#if you read the whole thing I salute you <3

[mister-brightside]

I finally, FINALLY finished season one of the sandman tv series and speaking as a fan of the comics I loved it so much. my long and winding thoughts (with minor spoilers) under the cut.

it was really refreshing to have so much trust in the creators. by the last few episodes I’d be like, I can’t wait for them to get to this scene, and then the scene happened, and it would be so good and so spicy.

for ages literally every comics fan (myself included) was saying that a good and faithful adaptation would be impossible. I was actually fully prepared to pass over the tv series cause there was no way they could pull it off, right? thank god some reviewer on reddit changed my mind, because I’m so delighted to be proven wrong for once. it’s honestly crazy impressive how well they took all these disjointed narratives and somehow made them tonally consistent but still kept the edges. I thought maybe they’d skip the more out of line stories, like the one with the cats or the massacre in the diner, but they really went there. in fact I reread some of the comics after the episodes and I was really surprised to find that they lifted quite a bit of dialogue word for word.

(I love how hob gadling’s story was basically retold verbatim EXCEPT they went out of their way to make the breakup a million times more angsty)

there were so many throwbacks and visual references to the comics which were really lovely and never felt forced. and speaking of visuals, the show is as good as you’re gonna get for a production this size. I was worried it was gonna be a CGI mess and, well, it does veer on that edge at times, but most of the cinematography and effects are truly gorgeous and in the end it’s the actors who keep me connected to the heart of the story.

when I first saw photos of morpheus I was like what the hell? they’re just making him look like Some Guy? but my god tom sturridge knocks it out of the park. he’s absolutely perfect. he sold me immediately. someone else said that when he’s imprisoned in the glass cage he moves almost like a creature and they’re dead on. he does a spectacular job of convincing me he’s not human.

so in the end I think the decision to humanise morpheus’s appearance was absolutely the right one. I always found his character in the comics to be a bit distant because yeah, at times he can be arrogant and self-righteous and somewhat terrifying since he’s so unreadable. and that doesn’t change in the transition to the screen but having tom as he is (with those sad, sad, pathetic, emo eyes) softens his edges a little, you know? he makes you feel for him a bit more.

and I’ve said this before but it’s like. I never really pictured a specific voice when reading the comics, but all of morpheus’s dialogue comes in these special black speech bubbles so you know he’s Different. and as soon as tom’s voiceover began in episode one it felt Right. almost like it had been buried in my subconscious for all these years. insane.

(I kind of want to watch more of tom’s roles but I literally can’t imagine him as anyone other than dream of the endless, like I’m afraid to even google him because it would probably break my brain to see him behaving like a normal human person)

the rest of the cast is fantastic as well. the highlights for me: gwendoline christie as lucifer – chef’s kiss. kirby baptiste-howell as death – for real though, if I met her when I died, I wouldn’t feel too bad about it. david thewlis adds a layer of nuance to john dee that somehow makes him quite sympathetic despite the complete lunacy. vanesu samunyai is very cute and likeable as rose and I hope the show sticks around long enough for her to make her return. likewise, lily travers is really sweet as barbie and I think she’d be a really good lead if her storyline ever comes around.

okay, time for the nitpicking. I do wish they’d cast someone older as lucien, he always had this exhausted ‘no one helps me in this house’ vibe that I just don’t get from vivienne acheampong. and I think boyd holbrook needed to be a little more maniacal as the corinthian. oh well, it’s not like we can have everything. and both actors do a great job as they are so I’m not gonna whine too much.

(if this was 2014 tumblr I probably would be seeing extremely, uh, controversial takes on the corinthian but I haven’t come across any yet thank god)

I’m really hoping the show gets more seasons because it’s doing a wonderful job of bringing all the stories to life. I hope enough casual viewers stick around because I know the lack of narrative structure will throw a lot of people off. in the comics, some characters turn up once and never again, some wander in and out, others leave the story only to show up again several volumes later. some stories last for only a chapter and others go on for ages. and the genre swings from urban fantasy to historical fiction to horror to straight up batshit insanity and everything in between.

but in the end that’s what makes the sandman one of my favourite comics ever. every time I read it I feel like I’ve experienced a big fever dream. and like a dream it promptly fades until I literally forget why I love it so much. then I reread it again and I’m like, oh yeah, that’s why.

so I don’t know how to say it better than this: the show FEELS like the sandman. and that’s all I can ask for.

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x06 thoughts (and many feelings)

Well, as expected, this ep basically broke my heart into a million tiny pieces- but still, they really did give Arman the best send-off that they could given the circumstances, and I’m so, so grateful for it.

Breaking the recap up a bit differently this week because I have a lot to say about everyone lol

But of course, I have to start with my beloved boy Arman, and Armony. I always knew that this ep was going to break me, and man, they didn’t waste any time doing it… less than 4 mins in and the tears were already flowing from hearing him saying the Reloj line, because seriously, knowing that this was his one chance to pass on a message to the people in his life, and that he chose that??? God it was powerful seeing Nadia and the others incorrectly assuming the message simply meant that he was running out of time, vs seeing Thony's jaw clench on hearing it because she knew the truth, knew that it was meant for her alone. In some ways, it was a “I think my time is up and I'm the one leaving forever in the morning, and that's okay” kind of message, but it was also a “this is me telling you I love you, because I never got the chance before”, and a “no matter what they do to me, in my mind I'm there, dancing with you by the fire.” No wonder she reaches for a beer the moment she gets home, knowing that there’s the chance she will be able to hold him in her arms again in only a matter of hours, but not being able to do anything to make it happen except just sit and wait for news. Well, at least until the moment she sees the report and understands Dante’s involvement, and then there’s no holding back anymore, no more trusting others to save him. Her blind determination to go find him and bring him home is exactly like how she acted when Luca was dying or when Fi was deported; it’s the way she always responds when someone she loves desperately needs her, and I love that Arman is so clearly in that category. (Okay gotta break this up bc of Tumblr's character limit lol)

Anyway ugh the entire time she was at the apartments I could feel my heart in my throat, because god, she got so close. (Oh and the way she instantly recognised the jacket and then knew with a single sniff that it was his?? Help???). But anyway ugh when the kid pointed them to the apartment, and she saw him right there through the window, only for him to be stolen away again in the mere couple of minutes it took her to get back around to the apartment’s front door.... Ughhh these two have been star-crossed from the start, but it was so hard to watch the final acts of their tragedy unfolding. I'll never be over the fact that for days, he was kept in a haze of drugs and pain, and yet we (and Thony!) know from his message that he spent that time thinking of her, escaping his reality by living in the moments they’d shared. And her own drug-induced hallucination of him was equally heartbreaking… god, to see her be so honest and unreserved in the way she looked at him and held him and spoke to him ("I’m gonna take you home, I'm never gonna let you go again”)... like damn, in that moment we really got to see the unfiltered, uninhibited truth of her feelings for him, the truth she never got to tell him and that he never got to hear.

But still, I’d like to think that he knew it anyway, especially when he saw her there in that car– saw that she had come for him, that she was trying so hard to save him, even at risk to herself. (Naturally I wish that we could have had his real face for that heart-wrenching moment of goodbye, but it was close enough, and when it comes down to it, that moment was still truly Arman and Thony no matter what). And while I’m sure Arman would have wished that he could live, that he could have stayed and built a life with her, we also saw multiple indications in the past 2 seasons that Arman knew and accepted that an early death was likely for him, if not practically inevitable, just like it had been for Mateo and Carlos and Bosco. And so for him to get to go out on his own terms, and in the act of saving Thony? It was exactly the death that he would have wanted. (On first watch I was sobbing too hard to notice that he didn't just knock the gun away and cause chaos in the car, he actually also grabbed the wheel and deliberately drove them off the cliff, meaning he truly chose for himself how he met his death). Honestly, it was literally the exact kind of ending I'd been predicting for him ever since s1– both the culmination of his hero arc, and also the ultimate fulfillment of his vow to protect her.  I'm so, so thankful that he got to have that, got to go out fast and painlessly and like the hero he was, rather than dying in the hangar or alone in that grungy apartment, and I’m even more thankful that he got to see her one last time, got to have that final goodbye with her. He died knowing she loved him and never gave up on him, and knowing that his death would ensure she got to live on; and for him, that would have been everything. And as devastating as it was to see Thony on her knees on the cliff, staring up into the sky as everything faded into white and El Reloj began to play... it was also heartbreakingly beautiful- seeing them dancing together again truly felt like getting a glimpse into his heaven, like it was telling us 'This is where he is now. This is where he'll always be"- and though it'll still always hurt to have lost him, I can be at peace with that.

(Though ngl, this ep was full of 'if onlys' that are going to haunt both us and Thony forever... If only Chris hadn't blocked the toilet today of all days. If only Thony had called a different plumber. If only JD's friend hadn't gotten him the arrest report. If only Ramona hadn't put a tail on Thony that caused her and Fi to have to rely on Jeremy for a ride rather than going on their own. If only Thony had been able to trust that Jorge wasn't involved and had called him instead. If only Nadia hadn't sent her the address for the meet location. If only if only if only. The show has always centred around this theme (all the way back to 1x01 and ‘if only Thony hadn’t encouraged the underground fighter to make her own choices, then the fighter may have done what Theo ordered her to and deliberately lost the fight, and then Tarik wouldn’t have killed Theo and Thony wouldn't have witnessed it, and none of this would have happened’), and it's a vital aspect of both the storytelling (because if none of that had happened, then there's no story at all) and also of Thony's character development. But obviously in this instance we all know that the writers had no other choice, and that there was no way this ep could have gone differently anyway, not after the loss of Adan. We know that, but Thony doesn't, and so it's going to be devastating to see Thony blame herself for yet another death, especially the death of someone she loved so deeply.)

But alright let’s talk about who is actually responsible for Arman’s death, because while Thony inadvertently contributed to it, she absolutely wasn’t the one who directly led to them being in that situation! Let’s start with Dante: firstly, I knew it was very suss that he ‘accidentally’ killed that guy in the last ep! And then when I saw the BTS pics for 3x06 last week and saw that Thony and Fi were going to go to the same apartment buildings that Dante got arrested at, it was clear that he was definitely involved in Arman’s abduction somehow. So either it’s option 1, and that giant bastard knew just how deeply Ramona wanted Arman back in their lives and figured he could not only give her what she wanted, but could also use the opportunity to score a fuck-ton of money without Ramona ever knowing of his involvement; or it’s option 2, and he abducted Arman on Ramona’s orders so that she could a) get her hands on a bunch of Nadia's money, and b) receive Arman's gratitude for saving him, which would then lead to his return into the family. Personally I think that option 1/Dante working alone is much more likely, and I'd also prefer it to option 2, because if Ramona was involved it would completely ruin the enjoyment I’ve been getting out of her character and her sibling relationship with Jorge. So I'm really hoping that it was all just Dante’s plan, and that Ramona and Jorge believe Thony when she tells them about Dante’s role in Arman's kidnapping (and therefore his death) and then they fucking murder him for it. 

Speaking of murdering, that brings me to Jeremy Fucking Dolan. (Yes, I literally looked up his last name on IMDB purely bc I felt the need to put a curse word in it). It’s funny, but from the very first moment his character was announced and it was mentioned in his bio that he would befriend Thony while hiding a dark secret, I had an almost irrational level of hatred for him, even more than I had for Jorge’s character, which was definitely odd and inexplicable given that Jorge’s bio made him sound like he was purely meant to be an unwanted ‘Arman 2.0’/potential love interest, which I obviously did not want in the slightest. But if I’d been given the option to get rid of one of them before S3 even started, it would have been Jeremy with no hesitation. The moment he made his appearance, I called it that he was actually an undercover FBI agent who was using Thony to get to Arman, which was maddening enough because she just didn’t deserve to be manipulated in that way, or to be betrayed by someone whom she had been isolated and vulnerable enough to risk trusting. And then that undercover bastard not only uses her, but ends up being the very reason that the FBI shows up right at the worst moment– not only preventing the exchange, but also causing the chase that kills Arman??? I don't care if he was only doing his job and trying to catch criminals, goddammit, I still hate him so much, and it's going to destroy Thony (even more than she already has been destroyed after losing Arman) when she eventually puts it together and realises that her trusting Jeremy directly contributed to Arman’s death. Which is why I’m over here violently daydreaming of a moment sometime late in the season where Jorge and Ramona finally manage to capture Jeremy, and then they bring Thony in and let her pull the fucking trigger and end him. (I mean, is it at all likely that she would go that dark, even to avenge Arman? Well, no. But thinking about it certainly gives me great satisfaction so I’m sticking with it lol)

Anyway, moving onto something more positive– if you wanna find the MVP of this ep, you only have to look at Fi!!! I loved her for the kind and understanding way she addressed Thony's connection to Arman, and the way she almost got Thony to acknowledge her feelings for him. Though I guess in that moment she could see that Thony still wasn’t ready to talk about it, and so she tried to ease Thony's mental discomfort by shifting focus to jokes about Jeremy (gross). Still, throughout the ep she was just so completely ride or die for Thony, like she has always been, and honestly Thony needs that, needs her. And not just for her badass lock-picking skills haha (taught to her by Paolo maybe??). Basically, Thony is like the Frodo of this series, carrying a huge burden and going through unimaginable things, but Fi is like her Sam, and it’s only with Fi’s support that Thony is able to keep pushing forward through everything. Obviously the loss of Arman, the other vital person in her life (does that make him Gandalf??) is going to be absolutely crushing for her, and I think Fi is going to be even more incredible in the coming episodes as she supports Thony through her grief and devastation. Ngl, I already had a fic idea about Fi going and getting Arman's jacket back for Thony, and it makes me cry just thinking about it ugh

In addition to Fi and Thony, I did love the whole De La Rosa fam vibe early in the episode, with Chris and Jaz bickering, and Thony and Fi making a fuss of Luca, and then Chris gently telling them to ease off when Luca got overwhelmed– it felt so nice to have them all reunited again and just getting to be a ‘normal’ family getting ready for school in the morning, and for Fi and Thony to be dealing with problems like blocked toilets and wet clothes rather than threats of deportation or dangerous cartels or the FBI. Chris worrying over missing Camila’s call was super cute too; I’m glad we got to have another mention of her and I hope we get to see her again soon. As for Luca, I’m really happy he’s started school, mostly bc it frees up Thony’s schedule haha, but also because it’s an important step for both him and Thony in moving forward with their lives. Thony has lived in an endless loop of ~My Child Is Dying~ for 6 years, and finally (thanks to her and Fi and Arman, like she said in the ep) that cycle has finally been broken. Luca will always need careful monitoring of his health, of course, but Thony isn’t trapped by his illness anymore, and I’m excited to see what potential  paths that will open up for her. I will always wish that one of those paths could have been a relationship with Arman, and I'm sure she does too, but as long as she finds happiness and purpose, I'll be satisfied.

Okay, so Jorge showing up at the school was pretty great honestly; like he says, it kind of is their thing to just show up uninvited into each other's spaces, and plus I think he actually truly did want to help make the moment a little easier on her by being there and distracting her/reassuring her as a fellow parent. I also loved the sweatshirt mention lol, it was a good throwback and I enjoy that he’s comfortable enough with her to tease her. Just shows how much their relationship has changed in the week or so since he first tossed that sweatshirt at her in a different school parking lot!! And he definitely won points with me here by going out of his way to get the info for her about the legal/CPS stuff without being asked, and though he explained it away as basically just him buying her influence over Arman in regards to the Sin Cara business, again I think he just genuinely wanted to help. Like Arman, he doesn’t get the opportunity to do many things that are purely good and noble, and so the feeling of getting to help her and Luca clearly has somewhat of an intoxicating effect on both men haha. Even with the loss of Arman (and so the loss of his supposed reason for helping Thony with the CPS stuff) I don’t doubt that Jorge will still help her with it once he’s satisfied that she had nothing to do with Arman’s death. But ugh speaking of Arman, the way Jorge questioned her about her connection to Arman… he already knows that Thony’s husband only died a few months ago, and as far as he knows from Nadia's behaviour, her and Arman’s marriage was solid, so it’s understandable that the intensity of Thony’s loyalty to/concern about Arman is a bit confusing to him. And because he doesn’t understand it, he’s always going to view her with at least a trace of suspicion until he learns the truth. Which may even be as soon as next ep– it looks like Jorge and Ramona are going to be demanding answers from Thony about how Arman died/ whether she betrayed him to the Feds/ how she was even there in the first place etc etc, and honestly I'm desperately hoping we'll get some kind of "I would never betray Arman! I LOVED him!" outburst from her that makes both Jorge and Ramona stop in their tracks because of how clearly heartfelt and honest it is. And ngl, while we’ve seen Thony indirectly state or demonstrate her love for Arman multiple times now, it would really mean a lot to me to hear her just say it openly without holding back. Not to mention that I think it would also really help pave the way for her to be accepted into the Sin Cara/Sanchez family, which would make for interesting viewing for the rest of the season.  

Speaking of the Sanchez family, I enjoyed the flashback and getting the backstory about the caddy, and seeing more of the Eduardo/Ramona/Jorge dynamic. (I’m trying so hard not to be nitpicky about the fact that young Arman's hair was straight and young Jorge's was curly, when it should have been the opposite, lol). But I’ve been thinking a lot about what Eduardo says to young Arman in that moment about how the only way to be a good man is to work hard and make an honest living, and I think that before we meet him in S1 Arman had really internalised that, and didn’t see himself as being a good man even though he wanted to be, which is why it hurt him so much to have Thony reinforce that belief during their argument at the wedding in 1x03. But then through helping her and forming a connection with her, he sees that even though she’s witnessed him at his worst, she genuinely does believe he is a good man, and it allows him to start believing it of himself for the first time. The flashback also definitely gave us more of a sense of Arman’s relationship with Ramona and Jorge, and really added another layer to him not selling off his caddy despite the direness of his debt to RK. What Nadia said to Ramona about the caddy being Arman’s dream car seemed to prove to Ramona that Arman still loved her and Jorge, and never truly turned his back on them… and so hopefully her sense of family and honour will mean that she will now consider Nadia and Thony– Arman’s family– to be her family as well. I also really enjoyed the scene of Jorge and Ramona sitting together in the caddy, discussing their business choices/differences in their life plans, and also talking about Arman and his good heart… they’ve definitely both grown on me, partly because they’re well written, but mostly because they've helped Thony and they genuinely care about my boy Arman. I’m sad we'll never get to see an Arman and Jorge brotherly reunion, because that could have been truly great. But tbh what I’m really wondering is what will happen to my beloved caddy now that Arman's gone... will Nadia want to get rid of it because seeing it is too painful?? Will Jorge offer to take it? Will I get my dream of Thony being the one to keep it lol? Doubtful, but one can always hope.... (and I guess there’s always that fic I’ve been planning to write about it for like 3 weeks lol)

Sigh, poor Nadia gave me a lot of feels in this ep. She is working so hard to get Arman back, and handling herself amazingly well under incredibly stressful circumstances. She dealt calmly with the kidnappers (which Ramona was clearly very impressed by... a potential protege there, perhaps?). Nadia also politely yet firmly declined Ramona’s plan for Arman to be basically kept in their home, despite knowing how powerful Ramona is and how risky it would be to piss her off.  She also insisted on being at the exchange to get him back despite the risk to herself (and possibly partly because she still doesn’t trust Ramona’s intentions). She trusted Thony with the meet location, despite their complex history, despite knowing that it meant that she would have to share her reunion with her husband with the other woman he loves. Even if she only gave Thony the address because it meant getting to have a highly-trained doctor there who could be trusted completely with Arman’s life, it still means she put Arman’s wellbeing above her own wants. Honestly I respect the hell out of Nadia, and literally the only consolation I have about losing Arman is that at least I'll never have to watch her go through the heartbreak of Arman still choosing Thony over her despite all their history and everything she’d done for him. Of course, we still have to watch her going through an absolutely horrific heartbreak of a different kind, but at least instead of being alone in it, she has Thony to share that pain with. (Or at least, she will, when she gets past her initial anger and blame towards Thony). It's almost a certainty that Thony and Nadia's connection will continue and even strengthen throughout the rest of the season, and I strongly believe that Thony is going to do everything she can to support and protect Nadia now, not only because she genuinely does care about her, but also because it’s the only thing she can do now to honour Arman and give thanks for all he did for her.

Okay, last couple of things: I loved that even despite her desperate search for Arman and the ticking clock that was hanging over their heads, Thony still stopped and helped the kid’s grandfather. It was very true to who she is, and how she can’t not help the people in front of her that need her. And tbh in terms of TV medicine, this instance actually wasn’t too bad haha, even if her Epley manoeuvre was a bit off. The fact that the man turning to look at the clock helped her diagnose the vertigo was also a cool reference to the ep’s title/theme as well. But anyway the reference that I can’t quite figure out yet is the word Thony saw written in the dust on that mirrored platter thing; I’m assuming Arman wrote it as a clue in case someone found the apartment? It seems to say something like ‘Marin’ which means nothing to me rn, but they very intentionally included a shot of Thony seeing it, so I guess its meaning will become clear in the next ep or two? 

Anyway, this has been many many words and feelings, so I’m just gonna end it with this, the prayer that Thony spoke as Arman walked out of prison in 2x02, because it feels even more tragically fitting now:

Now he is freed Through your blood on the cross Through the blows to your face And through the crown of your thorns that pierced your head Deliver him from all evil From the rigor of injustice From the torment of conscience And from all darkness Welcome him into Paradise Where there will be no more sorrow No more weeping or pain Give him the blessings of the life to come As he enters into the kingdom of peace and light.

[barbieaemond]

And I dream of a grave

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.  

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.  

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.  

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[sparrow-ceiling]

LUCIFER IN EPISODE 8 POST

because i want to squeeze him like a rubber duck (I WROTE DICK HELP)

OK FIRST CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE PARALLEL TO THE TRUST FALLS WHEN HE CATCHES CHARLIE (TWICE)!!??? Like she trusts him. They love each other. They're gonna be ok. Charlie never set out to do this but in saving all those other people she also saved herself and her dad and i love her for that. Also I just realized they have the same little cheek circles its so cute <3

(help why does Charlie look like Candace Flynn In the first pic-) LOOK at him hes such a short king. He's trying to hide it with that silly little hate but he's fooling exactly nobody.

"I'm going to FUCK you." HES SUCH A DAD LMAO he really thought he ate that one. Also its so silly how his hair part switches sides all the time I love him for that. ((Also did anybody else notice that when Charlie pops in she has her hair tied up and stuff but before and after she's like. disheveled/bloody etc. Probably just a mistake but still interesting.))

ALSO HIS WHOLE FIGHT WITH ADAM IS SO FUNNY why is he so unserious about everything LMAOO. Also bonus look at his slutty little eyeshadow in the first pic (also most of these pictures but its so silly I love it. Also probably necessary to keep the design from being monochromatic) He really gives so few shits about Adam and just beats the hell out of him it's hilarious (honestly giving Alastor-Vox dynamic a little bit but I may be reading into things too much)

ALSO THE DYNAMIC DUO!! They really destroyed that fucker so hard together. PLUS get you a dad that looks at you the way Lucifer looks at Charlie.

ALSO HES SO FUNNY HERE. Hes so fucking confused. And concerned hes just like uhhhh. Awkward wet cat of a man!!!

ALSO THIS IS SO FUNNY LIKE READ THE ROOM MAN. Your daughter and her friends are soaked in blood and you're out here asking who wants to have pancakes (I mean fair enough though. I could use a good pancake after slaughtering angels honestly). But the contrast between them is so funny.

AND LOOK AT HIM HES SO SWEET TRYING TO CHEER UP HIS DAUGHTER. WE LOVE A KIND MAN!!! (Also i just realized he only has four fingers)

Also girl what are these fruity ass stances chill out bro

AND HE TAKES HIS HAT OFF TO SALUTE SIR PENTIOUS AWWW. Hes so genuine about it too <33333

ALSO HIS REACTION WHEN ALASTOR SHOWS UP LMAO. The SASS, he hates that guy so much kdhsjksf

Anyway that concludes my rant about lucifer i love him so fucking much!!

[snaileer]

Everyone Loves a 2-for-1 Sale Part 3

Part 1 & 2 (And original Prompt)

The dining room was suspiciously quiet for a Wayne breakfast when Danny walked in.

He glanced up from his phone, pulling one earbud out, “Oh feel free to continue arguing my morality like I’m an object, my music’s on full volume.”

Dick looked uncomfortable, “We weren’t-Look, Ti- Danny, we are just a bit curious as to why you’re…. here,” Dick finished, glancing at the others like asking if they’d share the plate of batguilt-fries with him.

“Surely the world could have done without a second Drake,” Damian cut in before Danny could even start.

“And we could have done without even one of you, yet here you are,” Danny glared, “Factory defects and all.”

Damian jerked upwards with a raised knife, narrowly pushed back down by Dick.

Danny rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his phone-Tim’s phone-their phone. He held a folded paper out to Bruce with two fingers, still typing, “I have a list, if you want it.”

He continued typing as they opening the note and read it, he knew what it said.

To Do in Gotham:

1. Get to Gotham

2. Find original - don’t freak family out

3. -Find- Talk to Bruce

4. Convince Vicki Vale that Tim is/ actually engaged to Tam Fox

5. Get safe house

6. New identity? (what do clones do? - ask Connor)

7.

8.

9. Leave?

“What’s number seven and eight?” Dick asked, and Danny actively made sure his typing pattern didn’t change.

“Don’t know yet,” He answered with a shrug, the picture of nonchalance. Bruce probably didn’t believe him.

Didn’t matter. Dick did. Because Dick felt guilty.

Bat guilty.

About time he believed him about something.

And Danny didn’t care about Damian’s opinions one way or another.

He stepped away from the table, plopping another grape in his mouth as he walked past, “Welp that’s it for me, busy day, fake engagement, gotta find some crutches because I don’t think Vicki will accept my ‘you got new legs Lieutenant Dan-ny’ joke, all that,”

Danny slipped out the door past a sleep-deprived Tim with a jaunty salute, “All’s well in Clone Town!”

Danny kept walking, his brain running miles ahead of him, Ted Tobin steering the wheel with his fingers on the keypad of his phone as he moved forward and mentally filled in the list.

Number 7: Find Ra’s Al Ghul and the Lazarus pits.

Number 8: Stabilize yourself.

Danny continued up the stairs. He had people to see and rings to buy. Busy is the life of a saboteur.

—

Red Robin watched his clone linger in the jeweler’s store, trying to keep the frown from taking over his whole face.

He was making Tim’s life difficult. Tim suspected it was on purpose.

Largely because people would ask way too many questions if two Tim Drakes showed up in Gotham at the same time.

Hence, Red Robin being relegated to rooftop surveillance.

He turned his attention back to the clone, watching as he left the shop and turned down the street. Red Robin swept after him, following from above.

The clone remained focused on his phone- which was also Tim’s by the way, and stolen- as he walked down the street, turning into an alley without even looking up.

Tim tilted his head and swung to the rooftop, peering into the darkness.

“You could always just come down and actually talk to me, you know?”

Tim dropped into the alley, unsurprised to come face to face with the clone. It was weird to see his own face look so annoyed by him.

“Thought it was best to stay out of sight. We’re not exactly a daylight hero.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “Already annoyed with Vicki Vale?”

Tim nearly growled, “That is your fault,”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me it’s not hilarious.”

“You’ve spent all morning in ring shops! I have meetings!”

“Lucius can handle them. It’s not like we actually did anything this last year anyways.”

Tim stared at him for a second, confusion in the squint of his eyes and laced with suspicion.

Danny groaned with a roll of his eyes, “Fine, you want me to stay put somewhere so you can do your civilian thing?”

“Yes.”

“I am not staying in the manor. You can’t make me.”

Dread filled him as Tim smiled, “Not a problem.”

Danny glared at Tim standing arms wide in the center of the room of his emptiest safe house, “This is so not what I meant and you know it.”

Tim’s face betrayed nothing, “Look, none of us are happy with this situation-“

Danny scoffed. Understatement of the century.

“But..” Tim continued with a pointed look, “It’s my fault, and I get that. So…compromise? You stay here, work on cold cases while I sort out my current job, and when I’m done, we’ll figure out what to do, okay?”

Danny sighed, feeling Ted Tobin stir to life with plans already forming.

“Fine.”

Tim nodded succinctly, reaching for a laptop and multiple cords, “Ok, here’s my old computer, -huh, I could have sworn that had a different charger- anyways- I’ll take this,” he plucks the phone from Danny’s hands in one smooth motion, giving a mocking smile in return to Danny’s glare, “Thank you very much, now I just have to-and find the guy who…”

Tim’s voice tapers off into mumbles as he heads into the bedroom to peel off his suit, fingers focused on the keypad of his newly reacquired phone.

Danny slumps himself down on the secondhand couch, dust echoing around him. This was fine, he could do stuff in the meanwhile, maybe help Tim with his case -or solve it himself, he bets he could- and then finish the new specs for the suit wings that Danny’s suit still didn’t have.

Tim fumbled through the doorway, now in civilian clothes, already on a call with Lucius probably, or Tam. Tam helped him a lot.

Danny slouched further into the silence.

It felt like being left behind by his parents.

They had bigger priorities.

Archaeology.

Ghosts.

Danny shook his head, opening the computer and letting Ted Tobin fish through the passwords for case files.

He’s nearly 3 hours deep when he really pauses for the first time, finally stopping the continuous notes sitting next him, each a different clue. Most for different cases.

The current case pulled up on his screen scratches at him, facts slotting into place with rapid fire precision.

The officer assigned to the case is a vet.

The case is perpetrated by a senatorial candidate.

The officer assigned served on three active fronts and 2 undisclosed.

The guilty candidate is running support for a bill cutting veteran supports.

Best of all?

It’s not in Gotham.

Danny smiles as Ted Tobin’s plan fills in, piece by piece.

—

Ra’s Al Ghul should really make it harder to hack into his confidential back market mercenary dealings.

Then again, maybe it was for the better. How else would he make sure Red Robin was able to intercept the assassin in time to save that poor officer’s life the night before his case-closing arrest?

—

“Detective, I assumed holding my business outside of Gotham would keep it from being the concern of you and yours,” Ra’s’ voice is muffled through the bag over his head, “It seems I was wrong.”

“Oh well, you know me…,” The bag is ripped roughly off his head, leaving him blinking rapidly against the light even as he smirks, “Always butting into things when I shouldn’t. It’s kind of what we do.”

“Tell me, Timothy,” Ra’s says, turning his back to him once more, as he waves his ninjas away, “What does this officer matter to you, more than a state away from your usual stomping grounds? What-“ Ra’s pauses as a different ninja approaches him to whisper in his ear. His body stills.

“Well, we’ll start there. First of all, as I’m sure you just found out, I’m not Timothy,” Danny says, standing up smoothly. He relishes the look Ra’s gives him as he turns around. “And secondly, the officer wasn’t what mattered. Getting you here on the other hand. Now that.. that takes a little more planning.” Danny brushes himself off, removing the cowl to leave just his own domino behind.

Ra’s al Ghul hums, his eyebrow twitching up even as his eyes narrow in suspicion.

“What? No sudden desire to stab? No impromptu attempt to put a sword through my chest?”

“You are curious. So much like the detective, and yet… my people tell me he is currently patrolling in Gotham with the Grayson boy.”

Danny scoffs, “Oh great, another fruit loop interested in me, like I need a new one of those.”

Ra’s’ stare doesn’t change. Albeit a bit more annoyed, but still flat and calm.

“You wanna know what makes me different from Timothy, Ra’s?” Danny pauses, taking a deep breath and letting the ectoplasm ripple inside him for the first time in months. “The difference between me and him,” When he looks up he knows his eyes glow fluorescent green, “Is that I’m stronger.”

—

Bonus Scene:

Dick stared at Tim’s clone as he left, sweeping past the original’s bleary form stumbling to the coffee machine.

“Are we sure he’s Drake’s clone? He seems… less of a fool,” Damian sneered, watching Tim stand listlessly in front of the cabinet, coffeemaker off, and tablet in hand.

He looked out of the Dining room doors, spotting Danny standing not far away in front of one of the closets by the stairs rather than the actual steps, fingers tapping away.

Damian turned back to his breakfast, “I retract my statement. Clearly his stupidity was simply blinding.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Meeting Kyle For Coffee

This is not in chronological order but I needed for this to get out of my head. Takes place after the end of Charlie's Charmed!Slasher!Simon series.

(If you don't want to read it, in the end, Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!)

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle Garrick is just as unreasonably pretty as he ever was, sitting in the cafe and drinking something hot. He’s a bit leaner in the face than you remember from high school. His jaw is sharper, but his smile is still so inviting.

When he spots you coming, his smile seems to light up the whole room.

You say, “Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me. Give me just a minute to order?”

“I ordered you a caramel latte,” he says with a smile. “You still like them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, and sit down.

“I asked them not to start making it until you got here,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “Figured you’d appreciate it being made fresh. All things considered.”

You blow out a breath and lean back in your chair. “That’s… actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I figured,” he says with a grin. “We haven’t talked since just after graduation. We do each other a favor, then say our sad goodbyes. And years later, out of the blue you hit me up? Looking for another favor. Could break a man’s heart.”

You bite your lip and look at the smiling man across from you. A barista appears at your elbow with an almost overfull mug and places it gently on the table. She gives Kyle a grin before flouncing away.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his own mug in a gentle salute. He waits until you’ve taken a sip to continue. “So, how big is he?”

“What?” When you look up at him, he’s still smiling. His face hasn’t changed. But his brown eyes are flat and empty. Your heart beats just a bit faster.

“How big is he? I don’t do things the way I used to. I need to know so I can make it look like an accident.”

The last time Kyle did you a favor, the coroner had not ruled it an accident. No one had ever been accused of or charged with the death of David Toole-Kirk. But that amount of thallium doesn’t eat a person from the inside out on accident.

“I… um. I didn’t ask you here for that kind of favor,” you say. Your hands are burning where they’re wrapped around your mug. You feel like if you take them off, you’ll freeze under his stare. “I was hoping that you could… give me some advice?”

That brings genuine mirth to Kyle’s eyes. “Oh, this aught to be good.”

“I just… there is a guy,” you say. “Just… Do you… still go… hunting?”

Kyle grins and sits back in his chair. “Hunting?”

“Please answer the question,” you groan.

His grin is wide. His teeth are perfect. “No, can’t say that I do. Bit more of the gardening type now, in my old age.”

“We’re not even thirty,” you say, dumbly.

“This guy you know,” he prompts, barely keeping back laughter. “He likes to… go hunting, then?”

“He’s a pretty avid… hunter,” you say, carefully. “But I was hoping that I might be able to help him find another… hobby?”

Kyle Garrick looks almost ready to burst at the seams with the laughter he’s holding in. If you hadn’t had such a recent and thorough reminder not to get complacent with predators, you might have swatted at him. As it is, you can only clench your jaw as you watch him try and fail to keep a straight face.

“I know,” you hiss, “I know.”

“You really, really don’t,” Kyle wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“He says he doesn’t want to hurt me,” you say, looking around nervously. “But he’s taken me hunting twice, and I can’t do that again.”

That’s what breaks him. He bursts into peals of laughter, peppered with “he’s taken you,”s and “oh my days,”s that fill the whole cafe. It shocks you into giggles.

“Will you quit it!” You eventually whisper-shout.

“How did you manage to meet two of us?” Kyle wipes tears from his eyes. “My word. He’s taken you on hunting trips, and now you want to find him a new hobby.”

“Please,” you hiss. “I’m a little bit desperate and a lot at the end of my rope, here.”

And then Simon Riley’s voice says, right behind you, “Garrick.”

You’re a little bit grateful that Simon’s hands wrap around your wrists from above at the same moment, because otherwise you’d have thrown your coffee in the air. His sternum presses against the crown of your head. You tip your head, just a bit, rolling your eyes up to see him. He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at Kyle.

Kyle grins. “Riley. Good to see you, mate. How’s the family?”

“Still dead, you muppet,” Simon says, pulling out the chair next to you and settling in. When you eye him, he’s got that not-quite-blank look that means he might be thinking about smiling. “How do you know my girl?”

“Went to secondary together,” Kyle says with a grin. “She was bloody terrible at chemistry. Luckily, we got paired up. I helped her with a personal project before she went off to uni. It’s been years. Was pleasantly surprised when she reached out.”

“You’re online?” Simon asks, disdainfully.

“Calls more attention not to be,” Kyle points out.

“Told you,” you can’t help but mumble into your drink.

Simon gives a considering hum and his usual answer. “Technically, I’m dead.” To Kyle he says, not bothering to lower his voice. “If you meet up with her without my permission again, I’ll kill you slow.”

You gape at him, and, daringly, slap his shoulder. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sure, sweetheart.”

[yooglefics]

The casual type: 01 . The blind date

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,888 words Genre ( for the whole series ): AU. College!verse. Strangers to friends with benefits to ?????. Eventual smut. Hurt / comfort at times. And fuff for cute friends. Summary: Hobi and his girlfriend set you up with a friend of hers to help with whatever happened months back. However no one really expected things to end the way they did.

Warnings ( for this chapter ): Setting things up for plot purposes. Gridding? Mentions of a boner. Making out.  Author's note: So, I wanted to write some friends with benefits thing, plus a bunch of art kids… and this came out ┐( • ֊ • )┌ . I should note here I took the creative liberty to play around with their ages so everyone is in college at the same time, and if you haven't, you can check the presentation post and learn a little bit more about them. Now let's start, hope you like it! If you do you can reblog, like, comment, send an ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

The place is quieter than the last time you were here, you realize, is earlier in the day and the semester just started after all, meaning students are still moving in from their home cities. And although you want to be mad at him, you can't really blame Hoseok's choice of place for a date, instead, you're already thinking of ways to be able to escape the awkwardness of it all.

Of course, he and Mai don't have to worry about that. Is not their first date and considering they're both dance students it actually makes sense for them to be in a club on a friday night. Is their element, unlike yours, who hasn't left their room for the last couple of weeks if it's not to go art-supply shopping and will spend even weekends far away from a place like this.

But you couldn't say no. Not to Hobi. Not after he held you tight that night and didn't pray for an explanation.

He had come up with his own conclusions, though, and that's how you ended here. On a double date with Mai and her friend who you don't even know, so... Yay! Blind date added to the mix of reasons why you already want the night to end.

"You made it!" Mai greats when the both of you get closer to the bar, standing up to hug you first and then her boyfriend. "We ordered something while waiting."

Your friend nods at the explanation, "What do you want?" He asks in your direction and you settle for a fruity cocktail to not look too out of place with everyone else drinking. Mai insists on going with Hobi and he insists you stay, so, a bit awkwardly, you take the stool besides your date.

"Yoongi, by the way." The guy simply introduces himself before taking a sip of his drink.

"Y/n" short, overthinking if bowing is too formal until you decide is too long of a pause and it would only make it more awkward. In the end, a soft smile is your decision.

"They look cute together," you say looking at your friends, trying to break the silence that has fallen between.

"Listen," Yoongi begins, and your head turns to him, "I'm only here because she asked, so if you're expecting something like that, let's just leave."

"Like that?" Brows slightly closer, "a cute relationship?"

"A relationship in general. I don't do those."

"Oh..."

And before you can say anything else, Hobi is placing a glass in front of you, smiling reassuringly. "You'd be okay if I go dance now?"

A pause and then a nod is the answer. Not having any intentions of spoiling their night.

"Don't worry. Yoongi," Mai turns to him, a serious expression on her soft features, "you better take care of her, alright?"

He salutes, earning a smile from the couple and they walk to the dance floor hand in hand. You watch them make some silly moves at first and giggle, but it doesn't take long before they start to follow the beat and match it with their movements.

"I don't want a relationship either," you clarify, tone assertive, still looking at the couple with a smile.

He laughs, "I'm sorry, but that's hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Look at me and tell me you didn't just imagine yourself with someone on that dance floor."

You turn to him, brown eyes inspecting yours, "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I want it to happen with someone I'm in a relationship with."

Again, he laughs. Clearly not believing you.

"What? People do casual things all the time," you defend, straightening your back and looking away.

"You do 'casual things'?" His eyebrows raise, "all the time?"

"Shut up, you don't know me."

"That's a no," no need to look at him to know there's a smirk playing on his lips.

"Who are you? Some kind of hook up police or something?" You want to take it back as soon as it leaves your mouth, cringing.

"Are you gonna show me your license?" but he is faster.

"Okay, that was more lame than what I said," you laugh. Maybe he is not as grumpy as he seems. And maybe, just maybe, you would be able to enjoy the night after all. 

If he doesn't want a relationship either, then you don't have to deal with rejecting him or being forced to accept a second date just because you're too kind to say no. That's good.

"Yoongi, hey!" A guy calls out and for a split second your date's expression changes to a surprise one before a polite smile takes place on his face. "Oh, hi. Sorry for interrupting, haven't seen him in months."

"Is alright," you play along even when not understanding.

"I guess he has been busy with yo—"

"Jay," Yoongi's tone is serious, like the one he used to say he doesn't do relationships. However, before he can continue or you are able to clarify that you two just meet, Jay is calling someone over.

"Look who I found, love. Yoongi!"

A redhead girl repeats Yoongi's early expression and you wonder two things about Jay. One: if he always has that effect on people. And two: if he is even more clueless than you in this whole situation, since his smile never falls.

"Hi," the redhead says and Yoongi greets back just as plain.

Are you really imagining the awkwardness? Perhaps you were wrong and in the end you should put one of your plans to avoid it into place?

A few seconds of thinking go by, no one says anything and you could swear the tension is filling the air around your new  group.

"Oh, that's the song!" Fake excitement in your voice tricks everyone into looking at you. "I promise, remember? If it comes on, we'll dance."

Yoongi looks confused for a second, but it doesn't take him long to finally understand, "right, the song. Sorry guys, been waiting all night."

Jay dismisses him smiling with a pat on the back, saying something about not breaking promises and Yoongi takes your hand.

Looking around, you try to find your friends, hoping to copy Mai's moves and keep up with the plan even when you're a self proclaimed not dancer. But they aren't in sight and even if you can't really prove it since your back is facing them, you feel like Jay's and the girl's eyes are on you.

Ugh. Why did you use this plan?

Why was this something you even thought about?

When Yoongi stops and positions himself in front of you, you get closer, sliding an arm on top of his shoulders pretending you're positioning yourself to dance, copying the random couple beside you.

"I don't know what I'm doing," you confess in a whisper.

"What do you mean?” He looks for your eyes, hair strain coming out of place when his head lowers a little, "you want to go back and sit down?"

"No, then they would know I lied," you're still trying to figure out why in the first place and don't need the embarrassment too, "but I don't know how to dance."

He chuckles, "here, I'll help." And holds your hips softly, moving them to the beat of the song, matching your movements with his own. "Relax. Don't think too much about it."

"If I don't, how do I know how to move?" It doesn't make sense and is a bit frustrating, honestly.

"Is not a dance competition, or the grant ball, princess. Just do what feels right."

He catches you looking at your feet and brings you closer, eliminating the gap between your bodies completely. "Don't do that," one of his hands travels to the small of your back, keeping you in place.

"Sorry," you say against his neck. Not intentionally, but because of your height difference, there's no other option. In an effort to not be so dependent on him, both your arms move around his neck and you try to move your hips in a way that in the end doesn't match his movements completely, causing you to bum into his front. He makes a sound that you assume is a complaint at your skills and another apology rolls through your lips.

"Turn around," Yoongi commands, applying pressure to one side of your hip.

You comply, confused even when you feel his hands on your waist. "Well, I'm going to assume you been fucked before, miss casual all the time," with his chest against your back, you can feel his laugh. "Open your legs a little," one of his feets kicks gently between yours, fixing your stand. "You want to lead or should I?"

"...You." Is the safest, you decide. Your turn to assume he surpasses your experience at that too.

“Some describe dancing like a good fuck," he explains, hands softly making their way a bit lower to your hips, "because you have to learn your partner. Find a rhythm together." His movements start slow, moving your body with his from side to side, with small circles of the hips.

Your hands fall on top of his, not knowing what else to do with them. They're soft, which for some reason is unexpected.

"I have dancer friends and they never described it like that..."

"Not to you, probably," he laughs and when you stop the movements to throw an angry look his way — because you're pretty sure that's some kind of insult,— he chuckles, before continuing the swaying of your hips. "Calm down, princess. I meant, they probably just weren't teaching you this kind of dance."

And that makes sense. You can't imagine dancing with your friends like this. You can barely believe you're doing it with a stranger.

Your shyness must have shown, because his next question is why did you even choose this song.

"I was trying to help and get you away from whatever that was," you lift your head, eyes away from your feet and the color lights projecting on the floor, and sure enough, behind red bangs, the girl is looking in your direction.

Your hips halt.

Yoongi catches up a bit too late, bumping his pelvis into you.

"What ar—"

"She is looking." Cutting him off, you want to hide as if you were the one caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. So, you try to turn around on his arms but his hold is firm.

A new song starts, the rhythm not much different.

"Help me with another song?"

You try again, this time using your hands on top of his to soften the grip. He gives in. And after a look at his face, you nod.

You can decide if it's sadness or anger that you see, not knowing him well enough to tell — or at all, to be honest — but either way, there's a part of you that can relate. One for each emotion.

Throwing your hair back, letting all black strands fall over your back, your arms go back over his shoulders, this time your chest flush against him a little more than last.

Yoongi says thanks and you kiss his cheek as his hands hold you again. His movements are more determined and even his fingers form dents over the fabric of your dress.

Assuming his demeanor changed only for the specific viewer doesn't sound too crazy, and you want to confirm the theory by looking at his face, see if he is looking behind you at her. Your eyes travel against the direction the few sweat drops over his skin go, and when they reach Yoongi's, he is looking back at you.

Your body stops.

"Fuck" he whispers when the front of his pelvis bumps yours. "You really need to stop doing that."

"Sorry. Told you I can't dance."

He chuckles.

Your bottom lip forms a small pout. "Don't be mean. I'm trying to help you, remember?" And you initiate the movements again, starting to get the hang of it. Kind of.

"You're not much help right now if you keep making me dry hump into you," this time he is the one stopping, making it so you bump into his front and you can feel the outline of his growing erection.

"Yoo—"

"Exactly," he says so matter of fact, "you're the mean one."

Lowering your head, you try to not think too much about it. It doesn't make you want to run away or kick him, but you also don't want to make him feel like kicking you away. You keep repeating to yourself that is normal with this type of dance, that there's probably more than one hard on at the club right now and how you're probably not the only one who is getting we—

Damn it. Just stop thinking about it.

Yoongi stops your body from moving, and when you realize he has been calling your name, you're even more embarrassed by your thoughts.

"I'm sorry. That was too much, I shouldn't have. We can go sit now." His eyes are looking straight at you, letting you know he's being sincere.

"I need some air."

Without even bothering to wait for a confirmation that he is following or not, you make your way to the side door of the club. The autumn breeze hits your skin as soon as you step into the alley, instantly calming your hormones down.

Hands cover your face in shame after reclining on the wall. Can you stop acting like it was the first time you felt a penies? Because even if it hasn't happened in a while, it doesn't mean the score goes back to zero.

"Should I bring Hoseok?" Yoongi asks a few steps in front of you and you jump a little, shaking your head after.

"I'm good. You can go back in."

"I'm not leaving you alone here. Do you want him or Mai to kill me?"

A small chuckle leaves your throat and one from him follows it.

"And you think he wouldn't kill you for—" stop. You can't think about it.

"For dancing like that with you? Probably. But he also set this date up, so..." Out of the corner of your eye you can see him shrug, "can't complain unless you hate me now."

"I don't hate you."

"Is okay if you do."

"It… it just surprised me."

"In a bad or good way?"

"A good one." You answer directly in a strain of honesty.

"So you're not really the casual type, uh?" He teases after a couple seconds of silence.

"Maybe I just don't like doing casual in the middle of the club," you defend.

"I don't know, you were the one that kept humping into me."

Your mouth opens and closes, finally looking at him and his stupid lips pull up in a smirk. You want to erase it so bad.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And you do.

Skipping forward, right hand flying to the back of his neck to pull him in and you're able to touch his lips with yours.

He is quick to react. Kissing you back, his hands on either side of your waist pulling your body into his. But you're trying to prove a point, to defend yourself. So, you pull away slightly, making sure your lips are just about to touch.

He pulls in.

Allowing just a peck, you move.

You kind of regret not using your cherry lip gloss, because you know for sure that knowing you're so close for him to smell it but not taste it, would be the biggest tease.

You let him lean in again, not moving this time and he sighs. You smile against his lips just before his tongue asks for permission to enter your mouth. Again, you regret your simple choice of a simple red lip tint, but remind yourself that this date wasn't supposed to go like this. That Yoongi doesn't seem like the guy he was supposed to be, not what he was advertised by your friends.

Fighting back control, your left arm joins the other around his neck, moving your lips expertly and feeling his chest rise and fall quickly against yours. Is pretty much the position you were in on the dance floor minus the grinding.

Casual in the middle of the club is not your thing. Casual in general is actually not something you have experience with. But kissing? You've mastered it thanks to your past relationships and the avoidance of jumping into someone's bed right from the start.

A moan vibrates through your lips against Yoongi's, and even if it's part of the routine, you must admit is pretty real. A soft groan is his answer and the cue for your heels to touch the floor again. His hold tightens in reaction, making your dress rise up and covering a couple inches less of your thighs. Suddenly you're aware of the wind again as a breeze runs up your legs, towards the center of your panties.

Your breath caughts on your throat and Yoongi swallows any sounds before pulling away.

"Fuck," he breaths heavily, "we've to stop."

"Why? Are you not really the casual type?" You tease, stealing his line.

The left corner of his mouth lifts, before falling again in a millisecond. "Not with you."

Should I’ve added “cliffhanger” to the warnings? haha i swear is gonna be okayyyy ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @nariee02 , @sexytholland . hope you guys like this one <3

➪ The squad. | ➪ 02 | ➪ Updates for this verse ➪ Ko-fi | ➪ ♡ Tag list info ➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats

[juyeonszn]

SACRIFICE (EAT ME UP)

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 9.17k

GENRES horror ﹒ smut ﹒ angst ﹒ fluff ig?

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, mentions of murder, descriptions of crime scenes, mentions of blood, mentions of knifes, graphic description of stab wounds, mentions of potential mental illness, THERE ARE SO MANY THINGS THAT CONSTITUTE WARNINGS BUT ?!1?1 I DONT WANT TO SPOIL !1!2!2, Lots of Kissing, mutual masturbation (f! receiving fingering & m! receiving hand job), pillow talk ig, big dick hyunjae 😈, um unprotected sex lol be safe u silly geese, car sex, cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie, this entire fic is just a whole fucking roller coaster i stg it’s gonna haunt me forever

SUMMARY with a serial killer running rampant on campus, everyone around you seems to be dropping like flies. but, hey, at least you have hyunjae to protect you.

MORE omg.. my first written work for tbz 🙀 extra super fun fact; this was originally an idea i had for hyunjin from skz on my other blog that i actually started writing the week before halloween last year (the reason it’s a horror fic), but i never finished and sort of felt like there was no point in continuing it after a while— that is until i stumbled upon the draft a few weeks ago and decided to revamp, edit, and complete it 😋 i kept going back and rereading and then blanking when i wanted to add to it until last night when i said fuck it and drank two cups of coffee to power through the end 🙌 anyways.. here u all go, my baby that i never thought would see the light of day and my first time writing a genuine horror piece <3 also special shoutout to rina my soulmate @tsukidou for beta reading 🫶

PLAYLIST sacrifice (eat me up) — enhypen, awake — the boyz, roar — the boyz, fever — enhypen, fate — enhypen, taste — stray kids, wake up — ateez, white noise — pvris, heaven — pvris

“Alright, that’s all for today’s lecture. If this was your last of the day, make sure to find someone to go home with and remember the curfew rules!” Your English professor says, concluding the class.

The students around you rush to pack up their things and get off of campus as soon as possible. You don’t seem to be in a hurry, though, taking your time to put away your notebook and laptop. Your roommates were still in their music production class, so you didn’t want to go home alone, deciding to wait until they were done.

“Y/N, don’t you wanna get home?” Professor Park asks, her voice echoing in the now empty lecture hall. She throws the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I do, but I have to wait for my roommates. They’re in a class right now and I’d rather not go by myself.” You let out an awkward laugh. She nods at your reasoning, giving you a small smile for comfort.

“Okay, you be careful! I’ll see you on Thursday.”

You raise your hand in a silent salutation, watching as she exits the room, leaving you completely alone. Though a public space, in a public building, the fact that there’s no one else nearby leaves you utterly unsettled. Your stomach churns with a twinge of fear and you start to feel a bit claustrophobic despite being in such a spacious area, so you choose this point to hurriedly collect your belongings and get the hell out of there.

The past couple of months have been in this weird state of limbo. You don’t recall exactly when the killings started, but once the police noticed a pattern, everyone knew sooner or later that the presence of a serial murderer would be announced on the local news. Your town enforced a citywide curfew to protect its citizens, but mostly the students at your university.

Every single one of the killer’s victims were university students. You were friends with a bunch of guys and while it was nice having big strong men surrounding you, you knew that could hardly do anything to quell the lingering anxiety you’ve felt ever since the spree began.

The police seemed to be having trouble coming up with any possible suspects, or even gaining any leads, thanks to the killer’s unusual victimology and the cool down time between murders always varying. If the people in charge of protecting you couldn’t do that, how were you supposed to feel safe?

In an attempt to get to the building where Jacob, Kevin, and Eric were as fast as you could, you speed walk out of the lecture hall, accidentally bumping into someone. You bow at a nearly ninety-degree angle and hurl out apology after apology following the collision, not trying to make any enemies in this day and time.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot.” The stranger spits, waiting for you to glance up at him to give you a nasty glare. He looks like the kind of guy who thought he was all that, despite peaking in high school. You feel your bottom lip quiver and you avoid eye contact.

“I—”

“Woah, dude, chill the fuck out. It was an accident, I’m sure she didn’t— wait, N/N, is that you? Hey it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

There’s a familiar voice in your ears and a hand under your chin, forcing you to stand upright. Whoever you bumped into walks away with a scoff. You meet eyes with Lee Hyunjae, one of your dearest friends. He recognizes that hint of panic in your features and he frowns.

“I’m so sorry, Jae, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—” Your breath is caught in your throat and you fumble over your words.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” he keeps a hold on your biceps. “It’s alright, I promise. He’s gone. What’s wrong?”

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling pathetic for causing such a scene for no apparent reason. Hyunjae guides you through your breathing, his focus trained on you the whole time. He always made you feel so comfortable.

“With everything that’s been going on, I’m just so paranoid and afraid of being alone. I wanted to go to the music department building and wait for the boys.” You finally explain once you’ve calmed down and the rise of your chest is even.

“How about this? I’ll take you home so you don’t have to stay on campus any longer.” He suggests, bringing up a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. You nod slowly, gathering your bearings.

Hyunjae leads you to his car that’s parked in the lot closest to the building you were just in and the two of you make your way to your apartment. You’d been friends with your roommates for years now, meeting in eighth grade. You had just moved schools and happened to be put into a class with Eric Sohn, the most rambunctious boy you’d ever met. He thought you seemed really sweet upon first impression and decided to befriend you, introducing you to all of his friends in turn.

Aside from Eric, there was Sangyeon, Jacob, Younghoon, Hyunjae, Juyeon, Kevin, Changmin, Chanhee, Haknyeon, and Sunwoo. While it was a little overwhelming, it was nice going from zero friends to eleven in the span of just a couple days. You were pretty close to all of them, but you and Hyunjae initially hit it off the best. You understood each other on a different level than everyone else and to this day, you still don't know the exact reason why.

Towards the end of high school, your friendship with Hyunjae transformed into something that wasn’t purely platonic. You weren’t entirely sure when it started to change, but your feelings for him grew exponentially. You tried to keep them to yourself, hidden from the world to preserve your fragile teenage heart. Though you’d already been friends with them a few years at that point, you still had that inkling of dread in the pit of your stomach that one day they’d choose to stop talking to you. You especially didn’t want a silly crush to be the cause of that.

After a while, however, the lines began to blur together anyway and everyone could tell you felt for him romantically. Once, Eric had made a comment about it being so painfully obvious that Hyunjae was just as into you and it nearly shook your whole world.

When college time rolled around, you all knew you’d be attending the same university, so picking roommates was a bit of a tricky situation. You chose yours solely based on the fact that you were majoring in similar things, so it’d be easy to fit schedules together. (You also couldn’t handle being roommates with Hyunjae; it’d be too much for your heart.) Hyunjae lived with Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo, while Sangyeon, Younghoon, Chanhee, and Haknyeon lived together.

Hyunjae parks in a spot near the stairs that lead to your unit. The car is still running when you unbuckle your seatbelt and you stare at the steps blankly. Though the close proximity with him has your pulse racing, you want nothing more than some company until your roommates get home. You turn to him shyly, balling up a fistful of your sweater.

“Jae, do you— do you think you could stay with me for a bit before the boys come back? I don’t— I really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

The look he gives you is full of adoration, like you personally put the stars in the sky. He smiles softly and nods, reaching across the center console to place a comforting hand on top of yours. The two of you keep them intertwined as you go inside your apartment, locking all the locks carefully before sitting on your couch.

You don’t make a comment about him not letting go despite already being in the safety of your home. You don’t say anything about him pulling you into his side either, mostly because you want him to.

With all that’s been happening recently, you’ve felt so hollow. There was this indescribable emptiness expanding in you and even though you so desperately wanted to chalk it up to something else, you knew it was due to the fact that there was growing anxiety that you could be next, that any of your friends could be next. You were starting to move like you were in a simulation, doing everything in your daily routine without a single emotion. Sure, you’d laugh when Eric made a stupid joke but that’s about the most anyone could get from you aside from the occasional panic attack.

Hyunjae being here and holding you is exactly what you needed to feel some semblance of warmth again.

There’s a soft knock on your bedroom door around eight that same night, waking you from your slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep or being moved to your bed, so you’re not too sure when Hyunjae left. You rub the sleep from your eyes as you get up to open your door.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you, but we got some takeout if you’re hungry.” Jacob says with an apologetic smile, leaning on the door frame.

You give him a bleary look as you nod, following him into the dining room where your other two roommates were sitting at the table. Eric greets you through a full mouth. A small laugh escapes you when you sit across from him, Kevin adjacent to your seat. The sound of the TV in the living room plays as background noise as the four of you eat.

“So when’d you get home? I thought you were gonna wait for us.” Kevin asks.

“I was, but then I ran into Hyunjae when I was on my way to your building and he offered to bring me home,” you shrug, taking some tteokbokki with your chopsticks. “It was a whole thing, please don’t ask.”

Eric hums to himself, a mischievous grin on his face as he takes a sip of his cola. “Interesting. And you say he’s not into you…”

Heat blooms over your cheeks and you accidentally drop your chopsticks on your plate, their clacking against the ceramic garnering your roommates’ attention. Eric Sohn was now number one on your hit list. Kevin elbows him in the side and tells him to be quiet, despite the tiny upwards curve of his lips.

“If he cares about you as much as he seems like he does, he wouldn’t have left you here alone after you fell asleep,” Jacob mutters, looking at you from his peripherals. “What was the point of escorting you home if—”

“Jacob shut the fuck up,” Eric suddenly blurts, the three of you stare at him as he clambers over to the living room, turning up the volume on the TV. “Look!”

You turn in your chair, your stomach churning at the news report unfolding before you.

“We’re live just outside SNU, where another victim has been found. The body hasn’t been identified yet, but from what we do know, he was a student that attended the school,” the female reporter says into the microphone she’s holding, a glazed over expression in her eyes. “Crime Scene Investigators believe he was murdered at around six this evening, and was assumed to have been making his way home from campus. Updates are expected to come later tonight once we have more information.”

You know that far away, checked out gaze she had all too well. She’s reported on the killings for a while now, no doubt numb to the way things were at this point.

Your appetite spoils immediately and you excuse yourself from the table, making your way back to your room. You sit on your bed and bring your knees to your chest, taking a deep breath in, then covering your mouth when you breathe out to muffle the sob that follows. It was becoming too overwhelming for you and there was nothing you could do about it besides sit back and watch.

It was understandable for anyone in your situation to feel hopeless, how could they not? With someone terrorizing the city in an unpredictable manner, there was no sense of normalcy in anyone’s life. You shudder when you finally bring yourself to stop crying, digging your nails into the fat of your calves.

Through the walls, you can hear the boys talking, voices solemn.

“Why’d you have to put the TV louder, dumbass?”

“Sorry, I just like being up to date on the case, you know? I want to be prepared. What if I need to learn clone jutsu to take out the guy?”

“Eric, you’re such a clown, oh my god.”

“I get that you’re interested and all, but you have to be mindful of Y/N. You know how much this has affected her both emotionally and physically, she doesn’t need the constant reminder that it’s happening. And I’d appreciate if you apologized for telling me to ‘shut the fuck up’.”

There’s a snort in between.

“My bad, I didn’t mean to be rude about it. But while we’re on the topic, I think we both need to admit our mistakes. What you said about Hyunjae to her wasn’t cool either. I know we’re all friends, but it just came across too—”

“It was really snappy, Jacob. And a bit petty.”

“Yeah! What Kevin said.”

“I— you’re right. I just don’t want her getting hurt, in more ways than one.”

You don’t hear much else from the trio and sigh heavily, dragging your hands down your face and wiping your eyes with the heels of your palms. You grab your phone from your nightstand and hesitantly search for Hyunjae’s contact, the line ringing a couple times before he answers.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“N-no, I’m fine. I was just— I wanted to check on you and make sure you were okay,” you mess with your bottom lip. “I heard there was another victim and I didn’t know when you left the apartment, so I just— uh— I just needed to know that you were safe. I called to see if you’d answer.”

You squeeze your eyes shut out of embarrassment, even if he can’t exactly see you. The stuttering was enough to make you go into hiding for the rest of your life if this serial killer didn’t.

“Oh,” you can hear the slight chuckle in his response from the way his breath hits the speaker. “It means a lot that you’d do that, N/N. Really, I appreciate you so much.”

Your lip finds itself between your teeth and your heart is pounding unbearably fast, you think you might be having a heart attack. You bring a hand up to clutch at your chest as a fuzzy feeling courses through your whole being.

Now you were scared for an entirely different reason.

(The main one occupies your mind again later that night when you scroll through your Twitter feed, only to find out the most recent victim was the guy you accidentally bumped into. You feel like some sick version of a guardian angel was looking after you. It makes it hard to fall asleep after that.)

A couple days passed and you found yourself thinking about Lee Hyunjae more than usual.

Not to say that you didn’t already think about him at least once a day, but now it was worse. When you woke up, you wondered if he was still asleep. While you drank your morning coffee, you wondered if it’d taste sweeter had he made it for you. When you had lunch, you wondered if he’d like the spam musubi you made yourself. When you attended your other classes, you wondered which courses he was struggling with this semester.

As you were walking out of your English class, you recalled running into him. Had he not been there, you might’ve driven yourself insane trying to rush over to the music building while diffusing the issue with that stranger.

When you first began to harbor feelings for him, you assumed it would become nothing more than a silly schoolgirl crush. He was attractive and kind to you, but that was just the bare minimum— you thought you’d grow out of it. However, as time went on, what you thought was just puppy love had blossomed into something stronger. It was a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, all of that had been tossed on the back burner with everything that’s going on. Recently you’ve been too afraid for your own safety and well-being to over analyze your interactions with Hyunjae, but now you’re back to square one.

All because he’d done something nice for you.

God, the bar was so low. Was it really too much to ask for someone who was decent? Someone who wasn’t a serial killer?

You were on your way to the music building to wait for Jacob, Kevin, and Eric once again, when you see Hyunjae coming down the hall. He’s on his phone, not paying any mind to his surroundings. You’re about to call out to him when someone stops you, tugging on the sleeve of your sweater gently.

“Hey, Y/N right?” The tall boy asks, a charming smile on his face.

“Uh— yeah,” you nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Y-you are?”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I must seem like a total weirdo,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m Mingyu! We have English together.”

“Oh, you’re Mingyu? Professor Park told me about you before class today,” you give him a small comforting smile. “I don’t mind helping you!”

“Ah, that’s great to hear. I was a bit worried you’d be more annoyed about having to tutor someone so late in the semester.” Though he’s much taller than you and approached you first, Mingyu comes across as a little shy in nature. It puts you at ease in a way.

“No, not at all! English isn’t always the easiest, I get that. I wanna help as much as I can before finals. Look,” you pause, pulling your backpack off one shoulder to rip out a sheet of paper. “I’ll give you my number so we can arrange meet up dates! I’d prefer if we met at the library if that’s okay with you?”

Mingyu grins and sports a thumbs up in agreement. “That sounds perfect. Thank you so much, Y/N!”

You scribble your phone number onto the paper and hand it to him before parting ways. With the off guard conversation, you nearly forgot about Hyunjae, who was nowhere to be seen now. You feel your lips droop into a frown, since you were hoping you could talk with him for a second.

As you’re walking across the quad to the music building, a wind chill blows past you, making you wrap your arms around yourself. It was mid November and for some stupid reason, you were only wearing a small cardigan.

When you squint up at the sky, you also realize it’s more overcast than anything. There’s an angry grey cloud right above you and you curse yourself for not having an umbrella or a raincoat. You should've been more prepared, especially because of the inconsistent weather this time of year.

Suddenly, the sky is blocked from your view and you furrow your brows, spinning around. Hyunjae stares back at you with a smile ten times warmer than the frigid air surrounding you and a thicker jacket in one hand. The other holds up an umbrella just as tiny droplets begin to fall from above.

His timing couldn’t have been better.

“Heading to the music building?” He asks, skillfully placing the coat on your shoulders.

“Mhm… was gonna wait for the boys.” You respond, a little awestruck by how gorgeous he was. Especially up close. Your eyes fixate on the freckle on his nose rather than his own. He hums, keeping an arm around your shoulders as he leads you in a different direction.

“I can take you home again,” he glances down at you. “I don’t mind one bit.”

“O-okay!”

During the car ride to your apartment, you send a quick text to your roommates about not waiting up. You were happy that your relationship with Hyunjae was evolving. The past couple semesters had been rough, and you hadn’t seen him or any of the other guys nearly as much as Jacob, Kevin, and Eric. (And that was only because you lived with them.)

You toss your keys on to the mini table beside the front door, taking off your shoes with a small groan. The boots were cute, but not very comfortable. Hyunjae follows suit, his sock clad feet shuffling against the floor to sit on the couch.

After switching on the TV, you find a random Hallmark Christmas movie to play in the background, knowing full well that his presence beside you was too distracting. The brunette turns to face you, placing a hand on your thigh gently to get your attention.

“So, who was the dude you were talking to earlier?”

You blink at his question. So he saw you after all. Was he perhaps jealous? The idea shouldn’t make you giddy, but it does. “My professor asked me to tutor him ‘cause he’s struggling with English. Why?”

“Just curious. He seemed a little touchy.” Hyunjae plays with the hem of your sweater.

“O-oh. It’s fine, he wasn’t a random perv, if that’s what you were wondering.”

He scoots a little closer to you, tucking some hair behind your ear. You feel your face flush impossibly hotter. Your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat. His body heat radiates off of him with the new proximity.

“Good. It drives me crazy seeing other guys put their hands on you.” He admits bluntly, his hand resting at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder.

You know you look insane, your chest heaving up and down and your eyes widened a little. Like a baby deer caught by a predator. Who knew sweet sweet Hyunjae had a rather risqué side to him? You swallow thickly, not daring to move an inch. His thumb caresses your skin gently, goosebumps littering in its wake.

“Hyunjae…” You breathe, lips parting as you finally make eye contact with him.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You want to scream into the cushion behind you, your hands clamming up. Hyunjae looks like he could swallow you whole if he wanted to, his bottom lip between his teeth as he leans in a bit more. This moment was something straight out of one of your darkest fantasies. You never thought this would ever happen, that either of you would ever actually make a move on the other.

The sound of the front door unlocking catches both of your attention. Hyunjae pulls away from you faster than your brain can comprehend what exactly just occurred. Jacob is the first to walk in, laughing at something Eric said. The three males pause when they see you’re not alone.

The greetings are quick, Hyunjae dapping up the boys as if nothing. He’s also quick to say goodbye, ensuring them that he’ll make sure you’re safe when they’re not around. He gives you that smile of his, the one where his eyes form crescents, and then he’s gone.

You don’t know how much more of this you could take.

“So, Y/N…” Eric starts in the middle of dinner, side eyeing you as he shovels rice into his mouth. “You and Hyunjae have been together an awful lot lately.”

Kevin snorts, kicking the blonde under the table. You suppose it was going to come up eventually. This ‘Will They, Won’t They’ back and forth shit was starting to tire you out. You weren’t getting any younger. Time was passing you up the longer you waited to just say something. And with all that’s been going on, it was silly to be afraid of admitting your feelings.

“He’s being a good friend, Eric,” Jacob sighs, reaching across to flick him on the forehead. “It’s actually really nice that he watches over Y/N when we’re gone.”

Eric grimaces, rubbing the spot that Jacob assaulted. You frown a bit when you realize that he had a point. Hyunjae was treating you like a child that had to be tended to, babysitting you like you weren’t capable of holding your own. Granted, both times he’s come over, you asked him to. So you couldn’t really blame him for assuming you wanted him around to protect you.

“Do y’all think Hyunjae actually likes me? In a non-platonic way?”

Kevin’s spoon clatters onto the floor and they all pause their banter to look at you. Every time your feelings for Hyunjae were brought up, you chose to ignore them and switch the subject. You can’t keep running away.

“Uh— yeah. Duh. Of course he does. I don’t know anyone else who would go out of their way to stay with someone they saw as just a friend multiple times a week so she felt safe.” Kevin finally answers after a moment.

“Okay.” You settle on, taking a sip of your water.

“What do you mean ‘okay’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shrug.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

As you’re washing the dishes after dinner, you hear the news broadcast over the faucet. Another victim had just been found behind the campus library. The camera shows the scene behind the reporter, something that would’ve made you queasy a couple days ago, but now you feel nothing— just a dull ache in your chest. It’s messy, almost like the killer was in a hurry to get it over with.

The body is covered with a black tarp, paramedics wheeling it away in the corner of the screen. The reporter still wears that dissociated expression on her face as she goes over the details of this victim. She explains that because the murder was done so haphazardly, they were able to identify the body easily.

Twenty three year old Kim Mingyu, Sports Med Major.

The rest of the news report sounds like static in your ears as you scrub away at the dishes mindlessly. Your fingers have pruned and the water was burning the backs of your hands, but you don’t feel it, too checked out to care. It seemed like the killings were getting closer and closer to you. Part of you thought you’d be next every single time.

You had to tell Hyunjae how you felt. It was now or never.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s waiting outside of your apartment complex, leaning against his car. You take careful steps down the stairs, nearly fainting at the sight of him in a hoodie and grey sweatpants. He runs around the car to open the passenger door for you, only shutting it when you’re all buckled up. It’s not long after that he revs the engine and drives off to nowhere in particular, just like you requested. (Curfew ignored.)

It’s silent at first, save for the low hum of his music, R&B that resonates somewhere within your soul. You can’t help but steal a glance from your peripheral, fisting your sweatshirt when you see how concentrated he looks while driving. He has his right hand resting on the gear shift, the other gripping the wheel. You could’ve had this view all to yourself so long ago had you just spoken up.

“Hyunjae,” your voice is wobbly, but you steel yourself to continue. “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do you think— uh— do you think you could pull over?” If you were going to confess, you wanted him to look at you. Besides, the drive was starting to make you jittery.

He nods and goes a bit further, before pulling into an empty lot. He shifts into park, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn his body towards you, giving you his undivided attention. You mirror him, tightening your hold on your sweater when he wets his lips, smiling at you. “Is this what you called me for?”

“Yeah, actually,” you force yourself to keep eye contact, pushing the lump back down your throat. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for years now, if I’m being honest with both of us.”

He chuckles, much like he did the other night over the phone. It drives you just a little crazy. “I’m listening.”

“I— I don’t know how to word this properly…” You wipe your palms on your legs. Come on, Y/N, spit it out already. “Fuck, okay, I like you Hyunjae. Like, really like you. In the way that I sometimes wish you would kiss me until I can’t breathe. I’ve been so afraid of admitting that to myself, but I’ve realized that life is way too short to dwell over the fear of rejection. But please, tell me you feel the same.”

He stares at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. You feel like throwing up now, you stomach twisting and churning at the thought that you just ruined everything between you. There was no going back after this. He knew.

It’s as if months have passed by in utter silence with Hyunjae just sitting there, no words coming out of his mouth, until finally, he just leans across the center console, cupping your cheek with one of his hands. His vision is trained on your lips, his face close enough that his lashes flutter against your skin. God, he was even more gorgeous from this distance.

Instead of saying anything, he presses his lips to yours, a sweet but desperate kiss that melts away all the worries tucked into your head. They feel so soft on your own, molding together in near perfect timing. It’s like you’d been living for a year without rain and this kiss was the shower that saved you from a drought. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and needed and more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he breathes when he pulls away slightly. “The real thing is so much better than I imagined it would be.”

For once, time slows down in this moment, almost like the world stopped spinning on its axis. Everything slips from your mind and it’s just you and Hyunjae, here in his car in the middle of an empty parking lot. Nothing else matters. You smile at his confession, a genuine smile that was spurred on by contentment rather than force. You felt light and airy, no longer weighed down by such a trivial problem.

“I think I have an idea,” you giggle, reaching up to brush a stray hair from his face. “I’m not too sure, though, I could be wrong. Could you do that again to help jog my memory?”

Hyunjae laughs, (it’s the most melodic sound you’ve ever heard) but doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. You reciprocate his passion, tangling your fingers in his dark hair. He sighs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. Your legs straddle his lap as best as they can and he reaches down to recline his seat, scooting it as far as it can go from the wheel. The thin material of your fleece shorts hardly hide the feeling of him under you, a low moan pushing into his mouth.

He nips at your bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth gently before peppering kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking along the exposed skin from your sweatshirt. You whine, throwing your head back as his tongue soothes over the bruising area. His hands slide under your top, rubbing up and down your sides before moving them down to your thighs, repeating the action.

“You’re so gorgeous on top of me like this, Y/N.” Hyunjae says, just above a whisper like someone else might hear this intimate conversation. He grips your hips and bucks upwards to grind into your clothed core. Your eyes widen and you involuntarily moan at the sensation. This wasn’t what you were expecting when you planned to confess, but you didn’t hate the outcome. He grins at your response, reconnecting your mouths sloppily.

If you were given the choice, you were wholeheartedly satisfied with just this. You would’ve been plenty okay with just making out. Had you been asked years ago that you’d even get this far, you would’ve snorted in your own face, so why should you be greedy and want more than what you had? (That’s not to say that you didn’t.)

“H-Hyunjae,” you stutter, your brain foggy from all of the kissing you just did. “Do you…?”

You trail off, not sure how to word your question. You didn’t want to come off like a sex crazed maniac, but you didn’t want to come off like an amateur virgin either. Truth of the matter is, you were neither, but it had been a while since you indulged yourself in something of this sort. And this time it would be with Hyunjae, the one person you never thought you’d do this with. You were nervous.

All you wanted was to be entwined with him in more ways than one. You wanted all of him— the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the sick, the healthy. He could do no wrong on your eyes and you wanted to show him that.

“Do I…?” Hyunjae trails off, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you want to make love… with me?” This had to be the single most mortifying moment of your life. You cover your face in humiliation, shying away from him when he sits up on his elbows.

“What kind of question is that?” He asks with a chuckle, prying your hands from your face so he could look you in the eyes. “If I could make love to you every hour of the day, for seven days a week, I would. I want you all the time, Y/N. Earlier today, before we got interrupted, I wanted to do unimaginable things to you.”

You hide yourself in the crook of his neck, your skin flushing hotter. Weren't you wearing too many layers? The car was starting to feel stuffy. Hyunjae’s chest rumbles with laughter beneath you, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. This is probably the gentlest he’d be with you all night, because from what you could infer, he was a manhandler.

“Take care of me,” you breathe, mouth brushing against his pulse point. “Please.”

Hyunjae stops holding himself back. He’d do whatever you asked of him, only hoping you’d be tied to him in every lifetime, just like this one. He kisses you again with an unrivaled fervor, slipping his hands inside your sweatshirt and touching you everywhere physically possible. They’re warm on your skin, palming your breasts over the flimsy fabric of your bralette.

He helps you get rid of your top and shorts, leaving you in just undergarments. The sight of you barely clothed sends him into a frenzy, especially knowing it’s for his eyes only. You aid Hyunjae in pulling off his hoodie and yanking his sweatpants down his long legs. The minute most of your restrictions are gone, Hyunjae brings you closer to him. He hisses at the contact, the warmth of your cunt through your panties putting him under a spell.

You whimper when his touch travels down your front, sneaking into the waistband of your underwear. The pads of his middle and ring fingers apply the lightest amount of pressure onto your clit the second he finds it, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your nails on one hand dig into his shoulder while the other trails down his abdomen, rubbing up and down his length through his boxer briefs.

Hyunjae groans into your kiss and you gasp for air as you tear from him, resting your forehead on his to watch as you get each other off through your clothes. If earlier was something taken from one of your wet dreams, what did this constitute as? You clench around nothing when he pushes up into you, your wrists clashing. Knowing he was just as down bad for you as you were for him just made this all that much more real.

“I need to feel you around me,” he mumbles in your ear, dipping his fingers in and out of you languidly as if to explain what he meant. “Let me stretch you out.”

You nod in response, fumbling with his briefs. Hyunjae lifts his hips enough for you to help him out of them. You groan when he reveals his impressive size, wondering how exactly he expected you to take him. He pushes your panties to the side, mimicking the sound you just made when he sees your bare pussy drooling for him. You eventually get frustrated and line him up with your hole, sinking down in one fluid motion. A voluminous moan escapes from the back of your throat, his dick throbbing achingly inside of you. At first you stay still like that, your pelvises touching as you adjust to his length and girth.

“H-holy shit— you’re s-so deep, Jae,” you cry, resting your forehead against his yet again. He pecks your lips, holding onto your hips to help you bounce on his cock, practically impaling you every single time.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well. Such a good fucking girl,” Hyunjae grunts, the warmth of your walls drawing him in even further. “So tight, too.”

Your thighs begin to burn and your movements become slower, which he takes note of instantaneously. He bends his knees and forces your upper half impossibly closer to him, thrusting up into you. This new angle allows him to find that one spongy spot that has you seeing stars, fogging up your brain and even your vision.

You cast a downward glance at the minimal space between where the two of you are connected. Your moans and whines grow louder with the view of every thrust of his hips into yours. Hyunjae sneaks his hand in the middle of you, his fingers expertly toying with your clit. Any more stimulation and the band in your stomach is snapping.

You’ve had sex before. You’ve slept with a handful of other guys in the past, but nothing could ever compare to this moment. Your cunt had already memorized his size and every vein, effectively ruining the chances of any other man doing this with you. Lee Hyunjae had you in a chokehold whether he realized it or not. He had you wrapped around his finger without really trying, but you could never complain.

Your walls squeeze his cock and he knows he won’t last much longer, shutting his eyes tightly. “C’mon baby, you gonna cum for me?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, your skin flush on his own. “Wanna cum so bad for you, Hyunjae.”

“Yeah? Me too, sweetheart,” he pants, the thumb on your hip pressing against the bone. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you babble. “Please, please. I want you to cum inside me, Hyunjae.”

He kisses you softly just then, swallowing your pretty moans with something completely opposite of what he’s already given you, and that’s what sends you spiraling, fluttering around him. He groans, spilling into you and letting you milk him dry of everything he has to offer, painting your insides just like you asked him to.

You lay like that for a while, Hyunjae’s dick still buried in you to the hilt. Both of you attempt to catch your breaths and bring yourselves down from the well-anticipated euphoric state you just visited. You giggle at the condensation coating the windows of his car, extending your arm to draw a heart and a smiley face with your finger. He slowly pulls himself out, hissing at the sensitivity, but doesn’t make a move to get you off of his chest.

Where do you go from here? A line had just been crossed and you weren’t entirely sure you knew what he wanted from you. It’s one thing to imagine kissing and fucking someone extensively. But it was another to actually want a tangible, romantic relationship from them, to actually capacitate feelings for them.

“I love you,”

You jolt up and stare at him with widened eyes. Did those words really just come out of his mouth? As if he can read your mind, he nods. There’s a dragged out sigh, followed by him sitting up slightly with you perched on his lap.

“I really do, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for years and I’m willing to do anything for you.” He admits, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You kiss him gently, the pad of your thumb swiping across his cheekbone.

“I love you, too.”

The Saturday after your night in Hyunjae’s car brought everything into perspective for you.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he dropped you off at your apartment and it was beginning to worry you. Even though you made sure he reciprocated your emotions, there still could’ve been a misunderstanding. Had you been too forward? Did you scare him away? Did something happen to him? Whatever the explanation was, you didn’t like the eerie feeling it started brewing in your stomach— it was foreboding.

In spite of not talking to them at all in what seemed to be a month or so, you tried calling each of your mutual friends to see if you could get some answers. Not even his roommates picked up their phones and this made you much more uneasy. You pace back and forth in your living room, nicking at your bottom lip with your nails. Why did he choose now of all times to ghost you? What went wrong?

Kevin comes out of his bedroom a couple minutes later, expecting to grab his morning coffee as usual. When he finds you nearly on the brink of insanity instead, he decides to intervene. He supposed his caffeine could wait until his best friend was calmed down. You jump in surprise, holding a fist to your chest. He raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, my bad. What’s up? Why do you look like you’re going through a quarter life crisis?” Kevin asks you, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Is everything okay?”

“I—“ you pause and take a deep breath. “I don’t know…”

His eyebrows furrow and he guides you to the sofa so you could sit down. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“Hyunjae hasn’t talked to me since Thursday night, after he brought me back here,” your voice is hoarser than you’d like it to be. “I-I texted and called him a bunch but he hasn’t replied. I even— I even tried Juyo, Sunwoo, and Changmin. No luck with them either. I’m concerned, Kev.”

Kevin combs through his hair, pursing his lips in thought. “Yeah, okay, I would be too. It's a little weird that none of them are responding. Have you thought of just showing up at his place to check in on him?”

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t want him to think I’m clingy and annoying in case he was there. What if he just wants to get me off of his back and he’s telling them to ignore me?”

“I don’t think that’s the case at all, Y/N,” your friend sighs, putting his glasses on top of his head and running a hand down his face. “Hyunjae has never been that kind of person in all the years we’ve known him. I highly doubt he’d switch up now. Plus, he’s literally crazy about you. I’m pretty sure the guy would move heaven and earth for you if he could. I think there’s a very real and genuine possibility that something is seriously wrong. It’s like— it’s just a gut feeling, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” If Kevin felt this way, too, that would only mean one thing, right? You had to get to the bottom of this. There was a chance that lives depended on it. A quick roll of your neck and you’re standing. “I’m gonna go over there. I can’t leave things unanswered. I can’t wait for a fucking news report.”

The ravenette pats the top of your head. “Be careful, N/N. Please.”

You give him a nod before you’re slipping into your shoes and grabbing his car keys. You’re not exactly dressed for a confrontation if there is one— clad in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized sweatshirt with your university’s crest on it, and socks with sandals— but you were too preoccupied to care.

The drive itself was mentally taxing, your brain dissociating most of the ride. You’re not sure how many of the lights you passed were actually green. The closer you got to Hyunjae’s apartment, the more that trepidation settling in your lower abdomen grew. Throughout your life, you’d never been the type of person who acted on instinct or had a nagging voice in the rear of your head warning you about situations you got into. You usually went with the flow and if you made a mistake, you allowed yourself to learn from it.

However, that was prior to being thrown into a period of uncertainty like this one. Now, all you could do was act on instinct. All you could do was listen to the stupid nagging voice in the rear of your head yelling at you. All you could do was follow the blaring alarms and caution signs in your field of vision. And this time they were almost deafening.

Kevin’s car rolls to a stop outside of Hyunjae’s building, occupying an empty spot three away from the front of the stairs. Your pulse races when you step out of the vehicle and immediately recognize the cars in the spaces beside yours. Hyunjae’s, Juyeon’s, and Changmin’s. You notice a thin layer of dirt caking Juyeon and Changmin’s, as if they’d remained unmoved for a long time. Perturbed wasn’t a big enough word to describe what was going through your mind.

Half of you was terrified to take a step towards the stairs, let alone ascend them to Hyunjae’s floor. What would go down when you reached his apartment? What would happen the moment that door opened?

You ball your hands into fists, the edges of your nails jabbing the skin of your palms. The pain steels you enough to move forward, walking up the stairs slowly. There’s a chill tiptoeing along your spine the whole trip up, like your body knew what you were getting yourself into before you did. Maybe you were stupid. Only an idiot would lead themselves blindly into a scenario without knowing the outcome.

It’s been minutes of you staring at the slightly rusted numbers on Hyunjae’s door before you register that you’re standing in front of it. If you're being honest, you have no idea what you’re doing. You were acting on autopilot— progressing without a thought of what’s coming next. A shuddered breath leaves your lips and you raise your knuckles to the door.

The first knock is too soft to hear if the inhabitants were in their bedrooms, so you apply more force the second time. The sound reverberates through the hall, a wince appearing on your features. If someone was inside, surely they had to have heard that one. You wait a little longer for the door to swing open and reveal one of your friends looking perfectly fine. For Juyeon to showcase that grin of his that reaches his eyes and ask what you were doing here. For Changmin to give you that sweet smile that puffed up his cheeks and ask what you needed. For Sunwoo to blow a raspberry before he laughed at how silly you were for stressing over them. For Hyunjae to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that he loved you. You were praying for that.

But no one showed up on the other end of that doorway and you were stuck glaring at that same painted board of wood.

That’s what sends your instincts into overdrive. Your hand grabs the knob, twisting it just in case. It makes a full rotation, pushing open the door the tiniest bit. You peek inside carefully and find all the lights in the living room and kitchen off. Your teeth bite down on your lip as you enter the apartment. One of the things you hated about it, was the annoying buzz of the fluorescent lights in their bathroom. And for some reason, that was all that infiltrated your ears.

The door for said bathroom was cracked just a tad at the end of the hallway, but what caught your attention was the room closest to you— also cracked the most miniscule amount. You see light filtering through, an almost orange glow like that of a desk lamp. Your stupidity would be your downfall, you conclude, your feet gravitating to the room. It’s Hyunjae’s you recall when you’re outside of it. They always say curiosity killed the cat, and you couldn’t help but revert to a feline and nudge it open with your foot.

You really wished that saying was just that— a saying.

Eric sits ahead of you, tied to a chair in the middle of the room. There’s a piece of fabric gagging his mouth and his clothes are tattered, blood staining nearly every inch. A long gash runs along his left bicep and a myriad of smaller cuts litter his face and arms. What your focus lands on first are the several deep stab wounds on his thighs.

A hand comes up to cup your mouth to keep yourself from screaming at the sight of your best friend in this position. He struggles against his restraints, muffled cries for your assistance shattering your heart into a thousand pieces like broken shards of glass. Tear streaks mixed with dried blood cover the apples of his cheeks.

“Oh my god, Eric,” your voice wobbles as you scramble to free him. “Oh my god…”

You pull down the fabric in his mouth first and he gasps for air. His eyes widen at something behind you and he warns, “Y/N—!” before he’s interrupted by your yelp. The person pressed into your back has their arm around your neck with a hold tight enough that you can’t escape, but loose enough that you can breathe, the blunt edge of a knife grazing the column of your throat.

“Tsk tsk, Youngjae. You should know that making so much noise when your killer’s not in the room just alerts them of suspicious activity. That’s survival 101, my friend. Isn’t that right, sweet sweet Y/N?”

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Please, let her go, Hyunjae.” Eric begs. Hyunjae hums, nuzzling his nose in your hair. He rolls his eyes and scoffs after inhaling your scent, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“God, you’re a mouthy one. Not even Juyeon and Sunwoo were this chatty when I slit their throats— then again, it's not like they could talk much anyway.” He snorts.

You felt sick. You were lightheaded now, just at the thought of your friends gone. “W-why are you doing this?”

Hyunjae grumbles, pouting his lips. “Time for me to unravel my evil villain monologue, huh?” He slips a hand under your sweatshirt and pinches the side of your waist. “Well here it is; what you’re dying to know. The first incident was by complete accident, we were simply having a discussion about why he shouldn’t have been staring at your ass while his girlfriend was next to him at Jeong Jaehyun’s end of summer bonfire. The dude got pissed off that I called him out and tried to start a fight, but I shoved him so hard, he fell and hit his head on a rock. I just couldn’t find it in myself to feel bad about it so I left him there like nothing. From then on, anyone who came between us or remotely hurt you in any way wound up on the receiving end of this knife. Funny isn’t it? How you’re the one beneath it this time?”

It all began to fall into place once he laid the cards out on the table for you to read. The guy you ran into Tuesday after class. Poor Kim Mingyu, who just wanted to pass his English final. Your friends not picking up their phones. And supposedly it was all in the name of love.

“Y-you did that for me?”

“Of course, baby,” Hyunjae mutters into the shell of your ear. “I said I’d protect you didn’t I? I just want you all to myself.”

“What the fuck does that possessive bullshit have to do with me? What did it have to do with Juyo or Changmin or Sunwoo?” Eric cries. “Oh god, what about—?”

“Sangyeon, Hoon, Chanhee, Hak? Yeah, those four were taken care of way before my own roommates. You, obviously, were the chosen one this go around. Then it would be Kevin and lastly, Jacob. I planned on stopping after you three unless absolutely necessary.”

“How is any of this fucking necessary? You’re psychotic,” the blonde exclaims, still wriggling in his restraints. “Why would Y/N want you after all of this? Did you really believe she’d never find out about what you’ve done?”

Hyunjae glides the smooth edge of the blade against your skin and releases you from his grip, but takes a hold of your wrist, placing the handle in your grasp. He urges you forward, closer to Eric. “If she was scared of me, don’t you think she would’ve tried harder to escape me? Didn’t even blink when I held the knife to her neck.”

The brunette kisses your temple and you watch the fear in Eric’s eyes morph into defeat. “After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since eighth grade, Y/N. Eighth fucking grade. And this is how it ends?”

“H-he loves me,” you stutter, glancing at Hyunjae. “Don’t you?”

“You don’t kill your best friends out of love, Y/N! He’s insane! Please, don’t let him get into your head. You’re not that kind of person.” Eric attempts to reason.

Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you were. Who knows? That didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that Hyunjae loved you. He loved you so much that he’d kill for you. Over and over and over again.

It was kind of comical that you loved him all the same. You, too, would kill for him. Over and over and over again.

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 3

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... here's where we left off last time:

21. Labas zīmes, Latvian cover

Our boys are back! And they are so ready to join the Dead Boy Detective agency. I would say that Latvians don't wear much tartan, so Argyle might seem like a similar print, but it just seems so... not Good Omens. Much like Crowley's flying purple people eater tail and Aziraphale's Conan the Barbarian sword, we're straying into niche AU fan fiction territory here. I mean, it's not *wrong*, but it certainly ain't right, either.

Tier: Does the Job

22. Bons Augùrios, Portuguese

Let me start by saying this cover is so close to being in the blessed category. The layout and spacing are divine, the imagery is simple and whimsical, it reflects the humour inside the gravitas to give you an idea of the *feeling* of reading Good Omens. So few of these covers have gotten this aspect of good design right. Honestly, I would slow clap if it wasn't for that random FLAME JIZZ stuck to the bottom right hand corner of the book. Who's idea was that? Dagon's?

Tier: Great

23. Semne Bune, Romanian cover

I admire two things about this cover: 1) Their utter commitment to a clean 3-colour palette and comprehensible layout. 2) Symbolic demon giving a principality head joke RIGHT ON THE FRONT COVER. This designer had balls. cotillion-sized balls. Now, does Aziraphale's sword have a sentient rooster tassel that watches said head-giving in horror? I sure hope not, but I don't see how that could be allegorical so, I'm torn. I feel like this goes in two categories for completely different reasons. And seeing as I'm in charge around here...

Tier: Great & Not so Good (Omens)

23. Semne Bune, Romanian cover cont.

Compared to the last cover's gigantic double-entendre, this feels so tame and logical. The text is centred and balanced. There's breathing room, and we have wing symbolism! I've never seen a cover try to split Terry and Neil's names like that, which is a fun twist but BY GOD that center line is not straight near the right end of the feathers and it is sending this cover straight down to Does the Job. It's grounded there forever.

Tier: Does the Job

25. HYVIÄ ENTEITÄ, Finnish cover

In this list, having something actually *relevant* to the main plot of the book and not mangling and main characters really puts you in rarefied air. All the motorcycles are book accurate which means somebody read something! Would I have ever picked the empty parking lot of Famine's restaurant as a subject worth a cover? Absolutely not. But the sick 80s lightning tips it into "fine" territory. The text is yellow. It's pretty.

Tier: Does the Job

26. Head ended, Estonian cover.

My face after staring at this cover for ten minutes and finally realizing that this is Hastur and Ligur waiting around for Crowley to pull up:

The artist's face after watching me do that:

Do I even need to rate this? It's called HEAD ENDED. I don't know how to be funnier than that.

Tier: WTF

27. Dobry Omen, Polish cover

Some good points for trying to be original with the layout of the title by drawing a custom pitchfork "Y", but the heinous kerning and the fact the whole text block is not even centred kind of makes me take all the points back. I feel like we're pretty heavy on the demonic, extremely light on the angelic in this take. Maybe it's because on his death bed the lead guitarist of White Snake will finally admit to having designed this cover in his spare time.

Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

28. Good Omens, Hungarian cover

If I told you this designer did not read the book, and instead just watched the trailer of The Omen (the movie) and vibed this heinous brown carpet swatch into existence, you would one hundred percent believe me. I can't even talk about the faux belle-époque font right now. I am irrationally angry.

Tier: WTF

29. Good Omens, Bulgarian cover

WHO. IS. DADDY. WIZARD?? Is all I can think when I look at this cover. Aziraphale & Grommet are recognizable enough, and you could make the case for telescope monkey being Adam, but I need to find this cover designer and shake them until they tell me who this deranged Gargamel is supposed to be. I must know.

Tier: Bad

30. BELAS MALDIÇÕES, Portuguese cover

After all we've been through on this list so far, this truly sucks. It's not even weird. It's just puce text layered atop text to create a great yawn of a cover. Shout out to the designer of the Diablo PC game font, I hope you got paid.

Tier: Bad

Part 3 roundup:

[axnrxn]

hi there,

i've read your works and they are amazing! can i request the reader being bilingual and how the reactions of the cod members would be when they found out about it? (sorry for my bad english)

thank you in advance and have a good day/evening/night <3

(141, König, Alejandro Vargas, & Rudolfo Parra x GN!bilingual!reader)

TW: bad translations, fluff, some explicit sexual imagery, swearing.

Since you didn’t specify the language, I made executive decisions. A lot of google translate because I suck. Your English is great and probably better than my terrible translations! Much love<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Entendido, Alejandro." (Understood, Alejandro.) acknowledging Alejandro's order.

“Ah! ¿Hablas español? Eso es bueno, sera muy útil aquí.” (Ah! You speak spanish? That's good, it will be very useful here.) Alejandro replied, chuckling and smiling back at you.

Simon turns slightly to look at you while Rudy is driving, trying not to show his surprise.

Once you two exited the vehicle and were out of earshot of the others, he confronted you about the exchange.

“When’d you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“C’mon. You know what I’m referring to.”

“I’ve always known it. Just never had a reason to speak it before.”

“You n’ him seem to hit it off…”

“You jealous, lieutenant?”

He forced a laugh through his nose.

“Mmm, yeah right. Just don’t get too friendly with him, yeah? You’ve got a job to do, sergeant.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, before quickly realizing his proximity and pulling away.

“Don’t worry, lieutenant. You'll always be my favorite." You joked, earning an eye roll from him.

"Get a move on, sergeant." He replied gruffly, though you could tell from his tensed shoulders that you flustered him with your sarcastic proclamation.

You'd have to tease him later in his quarters about it. You loved making him jealous and flustered, the way his skin would flush with embarrassment. In private, he was much easier to tease. Especially when you would straddle his lap, his jaw in your hand as you kissed his neck. The quiet, needy moans he'd make just for you as you grinded against him.

You shook your head and regained your focus, looking forward to your time alone with your lieutenant.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“Dos francotiradores en la azotea oeste, Alejandro. Ten cuidado," (Two snipers on the west rooftop, Alejandro. Be careful.) you warned, peering around a wall.

Soap turned to look at you as you awaited orders.

"Since when could you speak spanish, love?" He inquired.

"My whole life?"

"Oi! And you never thought to tell me? An' you waited til now?" You could hear Alejandro chuckle as he listened over the comms.

"Surprise" You answered sarcastically, shrugging.

"Perhaps there's more things your partner didn't tell you, Sergeant MacTavish?" Alejandro teased.

"Aye, I'm gonna learn every last bit of you when this is through." Soap said, gazing at you suggestively.

He let his free hand graze your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek, all while looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to be off duty with him, making him moan into your mouth as his fingers curled in your hair. He was always so vocal and expressive, you loved it. As he leaned over to kiss you, shots rang out.

"Ah, shite. Goddammit." Soap whispered.

"Raincheck, Soap." You said, quickly pecking his cheek before leaving your shared cover in favor of hiding behind a truck.

He smiled and gave you a two-finger salute, turning in sync with you to clear the road.

Captain John Price

"'Ze komen om middernacht aan.'" You repeated quietly to yourself, translating what you overheard the smugglers say.

"Their contact is arriving at midnight, 0-6." You said to Price through comms.

"Copy, 2-6," Price responded quickly.

"I'll meet you on the boat as soon as Gaz takes out the patrol." You announced, waiting for Gaz.

"On it, 2-6," Gaz responded.

You finally made your way to the boat, meeting Price at the locked gate. Once the boat was cleared of narcos, he turned to you.

“Care to share with me how you knew when they were coming?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

"Well, there were a few people speaking Dutch around the docks." You replied, not realizing that you had never told him about learning Dutch before.

"And you didn't care to mention you knew Dutch when we found out we were going to Amsterdam?" He pressed, clearly confused more than frustrated with you.

"Honestly, I'm so exhausted that I forgot I even could. I didn't think about it." You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

His eyes filled with a mixture of pity and love as he finally looked over you, noting your slumped posture.

"I'll tell you what, you 'n me can head to a nice spot and get some rest before we head out in the morning. Get you a nice bed to sleep in for the night." He decided, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, careful not to press you too hard into his bulky vest.

"But if we have a nice bed, there's other things I'd rather be doing," you teased, grabbing his ass and pulling him further into you.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on top of yours.

"We'll have time for that later, love. Don't you worry," he assured you. "You rest up first, then we'll see about that." He stated, finally pulling away to make his way off the boat as you trailed behind him towards your reward.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"What're they doing here?" Gaz wondered aloud.

"They're a narco smuggling hub" you replied simply, popping out of the water next to him.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"They're talking about an outgoing shipment to Las Almas." You remarked, watching the smugglers walk their patrol routes along the docks slowly. "Who else from Las Almas would be picking something up here?" You pointed out, proving your point.

"Since when do you understand Dutch?"

"Since I went to college for a year abroad."

A whole new side of you was revealed to Gaz in that moment. You never really mentioned anything about your past. What led you here, why you joined the military, what your life was like before. You joined the military unusually late, but no one had ever asked you why. He'd have to finally inquire about it after the mission.

"What else have you been hiding?" He teased, turning you by the shoulder to face him.

"Mmm, I'm actually a Russian spy that knows 5 languages and was assigned to infiltrate 141." You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"Well they picked the best one for the job, with you being that sexy and all. We never stood a chance." He chuckled, pecking your cheek.

Alejandro Vargas

“Me encantaría tener una cita contigo, Alejandro.”(I’d love to go on a date with you, Alejandro.) You finally said, taking advantage of 141’s and Rudy’s absence. You didn’t feel like pretending you didn’t understand him anymore, as funny as some of the things you got to listen in on were.

“Me entendiste todo este tiempo?” (You understood me all this time?) His jaw practically hit the floor.

“Sí, todo este tiempo,” (Yes, all this time.) you laughed. You had heard everything Alejandro said to Rudy about you under the guise that you weren’t listening. You finally decided to reveal yourself when Alejandro mentioned to Rudy how he wanted to take you on a date after the mission was over.

He stood there, frozen, as he tried to recall everything he had ever said about you.

“You were always complimenting me and praising me when you thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to just end that, you know?” You smiled, reassuring him that he hadn’t offended you.

“So you heard my plans and finally decided to tell me, hm?” He asked, regaining his composure.

“Something like that. But I wouldn’t mind pretending I didn’t understand if it means that I'll keep hearing you tell Rudy how amazing I am.”

"Ah, this will be fun. Let's pretend, yes? You can listen to all the things I want to do to you." he teased, smirking at you.

"That'll certainly keep things interesting, Ale." You blushed.

You were thinking about how quickly things had escalated between you two. How long before he actually did the things he said? His lips on your neck, whispering spanish in your ear, his hands on your ass. You wanted to grab him by his vest on the spot and curl your fingers in his hair. You could only imagine it for so long before you had to cast your thoughts away, trying to avoid getting so worked up on the job.

Rudolfo “Rudy” Parra

"This is Los Vaqueros to 141, Hassan is on the move." You stated over comms as you peered through your scope.

Rudy looked at you, confused. You realized that you didn't tell him you understood english before. When it came to talking to native english speakers, you always got too nervous and chickened out because you worried about your accent and grammar.

"Porque no me dijiste, mi amor? (Why didn't you tell me, my love?) He asked, noting how you had refused to say anything in english up until now.

"No lo use antes de ahora." (I didn't use it before now) "Tambien, mi ingles no es perfecto." (Also, my english isn't perfect.) You replied, intentionally neglecting to mention how nervous you were about being judged.

"Es bueno, estoy orgulloso de ti." (It's good, I am proud of you.) He assured you, smiling at you as you turned away from your rifle's scope.

"Gracias, Rudy. Pero, seguiremos hablando espanol cuando estemos solo, si?" (Thank you, Rudy. But we will still speak spanish when it is us alone, yes?) You inquired, hoping he wouldn't push it.

"A huevo, mi amor." (Of course, my love.) He agreed, you were pretty sure he figured out your reasoning. You leaned back into Rudy, letting his arms engulf you as you sighed. He put you at ease so quickly, almost making you forget that you were chasing down a terrorist assisted by narcos through Las Almas. But you couldn't bask in his calming presence forever, so you settle back into your previous position at your rifle.

He place his hand on your back gently, rubbing between your shoulders to keep you relaxed. You loved moments like this. No matter the situation, Rudy always did small gestures to remind you that he was right there beside you.

König

"Konig, gehst du mit mir auf ein Date?" (Konig, will you go on a date with me?" You asked, hopping atop a crate while facing him.

"What?" He asked, unable to process that you had just spoken German.

"Did I not say it correctly?" You asked, worried that your German was not up to par with your native English.

"No, no. Your German is great..." He replied slowly, gathering his thoughts.

"Is that a no?" You teased, knowing exactly what Konig was realizing.

"Shiebe, sorry, yes of course I would like that... Wait." He cut himself off, finally putting the pieces together.

"Wie lange hast du mich verstanden?" (How long have you understood me?) he inquired, panic starting to fill his voice.

"Ungefahr ein Jahr?"(About a year?) You admitted, guessing the time frame that you've known him.

"And you did not say anything?!" He panicked, thinking about everything he's every muttered about you and your body. He'd only known you for a year, meaning you've understood everything he's ever uttered.

"Well, I was gonna tell you right away, but then I heard you mutter about how pretty I was when I looked up at you... and I don't know, I guess I wanted to hear you say that more." You divulged, seeing Konig's eyes widen.

"I have said many things I shouldn't have, mein Gott..." He whispered to himself, mentally replaying everything he has ever said about you in your presence.

"If it makes you feel any better, I really like you, too, Konig." You professed, pulling his vest towards you.

A/N: I'm finally finishing my drafts, sorry for the delay! Much love. Ghost x reader x konig coming as soon as I clear my drafts!

[imongkoneho]

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐋| 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐧.

Let us forget all the menacing things that Yujiro has done, and give him a sprinkle of humanity. The relationship with him in this is either romantic or platonic, you pick, reader. Cuz idgaf <33 🥰

Life hasn't been that fair to me. They hit me with the worst luck possible and give me a chance, then hitting me again. My father wanted a son, a strong, brave one but he received a daughter. Of course, he disliked that. So, he would force me to do 'boyish stuff' such as: Basketball, football and more 'boyish' activities.

At the age of 20, he forced me to go to the army and train there. He was...proud, swaying pictures at peoples face of me in my uniform, saluting.

After training, i then decided it was enough and wanted to lead my own life, of course my father was upset, but i couldn't care less. At 24, i left the army and moved to Tokyo, Japan.

I was jobless and was staying at an apartment which was small but comfortable and had everything i needed. Japan is a unique country...i would say. '5 death row convicts escaped and are on their way to Tokyo, Japan.' the lady on the TV said, showing pictures and info.

"...Did God send me here to die?" I mumbled and opened my laptop, deciding to look for a job, while listening to the news. Japan is a unique country..they have 'Yujiro Hanma, the strongest and most feared man alive'. "Strongest? Well he definitely looks strong alright." I looked at pictures of the man.

He looked Intimidating, large and muscular. On one of his pictures, he had an ear to ear smile, i blinked. "...he looks like it." I scroll more. "...5 death row convicts...another death row convict...dead person... boxing match gone wrong...death row convict escap- ugh, since when did the world become so messed up!?"

"Yujiro Hanma looking for a... bodyguard? Why would he need a bodyguard...oh." The pay was BIG, so big that i can buy this whole building. Mr. Hanma looks like he could kill. Why would he want a bodyguard anyways?

I hesitate and ponder my decisions for a minute, glancing at the pay every now and then. I groan and slap my cheeks. I need money. And so, i contact the number.

A few seconds passed by. He picked up! "...Hello?" "A woman huh?" Yujiro spoke, amused. "...uhm, yeah. I would like to-" "Do you know how to fight?" "..yes." "You're hired." "O-oh?....Is the pay really for real?" "It's a fair pay. Your are protecting the strongest man in earth."

------

It has been a few months since you have been a bodyguard for The strongest man...creature on earth. It has been... exhausting. This man is literally a child inside a monster like mans body.

I think this man doesn't know what a bodyguard is, because he would make me fold his clothes, buy him food and throwing the money at me, orders me to threaten the president to do whatever.

But, the pay was large and made me live so much better than the time i lived with my father. I could afford more better clothes, food and make my apartment not look like a dump.

I had many experiences with this man, i wonder what his son is like.

-------

I stared at the tracker on my phone, Yujiro has a phone (which he barely use) where i downloaded a tracking app in it. 'Yujiro is in a motel again.' I thought, 'he's probably banging another girl. Damn. How does he even fit?' i shake my head, removing the thought out of my head.

I walk in and used the elevator, making my way on the floor where his room is. 'Room 23...24...25, okay.' i stood there, looking at my phone, gazing at the time.

'11:56' it read. 1...2...3. A woman came running out, crying while struggling to wear her heels. She looked at me for a second and ran away, sobbing.

Yujiro came out, half naked. "Your lunch." I faked a smile, due to my tiredness. "What happened?" I pointed with my thumb to the girl running away.

"She was too noisy. She sounds like a chew toy." He said harshly, taking the paper bag from my hand. "...of course, it's a normal human reaction." I mumbled.

"I'm not eating here, let's go." Yujiro said walking away, leaving the room open. "..sure." I quickly entered the room and saw the woman's earrings, along with a few pieces of jewelry that Yujiro left behind.

"Mr. Hanma isn't that bad after all." I hummed in delight, stealing the shiny jewels.

-------

I sat in my apartments rug, laptop in my lap, with Yujiro doing exercising stuff in the corner, breaking the wooden floor, leaving foot marks on it.

"You have a Gmail? I didn't know.." "Yeah. The government made it for me." He grunts, as he exercised. I made a disgusted sound as sweat rolled off his body. I scrolled through his Gmail "..You don't read your emails." "It's a waste of time."

Looking at the time, I notice that the news is on and reached for the remote, turning the TV on. On the news, the news reporter explained the prisoners who escaped.

I glanced at the man, feeling his murderous aura. His smile, amused. "You going to do something about it?" "Maybe." I hummed in response.

The door bell rang and it caught my attention. I stood up and walked to the door and opened it. "[Y/N]." "Father?" "Come home. Enough with this silly nonsense of yours, you can't live without me, look at this shithole you're living in!"

"...This shit hole, is my home. I'm more happier here than living in yours." I replied, eye twitching in annoyance. He came all the way here just to control you again? He could've asked how you've been doing all these years, like a good father would.

"That is no way of talking to your father! Come. Home. [Y/N], whether you like it or not, You still have my last name." "Fuck your last name!" I pull my hand away from him when he grabbed it, looking at him with disbelief and tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

He was much more stronger. I couldn't run away.

Then, he froze. His face turning into anger to fear, his eyes widening and his hands slowly quivering. He backed away, "W-w-who the fuck are you..?" "Who are you?" A voice from behind me spoke, his voice deep and menacing, almost like he wanted to kill my Father.

I gazed at my back, to see Yujiro. He had his hands crossed, with an eating-shitting grin. I can feel his aura, an aura that can kill. His eyes looked like it was glowing, his grin getting wider, more threatening. 

My father was a soldier too, he was pretty strong, a large man with muscles, littered with scars all over his body. He scared people with his looks. But this time, he was scared. Maybe scared isn't the right word. Petrified, he was petrified.

Even if they were the same height, it was obvious whos much more stronger. "F-fuck." He backed away like a scared puppy and ran. "Such a shame. He ran away already." He said amused, keeping his grin.

"Pussy." He said, walking away while scratching the inside of his ear with his pinky. I blinked. Did he just.. protect me from my father?

----

Why do I keep watching animes with dead fandoms?

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Paris (Superstar Chapter 5)

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing

Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling

No, I didn't see the news

'Cause we were somewhere else

Privacy sign on the door

And on my page and on the whole world

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours

Roy and the Reader continue to see each other in secret while the AFC Richmond goes on a road trip.

Roy Kent x Reader

6.2k words

Warnings: Language, suggestive references, mentions of adults drinking adult drinks, Roy Kent showing lots of green flags, fluff because boy did I need it after the last couple chapters

~

“Don’t fucking go,” Roy grumbled, grabbing a fistful of the too-big Richmond shirt I wore and pulling me back towards him.

“Just getting some water,” I murmured, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

Moonlight made his skin glow pale as he started to sit up, groaning quietly. “Lemme get it for you.”

I pushed his chest back down, my fingertips brushing against thick hair. “I’ll be right back,” I huffed with a giggle. I pressed a hard, sloppy kiss to his lips before climbing out of his bed, tugging at the hem of the shirt he’d given me to wear in place of proper pyjamas.

Despite my drowsiness, I practically skipped down the stairs, my heart full of something I wasn’t quite ready to name yet. After we’d had a good talk about everything that happened at the fundraiser and what we wanted out of our newly established relationship, Roy had pulled out a homemade chocolate dessert to share, and things had escalated in ways that made me blush to think about.

A mumbled love song lingered on my lips as I opened and closed cupboards to find a cup I could use, straining to see in the dark. The glowing green numbers on the stove read 3:56. Perfect. That was plenty of time before I had to head home and get ready for brunch with Keeley and Rebecca. I could go back to bed and cuddle and maybe even wake up Roy for another round-

“Good mornin’.”

“Fuck!” I shrieked, trying to pull down Roy’s shirt to cover my lower half as a bright light shone on me. I squinted at the figure across the kitchen. “Jamie?!”

Jamie Tartt stood there, dressed for a run and wearing a shining light on his head. “Er, is Roy home?” Even in the dark, I could see him trying to avert his eyes from my figure. “We’re supposed to go for a run. I let myself in, sometimes he forgets to lock his side door…”

My entire body burned with embarrassment. “I, um, I-” I tried desperately to think of a reason, some excuse, to explain why I was half naked in Roy Kent’s kitchen, but nothing came to me.

“Oi! Tartt!” Roy stormed down the stairs, still in the sweatpants he’d worn to bed. “The fuck d’you think you’re doing here?” he bellowed as he flipped on the kitchen light. “I fucking texted you to run on your own today.”

Jamie’s mouth formed a perfect O as Roy towered over him. “Shit, I lost my phone at the party on Friday. Think one of the papps nicked it. Keeley’s picking me up a new one today after brunch.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Coach.”

Roy’s face and whole chest were red with rage. “Well now you fucking know. So get the fuck out.” His eyes landed on me as I tried to strategically hide myself behind the kitchen island. He glared back at Jamie. “And don’t fucking tell anyone about this. Or I’ll slice your prick off, have it properly taxidermized, and give it to Keeley as a fucking Christmas gift.”

“We’re just trying to keep things private for a bit,” I clarified to Jamie, who still looked confused. “This… thing is still new, and we’d just like to not tell everyone at work yet.”

Jamie nodded, blinking a few times. “Nah, I geddit. Don’t need the other gaffers and the guys givin’ you shit.” He gave a small salute to Roy. “See you Monday, Coach.” Then he shot finger-guns at me. “And you have fun with Keeley later, yeah? I promise I won’t tell her about-” He pointed back and forth between Roy and me. “-this thing.”

Roy shadowed Jamie all the way from the kitchen to the front door, slamming it shut behind the player. When he came back into the kitchen, his face instantly softened. “Sorry ’bout that,” he grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes. “Fuckin’ Jamie Tartt, losing his fucking-”

I approached Roy and wrapped my arms around his middle, blushing at the feeling of his bare skin. “Don’t worry about it,” I assured him. “I highly doubt Jamie’ll tell anyone. That threat of yours was painfully vivid.”

Roy’s body relaxed against mine as he wrapped an arm lazily around my shoulders, pulling me close so he could plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I know a real good taxidermist, too,” he grunted.

“Lovely,” I snorted, lifting my head to look up at Roy’s face. We exchanged sleepy smiles. “Hi,” I hummed.

“Hi,” he whispered. He bent his head towards me, touching his lips to mine so softly I could barely feel them. “Wanna go back to bed? Get a bit more sleep before you gotta head home?”

My cheeks warmed as I gazed back up at him, my heart purring. “I wanna go to back to bed,” I began slowly. “But… I don’t want to sleep.”

Roy’s eyebrows flew up. “In that case-” He lifted me and threw me over his shoulder, giving me a light smack on my butt as he carried me back upstairs, my squeals of laughter echoing throughout the house.

~

It took all my strength to pry Roy’s muscular arms off me later that morning. He proposed that I cancel on Keeley and made several other suggestions about how I could spend my time, all of which had me red in the face and rolling my eyes as I gathered my clothes off his bedroom floor.

Roy Kent is absolutely smitten with me, I hummed to myself as I drove to brunch, my mobile vibrating to let me know that Roy Kent⚽ was texting me for the dozenth time since I’d left his house that morning, asking me to change my mind and come back. After finding a parking, I silenced my text notifications, not wanting to give either of my friends an opening to ask why in the world my officemate was texting me so obsessively on my day off.

Heading into brunch. Call you after I typed as I walked towards the restaurant, not bothering to hide the wide grin on my face.

“Ooh, is someone sending you a dirty picture?” I jumped as Keeley hooked her arm through mine. “Is it Roy?”

I quickly stuffed my phone into my purse, hoping she hadn’t seen the number of heart-emojis on the screen. “Ha. Hello to you too, Keeley.”

Keeley kissed my cheek as we entered the restaurant. “Come on, I need all the details,” she demanded. “Please, I’m dying!”

We quickly found Rebecca and settled in with drinks and food. The conversation almost immediately turned to Rebecca’s party, which she declared a success.

“Oh, but what about…” Keeley nodded to me. “You know…”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows as she swallowed the champagne she’d been drinking. “What? Did I miss something?”

Before I could explain in a way that didn’t worry my boss, Keeley leaned forward. “Okay, Roy thought that Richard had done something, you know, unseemly to this one.” She waggled her eyebrows and nodded towards me. “So, Roy tried to actually murder Richard, and Jamie and I took them to a side room so they wouldn’t cause a scene- yes, I know, I’m a great PR person, you’re very welcome- and these two-” Another nod towards me. “-had some weird, very sexy energy between them. Then they were alone in that room for a while and when they came out Roy actually danced. Twice.” Keeley smirked at me. “Let me repeat, Roy Kent danced.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows flew higher and higher with each word out of Keeley’s mouth. She gawked at me. “Holy shit, are you and Roy shagging?” she gasped.

“I mean this with all due respect because you’re my boss, but sod off, Rebecca,” I grumbled. “Keeley’s exaggerating. There was a misunderstanding with Richard, Roy was a tad drunk and got carried away trying to be protective, we calmed him down, and he was a perfect gentleman to me, his friend.” Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend.

“Don’t listen to her Rebecca,” Keeley teased. “She’s completely in love with Roy and he’s just as smitten. In fact, Jamie was telling me-”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. “What did Jamie say?” I tried to keep my voice even and my face uninterested; deep down, I knew I was failing. There is no way Jamie would tell her. No fucking way.

Keeley smiled; she knew she was winning this game. “Just that you and Roy are always holed up in your office together. He brings you lunch all the time. Sometimes gives you a ride home from work. And Jamie swears that Roy’s been less brutal during their training since the day you started at Richmond.”

Rebecca nodded. “I can’t help but notice that you two are practically attached at the hip at work,” she added sheepishly.

“Well, yeah, Roy says I give him a break from having to talk to Ted and Beard all day.” They didn’t need to know that he’d mumbled that while half-asleep in bed that morning.

Keeley was now completely smug. “The man’s in love with you,” she declared with finality.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s called friendship, Jones. Try it sometime.”

“It’s called romance, babe. And you and Roy Kent should try it sometime.”

~

“How about Much Ado About Nothing? With Emma Thompson?”

“Fuck no!” bellowed Roy from the couch as I walked back into his living room, carrying a beer for each of us.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on Roy, a little Shakespeare won’t kill you.”

He sat up, baring his teeth at me. “I fucking hate Kenneth Branagh,” he growled, accepting the beer I handed him. “With his fucking around on Emma Thompson. What a prick. The woman’s a treasure.”

“Oh.” I stared at him for a moment, ever amazed at the things that flew out of his mouth. “So, do you hate Helena Bonham Carter as well then?”

Roy shook his head, making room for me on the couch. “Nah. Emma Thompson and her made up. No bad blood there.” He took a sip of his beer. “But fuck Branagh.”

“But Emma’s in Much Ado,” I pointed out as I plopped down. “And Keanu Reeves. You can’t let Branagh ruin it.” Roy rolled his eyes. “How about this,” I offered. “Emma Thompson double feature. Much Ado About Nothing, followed by Sense and Sensibility. That way you get to see her win an Oscar and meet the love of her life Greg Wise.”

“Hmmf.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, debating my proposal. Finally, he settled into the couch, wrapping an arm lazily around my waist to pull me back with him. “Alright. I could go for some Jane Austen. On with the fucking Branagh movie then.”

Satisfied, I grabbed the remote to Roy’s massive television and found the movie. As soon as Emma Thompson appeared in the opening scene, I laid down my beer picked up my work laptop from the coffee table and opened it. Roy groaned louder than usual beside me.

“Fuck, are you really doing work right now?”

“Sorry, someone’s got to double check the reservations for the Paris game.” AFC Richmond would be playing in an exhibition against a French club team, and Rebecca had tasked me with making sure the lodging was all arranged. I suspected it was mostly because I had casually mentioned taking one French class in school, but it was nice to have responsibilities besides editing the grammar on Coach Lasso’s tweets and returning Coach Beard’s library books.

There was a small pressure on my shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy leaning on me, his eyes skimming the room arrangements spreadsheet on my screen. “Oi, I think there’s been a mistake,” he hummed. “You’re in room 218, and I’m in room 222. Shouldn’t I be in 218 too? Would help save a few pounds.” He raised an eyebrow at me, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

Unable to resist, I planted a kiss on his scruff. “Or, I could let the club pay for the rooms, and if you want to see me, you can put in the effort of sneaking down the hall like a gentleman.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you want to announce to the whole club that we’re dating, and Ted can spend the whole trip calling us his OTP and making comments about being in the City of Love.”

Roy was clearly weighing his options as he stared at me. Finally, with a sigh of defeat, he put his beer on an end table leaned back onto the cushions. “Fine. Just make sure you slip me a key to your room. I’m not going to be standing in a hotel hallway knocking like some fuckin’ creep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.” I made myself a note to ask for two keys for every room; less suspicious than just asking for myself. “Any other requests?” I asked dryly.

“Hmm.” Roy feigned thinking. “Throwing Jamie Tartt off the top of the Eiffel Tower might be a fun team-building activity. Montlaur too while we’re at it.”

“Thought you were over that,” I hummed, checking my confirmation email from the hotel and using Google Translate to make sure I didn’t misunderstand anything.

Roy shrugged, his hand lightly grazing my hip. “Still don’t like the way that prick looks at you.”

I snorted as I sent Rebecca the confirmation email and room assignments for her approval. “And what way would that be?”

“The way I look at you.”

Email sent, I closed my laptop and returned it to the coffee table. “Roy,” I said slowly, straddling his lap and taking his face in my hands. “No one has ever looked at me the way you do.” I kissed his neck tenderly. “Besides, why would you want to waste your time in Paris on Jamie and Montlaur? Wouldn’t you rather be with me?”

“So, you’re saying we can skip going to fucking Paris and just spend the weekend here?” His nose nudged my cheek. “I’ll even let you put on more Kenneth Branagh movies.”

“Oh, hell no,” I scoffed, sliding off his lap and leaning back to watch the movie that had gone ignored during our conversation. “You are not talking me out of a free trip to Paris.”

~

“Alright, so I’ve got some Albert Camus for Beard, sudoku for Ted, and a sleep mask for Roy.” The coaches held their hands out for their requested road trip items. I held tight to the hardcover copy of The Stranger that Beard reached for. “No writing in the margins,” I ordered. “Library says you can’t do that anymore.”

He rolled his eyes and took the book. “Fine.”

Ted smiled as I handed him the book of sudoku puzzles I’d picked up on my way to work. “Thank you so much,” he gushed. “This is real sweet of you to get these little presents for us. We might have to start callin’ you Willy Wonka.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, no problem, Coach. We’ve got a long trip ahead, might as well enjoy it.” I just don’t want to play “I spy” all the way to Paris. I turned to Roy. “And sleep mask, as requested.”

His eyes narrowed as he took the sleep mask out of my hands. “It’s pink,” he grumbled.

“Goes well with your eyes,” I answered cooly.

Roy glanced around, making sure the other coaches were out of earshot. “Is this from your fucking nightstand?” he hissed, biting back a laugh.

I shrugged, now completely grinning. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d recognize it.” I playfully batted my eyelashes at Roy. “You’re gonna wear it on the bus, right?”

The man was seriously fighting a smile. “Maybe,” he growled quietly.

Before I could make another flirty comment, Ted came back, rubbing his hands together happily. “Alright ya’ll, should we get these puppies onboard this puppy?”

Roy sighed and turned around, glaring at the players who were milling around the parking lot while Will finished loading their luxury-brand luggage onto the team bus. “Whistle!” he shouted, getting their attention. “Oi! Get your asses onboard now, or else you can fucking walk to France!”

When the Paris exhibition game was first announced, Rebecca had planned on everyone just flying; it was the team, particularly Sam and Jamie, who insisted that a six-hour drive would be fun. Part of me was not looking forward to six hours on the road, but knowing I’d spend those six hours next to Roy made it bearable.

I nudged Roy as we watched the team load onto the bus. “Sit with me?” I whispered.

“Like you even have to fucking ask,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing for me to climb aboard.

An hour later, we were on the road, and the boys had finally gotten sick of singing “Richmond Til We Die”, much to Roy’s relief. Now they were all having their own conversations, or listening to music, or watching movies on their phones. The quiet time meant that the coaches and I could finally chat at the table at the back of the bus. As usual, Roy sat next to me and spread himself out a little bit, his thigh pressed against mine and our arms brushing; he often did this “manspreading” at meetings as a way to have physical contact without drawing suspicion.

“Alright, so lay that schedule on us,” Ted was saying as he tossed a handful of the trail mix I’d packed for him into his mouth. “What’s on the itinerary, Ben and Jerry?”

Unable to resist cracking a grin at his little rhyme, I opened the document on my tablet. “So, once we arrive, we’ll have a team meeting to go over strategy with the boys, followed by team dinner at a local restaurant, Rebecca and Higgins’ll join us for that, and then movie night.” A shiver went down my spine as I fent Roy’s knuckle graze my arm. “It’s all arranged with the hotel. Then tomorrow, team breakfast at the hotel and head to the stadium for the game. And after the game everyone’s on their own until we meet at ten the next morning to come back to Richmond.”

Ted smiled. “And the movie is set to go?” Despite the publicity surrounding the exhibition game, the man absolutely knew what his priorities were.

We quickly finished confirming the team’s plans for the trip, with Ted making a few jokes about eating fries and frog legs and toast. The entire time, Roy strategically pressed himself close to me, making me want to finish our meeting so he and I could retreat to our usual seats together, where we could stealthily hold hands between our seats. Instead of dismissing us, though, Ted announced that he had one more topic to chat about; Roy groaned loudly, but a sharp look from me shut him up.

Beard cleared his throat. “So, we’re currently looking very seriously at this Spanish player, Dario Vargas. Skilled striker. Would be a great asset to us.”

“And he’s actually going to be in Paris at the same time as us,” Ted explained. He turned to me. “D’you think you could find a good place for me and Rebecca to have dinner with him tomorrow after the game? We’re hopin’ to wine and dine ’im and reel in the big fish before we head home.”

“Sure, Ted,” I assured him, starting a search on my tablet. “Dario Vargas….” I cocked my head at the men. “Why do I know that name?”

Coach Beard sat up a little. “Well, he’s been a pretty big name on a couple of Italian and French teams in the last few years. So maybe you’ve seen his name on a sports network or something?”

No, that wasn’t it. This guy’s name was so familiar, but I didn’t associate it with football. For some reason, his name made knots begin to appear in my stomach, and I didn’t like it.

“Hmm, maybe,” I agreed, wanting to end the meeting already. “Anything else?” Roy growled beside me.

Ted shook his head, all smiles. “Nope. We’re all set, Mookie Betts.” He nodded to Roy. “You can go take a nap now.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbled, jumping up. Internally, I rolled my eyes at his dramatics.

About fifteen minutes later, I had Ted’s reservation settled and could put my work away. With a sigh, I collapsed in my seat next to Roy, who was indeed wearing my sleep mask. I pulled out my phone, quickly typing a text complaining to Keeley about her decision to stay home from the trip.

A hand brushed against my thigh. When I glanced up, Roy had lifted my sleep mask slightly and was staring at me from under it. “Oi, what fucking movie are you making us watch tonight?”

“Bridget Jones’s Diary,” I answered as my mobile vibrated, letting me know Keeley had sent me a reply. “It’s one of my favorites.”

The sleep mask was now entirely lifted and resting on top of Roy’s head. “Because you fancy that wanker Hugh Grant?”

A snort flew out of my mouth. “Colin Firth, actually.” I glanced at the words on my screen; Keeley was suggesting that I ask Roy about his baguette. In return, I sent her several middle finger emojis.

“You like that whole Mr. Darcy shit?”

I rolled my eyes; Roy was talking as if he hadn’t just been completely invested as he watched the five-hour miniseries of Pride and Prejudice with me a couple days ago. “Yes, I like that whole Mr. Darcy shit. Have you seen Pemberly?”

“No wonder you like my house,” he muttered, grinning. His eyes flickered to my phone. “Why’s Keeley sending you so many eggplant emojis?”

~

“No, I like you very much. Just as you are,” Colin Firth said to Renee Zellweger onscreen.

In the back row of the hotel conference room turned private theater, I let out a breathy sigh. Roy eyed me carefully, the lights from the screen playing on his face.

“You like this?” he whispered, barely audible.

I nodded. “I like anything Colin Firth says,” I answered.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “And the grand gesture shit?”

“Obsessed,” I replied, grinning.

“Good to know,” he muttered, slumping in his seat a bit, his knee knocking into mine. He leaned over once more. “What’re you doing after this?”

I craned my neck to make sure everyone was preoccupied by whatever antics Bridget Jones was getting herself into. “Going to bed, probably. Yourself?”

A smirk graced the face I always found myself thinking about. “Probably going to your bed.”

Sure enough, I woke up the next morning curled up in Roy’s arms. It had quickly become my favorite way to start my day: turning around and seeing that bearded face still half asleep, tracing shapes on his arm as he squeezed me a bit tighter to himself, and murmuring sweet nothings back and forth before starting our day.

The light coming through the space in the curtains told me that we didn’t have much time before Roy had to sneak back to his own room before the team started milling around the halls and heading to breakfast. And my mobile ringing on the nightstand told me that I wouldn’t even get to enjoy the time we did have.

“Hello?” I grumbled into the phone, giving a small stretch as Roy stirred beside me.

“Good morning, darling!”

The sound of my mother’s voice had me scrambling to sit up and cover myself with the blankets, as if she could see the way I had turned Roy’s black shirt into pyjamas. “Morning Mum,” I blurted out. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry it’s so early, I just wanted to catch you before you get busy. How’s Paris?” Her voice was nonchalant, oblivious to the scene on my end of the call.

I cleared my throat as Roy began to wake up, squinting up at me with a scowl on his face. “It’s great, Mum,” I answered, raising my eyebrows at Roy, who nodded in understanding. “Text me what you want me to bring you as a little souvenir, yeah?”

“Sure, love.” In the background, I could hear dishes clanging; she was probably getting breakfast ready.

“So, everything’s good? The team’s treating you well?”

My hand rested on Roy’s arm as I completely sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Yeah, they’re great. They’re basically big kids, really.”

“And the gaffers?”

Roy turned over to wrap his arm around my waist, gazing up at me with a sleepy grin. “Very nice,” I assured her.

“And how’s Roy?”

I nearly choked. “Roy?” I repeated, shoving his arm off me.

She chuckled into the phone. “Yes, Roy. You know, tall, brooding, handsome, football star. Photos of him all over your walls since his Chelsea days. Disappeared upstairs with you at Dad’s birthday dinner. That Roy.”

Roy tapped my shoulder, tiredness all over his face. “Can you ask your mum when I can come over for dinner again? That was some of the best fucking pasta I’ve ever had.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line while I swallowed hard. There was no way my mother didn’t hear Roy. And she was definitely capable of recognizing that it was way too early for me to have company. Finally, whisper came from her end: “Is that Roy?”

The options weighed in my head. Flat-out lying and telling my mum that she was crazy, that she’d just heard the television, no way was Roy Kent in my hotel room, was probably not an option. She’d had dinner with the guy; she knew his voice. There was always telling her that the team was getting together for an early-morning breakfast, but the room was too silent to believe twenty-something football players were horsing around a hotel dining room.

That only left me with one choice: the truth.

“Yeah, Mum, that’s Roy,” I admitted, biting my lip.

To my surprise, she laughed. “Well, I’ll be! I was wondering what happened after Dad’s dinner. You hadn’t mentioned any other fellas in a while.” She paused thoughtfully. “Does he treat you well?”

Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard. “I’m so glad, darling. When you’re back from Paris, we’ll have the two of you over for dinner. No birthdays this time.”

My gaze fell to Roy, who was watching me curiously, eyebrows raised. His eyes were full of the adoration I had quickly gotten used to as his fingers traced circles on my hip. “Really well,” I promised my mum, smiling down at Roy. “The best, actually.”

Relief and joy filled my chest. “That would be great, Mum. Roy’d love that. He still asks about that pasta you made for Dad’s birthday.” Roy smiled at the mention of the food he’d been bothering me about since the dinner in question. “Listen, I gotta go, we’ve got some team things to do before the game. But I’ll send you and Dad pictures, and I’ll call you when I’m back in town, alright?”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. When I placed my phone back on the nightstand, Roy was sitting up, watching me carefully.

“You told your mum about us,” he observed quietly. The look in his eyes was unreadable.

I pulled my knees to my chest, nodding. “Hope that’s okay,” I murmured. “I… I hadn’t planned on telling my folks yet. But I know they won’t tell anyone til we tell them we’re ready.”

To my surprise, Roy leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Of course it’s okay. Just promise me one thing.”

I leaned my head against his, nodding earnestly. “Anything.”

“Get me that damn pasta recipe.”

~

The game went magnificently. The French club had a stellar reputation, but the Greyhounds were up to the challenge. Two remarkable assists from Jamie, incredible goals each from Sam and Colin, and an unbelievable penalty kick from Dani led to a Richmond victory.

Back at the hotel lobby, the boys made plans to go out on the town to celebrate, with Richard taking the reigns thanks to his own experiences in the city. Ted and Rebecca bowed out to go to the dinner reservations I’d made for them and the player they were trying to court, and Beard had already left to meet his girlfriend who had made the last-minute decision to fly in that afternoon to spend the evening together.

That just left me and Roy.

“You didn’t want to go out with them, did you?” he asked quietly as we watched the guys debate where to start their night.

I shrugged. “They invited me,” I admitted. “But someone had given me instructions to pack that red dress I’d worn to the charity ball, so I was hoping I had plans tonight already.”

Sneaking another glance at the team, who slowly made their way back up to their rooms to change into their clubbing outfits, Roy slipped me a piece of paper, scrawled on in his sloppy handwriting. “Go outside at eight. There’ll be a car waiting for you. Give the driver this address.” He paused, his eyes flickering to my mouth for a brief moment. “Wear the red dress,” he added.

“Aye, aye Coach,” I agreed, shooting him a puzzled grin. With a short growl, Roy turned and walked out of the lobby, leaving me with the paper in my hands and several questions in my head.

At eight on the dot, I made my way down from my room to the lobby. With the red dress and heels on, as well as the inordinate amount of time I’d spent on my hair and makeup, and a night in Paris ahead of me, I felt a bit like a movie star. A few of the guys were lingering in the lobby, waiting for the group to assemble. They waved when they saw me and called out compliments; I even heard a joking wolf-whistle from Colin.

“Thanks guys!” I called out as I approached them. “You guys going to get into some trouble?”

“You comin’ out with us?” Isaac asked, gesturing to the group. “Richard’s got a great night planned for us. We’ll all take turns dancing with you and you won’t have to buy a single drink, it’s all on us.”

Dani winked. “Unless you ditch us for a French guy and we don’t see you until mañana.”

“I don’t think Roy would like that very much,” Richard chirped, cackling to himself.

The guys all turned and glared at him, hissing at him to shut up and reminding him that we all agreed not to tease her and giving him a warning that Roy’s going to kill you.

I cleared my throat, hoping they’d assume the blush on my cheeks was just makeup. “Um, I’m sorry, what’s happening?”

The guys all looked at each other helplessly before Colin finally spoke up. “We just all noticed there’s a bit of… tension between you and Roy? The good kind,” he added quickly. “We all totally ship it.” There was a murmur of agreement among the team.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Come on guys, leave ’er alone. They’re friends. Roy’d murder all of ya if he heard the way you’re talking.” He smiled at me. “You, go. Have a good night, whatever you end up doin’.” The wink Jamie shot me had me wondering if he knew what awaited me once I walked out of the hotel.

After wishing each other good evenings, I left the team and headed outside. Indeed, there was a black car waiting for me with a driver, uniform and hat and all. He nodded at me as I approached.

“Mr. Kent’s friend?” he asked, smiling.

“Um, yes,” I confirmed, pulling the piece of paper out of my clutch. “He said to give you this.”

The driver took the paper and opened the door for me. “If you’re ready.”

I gazed out the window as we drove, glancing down at my mobile every few minutes. I had sent Roy a text when I got in the car to let him know I was on my way, and all I got was a thumbs-up emoji. While part of me was enjoying the mystery of it all, I couldn't help but feel nervous. Where was he taking me? Some small café on the outskirts of the city where no one would notice us? Another hotel, where we could actually share a room? Wherever it was, it would probably be somewhere dark and quiet where we could hide in a corner.

Instead, we slowly pulled into a parking structure. Fuck, maybe Will was right when he told me he thinks Roy might be a serial killer.

The driver parked and turned to me. “We’re here,” he announced, although I couldn’t figure out where “here” was.

“Er, thanks,” I mumbled as I opened the car door. “Will you wait here or…?”

“’m not going to kill you,” a familiar growl called out.

There was Roy, hands in his pockets, standing under the light of the parking structure. He wore the same black suit he’d worn at the gala; if he was a serial killer, he was the most attractive one in history. He smiled and waved me over.

Click, click, click went my heels on the sidewalk as I approached him. He reached out and took my hand before planting a firm kiss on my lips.

“Roy, where are we-”

“Just watch,” he chuckled as he led the way. The street was shockingly empty, considering this was Paris of all places.

Before I could ask Roy any more questions, we turned a corner and my heart jumped into my throat. “Roy, is that-”

“Yeah, that’s the fucking Louvre.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “What’re we doing at the Louvre?” I asked incredulously.

Roy rolled his eyes and tugged me onwards towards the lit-up pyramid. “Stealing the Mona Lisa.”

“Roy.”

A smile graced his face. “Having dinner. Happy?”

I shook my head, my mind spinning. “How… I mean what… Holy shit…”

“Sometimes being a retired footballer comes in handy,” he joked. “I called a guy, wrote a check, and they closed the most famous museum in the world for us.” He shrugged. “No big deal.” The sparkle in his eye told me that no, he wanted me to think that this was a big deal.

Which it absolutely fucking was.

We made our way into the museum, with the security guard tipping his hat to us and greeting “Mr. Kent”. Our steps echoed on the marble floor as we walked from room to room, Roy never letting to of my hand. He pointed out a few paintings as we walked, softly sharing the names of artists he particularly liked.

Roy Kent likes art, I thought to myself. Every new thing I learned about the man made my heart fall a little bit further in… No, don’t say that yet, I scolded myself, trying to focus on the name Roy was whispering to me now.

We finally arrived in the room that held the most recognizable painting in history: the Mona Lisa. But my eyes were drawn away from her and to the table that had been set up and the waiter who stood beside it. I looked at Roy.

“We’re having dinner with the Mona Lisa?” I hissed.

He shrugged and led me to the table, pulling my chair out for me. “Hope that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. It was the most romantic thing I’d ever heard of, probably the most grand gesture I’d ever seen.

“When’d you set this up?” I asked as the waiter poured two glasses of champagne.

Roy cleared his throat and bobbed his head a bit, a nervous habit I now knew well. “Late last night,” he mumbled.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a smirk on my lips. “Before or after Bridget Jones?”

“After,” he growled, pink tinting his cheeks. “Satisfied?”

My smile grew. “So, after we watched Bridget Jones and you asked me what I thought of grand gestures, you went and planned the grandest gesture of all time?”

A laugh escaped his lips. “I take it this is more impressive than Pemberly?”

“Much more impressive,” I confirmed, taking a sip of champagne. “Thank you, Roy.”

He leaned forward and laid a hand on top of mine. “Well, I figured we should celebrate.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “What’re we celebrating? Not today’s win, I assume.”

“Fuck no.” He took a deep breath and gave my hand a squeeze. “I just figured that the longest relationship I’ve ever been in is worth celebrating.”

Numbers flew in my head as I quickly did the math. “But Roy, we’ve only been-”

He shook his head. “It has been four months and six days since your dad’s birthday. I know it’s not the official day we got together or anything, but I figured it's…” He shrugged, trailing off. His eyes were begging me not to laugh at him or tell him he was wrong.

As if I could.

“Something worth celebrating,” I repeated, lifting my champagne.

Roy smiled and lifted his own glass, tapping it to mine with a clink. “To really fucking liking each other.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “To really fucking liking each other.”

[thesmpisonfire]

Alright guys. It's me again with a new theory <3

Okay, so.

Today's main Big Thing was Richas' apparently possession and diaries and his art. At surface level, it seems like just a small little arc to give a nudge towards Cellbit's RPG, more specifically the spin-off O Segredo Na Ilha (The Secret Within the Island). But, this wasn't the only thing that happened today...

Leonarda had a nightmare today, one that caused her to stay up the entire night and even write a whole book to tell Foolish about it

And i think both events are connected

Follow me on this, oki?

First, lemme show y'all Leo's notes + signs again

Breaking down the nightmare, Leo talks about how she was trapped in a weird room, not being able to escape and feeling very afraid, while he was still trapped in the room, she heard weird sounds starting, and he couldn't see anything.

Leo finishes the topic saying that, sometimes, she knows things without knowing.

Now, to Richas' diary. If you want to read the entire translation, here's the link to a post, I'll be focusing on 2 pages out of the 7

At first, it all seems like a big salute to the spin off, a direct reference with an enigma to keep the Brazilians (more specifically Cellbit and Forever) hooked. But...

These pages. Richa talks about a metallic sound that reverberated like a bell, and how it made him feel deeply tormented and scared, doubting his own existence. He says he claimed to the skies as a prayer, he asks for an exit

So. Okay. What I'm trying to say?

Leo and Richas are talking about the same thing.

Both of them talk about how they saw themselves trapped somewhere, tormented by a sound and feeling deeply afraid. There was no way out no matter what they did

Both refer to how they know things at the same time as they don't. Something tipped for Leo that she wants to be immortal and a robot in order to protect his family, Richarlyson suddenly went into a whole Jekyll and Hyde arc

Richa's way of explaining was through enigmas and nods towards Cellbit's rpg because Cellbit has been integrating his RPG's mythos within the server (the ritual room, explaining it all to richa, his whole castle theme). Leo is approaching as if she's the haunted kid from a horror movie

The past of these eggs is suddenly coming back into their minds, and, as far as we can theorize, the possibility that these eggs used to be human before is getting stronger by the day

[tmntxthings]

Hey there! You already know I love love LOVE your writing. I never really have ideas to make requests but I feel like you’d really make this one special 🥺 Whenever you can get to it, I’d love a sort of Rise Leo x female insomniac reader type thing.

I’m an incredibly light and anxious sleeper and being woken up by the littlest thing at 3 AM like a phone notification or noise/talking right outside my door–or literally just not being able to stay asleep–and then not being able to fall back asleep no matter what despite being exhausted is the most frustrating thing… And when I say frustrating I really do sometimes mean like, tears in my eyes, pull my hair out, feeling the most untapped anger at a whole night of sleep being ruined by one lil thing, lol

I was wondering how you think Leo would help coax a restless sleeper back to a peaceful slumber with him? Ig it doesn’t hurt he’s such an insomniac too 😂

Ultimately however you want to do this is up to you of course! Thanks for inspiring a fellow writer 😄💚

Dreamscape

author’s note: i recently couldn’t fall asleep so this was pretty fun to write <3 i hope you enjoy

warnings: fluff, insomnia, crack, established relationship, unedited

—————————————————————————

And then, after sweeping her off of her feet, portaling us both into the lair, I’ll place her back down. Dip my totally unnecessary yet necessary sunglasses for heart fluttering effects and then pull back the curtain to my humble abode. Then-

“Whatcha writing?” Michelangelo was a tad to close and Leonardo had been so observed in said writing that he hadn’t heard his little brother approach. “What writing?!” Leo squawked as he crumbled up the paper as fast as possible. He was up standing and leaning against his desk, desperately trying to seem nonchalant. Mikey gave him a once over, one brow bone raising.

“Okay you got me. I was journaling my thoughts like you suggested!” Leo spoke quietly, and lied smoothly. There was no way he was letting any of his brothers, yes even darling Angelo, that he was planning a sleepover. No one could know. “Really?!” Mikey beamed, happy to hear his advice being followed. “Really really!” Leo cheesed, a smidge of guilt finding its way in as Mikey gave him a thumbs up and encouraged him to continue. “If you ever want to take it to the next step just let me know! We can talk about what you write down if you feel comfortable!!” With that Mikey departed, a skip in his step.

Leo counted down to five, then to ten just to be safe. And wouldn’t you know it at second seven Mikey peered his head through the curtains. “Yes?” Leo said, it was his turn to raise a brow bone. “Pizza later? We gotta do the rock-paper-scissors ritual to see who has to go pick it up.” Leo replied swiftly, “I’ll be there just uh- shoot me a text or something. I might be too concentrated on my writing again!~” with that Mikey gave a tiny salute and disappeared behind the curtain once more.

Another ten second countdown and Leo finally allowed himself to crash into his chair. “Too close…” he murmured to himself as he shook his head. His fist unfurled and a ball of paper revealed itself. He uncrumbled it as best he could, smoothing it out with his hand until the crinkles were bearable. “Now where was I?” Pencil in his three fingered hand, he tapped his chin with the eraser as he read over what was already written. For the life of him he couldn’t continue the thought and it frustrated him so much that the paper was crumbled and thrown into the trash bin next to his desk.

Screw it! He was better coming up with stuff on the fly anyways. What was the point in micromanaging like someone he knew when the unexpected was bound to happen. After tidying up his room, reading a comic or two, eating a slice or four from the pizza he didn’t have to go pick up (Leo losing? Hah unheard of!), he finally got the text he had been waiting all night for.

I think I’m ready! Portal in on the roof <3 -Y/n💙

Already there ;3 -LeontheGreatest

You had been in the middle of typing back a snarky reply when you saw a blue flash from your peripheral. You stopped typing and put your phone away as you turned to see him, in a grand pose of course. “Your portal awaits!” He smiled. “Well hiya Lee, nice to see you too, how was your day?” You mused as you strolled his way, being taken by complete surprise as he lifted you up, sleepover bag and all, bridal style. “Oh Y/n, we know each other too well for such pleasantries! But if I must, Hi beautiful~ how boring was your day without me?” Leo walked into the portal and the next second he was back in his room. Ack?! It was supposed to portal him right outside of his room!

He suppressed a groan, somewhat dismayed that he couldn’t do his grand reveal like he had thought up. “Just as you said, it dragged by! You can put me down now you goof!” You laughed, taking in his room for the first time in person. “Yeah I had a whole, outfit and grand entrance planned but tada! Welcome to my humble abode.” He gave you jazz hands. “Your portal entrance was grand enough” you smiled sweetly, he couldn’t let go of all the theatrics for even a moment!

He was giving you a detailed room tour, though you had to remind him he didn’t have to show you every single comic he had collected since mutation. The two do you settled onto his bed, talking more in depth about the day or anything else that crossed both your minds. The night carried on like usual, the only difference that this sleepover was at his place instead of yours. Movie after movie, silly jokes, tiktok showcasing, shared snacks. It was perfect. Leo let out a yawn and a minute later you caught it too. “Should we call it a night?” He asked already reaching over to flick off the strung up lights. “We can try, I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep just yet,” you sighed and Leo gave you a knowing nod.

He knew it took you quite some time to fall asleep, and then be able to stay that way was an even harder challenge. He could relate, he had probably had a sleeping disorder with how irregular he passed out. “No harm in trying, come here,” he opened up his arms for you to snuggle up under the covers with him. Once situated he was pressing soft kisses into your temple, murmuring how happy he was that you came over, saying how pretty you were, he considered himself a lucky turtle. As sweet as he was being, it didn’t help your case with trying to sleep, you were a blushing mess, heart pounding at his sugary words.

You turned in his embrace, and he looked down into your eyes. “Leo!” You half whined, and he chuckled kissing your lips this time before saying, “Right right, sleep time!” His chin nuzzled the top of your head as you pressed a cheek into his plastron. It wasn’t complete silence since you were so close you could hear every breath he took, but the steady rhythm helped you relax and you slipped into a light sleep.

You woke up an hour later, surprised to have fallen asleep so quickly, but the astonishment was dashed when you realized quite quickly you weren’t falling back asleep. It was getting kind of stuffy pressed against Leo now so you tried to pull away without waking him. You stuck one leg out of the covers trying to cool down. You turned so you were lying on your back. Then you tried your stomach. Nothing was working and you felt time dragging on. The night have been perfect and why did your insomnia have to come and ruin it?!

You took in a deep breath, trying to not get too frustrated as you tried other remedies. Breathing in and out deeply. Letting your thoughts wander. Coming up with random scenarios. Trying to remember fuzzy dreams. Counting sheep for pete’s sake! Your breathing hitched as you looked over to Leo, you didn’t want to wake him, but maybe it was just better to go home. No! You shook your head and the hot tears started to fall. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand, blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

“Y/n?” Leo murmured, feeling the empty space where you had been cuddled next to him. You didn’t think you were ready to talk yet, in fact you were pretty certain you’d sob out his name. His eyes opened at your silence, and then he was quickly sitting up when he saw your body shake from quieted crying. “What’s wrong baby?” His hands went out petting your hair and then rubbing those salty tears away. “Sorry Leo I’m just so frustrated,” you managed to get out. The tears didn’t seem like they were stopping despite his efforts.

He waited for you to explain, not wanting to assume. Leo hoped he hadn’t woken you somehow. “I was sleeping just fine but, n-now I can’t get back to sleep. I tried everything, I even took melatonin before coming here!” You blew out a breath. Utterly exhausted having gotten so worked up emotionally yet sleep still evaded you. “Lemme help, I got you to sleep before didn’t I?” Your eyes were big and glassy, the tears subsiding finally. You nodded and wondered what he would try, you really had tried everything!

“Do you wanna cuddle or is it too hot?” He asked gently, not wanting to crowd you since you had moved away. “It’s a little hot,” you confessed meekly, so instead of pulling you to him, Leo reached out his hand, finding yours and started to rub his thumb over the top soothingly. It felt nice, you closed your eyes wondering if this might work. But it didn’t stop there, Leo started to sing, he had a beautiful voice, you always thought it was quite funny he wanted to be the guitarist in the band with his brothers.

The words melted into him just humming. You gravitated just a tad closer to Leo, getting comfortable once more, his thumb still rubbing shapes into your skin. It didn’t happen instantly but you fell asleep and Leo couldn’t help his smile. Twice in one night, he was on a roll! Maybe he could be your new melatonin. His thumb spelled out, i-love-you before he finally drew his hand back. He hoped you would be able to sleep throughout the rest of the night, but even if you woke up again, or multiple times more, he’d help you go back to sleep. <3

[divinekangaroo]

Was Tommy upset Lizzie left him? He tells Diana he is not.

Actually kind of fascinated by the thought of viewing PB believing that everything the characters say is true. They’re a bunch of situational liars as well as coming from positions of not everyone in-series having all the information.

So, Tommy telling Diana he’s not upset his wife left him. Here’s a few readings:

1) Tommy is outright lying.  As if he’d EVER tell the fascist upper class woman who cornered him into unwanted performative sex (remember immediately after he fell into a traumatic flashback?) whose partner also made him perform a Nazi salute (and please be aware that the Romani people across Europe experienced a holocaust too - this can be found easily on Wiki and various holocaust websites - this act cut him so deeply, remember the submachine gun scene following?) -- AND THEN broke up his marriage in a mirroring of the Nazi salute scene within (at most) one day after him having sex with Diana, as if he'd ever tell this woman who he KNOWS is mentally and morally and deliberately FUCKING with him: ‘yeah actually I’m super upset and sad.  Hope you won’t find a way to pour salt on that wound too.’

2) Tommy is telling a version of truth.  He’s not upset because he’s relieved that Lizzie will no longer have the burden of his death and the rest of this clusterfuck of what’s going on.  It’s over and done now, the pain’s as bad as it can get, and at least Lizzie doesn’t have to suffer the remaining painful things he’s going to have to do, like force himself to fuck Diana again, or kill himself, or be murdered, or declare himself publicly a fascist, or be publically discredited, or any one of a hundred compromising things that he believes he needs to do to stop Mosley, but that would hurt Lizzie more.

3) Tommy is telling both a truth (per the above) and a lie.  Tommy is upset Lizzie left him, notwithstanding any relief as well; Tommy never gave any indication he wanted her to leave him.  I’ve written about this before (https://www.tumblr.com/divinekangaroo/730179748259627008/tommy-says-sorry-to-lizzie-a-phenomenal-amount-of?source=share) In addition to everything at that post, the lameness of his attempt to talk to Lizzie after Diana’s dropped her bomb is telling in itself: this man had a whole crowd eating out of his hand during his speech at the start of S6.  This man speaks beautifully in parliament.  He is a master of oratory.  And yet, he can’t speak convincingly to his wife?  He couldn’t come up with some compelling position statement for her?  That’s because we see this repeated motif that he can speak when it’s not personal – it's policy, there’s distance, the Sergeant Major speaking to his men – but when it’s personal (Lizzie here, Michael in S5, Ruby’s death etc), he gets *so* upset he can’t speak, or when he does it's this faltering, broken sort of thing.

But – and I have seen this bouncing around tumblr - a reading that he wasn’t upset Lizzie left him because he thought Lizzie was a huge drag and now he could be free to fuck Diana because he enjoyed fucking Diana because it got one up over Mosley – I just.  *blinks, bewildered*