudden force threw you off balance, you instinctively reacted by moving your arms up to his neck to hold yourself in place.

In return, his hands moved to each side of your waist, big, warm hands squeezing down on the flesh that had long ago turned cold from being bare in the nippy air for so long.

You had always imagined what it would feel like to be touched by him like this, but not even your wildest imagination could compare to the intensity of the tingles that spread through your stomach and chest.

Your hands slowly sneaked up the back of his neck, your body reacting automatically, but just as you were about to tousle your fingers in his hair, the moment ended when he pulled away.

Both of you were left panting in silence, the only sounds available for your ears to hear being your ragged breaths and the rhythmic dripping of the shower beside you.

“Wow, Captain.” You were the first one to speak. “I knew you were hot for me, but try to keep it in your pants. That was hardly professional.”

Just like that, your sarcastic persona returned as if it had never left in the first place, your eyes opening after having been closed up until then and meeting his with a playful grin.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I’m pretty sure you threw professional straight out the window the first time we met.” He pointed out and much to your dismay, stepped back. “Are you going to stop encouraging the rookie, now?”

Getting straight to the point, okay.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged casually, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect your nails and peeking up at him through your lashes with a devilish smirk. “Jealousy looks kinda good on you.”

“I’m not jealous!” He exclaimed quickly, and you immediately raised an eyebrow as a way to say ‘really?’

“I’m not jealous.” He repeated, this time in a lower, calmer tone. “It’s just, you’re mine.”

Those two words alone were enough to make you inwardly groan, like one would when eating that first scoop of ice cream after not having been able to eat any in a week. Or a day.

But in a brave attempt to not make a fool of yourself, you remained in your teasing element, raising your eyebrows and hitting him back with a feign-uncaring: “Is that so?”

To that, he stepped closer to you once again, brought his hands up to cradle your cheeks, and playfully glared.

“Stop flirting with the rookie.” He repeated.

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“I’m asking politely.” He lied.

“Hmmm….” You hummed, pretending to think only for a moment, before flashing him a shit-eating grin. “No. I’m having way too much fun watching you squirm.”

Still leaning against the wall, you carefully pushed yourself up, pushed your chest against his and watched in success as his eyes flickered down.

Taking your sweet time, you brought your hands up to his chest with agonizingly slow movements and leaned your head up to his.

His breath shook as you brushed your lips over his and whispered against them lowly. 

“You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Will pushed his head forward with obvious intentions, but before he could press his lips against yours, you slid out of the tight corner, resulting in him having to catch himself on the wall left behind.

With a proud smile, you walked over to the bench by which you had previously been working on getting dressed and snatched your shirt where it laid.

“You’ll drive me crazy before all this is over, you know that?” Will spoke from behind you, which only made your smile widen.

Quickly pulling on your shirt and collecting the rest of your things, you turned around and walked back up to him where he still stood in the shower.

“That’s always been the plan.” You replied simply, placing a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before once again turning around and walking away, this time leaving him completely alone in the room.

He had to take a few moments to collect himself and regain his composure, and by the time he walked back out, you were nowhere in sight. 

With only you on his mind, he headed back to the table where the rest of the team were still playing cards, and sat down in the chair he had occupied before leaving.

“So, now that it’s just us here, I could use some advice on-“ The rookie wasted no time, but didn’t get to finish.

“You couldn’t handle her even if she came with instructions, kid.” Will interrupted without even looking at him, reading his mind without struggle since the person of his interest was one they had in common.

Growing up, your mother had always told you to be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the floor each morning, the Devil says, “oh crap, she’s up”. 

You lived by those words every day of your life, not once backing down from a fight, always standing up for what was right, as well as holding your own and never giving up on getting the things you wanted.

To some, this was an admirable quality while, to others, you might have taken your mother’s words a bit too literally.

When it came to Will? Well, he just had nothing bad to say about you. You might’ve gotten on his nerves ninety-nine percent of the time, and been completely and utterly insufferable, but God did he love it.

Taglist: let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Will Lennox fics!

[spicyfoodboi]

petals covered in blood

Genre: angst

A Tetsuro Kuroo and Kei Tsukishima x reader

A hanahaki disease AU

Synopsis: seeing them falling in love with someone else, soon enough, they start coughing up flowers.

a/n: hey guys! Yes, I said that was taking a break but I felt bored and asked bby sam from @cadekagi for suggesting hanahaki disease and for proofreading and correcting my BS. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Requests are open so please don't be shy in leaving anything in my inbox! Let's get on with it.

 Tetsuro Kuroo

Kuroo felt something coming up his throat as he tries to conceal his barks into his fist, pretending that it was just a cold. He stumbled out the gym doors and out in the hallways to go to the nearest sink.

  He could feel it scratching his throat as another fit of coughs and hacks crashed on top of him. He felt something liquid in his mouth as he opened the door to the boys' bathroom getting to the sink just in time to hack out a whole rich red marigold, the yellow in its petals coated with blood and mucus.

 He visibly retched as he looked at the sink after he finishes up choking on the last remaining petals. He looked down, taking the marigold into his hand. It wasn't like this was the first time he saw the same bloody flower in his palm. He started rasping up when he realized that you fell in love with Nekoma's libero, Yaku. He’s felt agony in his heart and now his throat and lungs for 3 weeks at least. He couldn’t really remember anymore. Even though he already experienced hacking up this flower for weeks now, he still felt the pain in his throat; not only that, he felt unbearable pain in his heart.

 Kenma walked in, his switch tucked into his pocket as he looked at Kuroo with a concerned look. Kuroo told him about the flowers that were blocking his airway, coming up when he had violent coughing fits like this. Kenma scoured the internet for answers, solutions to the problem his best friend was facing. He learned that it was hanahaki disease, a deadly sickness that affected the people falling in love with others that don't love them back.

  Kenma found out that there was a surgery he could get to remove the pain and unfortunately, the feelings away too. Time and time again, Kenma tried, pleaded for Kuroo to get the surgery but he refused every time.

 Tetsuro would rather die with blood-soaked flowers coming out of his lips instead of losing the warm feeling in his chest every time he sees you smile.

 He flashed a smile at Kenma before he felt another coughing fit coming on. He bent over the counter, coughing up leftover petals. Kenma walked over and handed him a tissue. "kuroo, your life is on the line. Please, for the love of god, get the surgery." He looked away from the raven-haired boy. He didn't want to see the sorrow swimming in his eyes. He didn't want to see the pain written on his face. The way his best friend’s face contorted into misery every time he felt the marigolds scratching up his throat, the way he tries to put on a smile seeing you with Yaku, making sure not to show anyone what was happening to him.

 Kuroo sighed, looking at his best friend, "I would rather die than forget the feeling I get when I see (y/n)," he said hoarsely. His vocals were ruined from the flowers coming up his throat. He could deal with all that pain. He could deal with himself losing his life on the tile floor with blood and petals in his toilet bowl- as long as he dies feeling that same warm feeling in his stomach every time he thinks of you.

 They found him in that very same position in his house the morning after.

 Kei Tsukishima

You felt another fit coming on. You bent over to shoot all the blood and crushed white petals in the toilet bowl. In the toilet were 3 white roses, covered in blood. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve hastily. You don’t want anyone to know. You felt disgusting, gross. A girl vomiting flowers isn’t a good thing to be known for.

 You've been vomiting out roses for weeks now. It was ever since you saw Tsukki with another girl on a date that you started feeling these things. You felt immense pain, first in your heart, and now scratching up your throat as you coughed out the white petals. Your best friends were begging you to get the surgery, and once you saw Tsukki kissing the mystery girl, you decided to get it over with.

 It was the last day you would have to see these crushed up roses in your toilet bowl. This was the last day you would feel the pain.

 The pain of hacking up these bloody flowers.

 The pain of seeing Tsukki with someone else.

 You couldn't wait to get it over with.

 A few days after your procedure, you felt as happy as ever. You recovered and went back to managing the Karasuno volleyball team. Everything was going well for you. You could talk to Tsukishima again as friends without feeling your heart getting crushed by jealousy.

 Tsukishima didn't feel well as soon as he found out that you went under the knife.

 He developed a cough that got worse and worse until he spat out a white rose, covered in blood. His eyes widened. What was this? What was happening to him?

 He kept it secret from everyone. He kept it from his brother Akiteru, Yamaguchi, his now ex-girlfriend, and you. He started wheezing, feeling his airways get blocked by roses. Roses that he thought would be soft, gentle but they kept scratching up his throat, pain shot through him as he coughed them out in the sink.

 So this is what it felt like.

 This is what you felt before you followed in with the procedure. This was what you felt when you knew that someone in this world would never love you back. He was glad you got the surgery.

 He was hoping, praying, it wasn't he who caused you this amount of pain, but when you came back, you were a whole different person. You weren't flirty or clingy with him anymore and it hurt him. That's when he felt it. The first cough, followed by the first white petal.

 He caused you this pain. It was his fault. And now it's time for him to suffer, just like you did while trying to hide these petals from him. This was what he gets, He should've been honest and told you how he felt but it was too late now.

 You'll never feel the same way, so why confess? He deserved every single wheeze, every single flower. This is what you went through. He has to go through it too.

 He never recovered.

 This was one of the rare fics that I worked on for 2 days compared to my same-day uploads. I know I said that I won't post this week but eh, I was inspired and bored so why stop? I will still be taking a break this weekend just to get into that headspace and I might extend it up to Tuesday since I have exams. Hope you guys understand! Love yall so much ❤❤❤❤💕

[buckthegrump]

IBTHNTTTY - 7

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Word Count: 1237

Warnings: Angst (kind of), fluff,  wizard swears, a mild anxiety attack

A/n: y’all i got it and let’s just the next 3/4 parts are wild

The knowledge that the week was going to be a stressful one hit her bright and early Monday morning when she first walked in.

Natasha had called Y/n’s office phone with gossip. Typically Y/n was a sucker for gossip, but this particular piece gave Y/n anxiety.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard this or what’s happening, but,” Natasha said in place of a greeting, “I heard a rumor. And I want you to remember that this is just a rumor and could be false. But I heard that they’re going to post a job posting for a new proofreader.”

About three seconds after that reveal, Y/n hastily hung up the phone. If they were looking for a new proofreader, that meant one of two things. Number one, they were going to expand, and Y/n’s job was safe. Or, number two (the one that was the cause of the anxiety) there was going to be an opening for either her or Bucky’s jobs.

Then on Tuesday, she got an email signed by both Coulson and Maria saying they wanted a meeting on Friday. So all week she was stressed. The only part of the week that wasn’t bad was the date. Brock was surprisingly sweet for a guy that looked like he would’ve 100% bullied her in high school.

Friday came at an alarming rate. And as it turned out, Bucky had the same meeting with Y/n. This should’ve alleviated her nerves, but it only added to them.

“You need to breathe, they’re not going to fire you,” Bucky told her as they sat outside the conference room.

“I am breathing,” she lied. Her breathing was erratic, and she sounded a little like a dying car. “And you don’t know that, what if I did something so horrible that they’re just gonna boot me.”

“Have you done anything recently that would warrant termination?” Bucky asked calmly.

She glared at him. “If I knew I wouldn’t be freaking out, would I?”

“Y/n, Bucky,” Coulson called from the doorway. “Come on in.”

Y/n pulled herself together in record time and walked through the door. She and Bucky sat across from their bosses. Y/n could see Bucky flexing his left hand as if he were in pain, but this wasn’t the place to ask about it.

“Y/n, you can stop freaking out,” Maria told her, “you’re not losing your job.”

She could’ve let out a sob right then and there, she settled for sigh instead.

“We have a project for the two of you -” Coulson continued. The way that those two were in sync was a little creepy at times.

“We want you two to work together and do a mock-up for this manuscript,” Maria spoke. While Coulson put two manila envelopes on the table.

“You will have to work together, and should we like the finished product -” 

“The both of you will be promoted to editors,” after Maria spoke those words, Y/n was only half paying attention through the rest of the meeting.

Editor, that’s only what she’s been wanting for forever. And now she had to work with Bucky. Again. It’s almost like last weekend was a test for this, another test. How many tests were these two going to put her through?

Quit complaining, Y/n. You’re gonna be an editor.

“You have until December 20th to complete this task, and you are welcome to use whatever resources you need from the company,” Maria said.

* * *

After the meeting, they walked back to their office.

“So,” Bucky said once the door was closed behind them, “I think we should take this weekend to read the book and brainstorm our own ideas and then figure out which ones we like best on Monday.”

Y/n nodded. “Try not to only come up with dumb ideas.”

It was meant to come off as a joke, but she was still coming down from her anxiety high. So it was much harsher than she meant it to be. Or maybe it was the fact that they both had a job riding on this that forced them back into old habits.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you when you’re the one who suggested a title for a book that was already being used by another author with us,” Bucky said.

“That was years ago, and it was the middle of the night!” Y/n yelled.

“Doesn’t matter. It was still a dumb idea!”

“Oh, and how is that any worse than your idea to send a prospective author things that she was allergic to. Every gift you suggested could’ve killed her or made her sick,” she sneered.

“Oh forgive me, for not realizing that she was allergic to everything under the sun and then some,” Bucky waved his arms dramatically.

Y/n recognized that it was a dumb fight. But falling into a familiar feeling of arguing with Bucky was welcome after the week she’d had.

“I am not missing out on this promotion because you can’t pull your head out of your ass for three minutes,” Y/n said.

“I can’t pull my head out of my ass? How would you know where my head is when you’re is stuck so far up your ass you could eat your own stomach?” 

“Oh ho, he’s got jokes! Too bad your editorial ideas aren’t as original as them!”

They were standing toe to toe, chests heaving, unwilling to break eye contact with one another. If this had been a normal day, that would’ve been the moment when Peter politely knocked on the door to ask one of them a question. And Y/n kept waiting for that to happen before she remembered that Peter had the day off.

Meaning one of them was going to have to break first. And it wasn’t going to be her. As the minutes passed, she lost some of the fire in her chest, and her body relaxed.

“Awe, sunflower, are you getting lost in my eyes?” Bucky had a smug grin on his face, and Y/n wanted nothing more than to smack it off. “I wonder how long you’ve had this burning desire for me.”

“In your dreams, Barnes.”

“But then you wouldn’t get the full Bucky Barnes experience,” his grin widened.

“Careful, you’re toeing a very dangerous HR line.”

The good ol’ HR threat. A threat that they had both used countless times after an argument had possibly gotten out of hand. Neither of them had actually written a complaint, though. It hadn’t been used in a while, though, once again because Peter usually interrupted before it’d gotten that far.

Y/n hoped that they could convince him to stay, or at least she could. She would have to look into having him as her assistant when she became an editor. Hopefully, Bucky wouldn’t also ask him, but she wouldn’t let Bucky win that fight. And if they couldn’t get the kid to stay, she wasn’t sure how they would replace him.

Just as Y/n opened her mouth to say something else, a knock came at the door.

“Hey, Y/n? Are we still going for drinks?” Natasha’s voice was muffled by the door.

“Yeah,” Y/n called back, still not looking away from Bucky. “Just let me grab my coat.”

There was a brief pause before Y/n turned away and grabbed her things.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Two

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

When Roman woke up next, he turned to check the time on the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he wasn’t in his own bed. He sat upright with a gasp before he remembered that he was at the Byron’s to be married off to Damien. He forced away a sob as he got himself dressed again, back into that infernal pink thing his mother forced him to wear. He considered the odds of him being caught walking around barefoot, and decided that the yelling didn’t outweigh the feeling of being able to walk for fifteen minutes.

He slipped on the heels and opened the door to his room to find his suitcases waiting. He pulled them into his room and resolved to change into pants later. As it was, he had to get something to eat before his mother came looking for him.

Wandering around the castle in search of the kitchen, Roman realized that same yellow that was in the entrance was painted on virtually every hallway in the place. He was starting to see why someone might hate it.

He made a triumphant noise when he stumbled upon the kitchen, and his heels clicked against the tile as he looked around. There had to be something simple that didn’t need much preparation that he could eat... “Excuse me?” a voice asked from behind him.

Roman turned and the man gasped, hastily bowing. “Princess Veronica, my apologies, I did not realize that was you!” the man said.

“Oh it’s quite all right, Mister...?”

“Uh, Hart. Patton Hart. I’m the top chef in charge around here,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you? I know you slept through when the Queens were having breakfast together.”

“Yeah, if there’s any...any fruit, or something small I can have for breakfast, that would be lovely,” Roman said.

“Is that all? I could make you something bigger if you wanted...”

“No, something small is all I want,” Roman said, flashing a smile. “If you have any green apples I would be more than happy with one of those.”

“Oh! Sure thing!” Patton said, rushing to the pantry and coming back with two green apples. “Take two, just in case you’re hungrier than you think you are,” he suggested.

“You’re very kind,” Roman said with a small smile.

“Anything for a princess as beautiful as you!” Patton chirped.

Roman kept his smile in place by some miracle of strength he didn’t realize he had. “Do you happen to know where Prince Damien is?” he asked. “I was hoping we could continue our conversation from this morning sooner, rather than later.”

“Oh, of course!” Patton exclaimed. “He should be studying in the library with his professor. He’s incredibly intelligent, did you know? He’s working on getting a Bachelor’s degree in Ancient Roman history.”

Roman sniffed a laugh. Patton’s brows furrowed but Roman just waved a hand. “Nothing particularly funny, just an inside joke between me and my brother,” he dismissed. “How do I get to the library from here?”

“Uh, up one floor and head towards the back of the castle, Damien likes the view by the windows so that’s where you’re most likely to find him,” Patton said.

“All right. Thank you, Patton,” Roman said with a smile, before walking out of the kitchen. His teeth dug into the skin of one of the apples and he took a bite, savoring the tart taste of a good old-fashioned green apple. There wasn’t anything quite like it.

As he made his way upstairs, he kept one ear open to see if he could hear his mother, in an attempt to avoid her. He’d rather spend time alone with Damien than spend any time with his mother.

He got to the library door, somewhat ajar and he pushed it open softly, looking around. There were shelves upon shelves of books, and at the very back of the room, a giant set of bay windows, where Damien was sitting, typing on a laptop. After throwing away the apple cores in a nearby trash can, Roman walked over, relieved that at least one place in the castle had carpet, so he didn’t have to worry about hearing his heels click everywhere.

It was only when he was three feet away that Damien acknowledged him, and then he had him mistaken for someone else as he said, “I’m almost done with my paper, Logan, I’ll have it on the printer for you in five minutes. I just need to finish proofreading.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not interrupting you in the middle of the paper, then,” Roman said, sitting down across from Damien and looking out the window. “But I’m afraid I’m not Logan.”

Damien looked up. “Oh! Veronica,” he said. “My apologies.”

Roman ignored the sting at his deadname, knowing that Damien didn’t know any better. It was taking a lot of patience out of him, but he could grin and bear it just a little while longer, just until he could figure out a way out of here. “It’s fine,” he said. “I was just wondering if you were still studying. I was looking forward to our conversation about childhood adventures.”

“Ah. Well, as I said, I just need to finish proofreading. As soon as the paper is printed we can talk,” Damien said.

Roman nodded and let Damien read through what he had written, and Roman noticed with a small amount of amusement that Damien was mouthing along to what he was reading.

When he turned back to the window, he could see the blue sea stretching for miles, a few boats dotting the blue here and there, but the ocean was mostly untouched. He would love to go out there on a boat, just him and Remus, swimming and play-arguing, and maybe even fishing a little if they were patient enough.

Subtly he shook himself free of those thoughts. That wasn’t a possibility anymore. He wouldn’t get the chance to speak to Remus often, save through emails which would no doubt be heavily monitored by his mother. His eyes stung, and he blinked back his tears. He couldn’t cry, not at all but especially not here, in front of a man who he was doomed to pretend to love until death.

Damien nodded, hit a couple buttons on his laptop, and in the distance, Roman could hear a printer start up. “I can get the paper in a little while,” Damien said with a smile. “I must admit that I wasn’t expecting you to seek me out.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, I may not be pleased at being married, but I would at least like to know my husband. And any time away from my mother is a welcome distraction.”

Damien threw Roman a quizzical look and Roman shrugged with a bitter smile. “It sounds strange, I know, but it’s true. My mother is not the most caring individual in the world. She adores my brother, and she loves who she wants me to be, but I can’t be what she wants me to be, and that leaves me lacking in her support, and often leaves us at odds.”

“You have my sincerest apologies, my dear. That does not sound easy,” Damien said.

Roman shrugged again and sighed. “Do you ever wish that...that you didn’t have to be who everyone wanted you to be? That you felt in charge of your own destiny?”

“All too often,” Damien said softly. “It’s a painful and lonely feeling.”

Roman gave Damien a true smile, albeit tinged with sadness. “At least we aren’t alone in our misery anymore?”

Damien barked a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth and looking around before he grinned at Roman. “How very true,” he said, and Roman felt like he could stare at Damien’s smile forever. Why did Damien have to be cute? Why did Roman have to be into guys? He was sure this would have been easier if he felt nothing for the prince sitting in front of him, but Roman undeniably felt there was something interesting about the man. “So, do you want to continue our discussion about childhood adventures? Or shall we just wallow in misery for a few more minutes?”

Roman offered Damien a smirk. “I don’t know. Commiserating can be very cathartic.”

Damien laughed softly. “Well, why don’t I tell you some of my mishaps, so you might feel less embarrassed about yours?”

“Oh, I’m not embarrassed by my mishaps, they happen to make for hilarious stories,” Roman said with a grin. “There was the time that my brother and I swapped clothes as young kids, convinced that no one would be able to tell us apart.”

Damien chuckled. “Did you have long hair then, too?”

“No. Believe it or not, I had hair much like a pixie cut, and so did my brother. We actually got away with it for most of the day, until it came time for dinner, our parents found us covered in mud from playing in the garden, and we had to each take a bath,” Roman laughed.

Damien laughed with him, and Roman actually felt briefly happy, despite his circumstances. “I never had a sibling to wreak havoc with, which I suppose is for the best, considering the sort of trouble I would get up to just persuading the castle staff to humor me for five minutes. One such incident involved a tailor trying to fit me for a suit when I had to be about...six years old, and I managed to get into my art supplies, grabbing the glitter but not looking where I was going...”

“Oh, no,” Roman laughed. “Where did it land?”

“Somewhat on the fabric that was going to be used for my suit...but mostly on the tailor,” Damien explained.

“Oh, no!” Roman laughed hard enough that he was wheezing. “I can only imagine how you would have been with a brother or sister as a child.”

Damien laughed. “Yes, I fear it would not have ended well for anyone involved.”

Roman shook his head. “Were your parents mad?”

“Furious,” Damien said. “I wasn’t allowed glitter for six months after that.”

Roman laughed with a wince in sympathy.

“When did you start to grow out your hair?” Damien asked, pointing to Roman’s long locks. “If you had a pixie cut as a young child?”

Roman sighed. “My mother forced me to grow it out when I was ten. I wasn’t a fan of it then and I’m still not now. Long hair is just impractical, and I much prefer not having to blow dry anything.”

Damien closed his laptop. “May I ask you a question, Veronica?”

Oh, boy, here it goes, Roman thought. “Sure,” he said.

“You seem to be very...androgynous-to-masculine in behavior. But you wear very feminine clothing, and present as very feminine in appearance in general. Is there any particular reason for that?”

He could say it. He could say he was trans, right now, where no one except him and Damien were. His mother couldn’t stop him, no one would wander in and listen, he could say it. But if Damien reacted poorly...his mother would be furious at him still insisting he was trans, and absolutely nothing would go right. He might even be shipped off to a different kingdom to a different prince to be married there, and he wouldn’t be allowed a bit of privacy from his mother until he had that cursed ring on his finger. So...in reality...he couldn’t say it. “I’m unsure,” he said. “I suppose growing up with Remus, and following around the knights and guards, and very rarely being around women made me have a more masculine taste.”

“I suppose that could be a reason,” Damien agreed, but judging by the look he was giving Roman he didn’t quite believe the lie. “Do you intend to have lunch with the Queens today? My father and I were considering joining the three of you, but I would only want to go if you were in attendance.”

Roman sighed. “I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, Damien,” he admitted. “My mother is a controlling woman. What she says goes, and the only people who dare defy her are removed from her world quickly and without mercy.”

Damien frowned. “That does not sound remotely pleasant. Is there nothing you can do to stop her?”

Roman scoffed. “The last time I tried that is the reason why I’m here now.”

“What?” Damien looked shocked.

“My mother is removing me from the equation until in her eyes I can ‘behave,’” Roman explained, using air quotes around the word behave. “She doesn’t believe me when I say what I want. She thinks that marrying me to a man will make me change my opinion on certain things, like my hair, or preferring to wear pants to skirts.”

“That’s...awful,” Damien managed. “I suppose a part of you must be happy to escape her grasp, though?”

“She’ll constantly pester me here until she’s decided I’ve changed my tune,” Roman spat. “I know this isn’t very ‘ladylike’ but I hate her with a fiery passion usually reserved for the deepest pits of hell.”

Damien’s eyebrows rose and Roman inwardly scolded himself for letting himself get carried away in a rant again. “I’m truly sorry, Veronica. That...that cannot be easy.”

Roman flinched visibly at the use of his deadname, and he stood abruptly, needing to get away, to breathe, to think without constantly having his old life thrown in his face. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, before practically running out of the room.

His heels clicked in the hallways, and with every step Roman could feel himself losing a little more of his sanity. The apples he had eaten earlier felt like a rock in his stomach, and he thought he might be sick.

He retreated to his room, fishing in his luggage for the books he had packed. While his mother had confiscated his laptop, she couldn’t take away the books he had read. He pulled out a classic thriller, deciding that he would read before lunch.

In an instant, he was teleported into a world where he didn’t have to be a ladylike princess named Veronica, he could be Ty Stryder, the private eye trying to figure out who killed the mayor before the corrupt cops got to him and got him to stop investigating...one way or another.

He was halfway through the novel before there was a knock at his door and he checked the time. Ten until noon. Time for lunch. He sighed, smoothed the skirt of his dress, and moved to the door, where an overeager young servant was waiting for him. “Right this way, Your Highness, the royal family will be eating with you and your mother.”

Joy, Roman thought to himself, but again, didn’t dare say.

He allowed himself to be guided to the main dining room, which had high ceilings, and bright white walls, with gold accents in the curtains. Damien was already there, as was Damien’s mother, but it appeared that Damien’s father and Roman’s mother were not yet in attendance. “Your Highness, Your Majesty,” he greeted.

“Ah, Veronica, come on in,” the Queen said. “Your mother and I missed you at breakfast this morning.”

Roman shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid I was more tired than anticipated,” he said with a plastered-on fake smile.

Damien gave him a searching look and Roman bit back the urge to snarl and run. It wasn’t anything Damien had done, it wasn’t fair to antagonize him for something he couldn’t help. Roman sat down across from Damien, which he really wished he could avoid, but he knew it was Damien or the Queen, and he wasn’t quite ready to tackle the problem which was the Queen yet. “Are you feeling better, Veronica?” Damien asked.

“Better? Was she ill earlier?” the Queen asked.

“She was in a hurry this morning when we were having a discussion in the library. I could only assume she felt unwell, by how distraught she was at the end of the conversation,” Damien explained.

And all of a sudden, Roman thought that he might get sick again. He hated his old name and his old pronouns more than he had first thought. Or maybe he was just hearing them so often that it felt like he had never been called anything else, ever, not even by Remus. “I’m feeling a little better, thank you,” he said quietly, hating the sound of his too-high voice, hating the feel of the too-tight dress, hating the situation of being trapped inside his own mind with no way to free himself.

Then, the King came in, along with Roman’s mother, and Roman had to plaster on that all-too-fake smile again as the King greeted him, and his mother sat down next to him, across from the Queen.

Patton came in, along with five servants, who placed plates in front of each of the members of the table. “Today’s lunch is rather simple, I’m afraid. Chicken parmesan,” Patton said.

“I’m sure it’s great, Patton,” the King said. “All of your food is.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Patton said with a bow. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to shout!”

And with that, the five were left alone with their food. Roman forced himself to eat, even though food was the last thing on his mind. His mother would want him to be polite, and that included eating what was put in front of him.

“I had seen pictures of you before, Veronica, but they don’t do you justice. You look absolutely beautiful,” the King said.

Roman looked down at his plate in embarrassment and just a touch of anger before he looked back up and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The King smiled at him and as the Queen and his mother started talking about wedding plans in excitement, Damien and Roman shared embarrassed glances. Roman was relieved that at least he wasn’t the only one who felt embarrassed by this turn of events. Damien didn’t feel completely comfortable with the wedding either, or at least, he didn’t feel comfortable with their mothers’ plans.

The conversation continued for a while, as Roman picked at his food. Then, “What do you think, Veronica?”

Roman hummed a question as he washed down some of the chicken with his water. “I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asked.

“Do you have a preference on a dress?” his mother asked with a touch of impatience. “I was hoping for something rather intricate, I love it when you wear lace.”

Roman bit his tongue and shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought, truth be told. Although I must admit I’m not looking for anything like lace in particular. It’s rather difficult for me to enjoy myself when I’m wearing something that...well...feels wrong.”

His mother sent him a warning glare. Roman shrugged. “I just don’t like lace very much, Mother, I’m sorry.”

The conversation continued, with Roman reluctantly roped into it. It was all “Veronica” this and “Veronica” that, never once asking his opinion on the questions that mattered, and he absolutely hated it.

“Do you prefer gold or silver, Veronica?”

“Chocolate cake for the reception, Veronica?”

“What do you want your first dance to be, Veronica?”

Roman stood up from the table the moment he finished his chicken, the chair he was sitting in screeching across the floor. “Apologies, I’m still not feeling well,” he said, before leaving the room without another word.

Tag List: @loganpatton​ @lilbeanblr​ @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander​ @narniasfinestavengingsociopath  @rjmeta​ @ambersky0319​ @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @nafsbluebery @lunareclipse-13 @sanders-sides-crofters @blushy-gigglee-mess @wannacrymetoo @kaytikitty @magicalspacepanunicorn @bootsinthesun @pricklyfish777 @flowersanddinosaurs @leiasolo77 @voidvirgil @birdybabybird @enby-phoenix @luna–28 @justagaygoose @the-prince-and-the-emo @fandomsandanythingelse @randommuffinyt @snekky-boi @thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot @twilight-trix @abby5577 @escalatingtoofast @friendlyfacestabbing @remus-is-stinky @foggybanditdreampeanut @ghostskull300 @sprinklestheditty

[resowrites]

Suddenly It Happened - oneshot (request).

Summary: Henry’s longtime personal assistant wonders if he’ll ever return her feelings…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, brief mention of relationship difficulties, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2040

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Suddenly It Happened - oneshot.

The door to the waiting area closed softly. She looked up to see her boss, smiling casually as he motioned for her to join him. The meeting with his publicist lasted only half an hour but she still had to drive him into central London for a day of press. Naturally, he was dressed to the nines and looking as handsome as ever. She sighed as she got into the car, wondering how despite his ever-increasing popularity, he’d managed to remain single. She'd worked closely with him for the last five years, doing all manner of tasks, many far out of her purview as a personal assistant. But Henry wasn't like the other celebrities she'd met. He was kind, humble, and undemanding, the sort of man she'd always dreamed of meeting but knew was way out of her league. Her personality was very much like his own but whereas his looks were talked about and admired the world over, she was plain and bookish. Hardly his type. But that didn't stop her from daydreaming occasionally or stealing a loving glance. She knew nothing would ever happen, and she was far too serious about her job to ever risk being so stupid. Yet still, she wondered. He looked over at her from the passenger seat, his gaze as warm as his smile. She kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead "Tell me again where we're headed first?"

"The Thistle Hotel, you'll be there hopefully no more than a couple of hours. Did you manage to look over the list of questions I emailed you last night?" His smile grew wider.

"Yep, seems pretty standard stuff. Thanks for making sure there were no personal questions, though I must admit it gets a bit tedious being asked about Kal all the time..." She uncomfortably cleared her throat but otherwise said nothing. "You're still coming to the premiere next week aren't you?" 

"Of course, wouldn't miss it."

"Great, you know how uncomfortable I get at those things. All those flashing lights, the shouting, the hordes of people..."

"Well, don't worry. We'll whip you through it all pretty quickly." She tried to smile reassuringly.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it. And thanks for being with me today."

"No problem. It's what I'm here for." Her voice sounded thick as she finished her sentence and she hoped she hadn't come across too awkwardly.

"No, I'm serious. You make this job a thousand times easier and I don't thank you enough for it." She smiled again but remained silent. "... Are you okay?" Her brow furrowed.

"Of course, why?"

"I dunno, you just seem a little quiet." She tried hard not to blush. Being under such close scrutiny always made her cringe.

"Oh, no I'm fine. Just running through today's checklist in my mind. I've got to email Armani's head office again, your suit for the premiere still hasn't arrived." Henry chuckled softly.

"Well, relax. You work hard enough, and I can always find another suit." She shook her head, amused. "What?!"

"It's not quite that straightforward." He harrumphed.

"Well, it ought to be. I mean it though, don't run yourself ragged--"

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a personal assistant if I didn't." She gave a tired smile and he considered her for a moment. Eventually, she had to look away. "So, who are you taking to the premiere besides your family?" Why had she asked such a thing? She felt her face turn crimson, annoyed that her desperation to change the subject had caused her to well and truly put her foot in it. She certainly had every right to know, but it was information usually offered up by the client first.

"Er, I'm not really sure at the moment..." Henry returned to looking out the passenger window and she could have kicked herself. What did it matter who he invited anyway? She knew he dated around and would probably turn up on the arm of some young starlet. For a moment she both loathed and envied them. She'd worked hard all her life for very little in return. When could she expect the happiness she read about in her books or saw in the films she watched? A melancholy thought then entered her head, that being a personal assistant was the closest she'd ever get to someone like Henry. And she supposed that was fair enough. Surely someone as rich and handsome as him deserved someone equally beautiful and successful? She caught her reflection in her wing mirror and stared crossly at it. There was no use in her pining and indulging selfish thoughts. She had a job to do. Today was all about Henry. "Did you manage to get a table at La Cuchina?"

"Yep, in the private section at your usual table." She relaxed somewhat at the thought of having lunch with him, in private he was great company to be around, always joking and telling stories.

"Brilliant, to tell you the truth I'm already famished." She suddenly remembered the bagel and pecan brownie she'd picked up at Starbucks earlier that morning just in case. Henry had a habit of missing breakfast and she hated the thought of him going hungry. 

"Reach in the glove box, I picked you up something from Starbucks." His face lit up and he happily munched away as they came closer to the hotel. As was her custom on press days, she then moved on to her usual pep talk. "Now remember to relax and have fun, we've kept the questions light and entertaining so just keep your answers brief and focused."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm long-winded?" She shifted in her chair, not quite willing to meet Henry's mischievous gaze.

"Of course not, but I know you get carried away. Especially on your favourite subjects..."

"And what might those be?"

"Well, you do love your history for starters--"

"Oh, that reminds me, I read that one you recommended about Port Royal in the eighteenth century." She glowed inwardly at the thought of him reading something she'd enjoyed.

"Oh yeah, what did you think?"

"It was fascinating... do you think I could play a pirate?" She choked on the bottle of water she was sipping from. "I take that as a 'no?'"

"Well... you might have to drop the accent." They smiled at each other. "Anyway you'd get completely obsessed in the research and muggins here would be sent off on all manner of errands--"

"And when have I ever made you do those?!"

"Are you kidding?! The guys in the Warhammer store know me by name!"

"Ooh I wonder if James will be interviewing me again?" 

"Yes, he is, but remember to stay on track--"

"You call me obsessed, that guy knows everything there is to know. I wonder if he got the custom model I sent him a couple of weeks back?"

"He did, he sent a card to the office, didn't I tell you?"

"No... though you have seemed a little distracted lately." Her brow furrowed, but she didn't get a chance to respond. "How are things going with Simon?" She was afraid Henry would bring him up. Her six-month on-and-off relationship was the last thing she wanted to discuss. The truth was she hadn't heard from Simon for several weeks. 

"Fine," she said a bit too quickly.

"... Is he joining you at the premiere? You know you're allowed to bring a guest."

"No, he's... busy." The next couple of minutes were swallowed up by an uneasy silence.

"Oh, that's a shame. It's a big night for you though, what could he possibly have to do that's more important?" She bristled slightly at the question and decided it was best not to respond. "You know, you're a good person. You deserve someone who treats you well." She felt a curious mixture of embarrassment and delight.

"Nah, I'm nothing special. Besides, I'm married to the job..."

"Tell me about it, I have the exact same problem." She couldn't help but scoff.

"Oh come on, someone like you could have anyone. I bet you're spoiled for choice."

"What do you mean?"

"Well it's just, you know, you're... you. Who wouldn't want that?" She regretted the words the minute they came out of her mouth and her face flushed a deep crimson.

"You'd be surprised. People don't really love me they just love whatever image of me they have in their mind."

"And what makes you think you don't match up to that?"

"Well for one, I'm not always in such great shape." Was he joking? With him, it was sometimes hard to tell. "I think people expect me to be a lot more outgoing than I am as well." That part was certainly true, she'd definitely noticed how shy and introverted Henry could be.

"Well, I'm sure you'll meet the right person eventually." To this, he didn't reply and she began to wonder if she'd overstepped.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why are you still working for me?" She blinked several times, at first wondering if she'd misheard him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're an intelligent, hard-working woman, don't you have an economics degree?" She hardly knew how to respond. If she explained the real reason she kept working for him he could very well leap from a moving car.

"I dunno, I like what I do I guess." Another thought then crossed her mind. "Why? Are you unhappy with my services?"

"No, of course not! You're the best. I'd be totally lost without you. I just... hope I'm not holding you back." Did he mean to keep sending mixed signals? One minute he was singing her praises and the next he was questioning why she was even in his employ.

"To be honest... I have thought about moving on." Henry snapped round to face her.

"What? Why?!"

"Cos you're right, it's not very ambitious of me to keep spinning my wheels."

"But... but I need you." She felt her heart begin to thump.

"Oh stop, you could train a chimp to do what I do."

"... Pull over."

"What? Why? Henry, we're going to be late." But his hand pointed towards a free parking space free on the left-hand side of the road. Reluctantly, she reversed into it and came to a stop. They then sat there quietly for several moments. "Henry, we really need to get going."

"... Do you hate me?"

"What? Look, we really don't have time for this, you can't miss your first interview--"

"Sod the bloody interview!" Henry's outrage almost made her jump. "Answer the question." She sighed and took the key out of the ignition, figuring they were going to be there for a while. 

"No of course I don't hate you, you're one of the nicest people I've ever known." He worked his jaw, clearly choosing his next words carefully.

"... So will you go with me?"

"With you? Where to?"

"The premiere." She stared at Henry, utterly confused.

"I already said I was! Now let's get going, otherwise, we're going to get stuck in traffic." But he put his hand over hers, causing it to jerk away from the steering wheel. 

"No, I mean... will you go with me? As my guest?" The look in her eyes was blank at first and then almost tearful. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and a horrible pit open in her stomach. She snapped off her seatbelt and bolted from the car. "Wait, where are you going?!" For nearly five minutes, Henry chased after her, eventually catching her by the wrist when she turned to head down a quiet side street. "W-where do you think you're going?!" He leaned over for a moment out of breath and she was surprised to realise she'd outrun him.

"I'm sorry... I just needed some air."

"What? Why? Did I upset you?" She bit her quivering lip.

"You know it's not very nice to tease me. I know I'm just a plain Jane from the office but it really hurt my feelings. Please don't do anything like that again." Henry just gawped at her, dumbfounded.

"You think I was joking?" But this time she felt indignation rise up through her stomach.

"Well, aren't you?!"

"Of course not!" She tried to read his expression but then backed away and scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous - what could you possibly see in me?!" The look on Henry's face was pitiful.

"... I see the sweet, gentle-natured woman who's put up with me for half a decade and gone above and beyond not only to help me but to be my friend when I've needed one most. There are so few people I can trust but with you, I can always be myself. I can't promise it'll be easy, but if you'll have me, I really hope you can be more than just a friend..." She hardly knew what to think, say, or do. These sorts of things just didn't happen, and she had a horrible feeling the trapdoor was going to open any minute.

"But... but why me?" It was his turn to look confused.

"Well, why not you? You're everything I've ever wanted. But, if you still have feelings for someone else--" she didn't let Henry finish. Instead, she threw herself into his arms and they spent the next few minutes kissing amidst the throng of passersby. 

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[yournotsolocalcryptid]

I was wondering if you could make an imagine with Warren Worthington and number 1 of that 55 dialogue prompt list you made? Maybe smut, if you're comfortable with that.

I’ve never written full-blown smut before. Not bc I’m uncomfortable with it but more bc I’m worried it’ll be cringy as I’m not very experienced sexually. #immavirgin. You guys will have to let me know what you think of my first ever fic featuring smutty stuff! 

Prompt(s): 1. Do you trust me?” 

Pairing(s): Warren Worthington x afab!Reader

Warnings: SMUT TOWARDS THE END AND IMPLIED SMUT AT THE VERY END DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18. Mentions of blood (not during the smut), fluff? poor writing skills and very poorly proofread. I apologize in advance for any spelling errors, grammar errors and any cringe-worthy moments. 

Word count: 1.2k

Both you and Warren tended to keep to yourselves partially by choice but the other students had always kept their distance. Because of this almost all of your interactions with Warren were in training, class or on missions, and what you learned is that Warren, despite all appearances always had your back. In training, they would often split you into groups of 2-4 and on more than one occasion it had been you and Warren against another classmate and apparently the two of you worked well together, or at least that’s what Storm and Professor X said when they sent the two of you on what was supposed to be a simple recon Mission by yourselves.

You were inside mingling with the guests at this event, Warren was watching from a distance and everything was going smoothly. Until it wasn't. You don't know what happened or what changed but all of a sudden you were bleeding and running for your life through an upper floor corridor.

“Talk to me Y/N” you heard warren say through the earpiece “what's going on? Where are you?”

“I’m being chased through a corridor a few floors up, I’m bleeding, I have no way out,” you said breathlessly as you ran “I’m trying to find a place to hide but all the rooms are locked or occupied and I don't have time to kick a door down”

“Y/N do you trust me?” 

“Yes” you responded without a moment's hesitation. 

“Can you find a way to the roof from where you are?”

“Yes. I-I think so”

“Good. go to the roof”

“What are you planning?” no response “Warren?” you shouted as you climbed staircase after staircase

“Trust me” was all you heard before the line went dead again. 

You climbed one last staircase and bust out onto the roof making sure to find something to jam the door with. Your shirt was now half covered in blood and the cut on your face stung in the wind.

“Warren?” no response “I’m on the roof. What now?” still nothing “Warren?” 

“Behind you”

You whipped around and saw Warren landing on the far end. You sprinted over. 

“What’s the plan?”

“Hold tight” was all he said. He wrapped his arms around your waist and took flight again

 You flung your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. Thank God for Warren. 

 When you landed at the school, You took no notice of the amount of blood you’d lost but Warren definitely did as you made your way to Professor X’s office to report. The two of you recounted what happened while Professor X listened intently, when you were done he thanked you and said you should find someone to help you get cleaned up, but before you could protest and say you were fine, Warren volunteered, grabbed your arm and lead you out to the hall, to his room and into his bathroom. 

“Sit on the counter” he said as he started grabbing things from various cabinets. You debated arguing but figured it wasn’t worth it. He did offer to help you after all. After hopping on the counter you pulled your shirt off so he had better access to your wounds.

He turned back to you, his arms full of supplies and He set them down beside you on the counter. He made no indication that he cared about or even noticed your lack of shirt. He gave you a small glass of water from the sink and some painkillers which you took. Then He took your knees in his hands and spread them so he could stand between them. Then he used an antiseptic wipe and started carefully cleaning each of your injuries, then he covered them with gauze. You watched as he did all this. You watched his hands, you watched his face and you realized you’d never seen Warren be this gentle before. When he finished, he stepped aside to wash his hands and he looked up after drying them to find you still watching him.

“What?” he asked 

You hopped off the counter and walked over to him. Your bodies were so close yet not quite touching when you asked,

“Do you trust me?” 

He nodded and swollowed almost nervously and you closed the minuscule gap between your bodies and your lips met his. He kissed back almost immediately and his hands landed on your waist, then slid down to your hips then onto the swell of your ass. Your hands started tugging at his shirt when he pulled away and his hands moved back to your waist.

“Wait. wait” he said a little breathless “are you sure about this?” 

You nodded and within seconds his shirt was on the floor his lips were back on yours and he was guiding you backward toward his bed. As you walked you hastily undid his belt and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Your knees brushed the edge of the bed and you let yourself fall onto the mattress. He moved to climb on top of you but  you stopped him

“Wait”

He looked confused for a moment but the second you hand reached behind your back the look in his eyes shifted to one of pure lust and hunger. You undid the hooks, slipped your bra off and flung it out of the way. 

“Fuck” he whispered lustily 

In no time at all, he had crawled over you and kissed you again before attaching his lips to your breast and paying attention to the other with his hand.  You arched your back at the sensation. When he switched sides you slipped your hand between your bodies, into his pants and felt him through his briefs. He moaned loudly but the sound was muffled by your breast. 

He stood up and your hand slipped out of his pants. Warren took his pants off and made quick work off yours leaving you both in just your underwear which he then removed as well. He pulled you towards the edge of the bed, knelt between your thighs and looked up at you the question of consent written clearly over his face. 

“Warren if you don’t touch me I swear to god-“ but you were cut off by the feeling of his fingers on your folds. He collected some of your wetness on the tip of his finger and slowly pushed the one finger into you. 

“Oh fuck” you breathed as Warren started pumping his finger in and out at a steady pace.

“Do you think you can take another one?” 

You nodded and he pushed a second finger into you causing you to moan loudly. 

“W-Warren use- fuck- use your mouth” 

Warren obliged and emphatically started licking and sucking at your clit, you moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair and he started curling his fingers within you messaging your g-spot perfectly. 

“Fuck Warren! I’m s-so close” you moaned

He continued these motions, his eyes never leaving you as you felt the knot in your stomach get tighter and tighter until it snapped and you came hard around his fingers. 

“You up for more?” He asked cheekily 

“Fuck yes”

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 19 (Part 1)

Written by: Sol, Allegra, ss Edited by: ss, Allegra

Later that evening, Paul and Bob sat on opposite ends of the sofa, Bob on his laptop and Paul idly flipping through a magazine while listening to Bob’s iPod. Alvy was curled atop Bob’s feet.

“I still feel so bad about about what happened tonight,” Paul sighed, pulling out his earbuds.

“I think Nick’s fine now,” Bob shrugged.

Paul scooted closer to Bob. “I still feel bad. I shouldn’t have done that to him.” He sighed again and rested his head on Bob’s shoulder. Bob immediately froze when he felt Paul’s soft hair brushing his neck.

“You don’t have to feel bad. It’s okay now.”

“I just… I don’t like how Alex treats Nick,” Paul sighed.

“Why?” Bob asked, doing his best not to focus on how close he was to Paul right at that moment.

“I dunno...something about it just bothers me, coming from that same situation…” Paul nestled himself closer to Bob.

“Everyone’s different. Nick might need help with some things that you didn’t, and that’s fine,” Bob tried to reassure the smaller man.

“You’re right,” Paul said, still pouting.

Bob tried to return his focus to the report he was writing, but he found it difficult with Paul restricting the freedom of one of his arms, though that wasn’t his biggest concern. Paul had made himself comfy on Bob’s side. Even though it was apparent that the both of them were already quite comfortable with each other, Paul’s touchiness had surprised Bob. Bob stared at the mostly empty document on the screen of his laptop. The blinking of his cursor matched the ever increasing beating of his heart. He was too busy trying to focus that he hadn't noticed that Paul was also staring at his screen.

“What're you doing?” Paul's question snapped Bob out of his idleness.

“Oh, uh, I’m trying to do my report.”

“You're just staring at the screen,” Paul pointed out the obvious.

“Yeah, well,” Bob nudged the arm Paul was currently latching onto, “it's kind of hard to work while you're..”

“Ah! Right. Sorry.” Paul quickly detached himself, leaning back into the couch. Bob almost regretted saying anything because he immediately missed Paul's touch. But between the deadline and his strong need for affection, Bob found that the former had more urgency for the time being.

Paul didn't retreat back to his former position at the other end of the couch but instead sat closely beside Bob, their shoulders touching. This was comfortable enough for Bob, both physically and mentally. He started to let his fingers tap on the keys. It didn’t last long though. As Bob felt Paul’s gaze on the screen, Bob felt self-conscious even though Paul was only staring at his work. Bob’s pause made Paul raise a question once more.

“Stuck?” he asked, still staring at the screen, waiting for more words to appear.

“Uh...not really.”

Paul nudged Bob’s shoulder. “Go on, then. Wanna see what you think of,” Paul squinted and leaned forward, looking for something on the sea of words Bob had just typed, “Gericault’s Raft of Medusa.”

This shouldn’t have surprised Bob, but it did. He knew Paul had a strong interest in the arts, so it shouldn’t be news for him that Paul would take an actual interest in his essay. This still didn’t make Bob feel any better.

“Well, alright...but take it with a grain of salt,” Bob said, his voice worried. “I’m just a student after all...”

“Still an art student nonetheless,” Paul shrugged. Bob smiled at Paul’s statement. Bob continued typing, once in a while reaching for his book on the coffee table for reference. Paul watched intently, tilting his head along whenever Bob brought the book to his lap for reading. Once in a while Paul asked a question or two, whether it be a term that was alien to him or a further explanation of what Bob had typed. In a way, Paul was proofreading his report, so Bob didn’t complain. Besides, Paul was learning new things along the way too, so it was a two birds one stone kind of situation. After a while Bob finally managed to finish his report. As he closed his laptop and sighed in relief, he heard Paul sigh contentedly as well.

“That was fun,” Paul said. He made a soft noise as he stretched his limbs. “I don’t mind watching you work all the time like this.”

Bob felt his face flush. That was something he’d never expected to hear. As much as Bob agreed, he knew he would need his own personal space to work. Bob scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Thanks...”

Paul gave him a toothy grin. “Don’t sweat it. It’s nice to learn a thing or two. I like to know the context and story behind a piece of art, it gives it more meaning.”

Bob nodded in agreement. Truthfully, while they had been spending a lot of time together, it was one of the rarer moments that Bob saw Paul talk about art. It was a comforting thought to know that the person he had hastily asked to be his roommate had actual common interests with him. The blonde sat up straighter in excitement, not wanting to end the night and conversation just yet. “I could tell you more, if you’d like..”.

“Really?” Paul’s face lit up.

“Yeah!” Bob replied eagerly. “We could go to a museum or a gallery, there might be some pieces I’ve learned about, and... And... we can discuss them!” Bob couldn’t help his excitement. Even though he had Alex and a few people in art school he was on talking terms with, Paul was his roommate and probably the person closest to him. He was eager to spend more time with dark haired man now that he knew about their shared interest.

“Sounds like a plan! It’s a date then.”

Bob paused. He could feel his face heating up, all the way to his ears. A date? What had made Paul think of that? Bob tried to retrace his words, had he possibly slipped up? But he knew he had always been careful to hide his feelings, so he was sure he hadn’t hinted it that way to Paul. Paul being Paul, he was most likely using the term loosely, but Bob couldn’t help the way his heart felt hopeful about it.

While Bob sat there, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Paul kept going. “There’s that really nice museum, Kelvingrove, was it? The one with the nice gardens. I wonder if we could take Alvy on a stroll there.”

Bob gulped. We? His head was spinning. He was happy that Paul had taken it very lightly, but this whole situation was also nerve-wracking at the same time. It would be his first ever date with a boy, a very nice boy, and it was a big deal to him. Before Bob’s mind could spin even further, Paul brought Bob’s thoughts back to reality.

“Bob?”

“Yeah?” he answered dazedly.

“What do you think?”

“Yeah...” he answered before he had even fully processed the thought.

Paul gave Bob an approving pat on the knee before he got up to leave for the bedroom. “You coming to bed?” Bob desperately wanted to join, and maybe probe Paul further about this apparent date, but he refused, excusing himself to finish his homework. Once the bedroom door closed, Bob lunged for the nearest pillow and buried his face in it, trying not to scream from happiness. He had just made date plans with Paul.

[brancadoodles]

Second on the list (and probably last Symbra for a while - I’ll try not to repeat prompts and if two people picked the same prompt for different pairings, I’ll prioritize ships that haven’t been written yet). This is longer than I had planned (almost 3k words, oh my Lord), but I hope you’ll enjoy I guess. It features a lot more Symm and Naya than Symbra, fair warning.

(oh and thanks again to @redcap3 for proofreading!)

"It's pillow fort made out of blankets", whispered Sombra.

Satya opened her mouth to say the first thought that came to her lips (“A pillow fort made out of blankets isn’t a ‘pillow’ fort, it’s a blanket fort”), but managed to bite her tongue on the last second. That would be understood as arrogance even if it was pure logic, and would be a useless remark. If anything, it would do more harm than good in this situation.

The situation being a blanket fort in the middle of her child’s room, with a starry comforter thrown over three chairs snuck from the living room and at least 3 other blankets and comforters tied to several furniture around. A dim light could be seen from inside, which she deducted came from the small moon-shaped reading light that belonged hanging from the wall next to the now bare bed - the mattress had been removed and placed inside the fort, as well as the stuffed toys that usually were there.

Satya’s rational understanding that children like to build forts and hideouts to play on their own and exercise their imagination clashed with her instinctive displeasure of fostering that mess. That conflict between her own nature and a child's reality had become quite familiar in the past year, ever since she had decided to begin bonding with that skittish 6-year-old victim of Vishkar’s developments, Naya. That orphaned, crippled, traumatized, marvelous creature who stole her heart and, according to Sanjay once she announced her decision to adopt the girl, her common sense.

Perhaps he was a crook, but Satya had to recognize he was at least partially right. She didn't regret adopting at all, but the appearance of rogue grey hairs on her head and the dark patches under her eyes were a few physical proof of the adaptation process. Some people had approached her in a conciliatory tone, chanting about how much work a child meant and praising her selflessness for adopting a “grown”, physically disabled one, and as a single woman no less. Satya understood how most of that praise was disguised venom or condolence, and never gave them any satisfaction by acknowledging the girl's obvious unconventional behavior. She could see enough of herself in Naya to know which tactics would most likely work in someone whose mind tended to be so foreign to everyone else, even if Naya admittedly seemed to display more obvious traits than she ever did - and she would never willingly allow the girl to be seen as stranger than any other kid.

She bit her tongue again out of frustration. That knowledge didn't make parenting any easier. In the end, Naya was unique, like every person.

“Is she inside the blanket fort?” she murmured to Sombra, unable to keep herself from making the correction.

Sombra nodded. “I tried talking to her a little, but she’s cagey. Did you guys have a fight or something while I was out?”

Satya felt her frown deepen. “She punched a classmate who made fun of her.”

“Oh.”

“She had stopped with physical aggressions. Two weeks and no complaints, only praise. She looked a lot more relaxed, too. I thought we were making progress. When I picked her up from the principal’s office I was… frustrated.”

“Mmhm” Satya thought she’d picked something from Sombra’s tone of voice.

“You do agree with me, don’t you?”

“Yea, I mean… she gotta defend herself. But not violently!” she hissed quickly at Satya’s piercing glare. “She should’ve… left the classroom or… gotten an adult… or said something. But... Saty,” Sombra sighed “you know none of these is easy for her.”

Satya looked back at the fort, and also sighed. Yes, she knew. She watched in silence a shadow stirring inside. Naya was probably reading. Or asleep.

“Saty, did you yell at her?”

“I…” She wouldn’t say she went there. She did raise her voice, and she was angry and disappointed and frustrated, and she might have steered a little more aggressively than usual on the way home and, and maybe she did act a little intimidating and had given snappish responses after the argument…

“...I might have, a little.”

Sombra didn’t chastise her, and she was forever grateful that her Oli had such careful timing.

“Well, you’ll see.” She turned away toward the hallway. “Call me if you need anything. But talk to her, she’s all weird. Has she ever built a fort before?”

“No. She usually hides in a corner beside the desk when she’s sad. This is new.”

Sombra raised her hand to Satya’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, winking on cue before heading outside. Satya remained on the doorstep, alone and wondering.

After a minute, she took a deep breath and walked into the room, quietly approaching the makeshift tent. She cleared her throat, but her voice came out hoarse and out of tune.

“Naya?”

There was no answer, but she did see the shadow moving again, a little too much to be asleep.

“Naya. May I enter?”

The shadow moved again, closer to the lamp and away from the “entrance”. Satya decided to take that as something like permission, and got on all fours to crawl inside.

She had to knock a few of Naya's plushies off to sit as barely fit in there, of course, but it was an undeniably well-made tent, considering it was improvised by a small child out of blankets and a few pieces of furniture. Naya had brought in pillows and books and made a small nest at the farther end of the mattress, where she sat wrapped in a lavender comforter, only her face poking out.

She didn’t look at Satya, and even turned away slightly when the woman sat cross-legged in the middle of the tent. Afraid? Angry? Hurt? Sad? Satya began focusing on the child’s body language. She could carefully watch it along with her words, and have clues about what to say.

“Naya,” she murmured. “what is this?” she gestured around her as well as she could in the limited room. Naya turned her face back to her and didn’t look up when answering, softly:

“A cave.”

“A cave? Okay. Why are all your plushies in it? Are they playing?”

“No.”

“So what are you all doing in here?”

Naya hugged whatever plushies she had hidden under the comforter and lifted her chin, a little defiantly, towards Satya, but not looking at her. “I took them all inside because a storm was coming, and they all need to be safe.”

“Oh, I see.” And Naya was very afraid of heavy rain. “Why did you bring the mattress in? It must have been difficult, it’s heavy.”

Naya shot her a suspicious gaze before looking down again, shaking her head a little too abruptly. Oh, she knows I don’t like this mess.

“Caves are strong, but the ground is too hard, so I brought the mattress in.” she pointed at the toys Satya had knocked off with her chin. “They were asleep after having dinner.”

“I guess I should pick them up, no? And re-settle them.”

“You can’t. You are on their place. They’re really angry that you pushed them to the side, this is their bed.” Naya rocked forward to reach a plush cat and pull it back on the mattress, huffing annoyingly. “This is for myself and -- you pushed Lily out of the cave!”

Satya was startled at Naya’s high-pitched cry and could barely twist out of the way as the girl lunged forward, crawling over her mother and stretching as much as possible to reach an anthropomorphic sleeping bee plush doll that had fallen outside the tent. She returned to her spot in the makeshift nest hugging Lily as she hastily covered herself with the comforter again, shooting Satya an angry look. “This is our place.”

The woman sustained the gaze, knowing that Naya wouldn’t be able to hold it for long; and almost on cue, the girl looked to the side, even more irritated. Satya bit her tongue once again; she couldn’t act on her first impulse, and be annoyed. Not if she wanted Naya to open up.

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly.

“I believe we should talk, you and I. About what happened at school.”

Naya flinched visibly, pursuing her lips. Satya felt a pang in her heart, and was quick to add: “We don’t have to talk in here, though, as this is your place. I’ll be waiting outside, if you promise to come out to talk to me. Will you?”

Naya was in silence for many seconds before bobbing her head in confirmation, and Satya carefully crawled out of the tent, sitting on the bed frame and crossing her legs. She tightened her grip on her knee as her child didn’t follow immediately.

Try and relax, she scolded herself. It’ll be okay. You gave her space. That was the right thing to do. You’ll soon discuss what went down at school again.

“Again”? Is that what you need? Echoed a small voice inside Satya’s head. It sometimes had Sombra’s mocking tone, like now.

Satya glanced over the blanket fort, which held tight even when an adult entered it and even as Naya’s shadow showed how she fussed inside. Her daughter was intelligent and resourceful. She had trouble talking to people, but once she made friends she was easygoing and kind. She was polite, sweet, affectionate, and Satya felt a fuzz inside every time she thought about everything Naya was beyond words.

It wasn’t fair school was such a struggle. Her therapist had been instructing Satya and Sombra, and they all had been working so hard on coaching the child on her hurdles. The school was aware, and Satya made a point on participating in PTA meetings despite how most of them made her skin crawl. But Naya was skittish and impatient, and showed an aggressive streak when confronted directly - especially with other children. Was Naya aware of it? Did she realize how much progress she was doing?

She was just a kid, but she wasn’t dumb.

No:, the voice in Satya’s head barked back, she isn’t dumb, but she’s just a kid.

Satya bit her tongue again, mulling over the thought.

She inhaled and exhaled a few times before hearing Naya tumble out of the “cave”, still placing the last of her plushies carefully in position and tightening up her prosthetics around her legs. Right. Naya didn’t like standing without the hard light legs ever since Satya had them projected, and she was sensitive to comments about it.

Naya got up, taking a deliberately long time to close the blanket entrance while Satya patiently waited. Finally, the girl took a few strained steps towards a spot on the bed, two feet away from Satya’s mechanical arm. She sat down, looking at her interlaced hands, and they were both quiet for a moment.

“Meri pyaari beti,” Satya started, her voice now soft and silken. Naya sharply turned her head towards her, seeming surprised at the tone and the endearment.

Satya felt another pang in her heart. “I need to apologize to you.”

The girl blinked a few times, squeezing her hands together. Satya uncrossed her legs and unconsciously mimicked the gesture, pursuing her lips before managing to speak again.

“I am aware of your efforts to behave in a appropriate way at school.”, she continued, “I know you’ve been using your words a lot more lately. Do you see good things coming from that attitude we’ve been encouraging you to have?”

Satya knew she was using complicated words, but that’d have to do now. She clamped her fingers tighter.

“I… I do.” Naya answered, sheepishly. “Mika has become my friend, and we sit together for math exercises. And he and Jami and Claudia like to play football during breaks. Claudia can run almost as fast as me. And the teacher says I’m doing well, gives me stars.”

“That’s great!” chirped Satya, and then softened her voice a little. “We feel that it’s good for you too. You look happier now, you’re doing better at your homework…” her voice trailed off as she sought a way to lead the conversation to the unpleasant point. Naya looked down at her hands again and went dead quiet.

“I… we all want to see you like that. To continue to see you thriving. Going well.” Satya hesitantly continued. “How do you… how did you feel when you punched Lucas today and got sent to the principal’s office?”

Satya had the distinct impression that the Naya was scrunching herself to become physically smaller, a deep frown marking her face as she tangled her fingers so tight she looked like she was praying. She tried suffocating a sob, unsuccessfully. Satya tentatively lifted her prosthetic hand to touch the child’s long hair.

“Bad.” Naya answered in a sob she was still trying to swallow. “I felt like I was g-going to die.”

“Die?” Satya leaned closer, alarmed, trying to catch Naya’s gaze somehow. “Why?”

“B-b-b…” tears fell freely on the girl’s lap now, and she inhaled sharply. “Because I felt so bad, I felt I was going to die of bad. I didn’t want... I was so angry, I just wanted him to shut up.” she finally released her hands to cover her face. “I k-knew you were going to be mad. All of you. And he started c-crying. It was bad. I didn’t w-w--”

All sobbing finally drowned her voice, and she was curled into a ball, shaking uncontrollably. Satya immediately moved closer, wrapping her arms around Naya with slow assurance, and pulling her carefully towards her chest. She began mumbling sweet nothings and let herself be taken in by the warmth between them: Naya’s thick hair intertwining with her fingers; the way the child curled up against her, holding her prosthetic hand close; the quiet kisses she placed on her forehead, hands, cheeks.

How ironic it was that this was the easiest part of being with Naya since the beginning, when she’d have such a hard time being touchy with anyone else? It felt good, though. It felt right, so she did it.

Soon enough they were both still in a cozy hug, rocking back and forth as Satya hummed some half-forgotten song from her childhood. Naya’s sobs began to subside and Satya guided her into breathing exercises to help her relax. The girl was clutching Satya’s middle like a salvation board, and the woman had to gently loosen her grip so they could look eye to eye again.

“Thank you for being honest.” whispered Satya, drying Naya’s cheeks and runny nose with her sleeve. “I’m glad that you feel like being peaceful is good. I’m sorry you couldn’t help it today, and that you felt so bad.”

“Y-yea, uh...” Naya sobbed a little, a Satya reached for a stray blanket (well, she’d have to wash them all anyway after all dragging through the floor) and had Naya blow on it before the girl could continue. “I also… didn’t want you to be mad at me, like you did.”

Satya bit her lower lip, looking at Naya endearingly. “At the beginning, I said I wanted to apologize. Do you know why?” Naya shook her head. “Because I was inconsiderate. I was frustrated and sad at what had happened, and while you should know you can’t hurt others, I should have calmed down before we talked. I didn’t give you time to calm down and process it all, and I had you scared. I’m sorry.”

Naya blinked a few times before gazing away, sniffling.

“Can you forgive me?”

She bobbed her head, but Satya frowned.

“Naya?”

Naya turned back to stare at her, a fiercely serious look in that swollen little face. She scrubbed her eyes for a moment, but when she looked up again she was spoke, decisively:

“I am sorry for hitting Lucas. Next time I’ll… I-I’ll talk to Miss L about it. Even if he laughs at me for it.” she gulped and inhaled before continuing. “I’ll tell her: ‘Miss L, Lucas is making fun of me, and I’m very angry, so I’d like to ask to go to the fountain and back again so I can calm down’. Can I do that? You told me to do that.”

Satya smiled widely, relaxing at once and fixing a stray strand of Naya’s hair. “Yes you can.”

Naya seemed relieved, and flashed a smile for a second before pursuing her lips. “I’m sorry I made you sad, too.”

Satya leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Forgiven. We’re fine now… well, after we undo the ‘cave’.” she looked around, sighing, and petted her daughter’s head. “Do not drag the mattress out of the bedframe anymore, love. Nor drag things from a room to another, unless very necessary or after you ask. I’m not very… fond… of that, okay?” she smiled to make sure Naya didn’t feel that was too important, but she was itching inside.

Naya bobbed her head without hesitation, already getting on her feet. “Okay, mom.”

She started gathering her toys right away as to show off her commitment, and was oblivious to Satya’s little choke following her words. The woman half-heartedly scolded herself for not having gotten used to being called “mom” after all these months, but she still found it hard not to feel her heart flutter a little every time.

“Also,” Naya said, carrying an entire zoo of plushie animals and looking quite grave. “I’m sorry you were forestated with me.”

Between two computer screens, Sombra heard Satya’s obnoxious snicker and Naya’s protests on cue echoing from the other side of the apartment. She smiled; it was all good.

Meri pyaari beti - My lovely daughter