#i think its a stretch to say the replies are funny most of the time but hey. thats showbiz babey

[pathetichimbos]

First Meeting - Part Two

((part one here))

((part three here))

Thomas Hewitt/GN!Reader

taglist: @goodiesinthecloset21

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You've run away from home, hitchhiking around Texas as you come up with your next plan, only to find that life has plans of its own when a simple ride with a group of friends lands you at a lone gas station in Travis County, drawn to a mysterious man most seem to avoid.

---

You let out a sigh as you exit the store, a bounce to your walk as you head in the opposite direction you came from, moving rather quickly in order to cover as much ground as possible before the dark of the night hits.

It doesn't take long before a large, familiar figure comes into view ahead, his pace much slower than your own.

Realizing your only options are to either ignore him and pass him, or slow down and accidentally look like a creep following him, you sigh and jog ahead, slowing down to match his pace as you catch up.

"Funny seeing you again," You catch him off guard, making him jump a little as he looks at you in surprise, "...Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, I just saw we were headin' the same way and I thought I'd just say hi."

He sighs, seeming to relax a bit after your mini jump scare.

"So..." You start, realizing he wasn't going to reply, "...You live out this way?"

He nods.

"Seems quiet."

Another nod.

"Kind of like you." You give another smile, shrugging, "I was always told I could talk the ear off of a dead man."

He lets out a small, humored chuckle, and you feel yourself relax a little.

Conversation begins to flow easier as the two of you walk along, with you talking about the people you'd met and the places you'd seen in the last month and a half. The more you talk, the easier it becomes to see the good in your adventure, the ache of your empty stomach and sore muscles fading into the background as you retell your stories.

“Can't say I'd be able to find it again, but man, it was a really beautiful place. I'd love to go there again.”

Thomas nods, a genuine smile on his face from hearing the way you described the lake you had found last week.

You can feel the long grass reaching its way under your jeans, scratching at your ankles as the two of you walk side by side down a narrow dirt path you had absent-mindedly followed him down.

“Maybe I will go back...” You hum a little, hands resting in your back pockets, “Can't be that hard to find, right?”

He lets out a low hum of agreement as the two of you break the clearing in the trees and a large white house slowly comes into view.

“Whoa...” You mutter as the two of you reach the porch, “You live here?”

He nods.

“Wow…” You gaze at the house. It was old, sure, the white paint peeling off, the windows dusty and missing a couple of panels, but it was huge, and absolutely gorgeous.

The worn porch swing creaks as a summer breeze slowly pushes it, and you can distinguish the faint sound of animals echoing from the barn that sat a bit further back from the house.

You look at the overgrown property and sigh before smiling at Thomas, almost sadly as you realize it was time to leave.

“Well, I guess I should–” Your words are cut off by a deep, growling sound.

The Texas sun was no match for the heat in your face as you realized the noise was coming from your stomach.

Thomas tilts his head and you quickly look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I, uh–” Southern pride keeps your mouth shut as you stumble over your words, eyes boring holes in the dirt as you try to think of an excuse.

You're pulled from your own embarrassment as a strong hand grabs your arm, pulling you up the old wooden stairs and into the house.

It was just as big on the inside, greeting you with a large hallway that stretched to the other end of the house. To your immediate right was an opening to the spacious living room, and a little further down was a staircase leading to the second story.

You, however, were directed to the left, to a small table sitting in a rather big kitchen- though it didn't seem quite as big as the living room sitting across the hall.

“N-no, it’s no problem-!” You try to protest, but he doesn't hear a word of it as his firm grip gently nudges you into a chair.

You sit there, now quietly flustered as Thomas looks through the fridge.

“Tommy what the hell are you doing!?” A new voice suddenly came from beyond the kitchen, and the owner followed in.

It was an older man, wheelchair bound and missing the bottom half of his legs. He looks to Thomas, and then to you, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face as he does so.

“Who the hell is this?”

“I, uh, I’m Y/N…” You offer, knowing Thomas doesn't speak, “I met Thomas down at the station and walked with him.”

“Does Hoyt know about this?” The man ignores you as he continues looking at Thomas.

He finally turns around, a plate covered with tin foil in hand as he shakes his head to the other man.

“Ah, shit, Thomas. I ain't dealing with this. Don't try to say I didn't warn you.” He scoffs before turning back and leaving the kitchen.

You stare at the doorway he just left through, realizing that everyone you had seen so far in this town seemed to either know or be related to Thomas in one way or another.

Perched on the old kitchen wall was a picture of the older woman from the station, though she seemed a bit younger and less grumpy. The sheriff- Hoyt, you had remembered her calling his name- had called her Mama, and the man that had just left mentioned him as well.

You wondered if they had any other family filling the rooms of this large home, though right now it seemed quiet, save for the faint echoes of a TV playing from a room you hadn't seen yet.

Thomas pushes a plate in front of you, catching your attention as he grabs a fork and hands it to you as well.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to–”

He cuts you off by tapping the table beside the plate.

You sigh, the clench of your empty stomach reminding you that you weren't going to gain anything by not eating it.

You pull back the tin foil to reveal a full meal, something you hadn’t seen in days. The food was piled up, and your mouth was practically watering at the sight. You take your first bite, the flavor exploding in your mouth and making your stomach growl again.

It had been so long since you'd had proper food, you didn't even mind that it was cold, simply excited to get something in your system.

You eat as much as you can, having to turn away over half of it after your shrunken stomach protests eating anymore.

Feeling more comfortable, you gave him a smile and thanked him again, “Did you cook that?”

He shook his head and pointed to a picture on the wall, the same picture of the station clerk that you noticed earlier.

“She's your mother?” You question, earning a nod in response.

You open your mouth to continue when a car door slams shut outside and an almost familiar voice calls out.

“Thomas!” The man screams from the front yard.

“Is that… The sheriff?” You ask, looking back to Thomas who was staring at the door, his face now grim and shoulders tense.

“Thomas, get your ass out here!” Hoyt hollers for him again.

Thomas stands from the table, another voice echoing in from the outside.

“No, no, please, let us go!” A woman screams, her voice blood curdling and scared.

You stand up as well, a worry in your voice, “Is that Katie?”

Thomas puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head, a warning.

More screaming comes from the front yard, the voices of the sheriff and Katie mixing together as they yell at each other.

Thomas tugs your arm, pulling you to the kitchen pantry. He motions for you to stay quiet before shutting the door, his fading footsteps leaving the kitchen.

You sit in the dark, heart racing as your mind tries to piece together what was happening.

The slam of the front door makes you jump as the sheriff yells again, his voice much louder and clearer as he had apparently come inside, “Goddamnit, boy, when I holler for you, that means you come!”

“Please, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I swear to God…” Katie was sobbing, you could hear it in her voice and the way she hiccupped between her words.

“Here, Tommy, put her in the kitchen. We’ll let Momma deal with her when she gets home.”

Your body seems to move on its own as you crack the pantry door open, watching Thomas drag Katie across the kitchen floor.

Blood is soaking her clothes, leaving a mess trailing behind as Thomas ties her hands to the kitchen table.

He glances up, intense eyes staring you down as he shakes his head, a silent command to shut the door.

You do as you're told, hands covering your mouth as you start to hyperventilate, adrenaline rushing your system as you start to shake.

You can hear Thomas' heavy footsteps leave the room again over Katie's crying, the table scraping the floor as she futilely pulls against her restraints.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

Your mind starts racing as you try to contemplate your options.

You could stay hidden here, sure, but for how long? What if Thomas wasn't the next person to open the door, and what would you even do if it was?

Would you take the risk and bolt? Would he even let you?

Your breathing starts to become shaky and uneven as the fear takes over your mind. You shut your eyes and lean against the door, trying to ignore the sounds of the girl on the other side.

She was crying, still, asking no one in particular, “God, why me? Why us, God, why–” She cries out, sobbing violently as her sentence is cut off with a broken sob.

After a few minutes of this, the front door opens once again, and footsteps, too soft to be Thomas' or Hoyt’s, come in.

You peer out of the door again, watching as the older woman from the gas station steps into the kitchen.

Katie notices her as well, immediately crying out, begging for help.

You watch as she stops in front of her with a sigh, “Oh, dear. What has that Hoyt done now…?” She mutters before walking past her.

She doesn't notice you as she walks out of view and comes back with a bowl of water and a rag.

“I don’t know why he always has to be so messy.” She shakes her head, gently running the rag across Katie's face.

“Please, please, let me go, please…” Katie pleads with her, only for the woman to hush her, “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, we’ve got company coming over, and you don’t want to be all dirty, do you?” She coos slightly as she finishes washing her face, “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?”

Katie sobs again, yanking at the ropes once more.

The woman ignores her, walking out of view once again, you assume to get rid of the bowl of water and now bloody rag.

You close the door again and sigh, pressing your forehead against the door as tears begin to slip down your cheeks.

What was going to happen to you?

You sit there in that pantry, silent and listening to Katie’s tears as you wait to find out.

You can hear the woman come back into the kitchen and begin making something, and eventually the whistling kettle hints at tea, or maybe even coffee. At some point another woman joined her and they both took a seat and began chit chatting.

You barely listen to their conversation, only picking up on the first woman’s name, Luda Mae. You didn’t catch the second woman’s name as they chatted casually, exchanging small talk about the weather and the tea. If it wasn’t for Katie’s crying, you’d assume nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

“Oh, here, let me go get you some from the pantry.” Luda Mae's voice pulls you from your thoughts as you listen to her shuffling footsteps come closer and closer.

Your heart stops and sinks all at once and you feel sick realizing what was about to happen.

You push yourself away from the door, holding your bag in front of you as if it could somehow keep you hidden, silently pressing yourself against the back shelves as you brace yourself.

The door handle starts to turn.

A feeling of complete helplessness settles in as the door swings open.

Your eyes screw shut as light floods the pantry, waiting for the worst possible outcome as you shake, holding your measly bag in front of you.

"Please..." You mutter, whether it be to her or to a God or yourself, you don't know, "Don't hurt me..."

[bloodykora]

If you’re still doing Buggy headcanons: Sooo I always actually thought big noses on people are INCREDIBLY attractive. Give me men with noses that look just a bit too beaten up, women with noses that are big and wide, give me Roman noses and hawk noses and any unconventionally attractive nose and I am SWOONING.

… I feel the prompt almost writes itself at this point, what would Buggy think of someone who sees his funny looking nose not as a flaw but a mayor charm point and just constantly gives it kisses, traces it affectionately, boops it or comments (in all honesty and absolutely genuinely) how handsome and distinguished it makes him look, how it really suits him etc?

Wanna read about that man bluescreening because he hasn’t even treathened them yet to not make fun of his nose and they are already at the „flattering him to save themself“ stage? What do you MEAN you’re not saying that to safe yourself?!

This fucking anon/ask made me giggle so much, I literally showed it to my friends. I hope I did you and the prompt justice!

Enter the moment in Annie where Ms. Hannigan sees Warbucks’ diamond and goes “Oh my god, is that thing real?!” in shock but also delight. Me at that dude’s honker. (I want to be put on his nose like he has gangrene and I’m a leech who sucks on it to get the blood flow going) Also enter the Doja Cat quote of liking big noses.

- At first, dude is fucking weirded out. People have made comments and jokes about this stupid little red thing on his face and you… you think it’s attractive??? Huh.

- Definitely thinks you’re lying at first (and for the next few months), you’re literally the only person who is able to shut him up.

- Curtain drops, spot light is on, the blue haired clown walks in. Blabbering on about how his entrance should be more enthusiastic, but you got your eyes on your own prize, bright big red nostrils. If he wants an entrance, you’ll give him one by starting to clap loudly, getting so giddy that you start slightly hopping.

- “Oh my goodness, that is just.” Loss for words. “Are you making fun of me?” He approaches you, you hear him but his words don’t really seep into your brain at the moment. “It’s gorgeous, literally the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Your eyes are locked with his eyes and before he can even reply you reach up to brush your fingertip against his nose.

- Wants you dead first, no one has gotten close to touching it in years. And you, a low life nobody insults him like that. You get strung up immediately, your arm stretched so your fingers are out.

- “For that little ploy, I’ll take your fingers first and then your life.” Yes you’re scared but really could you regret it? This was the pirate’s life. “Oh, darn. Well, I’ll at least die happily. My eyes set on the most lovely nose I’ve seen in my years of life.”

- Thinks you’re still making fun of him until a few compliments later it clicks in his head that you mean it, with no hint of sarcasm or mockery. He lets you down, immediately ordering his crew to take care of the others you came with while he returns (runs) to his quarters. He’s a little intrigued by you, willing to die for a graze of his face. He keeps you as well, not that you’re upset by it.

- Crew thinks you’re hilarious, stopping a task to gaze longingly at the captain until either he realizes in which he shoos you back to work or he walks away. You boost his ego a ton though.

- From a distance he can ignore the thoughts he knows you’re thinking but up close, when they’re said in front of the crew, other pirates, hostages. He’s been known to cover your mouth with something so he doesn’t freeze up. When yall get together though, its game over.

- The first time you licked it, he almost saw some form of god. The angel's chorus was in his ears and he couldn’t help but say a little prayer in his head about you.

- Kissing it at least 3 times a day for good luck, rubbing up and down the bridge to soothe him to sleep, nipping at it when you feel playful. Not to mention he now has your voice in his head if he ever insults it going: “That’s not true! It is like one of the top 3 of the things I love about you and if you are mean to it again then I’m gonna cut it off and keep it all day!”

- Laying in his bed just watching him go about the day when you drop a “If my memory was wiped tomorrow I hope I’d get to keep at least the picture of your nose in my head.” before just turning over and going to rest. You hear him physically stop in his tracks and then a thud, he had let go of a boot.

- He doesn’t ever want to ask for praise about his nose on the days where he feels more insecure but you can tell by the way he rubs it on your collarbone and shoulder. You immediately pull out the good old “Have I told you how dashing attractive your nose is today? I seriously would just hop on and ri-” he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, cutting you off with a kiss knowing where it’s going.

- If anyone comments on his nose, you are the first to bite back. Threatening to cut out their tongue and string it up for future people to understand their place. Then squish Buggy while speaking highly of his stunning feature and how lucky they are to see it in the first place.

- You’re kinda crazy but hey, so is Buggy and he loves that you’re insane about him and his nose.

[btnclmrttn]

02. Bondage/Ghost (Simon Riley)

((cw: 18+, oral f.recieving, fingering, dirty talk, vaginal sex, afab gender neutral reader, 2.7k word count my bad, a shitty innuendo pun))

(Ghost gives you a private training lesson in escape tactics. He didn't expect failure to be on his own behalf...)

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“Now remember while you’re being timed,” Ghost says to you, “only one other person was able to get out of this their first attempt. Don’t get on your own nerves over a practice run.”

“Was it you, L.T?”

You question the man behind you, securing your wrists together against the thick post you rest your back on as you’re sitting on the floor. Despite being unable to see, you can feel how sturdy this knot is getting with how Ghost takes his time with it. Not quite cutting circulation, but damn close.

“No. That’s why I’m showing you.”

As far as you know, he’s given this particular lesson to a few people. You wonder if you can figure out who it could’ve been. That’s if he even means this specific squad. Still, in an odd way this is how he seems to be looking out for his team.

He seems finished with your wrists as he stands, walking around to the front of you with his remaining rope and kneeling in front of your feet. You watch how quick he works with his large hands wrapping the rope around your ankles and securing a tight knot. This one doesn’t seem to be as complex as the one around your wrists.

“Right. All set?”He walks off to the wall in front of you to lean himself against it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Start.”

By instruction, you’re off to a start by getting a feel for what you’re working with. The binds on your wrists are tight, sturdy enough to question its material. You can hardly even twist your wrist in them without your skin rubbing harshly against it. It does feel like your ankles aren’t as secure as your wrist. Might be for practice sake.

If that’s as easy as he’s going at you, you’re feeling a rough time coming on. You’re putting your focus on your ankles; winding your legs about to stretch and loosen the rope. Hardly can you even shift an ankle higher than the other with how tight it is.

Your ear manages to catch an amused grunt from Ghost as he watches on. Does he find this funny? Possibly. It would fit his strange humor. You probably are looking like some amature that forgot all their previous training.

“What, am I taking too long?” You joke.

Ghost turns his wrist up to look at the watch he’s using to keep your time.

“Gettin’ close to dead,” he replies before folding his arm back in with the other and refocusing on you.

You can appreciate his little humor in this. It makes you a little less irritated with yourself. It’s starting to feel a bit embarrassing how much you're struggling vainly to kick just one boot off to get just the bind at your ankle.

Ghost, on the other hand, isn’t seeing it that way at all. He knows he has skill in this department of tying people up for interrogation and other means. Another use of this is starting to creep into his mind as he watches you struggle. Oh, this is shit timing. While he can consciously force himself to think otherwise, it isn't preventing the building heat in his stomach just watching you this way.

“Shallow grave been dug about now,” his voice breaks the silence again as he attempts more humor for his own sake. At least it gets a little laugh out of you.

Finally, the ankle of your boot is loose enough to kick off. Thank god for the small favors. You work on shoving your other boot off your heel to make more slack on the rope. As your other boot kicks off your foot, it takes most of the rope down with it, leaving you able to kick it off and start pushing yourself to stand up against the post.

“Halfway there,” He nods approvingly as he sits up from the wall he once leaned on.

A position like that wouldn’t leave you much option but to just take it, huh? Could you take Ghost like that, with a rough and merciless force? Or would you have to beg him to take it easy? You couldn’t even-Fucking hell, Simon, cut it out.

He creeps around you in a slow pace while he examines all angles of you. Yet progress isn't the thing on his mind anymore. It's wandering around the things he could do to you. The things that he could make you feel. It cycles around his head like a broken record.

Jesus Christ.

You wouldn't even be able to hide your face from him. Or cover your mouth if you start whining too loudly. Just all in his mercy...

You can feel his gaze raising the hairs of your neck as you attempt to focus on getting free. The twisting and tugging of your wrists don’t feel like they’re making them any more loose. He sure can tie a damn knot. You're still trying to focus on the task at hand despite feeling how Ghost's gaze burns into you. His undivided attention is making you feel a bit intimidated. Not necessarily bad...but nerve wrecking.

Fuck. He can feel his dick start getting harder from his gutter mind. This is an awful time for this. He remains out of your sight as clears his throat to speak up, his possible last attempt to regain himself.

“Need a tip?”

A grunt of irritation slips from you, “If you’re offering, Sir…”

“Well you’re already on the right track. Not much I can say other than remaining patient.”

A frustrated sigh escapes your nose as you let your head fall back, sort of relaxing your tenseness. It was a strangely calm tone coming from your Lieutenant. You’re unable to see the kind of look he has in his eyes as he watches you from behind, but you know he’s watching. After a pause of thought, you start trying a different move to loosen the tight bond from your wrists.

Ghost can hardly stand watching you like this anymore. You really are struggling. He knows he might have to end up letting you loose himself. It would be an awful shame letting such a good knot get cut up and wasted.

“I might have another tip for ya,” he mutters. Ghost circles around from behind to stand directly in front of you, and rather close.

“Do you, L.T?”

To your surprise, his left hand wraps its fingers around the buckle of your belt. It lifts you up off your feet and lifts you higher on the post before his pelvis pins you in place. His hands are now free to grab your legs and lift them to the sides of his hips. You feel a defined bump in the crotch of Ghost’s pants that press against you.

He looks down into your eyes, speaking in a hushed tone, “Would you like it?”

You feel a dryness in your throat as you swallow while looking up at your lieutenant, your mind going completely blank. This is what his mind was getting at? You can clearly see the arousal in his eyes now that he's up close. The same eyes that currently are studying you face for any sign of rejection here. The only thing you’re clearly able to process is the feeling of heat swimming rapidly through your body and a rock hard cock pressing against your cunt.

Without a thought in your head to go by, you speak for your body.“I would…”

One of his hands releases a thigh to pull his mask over his face and drop it to the floor, “That’s what I thought.”

Simon leans in close, letting his lips gently brush against yours as his thumb hooks around the tongue of your belt and pulls it free, snaking it from around your waist and dropping it to the floor as well. You take the initiative and lock your lips with his. He’s more than just eager to taste you. Simon follows your motions as best as he’s able with his stronger excitement, only growing as your slow and soft lips tease the thoughts brewing in his head.

While he continues to keep up with your kissing, his hips start to roll and grind his hard-on into your crotch. A groan buzzes against your lips as Simon takes pleasure in the friction he’s been growing a need for. The kiss breaks when he goes in for your neck.

Saliva hits your skin before his lips do. He couldn’t stop himself from drooling over the scent of you before he got to you. You feel yourself lowered back down to your feet with Simon kneeling to your level. Teeth graze up along the side of your neck with sloppy kisses as his hands roam, sliding under your shirt and tracing patterns on your sides with his fingertips. One of his hands decides to tease your chest with feather touches on your nipple.

He acts as if you’re slipping away from him with the way he keeps you so close, even when you’re restrained like this. Hips grinding roughly into you as he marks your tender skin with love. The sensations building together are making soft sighs slip your lips while a throbbing grows between your legs. Simon's hands are sliding lower, lower, his lips moving to your stomach to scatter more marks. The button of your pants is undone.

He doesn’t have the patience to take your pants off completely. Simon is already on his knees lapping the sticky trail pooling juices up from your folds before your underwear fully drops to your knees. His eager tongue grazes your entrance slowly, slathering your clit in your own cream. A growl of satisfaction rumbles in the throat of the man between your legs as he repeats the motion. He shoves tongue deeper between your folds, then sucks your lingering sweetness off your throbbing bud. Your thighs jolt in response, making his grip around them more firm.

Simon starts taking your clit in his mouth, swirling and flicking around it before letting it slip from his lips with a pop. His tongue dives back in again to your hole, back up to your clit and again;desperate to keep you satisfied enough to quench his growing thirst for your pussy. He’s not shy about his shameless and greedy behavior. There’s an undoubtable look of hunger in his focused gaze.

“God, you taste amazing,” Simon groans under his breath. Your pants are tugged down to your ankles and removed, getting tossed to the side somewhere while the hand gripping your thigh lifts it onto his shoulder for better access.

He maneuvers his other hand between your legs, tracing your dripping cunt with two fingers as he keeps your clit in his mouth. Your breathing picks up as one of his thick fingers slides in and immediately starts working in deep circular motions. A swelling feeling begind to build in your lower stomach as Simon keeps his tongue working. By reflex your arms start to tug at your restraints to no avail as your whining becomes harder to just let out in quiet sighs.

“Mm…what a fucking mess you’re making…”

A second finger slips into your cunt. Simon watches you with an amused gaze as you shake under the pleasure, moaning and squirming with your eyes shut tight before he goes back in with his mouth. His fingers shove themselves deep in your slick hole and curl upwards as they drag back out all while his tongue flicks against your clit. The shaking from your legs is making them buckle underneath the pleasure of the pressure in your stomach. Simon’s grip on your thigh holds your steady enough to stand for his tongue torture.

The fingers suddenly slowing to a stop halt the building pressure. Your eyes fully open to Simon sucking your juices from his fingers as he lets your thigh down.

“Simon–” you whimper out.

He keeps eye contact as he stands while pulling the tongue of his belt out, tugging it off his waist and popping the button of his pants open. His thick cock springs up as soon as his pants drop lower, unrestricted from any underwear. It's aching for relief.

“I want you to cum on my dick, _____.”

You keep your eyes on him as his hands grab hold of your ass and lift you up to level him better. The anticipation in your chest swells as his tip grazes your wet cunt while you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to you. That thick cock of his takes its time stuffing itself into your throbbing pussy that greedily swallows him to the hilt. Simon’s grip on your ass tightens as the hot sensation sucks him in with a low growl.

“You alright?” He asks for your permission to move.

At your given signal, an eager nod, that once faded pressure in your stomach starts to build again with Simon’s slow grinding. It’s just perfect to adjust yourself to his thick girth, but god, is it almost torture for Simon. He’s still much more excited than you. His thoughts are swirling around how you would look taking a real pounding from his cock. All this potential to just ruin you right in his hands is almost too much.

The only thing keeping him is how sweet your little sounds are from his slow, sensual movement. He keeps himself close enough to bump noses, warm your face with his deep sighs, and occasionally lips catching for a quick embrace. Between your mewling, Simon’s name slips from your lips, making the man’s stomach flutter with the way it sounds from you.

“Fuck me…” he curses to himself as he dips his head into the crook of your neck, taking his lips against your skin once more to leave darker love marks, “you look so good takin’ my cock like this…”

Simon readjusts the position to hold you up better by pushing your knees up to your chest and letting the post support your back more as he holds you up. The new angle makes his cock drive deeper, grinding just right into your spot and ramming into your cervix. That first thrust hits so good it makes you yelp.

Oh, is Simon just starving for just that sound.

"Yeah? You like that?"Simon draws out his pace, but starts slamming his hips into you harder, "Just like that?"

He relishes in watching your face wash over with more pleasure as he fucks those beautiful sounds out of your mouth. He doesn’t give a shit if you’re getting so loud. The sounds of you echoing off the walls of the room are driving him insane.

“Mmhm…tell me how you like it,” he growls in your ear, pressing his cheek against yours to listen to your needy whimpers as close as he can.

“s-so good, Simon–”

The sound of your stutter slurring over itself pushes Simon to pick up a rougher pace with you. It’s just what he wanted to hear. You getting fucked so close into an incohearant mess. He wants more. He wants his ears filled with nothing but the loud sounds of slapping, wet skin and your whorish cries. He can feel your pussy getting tighter around him, sucking him back in more and more.

“You’re gonna cum on this dick for me, love? That what I'm hearin'?”

Between your quivering screams of pleasure, you can’t give Simon a verbal answer. The pressure inside your stomach pops like a balloon, with each of Simon’s thrusts milking a mess of sap that spills all between your legs. The scent of your messy juices is enough to make his mouth water. It pushes him completely overboard.

“F-Fuck–yeah, that’s it—fuck—”

He shuts his eyes tight as he allows himself a few more seconds inside your throbbing pussy before he pulls himself out. Ropes of cum shoot on your inner thigh and on your lower stomach while groans of ecstasy rumble in his throat. Your shaking legs are held up just barely by Simon’s own trembling hands. His cock slowly rubs against your soaked pussy to draw your orgasms out.

“Christ…____…you still stuck?"

Through your attempts to catch your breath, you manage to say, “Take a wild guess, Simon.”

“Oh, real shame…” he responds, “I’ll let you have your own wild guess on what will happen when I choose not to cut ya loose…”

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[fumblingmusings]

Lukewarm Coffee and Plum Rice Pudding

Absolutely pure schmop for USUK. Alfred needs a break. Arthur is making old man dessert. They are both tired and more than a little in love. Very chaste romance below, just stretching writing muscles in the present tense. Enjoy!

Arthur’s house is small. It is small, old, and smells of syrup and plums. When Alfred inquires as to why, England gives him a very funny look, as if the other man is as stupid as Arthur’s frequent insults suggest. He simply states that if Alfred cared to look in the kitchen, he would see the vat bubbling away on the hob. 

America ponders how he is to do such a thing, considering he is still standing on England’s porch. 

He says as much, and Arthur scrunches his nostrils. There is dirt, America notes, on the bridge of said nose. Most likely mud from the garden (for where else would the plums have come from?), the result of Arthur rubbing his skin, perpetually sniffing as if he has a cold. Alfred suspects it is something akin to hay fever and it would go away if Arthur bothered to take something as simple as an antihistamine. He wouldn’t, of course, because Arthur refuses to take anyone’s advice, no matter its practicality. 

Alfred remains under the tiny portico.

“Are you going to let me in? It’s cold.”

“It’s fifteen.”

Alfred nods, as if that number means anything to him. (It does, when he thinks about it for longer than a second. He tries often to not do so).

Still, Arthur steps back, muttering something about making Alfred take off his muddy shoes and leave them at the door. England then disappears down the tight hallway, turning left behind the stairs and returning to his kitchen. The sound of a radio station playing, some odd indie music, seems to be coming from the area.

Alfred follows his nose and ears, and sure enough, a rather large pot is bubbling away, making a sticky sound when Arthur goes to stir. Not burnt. Yet. Arthur lowers the volume of his radio, the announcer declaring it to be one of the multiple BBC channels. There were six?! More?

America drops his weekend bag on the wooden chair sticking out from the round table, then plants himself into the second chair. An excessive amount of crocheted placemats and coasters litter the small surface, and he is unable to help himself from picking one up and inspecting. Perfect, as always.

The silence seems to stretch on. With any other time that Alfred would drop by unannounced, he would be talking Arthur’s ear off. As it is, Arthur notes how utterly melancholic the boy appears to be.

Turning off the heat, Arthur moves the pot to the countertop, pouring the simmering fruit into a large glass bowl. It splatters as he does so, and the contact stings his bare wrists.

His loud, emphatic fuck makes Alfred start, look up from the table and across the cluttered room. Arthur is shaking his arm, as if trying to fling the stinging pain out of his limb.

“Careful,” America says unhelpfully.

The replying glare and bull-like snort are somewhat good-humoured, so Alfred manages a smile.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asks, turning to his sink to cool down the splatter. Alfred watches, quiet.

“Wanted to visit,” Alfred replies. He hears Arthur chuff to himself. 

“Wanna coffee?” England asks instead of acknowledging Alfred’s answer.

“Not instant?”

“No. In the French press. I’ll need to microwave it up though.”

America sucks on his tongue, then nods his assent.

“Sure.”

Arthur fills up one of his floral mugs two thirds of the way, then goes to the fridge. He pauses, the door open and his face hidden from view.

“Warm or cold milk?”

“Cold.”

“Weird boy…” but still, Arthur does as bid, pulling out a carton and throwing the mug in the microwave for just over a minute. He returns to his bowl of plums, then inspects Alfred again.

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long will you stay?”

“Oh. Until I get found out?”

England’s green eyes spark with glee. “You’re being naughty?”

Alfred’s smile grows, hearing the childish naughtiness that always manages to leak through Arthur’s prim and proper exterior. There was nothing Arthur enjoyed more than a good deception, a practical joke, being a general annoyance. Was it any surprise such traits were also found in Alfred?

When Arthur’s face lit up, when that veneer of bored politeness cracked… Alfred was reminded why people actually tolerated (or worse, loved) Arthur. Alfred would only ever whisper it in the dead of night when he was sure Arthur was not listening. Confessing sincerely and earnestly on how much England had never truly been extracted from America.

More than once, Arthur had in fact, not been asleep, and Alfred had become ashamed to even look the man in the eye for the next three days. 

Unabashed openness was a rarity in Arthur too, both in joy, and indeed in love. It was much more his style to simply open his home, offer a drink, and try to be useful. A land of such beautiful words and poets struggles to speak plainly at times, hiding behind inferences, suggestions and looks that Alfred only ever caught in candid photographs or mirror reflections. 

Truly, they were as bad as each other. And yet they understood.

“I needed a break,” Alfred finally confesses.

Arthur waves him over, not commenting on his reasoning. “I’m making rice pudding for the plums. You can help. Make yourself useful.”

America could have kissed Arthur. Not for the gift of rice pudding; Alfred feels it is slop - unpleasant in texture and lacking in any flavour - but for Arthur’s immediate understanding. The time of a nation was valuable, and often they were used as endless free labour. It could be physical (Ivan’s railway construction came to mind), but for people like Alfred and Arthur, it was bureaucracy. An office intern with no voice in policy and yet expected to enact decisions to carry them through.

Arthur learned long ago how to bite back; his own workaholic nature would take care of the punishing hours, no effort required from Downing Street whatsoever. Alfred, the perpetual people pleaser, had experienced varied results. 

Some years are better than others.

Arthur understands and seems very content - proud even - of his ability to be a bulwark for Alfred. More than once, he has slammed the door shut in the face of some silly-looking man in a suit demanding the world’s superpower to get in the black car.

Arthur knows when not to prod. Some things he will not let drop, badgering and arguing until Alfred cracks. Other times, he will do as he is doing in that moment - hearing the unsaid and knowing exactly what needs to be done.

A distraction, a comfort, an indulgence.

“There’s condensed milk in the pull-out cupboard. Two cans.”

The ping of the microwave leads to Arthur bustling around the tiny kitchen. There is a pile of dishes waiting to be washed in the basin and sticky surfaces of spilt sugar and fruit juice. Arthur hums to himself as he works, matching the quiet radio and its dreamlike rhythms.

Alfred places the cans squarely on the counter, then lays his chin on Arthur’s shoulder, right at the junction of his neck. The warm breath that he exhales visibly causes Arthur to shiver.

Not exactly looking back at America, Arthur raises a hand up to run his fingers through the boy’s golden hair.

“Your coffee’ll get cold,” England gently chides.

Alfred hums, only to wrap his arms around Arthur. England’s cool hands (so perfect for baking those cursed scones) hold on to one of Alfred’s own, the other petting him softly. 

“Big baby,” Arthur murmurs right into Alfred’s ear. “Rest up. You’re home now.”

Once, perhaps not too long ago, Alfred would have bitten back an angry and spiteful retort, but now it was not so. Home was an idea, a feeling, many places and many people. His glamorous and large apartment in New York; his ranch in Texas with his wonderful horses; sitting in Montreal with Mattie watching the Canadiens lose to Tampa Bay for the Stanley Cup final (both of them drunk for differing reasons). 

Holding on to Arthur like a buoy in the man’s tired and cluttered kitchen, a lukewarm coffee on a dirty counter, an excessive amount of boiled fruit cooling in a bowl.

Home.

[pandoraintheevening]

You (might of) asked so I shall deliver

Not my proudest work, but my teacher liked it so (shrugs).

This place was one of the best and worst times of my life and even though that’s an oxymoron, I stand by my opinion. When I remind myself of this time I don’t know if I should smile or frown and if I do smile guilt swarms in me in small trickling amounts. And after a while of sitting in a small but deep lake, a raging storm would come with all its fury and to my demise I have never been able to control it. Welton Academy was and still is one of the most prestigious boys boarding schools in America. Even when the popularity of these types of schools lowered it somehow won many swooning parents to still send their sons here. Its high standard on tradition and order makes my stomach knot, as it used to do way more frequently before, and its high praise of academic success makes Michael, my son, somehow turn into those swooning parents. My weighted opinion on Welton Academy makes many question why I would allow my son to come here in the first place, but not to my surprise he has never been like me. His drive and personality has always never resembled my own, but when I look at him I see myself physically. Michaels oak blonding hair and wavering blue eyes remind me way too closely of mine. And as the car begins to draw nearer to Welton I feel my heart rate begin to accelerate. 

A gentle hand falls down onto my knee and that's when I realise my leg has been bouncing. Without really thinking it settled, but my heart is still pounding through my heavy chest, begging to break free and run off somewhere to hide. Still looking at the road in the corner of my eye, I turn my head over.

I turn to see her.

This warming, but delighted smile raideating. And we stare for what feels like hours.

After what was more of a second she jokingly rolled her eyes and nudged her hand to move my gaze back on the gravel road. “Both of you stop with the bouncing or you might launch us up to the moon quicker than Neil Armstrong on Apollo 11.” Elaine scolds us in a joking tone. I hear Michael say one of his hilarious witty replies that Elaine somehow has her own to reply with. But one thing in that sentence made my stomach clench and I can’t wrap my head around how funny it was for her to say it now.

Neil.

Neil Armstrong.

Neil Perry.

I focus back on the gravel road.

***

After the long treacherous opening mass I slip away to one of the hallways and begin walking awe on what has changed and what has stayed the same. Apart from some refinishing, practically everything is the same. The yellowish glow of the warm light that I feel when exams start and the long red carpet that runs through certain sections of the school. 

Everything feels the same. 

It all feels so similar but in a peculiar way.

These weaving hallways that remind me of those very brief, but intoxicating moments that I have framed in walls of my mind. Chills that have swept me up into clouds that aren’t too high that I can’t come down, it’s just that I choose not to. As I kept walking over I finally reached the glass box that stands in its proudful way. Photos of the boys that think that there are already men. Trophies that still allow you to hear the victores roar. 

Dozens of smiling faces once my own.

In a crowded hallway that I once called home.

Wishful thinking on their minds.

Lucid dreaming that makes us blind.

Now that I look into the past,

Oh how much I wished I made it last.

Years ago I stood here in my first English class with Mr Keating and many then thought it might be foolish to do this, but I believed him. Even if it was only a mere second it felt like it was stretched. It was one of the moments that bleed into each other to allow more time for these moments. This might allow us more time to acquire more meaning from them or maybe just so we could understand a little more about them. I didn’t know it then, but Mr Keattings classes were one of the many reasons I would find that year to not end it all. A pull of some sort began tugging me closest to something and for some reason I just followed, allowing the universe to lead me to what it wanted me to find. This was something I learnt that year as well and it wasn’t what Mr Keating taught me, but what a bright, spirit full boy that I still look up to did. Neli Perry.

Mr Keating might have told us to make our lives extraordinary, but Neli was the one that taught me how to act upon it. Wishful thinking wasn’t going to make dreamscapes that plagued your mind, living would. And finding the very core passion that brought you the most fulfilment was important. It was just I didn’t know what living was when all I could think of was the face and breath of death. Calling me in any chance I had freedom in. And even when I was happy he would leave traces and prints everywhere around me. 

“Hello.” Michale’s voice or was it Neils?

“Dad, are you okay?” Michales.

I don’t look over instead I just stare at the photo in front of me. All these boys that I knew nearly nothing about, but also so much. “Do you see this photo? And that boy, close to the back with the brow hair.” I ask him almost choking with the invisible sock down my throat “There’s like four of them?” Michael replied strangely concerned. “Right corner, two boys to the left. Do you know his name?”

“Sorry, no.”

“What is your full name Michale?” I ask, finally looking over at him. His puzzled face looking at me waiting to answer, strangely scared he’ll mess up. “What’s your full name?”

“Michale Neil Anderson.”

“Neli, do you know why we had Neli as your middle name?”

“When I was young, you told me it was to do with Neil Armstrong, but that wouldn’t make any sense since I was born two years before they landed on the moon-” I cut him off because if I didn’t he might possibly start talking about carrots before he finally got to his point. “Neli Perry is the name of that boy, and he was extraordinary. He was so passionate and soulful and you very much remind me of him, Michael. That used to hurt me when you were young, but I began to learn to never be hung up on things, but one thing is all I ask from you. Not A’s for every class, but find what makes your life extraordinary and pursue it.” 

Michael nods, but his look is still puzzled, “Did you do that?” 

I tilted my head and returned his puzzled look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Did you find what makes your life extraordinary?”

A grin. I’m grinning. “Yes, I very much did.”

Me and Elaine said our goodbyes to Michael and all the fears that wrong would occur melted off like ice in fire. And to my surprise my cheeks weren’t just dry, but hurted. Was I grinning that much that they began to hurt? Michael is nothing like me, but we’re also so similar. His heart is so full of optimism which isn’t fully like mine, but one that I see everyday that makes me think ‘That is my son’ is the dreamlike wonder he brings around. 

***

After saying our goodbyes I told Elaine to head off before me, still staring at the dozens of shining faces behind walls of glass, keeping them pure, young, and persevered. Stilling in time watching the new and old as they move along the halls that they once did. Not really looking at the time I stood there, blocking everything like the drawing also did.

“Anderson!” A call behind me yells. Jumping I turned behind me to see who it was, a face so familiar with a growing smile. “Nawanda?” the name came in a question, not his first name or last, but his name.

“Yes.” He laughed with a grin, “Nawanda is I.” Charlie Dalton seemed the same with his childish grin and confident nature. “How are you Todd, didn’t know you were going to come.” He walks over patting my back with a firm hand.

“Parden?” 

“The letter, the one Knox sent out? Didn’t you get it?”

I shook my head, my gaze travelling back to the glass. Charlie speaks again,“We’re meeting in town tomorrow, the four of us, well five if you wanted to come to. What do you say Anderson?” 

I can see his reflected face on the glass. I wanted to decline and say some lame excuse, but then I saw Nelis' framed face smiling with such gratitude and I replied with,“Where?”

***

Downstreet Cafe wasn’t even on Downstreet, it was on the bend near it. Close, but not close enough, my father would say that about me and my brothers, grades, sport, anything that didn’t meet his eye he would shoot down with a, ‘not close enough’. 

Downstreet Cafe had an apparent warm glow even from the outside, just peering in, it looked warm. It was close to spring so it may just be the temperature, but I began to grow hotter as I grew closer to opening the engraved door. Do they even want me here? Is this a good idea? Maybe I should leave. Thoughts circled me into a corner, the handle of the door staring into me.

The door suddenly opened, the surprise almost making me fall. A girl with dark brown hair and green peering eyes stares at me with confusion, but surprise.“Umm…Sir it’s a push if you didn’t know.” A tilt of her head, questioning something.

How long was I standing there?

“I’m sorry, I almost lost my senses there. Thank you.”

She nods and steps aside to allow me in. Inside the cafe it was more earthy, with yellow lighting shining through the many lamps. I began wandering through the cafe, taking the whole room in. This would be lovely to write about, hell, draw, I should write it down, sketch it.

As I was about to grab my black cover binded book a yell from across the room reached me. “Todd, you made it inside!” Nawanda. Charlie.

I give a small shy wave, walking over to the booth they're all in. “Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding or something.” 

“No, no, no. Sit down, sit down, it’s fine Todd, no need to worry.” Pitts. He’s here too.

Of course he would be what am I saying all of them are here Charlie said that already. Calm, no need to keep thinking so quickly.

“Didn’t know if you knew how doors worked. Just stood and stared at it.” They all laughed at what Charlie said, and I thought it was funny too. I laughed.

“I forgot if I knew as well.” Did I just make a joke? They all laughed though, so it must have been funny. My chest fills with this type of pride that makes me want to make them all laugh once again. Is this why Charlie likes to make jokes?

“So Mr Best selling author, nice of you to allow you in your presence.” Knox…I think at least. “Charlie tells me you didn't get my letter.” I did get it, never opened it. 

“I probably did, maybe got lost in the mail.” I shrug and my eyes fall back to their favourite place. The palms of my hands. When I was homeschooled by my mother, she would set time for me to learn social skills. Keeping eye contact was one of them and it was always the one I struggled with most. 

“Well it doesn’t matter no more, you’re here aren’t you.” Charlie says patting my back once again. All of them looked older, their prominent features the same. Meeks glasses, Pitts height, ect. Just like the school, it looked the same. It felt the same, it just aged, it just grew.

Knox, knocking on the table with his hand that held a ring. “So, Mr Keating left us something, in his will. It was a box, apparently one of us knew the code to open it. He apparently told us, does anyone know about it.”

Mr Keating, dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

Neil’s dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

The funny part is that I think I know the code. But I was too scared to say it. So I didn’t.

***

As I eat dinner alone tonight, since Elaine is with her sisters I begin thinking of the Why.

The question of Why hasn’t plagued my mind as much as it did when we all first found out. 

In the winter of 1959, the night of Neli’s play of Mid-sumers night's dream, I and the rest of the boys rode in silence as Mr Ketting drove us back to school. The sinking feeling in my gut strengthened. Worries have always consumed me, the fear of reaching disappointment and dissatisfaction not to myself but to others was apparent since I was young. All I knew was that I couldn’t possibly see Neil’s bed empty, I couldn’t possibly go into that room. Fortunately Mr Keating called on me to stay and talk to him.

“All right boys, all of you should get some rest now except you Mr Anderson, come talk to me for a moment.” The gentle, but sad way he spoke to us made my stomach ache in its worst faze yet. The very ripe lingering of  pomegranate seeds drawed me closer to Mr Keating and for some odd reason I followed it. “Come with me Todd, I have something I wanted to give you and the other boys. I just wanted to pass it through you first.”

He led me through the teachers' dormitories and stopped at one near the middle. “Come in, Anderson and sit down.” The room was a comfortable size, books and papers laid on all possible surfaces, some with the bottom rims of coffee or tea printed on them. Candles scattered around, looked as if he had forgotten that he put them there. A vase of dried flowers sat on a round table near the room, pink small flowers, I feel I saw them before. “Butterfly weed, Mr Anderson. Pretty aren’t they?” 

I nod, “Butterfly weed, it means Let me go.”

Looking up to see his candle lit face I see the orange yellow hews moving as he sets it on the table. Mr Keating’s expression made the knot in my stomach tighter. So tight it feels like only a thread is holding it together. “One to admire the plants, Mr Anderson? One to search the meaning of every word a symbol gives is something you have the nick for.”

Mr Keating looks up as he begins shuffling on a chair. “Sit down.”

I do as he asks, still a little dazed about what he wanted. Looking at his desk that separates us, the look of organised chaos of more papers and books soothes me. The only thing that sets apart is the lamp and a photograph of a young woman. “She’s…pretty.” I break the silence, nodding over to the gold framed photo. “Yes, she’s also in England.” His expression looked like he had said this before. Looked as if it made him more confused than sad. “She sent the butterfly flowers.” I said it more like it was a statement than a question, blurting it out without meaning it too. Slightly moving his gaze away from the frame, his eyebrows knitted. “Yes, how could you tell? Tell me, Mr Anderson, how only looking at two things in my room could you piece things together?” It felt as if he was doing the same as me, observing the slight things makes you hunger for more, for meaning, for stories.

“As you said before, I do have the nick for finding meanings.” 

Mr Keating  smiles, no, grins.

“Well then Todd, I wanted to ask you about your writing. Neli says you write a lot. How is it?” He pours two cups of tea as he asks, focusing on both the question and pouring the steaming liquid. “Writing?”

“Yes, have you been writing much?” 

“Sure.” I say playing with my fingers, cracking them, pulling them, distracting myself. Mr Keating’s gaze was still strong on me, waiting.“It was your birthday a month ago, am I right.” My response was a simple nod. “Did your friends give you anything?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.”

“Why is that the case Todd?”

“I didn’t tell them sir.”

“Todd…friendship is a two way street. You won’t get anywhere if one knows more about the other. Let your friends know you.” We were both silent.

“I told Neli.”

“Yeah…talk more to Neli. He’s a good friend.”

I nod. “Was there anything else sir?”

“Ahh, yes.” He stands to pick up a book. It’s small, it could fit in a large coat pocket. The cover was black and a brown piece of rope tied it close, to keep it together. “This is for you, hopefully you will write your thoughts. I believe that even if you can’t say what you think, you could still write them down. The book will hopefully prevent you from wanting to rip the pages out.”

I look up, his last sentence slightly shocking me. 

“Take the book now. Keep it safe for me, it says the date I gave it to you, write something down for me tonight. And once you finish the book, write the end date.” I nod, taking the book with two hands. “Have a good night Mr Anderson.”

I stood up and walked to the door, “You too Mr Keating.” I stop. “Thank you.”

***

Walking to my room, the first thing I do is open up the page and begin to write.

Dear Neil Perry,

You were amazing on stage tonight. Everyone thought the same, Charlie was probably the most quiet I have ever seen him. The way spoke and moved across the stage showed the passion you poured into it. It was extraordinary. Utterly extraordinary.

The smile and you had when we clapped at the end reminded me of the time I stumbled into you practising in our dorm. All I knew when I walked in and you finished was to clap. You smiled just like that, maybe even bigger. You picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper in my rubbish and held it out to me saying, “Your turn Todd.” I think that was one of the very few moments I have ever felt confident enough to do that. And you clapped when I finished. It felt so good. Thank you Neli Perry, you are extraordinary.

Your dear friend,

 Todd Anderson

After writing I stood and took a minute to smile. Neil Perry was extraordinary, and he made me feel like that too. Turning to face our beds, Nelis was still empty. He probably stayed with his parents. I turn to face my bed more clearly. A box was in the centre.

Standing up I cautiously inspected the box. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Who put this here? What’s inside? Should I open it? No. Yes?

I opened the box. All that was inside was piles and piles of paper. Crumpled up pieces of paper. How very odd. Picking up the paper I read it to myself. It's mine. I think at least. Looking closer I see a letter on my pillow.

Dear Todd,

I thought you should see how amazingly talented you are.

You watch me perform. I read what you write.

Deal.

Your dear friend,

Neli Perry

I went to sleep that night with a smile.

***

After washing my dishes I walk to my studdy. I found the box and sat on my chair and read. 

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. Deal. I may not be able to watch you perform any more, but I will love to read you every word I write. 

I will open that box with everyone.

I will show them your box for me.

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. 

I will write till my dying days.

I will live by size the day.

Neil perry I love you.

***

After climbing a hill that felt like it took forever. I found the stone that printed your name, the white letter stared into me, but I didn't let it take a hold of me. Sitting beside the stone I lay my head on it and begin to read you what I wrote.

Today is a day I wouldn’t mind to die.

Today is a day I feel alright.

Today is a day I have said all goodbyes.

Today is the day I almost died.

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 19 - Replica

Length: 2100 words Vore type: M/M oral vore, willing prey Fandom: None Other info: furry robot pred, human prey Summary: There are certain benefits to befriending a mad* scientist Synth. And certain risks, but I'm sure it's fine. *Teq would surely argue that sanity is a meaningless concept to a robot, and therefore it cannot be lost (Synths are an open species created by Vader-San)

Sam blinked his eyes open; he was laying in some sort of cushioned tube, like the ones in Teq's lab. He tapped the glowing "exit" button and sat up, groggy. Around the tube was, well… Teq's lab. The practically second home of his Synth friend, the place was littered with tools, notes, and half-finished contraptions that it swore it had put in "the most efficient places possible." Today, the focus seemed to be around the biggest 3D printer Sam had ever seen, covered in papers with diagrams and measurements all over them.

Teq itself stood over its desk, presumably with even more complicated papers. [Oh, hello again Sam. Did you wake up well?] it asked, turning its head so its visor could "look" at him. Really, with its tail plugged into the wire hanging from the ceiling, Teq had seen Sam through every wall-mounted camera pointed near him, but he appreciated the familiar body language.

"Er, yeah, thanks for the makeshift bed, but I don't remember climbing in."

[Perfectly normal,] it replied, its electronic wink pulsing a mischievous yellow and blue, [seeing as you didn't.]

"Right, yeah, I remember some new scan you wanted to…" a yawn interrupted Sam, and he reached up in a big stretch, one that drew his attention to his outfit.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

"Teq, do you know why I'm naked?"

[Yes.]

Sam sighed. "Care to tell me?"

[Oh, absolutely!]

A few more seconds passed, and another sigh. "This stopped being funny the second time you did it."

The corners of the Synth's mouth pulled back in a grin, filled with its flat, blunt set of metal "teeth." [I wholeheartedly disagree! Buuuut it does wear thin quickly. Your clothes are folded over there,] it pointed towards a bench where, indeed, Sam's clothes sat, [but if everything goes well, you won't need them.]

"Uh-huh." Sam swung his legs out of the tube, grimaced when they touched the frigid floor, and reluctantly sat back down. "But I'll hear you out. What are you up to?"

[I've discovered a method to fork humans!] Teq said, its lights flashing like glittering gold. [Sinera contributed the magic part, since I am incapable of thaumic conductivity. Perhaps another day I will attempt to optimize away the safeguards she applied, but that requires many more tests.]

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling. "Is this leading up to a "I can't fork you if you're not naked" joke?"

Teq simply stuck out its metal, segmented tongue; Sam noticed that it was wetter than the Synth usually kept it. It crossed its arms and huffed, [well, not if you're going to take it away from me. I would like one more trial, however, before introducing a variable in participant.]

"Okay, so… forking is your "I'm being a funny computer" way of saying cloning, right? How many Sams are there running around right now?"

[One, if you count yourself.]

"Oh, so you failed, but you want to try again?"

Teq shook its head. [Every single trial has passed! It just… turns out having more than one active at a time causes problems. I won't elaborate.]

A sense of dread grew in Sam's chest. "So… so what happened to the others?"

[I ate them,] the Synth said simply, [accidentally scanning your browser history gave me a great idea, really, that reduces the net energy cost per test!]

"Am I-" Sam's breath caught in his throat, "- am I next?" He rose into a crouch, as though thinking he could run in a facility where the robot dragon controlled every machine and the doors.

[Ideally, yes, but you know how I am about consent forms for research participation.] Teq grabbed a few sheets of paper and flipped through them, likely more for dramatic effect than actually recalling information. [I was hoping for a nice, round 16, but if you would rather not, I can simply attempt to court a new subject. I'll keep you in the loop, of course.]

Sam shook his head and climbed out, gritting his teeth at the cold against his feet, and the distinct lack of anything keeping his body heat in. "Well, I'm glad to hear I can avoid you killing me by just telling you not to." He shivered. "Fuck, it's chilly in here."

[I have been keeping my internal spatial storage at 30 degrees Celsius,] the Synth offered, pointing one finger helpfully into its mouth, [and the path from intake to storage is of a similar temperature.]

Trying to keep his teeth from chattering, Sam stepped towards his clothes. "Is that supposed to convince me to let you eat me?"

[It was a convincing argument three times, though putting your clothes in your line of sight seems to have disrupted this trend.]

The man stopped and turned. "Three times? Wouldn't I remember?"

Teq stepped closer, but remained at a short distance. [Moreso than I anticipated, which is an annoyingly convincing argument towards the existence of souls - I might be out a few hundred bucks. But still, scarcely more than the character in that game you played last night remembered if you asked hir to use hir tail, penis, or mouth to eat your character.]

Sam nearly jumped with shock, but his blush meant his face, at least, didn't feel cold. "H-how did you-"

[Fifth trial, you used it as an analogy to your situation while sitting inside me.] It winked at him, the dotted oval briefly changing into a lit-up caret. [However, I only possess a mouth. Perhaps for later experiments or leisure…]

Sam crossed his arms, and walked up to it. "Fifteen times?" Teq nodded. "You're not telling me a lower number to trick me into agreeing to more?"

[Nor am I lying with a higher number to imply a greater confidence of success,] it agreed. [I chose this method of… duplicate prevention to increase the odds of your cooperation and to avoid a mess. I supect I will use its appeal to attract a new test subject after one final successful run.]

An uneasy look crossed the man's face. "I… hadn't thought of the "higher number" thing until you brought it up." He sighed, and looked at Teq's draconic face. "Please be honest again: did I enjoy being swallowed and, uh… whatever you did to me?"

[Yes, unless you lied to me about it. I did not see utility in attempting to discern that.] It looked away with its hand on its chin, as though thinking. [With the exception of an unfortunately uncomfortable entrance. If you decide to go one more time, I will eat you feet-first to prevent this.]

"…alright. Load up that consent doc, Teq."

[Thank you~!] it replied, with a small jingle. Its facial display showed a text document, and its upturned eyes soon faded from view. [You know the deal, read carefully, button at the bottom. Basically the same thing you've done for other experiments, just with a different procedure name.]

"Yeah, yeah…" Sam muttered, flicking his finger along the display. Text scrolled by far too fast to read, but at least it didn't take long to reach the indicated button. One tap later, and the document vanished, soon replaced by Teq's familiar eyes. "Okay, so now do I- gah!"

There was a clicking noise as Teq extended its tail, curled it behind Sam's legs and back, and then gently pushed the man back onto it. Sam immediately stiffened, anticipating a similar chill, but whatever Teq had done to keep its insides heated had somewhat extended to its tail - while definitely not warm by any measure, it was… better than room temperature. He was jolted out of his thoughts by a much greater heat around his feet and ankles. Looking down, Sam was greeted by the view of his synthetic friend's head by his knees, and the inside of its mouth visible in small gaps.

[Are you okay?] Teq asked. It took Sam a second to remember that, although the Synth usually moved its mouth while talking, it technically just used speakers. He nodded, and Teq's tail smoothly drifted closer, feeding more of his legs into the warm faux-throat. Once most of his thighs were gone, a quiet whirring accompanied a new sensation: like a massage chair, rolling pressure constantly pushed at his legs from all sides, coaxing him down.

When the heat of Teq's mouth and throat washed over his upper thighs and exposed balls, Sam flushed red and quickly covered himself with his hands. The Synth's eyes - and even its display background - tinted pink, and, teasing him, it remarked, [I guess I should ignore that rather than… encouraging you. Good to see you continue to enjoy this.] Its tail pushed him forward, and its throat changed from a gentle pull to more of a controlled slide.

With everything below his chest fully inside Teq's gullet or deeper, Sam realized he could kick around a little, and that it felt like paddling through a thick liquid. Teq offered no time to think about what that meant - not that Sam needed much - and the man soon found his world dark as the Synth shut its mouth past his head, while the bottom of its "stomach" soon forced his legs to curl up. Moments later, all of him was sitting in the strange, dark hot tub, with luckily enough room to keep his head above the liquid.

[How was it?]

"Very… relaxing," Sam decided, "although, I think I expected more of a swallowing motion than the constant slide."

[Interesting… I will keep that in mind when we do this in the future, assuming further successful tests.]

"When, not if?" He laughed, and tried to pat Teq's insides, but found that the liquid seemed thicker, and harder to move through. "Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

[I have a measured 100% success rate at talking you down my throat,] it pointed out, [and with a similar frequency of arousal, I expect you to ask it of me, especially once the process is further refined. Plus, you may want better footage than security camera video.]

"…fair enough. I definitely want a copy of those."

[And you'll have it. Goodbye now, Sam. I'll see an earlier you in a few minutes.]

The man didn't get the chance to think about what that meant.

--

Sam blinked his eyes open; he was laying in some sort of cushioned tube, like the ones in Teq's lab. He tapped the glowing "exit" button and sat up, groggy. Around the tube was, well… Teq's lab. The practically second home of his Synth friend, the place was littered with tools, notes, and half-finished contraptions that it swore it had put in "the most efficient places possible." Today, the focus seemed to be around the biggest 3D printer Sam had ever seen, covered in papers with diagrams and measurements all over them.

Teq itself stood over its desk, presumably with even more complicated papers. [Oh, hello again Sam. Did you wake up well?] it asked, turning its head so its visor could "look" at him. Really, with its tail plugged into the wire hanging from the ceiling, Teq had seen Sam through every wall-mounted camera pointed near him, but he appreciated the familiar body language.

"Er, yeah, thanks for the makeshift bed, but I don't remember climbing in."

[Perfectly normal,] it replied, its electronic wink pulsing a mischievous yellow and blue, [seeing as you didn't.]

"Right, yeah, I remember some new scan you wanted to…" a yawn interrupted Sam, and he reached up in a big stretch, one that drew his attention to his outfit.

Or rather, his lack thereof.

"Teq, do you know why I'm naked?"

[Synthesizing clothes around a body would have posed an unnecessary challenge and risk.] It turned, walked over, and offered a hand out of the tube. [Say, do you know anyone else who would want to be eaten by a Synth? For once, some external bias in selection would be welcome.]

Sam took the hand and cringed at the chill of the floor; helpfully, Teq pointed him to a pile of his clothes on a nearby bench. "I… maybe? Wait, what do you mean anyone ELSE?" he asked while putting on some protection from the lab's temperature.

The yellow and blue smiling eyes returned as Teq handed him a USB stick. "I could tell you directly, but I think it will be much more fun for you to find out looking through these files."

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

The Kingdom of the Stars Chapter 23: The Library

((This chapter was strangely fun to write!))

Previous: Chapter 22

Next: Chapter 24

“Come in,” came the queen’s quiet voice as her eyes wandered towards the door as it slowly opened.

She was quickly greeted by the familiar sight of Charo slinking past her nephew’s legs, evidently not sharing any of his unease as it made its way into the room. 

“Tia,” the prince whispered, peering into the room as he carefully balanced a tray in his hands. He spared one final glance to Dahlia who’d quietly taken a step back, giving him a small nod of reassurance as he turned back into the room. 

This room had once been his old nursery, one that his uncle had told him that his mother had put together herself. 

But time had not been kind to his mother, nor the nursery as he caught sight of the partially barren furniture that he had once called his own. 

Perhaps he should clean the room later.

“Ignacio,” he heard her voice again as he looked at her. The curtains in the room had been half-drawn, partially obscuring the queen’s figure from view as she slowly sat up. A book quietly sat on the bed next to her, as she hunched over, her head within her hands, as if trying to ease her discomfort, discomfort that he knew he had been the cause of.

“Tia?” he began again, surprised at the sound of his voice as he asked, “Tia is something wrong? Are you in pain? Do I need to get the healer”

Quietly she shook her head, glancing from him to another side of the room before looking away. 

His eyes followed hers, struggling to make out the large outline of a mirror lying in the corner of the room. 

“Oh! I’ll get rid of that for you!” he called, placing the tray down on the nightstand before he neared it. 

He glanced down at the mirror, briefly observing the cracks in its surface as he took in the sight of his distorted reflection. 

How had it arrived here in the first place? 

‘One of the healers must’ve left this behind, an honest mistake on their part, ’ he thought as he carefully covered the mirror with one of his old blankets. 

“Thank you,” he heard his aunt sigh, slowly relaxing as she reached over to pet the cat that had made its way onto the bed next to her. 

It was a miracle that the queen’s disdain for mirrors had become one of the better well-kept secrets of the royal family. 

“Any idea where it should go?” he asked, carefully moving it to the other side of the bed away from view.  

Quietly, he called to his power, feeling it gather beneath his fingertips as he awaited for her reply. 

He expected her to tell him to destroy it by any means necessary, to use every ounce of his power to concentrate on shattering it and reforming it into something else, but instead, her answer surprised him.

“Perhaps your uncle’s study would appreciate it,” she began softly as Charo began to purr. “He always seems to find a purpose for them.”

Ignacio coughed, barely able to mask his chuckle as he began to think over all the times he’d caught his uncle talking to his reflections. It was always funny, until the reflections somehow started talking back, and the things they’d say, well… let’s just say that it didn’t leave the prince eager to learn any sort of spell that would make that happen.

Getting rid of that spell would be the first thing he’d do as king, well that and burning whatever spell his uncle used to keep up his ‘sculpting hobbies’.

He ground his jaw, examining one of the partially torn and worn royal portraits of his ancestors and relatives that hung on the wall.  

 Most of these had been from his uncle’s homelands. His homelands. A small piece to a much larger puzzle that had ultimately lost itself at the hand of those ‘selfish thieves’.

“You seem upset,” came the queen’s voice again, interrupting his thoughts as he heard Charo purr and stretch.

“Oh he’s always upset whenever he’s around Asha,” Ignacio answered, dispersing his magic with an uneasy shrug. The queen’s hand halted in mid-air as he watched Charo’s glare soften as the cat began to yowl. “You think he’s bad now- you should’ve seen the way how he tried to scratch her daylights out earlier at the reception-,” He watched as the cat’s eyes narrowed at him as he shrugged. “What? It’s true. You have nine lives and somehow managed  to hold a grudge for eight of them.”

“I wasn’t talking about Charo,” she called, her eyes gaining a stern note. “But where is she now?”

“She?”

“Asha,” the queen repeats. “Where is Asha?”

“At the library doing her tasks, I think. The kin-....Tio has apparently been feeling very productive lately. He’s taken all the other apprentices out for training.”

“I take it you wanted to go with them?”

“Not any more so than usual,” he lied. He had wanted to go with them. But from the way how he’d noticed the guards more or less ‘coincidentally’ wandering to his proximity, whenever he’d near a castle exit, he’d quickly come to figure out that he was not allowed to leave the castle.

‘At least not for now, ’ his uncle had told him. His time would come soon, but until then it had seemed that he’d ultimately exchanged one prison for another. 

“Here,” she patted the side of the bed, gently gesturing for him to join her, much to the chagrin of her cat.

That was enough about him. He hadn’t come here to see his aunt to talk about himself.

“How are you doing Tia?” he started, pouring some tea from his tray into cups for both of them. Carefully, he handed her cup to her, “Are you feeling better today?”

“Much better,” she smiled, sipping some of the tea before placing it down.

“Does it still hurt?” He softly asked as he eyed her bandages. 

“A bit,” she confessed, gently pressing a hand against her bandaged shoulder.

“If you’d like I could adjust your bandages for you-,”

“No need,” she held up a hand interrupting him, as Charo softly purred. “The healers took care of it an hour ago.”

“Oh,” he lowered his head as he took his seat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry Tia.” His grip on the teacup tightened. “This was all my fault. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it weren’t for me-,”

“Don’t be. You’re too young to carry that sort of regret in your heart.”

He scoffed, placing his teacup down on the tray, “Am I? I’m sure my Tio wouldn’t agree.”

“Your uncle wouldn’t agree to a lot of things, but that doesn’t make them any less true-,”

“Careful with your words Tia, you might end up on Antaris. The king’s been feeling very generous with that island lately,” he scoffed, barely hiding his disgust as he picked up his teacup once more and forced down the tea. 

An entire family was banished.

He knew this was coming.

It was a risk he’d been willing to take all those months ago, but he’d been so certain that things would’ve been different by now, and that it would have never had to come to that. Oh how wrong he was…

She frowned, watching as her nephew rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “We have much to discuss now, don’t we?” 

He nodded, laying back in the bed before closing his eyes, soaking in the sound of silence as he heard his aunt ask, “How was the reception?”

“As expected it was deceptive, invasive, and performative .”

She chuckled, “Sounds like it went well.”

“Very funny Tia.”

“I wasn’t joking. It’s good that so many replied to attend. It means that the court is still interested in you and your presence has been missed.”

“Missed by whom exactly? Because from what I could tell, the reception wasn’t only about my return.” He sat up, his eyes focusing solely on the darkened corner of the room where the mirror had once laid. “It was to send a message- a message for all of Rosas. . ”

“And what message was that?” 

“I suppose it was a message that any ‘disrespected’ king would send. One cordial enough to charm, yet cold enough to terrify. With equal amounts of both all your court can do is just smile and nod while you carry on.”

“And you believe it should be different? Do you want to make it different?”

“I make no promises,” he sighed, turning his eyes towards the window. “But it happened again. He displayed it… for all the court to see, even after the announcement that he’d quietly vanished the Clariveaus last night.” He shook his head before leaning back once more. “You should’ve heard how they all cheered…anyone would’ve assumed that the Clariveaus had been long-term enemies from the way the news was so well-received.”

“Their compliance is perhaps more so out of concern for their own safety than agreement with the king’s actions,” The queen answered as she rested her teacup on the nightstand. Charo curled himself around her shoulders, gently rubbing his face to her neck as she patted him. “Who’s to say that the same fate won’t befall them for speaking up? You cannot blame them for being careful in the realm of court politics. A friend today may very well be an enemy tomorrow.”

“I know. I can’t blame them for being afraid…I can’t blame anyone but myself for… this.” He stood up, pacing around the room. The eyes of the portraits felt like they were on him now, watching and waiting to hear what he would say next. “How am I to someday ascend the throne-,” he paused gesturing to the open window, “much less lead a whole nation if I can’t even lead my friend away from danger!”

“Did you not do all that you could?” The queen’s voice emerged from behind, as he turned to face her. She was standing behind him now with Charo on her shoulders. “You visited him against your uncle’s wishes. Against your better judgment. You made travel arrangements to get him to safety. The only person who failed to cooperate was him.”

“He was desperate-,”

“He was past the point of reason,” the queen interjected, coolly narrowing her eyes. “Any sensible man would realize that no rescue is possible if you end up ultimately endangering yourself before carrying it out.” Ignacio sighed, slumping over as he felt his aunt gently place her hand on his shoulder. “You did all that you could and that was more than enough, regardless of the outcome.”

“Was it? The ever-growing collection of statues in my study says otherwise.” His eyes lingered on her bandaged shoulder as he felt guilt consume him once more. “And now you’re hurt-,”

“A small price to pay all things considered,” she firmly answered, slowly lowering Charo to the ground. The cat wasted no time in slinking out of the room. “The past three years haven’t been easy for you, nor have they been for your king or the residents of Antaris. I know the longing and anger that eats away at you, now. But you need to give yourself time. No ruler ever started great, not even your uncle.” She rested her palm against his cheek, gently cupping his face as he lowered his head.

“Soon you will come to learn that experience is the greatest teacher there is. It taught your ancestors, just as it will teach you. You only need to wait for its hand to guide you.” 

Crrrreeeeeeaaaaakkkkk

The old library doors groaned in protest as both star and apprentice took in the sight of the disaster before them.

Asha would’ve cried if she could at the terrible sight that lay before her.

Dust particles hung suspended in the air as several books were scattered on the tables, floors, and shelves. The once pristine floor was so thickly covered in dirt and dust that she could barely see her reflection in them as she braved forward into the darkened room, taking in the sight of the dusty tall windows that had looked just as unwashed as the dirty and torn curtains that limply hung around them.

It was a far cry from the library that had been one of her and her father’s favorite places to go when he was well enough to work in the castle. He’d always take her here, sometimes doing a bit of cleaning up himself before they both sat down near the fireplace to read the various books on poetry, fairy tales, and philosophy.

But that all had changed when he’d passed and, she couldn’t find the strength within herself to return. 

She knew she should’ve come earlier. She’d always had the sinking suspicion that her ailing father had cared more for the library than the head librarian ever did. But she couldn’t face the silence and the cold that she knew had claimed the library in her father’s absence. 

She squinted through the library’s pervasive darkness, trying to ignore the memories of her father’s decrepit figure limping around the bookshelves during what would’ve been his last visit.

Dispelling those thoughts from her mind, she impatiently gestured for the star to join her at the library’s center, where the cob-webbed fountain lay dry with its once beautiful flowers and ivy now wilted and decaying. 

Her eyes prickled with unshed tears as she looked over the fountain her father had loved so dearly.  

He’d practically been ecstatic when the king had arranged for it to be completed on his birthday, proudly showing her out and about the entire library he’d been responsible for creating as he’d spoken about the future. 

The future that he’d never lived to see.

She carefully wiped away the stray tears, thankful that the library was dark enough to hide them. 

Maybe it had been a good thing that the star was here, otherwise she wouldn’t have been unable to keep herself from crying as she felt his gaze rest on her back.

She could practically feel the hundreds if not thousands of questions that plagued his mind, but he seemed to know better than to ask as she was frankly, in no mood to answer. 

Quietly, she followed his eyes toward the barren fireplace and the old yet infamous broken clock that hung next to it. 

No one knew where that clock had come from or how it had even arrived in the library. There’d been legends of it always re-appearing in that spot no matter what the head librarian or king did to get rid of it. 

‘It was cursed’ they said, ‘haunted by the spirits of the past that refused to be put to rest,’ It was something that Asha had only agreed with after she’d opened the clock to examine its inner workings in an attempt to fix it. Its gears and cogs had all been strangely reminiscent of the ones she had found in her grandmother’s music box, and the ones found in Caio’s toy, both of which had told her of a powerful kingdom, that predated Rosas. 

But just like her grandmother’s music box, she’d found little success in her numerous attempts to fix the clock. 

It was missing something that she’d been tempted to write off as ‘the spark’ , which ironically she’d argued that the whole library could now use.

“Finally,” she heard the star sigh as he walked past her. “A room in this castle that is not drowning in pastels.”

Pastels, short capes, and the name Bruno - the star had some strange dislikes, didn’t he?

“Do all human archives look like this?” he asked, as she saw him reach towards the clock. 

“Don’t touch that and no. This one is…a special case.” Her finger wiped the surface of a nearby wooden table, grimacing in disgust at the layers of dust that remained. “It used to be very beautiful.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“The Royal Library,” she sighed, sadness taking the place of frustration and disgust. “That’s what.” 

The star stepped back, turning his surprised eyes to the ceiling as he looked around. “This isn’t the Royal Library?”

“It’s one of the libraries in the castle, but it’s not the official one that the royal family uses. Back when the castle was being designed, someone-,” her father , “advised that they build two libraries, one that was more accessible to offer the common folk of the kingdom resources, and the other that adhered to the hierarchy.” She scoffed, crossing her arms as she disapprovingly stared at the disarray surrounding them.

“The hierarchy of nobles?”

“Yes. That one.” The world of the haves and the have-nots. 

“I take it that you used to come here often?” He asked softly. 

“Yes, but…Not anymore,” she confessed. She wasn’t sure why she’d bothered telling him the truth, but to deny the time she’d spent here felt unfair to her father, who’d been the sole reason why the library had existed at all.

She stepped past him, opening the old door to the maid’s closet as she sighed, “We’ll probably have to get out some of the cleaning supplies to deal with the rest of the library. There should be some spare ones in the library’s closet, I think.” She gasped at the near-barren sight of cleaning supplies in the closet that greeted her. 

All that remained was one tiny mop, a partially torn rag, and a skinny broom that looked as if it was on its last legs. 

Great. There weren’t even any cleaning supplies here! 

Yep, this only confirmed her suspicions that the king must’ve been secretly furious about her fulfilling her end of the agreement. Of course, she was no stranger to doing the banal yet tedious tasks he’d assign her now and then, but this felt like punishment . 

“Are earth cleaning supplies invisible?” asked the star as he glanced over her shoulder. 

“No Cepheus,” she groaned, as she let the closet door shut. “They’re not. The closet is just mostly empty.”  

“Oh.”

Valentino pleated, as the star cheerfully called, “That might not be a bad idea, we do need somewhere to start, don’t we?”

The star hummed to himself before quietly moving towards the window.

Why was he in such a good mood?

Her father’s legacy, his library was in disarray!

 “Wait-,” Asha began, racing towards him as he stopped in front of the nearby window. He wasn’t going to try to open it, was he? The windows in this library were large and exceptionally heavy. To try to open one, was like engaging in mortal combat, one that neither combatant would walk away unscathed from. 

To her horror, she watched as with a simple sweeping gesture the torn curtains parted themselves for him as he stepped towards the window.

“What are you doing?!” She blinked, feeling her eyes forcefully adjust to the sudden light that had invaded the library. 

“Look, Asha. Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling that there’s some sort of lesson to be learned here.”

“Oh?” she crossed her arms. “And what lesson is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? But you just said-,”

“I said that it was here to be learned- not that I learned or knew it yet.”

She’d nearly opened her mouth to reply with a retort to hopefully destroy the star when Valentino’s pleat disrupted her. Her eyes turned to the goat joyfully trotting around the covered pieces of furniture, before his teeth grabbed the edge of one of the sheets.

“Wait, Valentino no-!” Asha called out, as the goat pulled the sheet back. The cloud of dust that engulfed the room was instantaneous, nearly blinding her as she stumbled backward, trying to shield her eyes and mouth.

Somewhere in the background, she could hear Valentino pleating as another sheet hit the ground and more dust began to accumulate in the air.

Soon, the cloud of dust had grown so large that Asha could barely see anything.  

The dust had to have been magical. There was no way a library could have this much dust! Neglected or not it just wasn’t feasible! 

What in the world?” She coughed, stumbling forward. 

“Valentino!” She called in between coughs, backing away as far as she could from the dust. How was he not bothered by all this dust?

“Cepheus?” she called, actually hoping that he wouldn’t answer, and thankfully he did not. 

What answered in his place completely caught her off guard as she felt something light brush past her. It’d happened so quickly that for a moment she’d dared to think that she’d imagine it. 

Then she heard it. 

The distinct sound of a latch clicking, before a strong gust of wind blew past her, enveloping the dust as it began to shift and contort itself before forcefully flying around her and through the now-opened library windows. 

She blinked in disbelief at the now clear room, noticeably void of any suspended dust particles and clouds.

The library looked different now, almost as if it had some semblance of life to it. 

It’d taken her a few seconds to come to as she stared past the star to the windows. 

He’d somehow managed to open the window without breaking it or himself. She shouldn’t have been surprised as she was, given some of the things she’d seen him do; but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen these windows open or the particular view of Rosas they’d offered. 

“Now isn’t that better?” He smiled, coming into view as she blinked. For a second she could’ve sworn she’d seen something that looked like bird feathers falling from around him, but it had vanished so quickly that she was unsure of its existence.

“Humans probably shouldn’t be inhaling that stuff.” He continued as she watched him look towards the barren fireplace. 

With a simple glance from the star, a respectable amount of kindling floated from its corner of the library into the center of the fireplace before neatly arranging itself. Soon a small flicker of flame emerged from its center, growing and cackling until it had quickly become a healthy fire. 

Something in the way the fire flickered had nearly reminded her of Julian. 

Of course, the comparison had some merit to it, the star had confessed to being the source of Julian’s power. But unlike Julian, he hadn’t even needed to shoot the flames from his hands. All he needed was a simple look and immediately the fire had sprung to life. 

It was a curious yet terrifying glimpse at the difference in technique between true power and borrowed power.

“What…what just happened?” She whispered in disbelief, feeling the library’s cold quickly vanish. 

“I cleared the room! Being able to see and breathe should make shelving a lot easier for you now!” the star smiled as he stared out the window. For her, huh? He’d noticeably left himself out of that sentence, something that she felt hadn’t been done unintentionally on his part.

Now he looked just like the star she’d met in the forest, the one she’d wished had never fallen out of the sky. 

Should she have been concerned that he was in such a good mood? He’d been nearly despondent earlier, and now here he was leaning out the window as he beamed with a brightness that almost rivaled the sun.

Her daze was quickly broken as she heard him release a strange assortment of whistles. Then he stood back as if waiting for something to happen. 

One minute passed, then another, and another.

 Finally, he frowned, shaking his head as he looked back to her, “She’s probably on her way here. Be patient with her please.”

“Her?” Asha repeated. She was just about to ask him about this mysterious ‘her’ he was trying to summon when she heard the familiar chirps, watching as her birds quickly entered the library.

“Hello!” she smiled at her birds, who happily chirped back a greeting before landing next to her. “I hope you all enjoyed your breakfast!” Enrique chirped what she could only assume was a ‘yes.’ 

She looked over her birds, feeling her heart waiver as she realized Mara, Abril, and Adelina were not amongst them. “Enrique,” she softly began, watching as the small bird hopped towards her. “Where is your sister? Is she alright?” 

He chirped in reply, quickly turning his body towards the window as the other birds added in with their chirps. None of them seemed particularly stressed or urgent, so she’d take their answers as a yes that she and the others were safe.

She let out a sigh of relief as Carmen hopped forward, curiously looking at her and then the surrounding library. The other birds followed suit, all curious about the strange library as Asha explained, “This place is an old library that the king wanted me to clean, so that’s why I’m here. I have to clean it before he gets back so I can ask him for some funding.”

Alejandro chirped as several birds joined in, enthusiastically hoping about as she watched a few take flight. “Yeah, it’s a mess I know. But on the bright side, I decided to use it as a way to 

obliterate someone! Do you want to watch?”

She didn’t need to ask twice as they all quickly (and comfortably) perched themselves on the window sill, casting the star a weary glance before they turned their attention back to her.  

Most animals she’d come across had more or less taken a liking to the star. They’d all either been friendly or neutral, but she’d never seen any animals being weary, or even fearful of him. 

Not that she blamed her birds, of course, something about the star was a bit…frightening.

“Yeah I’m not a fan either,” she whispered to the birds. “But I can’t get him to leave, at least not yet, so-,” she exasperatedly gestured to the bookshelves. “This is the best I can do for now. If I can win our wager by stacking up more books than him, he swears that he’ll go home.” Enrique boldly chirped, seemingly surprised as she grimaced, before repeating, “If I win..”

Luckily for her, the star didn’t seem to notice nor hear this as he was too busy examining one of the dead leaves of ivy around the fountain.

After a moment or so, he stepped back, turning his head to the rest of the fountain as little by little a small storm cloud encircled the fountain, growing and darkening as thunder rumbled. 

Wasn’t this how Mrs. Bellerose had recollected her cloud appearing? She said it had been instantaneous right? 

She gasped as rain quickly began to fall from the clouds, descending and splashing into the once-dry fountain.

Her birds chirped in amazement, while Enrique hopped to his feet in disbelief.

In fairness to Enrique, Asha too was in disbelief, but for a completely different reason.

Why wasn’t any of the library’s magical protection spells going off? Surely the runes that had been engrained on the floor weren’t fake! Right?

The star hummed, oblivious to her amazement as he stepped towards the cleaning closet, opening the door to glance at both the broomstick and mop. He hummed in thought before shaking his head and muttering something in a language she couldn’t quite understand.

Was it an incantation?

“What do people on this planet use to carry water?” he asked her.

“Carry water?”

“Yeah you know, for when you want to clean something?”

“Well…they use a bucket I guess.”

“A bucket?” he repeated, as she nodded, pulling out her sketchbook to show him an old sketch of several cleaning objects that her father had playfully drawn for her during one of his art lessons. It depicted a broom with arms carrying buckets in either hand. 

“This is a bucket,” she called, gesturing to the drawn buckets that the broom held. 

“I see,” the star nodded.

“But there are no buckets in here so we’ll have to-,”  Her voice trailed off as she looked on, both in awe and terror, as he slowly stretched and moved his glowing fingers as a wooden bucket quickly materialized from thin air- thin air!

No sooner had it finished forming than the closet began to tremble and shake. 

Then it moved. 

She could hardly believe her eyes as the mop all but marched over to the half-filled fountain as the newly formed bucket followed behind, quickly filling itself with rainwater. 

The star stepped back, not looking the least bit phased as the mop and bucket stood in front of him. He looked them over, casually talking to them in his native tongue as they shivered, quickly taking off.

Immediately the bucket dumped its contents onto the floor as she watched the mop quickly begin to work its way through the water, scrubbing and mopping away at the dust and dirt that had covered the library’s floor.

Then the mop was joined by another mop…

Another mop? 

But she’d only seen one mop in the closet…where had another one come from? 

Her mind halted the question as several rags wiped the windows, and the curtains began to shake and tremble, as several dusters and sewing needles tended to it.

She quickly stepped out of the way as several brooms swept past her, all heading towards some of the furniture that was now levitating. Carefully the brooms swept underneath and around the floating furniture, not sparing any expense in their efforts to rid the floor of dirt. 

This was…This wasn’t possible.

It shouldn’t have been possible!

All these things would’ve taken the castle’s staff at least a solid half an hour to do, and that was if they could organize and convince everyone to be on time!  But somehow the star had done it. 

He’d even created the cleaning materials out of thin air!

“Give it a few minutes, and your library will look just as good as the day it opened” came the star’s pleased voice, as he sat himself at the foot of the fountain, surrounded by beautiful flowers, and ivy. “Impressive, isn’t it?” he asked as he gestured to the fountain behind him. 

No. Absolutely not. 

“Wait! Hold on a second!” she protested. “You can’t just regrow the plants like this! Someone will get suspicious! What if the king comes and checks it? No one is allowed to use magic but him!”

The star’s smile shrank. “On the contrary I didn’t regrow them. They’re enchanted plants, so they weren’t dead, just thirsty. But I guess if you’re afraid that the king won’t believe you on that, then you have one of two options.”

“Which are?” 

“You could always say that the prince helped you, or you can tell him that you used this-,” he pulled a small vial out of his cloak, that read MRS BELLEROSE SECRET FLOWER FORMULA. “A gift from one of his loyal supporters for his acts of heroism.” Carefully the vial lifted itself from his hands before settling itself into hers. “I’m sure she’d appreciate the good word.”

She carefully unscrewed the top, taking a sniff from the strange concoction. It smelled like rosewater. If what the star was saying about the plants being thirsty was true she supposed the king could believe it, but part of her had inexplicably felt more safety in the Ignacio lie, if she could get the prince to agree to it, that is. “Why do you think the prince would be so willing to help me?”

“Call it a hunch,” he shrugged, his sky blue eyes looked a little too knowing for her liking as he continued to relax against the fountain.

“I’d prefer not to.” She re-sealed the vial before shooting the star a glare. “You better not be up to something involving the prince-,”

He nearly looked hurt now. “I’m not! Why would you think I’d do something against your prince? He was the one who attacked me! Not vice versa!”

The words he’d told her on the boat about no earth prince being able to threaten him had given her more than enough reason to worry. 

“First of all he’s Dahlia’s prince. Not mine.”

“Who?”

“Dahlia. My coworker.”

“Oh.”

“Second of all, stop acting like you listen to me. Because we both know that you don’t.”

His smile shrank even further, “I was only trying to help you.”

“Sure,” she turned away as she rolled her eyes. “But if you really want to help me you could do so by oh I don’t know, not endangering me and my family in the process? The king’s already banished one family today, and I have a feeling that he wouldn’t hesitate to banish another one by nightfall!” 

“You’re not going to be banished.”

“He will when I figure out that I’ve been breaking the law and lying through my teeth!”

“Well then, if you’re afraid of lose ends coming to haunt you then you’d probably be better off claiming that the prince helped you. He knows magic, doesn’t he? So it’d probably be the safer of the two options than that one,” he gestured to the vial in her hands. “She’s too honest you know.”

“She? Oh you mean Mrs. Bellerose…Wait…You…you didn’t steal this from her did you?”

“Steal? Steal?” he blinked before frowning. “Asha, I got this as a gift from Mrs. Bellerose, herself. It’s a little thing called earth hospitality, you know.” he whispered. “I was speaking to her yesterday in the market. I’d been drawn to her shop when I saw one of the flowers she’d possessed. It reminded me of-,” he paused, his expression blanking before he looked away. “Sorry, I meant to say that I was curious about a flower. She was nice, even when I told her I wasn’t exactly what she could consider a ‘paying customer ’ at the time. She didn’t seem to mind and gave me this for my troubles. She said she was handing it out to some of her customers who she felt was down on their luck.” ‘She should’ve given it to me then,’ Asha thought, not the least bit impressed before the star continued. “Of course, I couldn’t magic myself some money for a purchase, so I thought it’d be nice if I just you know, paid her in wishes instead.”

“Did she tell you her wish?” Asha asked, feeling a twinge of nervousness. If she had, and her wish had been granted… What if she put two and two together… 

He shook his head. “She didn’t have to. I already knew.”

“You…You already knew?

“Of course I did. I don’t need to see a physical object or manifestation to know what a wish is.”

“Really?” she asked, feeling despair at how her plan to trick him with her ‘wish’ had ultimately been in vain from the start. 

“Of course!”

Dang it. 

And here she thought that she’d been so close! SO CLOSE to getting rid of him! Once and for all! Ugh, it was hopeless!

What was she thinking, going up against something that could seemingly make things out of thin air and magically see wishes without needing the orbs? There was no way she could win this! Not unless- she paused, glancing at her birds. 

She was feeling very unethical now.

But she’d said by any means necessary, hadn’t she?

She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to nod as she saw the star’s smile grow. “Now then…” he started, walking towards her as he looked around at the messy bookshelves that were mostly empty. Most of the books were either on the floor or the now floating tables “Shall we begin?”

Was it too late to back out? She had a feeling that she may be in over her head…

As if reading her thoughts, the star’s smile grew as she saw him cross his arms. “You can always back out if you want.”

“And give you the win? Never!” She should have slapped herself for that as she saw the star’s grin sharpen. 

He was smirking now, as he took a step back, and drawled, “Alright, but you can’t say that you weren’t warned!” He turned away from her as he began to make his way towards a bookcase. 

“Wait!” she nervously called after his retreating figure without thinking.

He stopped. “Hmm?”

“If… I may, I was thinking since this was my idea, and I’m pretty familiar with this library, that maybe I should pick the starting point…” She gestured to the expansive space around them. “The place is huge! If we don’t start right we might not be able to finish in time!”

The star nodded at her thoughtfully, “Very well then…where do you propose we start?”

“This way,” she gestured for the star to follow as she ventured down one of the book aisles, her eyes impatiently scanning the floors, walls, and bookshelves. Come on, where were the runes? There had to have been at least one nearby!

She’d nearly collapsed from relief when she’d found it, a rune carefully crafted into the wall on the other side of the library. She wasn’t sure what it meant or said but if her memory serves her correctly, most if not all of the rooms in the castle had had protection runes engraved on them in case of emergencies. Well this was an emergency, wasn’t it? 

“Here,” she breathed, gesturing to the two nearby tables that were full of books. “Let's start here.”

The star hummed as Valentino nervously stepped past him, doing his best to avoid the low-hanging cobwebs. 

“You know Asha, if you wanted an advantage against me, all you had to do was ask-,” came the star’s voice, bringing her to a halt. 

She tensed. Had she been that obvious about the runes? “What do you mean by an advantage?”

He glanced from her to her birds, as a thought struck her. 

The star was feeling…generous wasn’t he? Fine. She’d see how well that generosity would pay off when she was finished with him!

“Wait here,” she commanded, bolting towards the exit and down the familiar pathway towards the kitchen’s pantry.

She grabbed a few spare carts from the pantry, watching as Valentino somehow managed to push his own as they stopped by the royal library, to grab another one of her inventions. It had been a wooden ladder that she’d built before modifying it with wheels and several other parts.

They’d called it a rolling ladder for the speed and maneuverability it offered its users while shelving books. The idea had come to her a while ago, just after one of the head librarians had nearly strained a muscle in her back while trying to shelve a book. 

So she’d taken it upon herself to design and build the ladder, and much to her surprise it had been well received, so well received that just like her carts, it had quickly become another one of her inventions that had been accredited to the king.

But she didn’t mind. As long as it could serve its purpose and help, then the king could take all the credit he wanted for it. 

She carefully removed it from the royal library’s bookshelves before placing it on her cart to carry. Pushing it back was cumbersome, but she was certain that it would be worth it.

“You’re back!” the star exclaimed as she and Valentino re-entered the corner of the library. “And just in time too! There’s a few people or rather beings, I want you to meet!”

She halted mid-push before turning to the star suspiciously, “…beings? What sort of beings?”

He turned to the window, just as several blurry black objects bolted through it. 

Valentino cowered behind her as she heard her birds let out fearful chirps before they too took cover behind her. 

Taking a hesitant step back, she barely made out the familiar figures of crows circling overhead. Before this, She’d never seen so many crows gathered in one place before, and certainly not in the castle of all places! 

“We’re here! We’re here! ” one cried.

“ Finally! I’ve never seen what the inside of a castle looks like!”

“Is it supposed to be so dark and dreary? I thought they were magical!”

A rather large crow began laughing as she flew towards them. “Oh- oh!” she cried, “there you are! I almost lost sight of you!”

The star grinned, holding out his forearm for the crow to perch on as Asha shook her head, hardly believing anything she was seeing. “Sorry!  Sorry! I nearly lost track of the time!” The crow laughed. Its voice was a funny yet strange contrast to its appearance. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting for too long!”

“Not at all,” the star pleasantly replied. “In fact, I’d say that you couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

The crow readjusted itself on his forearm as he moved, gesturing to Asha as several crows landed on either side of her, curiously observing her. “There’s someone that I’d like you all to meet. Corvias this is Asha. She made a wish-,” An accidental wish “-on me the other night.”

“Oh! Oh! It’s a pleasure to meet you! Yes! Indeed it is!” The crow excitedly shook herself, her voice sounding somewhat flustered. “It’s always nice to be able to put a name to a face and we crows certainly do know a lot of faces!” The other crows cawed in agreement. 

“Ah, it’s…a pleasure to meet you as well Miss… Corvias….” Asha nervously laughed as she took another hesitant step away from the curious crows. “But if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know Cepheus?”

“Cepheus?” Corvias repeated as confusion ever so slightly lacing her voice before her eyes widened. “Cepheus! Oh!... We don’t!” Corvias cheerfully answered as the star laughed. “We just met a few hours ago! I would’ve been here sooner if someone could actually learn how to resist shiny objects! We had the whole of Rosas chasing us down earlier!” The crow glared at one of her companions who was happily holding a small pearl necklace.

“It was worth it!” The crow declared. “I know a big fish who will find a nice home for this in her collection!”

“Anything to be apart of her world!”

The other crows in what she could only assume was laughter or agreement as she thought over Corvias’s reply. ‘We just met a few hours ago!’ The crow had declared. 

Ok that was a lie. It had to be. He had called her expectantly like he knew her, or knew of her .

As if to prove her suspicions he murmured a string of unintelligible words to the crow who nodded, flying off of his forearm before he turned back to Asha. “I can tell that you have a lot of questions-,” he started. 

She curtly nodded “Yes. First things first, what…what is this?!” She gestured to all of the crows that had flown in. 

“An audience!” the star smiled. “I work best when I’m under pressure! And besides we need an unbiased outsider to officiate!”

“Unbiased? Cepheus these are birds! Granted they’re very smart birds-,” A few crows, Corvias included, nodded in agreement. “But they’re still birds! When did you even find the time to make them talk?! Better yet why did you make them talk?”

“I didn’t.”

“…What?”

“I didn’t make them talk.”

“Cepheus birds just don’t talk on their own like this. No one else can use magic and I doubt the king would feel compelled to make them talk. So if it wasn’t you, then who?!”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. You’d have to ask them. But as far as I know, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Yeah right-,”

“I’m serious! I swear I’m innocent!” The star frowned looking at the items she carried. “What’s that?” 

“The pinnacle of science and elbow grease,” she snapped, tightening her grip on the cart before she lifted the ladder, grunting at the sudden additional weight.

“Do you need any help?” The star asked as she hauled it towards one of the nearby bookshelves.

“No!” She hissed as her mind sharply added, ‘Not from you.’

She let out a sigh of relief as she placed the ladder down at the end of the bookshelf. 

Unfortunately, the bookshelves in this library were at least a foot taller than the ones in the royal library as Asha watched the ladder fail to reach the top shelf.

She’d have to build one for this library, right after she got rid of the star.

“Did you make it?”

“ Obviously . Not all of us can break the laws of science to make things appear out of thin air,” she snapped, turning her attention back to the carts. “Some of us have to actually build and design things.”

“It’s not breaking if you rewrite them to your advantage,” the star shrugged. 

She stormed past him, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her as she positioned her carts into their places, quickly running over her makeshift shelving system in her head. 

It had only taken her a second to step off to the side to explain her plan to her birds, who were more than willing to help if it meant that she’d be getting rid of the star sooner rather than later.

The only one who didn’t seem particularly excited was Valentino, and that was probably because he was more concerned with the fact that he’d be stacking books rather than eating them. 

The fact that he had given her so many liberties meant that he was feeling more than confident about the outcome of this wager.

Good. 

The king had felt more than confident that she couldn’t complete her tasks in time, and she’d proved him wrong. Why was the star any different?

Probably because she’d used the star to help her, not vice versa….

Crud. Well…on the bright side, she wasn’t in the mood to play fair, not when she had her family and her project’s future on the line.

After a final minute or so of final revisions, she’d turned to the star, sending him a curt nod that she was ready. 

He only nodded in reply, taking his place at her side as they stood in front of the two tables piled high with books that they’d determined would be their starting point. 

The rules are simple,” Corvias called, as she sat perched on an overhead ledge. “As soon as the bell tower chimes to signify the end of the hour, you two will sort and stack the books properly by any means necessary !” The surrounding crows cawed menacingly as Asha could’ve sworn that she saw some of them grin.

“By any means necessary?” the star asked, his eyes focused on the pile of books in front of him.

“By any means necessary,” Asha repeated, trying to ignore how lightheaded she felt. There was no reason to be scared, not when the star couldn’t hurt her.

 “Now now, that doesn’t mean you two should try to kill each other! Please don’t do that, I don’t have the stomach for violence… BUT! You can feel creative in using whatever means you deem necessary for winning,” she paused looking towards Asha. “Each of you will have a crow who keeps track of how many books you stack and updates on your progress.” Two crows hopped towards them, one male and one female. “Whoever can stack the most books by the end of the designated time of two and a half hours is…the winner!”

The crows cheered, eager for the competition to begin.

“Now then! Do both parties agree to continue? Speak now or forever hold your peace…”  Did the crow have to make it sound so ominous? 

Asha gulped trying to ignore all the curious gazes fixated on her as she shrugged, “Well… it was my idea..”

“It was, wasn’t it?” The star smiled sweetly. “I look forward to tomorrow.”

“As do I. Stars are a lot like mountains- they’re at their best from a distance ,” She grinned, picking up a book from the table, as he did the same.

Now all they had to do was wait for the clocktower’s bell to ring, signifying the end of the hour and the beginning of their wager.

Corvias’s sharp cries caught her attention as she watched her crouch, her wings and feathers expanding to make herself appear bigger. 

“On your mark-,” she started. 

“Get set-,” 

Corvias hissed, “Go!” as the clock tower outside chimed, and the crows cheered.

Asha took off, grabbing as many books as she could before sorting them into their appropriate piles by genre, and subjects. 

It wasn’t long before her side of the table and floor was starting to have some semblance of order as she quickly loaded her books onto the nearest carts, instructing Valentino where to push them as she began to load the next cart. 

She quickly sorted more books onto the now-loaded carts as she pushed them down their respective aisles, alternating whatever side they’d be placed on in hopes of being able to transition from one cart to the next as quickly as possible the minute she’d finished shelving the aisle.

Out of sheer curiosity (or stupidity), she bothered risking a glance in the star’s direction, watching as he cluelessly stared at one book that he was holding upside down. 

He really wasn’t going to use magic for this?

Fine by her! She needed to win this so if the star felt the need to set himself up for failure, then who was she to argue? She’d nearly finished stacking and sorting all of the books on her table when he seemed to snap out of- well, whatever he was trying to achieve. 

He let go of the book, as it began to shake along with all of the other books on the table.

Then, they flew, flapping their covers like wings as they headed toward the nearby shelves. Some even maneuvered around each other to go to their respective places with their flight patterns more akin to birds than anything else. 

At the sight of what had to have been at least fifty more books taking flight the female crow cried out, “And that puts Cepheus in the lead by eighty points!”

Eighty points?! 

That wasn’t good.

That wasn’t good at all.

“Execute Order 67!” She commanded, watching as several of her birds nodded before taking off.

“67?” The Star repeated. “What are the other 66? Hey!” He yelped, jumping out of the way to narrowly avoid  Enrique who rapidly nose-dived towards him as the others followed suit. 

“Sorry- I- wait!” The star called ducking this way and that from the birds. Had the situation not been so desperate, Asha was certain she would’ve laughed at the distraction her birds had bought her, but now was not the time for her to be distracted.

She grabbed the full cart, quickly pushing it down the aisle, as she rapidly placed books on the passing barren shelves as she ducked out of the way of several dusters that were busy getting rid of cobwebs. 

Both the fully stocked cart and Valentino were waiting for her at the other end of the aisle. 

“And just like that it seems the score is now tied!” called one crow from overhead.

Valentino proudly stood in front of the cart of books he’d helped push as she grinned, quickly placing him onto the cart before taking off as fast as she could down another aisle, stacking the books as she passed by the partially empty shelves. 

She repeated this for three more aisles, running and shelving as quickly as she could. She only paused to catch her breath at the end of the aisle when she briefly caught sight of the male crow’s figure soaring overhead, proclaiming, “And that puts Asha in the lead by Sixty points!” 

Sixty points huh? She smiled victoriously at Valentino before looking around for any sign of the still-absent star. Thankfully, all she could see was her birds still performing nose dives on the other side of the library where she had hoped they’d kept the star distracted. 

It was time to bring that sixty up to eighty.

Swiftly, she grabbed a pile of books as Valentino joined her at the rolling ladder, climbing on as she began to push it as quickly as she could. 

Leaping, she grabbed onto the ladder as it flew down the aisles, quickly placing and stocking the books on the shelves as they moved by. 

Valentino excitedly pleated, enjoying the ride as they neared the end of Asha’s pile of books, and with it the end of the aisle. 

Slowly, she brought the ladder to a stop, before gesturing Valentino to move down a bit. The last book she’d had was a physics book, one that from the looks of things, belonged on the top shelf. The same top shelf that her ladder was too short to reach.

“Hold the ladder for me,” she instructed Valentino as she climbed to the top step. 

She tried to ignore how tall the bookshelf was, or how high up she was as she slowly began to reach forward with the book. 

She really needed to build a ladder for this library, didn’t she?

“C’mon,” she whispered, feeling sweat gather on her brow as she continued to reach forward.

The book in her hand was only a few centimeters away from fully sliding onto the shelf when the ladder seemed to shake underneath her grasp. 

Just a little more-

All she would need was another inch and-

“Ha!” she laughed victoriously as the book slid from her fingers onto its place on the bookshelf. 

A sense of pride filled her, one that would’ve lasted longer had she not lost her balance at that moment and toppled backward off of the ladder.

There wasn’t even time to scream as she saw the crow fly overhead, cawing something in alarm as it helplessly watched her. 

If she were lucky, maybe she’d get out of this with only a sprain, but if she had been lucky, she probably wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.

She’d nearly expected to feel herself hit the floor, but it never came as she felt something or someone catch her.

“Asha?” came the star’s voice as she caught sight of his concerned face only a few inches from hers. “Are you alright?”

No. She wasn’t alright. She’d nearly fallen and now her heart was racing.

She squirmed out of his grasp, striking her chest as she forcefully coughed, “I will be when my stupid heart- is still!” She halted, feeling the star’s presence loom over her. 

He was close, dangerously close.

Had it been any other time, she would’ve been afraid.

But he said he couldn’t hurt her, could he?

And then there was the fact that he couldn’t fight.

And now she was feeling unreasonable. 

“But wouldn’t you die if it stoppe-,” he paused as she stood to her feet, moving towards him as fast as she could. Swiftly, she grabbed his arm, turned inwards, and shifted her weight to rotate. 

The setup for the hip toss couldn’t have been any more perfect as she began to tug forward, ready to flip him over had she not felt a sudden tug of resistance.

She tugged again, this time subtly adjusting her technique to throw him from another angle. 

Once again he did not budge. 

He was doing the opposite of budging as she looked down, noting how his leg had subtly intertwined with hers as he’d not only extended one of his feet in between hers but had lowered his center of gravity.

Was…was he countering her? 

No, no, no that shouldn’t have been possible! Not if what her Saba had said was true then there was no way that the star had actually and meaningfully countered her! This had to have been terrible luck on her part!

“Asha?” he asked, glancing from her to her futile hold on his arm. “Asha, what are you doing?”

‘Taking advantage of the fact that you’re a terrible fighter,’ her mind answered before she risked a glance at his face. He… didn’t look mad, no he just looked fascinated. 

“Uhhh,”

“Are you trying to Julian me?” he asks, his expression an unreadable cross between curiosity and amusement.

“What? No! Never! I would never do that!” she snapped, abruptly letting go of his arm. “This is just how we say hi in some countries!”

“Really?”

“Yep, absolutely!”

“Oh! Well then!” he shook his arm before smiling. “Hello, Asha!”

God, she hated this. How could that have not worked? The setup was perfect! He’d been wide open! Sure he’d been strong, but sometimes not even strength could beat technique when it had the element of surprise on its side. 

But that stance he’d done to counteract the throw… had it just been a coincidence? He seemed sort of oblivious as to what she’d been trying to do...

“How is your day going Asha?”

She glanced past him to the books in his hand, as another wicked idea hit her. 

She smiled, yanking the books from his grasp as she bolted down the book aisle away from him as Valentino joined her. 

She hurriedly slid the books onto the shelves before calling over her shoulder, “It’s going great! Thanks for asking!”

The star said nothing. He didn’t even turn to face her as his fingers merely grasped at the space that the books had once occupied. 

There was no time to waste on figuring out whether or not he was shocked or angry as she made her way to the outermost book aisle where her empty cart was. 

From the outskirts of her vision, she could see several mops, brooms, and buckets working on the other parts of the library as she began to push the cart forward.

She grunted, surprised at the sudden resistance the cart offered before slowly coming to a complete halt.

Valentino panickily pleated, gesturing for her to look down, at the sight of several ivy vines wrapping and coiling themselves around the cart’s wheels, keeping it firmly in place.

Ok, well she guessed that answered the question of how the star was currently reacting to her yanking the books from him. 

She glanced down the aisle, just as the brooms and mops came closer; this time blocking the path between her and the other cart as she slowly caught sight of the thick vines of ivy that had begun to wrap around its wheels as well.

Valentino pleated, reaching forward to take a bite from the ivy before grinning and taking another. 

“Oh,” Asha gasped. “You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?” Valentino grinned as she looked from him to the cart at the other end of the aisle. “Think you have room for more?” she asked as the goat triumphantly nodded, taking off down the aisle as he dodged the various sweeping brooms and moving mops. 

He’d been lucky that none of the brooms or mops seemed primarily concerned with him as he made his way to the other end, leaving her alone to gather several books before she risked a glance at the mops and brooms that had come closer, and closer 

Now it was her turn.

She glanced from the approaching brooms, mops, and buckets to the floating furniture that lingered nearby.

It was either now or never.

She took off, charging straight towards the mops, brooms, and buckets as they began to approach. 

The chaos of the cleaning crowd nearly enveloped her before she took a sharp left, hopping onto a floating chair before leaping onto the table and then a floating bench.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down,” she whispered to herself over and over as she felt herself climb higher and higher. 

“Fly Asha! Fly!” called the crow as she swallowed a scream before jumping onto another floating table. It tilted downwards as she slid, launching herself onto another chair before leaping to a nearby stool. 

The crows oohed and ahhed, evidently impressed by the display as she jumped from the stool, grabbing onto the old chandelier as she swung herself onto the top of another table.

“Go ASHA GO!” one sang as the others joined in.

She was glad they were enjoying this, as frankly, this had easily been the craziest thing she’d done all year. 

She’d nearly been halfway down the aisle when the floating path of furniture came to an abrupt end. Now she’d have no choice but to go through the waiting crowd of sweeping brooms and mops.

Asha wasn’t sure how she was going to do this, but all she knew was that if the star thought this was going to be enough to stop her, then he had another thing coming!

She grimaced, leaping onto the last piece of furniture which had consisted of a chair that had thankfully been at a lower altitude than most of its other counterparts. 

But there’d been no time to get comfortable as she felt the floating chair quickly begin to move toward the brooms and mops that were now approaching.

She swallowed a scream, leaping backward as she watched the chair disappear into the depths of the crowd of the brooms.

Ducking underneath several dusters, she continued running, watching as rags flew overhead all in an attempt to hit or distract her as a line of buckets approached, spilling out their contents in her path.

“AHHHHH!” she screamed, jumping to dodge another duster that had aimed towards her feet as she landed, this time knocking over a bucket as she turned it downwards, clumsily balancing herself on it as they began to slide forward.

She’d been no stranger to sliding down wet hallways with the other apprentices (much to the chagrin of the head staff) but it had been years since she’d done it, and it felt no safer now than it had back then.

She wobbled, doing her best to balance as she dodged the incoming rags.

Why did she have a feeling that if she fell this time, the star would most definitely not catch her?

Soon more buckets turned themselves over, spilling even more water into her path as she did her best to not fall off the bucket. Slowly she leaned, feeling the bucket skate in the direction she’d shifted in.

A laugh escaped her lips as she slowly but surely began to skate back and forth around other buckets, mops, and brooms, watching them collide with one another in an attempt to stop her.

Was it just her or was this sort of fun?

“And with that Cepheus has closed the gap and is now taking the lead by twenty points!”

Twenty points? That was all she needed to snap out of it as she scowled, balancing herself on the bucket as she began to hurriedly weave around the mops and brooms, placing the books in her hands on the passing bookshelves.

The surrounding crows roared with cheers as she successfully dodged more brooms and mops.

“Go Asha!” her crow cheered. “You got this!”

“Not quite,” she replied, catching sight of the final wall of mops that separated her from the cart. She hopped back, forcefully striking the back of the bucket with her foot as it launched forward, knocking a broom over. 

The crows were roaring with praises as she raced through the newly formed entrance, grabbing one of the other brooms as she swung herself around the corner of the bookcase and landed perfectly at the foot of the cart. 

She stood up, posing perfectly as she placed her last book on a nearby shelf before bowing to the crowd of cheering crows.

A full Valentino burped, the vines were noticeably gone as he staggered unevenly on his legs.

“ Ten out of ten!”

“WOOOOO!”

“Did you see that?”

“Coolest human ever!”

She paused, catching sight of the star at the other end of the aisle, as several brooms and mops began to resume cleaning, quickly clearing up the mess that had transpired.

Despite his small smile, he looked vaguely impressed, as she grinned victoriously, flipping her hair over her shoulder before she grabbed the cart and took off once more.

It was time to close the gap.

Twenty minutes later…“Asha takes the lead with seventy points!”

“Cepheus has tied the score once more, before taking a lead of fifty points!”

“Asha now comes back with a vengeance, closing the gap as she takes the lead by ten points!”

“But Cepheus isn’t done yet! He attacks, taking the lead by twelve points?”

“Only twelve?” the crow called as Asha successfully emptied another cart. They shrugged in unison before turning their attention back to the competitors.

“As the end of the second hour draws near, there’s only a handful of books left! Who will come out on top? I can’t wait to see!”

Asha sighed, finishing her aisle as she nearly collapsed in exhaustion. She’d lost track of how many books she’d stacked, but at least she was more than halfway done. Maybe she could win this…

“and Asha takes the lead once more with an astounding eighty points!”

“Oh, but it looks like Cepheus is back on the prowl, tying the score once more! We are going down to the wire! Only a few handful of books are left!”

That was all she needed to hear to carry out stacking the rest of the books in the aisle.

“Asha has just upped her points by 30! But Cepheus quickly evens the score once more! We are down to one book people! One book!”

“There’s only ten minutes left until time runs out!” Corvias chimed in.

“It’s a race to see who will find it first!” the crow declared.

Great now, all she had to do was find and grab the last book to break the tie. Then she’d finally be able to get rid of the- …

She felt her heart skip a beat as the star came into view at the other end of the aisle, blocking her path.

If he wasn’t going to move then she’d have to make him. 

She’d run him over with the cart if she had- “Wait hold on- what are you-,” she watched in horror as his shape changed to that of the horrid orbital creature she’d originally seen him in the forest as. 

Oh no. Not this again!  

He floated towards her menacingly, pounding his two tiny hands together as his eyes narrowed. 

“S-stay back!” She screeched, taking a step backward as she let go of the empty cart. The star floated forward.

Oh, how she wished she’d kept that stick. She screamed, taking off as he flew after her, chasing her up and down the aisles.

“Get away from me!!!” She yelled narrowly weaving through the brooms and mops.

She needed something to throw at him- maybe a duster or a broom or a mop could do the tri-, she screamed feeling her foot hit a book, or more specifically the last book, as she tripped forward.

The crows gasped as the entire library fell silent. All watched in anticipation as Asha neared the ground, all save for one being.

The star rushed forward, his form changing as he grabbed Asha, quickly rolling through before she (accidentally) pinned him underneath her. 

His speed had been startling, but luckily for her, it had seemed as if he’d taken the brunt of the impact, quietly staring up at her in surprise as she laid her elbow across his chest, pinning him down.

Silence seemed to fill the library as she reluctantly took in the star beneath her.

As much as she hated to admit it, when they were close like this, it wasn’t hard to see why Abigail and her friends had acted the way they did around the star. 

And maybe if he’d been human, she would’ve acted the same way too.

 But he’d told her that this form wasn’t real, and worst of all he was a magical being.

“Asha-,” he started as she increased the pressure on his chest. He blinked in surprise before his eyes narrowed. “What are you-,”

“We’re tied,” she spat out in between deep breaths. “Meaning that if the time runs out-,”

“You won’t win,” he finished.

“But neither will you and….” She could feel her body tremble as she reminded herself over and over again that he’d sworn he couldn’t hurt her, not even if he wanted to. “...If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

“Oh? But that doesn’t sound very fair-,”

“Newsflash star boy, look around you- nothing in life is fair. If it were then….” she felt the next few words die on her tongue as she thought of her father and grandmother, before quickly dispelling such thoughts. 

She couldn’t take her attention off of the star, not when he was so close.

He hummed, glancing from her to the ceiling thoughtfully sighing “And here I thought all humans were nice and happy little creatures, living quite simplistic little lives, eagerly awaiting the day to see their wishes granted. I didn’t think they could be so destructive, fearful, and vindictive. I didn’t imagine it to even be possible,” he chuckled, his smile returning as his eyes met hers. “But then there is you..”

She narrowed her eyes, not moving an inch as she felt her heart race. “We’re not like that. At least, not all of us anyway. You can’t just define people with broad terms like that. They’re much more complex than you think!” The star only hummed in response, before she frowned once more, “But why would you think that? That all humans are happy, nice, and live simplistic lives waiting for…wishes?”

“It’s what I’ve been told.”

“Told?” He said he wasn’t a lone star, right, but now she was curious. “Who told you that?”

He glanced toward her, his eyes swimming with varying shades of blue as if he were debating whether or not to answer. “Another star.”

“Was it the wishing star?”

He looked away from her as his smile vanished. “She told me.”

“Is the wishing star your superior?”

“It depends on what you mean by that.”

“Is she your alpha star?”

“No, not mine.”

“So who’s your alpha star?”

A strange silence fell over the library, as she watched the star cover his mouth with his hand before his eyes pierced hers. “Care for another wager? If you give me this victory, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

She scowled, only pressing down on him harder. “Why would I give you anything ? I’m trying to prove a point here!”

“Oh? And what point is that?”

She pursed her lips, “How about you give me this victory, then I’ll show you that point.”

He laughed, his body moving underneath hers as he replied, “You’re certainly a wicked little human, you know that?”

She scoffed, “I’m not wicked, I’m desperate! Sure they’re not mutually exclusive, but drastic times call for drastic measures!”

“Indeed, so I hope you’ll understand when I do this,” he leaned back, gently grasping her forearm as she felt her heart race. Her grip on him slipped as he let go of her and she quickly felt herself begin to float a few feet upwards, screaming as the surrounding crows began to roar to life.

The height he had her at wasn’t high enough to kill her, but certainly enough to keep her out of the way for now. She screamed, “Put me down!” Vainly flailing her arms, she watched the star casually stand up. The last book slowly floating towards him.

He was closing the gap, evidently intent on taking the victory for himself. 

“And just like that ladies and gentlemen we are nearing the end of the designated period! Oh! We may be looking at our winner!” Corvias called, practically brimming with anticipation.

Maybe she would’ve been fine with it, had the last book he not levitated towards himself been a familiar spell book, or more specifically one of the king’s spell books. She remembered how he’d instructed her to learn from it, back when he’d believed in the sliver of her non-existent potential. 

But nothing she’d done had been enough, and the book had quickly found itself here, destined to be forgotten until now as it neared the star’s grasp.

Forgotten or not, she couldn’t let the star read it. There was no telling how he would react or what would happen if he opened it.

Her mind quickly grappled for a solution as she reached for her shoe, sliding it off of her foot as she pitifully squeaked out, “I…I thought you said you couldn’t hurt me!”

“I’m not-,” he paused as he glanced back at her. “You’re not floating too high are you?”

“Nope!” she snapped as she threw her shoe, watching it hit the book out of the surprised star’s hand as she landed, quickly tackling him over.

To her surprise, the star didn’t say much as she bolted past him and toward the fallen book.

She’d nearly reached it when she felt him grab her, trying to pull the book from her grasp as they both fell over.

“Get…off of me!” she snapped. 

“Very well then,” the star nodded, taking a step back as he released her. 

She stood to her feet, staring at the star in shock, “You…you actually listened to me?”

“Of course I did! And besides I don’t need to be on you to take it from you anyways-,” he smiled as Asha felt the book tear itself from her grasp and fly towards him. 

It had nearly reached him when her birds came into view, rapidly nose-diving him as Asha grabbed the cart, shoving it towards him. 

He moved to the side in surprise, evidently distracted by both cart and birds. That distraction was all she needed as the book halted in mid-air allowing her to grab it as she hopped onto the cart that had begun to race down the aisle. 

She couldn’t believe that had actually worked! 

Now all she needed to do was put it back in its proper place, which unfortunately for her was on the other side of the library.

No matter…as long as she stayed ahead of the star, then she could do this. “All I need to do is stay away from the star,” she repeated to herself. 

“Yep, there’s no way he can get to you now!” came Cepheus’s voice as she turned to see him casually sitting down behind her on the cart.

“HOW-,” she began, only to pause as she felt the cart turn itself around the corner. “Where did you even come from?!”

“The sky Asha. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d like to have the book please.”

She shook her head.

“You’re very tenacious,” he began, reaching for the book as his hands glowed and she began to feel the book shake. “I appreciate it, really. It makes things interesting. Now the book-”

“No. Are you insane?!”

“Yes. Now may I have the-

“NO!”

“Please.”

“I said no!” she scoffed, slapping his hand away as she put as much distance between herself and him as the cart would allow. She’d nearly been about to brace herself for any sort of offense from the star when she saw him turn his attention back to the wheels, evidently being the reason why it was turning around the corners.

They’d nearly rounded another corner when Asha moved forward to take advantage of his distracted state. Quickly, she placed her foot on his chest using it to gently push him backward in an attempt to increase the distance between them.

She hadn’t expected him to nearly topple off the side of the cart in surprise as the magic flew from his fingertips, striking the old clock as they turned another corner.

There was no time to worry over the old clock as the sudden weight shift forced it on its side wheels. 

She wasn’t sure what had possessed her there and then, but she reached forward, pulling him back to safety as the cart managed to rebalance itself.

Could the star have saved himself? Most certainly. 

But part of her didn’t like the idea of him getting hurt during the competition, not after he’d gone out of his way to save her twice when he hadn’t needed to.

She just hoped this act hadn’t cost her the win.

The star laughed, gently releasing her as the cart continued down another aisle, “So you really have been attacking me! With the hip throw, the birds, and the shoe! And here I thought that all this time you were afraid of me!”

‘I still am,’ her mind feebly confessed as the star laughed and laughed.

“Boldness certainly becomes you, Asha!” 

“As defeat does you,” she answered, barely taking note of the breakneck speed that the cart was now going at it as they arrived at the final aisle for spell books. 

They were nearing the book’s destination, as Asha slowly began to reach forward. The book was a mere inch away from the shelf when she felt the star’s hand grab her wrist, pulling them both off of the cart and onto the ground below.

Somehow the star had managed to turn them mid-air so his body had struck the ground first, something Asha was sure she’d have appreciated if she hadn’t been fighting so hard.

They tumbled this way and that, rolling around the floor as she struggled to escape the star’s hold. But alas his strength won out as she found herself pinned beneath him with the book in his hands.

She had to get up! She had to get that spell book away from him! Who knows what would happen if he opened its pages? 

He looked from her to the book in his hands before frowning, “You know, bragging rights aside, this was a lot of effort over a cookbook…I honestly think I sort of got carried away.”

A cookbook? She paused. A cookbook? 

She could’ve nearly kicked herself as the star held the book upside down, casually examining its cover.

How had she forgotten that he couldn’t read?

Ugh.

“It was,” she confessed, not feeling too proud about her efforts or the position she was in. “I guess I got carried away too. But at least the library got the cleaning it deserved.”

The star nodded, examining the book once more before he asked, “Is this a good cookbook?”

She looked away, trying to not remember all those nights she’d spent pointlessly studying its pages. “Nope.”

“Oh,” he looked disappointed. “I was hoping it had more delicious earth recipes…oh well,” he climbed off of her. His expression became concerned. “Are you alright Asha? You’re not hurt?”

“No I’m fine,” she brushed herself off as she sat up.

“Well that’s a relief, I was worried that for a second there you might’ve gotten hurt.”

She shrugged. She was no stranger to being hurt, and she had more or less assured the star that he could use any means necessary as long as it wasn’t lethal force. 

“Asha?” came the star’s voice once more, breaking the silence.

“...Yes?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you looked so beautiful in defeat?”

She laughed incredulously, “Beautiful in defe-,” her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the spell book levitating overhead before it quickly slid itself into the bookshelf.

 The crowd of crows erupted into cheers.

“So, about tomorrow-,” the star smiled.

“What?!” It took a minute for the star’s words to sink in. “No- NO!” Asha screamed, before pointing to the star accusingly. 

“Yes.”

“NOOO!” she wailed. ”Why me? Why me?”

He only smiled, as Corvias landed on his shoulder, proclaiming, “And just like that we have our winner! Congratulations, Uhh…uhhh Cepheus!”

Asha groaned, there was no way she was going to go through this. She either needed to hide in the forest or swim out into the ocean. 

“Oh c’mon Asha!” the star laughed. “It’ll be fun! I promise you won’t have a bad time!”

“I think I’d rather become a chambermaid,” she groaned. First, she’d hallucinated about the blackbird and now she had to waste an entire day of her vacation on the star. Could this day get any worse?

A heavy series of knocks answered her question as all eyes turned to the library’s door and the prince’s voice called, “Asha are you in there? We’ve come to help!”

“She’s probably lost in a sea of dust,” came Dahlia’s voice. “If you wanted to help her you should’ve come earlier.”

“You know why I couldn’t!” came the prince’s voice accusingly. “And I mean have you heard the sounds coming from this place? It sounds like she’s having a party in there!”

“Or an intimate meeting-,”

An intimate meeti- oh she was going to kill Dahlia for that one. 

“Quickly!’ she whispered to the surrounding crows. The prince would lose his mind if he saw so many birds in one place. “Go! Go!” 

The crows didn’t need a third warning as she watched them all race out of the window before she turned her attention to the star. 

There was no way she was going to let the prince see him either, not after how their last ‘meeting’ had gone.

Quickly (and with a bit more force than necessary) she roughly shoved the star into the nearest closet.

“Asha?” he whispered, blinking in surprise. “Asha, what are you doing?”

“I’m wishing that you’d get lost! That’s what! Now shhh!” she hissed before slamming the door shut, just as she heard the library door open.

“Hey, Asha!” came the prince’s voice as he and Dahlia entered. “We’ve come to rescue….” he never finished the sentence as Asha watched him and Dahlia both pale as she raced over.

“Hey, Dahlia! Hey Ignacio!” she grinned nervously, trying to gauge their stunned expressions. “Is…is something wrong?”

“Yes!” the prince nodded, as Dahlia adjusted her glasses, before stepping past her and towards the fireplace. “Asha this place looks…incredible! I’ve never seen the floors so clean! Look at the curtains! And the fountain! You even watered the plants!”

“I can’t remember the last time I ever saw those windows open,” Dahlia commented, before glancing to Asha. “How’d you do that?”

“Oh you know me, I just told myself that I could, so I did!” she lied.

“Right.” Dahlia did not look the slightest bit convinced before the prince returned, his eyes were wide as he smiled at Asha. 

From the way how he smiled, Asha would’ve assumed that he liked her as much as he liked the other apprentices.

But that thought quickly died at his following words.

“Hey, Asha when did the doomsday clock start working again?!”

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Wardrobe Malfunctions (3/?)

Here's another one ^u^ Had a little bit of a hiatus, and while i didn’t really write much in that time, I’ll most likely be able to get more stuff posted soon. The next chapter of Distorted Reflections is very close to done, so look forward to that ^u^

Warnings: making fun of Four

After a long day of walking up and down mountainsides, Four was about ready to collapse immediately. Of course, as one of the (barely) older members of the group, he refused to betray just how tired the trip had made him. So when they were finally making camp for the night, he ignored dinner and instead dumped his bedroll somewhat close to where the fire would be and fell asleep almost immediately. 

In hindsight, he really should have looked before dumping his bedroll and then himself there.

When he woke up, he felt sore, which was expected at least. But when he stretched and then moved to run his fingers through his hair, his hand got stuck in the snarl of hair. He frowned, still somewhat asleep, and retracted his hand from the tangle. Despite the displeased cold feeling he got from ignoring his messy hair, he got up and headed over to the fire, taking a seat on the ground and watching Wild mix something in the pot over the fire. 

When he heard snickering, he looked over at Twilight, who had some dried brush in his hands as he got closer.

“Sleep well there, Smithy?” he asked, amused.

Four’s brows furrowed.

“Pretty sure I slept on a rock, and I think my hair is probably suffering from bedhead, but otherwise, I slept fine.”

Wild laughed.

“Bedhead might be an understatement,” Wild replied.

Four shrugged, not bothered yet. He knew he probably looked messy, which would explain the increasing cold feeling, but he was not yet in the state to care about that. He continued to watch the fire and the food being cooked as the rest of the group woke up and joined around the fire.

Wild dished out oatmeal, chopping up some berries and fruit to add to it, and digging into his supply of courser bee honey and sugar cane to offer to the meal. Four, of course, was left indecisive and just grabbed a bit of everything to add to his meal, eating bits at a time. As the meal continued and the others grew more awake, the sound of barely concealed laughter met his ears. Now more awake, he glared at the instigators. 

“What? I know I have bedhead already, so what’s so funny?” 

Legend shook his head.

“It ain’t just bedhead. You look like Wild and Hyrule after an adventure through the woods.”

“Mm!” Warriors quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, pointing his spoon at Legend, “That’s a great comparison! I was gonna say he looks like Wolfie when he tries to itch his back in the dirt!”

There was a round of loud laughter that Four just huffed at, placing his bowl on the ground and standing up.

“Alright, if you’re all quite done, who's got a mirror shield I can borrow?”

Time willingly handed his over with a chuckle, and Four took a second to observe his appearance. His blond hair was stuck together in sticky clumps, pine needles sticking out of the clumps every which way, and some branches finding a home in the larger tangle he had found earlier. The cold feeling increased, a flash of anger making him inhale sharply. 

He dropped the mirror shield, giggles from behind him, forcing his feet to rush to his bag that was haphazardly dropped next to his bedroll the night before. He tore through it, grabbing his hair brush and the hair products that had been forced upon him the last time he had visited Dot. He ran through the woods and toward the pond they had passed by before making camp. He dunked his head in, letting the lukewarm water hopefully get rid of the sticky mess of sap that made its way into his hair last night. He ran his fingers through it, trying to dislodge as much dirt and debris from his hair as possible. Of course, it wasn’t working as well as he had hoped it would, and he sat back on his knees, hair wet and dripping, sighing.

“Hey Four, you need help?”

Four jumped, spinning around to see Wind standing there, hands raised peacefully and with a hairbrush in one hand. Four narrowed his eyes.

“You aren’t here to make fun of me, are you?”

“No, that’s already happened and been done. I’m just here to try and help you out.”

Four sighed, shrugging and then turning back around to face the water.

“Go ahead.”

Wind stepped closer, and his pants rolled up to his thighs as he stepped into the water. He dipped the brush in and then carefully brushed through the large chunks of hair stuck together. He paused every so often to pick dirt and sticks from the mass of hair but would return to brushing it soon after. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Wind hummed happily and released his hold on Four’s head.

“It’s not perfect, you’re gonna need like a warm bath or something to fix it completely, but this is pretty close to normal.”

Wind stepped out of the water and let Four take a moment to peer at his reflection in the water, shaking his still wet hair side to side to see that a lot of the larger sticks and pine needles that had been there were gone. Parts of his hair were still stuck together in clumps, but it was less than it had been.

“Thanks, Wind, I appreciate it,” He said, smiling back at the younger hero.

“No problem,” Wind smiled back, then his grin turned mischievous, “Hey, how about we get them back for this?”

Four’s grin widened.

“I’m listening.”

[toweroftunes]

waaaaaay 😭 more than six sentences sunday ☀️

thank you for the tag as always @silluuuu!!! OKAY. as you know, I wanted to get Chapter 2 done by today (and was even writing more of it last night), but I'd rather have it be decent than rushed. that said, I'm including the beginning of this chapter below the cut because Happy New Year's and stuff!!!

anyway, please also enjoy Wes meeting Maka for technically the second time:

~~~~~

Turning around, Wes finally noticed that there was another person in the room. A person who was not his brother. A person who was now privy to the details of his sex life.

Not that Wes actually cared. He merely tilted his sunglasses up to the top of his head and said, “Oh. Hellooo.”

“Hello,” Maka replied.

Wes slid past Soul and sat in the seat next to Maka, extending his hand. “Wes Evans. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m usually ninety six percent less hungover, and twenty two percent more charming.”

Where the hell was he getting those numbers from? Soul briefly buried his face in his right hand. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Maka.”

~~~~~

(Grain of salt, people. This is un-betaed):

~~~~~

Maka’s mouth was dry. Opening her eyes in a bleary state, she reached for the water she normally kept on her nightstand, only to find her arm falling through thin air instead. Oh, right. She wasn’t at home. She was at Soul’s place.

The dull throb of an oncoming headache spread across the left side of her skull. She pulled the blanket she was wrapped in over her face and groaned. Damn. She was supposed to get stuff done today. Ah, well, wouldn’t get to it any faster if she kept on laying there, would she?

So, Maka slowly sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes. On the coffee table a few feet away sat a small pile of pins and ties she’d made when she let her hair down. Next to it sat her water from the night before, mostly full. She knelt on the ground and inched her way over to it. After tossing back a good portion of the glass, Maka set her elbows on the table, buried her head in her hands, and let out a soft laugh.

It was kinda funny, wasn’t it? How things turn out sometimes?

At one point or another, she texted Star that she was staying at a friend’s. She didn’t bother to see what he texted back. Probably something inappropriate or annoying, but most likely both.

Shit, her phone! Where was…ah, she’d left it in her coat.

Turning her head in the direction of where she remembered the front door to be, she stood up and stretched out. Alright then…phone, phone, phone. She hoped it was still charged. 

Walking over to the coat rack, she took in just how nice Soul’s apartment was.

‘It’s not like, super dirty or anything,’ he’d said last night. ‘But I didn’t clean before I went out tonight, ya know?’ 

Maka remembered saying something she thought was funny, but looking back was probably embarrassing, in response. ‘Are you telling me that a potato flew around your room before I came?’ 

It couldn’t have been all too bad, though, because she remembered him laughing back, fumbling with his keys. ‘Really into your internet jokes, aren’t you?’ 

‘Who isn’t?’ 

‘Yeah, well, all I’m saying is that it usually doesn’t rain, ya know?’

There were smatterings of mess here and there, but living with Star, she’d seen worse. No doubt, when she got home, there’d be a full kitchen sink to still clean up. Lamenting that fact, she admired Soul’s clean enough kitchen and its shiny, matching appliances. 

The exposed brick in the hall made her think the place might be a gut-job. Or maybe it was just meant to look that way for character, or whatever it was people liked so much about exposed brick. Either way, Soul must be paying big bucks for it. Tall ceilings, a snow-dusted balcony, and a living room large enough to comfortably fit a grand effing piano in the corner – all that was definitely more than the six seventy five a month she was paying living with Star and Tsu.

Reaching the entryway and making for her coat, she wondered not for the first time in the last twelve hours, how he actually afforded this place. In her wondering, she shoved her hands a tad too roughly into her pockets, causing the coat to fall to the floor. 

“Come on…” she muttered to herself. Kneeling down to grab the thing, she was met eye-level with a large frame covered in semi-torn bubble wrap, leaning against the wall. Peaking out at the edge of the ripped plastic, was an overly serious version of someone who looked an awful lot like Soul. 

Maka would like to say that no one could accuse her of being nosy, but the fact of the matter was that she’d been accused of such behavior more times than she could count on her fingers and toes combined. She was old enough now to accept it. So she peeled the plastic back.

NIGHT HEIST — Coming to Theaters November 12.

And there he was, face shadowed in the corner, but one hundred percent totally there.

Soul Evans. 

What…the fuck?

Maka’s hand reached back for her phone on the floor and gripped it tight in her fingers, her brain rapidly trying to recall how exactly she’d ended up spending the night with a fucking movie star without noticing she was spending the night with a fucking movie star.

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // can't go back.

all the self-loathing in the world won't change a thing.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: poor self-care / mentions of skipping meals and overworking

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of the night patrol that left Ron wounded, it's time for Daisy to not only open her eyes, but put down her cross.

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin

He’s gone before she wakes up in the morning, stretcher and all. Her jacket had been placed around her shoulders, she doesn’t know who did it. Carolyn tells her that they came later in the night for him. He’s being moved to battalion and probably a hospital after that, but she doesn’t know much else. The information is a sweet gesture, but all Daisy does is nod stiffly. Her hands are still crusted over with the blood from his wounds. Every time she looks at them, she wants to cry.

She doesn’t though. In the morning she stretches out her stiff muscles and drinks the too-bitter coffee and smiles at soldiers in greeting who haven’t the slightest clue what transpired in the night.

Not that it matters anyway, because she’s learned that time stops for no one. The war keeps moving and there are wounds to treat, sicknesses to tend to, sheets that need cleaning and supplies that need shipping. All of which she’s more than content to do, to occupy her brain with anything but him and her hand and that feeling of her heart shattering, hearing his groan of pain. Like this wasn’t just a nurse and a soldier, like they were—

She doesn’t dare finish that sentence.

Keep pushing forward. She repeats the mantra, and it takes on different voices each time. Her own. Her brother’s. Her mother’s. It was her father’s saying, but the acknowledgement only irritates her, so she skirts past that. Keep pushing forward.

She stares at her trembling hand, balls it into a fist, then looks at Carolyn. Her fiery red hair is coming out of its bun, falling in her eyes as she balls up brown and bloodied bandages.

“How’re we doing with bandages?” Carolyn looks down at the ball, lips pressing into a thin line.

“You think any of those villages have hot water? Maybe soap?” is her reply. That’s all Daisy needs to hear. The Island is littered in smaller communities, minute enough that most of them didn’t memorize the names, but had rough estimations of how to get there — a sharp contrast from the city of Uden itself, which was hard-fought and bombed-out.

“Wouldn’t hurt to check. I’ll go ask Ward. See if we can head over with a couple of riflemen maybe, just in case.” Carolyn nods slowly for a moment. Daisy turns on her heel to leave.

“Wait—” she turns back around. Carolyn stares at her, green eyes narrowed, fisting the ball of bandages in her hands. Up, then down, her brows furrow in discontentment and Daisy shifts uncomfortably under her stare. There’s a pause, and then: “How’re… you feeling? After, you know—”

“After Speirs?” Daisy responds, uncharacteristically blunt. Just tired, she rationalizes. Carolyn nods.

“Yeah. After Speirs.” Daisy lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment before waving her hand flippantly, straightening out her shoulders and staving off any harsher words she wants to use.

“He’s fine. I’m fine. He’s not dead and maybe he’ll get sent home for this one. Good for him,” It’s almost funny, in a sort of cruel way. Just last night she wanted to whisk him away, away from war, from guns, from everything — but the very thought of not seeing him again until the end of the war makes her sick to her stomach. And if Carolyn wasn’t staring at her, trying to pick apart her words, she might’ve laughed at her own selfishness. “I mean how much trouble can a fella get into on a hospital train, right?” It’s meant to be a joke, but Carolyn just nods, breaking eye contact.

“Fair enough. I’ll be… here then.”

It isn’t the last time the question will be posed to her.

She’s always been too perceptive for her own good. Feeling stares when they linger on her, hair standing on end when someone gets too close, noticing shifts in people’s facial expressions. She feels it every time she stands next to Liebgott or Roe for long enough and men who don’t know anything suspect something’s up. She sees it everytime pencil-pushing officers try to push her out of spaces she has a right to occupy. Likewise, now, she notices every lingering glance from the people around her, especially Ward and Foster. And while they may think they’re being subtle in their methods— they aren’t. For a rare moment, Daisy is undeniably annoyed.

A simple ‘Good morning’ is always followed up with a stare held for a moment too long. Nonverbal, but Daisy surmises a smile every single time, albeit a stiff one. ‘How’re you doing?’ always seems innocent enough, until she sees that subtle eyebrow quirk, or the slight squint of the eyes. Discerning. Like they’re trying to pick her apart.

“You look tired,” Ward observes one day.

“Rough night.” A short and quick response. Most nights are rough nights. If anything, peace has become a privilege. Even if she isn’t on duty, she tosses and turns. She shuts her eyes only to see Ronnie’s exhausted expression behind her eyelids. She hears his voice, thick and scratchy — are you a dream? On the rare occasion that she sleeps long enough to dream, the dreams are hardly ever peaceful. She’s always waist deep in water, always seconds away from being blown to smithereens. The people on shore crying out to her are identifiable now and that debatably makes it worse.

Ronnie always stands at the forefront, with his pretty hazel eyes.

Two weeks after Ronnie was shot, they moved again, closer to the Arnhem area. Allen hasn’t fully healed yet, so she’s still with Ward’s squad, still with scrutinizing stares that last too long and unwanted check-ins. Sometimes, she bites her cheek hard enough to draw blood, not wanting to be harsh.

It doesn’t matter if she’s okay or not. Logically, no one’s okay. They treat dying men every day, some of them crying out for God or their mothers or someone to save them and even then not everyone makes it. So even if every time she shuts her eyes she thinks of Ronnie, even if her eyes wander to the door hoping he’ll walk in with some type of small token to give her, even if the very thought of not seeing him again makes her chest ache — Daisy has to keep going. Just as she’s always done.

She can feel Carolyn’s eyes on her as they begin unpacking boxes of supplies, restocking their own AID kits with syrettes, bandages, sulfa powder, and other essentials. Daisy hears the sharp intake of breath, she doesn’t even need to look up at this point to know that the girl is about to speak.

“Don’t,” Daisy looks up at Carolyn. Her brows furrow, lips tugging into a frown. Daisy clenches her jaw for a moment. “You’re gonna ask me if I’m okay or how my day was or how I’m holding up, and I’m gonna tell you I’m fine and then you’re going to look at me and try to read between the lines. So just don’t bother asking. I’m fine.” The frustration is blatant in her voice as she unceremoniously puts wound tablets in her kit. Carolyn’s frown only deepens at that.

“Okay, fine. I won’t ask that. I’ll ask when you’re gonna stop lying every time I ask you about it.” she refutes. Daisy huffs.

“I’m not lying.”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit, Dais,” Carolyn puts her hands on her hips, staring at Daisy with narrowed eyes. “When was the last time you actually sat down and ate a full meal? Better yet— when was the last time you actually slept when it was your turn to sleep? Or even better: when was the last time you took a break without Ward having to practically coerce you into it, huh?!” Daisy can’t reply to that. She just swallows hard, knowing that her answers would only prove Foster’s point. Her rations often went half-eaten. She figured the lack of appetite was from the lack of sleep. And yesterday, Ward had essentially ordered her to take a break, because she refused to do it willingly.

Carolyn points an accusatory finger at her.

“The guys here may know fuck-all about the work that goes into what we do, but you can’t get anything past me. You’ve been on this speeding fucking train wreck ever since Lieutenant Speirs was shot and I just didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna assume anything.” She notes how Carolyn’s voice becomes quieter, and if Daisy’s senses weren’t dialed to a stress-induced eleven, she might’ve thanked her for that, through smile or words. But her shoulders stiffen and her heart pounds and she has to look away from Carolyn’s eyes.

“Have you been using the radio to talk to Rogers or something? There’s nothing to assume.”

“And how many times have you told yourself that one?” She walks into Daisy’s line of sight, so she’s forced to look at her. “For the love of Christ, Dais, if you aren’t gonna be honest with everyone else at least stop lying to yourself. The guy looks at you like you’re the best thing to come out of the war since penicillin and the jet engine.”

Don’t say that. That’s what she wants to say, maybe even beg. If other people are seeing it, that makes it tangible, real. And she needs this to not be real. There’s a girl in Boston with blotchy cheeks and enough anger to burn down a city festered in her heart, perched upon her shoulder and reminding her of that fact. You promised. It echoes in her head. You promised you wouldn’t do this. Have some self-preservation.

“You know what he asked us the first day we linked up with Dog?” A beat passes between them. “‘How’s Lieutenant Clarke?’ Not even so much as a hello. Straight to the point. Ward nearly laughed. Said you asked her the same thing about him. To check on him and make sure he was okay. And I may not know much about him but being happy is a universal thing. And he looked damn happy to know you were safe.”

She finds herself sinking onto the ground, back pressed against one of the heavy boxes, and shutting her eyes. Daisy takes a deep, shuddering breath, biting her lip to contain her emotions. She didn’t want to cry, not now anyway. But it’s too much. Daisy isn’t sure if she wants to scream, hit something, cry, or just let every ounce of guilt she feels pour out of her — finally let the dam break. But the very thought of communicating everything that’s led up to this point makes her nauseous.

She hears Carolyn’s huff as she sits down beside her.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re worse than me,” Daisy opens up one eye, raising a brow at her. Carolyn gives Daisy an empathetic sort of smile. “I was fighting with every goddamn nurse at the hospital over James. Everyone knew it. I just didn’t wanna admit it. You’re a little lucky though. Speirs is subtle about it. One of those looks you only really can read if you know what to look for. Guess it’s a good thing James always talked about ‘em.”

Daisy doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she doesn’t, and they lapse into a brief moment of silence. It isn’t necessarily uncomfortable. Carolyn takes her hand, gives it a squeeze and even though it doesn’t do much, she’s grateful for it nonetheless. Finally she turns to look at the woman fully.

“He wrote me a letter I just— I carried it on me. Never read it though.” Carolyn grins a bit at that.

“And when did he write it?” Daisy breaks eye contact again, staring at the floor

“I got it in July of last year.” Carolyn snorts at that, rolling her eyes.

“Remind me to never send you postage,” she remarks. Daisy laughs at it, weakly, and nods. “Are you gonna read it?” She looks at her fingers for a moment, shrugging halfheartedly.

“I might. Maybe. I don’t— I’m not sure.” Carolyn hums.

“Well if it’s a steamy love confession in there, I get first I-told-you-so privileges, alright?” Daisy rolls her eyes, and that’s all Carolyn needs to see to know she agrees to the terms laid out.

On November 20th, she’s finally moved back to Easy Company, much to Rita’s delight. And Joe’s. And Eugene’s. They don’t pry much about what Dog Company’s situation is like, and she doesn’t elaborate. But she lets Joe pull her into that spin-and-hug, and if Eugene gives her an inquisitorial look, like he knows something’s up, she gives him a smile to soothe his worry.

Rita fills her in on all that she’s missed — like how apparently Captain Winters made Battalion and one of their own guys, Moose Heyliger, was shot back in October by a nervous trooper. There’s more; bits and pieces about casualties, who saved whom, who died, who lived. Guarnere was wounded and had to be sent to the hospital. On the opposite end, Randleman’s shoulder wound is healing nicely in spite of previous refusal to go to the hospital.

Rumors swirl about the potential of them being pulled off the line, and it’s one of the few things that actually work at distracting her. Carolyn’s words continue to echo in her head.

If you aren’t gonna be honest with everyone else at least stop lying to yourself.

It’s one of the few things she can’t be oblivious to. Because if she’s going to be completely honest — she was denying it, for her own sake. So aware of his expressions that she didn’t even want to look at him fully when she saw him again. Ronnie was always transparent, in his own way. She knew that. He rarely ever said something he didn’t mean. Everything about him was deliberate. He didn’t like doing things he deemed unnecessary, or playing mind-games.

And Daisy knows herself, too. And knew what she had to do to protect herself. And actively ignored those precautions. So if anything, this predicament is her own doing. She feels like an idiot, and quite frankly, he deserves better than an idiot.

When she finally gets a moment to breathe, truly, it’s when she finds herself alone, outside the barn they’d used for a church of sorts. She sees Winters walk inside, but she doesn't follow, looping around the side to avoid onlookers.

Daisy sits outside, criss-crossed, not caring for mucking up her pants at this point as she stares at Ronnie’s letter, running her thumb over it meticulously.

His handwriting has always been better than hers — neat cursive, easy to read. She figures that maybe it’s from his accounting stint before the war. The paper is a little yellow with age, and there’s a brown thumbprint on it — likely from one of the times she’s looked at it with bloodied hands. Miraculously, it survived the cold waters of D-Day, and the blazing fires of Eindhoven. She’s grateful for that in retrospect, grateful for chickening out of giving it back.

Taking in a sharp breath, she runs her finger over the opening. The sound of the envelope splitting is deafening in her ears. She pulls out the letter inside with trembling hands, unfolds it from its neat thirds. The pencil is faded a bit from time, but otherwise still legible.

There are several letters just like this all back home, all opened and tucked away beneath her bed, never to see the light of day again.

Daisy takes in a deep breath, and starts to read.

Dear Daisy,

I don’t know why you haven’t written back yet. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t even know if you’ll actually read this, or if you’ve read any letter I’ve sent in the past few months. It’s like you’ve just disappeared. I know you’re there, because mom says you’re doing well, that you’ve got “big news” to share with me. I don’t know what that means — I’m a little scared to find out.

I miss you. I always miss you. I miss your laugh. I miss your smile. I miss your letters and all the things you tell me about — school and work and what you do in a day. I’ve missed you every day since I got on that train, Dais. I’ve been trying damn hard to focus on the war and just the war, and I do a pretty good job of it. But when I lie down at night or when I see the nurses or when the guys talk about their girls in town, I think of you. It’s always you.

I don’t know what I did, and I don’t know where you’ve gone. But if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I want to. I don’t know if we want the same things anymore but you’re too important to me to let slip away. I can’t beg for a response, I know that too. I just want to understand, if you’ll let me.

At any rate — take care of yourself.

Yours, Ronnie.

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @flashfictionfridayofficial "meeting of the minds"

While scrolling through the abyss which is a boutique store, Enna rose her head for a brief moment, to take a glance at the door. Her bird-like features examined the details of the paneling--the peeling cherry wood still gave out a weird feeling of warmth, despite its depreciated state.

Maybe I should've bought a nice suit for this meeting, she laughed at herself, examining the pale lapels of her ivory jacket. They started to wear down thanks to how she rubbed her hands all over them after eating Sun Chips. Over time, they not only got on her fingers and clothes, but also some bags layered over the car floor. The rental company would know about it somehow, and force her to clean up.

Or she could get Iodine to do it once she got back to Seattle.

Not much longer after Enna thought about it did the door swing open, and an olive-skinned man burst from the room. He arranged his dress shirt with an awkward charm, but the rest of his composure read business. His eyebrow twitched frrom one side, and she retreated for just a moment.

"Enna Karpenko?" He asked, leaning against a doorpost with an awkward charm.

"That's who's answering you, yes,"

"That's good," he muttered, fixing himself up before going back into the room to find something. Amongst the rustling, Enna perked her ears for any mispoken information, or objects which would play to her advantage. This deal must not fall through, lest they lose the necessary resources needed to fund their project.

Two minutes later, he rearrived, clinching something on his left hand. "Do you want to talk now?"

Enna nodded.

***

"How was your trip over here?" She asked, weaving her fingers together like threads through a quilt. She studied his face, warm and youthful; despite their age gap, however, he towered over her like one of her uncles.

"It was difficult, honestly. Arriving through Los Angeles was a hassle, though they like to say I could pass off for an aspiring actor," he laughed, checking his phone for a few seconds. "When did this country make immigration so hard?"

"It's been this way for a while, I believe," Enna muttered, though her gaze drooped to the ground like a flower. Standing in front of a customs agent with a few bags and the one book she managed to steal before leaving the continent. The United States, with all its flaws, stood out through her journeys there with its loud lights and friendly people trying to pry a moment of kindness from her. When the war started, however, the kindness faded and everyone gave her a new face.

"Why is that?"

"I'm surprised about that too," she replied, stretching out her hands. "The West Coast promised more immigration, and somehow I drifted up to the northwest and found peace there. And then there wasn't because of random attacks popping all over the place. Strange, isn't it?"

The man nodded; now it was his turn to go deep into thought. "It sounds eerily like where I come from. There was bombings, but now it's just petty fights over who would get the only piece of meat that they were selling It's quite funny.

"Our mother taught us to defend ourselves when we were younger, which is quite funny, if you think about it."

Enna began to laugh, brushing a sliver of her platinum blonde hair. People went to war to defend their lands, of course, but getting taught self-defense when one was young intrigued her as the man spoke on about the moves he made to stop his face from flustering, only to miss her by a hair. In response, she would playfully tease his fingers, before moving on with their walk. To jeopardize professionality with a looming friendship could involve strange questions.

"What would need the most from us, then?" She asked, pressing her lips to keep her true emotions from leaking out. earlier slips of information can be waved off thanks to an awkward slight of hand, later ones could lead to a bullet to the heart. She pondered the next question, knowing this truth well.

"Resources, naturally," he replied, pulling out his phone again to garner information. "We need to get several tons of medicine out to my homeland, and in exchange some students need to study here."

Enna paused, leaning in the middle of the stairway. The students which already came to the Bunker cleaned themselves up and and managed to find their way through the city. What more would these ones want? Why wouldn't they want to study in their home country?

[davidtennantpussytulpa]

i like replying to my mutuals posts in ways that would be so annoying as a random blog that id block myself but as a mutual they just have to take a long sigh and ignore it

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: You Said You Were Going Out

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A destination. History. A meeting. A careful parting.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: T, allusions to sexual acts, back on the yearn train. While this chapter is not explicit, future chapters will be so the entire work is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Cross-posted on AO3

Both Sides of the Door Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

“Nevarro.”

Mando, like most times he speaks, answers a slew of questions with a single word.

“Oh. I’m not familiar,” you say when he indicates this will be the next planet you land on. He chuckles a little underneath the helm.

“I would think not,” he replies. “It’s where the Guild is situated. My employer.” He chews this word as if the taste is not to his liking.

“Okay. Nevarro it is. What would you like me to do while we’re there? Is it safe to go out?” His mention of the Guild and the itch in the back of your brain that there will be bounty hunters makes you uneasy.

(only met one so far, but Mando is far from the norm)

That’s not completely true, you’re sure other bounty hunters have come through your places of employment without your knowledge. But if this was a hive of activity you were reasonably nervous about your normal security protocol.

(keep to the ship, protect the child, stay out of sight)

“I have friends here,” Mando says simply. Your mouth ticks up but you try to smooth out the smirk.

“I didn’t think you had friends Mando,” you say, a little mirth on the edge of your voice. If Peli had been any indication, “friends” might be a stretch to call Mando’s allies. He turns the helmet to you, a tilt in it that widens your smirk.

“Funny,” he huffs, and the way that word crackles through the vocoder makes your cheeks warm. “The head of the Guild is an ally, and there’s a former Shock Trooper I trust. I’ll take care of my business, and Cara will keep you and the kid safe.” 

(Cara?)

A former Shock Trooper who sounds like a woman. Jealousy takes a brief hold in your chest and you breathe through it. It’s a foreign emotion, dripping with confusion at your own reaction. It’s not like Mando’s history is pure. You were technically a conquest all those years ago.

(even if now you’re…something more?)

Well you haven’t fallen back into bed quite yet, even with the few quick touches and evening in the ‘fresher. The question hangs in the air (when will we finally admit what we’re feeling?) and its looming answer has kept you and Mando circling each other like cautious massifs the past week. Something is there, you’re sure of it. Eventually you’ll figure out what that something is.

“Does she know the kid?” you ask, and Mando hums. 

(Okay, confirmation that Cara is a woman)

“Anything I should know before we get there?”

Mando stays silent for a moment, his hands pressing buttons and flipping switches before he turns in his seat to face you. You pull your lip between your teeth then quickly release it, trying not to let nerves take over.

“Cara and I helped defend a town on Sorgan, and she saved my life the last time I was on Nevarro.” Mando’s hands rest on his knees, the visor trained on the question you’re trying to quash. “She is a warrior, an ally. I owe her my life, and a few debts.” His voice is calm and even, making you scold yourself.

(of course she’s an ally. Only brothels and cash exchanges in the past)

(...do you believe that? That there has never been another he’s cared for?)

You dash away the unkind thoughts and nod with a small smile. Mando stands and moves to walk past, but pauses to tilt your chin up to him with two fingers.

“She doesn't know me the way you do,” he says, and you feel a dizzying rush as he strokes across your chin with his gloved thumb, the tip just barely brushing the crest of your lower lip. 

(flirting, Mando? That’s a new one)

(don’t stop)

“Sorry,” you murmur, casting your eyes down. He gently taps you under your chin, directing your eyes back up.

“That was cute,” he teases, and you feel like you’re bouncing between Hoth and Tatooine with how cold and hot he’s making you. “The only one who should worry is me. You’re more her type.” Followed by a sputtering laugh Mando walks past you, but turns the helmet to watch you giggle as he descends the ladder.

The ramp flexes as you descend, Mando two steps ahead of you and the child tucked into the bag hanging by your hip. Nevarro’s sky is hazy, a light whiff of sulfur below the dry heat. You caught glimpses of lava fields during the descent, the surface wrinkled and blackened like badly healed blisters. There are buildings up ahead, and two tall pillars that open the city up to the spaceport. Eyes darting around, you scout for distrustful stances or unsavory silhouettes. All you find are a man and a woman walking towards you, and Mando making a direct path to them.

(must be his allies - ahem, “friends”)

The man is a swirling mix of charcoal and ruby cloth as he matches Mando’s saunter. His skin is dark, graying hair cropped short and sporting a large white smile. Throwing his arm out in something like fanfare, Mando comes to a stop a few steps away.

“Mando! The prodigal bounty hunter returns,” the man bellows, and you see Mando’s hip jut as he places a hand on his belt. He turns back to look at the ship, his gaze drifting over you briefly as you stand a few steps behind.

(don’t know don’t trust but Mando does)

You chalk up the unease to general anxiety about being in a new place with unfamiliar allies, needing to defer to Mando’s knowledge and social skills.

(this will at least be entertaining)

Mando claps arms with the woman, whose powerful biceps flex as they have their own tiny battle of wills. She smirks at Mando, all shades of cream and jet black with thick arms and legs that look strong enough to kick the head off a Trandoshan. Your heart thrums for a moment, feeling terribly out of place amongst these skilled businessmen, warriors, bounty hunters.

(you’re just a girl)

“And where is my favorite green baby?” the man says, searching Mando’s silhouette. Mando turns to you and gives the smallest toss of his head, urging you closer to the conversation. The man’s eyebrows raise, eyes darting between you with a cheeky smile.

“Finally got yourself a minder for the little womp rat?” he jests, and the creeping heat of discomfort keeps your tongue still. You pull the child out from the satchel, his ears perking up at the man and woman in front of you.

(just a girl, just a caretaker, might as well get back inside the Crest and…)

Mando steps over to take the child, and in the moment you’re obscured from the man and woman he strokes his hand over the back of yours. Not accidental, calming. It eases some of the nerves clenching in your belly.

“This is my companion,” Mando says simply, giving them your name. “We ran into some trouble on Tatooine and she’s been traveling with me since.”

(is that all we’re doing Mando?)

You step into the conversation, taking each hand in turn as Mando introduces you.

“Greef Karga, head of the Guild.” The charming man flashes that same bright smile at you, clapping both hands around yours.

“Please don’t take offense, I’m just surprised to see Mando with a crew,” he apologizes, the practiced tone indicative of the placating and negotiating needed in his line of work.

“Cara Dune, former Shock Trooper.” The woman smirks again, and the glint in her eyes tells you questions are dancing behind her teeth. Her grip is firm, the handshake powerful but not unkind. 

“Marshal,” she corrects Mando, making him tilt the helmet like he’s impressed. The sight makes you smile, Mando broadcasting his thoughts more broadly outside of the Crest.

(what does it mean that you know him this well?)

“And baby!” Karga coos, plucking the child out of Mando’s arms and cooing at him. The child pats at Karga’s salt-and-pepper beard and shrieks loud enough that it must hurt his ears. “You look like you got a bit more meat on your bones! Has Mando been feeding you better?” You chuckle at the scene.

“That’s my fault, I fatten up everyone who lets me cook for them.”

All eyes are on you, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t said anything.

(does Mando want you rubbing elbows with them?)

The silence is only for a moment, but it feels like eternity. You don’t dare look at Mando to see if there is tension in his frame. But Karga lets out a booming laugh, turning the child towards you. His eyes are big and smiley, enjoying all of the attention.

“Then you must speak to the cook in my cantina, because I swear everything I eat there takes another pound away. Not that I’m complaining,” Karga puts a hand on his paunch, “but I worry why no one’s coming back for seconds.”

You let out a surprised laugh, which also cracks a smile on Cara’s face. The weight lifts, good-natured interrogation pushed away for the moment.

“Shall we talk business Mando? Maybe your companion would prefer a more relaxing venue? I’m sure the Crest has been functional, but maybe not luxurious.” Karga shoots a look at Cara, who loops her thumb through her belt. Mando nods, taking the child back from his employer. 

“Maybe the Twi’lek healing baths?” Karga amends with a raised eyebrow. As if on cue both of your noses wrinkle. 

“Gross,” Cara spits out but with no malice. Karga holds up his hands in deference as Mando settles the child back inside the bag. One hand rests heavily on your hip, heat blooming from his fingers and burrowing into your flesh. It takes a decent amount of restraint to not suck in a breath.

(possessive was not a word you usually associated with Mando)

“Don’t worry Mando, we’ll keep ourselves entertained,” Cara sasses, tossing her head as she turns to walk away. Workers move into the carbonite hold, sending the slabs down to the receiving dock. 

(good thing you cleaned before landing)

“She’ll keep you safe,” Mando murmurs, and again he skates his hand over your elbow. It’s more than he’s touched you outside the ship and in view of others. You’re appreciative, but a little stunned at the subtle show of affection.

“See you soon,” you reply, skimming your knuckles along the inside of his wrist as he pulls away. It’s so fast you don’t think your hosts see it, but Mando’s sudden straightening to his full height lets you know he felt it. You’d like to speak more, ask him what’s off limits and what you can share, but you’re too exposed now. Following Cara, the visor lingers on your back for a few moments more.

NEXT

[onecanonlife]

Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

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

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed. Tommy is dead.

He can’t even get his body.

He can’t even get his body.

Sam stands on the edge of a curtain of lava, staring into the orange glow that hides a monster in a room that is now a child’s pre-made coffin, and he wonders if he is a monster himself.

***

“He’s fine.”

It’s the only thing to say. The only truth. The only possibility. Sure, the message is there, glaring up from his communicator in bright yellow letters, but it’s not real. It’s a joke of some kind, a trick. Something to fake everyone out. Maybe Sam’s in on it, too. Tommy must be going crazy in there, to think that this would actually be funny, but it sounds like something he would do.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo says, and then stops. Nothing else. His face is pale, though things like that are hard to tell, with him, considering that half his face is always pale. But he’s gone an ashy-grey sort of color, and it doesn’t look great.

“He’s not dead,” he says, and laughs a bit. “Tommy wouldn’t just die like that. That’d be ridiculous.”

Tommy’s death would never be so meek. Tommy’s death, when it happens, will be a spectacle, a dramatic showing with speeches and explosions and the sun rising at just the right time and haloing his hair, because TommyInnit deserves nothing less than the best death scene. Women wailing and the like. So Tommy is not dead, because if Tommy were dead, that would mean that he died alone, in the company of no one but his murderer, that he died scared, trapped in a small space with no way out, that he died without Tubbo by his side.

“Right,” Ranboo says, and his voice is doing a peculiar thing that Tubbo can’t quite work out. “Yeah, of course. Do you wanna—do you think we should go check it out? Go stop by the prison?”

“What for?” he asks. “Sam’s not going to let us in. He didn’t even when I built a dick on top of it.”

And here is another thing: Tommy can’t be dead because it was never supposed to be Tommy first. Tubbo has tried to live without him, and he found it very hard. So Tommy is not allowed to die before Tubbo does. That is the rule that he keeps locked up in his heart, because Tommy would be upset if he knew about it. But it’s a rule that Tubbo intends to follow, so Tommy can’t be dead.

That would be against the rules.

“Just to see?” Ranboo tries. Tubbo’s not sure why he’s being so insistent about this.

“Nah, we’ve got a hotel to build,” he says. “C’mon.”

Ranboo follows along behind him. His feet drag, like he’s reluctant. But Tubbo has long since given up on understanding why Ranboo does the things that he does.

***

He’s dead.

She should be glad about it. This is what she wanted. Tommy dead, punished for all the pain and suffering he’s caused everyone else. No longer able to start wars, to cause harm, to blaze his way through the server and leave a path of destruction in his wake.

Tommy is dead. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

There is a message from Jack. She doesn’t check it.

Tommy is dead, that blue-eyed, wide-grinned boy who followed along on his brother’s coattails. Tommy is dead, that fiery spirit crushed and his overbearing, fast-talking voice silent. Tommy is dead, that loyal friend, the protector and defender of all that he called his, the fighter, the scammer, the boy who loved with all of his heart and then some.

Tommy is dead. Dead, dead, dead. There is no coming back from dead. Dead is final. Dead is an ending. Dead means it’s all over. Tommy is over. Tommy is gone. Tommy will never grow old.

It’s what she wanted. She should be glad about it. She is glad about it. She’s even smiling.

Niki brings her hand to her mouth to check. It’s a smile. A smile, for sure.

Her fingers come away from her face wet.

***

It was an empty castle already, but it feels emptier now. The different between a possibility and its lack, they suppose.

Tommy was never supposed to die. They can’t fathom it, somehow. Can’t fathom that it’s real, that Tommy will never grace these halls again. They’d finally begun to fix things, begun to work toward redemption, well and truly. And now Tommy is gone.

Eret grips their communicator tightly in their hand.

“I’m sorry,” they murmur to no one at all.

It was never meant to be echoes in their head, over and over and over again, an apology that means nothing but so much scattered dust.

***

He closes his eyes. Breathes. In and out.

This happens. People die. They die, and they leave, and he’s left behind. That’s his life. That’s how it is.

It still hurts, when it happens. He’s still learning how to make it not hurt. Still learning how not to be angry, that people find it so easy to abandon him. That people find it so easy to go where he can’t follow. Wilbur first, now Tommy, and he doesn’t have anyone left, really.

But it’s fine. It’s alright. He can manage on his own. He always has.

Fundy decides to go to bed early.

***

He takes a moment to breathe. To process. To absorb.

To regret, for what might have been.

The voices in his head call for blood, as they always do, but he will not give them the satisfaction. Not this time. The blood he wants most is not readily accessible, and he will not put himself in the position of confronting the favor owed. Not now. Not like this. Not ever, if he can help it, though he knows that these sorts of things always take their due, always steal their pound of flesh.

“I know, chat,” he says. “You can all shut up, I know.”

It doesn’t appease them. He wasn’t expecting it to.

Tommy is dead. Tommy is dead, and their relationship with it. Any tentative attempts toward repairs have been left to rot, to burn on the funeral pyre. Theseus, fallen from the cliff at long last.

The story was always going to end this way. No one can stop the Fates from severing the string.

He stands with a groan. He is not built for this weather, for this cold, and it is a wonder that he keeps being drawn to it, time and time again. It is a balm, he thinks, but for what, he doesn’t know. For nothing, at the moment, as the voices threaten to crowd out all the rest. But he can’t deal with them right now.

Phil has his own house, now, and a bridge to connect the two. A bridge over still water, such that Tommy will never cross. He should not feel the way he does. Tommy betrayed him. Tommy used him. Tommy discarded him, so he tossed him aside in turn.

But once they were called brothers. Does it mean anything, in the end?

Phil is standing in the middle of the floor, ruined wings on full display. His face is blank, his communicator held loosely in one hand.

“Phil,” he says.

“I failed him,” Phil says. “I should’ve been there for him, and I wasn’t.”

Technoblade has no comfort for the truth.

But he has comfort for his friend, for his friend who is perhaps his father but is definitely family, so he stretches out his arms and catches Phil as he falls, falls and falls and screams, and it is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, because Daedalus tried to catch his son and failed. It is good, he thinks, that the wings are already ruined, so he cannot try again and ruin the rest of himself, too.

***

He nudges the body with his foot.

“You shouldn’t have killed that cat,” he murmurs. The body does not reply, and he sighs.

Tommy’s face is beyond recognition. The blood coats his knuckles. He hopes that there’s enough water in the sink to wash it out before it sets. He hates it when the blood sets.

He didn’t mean to go as far as he did. That doesn’t mean much, in the end. This will work just as well.

He is a god, after all. He is a god, and he will have what he deserves, and more besides.

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” he says. “I’ll make a believer out of you yet.”

[roll-da-credits]

HC: Haikyuu Captains doing the ring light TikTok trend Characters: Daichi, Ushijima, Bokuto, Terushima, Kuroo, Oikawa

Brought to you by ME ACTING UP WITH ALL THOSE SHITS ON MY FYP. Idk if its trending in other countries cause all the video that goes on my fyp abt this trend is Indonesian so, uh idk. But for those who don't know, its this trend <3 (check the sound)

No one and I mean NO ONE expected him to actually do it literally NO ONE

His tiktok acc probably got famous because he shared gym tips and just replied to a bunch of funny comments loving his body or something

Then this trend pops up in a similar time he posted a vid of him just training and someone (you) commented about him doing the trend

"With those muscles you'd probably look good in that trend 👀"

You obviously didn't expect him to do it AT ALL so you just continued teasing it

Until he asked you to record it for him and you're like ARE YOU SERIOUS?

Obviously he's serious and when you helped him with the transition needless to say you felt quite light headed at seeing his shoulder muscles so prominent with the ring light

His video transition and caption is him replying to your comment

"Let's find out" <- That's what I think of him doing

Question translation: "Does eating a lot of meat make you fat?" Caption translation: "Hope this answers"

Everyone knew he was going to do it one way or another

His tiktok is probably just filled with thirst traps and replying to thirsty comments asking him to say baby or something

Or just him pretending to be innocent with his tongue piercing when HE KNOWS what it does to people

His video probably starts with him pretending to do it and then not doing it and scolding his viewers for thinking he'd do it

Then it'll come to a transition and boom he's flexing his muscles

Probably the type to do it with a bunch of ring light colors too, since all of his followers want to see him in a red light or a purple one

He'd send every single one of it to you and just boast about how hot he probably looks

You'd agree obviously

How I imagine him doing it

Translation: Huh? Huhhh? What are you guys waiting for huh? Y'all are naughty. ~transition~

This man

Now this man

He's special

His tiktoks are ones that are the most random shit he decides to post

Whether that's like planned videos with Kenma (who begrudgingly accepts) and his teammates or just random storytimes about random shit with a video of him training or stretching

Everyone's always and I mean always thirsting after him

And sometimes when he's feeling mischievous he'd reply to a comment with a video and say something like

"Thank you, but I have a partner."

Before bursting into laughter at the comments always thinking he's lying cause HE SAYS THAT BUT HE NEVER SHOWS HIS PARTNER

Then obviously there are those people who are attacking those who want to see his partner saying shit like they're probably very private, you shouldn't force him too

etc etc

well one day he got tired of all the assumptions everyone was making, whether that was about his relationship or you in general

So he decided to introduce you in the hottest and egotistical way possible.

Flexing his muscle + flexing how cool you are = a perfect post in his eyes

This man is a bastard and a tease

His tiktoks are wildcard where it's filled with him either just showing off his skills

Or making thirst traps to make fangirls scream

Or just randomly doing nothing but still GETTING THE VIEWS

Like he pops up in EVERYONE'S fyp and NO ONE IS MAD, whether that's straightok, alt tok, dark tok, witch tok, booktok, animetok, republican tok, TRUMPTOK, he shows up in everyone's fyp

No one

NO one is mad

And if there are some random ugly dudes in the comments who are mad, he just replies with random words to confuse them

Then one day you go up to him with a new thirst trap idea

He immediately agrees

He's the type to laugh or pose with a cheeky grin at the end after flexing his muscles as if he didn't just make a group of schoolgirls faint

His caption would be deadly (to you) though, he'd say something like, girlfriend in the comments

And then everyone would run to see the pinned comments, only to see him saying Jk

like

a fucking menace

NOW THIS MAN

You're the one who suggested it to him, since like... his muscles are... well... do I even need to say it?

He's incredible that's all you need to know

But you just wanted to see his fangirls scream

Since his tiktoks are filled with him randomly either pranking people accidentally

Or being his goofy self just recording random things in his life making the most mundane things so interesting to people becaue of his personality

He's tiktok's sweetheart

Then one day he drops the thirst trap

Captioned: "Don't know if I did it right."

HE WILL PLAY IT DUMB

HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING

But if someone comments thirsting him or complimenting his muscles he'd play stupid when he responds.

The only reason he has a tiktok is because Tendou somehow convinced him to download it

Tendou and you specifically

But Tendou was extremely adamant that Ushijima had the app

He didn't see the joy in it at first until his fyp started to know his likings and then he's opening random food and cooking tiktoks with a lot of professional volleyball players videos or edits before he goes to bed

He doesn't post anything, doesn't see the appeal in it and his account's private so it doesn't matter if he posts anything either

But you and Tendou post about him A LOT

You and Tendou both know the muscular volleyball player would gain you two a lot of views

So when it was a known thing that you and Tendou were very close friends with him, you made tiktoks almost constantly with the other two

Your viewers and followers were elated every time you three were together

Tendou being extremely energetic in every one of your videos, you just behind the camera laughing your ass off and Ushijima just there

It was a hilarious and perfect dynamic that your viewers loved

But something your viewers also lived and loved for was your boyfriend's physique

You weren't shy about showing him off so when the trend came

Somehow, you were able to convince him to do it, but he only agreed to do it from a different angle since he felt rather weird about having the camera in front of him for a short period of time before the transition

Hence the abs shot instead of the shoulder muscle shot

Ignore the first part

[astromaki]

part 3 of second choice ; ceo!shoto todoroki x gn!reader (x ceo!katsuki bakugo) (1617 words)

part 1. part 2. (previous) part 4.

tw ; angst, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, degradation, divorce, mention of alcohol, bad language, slightly suggestive ?

EXTRA INFOS ;; all the characters are aged up obviously (they are 30 here), the point of view of this third part is from shoto todoroki !

confrontation. [7 : 16 pm]

a week has passed since he came home that night drunk. that he had begged momo to stay with him. that he had accidentally seen those divorce papers crumpled by your hands.

momo had seen them too that night, and yet she and shoto had not commented on them. good, he wasn't in the mood anyway.

it had become almost official, even the media had it on their front pages. "one of japan's richest couples on the verge of divorce?", "billionaire todoroki single again?" "y/n, will the heir.ess of their father's company return to being a lawyer?"

he would have liked to say that he cared what you thought about it. if you cried, screamed, were you hurt ? but that would be lying, you were the least of his worries.

and then, wasn't it what he wanted from the beginning ?

that you would end up hating him so much that you would leave him. that he could finally be free of the weight that you represented every day.

and yet his signature was still missing.

"you can't even love your partner properly, and now i hear through the media that a divorce is on the way ? you're pathetic son. i knew i should have married them to touya. " enji's heart-attack voice echoed terribly through the phone, which made shoto sigh. he was even pretty sure he could hear it from across town.

"calm down." shoto said in an annoyed tone. "your marriage isn't a success either, so keep your remarks to yourself. bye. "

"you idiot, don't you dare hanging up on me. i don't care if you can't satisfy your s/o, i don't care if they feel bad about this arranged marriage either. but y/n y/l/n comes from a very famous lawyer's family, so get a divorce and the amount of money you have to give will be huge. "

"i manage them, it will not be a problem. i have to go now. "

the young man finally returned to your room, looking exhausted, his tie loosened and ready to down a few glasses of whiskey.

however, he was surprised to see you. dressed in a beautiful versace dress/suit, you were glowing. well no, he meant that you looked... good.

though, it was the first time he took the time to look at you. to admire you.

the young man finally met your indifferent gaze through the mirror you were standing in front of. that gaze that was so joyful and sparkling at the beginning of your marriage, full of hope to transform this purely financial union into a love marriage.

but that look, devoid of emotion, almost made shoto, Japan's most ambitious ceo, doubt himself. almost.

"i'm surprised you're still using my card to splurge. how much is this one? $1000 ? $2000 ?"

he was tired, exhausted. nut the truth is he was in the mood to be a pain in the ass tonight.

"$ 8,330. plus the $800 pair. " you replied coldly.

your answer was like a slap in the face to your husband. not because of the price, he didn't give a fuck about this.

but this tone right there. it wasn't like you. you were normally so gentle, patient even with the worst of the crap he put you through. that naive kindness that made him want to vomit was completely gone. he didn't expect such a turn of events.

"so you decide to divorce me, but first you want to empty my bank account? you're exactly as I imagined." his look that used to reflect nothing but fatigue was now full of contempt for you.

you finally faced him. shit, he couldn't help but find you beautiful.

"here todoroki, let's talk about the divorce. " you began, quietly walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a stack of documents. "i've signed it, sign it, and i'll take it to my lawyers first thing in the morning.

he snatched them out of your hand and threw them across the room. you didn't even flinch, you even held his gaze. poker face.

a loud silence fell between you. a long silence, uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. heavy and light. sensible and meaningless.

"what's all this about ? who put you up to this ?"

a wry laugh escaped your lips. your new behavior puzzled shoto. he loved and hated what he had in front of him. a challenge.

"you think i need someone to make me realize that i deserve better than an asshole like you ? fuck, let me laugh. "

your hand went to retrieve a piece of paper from your purse. and it was slammed hard against his chest. bakugou’s business card.

he found your face inches from his, your warm breath gently caressing his cheeks. a scent of whiskey filled his nostrils. you were not sober.

"how many drinks are you on? " he asked quietly.

"so now do you care if i downed a whole bottle or not ? oh please shut up. because now that you mention it, your friend bakugou katsuki may have hired me. to be his company's business lawyer. isn't that funny? "

you turned your back on him, unaware of the state you'd put him in. but damn, it was like he'd just been slapped in the face. nausea took over his whole body, his legs became heavy and weak in few seconds only. and he knew damn well it wasn't fatigue.

so you were leaving him, but on top of that you were going to work for his number one competitor ?

he didn't know what hurt more, the knowledge that bakugo had won one of the most competent lawyers in the field or that you were leaving him for him ? was he jealous ? surely not, it was another feeling that repulsed him. he didn't even know.

"have you lost your tongue todoroki ?"

todoroki ? since when did you call him by his last name ? where are the darlings or my heart that used to annoy him so much ?

you finish getting ready, now wearing your long jacket. he had lost his tongue indeed, he didn't know what to say to you. what to do.

y/n y/l/n, you had succeeded in putting your husband to the wall.

but it was only for a moment. he quickly, too quickly, pulled himself together. his usual irritated expression returned.

"you don't see that he's using you to get ahead of me ? i thought you were smarter than that. "

he took a step forward, slowly but surely. like a predator approaching its prey.

"he doesn't care about you. just like no one has ever cared about you, not me, not him and not your bourgeois family. that's why they put you in a loveless marriage so easily. "

a mirthless laugh escaped from his lips.

"y/n, this bastard doesn't give a damn about you. "

you tried to move towards him, ready to slap him, but the alcohol made you capsize and stumble on your carpet. he arrived just in time to support you with his muscular arms. an annoyed sigh resounded in the large room when your sob reached his ears.

nevertheless, a petty smile stretched his lips. there you were again, the fragile and unassertive y/n finally in his arms.

that bakugo had managed to turn your brain inside out. yet shoto knew you better than anyone else. he knew you. better than you knew yourself. you were that puzzle he had managed to decipher long ago.

"that's not true. kacchan wouldn't do that...", you whisper.

"you know i'm right, sweetheart. you know i'm the only one who's honest with you. my love for you is all you need. "

his muscular hand gradually, peacefully, came to caress your back to take off the buttons of your dress. his lips came to meet yours, to draw you into a long, languid, unsentimental kiss. your lips asked for more, your whole soul asked for more of shoto. more of this man for whom your heart never stopped beating. even if his was vibrating for another woman.

you wanted to feel his lips making love to you sensually, sincerely.

you just wanted him to love you for one night. one fucking night.

shoto was ecstatic. he could already see himself opening a bottle of champagne with his father, to celebrate the divorce that would never happen. tonight, shoto had brought out his best acting skills. millions were at stake. he had brought out his best kiss. he had never touched you like that. so gently, so carefully.

he had never called you by any affectionate nickname.

he has done too much to keep you around.

and you were drunk, not stupid.

you finally stood up, moving away from him, reluctantly. nothing he said was true. from his love for you, to his accusations against katsuki.

awkwardly, you put your dress/suit back on properly.

"i have a meeting with my future employer mr. bakugou tonight. i'll be late. don't wait for me, i'll sleep at the hotel tonight, with your card. "

a red color came to his cheeks. anger ? sadness ? jealousy ?

he had never seen you so determined, so proud. and that attracted him. he was going to lose millions, no matter what. but it was you who was going to escape him. for that bastard bakugou katsuki.

the nice little y/n was no longer shoto todoroki's.

AHHH omg sorry sorry i told you i can't do a fluffy end!! >< (comments and reblogs are appreciated <3)

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