#ill take a visit to the hat man

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 [𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Aventurine x dealer!fem!reader

Warnings: gambling, sexual tension.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq I'm just starting my blog on Boosty, but I'll be glad if you support me with a subscription and read the full NSFW version of this work there. Soon there will be other works that will not be published on Tumblr.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. VIVIZ — MANIAC

You have long heard from other casino employees about a certain visitor, which comes here quite often, but you have never been lucky enough to meet him until today. The girls sighed languidly, referring to him as a handsome man, preparing to serve him the best drink, for which he would pay generously, and the men working in security only irritably noted that if he visited the institution today, they would only have more work. Then you didn't pay any attention to their words until one of the bar staff squealed with delight, energetically pointing at the blond man who entered the hall.

A dazzling smile, a light gait, but a sly look hidden behind gold glasses, gliding across the tables and the employees standing behind them before playfully sparkling violet-blue eyes rest on you. Your back straightens reflexively, and your fingers wrap around the back of your hand, and you nod in greeting when several men, led by a blond man, approach your poker table. You have been working in the field of gambling for several years, so you can easily notice expensive watches, chains and rings on his hands and a long earring in the ear of an elegant man in a hat, dressed in a black jacket with a fur collar, a turquoise shirt with a small but provocative neckline on the chest and white trousers with patent leather shoes. In total, all the clothes and trinkets of this person can be compared to the cost of your life. Winning will not matter to him, as losing will not greatly affect the quality of his life, which means he simply enjoys a sense of excitement and superiority, since, according to rumors, he plays very well.

«Well…»

— Oh? I haven't seen you before, — the blond man lowers his glasses on the bridge of his nose, smiling slyly at you as soon as you raise your head.

— I'm sorry, sir, today I'm serving you, because the dealer who is more familiar to you is ill, but I assure you, this will not affect the quality of the time spent in our institution in any way, — you kindly answer with a calm expression on your face, which causes the blonde to chuckle softly.

— How official! Relax, honey, — the man leans lower, slightly tilting his head to one side, carefully watching how the expression on your face changes to a more tense one. — It's a pity that… Oh, what was her name? — the blonde pulls away, thinking for a second, trying to remember the name of your colleague, but in the end only sighs briefly, spreading his hands. — It doesn't matter. You've been brought up to date, that we're going to need a separate room, haven't you?

— Yes, sir. Please follow me.

An unpleasant person. It was clear from afar that it was better to stay as far away from him as possible. These vibes of nauseating self-confidence and narcissism definitely don't bode well, but you still humbly do your duty, pulling on a smile and letting the guests into the VIP-room. Usually this room is rented by companies of influential people whose names are so well known to everyone that such guests don't even bother to introduce themselves, because you always know who they are, but these men… You're seeing them for the first time.

Anyway, a job is a job.

— Have a seat, dear guests. Would you like to see the bar menu?

Men in suits silently take their seats, and only an energetic blonde immediately responds to the sound of your voice, standing in front of the last empty chair.

— We'll order the same as usual,— the stranger says sweetly, spreading into a frighteningly sweet smile that sends chills down my spine.

— I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know…

— Oh, how could I forget! — the blond man clasps his hands in a gesture of apology. — Whiskey on the rocks.

His theatricality is a little annoying, but that's none of your business.

— As you wish, sir.

The female silhouette peeking out from behind the slightly open door and instantly disappearing after the blonde's words only made your task easier, allowing you not to even leave the room. It seems that this man is really very popular among girls, which, in principle, isn't surprising. A pretty face, a thick purse and a sugary voice, like a demeanor, are the pillars that support the classic image of a heartthrob in the eyes of any woman. It would be fascinating if you hadn't met such people before. This place is teeming with both men and women, sometimes even reasonably believing that the whole world belongs to them. Perhaps you would have bought into his charisma too, if you were as frivolous as a bar employee rushing into a room no more than five minutes after the order was placed.

— Thank you, dear. As always, you help out, otherwise my friends seem to be out of sorts today, — the blond man chuckles melodiously, looking at the other five guests. You can almost see in their stern looks the desire to strangle this talkative flatterer, and you can't help but chuckle to yourself.

— Anything for our beloved visitor! Have a nice game, — your friend blushes, smiling shyly before leaving the room, barely restraining a satisfied squeak.

You modestly clear your throat, drawing the attention of everyone at the table to yourself.

— Well, gentlemen, shall we begin?

You leave the button* in front of the blond man sitting first on your left hand. Early* is the most unfavorable position to start the game, but he should have known about it when he sat down here, or is it just an accident?

After the preflop*, while you were deftly shuffling the deck in your hands, someone had already started emptying their glass of whiskey, someone took out a pair of fragrant chocolate cigars. The blonde just watched carefully how skillfully you dealt the cards, not missing a single movement of your fingers. For a second, you even doubted that he didn't trust the new dealer, but every time you dared to look at him, his lips stretched into an even more sugary smile, and his eyes always found yours. Is he trying to get you into the same emotions as the silly waitresses? You wonder how soon he'll lose interest in your indifferent face?

The game went on quite calmly until three people remained at the table, including a smiling blond man.

— Ace of hearts, two of spades, jack of hearts, ten of clubs, two of hearts. The bets are made, you can open, — you say in a monotone voice, glancing at the cards on the table that turn over one by one.

«Street? Not bad…» — you stop looking at the blond's cards before you hear a thud on the table. After looking at the other hands it became clear that there is nothing on the table stronger than two pairs.

— Oh, don't get mad! We've just started, — the blond man raises his hands in an innocent gesture, chuckling softly, it seems, making the man opposite even angrier.

It seems that now you understand a little what the casino guards were so unhappy about, but the more games passed, the more sad the blonde's position became. The empty glasses were hastily replaced with newly filled ones with a new portion of whiskey, and the concentration of smoke in the small room became more and more suffocating, it seems, only exposing the undisguised glee of the men at the table, allowing themselves to mock the blonde, who was catastrophically unlucky today. A flush* against a royal flush, a pair against a square* and, in the end, his hand could only boast of the highest card*. What a disappointment.

— Here, order yourself one more whiskey, — one of the departing men casually tossed a couple of chips in front of the blond man sprawled on a chair, grinning hoarsely before staggering slightly out of the room after the other four, whose loud voices disappeared into the noise of the casino outside the door.

— Sure, — the man who remained at the table smiled gently at the departing acquaintance before taking a sip from his glass.

You wanted to say something, maybe even encourage him, but it's not your way to mind your own business, so you just silently gathered the cards from the table, about to ask the guest to leave the room, when suddenly he spoke first.

— That's not what you expected, is it? — you turn to the blond man, who is resting his head on his own palm. The same strange smile is still playing on his lips, even despite how much money he left at this institution today. He's really weird.

— I don't know what you mean. I don't know how you play, so I couldn't even try to predict the outcome of the game.

— Come on. You know how I play. That girl from the bar told you about me, didn't she?

Annoy.

— Even so, I'm not used to trust rumors, — you reply indifferently, carefully putting the cards back in the box.

— In that case, now you can conclude that I'm a lousy player? Oh, that would be unfortunate, because everyone has unlucky days.

— I don't think it's about luck, — you wanted to say that someone should just drink less and make less risky bets, but you restrained yourself, maintaining professionalism.

— Ho-oh? Then what is it? — the blond man perked up even more, waiting curiously for your answer.

— It is not appropriate for me to give advice to visitors, because my earnings, among other things, depend on them.

— That's how it is! So I was wrong when I decided that you weren't like the other girls looking at my wallet?

— It turns out that it is. But I'm looking at the wallets of every potentially profitable player for me, — you shrug your shoulders. — And now, if you'll excuse me, you should leave the room, since the game is over.

— How pragmatic, you remind me of someone I know, — the blond man, as if he hadn't heard your last words, gets up from his chair, coming closer. — So you don't believe in luck, huh?

The man leans slightly forward, looking into your eyes from under the half-lowered glasses on the bridge of his nose. The expensive sweet fragrance of the perfume instantly cuts into your nostrils, and you take a small step back.

— It's absurdly to rely only on luck in poker. That's all I wanted to say.

— Hm-m … — the blond man pretends to think. — You're right. Then what about roulette?

— Even roulette has its own patterns, but if we don't go into details, of course, this game revolves exclusively around chance.

— Great! Then can we play? — the man turns towards the roulette table, which has apparently not been used for a long time, in the corner of the room.

— I'm afraid my shift is already over… — you frown, even before you finish, he interrupts you.

— Oh, I was so catastrophically unlucky today that I just want to win back at least another game, otherwise I won't be able to sleep peacefully tonight… Are you really that heartless?

— You can use the services of a croupier and play roulette in the hall.

— It would be sad, because I already liked you, — the blonde smiles, looking into your eyes again.

— If you're trying to flirt with me like that, then I'm in a hurry to upset you — it won't work, — you reply irritably, about to leave, when suddenly a weak grip on your wrist stops you.

— I'm sad to hear that, but what if I make a bet?

You turn around, batting your eyelashes in puzzlement when you meet the sharp gaze of a man's violet-blue eyes.

— You can't play roulette without betting, what's the point of all this?

— Let's say… if my bet plays out, you owe me a kiss, what do you say?

You almost boil with anger, looking at this personification of self-confidence standing in front of you.

— I'm not going to play your games, let go of my hand.

The attempt to pull back your hand was unsuccessful, on the contrary, only forcing the blond to pull you closer.

— It seems that luck isn't on my side today, so if I lose, I'll just leave.

The desire to just slap him in the face is almost impossible to ignore, but you wouldn't be working here if you weren't a gambling person too. Your lips stretch into an arrogant smile as you approach the blond man's face, slightly squinting your eyes.

— In that case, on what number* will you put it on?

The blond man's eyebrows rise, after which a ringing laugh is heard in the room.

— I knew you could entertain me! — the man lets go of your hand, but does not take a step away from you before saying softly. — I'm betting on zero.

«He's crazy!»

You almost laughed at how crazy his bet turned out to be, but it sounds like he's already agreed to leave you alone, so you just smiled, silently retreating to the corner of the dimly lit room. The table has indeed not been used for a long time, having already become covered with a layer of dust, but you take a small ball, gently rolling it in your hand before turning towards the blond man who remains standing at the poker table. He doesn't seem to care at all that he's going to lose now, and the smile doesn't leave his face for a second. It will be all the sweeter to see how the expression on his face will change when he loses.

— Your bet is accepted, — you say loudly before spinning the roulette wheel by throwing a ball at it.

The man doesn't even look at the spinning roulette wheel, instead watching your eyes follow the ball as it slides across the sectors.

12, 35, 3, 26, and finally….

— It can't be… — you whisper, eyes wide open and just looking at how the ball stopped at zero.

— Ho-oh? What's is it? Judging by your reaction, did I win? — the blond man grins, slowly removing his hat from his head and leaving the hat on the edge of the poker table.

This can't be happening. Betting on numbers is always a huge risk, because the chance that the ball will stop at the chosen one is incredibly small. Was he… really just lucky?

You purse your lips, summoning all the self-control you have to turn to the man with an indifferent expression on your face.

— That's right, congratulations on winning, sir.

— M-m… it's not just a win, you remember the conditions, right? — the blond man says playfully, slowly walking towards you, until finally he towers over you, elegantly ripping the glasses off his face.

«This jerk has probably been rehearsing this for years…»

— I didn't have to accept such bets at all, — you mutter irritably.

— I understand your disappointment, but still, you accepted it. Be kind enough to hand me my prize, — you look into the extraordinarily beautiful eyes of a man, trying your best to deny how really attractive he looks without glasses and a hat.

— Ahem… okay. But can I at least get your name? I wouldn't want to kiss a complete stranger.

— Huh? So you don't know who I am? How cute, — the blond man squints, breaking into a smile. — You can call me Aventurine. And you… — the man hooks the badge on your chest with the tip of his finger. — Y/N.

Where have all your old composure gone? They probably got lost somewhere in the midst of this madness, which for some reason you signed up for, following your own excitement. Self-confidence is just as much your enemy as Aventurine, only in this case he is elated with victory, and you are trying to collect your thoughts in order to fulfill the conditions of the game he started.

— Excuse me… — you mumble awkwardly before pressing your lips to the man's cheek, leaving as quick a kiss as possible to hastily turn away, hiding the blush that has appeared on your face.

— Hey! And what was that? — Aventurine says in disappointment, touching the place of your kiss with the tips of his black-gloved fingers.

— You asked for a kiss, but didn't specify which one, — you try to sound confident, but still mentally berate yourself for not being able to look into his eyes right now.

— Oh… — the blond man sighs heavily, pulling away and approaching the roulette table. — I'm not satisfied with such a victory. Let's do it again.

— Huh?! — you cry out indignantly, looking at the back of the impudent man rolling the ball around the zero sector. — I shouldn't be here at all, and neither should you!

— I'm betting on zero again.

You freeze, raising an eyebrow when you turn to Aventurine.

— You're going to lose.

— Maybe, — the man shrugs, turning to face you and leaning on the edge of the table. — But if the bet plays out again, you'll give me a real long kiss.

— I'm not going to waste my time on this madness. The chances of hitting zero a second time are so small that it's easier for you to just leave this room right now, since it's simply impossible to play this bet.

— Let it be so. You don't lose anything if you're so sure of my defeat, do you? Besides, didn't you say that you don't give advice to the players?

It annoys you how logical his words sound. But what's even more annoying is that you really doubt it. It's just not possible. You have to show this arrogant idiot his place.

— Okay, — and here you go back to the roulette table again. — But if you lose, you will never return to this casino again.

Aventurine's purple eyes widen before flashing a gambling spark.

— And you know how to make the game more interesting, — the man grins, picking up the ball from the table, carefully leaving it in your hand. — I agree.

This will be the craziest bet anyone has ever made in the entire existence of this casino. And it only fuels your interest too. You spin the wheel in anticipation by throwing the ball. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as if your own life is at stake. It's been a long time since you've experienced such adrenaline, no matter how absurd what's happening, because it's worth it to win…

— Ha-ha! It seems that today is really my day, — Aventurine grins as the ball slowly rolls and stops at sector zero. Again. — The money I lost in poker was worth spending all my luck on such a tempting prize.

Impossible. He just did the impossible. What were the chances? The mind is so devastated by shock that you can't even approximate the probability, just silently looking at the green sector in amazement.

— You're not… cheating, are you? — you're almost whispering, without opening your eyes from the little ball.

— What cruel accusations! How, tell me, could I cheat at roulette? — the man clicks his tongue in frustration, slowly wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling your body towards his. — If these are just assumptions without any evidence, I think it's time to start awarding the second prize.

The lips open, releasing a soft sigh into the air. You feel the warmth emanating from his body, the smell that his nauseatingly expensive clothes exude, and you feel his measured breathing on the skin of your face when Aventurine bends down, almost touching his lips to yours and freezes.

— I'll make it easier for you this time, — the blond whispers, letting his warm breath caress the delicate skin of your lips.

— What do you mean?.. — the only thing you managed to say right before Aventurine's lips covered yours.

Long fingers dive into your hair, forcing you to tilt your head back, and he deepens the kiss, insistently making his way with his tongue through your lips, which are not too resisting. A soft moan dissolves in Aventurine's mouth, and your fingers desperately cling to the fabric of the shirt on the man's chest, but still you respond to the kiss, allowing your tongue to stick out a little further, slowly waltzing in tandem with his. The shock was instantly replaced by a mixture of embarrassment and a flutter in his chest. It seemed that this kiss lasted forever, so harmonious, gentle, but passionate, as if you have known each other for so long that Aventurine doesn't need much effort to make you melt in his hands, which you allow to touch your body.

Lips gasp for air as soon as Aventurine pulls away, looking at your flushed, relaxed face, which isn't touched by the former cold indifference with which you looked at him all evening.

It's a strange feeling. From the very beginning, when you saw this man, the only thought that you would never in your life become infatuated with just his presence somewhere nearby was ingrained in your head, now fighting for supremacy with the unwillingness that he would let you go. You shouldn't give in to this.

You gently press on Aventurine's chest, shuddering as soon as you feel his warm skin under your fingertips, noticing that you touched this very seductive neckline.

— Is that all? I have to go… — you say softly, trying to get out of Aventurine's hands, but he's not even going to let go of your waist or your cheek, to which his palm is still pressed.

— Really? Well, then I won't hold you back, — the blond man grins, still continuing to prevent your imaginary escape.

— Then let me go. I gave away your winnings and I don't owe you anything else.

— Yes, you did, — the man whispers, gently stroking your cheek with a thumb in a leather glove.

You look at each other without saying a word and freeze like statues. The muffled sounds of slot machines, clinking glasses and laughter come from the hall outside the door, breaking the silence that hangs between the two of you, but you can't hear anything else except your own rapid heartbeat throbbing in your ears. A strange warmth spreads in your chest, gradually sinking down, and a heavy weakness settles in your legs, which doesn't allow you to move from your place.

«What are you doing, Y/N?», — you ask yourself one last time before you swear unintelligibly under your breath, grabbing Aventurine's shirt in order to involve the man in the kiss again. Greedy, careless, but you needed it. The blonde's palm shamelessly moves to your buttocks, covered with black trousers, gently squeezing the elastic flesh, and your fingers slowly slip under the neckline in the shape of an inverted heart, caressing the heated skin of Aventurine's chest.

— W-wait… — you suddenly break off the kiss, breathing heavily and looking at the purple irises covered with long eyelashes.

— What's is it? I won't complain that the dealer is harassing me if you're worried about it, — Aventurine grins, forcing the expression on your face to change to the old irritation.

— This is wrong. I don't have to…

— I don't care about the rules, — the man tilts his head to one side, smiling playfully. — I'm betting on black.

— What? — you ask discouraged, watching the man's fingers hastily undoing the buttons of your white shirt.

— If I win, now you'll be my prize, — Aventurine winks at you before opening the cotton fabric on your chest, noticing you are wearing a black lace bra. — Tsk-tsk, how unlucky you are today. I won again.

✧ ✧ ✧

The button is a special chip marked "D", transmitted clockwise and identifying the dealer (in this case, the dealer is an employee of the casino, so the button only determines who will bet first).

The early position is the player's place at the poker table, located immediately behind the dealer.

Preflop is the initial stage of the poker game, which includes the distribution of cards and the first bets, including blinds.

A straight is a combination of a sequence of five cards.

A hand is a combination of two cards in the player's hands.

A flash combination of five cards of the same suit.

Royal flush is the strongest combination of cards from 10 to ace of the same suit.

A pair is a combination of two cards of the same value (for example, two aces).

A square is a combination of five cards of the same value (for example, four aces).

The highest card is the card of the highest value of all lying on the table.

In roulette, it is possible to bet on one color, on even and odd numbers, and so on, including you can bet on a specific number, which is quite risky due to the reduced chances that such a bet will play, but the winnings from it are multiplied by 35.

[saberlight1]

nurturing — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, death, trauma, sickness, established relationship, reader is also a gunslinger, Y/N usage, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: yes i love this man so bad. him in billy the kid deadass altered my brain chemistry lmao. this fic is based off of this request— please, continue to send me your ideas and whatnot, i love reading them! i hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

When you woke up, that unusual ringing in your ears, that pounding in your head, and the scratchiness of your throat— you knew you had fallen ill. One of the boys in the gang, or hell, maybe even someone you had came across had given you something— you didn’t really want to know.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you pulled the covers closer to you, attempting to sleep away the sickness. You didn’t want to get up to go to the doctors nor did you have enough money to even pay one. So you did what you do best— ignoring the problem completely.

You fell back asleep easily, sleeping the day and night away completely. When your eyes first fluttered open due to the sunlight intruding on your slumber, you thought you were free from the confines of your illness, but you were mistaken.

The second you sat up, all symptoms that were now arguably worse returned within an instant, causing you to get dizzy. You crashed back down instantly, a whine leaving your lips. Your muscles ached from staying in bed all day, and you wanted a damn drink— a real one. And you wanted to see your cowboy.. so bad. But with the pounding in your head feeling just as powerful as your heartbeat, the thought of even moving made you want to throw up.

And it did— you wanted to cry as you were forced to rush to the trash can in the corner. After 5 minutes of throwing up, your stomach finally relented. You carried yourself back over to your bed, the exhaustion taking over once again.

Hours later, a soft yet powerful knock on your door woke you up with a jump. Your eyebrows knitted as you heard the knocks only get louder. Now alert and awake, you slowly reached for your gun-belt that was neatly rested on your bedside table, grabbing your loaded pistol and cocking it. You used the pistol to slightly lift up the curtain to your window— it was raining, and it was night.

No one good could be paying you a visit at this hour.

You crept over to the door, the knocks only increasing in volume. You slowly turned the handle, your gun tightly in your grip— finger ghosting over the trigger. Adrenaline and anxiety coursed through your veins, you didn’t even feel sick anymore.

The door creaked open, and you pointed the pistol at whoever was out there before you revealed your form.

“Jesus, lady.” Billy’s soft laugh hit your ears, making you lower the gun instantly, placing it on the table by the door. “Stayin’ ready, huh?”

A heavy sigh of relief left your lips as you silently walked into his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as your headache began to form again. His arms wrapped around you quickly, the tip of his hat hitting your head when he leaned down to leave a kiss on your hair.

“You alright, honey?” He whispered, still holding you. “Been wonderin’ where you were. Supposed to meet me at the stables earlier.”

You sighed, completely forgetting your plans with the man. “I’m sorry, Billy,” Your hoarse voice whispered. “I’m sick, I been asleep all day.”

His eyebrows knitted together in concern immediately, as he pushed you off his shoulder to cradle your face in his hands gently. “How bad is it?”

“Just feel like shit,” You chuckled, sending a smile to his face. “I’m okay, Billy.”

His eyes clouded with worry. “C’mon, let’s get you in— away from this storm before it gets you sicker.” He ushered you in. “You seen a doctor yet?” He asked.

“Nah, I didn’t think it would get worse, plus it’s not like I got the money to pay one. Tried to sleep it off, I felt too bad yesterday to get out of bed at all.” You responded as you went to lay down. He tucked your gun back into its holster, before he went to refill your water.

He came back a moment later, a glass of water and a wet rag in hand.

“Thank you,” You whispered as you took a sip, as he placed the wet rag on the back of your neck.

He hummed back to you, laying down next you once you put the water aside, bringing you into his arms.

“You gotta tell me when you’re sick, darlin’.” He whispered to you in the moon lit room. “Can’t loose you to somethin’ like that. Happened to me too many times.”

“I’m sorry, Billy.. I— I don’t mean to worry you.” You said, looking up at him.

“You don’t gotta apologize, baby, just tell me next time so I can come take care of you, y’know?” He smiled, a lovey smile on his lips as he bent down to leave a kiss on your nose. “What can of man would I be if I left my lady to lay sick alone?” He pinched your side slightly, a giggle escaping your lips.

“I reckon you’d be a regular ole’ cowboy.” You joked.

“Well, luckily for you, I happen to be an outlaw.” He chuckled as he leaned down to kiss you— but your finger pressed into his lips stopped him. He looked at you, offended.

“I don’t want to get you sick,” You told him, your smile now more teasing.

“I don’t give a damn about some cold, baby.” He pushed your hand out the way, pressing his lips against yours in an instant, the man kissing you passionately— as if you possessed the air he so very needed. He pulled back, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. “Haven’t seen you in days, missed the feelin’ of your lips.” He muttered against your lips before connecting them again, his words sending shivers down your spine, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You felt comfort in the fact that you’d always have your outlaw to be there to make you feel better, no matter what.

[cno-inbminor]

repertum (pt. 2 - final)

summary: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise. // cameos from lumine and nahida // wc: ~15.1k

a/n: well, here it is! many, many thanks to @allsaiint for being my beta once again, especially for this monster. i love her to the ends of this universe. fair warning though, the smut at the end is un-beta’d so you’ll probably come across many grammatical/syntax errors. sorry, in advance. 

cw: afab!reader, fem!reader, more angst (but with comfort), 3.4 spoilers, probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags: derogatory/degrading terms (slut, cocksleeve, cumslut, cockslut), referring to alhaitham as ‘sir’, size kink, twinges of dacryphilia, one (1) pussy slap, some overstimulation, light bondage (reader’s wrists get tied together), blowjob, cunnilingus, hints of reader entering subspace (dom!alhaitham, sub!reader), will add more if i remember later but i think those are the highlights lol

please read part 1 for context! | AO3 Link for better viewing if the app is being a bitch

-    

As agreed upon you meet Lumine and Paimon on the walkway leading up to the Sanctuary. The traveling duo go inside first, as you’re sure they have much more private and serious matters to discuss. While you wait outside, you gaze over the ledge at the breathtaking view of Sumeru in the direction of the Lokapala Jungle, and its waterfalls still bright even in the darkness of dawn. Taking in everything around you— the breeze and the stars— you feel some peace in your heart knowing you have a place to call home and return to.

The doors swing open with Lumine looking a little less happy than earlier. Paimon mutters – or  at least attempts to – under her breath, while a man with a wide-brimmed hat trails out after them. The traveler provides no explanation,and instead informs you that Lord Kusanali wishes to speak with you for a minute. Perhaps the time together will let you know more about this mysterious man – child? – and why he seems to have put Paimon in such a bad mood.

“Y/N,” the Dendro Archon greets you warmly. Her voice is gentle as ever and full of compassion. “Thank you for coming here. I simply wanted to see if you had everything you needed for your travels and research.”

You show her your bag with thinly-veiled enthusiasm. “Thank you for the opportunity and your consideration of my proposal. The fact that you took the time to read through it and ask me about it really means a lot to me. It was luck that the traveler happened to be heading in that direction as well.”

“She will be a good companion. Please watch over her whenever you can.”

“Of course, though I imagine she’s going to watch over me more than her,” you jest and Lord Kusanali shares your amusement. “Is there anything else you needed?”

“No. May you have safe travels, and please visit whenever you return. I look forward to your findings.”

You bow with as much reverence as possible before waving goodbye to the Archon and heading out the doors. The man from earlier is nowhere to be seen, and Lumine appears more relaxed.

“Everything all good?”

“Yes! Should we head out then?”

“Very well.”

Those with Visions have always fascinated you with the way they could make their weapons appear and disappear, and materialize things in midair. Lumine does so with what appears to be a map of Teyvat, humming to herself as she pinpoints a location. She waves it away with dainty fingers and holds out her hand.

Though confused, you trust she means no ill will and Lumine grips your hand tight when you take hers.

“Teleportation is always a little rough for first timers. Just hold on and you’ll be okay.”

“Teleporta–”

You disappear in a flash of blue light. For a split, disorienting second, you see nothing, and in the next you’re greeted with a view of what appears to be part of the Mawtiyima Forest, if the luminescent treetops are any indication. Slight nausea overcomes you and your stomach does a small turn – shit, she wasn’t lying.

“Are you alright?” Lumine asks with concern, searching through her pack for a remedy..

“Do you want a cold towel?” Paimon adds on and flutters around you to search for any signs of injury.

“I think I just need to breathe for a second,” you say, collapsing against the cliffside. “And sit for a minute.”

“Take your time. We’re quite close to the border. I would’ve taken us straight into Fontaine, but since I’ve never been before, none of those teleport waypoints have been activated.”

You point towards one in front of you. “You mean these?”

“Convenient, right?”

“...very.”

-

Distraught, perhaps, is one way to describe Alhaitham’s current state of mind.

By all means, it makes no sense. Did he get to know you well in an alarmingly short amount of time? Sure. Did he really look forward to those initial 36 hours passing, to the point where he felt time was crawling by at a turtle’s pace? Perhaps. Was he trying to satiate a curiosity that he had never really felt before and attempting to answer a personal unknown? In some way.

The attempting-to-resign Acting Grand Sage has read his fair share of historical texts – especially conflicts driven by love and lust. A force so powerful that it could twist the minds of even the brightest and most logical – what was that like? From a young age, he was only ever introspective in an academic sense, and the scholars touted him to be a genius. But feelings, emotions, felt abstract and out of reach as he grew up. He only ever understood his lust as a byproduct of his development as explained in the textbooks. A branch of psychology mixed with biology described everything from why humans feel attraction and the need to copulate to what is deemed healthy and alluring in a potential partner, all in the name of posterity and evolution.

Alhaitham first concluded his initial draw towards you could be explained away by all of these findings.It didn’t quite fit all the checkboxes, but enough for him to deem it understandable and valid. Those checkboxes had been visited once before when he lost his virginity, but that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t be blind enough to deny that it was a pleasurable experience, but there were other, more pressing matters at hand. Yet, even after drawing his conclusion, nothing academic could help explain why his desire to be near you was so strong. The more carnal desires took a backseat to his need to pick your brain, to make you laugh, or to have you challenge him. He learned as many of your little mannerisms as possible, all the while pretending he was completely unfazed by your presence. Your different smiles, your nervous movements, your stressed looks, your interests and dislikes – he wanted to know all of them, and not so he could store it in his brain for cautionary purposes. It was all for the sake of getting to know you.

And then he became greedy.

Another sin Alhaitham didn’t quite understand before meeting you was the growing, bubbling pit of a constant want want want for you to be by his side. To have the fantasies of coveting your soul, retching on the inside at the mere thought of others seeing you the way he did you – he was starting to see why individuals were so often thrown into a fit of rage over their loved ones and why the law has separate stipulations regarding “crimes of passion.”

And even as he sits at his usual table in his usual seat (especially on days when he really doesn’t want to be in his office during work hours), sending glares to anyone who dared to approach him or even come near your seat (which was very much not your seat by any legal means), he finds himself buried in books of philosophy. Not that they are so far out of his usual reading, for they typically align with his understanding that there are universal questions that will never be answered yet should be stated, but he has never felt the need to dive deeper than the tip of the iceberg on different schools of thought. One line in particular catches his attention, however.

“Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions.”**

Moral philosophy, the area where this statement hails from, was intriguing, yet Alhaitham knew the respected experts could talk in circles for days and do their best to argue their reasoning. This particular philosopher suggests that passion is the cause for reason, for understanding why humans do the things they do. And as the word connotation suggests, there is no room to discuss whether or not this line of thought is rational. Just as passion drives reason, reason can also serve as the breeding ground for the passions.

Abstruse to several, esoteric to many, ambiguous to the masses – Alhaitham wonders if he’s found some sort of solution to his internal dilemmas. To have it all summed up in a single sentence resonates deeply with him. Simple and succinct, yet speaking volumes to the implications; finally with a deep breath.

The next day in his office, he leans and falls back into his seat, gaze focused on the domed ceiling above. He’s always hated this chair; far too grand and impractically large. One thing he doesn’t mind is the proportionate size of the desk, as he’s learned over the years that if you give him the space, he will inadvertently cover every inch of it with his materials. Even with their dwindling number of research applications, he manages to fill the voids with his own research, books laid open and aged parchment collecting dust. For being so far above the ground level of the House of Daena, it makes sense that silence is usually his sole companion, as he tends to ignore the other researchers and matra milling around. But there must have been some memo sent out because no one is there today, and no one has come up in hours.

Surprisingly, he finds the quietude and quiescence unnerving rather than welcoming, so much so he removes his treasured earpieces and places them in his lap. The white noise he’s often found bothersome is… comforting?

A distraction, perhaps, from the absence of you.

A long, heavy sigh leaves his chest as he pulls himself up and ambles over to a locked filing cabinet with all the approved research project applications. Before he became Acting Grand Sage, the remaining applications had been split between him, Lord Kusanali, and a few other individuals. First sorted by subject area and then by last name, he rifles through with an absent mind until he catches your name on a tabbed folder. Alhaitham wastes no time plucking it from the confines of the drawer and opening it, taking care to make sure the stacks of reports and research diagrams don’t spill out onto the floor. Kaveh would have a field day if he knew just how enraptured he was by the mere sight of your handwriting. He may even take him to Lord Kusanali herself for psychological treatment or interrogation because there was no way this Alhaitham was his same sarcastic, scathing, infuriating roommate – and despite the slight amusement the thought gives him, he cannot ignore the painful pull in his chest.

It’s been five weeks since you were last seen in Sumeru, and five weeks since he had knocked on your apartment door only to be greeted by your next-door neighbor, who announced you’d left early in the morning with no definitive time of return and no mention of your destination. You would be back eventually, but would it be in six days or six months? Nobody seemed to be the wiser.

He had had half a mind to reach out to Cyno and call in a special favor to track you down for his own internal peace, but he knew the request would be irrational and unnecessary. So once a week, he stops by your apartment to see if you’ve returned, and with each unsuccessful visit and your doormat collecting more and more dust, his heart sinks just a little bit lower. If he wasn’t in his current position, he’d be halfway across the desert by now (and ultimately in the complete opposite direction) under the guise of searching for ancient ruins. Merely searching for facts and truth; nothing more, nothing less.

All to say, Alhaitham wishes he had looked through this filing drawer earlier because the file on his desk contained all the answers to his questions of your whereabouts.

The relief of knowing you were safe in a nearby nation surges through every vein in his body, tension in his muscles disappearing with the rays of sunlight beating down from the stained-glass window above. He would’ve been much more concerned if you’d gone to Inazuma – even if this Captain Beidou that Lumine spoke highly of was more than adept at crossing the treacherous seas from Liyue, the mere possibility of you falling overboard or being forced to stay in the nation was still unsettling, to say the least.

Leaning his weight onto the desk, Alhaitham drinks in everything your research has to offer. There are a few mistakes and edits that could be rectified here and there, but nevertheless, it is well done. He remembers now seeing some of these papers before, as notes you had been scribbling down on some early afternoons in the cafe. Pleased isn’t enough to describe the hum in his chest when he notices some of his suggestions incorporated into your application, fondly recalling the moments when you had picked each other’s brain regarding the topic at hand. Never once did you mention that any of this had been in preparation for your big research journey, but he would be remiss not to believe recent events had served as the catalyst for your sudden departure.

“Do come back to me,” he murmurs to no one. As he lifts his head, the cosmical, automated orb— reminiscent of an Auspicious Branch— just above the elevator platform seems to mock him. It’s An inaccurate teller of time as it spins and spins in its orbit, and Alhaitham yearns for the day you return home.--

The day you return to him.

-

Traveling with Lumine is fascinating, to say the least.

Ignoring the fact that feeding Paimon is like feeding three grown adults, watching the Traveler gather and store every fruit and herb and loot in sight makes you wonder what kind of life she had led before all of this. The way she takes down some wayward Treasure Hoarders is a sight to see, like a well-rehearsed dance. It lends to your understanding of why the term is “martial arts” because the way Lumine maneuvers around the enemies and her sword is, very much so, an art.

But more time together means more time into probing the real reason you’ve decided to come to Fontaine with her, and for whatever reason, she is really good at getting you to spill the beans. Lumine’s heard most of your life story at this point.

“Who are you running from?” she asks one night. After checking in with the Adventurer’s Guild in Fontaine’s capital, you’ve joined Lumine in her journey around the nation to activate the rest of the teleport waypoints. You send her your sheepest look, begging with your eyes for her to not ask anymore. But you’ve skirted around this topic the last few weeks and you figure it’s time for her to know.

With a heavy breath, you set down your bowl of biryani on the grass. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“Promise.”

“...it’s Alhaitham.” The crackling of the little campfire Lumine had put together is deafening, even louder than the ripples and waves of the river crashing onto the sand in front of them.

Naturally, Paimon speaks up first, though speaking is an understatement.  “Alhaitham?! You mean that– that super mean Acting Grand Sage? The know-it-all? Can’t really care less about others? Condescending?”

“That’s a pretty big word there, Paimon–” Lumine cuts in.

“Hey!”  

“See?” you respond, the smile on your face small, awkward, and bittersweet. “Things happened and well… I thought it’d be better if we stopped seeing each other.”

“You were seeing each other?!!”

“Paimon, stop!” Lumine interjects and shoots the floating fairy a disapproving glare.

You really wish you had some alcohol with you right now.

“Well…”

For the next several minutes, you provide a detailed summary of how you came to meet and learn more about Alhaitham, the nature of the budding relationship, how all your insecurities came to a head on that night, and how you ended up here. Lumine remains silent when you finish explaining everything, clearly thinking through all the information and trying to find the right words to say.

“You know,” she begins, “Alhaitham may be one of the most infuriatingly logical men that I’ve ever met. And a really good actor, too. Remind me to tell you the details of what he did when we rescued Nahida.”

“...I don’t think that makes me feel any better.”

“I’m just saying, but I also think you know by now that Alhaitham isn’t someone who does anything that isn’t for his own benefit, in some way.”

“Again, not helping.”

“What I’m trying to say is if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I’m sure there are plenty of other people who would agree to help out in much less time.”

To which, Lumine has a point. A very good point. But still you say, “He’s super picky though, I don’t think he’d just sleep with anyone regardless.”

“Which brings me to my original point: he picked you for a reason.”

“Because I’m easy?”

Lumine flicks your forehead before you can even blink, and with a decent amount of force as well. Your resulting indignant yelp pierces the atmosphere as you rub the sore spot. “What was that for?!”

“For being unreasonable. I’m trying to say that you must be special to him, that’s all.”

“... but what if he didn’t want to see me again after sleeping together? Sure, let’s say that I am ‘special’, heavy emphasis on my air quotes right now, but I want more, an actual relationship. How do I know that’s also what his end goal is?”  

“You don’t,” Lumine affirms. “But there’s no use in wading through the what-ifs. You know what you want, and I think you’re allowed to communicate that to him, regardless of what he says.”

It’s hard to come to terms with the underlying implication that you’re being something of a coward, with not a whole lot of reason to be. You’re grateful for the open water before you, its lullaby comforting with the breeze it brings. Years of academic research have made you painfully familiar with the concept of trial and error, but to apply it to human relationships? It leaves much to be undesired. Five weeks, in the grand scheme of things, are certainly nothing more than a miniscule blip of time. But in your limited life with the overhanging unknowns of the world, it was a sizable enough amount of time filled with passive rumination and downward spirals.

“You’ll figure it out when you get there. But I’m warning you, we’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

You can’t help but laugh in relief. “That is completely okay, I promise you.”

Running away might as well be your newly developed skill at this point.

-

A few weeks later

“I mean, I could stay with you there in Fontaine, right? You know, extra set of hands and all?”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“Lumiiinneee,” you whine, petulant pout making itself known.

“Just talk to him – whatever happens, happens. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. But you owe it to yourself to say your piece, as well as to him for an explanation that he needs to hear. Now go.”

She all but (gently) shoves you into the Akademiya, watching over you with an encouraging wave of her hand. When you’re less than five steps away from the door into the House of Daena, you look over your shoulder once more for any signs of escape. As expected, the Lumine-shaped obstacle stands firm in her spot.

You clutch your final report to your chest, mind racing with a thousand thoughts per second, and don’t even realize you’ve already made it to the elevator platform. And once it gives a mechanical shudder and starts to go up, you want to scream and simultaneously steal a glider to jump off and land safely back on the ground level.

Is it good or bad luck that no one seems to be around? Maybe he won’t be at his desk and you can just leave the report there and fucking bolt. Maybe it’s not even Alhaitham in the Grand Sage’s chair. Maybe the man is gone altogether and is somewhere in the desert looking at ancient runes.

Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore and has forgotten about you. Maybe he told himself to let bygones be bygones, and that you were simply another scholar in the Akademiya. No one special.

Your initial hopes of his coincidental absence are dashed as you walk up the stairs. His silver hair stands out among the sea of azure and viridian, and he doesn’t even bother to look up from the stack of papers in his hand. Not that you were a bull in a china shop by any means, but the man would even notice with his eyes closed if there was a fly on the complete opposite side of the office. Your heart is ready to burst from your chest with each shaky step, and too soon, you stand in front of his sprawling desk.

“My office hours will be ending in a few minutes,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone without looking at you. You risk a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice, an all too familiar mix of gentility and sternness. “If it’s something that requires more than that length of time, come back tomorrow.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck – “I’m just, um, turning in a research report?”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham doesn’t even bother to amuse himself. He’d much rather not look and not be disappointed, than to do so and become reacquainted with dashed hopes. “...And the necessary cover sheet is on top? Does it have your name, project number, and corresponding title?”

“Y-Yes.”

Still perusing through the paperwork in his hands, he frees one hand to point it at a basket on his far-right corner. “Leave it there. Your advisors and I will be reviewing it within the next two weeks.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

You do as instructed, but with each second that passes without any eye contact or direct acknowledgement of your presence, you begin to wonder if he’s purposely ignoring you. Or maybe he forgot about you entirely and wrote you off as a failed pursuit. Perhaps that would be the best-case scenario and you could hole up in your apartment for the rest of… eternity. Maybe. Lumine can come and scold you later and you can take it like a champ.

But your heart, ever so fickle and occasionally diabolical, plays one last card and causes you to stop at the top of the stairs. “Have a good night,” you muster out. “Thank you, Alhaitham.”

The rustling of his papers ceases as you turn and hurry down the steps, taking extra care to not trip over your feet. Just before you can activate the elevator, a frazzled “Y/N?” is called from above. With sweaty hands, a sullen heart, and a leadened brain, you nervously orient towards the scholar inhabiting your dreams, who stands on the edge of the platform above and peers down to confirm his suspicion. His stance looks as if he had leapt over his desk and sprinted at top speed towards you.

You’re not sure how to take it all in, how to take him in – the “feeble scholar”, for once, appears as such. If possible, his cheeks seem a little more sunken in, further accentuating the sharp edges of his jawline. His hair looks mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it several times too many. The cloak around his shoulders rests askew from his sudden movements.

But his eyes—

Those seafoam irises and amber pupils pierce through your soul, but not in an inquisitive and calculating manner. In fact, it’s quite the opposite – he looks unsure, disbelieving, and hesitant. To elicit such a reaction from this man should be recorded in the most prominent historical annals, but you do have to admit it’s a bad look on him.

When you open your mouth to say something, anything, the elevator begins its descent. Any words you had are wiped from your mind, and you do everything you can to maintain this staredown. Weeks ago, you couldn’t even begin to guess what this man would be feeling based on his eyes, but now? His heart is on his sleeve, and you can’t help the green envy in your veins at the possibility that others have seen him in such a vulnerable state.The constant battle between an illusional desire to be his everything and knowing that you never could and never should be, rages on.

You’re the first to look away. Sorry, Lumine, you think, as Alhaitham’s figure disappears from view. All you’re left with is the rotating orb above, spinning and spinning until it makes you sick to your stomach. You just want to get back to your apartment and start sweeping the dirt away, to return to some sense of normalcy before all of… this appeared. You never should’ve indulged in your whimsical desires.

-

Alhaitham hovers in a state of shock as he watches the elevator take you back down – after weeks of catching a glimpse of who he thinks is you at the cafe, hearing your voice in his head as he scribbles away on paperwork, or dreaming of escaping his duties to find you in Fontaine, he’s not sure if he really believes you were here or if it was some effective lucid dreaming. But the sudden pull, the impulsive need to just check the cover sheet when his name left your lips, was far too strong and he had dived right in without a second thought.

And there in your handwriting, in all its glory, was your name printed neatly at the bottom. One second, he was at his desk and the next, he was at the edge of the outer office ring for confirmation.

The last few minutes of his workday have never gone slower as he paces back and forth in front of his desk. He’s doing his best to stay calm and formulate a plan, but even that has become difficult for him. There are too many extraneous factors at play, several he can’t be sure of – did you meet someone new in Fontaine? Were you going to leave again?

Did you even want to see him?

You could’ve left without another word once your research paper landed in that return basket. He would’ve been none the wiser until he physically picked up the report, which probably wouldn’t have happened for another few days, what with all the cleaning up he’s trying to do before his resignation is official. All that lost time in between would have left him even more distraught.

But the fact that you had stopped and made a point to thank him, to call him out by name, means something. Like him, it seems you are just as unsure of where the two of you stand.

And that’s all he needs to move forward.

-

Granted, moving forward didn’t initially involve climbing up the fire escape ladder behind your apartment building.

With a takeout bag of your favorite foods from Lambad’s Tavern, he was originally going to knock on your front door like any other individual. But before his knuckles could rap against the Adhigama wood, he thought, why not check to see if you’re even home? That would eliminate the possibility of you seeing him through the peephole and then pretending you’re not home – or worse, you opening it and then slamming it back in his face.

His unparalleled logic led him to skip the ladder and jump onto the first floor. It’s not that he wouldn’t be able to climb it with one free hand – the food would’ve gotten messy with all the jostling around. He ignores the sound of laughing children as he ambles past, but allows the semblance of a grin to dawn his face when he hears, “Whoa, look at that mister!” Alhaitham looks above him as he climbs the next set of stairs, noticing a light peeking through the living room window. That’s one good sign, at least, because it means you’re home, right? He peers past the half-open curtains when he arrives at your floor. He’s just checking. Nothing suspicious or untoward. Yet all of that is scrapped— another deviation from his initial plan— when he sees you sitting on your couch, sorting through a pile of mail on your coffee table. With a mind of their own, his knuckles knock lightly against the glass and he can’t help but let a humorous snort slip out when your body jerked with a visceral startle, head whipping towards the source of your adrenaline spike.

You don’t need to verbally question his sudden appearance when it’s written all over your face.  Your eyebrows are knitted and arched, mouth turned down in a slight frown, hands clenched in fists with visible tension and unease. “Alhaitham, what– I mean–”

He holds up the food behind the windowpane for you to see. “I wanted to bring you dinner since you probably don’t have anything prepared on your first night back.”

Without another word, you slide open the window, letting him clamber through as you take the bag from him. He retrieves it as you lock the window and yank the curtains together, setting it on the table away from a mound of what he presumes to be junk mail. You scramble for words and coherency as you search for clean plates and utensils, but the effort is fruitless. There’s a trapped shriek in your chest and you don’t know how to snuff it out.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for some awkward small talk here and there. He makes it a point to give you extras, whether it be a little more mint cilantro or tamarind chutney for the samosas (despite it being his favorite) or more of the lamb from the biryani. Each little morsel pushes your heart further up your throat, further sending you into a downward spiral. Why is he so kind and caring when you had essentially kicked him out last time? Why is he going out of his way to make up for a wrong he never committed?

Alhaitham basks in your company, taking in every detail of your outward appearance. You seem skinnier than before, hair just a little bit longer. A few fresh, healing cuts on your hand stand out to him and he hopes they were all accidental and not intentionally created by another human being. There’s so much he wants to say and question, but for once he cannot find the right words. Rarely has he ever felt as though he was skating on paper-thin ice with someone – years of not caring or sparing thoughts for how others might perceive him lends nothing to resolve his state of incertitude. So the only way he can currently try to communicate is through actions, hence the extra foods and your favorite parts of them, making sure you have a usable napkin at all times, refilling your cup of water when it starts to look low, and more.

With a full belly, you sigh with satisfaction, a breath that appeases Alhaitham just the slightest bit. “That was good. Thank you for bringing it.”

“You’re welcome. Was the food in Fontaine not to your taste?”

You hum in thought. “A bit bland, honestly. Not as many spices are used in their foods like they are here.”

“Ah.”

The two of you sit silently for a few moments. You’re looking anywhere and at anything but him, your knee bouncing and hands wringing together. Is he trying to let you down easy? Soften the blow? What is his end goal?

His fingers tap the table in a silent rhythm, noticing that despite the small talk, the tension in the air is still viscous. He ignores the gnawing desire to hold your hand and squeeze it tight, to graze his thumb over those scabs and kiss them. He’s not ready to leave yet, which is why he juts his chin towards the only unopened bag on the table and says, “I also brought dessert. Would you care to have some now?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. I can think of something else I want for dessert but that’s not the point right now, is what runs through your head.

“Sure. What is it? I might have something to go with it.”

“It’s baklava.”

For him to remember that baklava from Pupusa Cafe is your preferred dessert when eating your favorite dishes is even more mind-boggling in this whole situation.

You stand on shaky legs and walk towards the pantry. “Does wine sound okay?”

Alhaitham ponders your last mutual experience with alcohol, which had ended in a disaster, even if he knew full well that it wasn’t a cause by any means; an unintended catalyst. As long as neither overindulged, it would be harmless. Right?

So he nods. “That sounds good.”

You return with a corkscrew opener, two stemless wine glasses, and one of your better bottles of aged wine. Alhaitham remains silent as he takes the opener from you and drives it into the cork, hand twisting the top knob with ease. You feel shameless in the way you stare at his arms, watching his muscles flex. The veins in his hand become more visible and you can see the tension in his forearm through his arm guards, all the more when he pushes the levers closed and wiggles the cork out of its confines. He takes good care to tactfully remove the cork and place it on the table, and pours a glass for you first.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you take it from him with both hands, ignoring the way his fingers seem to linger after making contact with yours. You portion out the baklava as he pours a glass for himself and he voices his gratitude in turn.    

As you nibble on the delicacy, the silence weighs heavily on your chest, both a burden and a source of comfort. “Did you find everything you needed in Fontaine for your research?” he asks, once again attempting to make some neutral conversation. Alhaitham has never been one for sweets, but he’s willing to eat it for and with you. The cafe’s baklava is one of few desserts he can handle, as it’s not as sickeningly sweet as some other places’ when they’ve added too much syrup.

You chew slowly as you think of your answer. “I think so. I feel pretty good about my report.”

“I’ll be sure to read it soon,” he responds. After all, he is a pretty quick reader, and with the dwindling number of research project applications, he can efficiently get through the other reports to make sure he reviews yours before he goes back to being the Scribe.

“You know, there’s no need to rush on my account,” you say. Honestly, that’s the last thing you need because it would confirm your worst fears and assumptions. Everything discussed with Lumine would’ve been tossed violently out the window, and you so badly don’t want it to manifest.

“...I won’t,” he assures you. Alhaitham understands your research paper needs to be treated like every other one passing through the Akademiya, especially if he is going to be one of the formal reviewers.

You feel your lungs losing air, your heart rate soaring through the roof. With a stroke of luck, your glasses of wine are finished off and the plates hold nothing but crumbs, which provides a perfect excuse for you to get up and get away.

“I’m gonna wash the dishes,” you announce, voice doing little to hide how nervous and shaky you’re feeling. It’s another miracle that you don’t drop anything on the trek from the dining table to the sink as you wonder if you’ve killed any chance of being with Alhaitham. Where was the confidence you possessed when you first met the man?

Even being mere meters away from him becomes painful. His presence alone provides a sense of security, strong and silent. The lack of warmth, the string between you two pulled taut, ignites an obdurate yearning – the very same yearning experienced when you spent days avoiding the man prior to your departure for Fontaine. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they all say, and there certainly was some merit to it.

The silence remains suffocating, in some ways, but also comforts you with its deep pressure, distracting you enough that you fail to notice Alhaitham moving around. He removes his cloak and earpieces, draping them neatly over the couch armrest before he comes to stand next to you at the sink. He grabs a towel and is ready to dry when you’re done washing the dishes. Your muscles begin to relax, that earlier frost of loneliness gradually dissipating with his presence nearby. He dries everything with the utmost care and lines them up neatly as you hand them over, and you ignore the little brushes of his fingers against yours with each relinquished plate. You can’t help but wonder if he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks because honestly, you feel like your face is on fire.

Alhaitham finishes drying off the last item – the second stemless wine glass – and turns to lean his back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He waits as you rinse down the sink and passes you the towel to dry off your hands. Your timid smile leaves him hopeful that you’re not visibly shying away from him— not visibly, at least. Seconds pass, and now there is nothing left for you to do or keep yourself busy. He waits for you to gather your bearings and settle to show that you’re ready to talk about… whatever this is.

Those haunting irises suddenly meet his with an alarming amount of determination, holding steadfast and searching his for something, anything. He can’t bear to lose and look away, not that he wants to. Yet you remain quiet, and Alhaitham leans into his impulses.

With firm, sure hands, he pulls you toward his original spot and lifts you up just enough so that you’re sitting on the counter. Alhaitham plants them by your waist and bends down to be level with your gaze, which now holds hints of fear and surprise. They’re open wide, your pupils slowly dilating, and he catches a glimpse of your fingers curling around the edges of the counter. He so badly wants to cradle your face in his hands, to feel your physical presence and prove to himself that you’re really here before him. But that is intimacy he hasn’t quite been granted yet and he can’t mess this up. He must’ve done something wrong the last time he was here, and he most certainly doesn’t want to risk the same outcome again.

“I like you,” he proclaims with a resolute tone. Alhaitham has always hated beating around the bush when unnecessary, and at this point he needs it said out loud for you to know. “I have been attracted to you since the moment we met, and I used to believe that it was purely a biological response. But then I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to learn more about who you are and how your mind works. To be quite honest, I can’t stand the thought of anyone else being in my position right now. I will not hide the fact that I am selfish and want you all for myself, if you would have me.”

You are struggling so hard to keep the smile off your face, your mouth pursing while your teeth dig into the inside of your bottom lip. Three months ago, you would never have seen this coming, and you would have laughed in anyone’s face if they had suggested it.

“If you need time, I can wait. I am not always the most patient person, but for you, I am willing to do so. And–”

“I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again after having sex,” you interject and confess. The embarrassment of your thoughts and actions quickly becomes a heavy weight in your chest. Your nerves strain to get the better of you and shut you down before saying more, but you force yourself to push past them. Alhaitham provided you with honesty and transparency, and he deserves the same from you. “We had so much tension between us and I was worried that once it was all resolved, you wouldn’t feel the need to see me again.”

Alhaitham takes a moment to process your words, but he can still see the tension in your shoulders. You won’t meet his gaze as you look past him or at other parts of his body. “There’s something else, is there not?”

You look down at your hands in your lap, your fingers intertwined and fingertips applying pressure where they land. With how forthcoming he has been, you owe it to him to extend the same courtesy, despite how silly it feels now.

“I couldn’t understand why you would even like me,” you say, voice soft and barely audible in the silence. You’re unable to mask the melancholy in your tone when you remember how it felt to internally question his affections and assume the worst. A quiet chuckle slips past your lips, but it’s derisive and bittersweet. “I’m just another scholar and you— you were the Scribe and later Acting Grand Sage. I thought maybe people would accuse me of… providing sexual favors, to put it lightly, if you showed me any leniency or favoritism in my academic career.”

The back of your knuckles brush against his cheek as you lift your head up to take him in. “You could have anyone in the world and you deserve nothing but the best. So why me?”

“I would need a few all-nighters and several pieces of paper to pen down every reason why.”

His quick reasoning with all indicators of certainty – his tone, the lack of any dishonesty in his eyes, the way he holds your eye contact – takes you for a loop. You’re only able to let out a soft “oh” as you let the implications of his words swim in your brain, leaving you helpless to find a suitable response. How do you follow up on an answer like that?

When he feels your fingers slipping down his jawline, he stops it with his own to press his cheek into your palm. “If it provides you any comfort, I will no longer be the Acting Grand Sage by next week. You know how long I’ve waited for them to process and approve of my resignation. And as the Scribe… it still does not matter. People who would assume something so salacious are simply capitalizing on their own insecurities, and they do not deserve a second of your time or an ounce of room in your thoughts. I do my best to exercise fairness and reason in all matters for the Akademiya, and even as my partner you would not be safe from that.

“I’ve never shied away from telling you how things are and you know this. I can ensure you would not earn any favoritism or leniency within the boundaries of the Akademiya, should my presence be involved in your research.”

The smirk that creeps up at the corner of his lips ignites a small flame in your belly – thrill and heat and trepidation all melding together. “Now, outside of those boundaries, it’s a different matter. If I may pry once more, what is your answer?”

Liquid fire pumps from your heart and into your veins, further fueling the heat in your core. Just as it dips dangerously lower, so does your hand, and the other joins in lightly scraping your nails down his abdomen. You feel him jump beneath your touch and relish in the sound of his swallow, and how his breath hitches when your fingertips dip into the band of his pants. They tug him forward until he’s standing between your thighs, just centimeters of nothingness between you two. Even as close as he is, Alhaitham can’t help but think there’s still too much space unoccupied.

Your eyes scream, beseeching him to understand your actions and for him to respond in kind. It can only mean one thing, but he wants to hear those words. He wants it engraved in his memories for the rest of time, despite the desperation to give in and give you both what you desire and need. Alhaitham grasps your chin between his thumb and curled index finger, leaning forward closer and closer until his lips barely touch yours.

“Use your words.”

Arousal seeps through your underwear as the subdued tenor of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Wholly unfair, this man is. Devilish, demanding, teasing, controlling – but most of all, he is yours.

“Please let me have you, if you will have me,” you whisper against his lips, eyelashes fluttering closed at the faint touch.

No sooner when you are greeted by darkness does he fully slot his mouth against yours, hands gripping tightly on your hips to pull you against him. A groan slips past and into you because gods, he’s missed this so much. After nights of waking up with the ghost of your kisses, he never wants this to end and longs for a reality where time can stop and he can take his sweet, sweet time to worship every millimeter of your body with his lips, and then some. Excitement electrifies his whole body when you reciprocate his desire ounce for ounce, and even more so when you let out a pretty little whine, just for him.

When he pulls back for a chance to breathe, he doesn’t move far. “Good girl,” he praises so sweetly, the words washing over you in something akin to pride for eliciting his approval and pleasing him. Alhaitham slides the tip of his nose against yours, moving to kiss your forehead, then your cheeks, your jawline, and the pulse point on your neck. Even the slightest pressure has you tilting your head to the side, granting him permission and room to do as he pleases. Alhaitham bides his time to press whispers of kisses onto your skin until he nips a sensitive spot. A sharp inhale pierces through the kitchen when he sucks on the patch of skin caught between his teeth, taking the utmost care to break the little capillaries underneath. He wants you to experience his phantom touches on these spots in the hours when he’s away from you, a constant reminder that you are his and his alone.

Your fingers dig into Alhaitham’s silver locks, torn between pressing him further into your neck and pulling him away. “Haitham,” you plead and tug on his strands, which only prompts an even harsher abrasion from him. “Wanna kiss you.” Your voice is breathy, and you feel as if you’re on the verge of tears. Who is he to deny such a reasonable request?

Though instead, he pulls you off the counter and rushes to your bedroom with you in tow, granting your wish as soon as you enter. The back of his knees hit the foot of your bed and Alhaitham drags you with him when he sits on top of your blankets. Despite your eagerness to clamber over and straddle him, he disapproves when you attempt to exercise a modicum of control over the situation by leveraging some height over him, utilizing gravity to lean into his embrace and kisses. His palms slide up your thighs with reverence until they dig into the crevice of your hips and yank them down. To have you pressed fully against him is most certainly a blessing, and there’s no way you don’t feel his growing arousal against yours.

When he feels his bottom lip stuck between your teeth, Alhaitham smiles. It still seems you’re not fully understanding the position you’re in. Perhaps, he might need to remind you of just who exactly is succumbing to who.

You keen when his hands dip underneath your shirt to draw meaningless patterns into your waist, but also to make his mark as he holds tight enough that you think you would feel some internal bruising tomorrow. They dance higher and higher, until they meet the bottom seam of your bra, and you nearly choke with the arousal suffocating your lungs.

“Can I?” Alhaitham almost begs, but watches for any sign of hesitation.

“Yes,” you breathe back. You lift your arms up, waiting with thinning patience, and he wastes no time in following through, tossing the shirt to the side with one hand as the other busies to unhook the metal clasp of your bra. Soon enough, your upper body is bare for him to see, to touch, to love – and his breath is taken away because you are so, so beautiful; perfect breasts with hardened nipples, an empty canvas all for him. He made a mistake last time for not seeing them properly, having been too focused on the way they felt against his chest instead.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. His subsequent scoff feels derisive, sardonic, self-destructive, and his thumbs ghost over your areolas. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous – this is unfair.”

“You’re the one who’s unfair,” you retaliate with a shaky breath as you nearly tear off his shirt. One look at his muscular and toned frame, and it takes everything to stop the drool from spilling past your lips. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Be careful,” he warns, his fingers digging into the flesh just underneath your breasts. Alhaitham holds onto you as he scoots further back onto the bed, and once he deems there’s enough room, he rolls over until he’s hovering above you, panting and hair splayed and lips swollen. “I’m just a feeble scholar.”

When you roll your eyes with an excessive amount of sass, he dips down to capture your right nipple in his mouth and gives a harsh suck as punishment, satisfied when all defiance on your face morphs into pleasure. Pretty, responsive, little angel, all for him, so sweet, so delicate, so adorable when your spine arches into his mouth and continues to suspend itself as he pays his respects to your other breast. You feel your conscience become fuzzier and fuzzier, dissolving into mush as the tendrils of overstimulation begin to grow, and once again, you find yourself torn between wanting to let him continue and wanting him to stop.

He decides to grant you some mercy when you can’t help but twitch and shy away. Alhaitham’s primal desires begin to crest and wash away any rationale, desperate to keep the taste and feel of your skin between his lips and on his tongue. He doesn’t quite understand this newfound desire to nip and bite, but all he knows is that when he does, his arousal pulses and nearly threatens to break past the seam of his pants. Alhaitham moves lower, lower, ghosting past your stomach, nudging past the band of your bottoms and underwear to tug them down all the way. Those are thrown out of view and he finally, finally, gets to continue from where he last left off, taking no time to push your legs away towards your chest and give a lascivious lick up the length of your cunt. The tip of his tongue meets your clit at the end of its journey, and he firmly holds you down when your hips buck into his mouth as it circles the nub.

It’s game over when he takes it fully in his mouth.

Your hands twist themselves once more into his silver hair, expletives slipping off your tongue as you chase your high. You feel your pussy clench around nothing the higher you climb, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. He eats you out like a man starved, enthusiasm unveiled and clear. His passion unbridled and sending you further into the clouds, you feel tears in your eyes begin to well up from sheer bliss, so sensitive and so unbelievably unprepared for everything this man was going to give you tonight. “Haitham,” you cry over and over, his name a mantra and prayer.

When he leans back, you catch a glimpse of the sheen on his chin and the way his eyes remain focused on your arousal, pupils blown. “You taste so good,” he compliments, his voice somehow having dropped an octave lower. “Could eat you out for hours. So good for me, fuck.” It’s dangerous how much you love to hear him curse, knowing that you are the reason why. The rational, feeble, well-spoken scholar, his prose extending to situations such as now, is almost reduced to such crude and filthy vocabulary.

Alhaitham would need to be blind to miss your sticky precum practically spilling from your core after what he said. It’d be a shame to let any of it go to waste, he muses, as he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt and pays attention to your clit again. He watches for every reaction, what makes you tug him closer, what makes your body twitch and convulse, what causes the shakiest exhales from your lungs, what contributes to your squeals and cries – he wants you to get a taste of just how unhinged he becomes in your presence.

Each moment of friction, so wet and slick, against your core seems to send you further and further into oblivion. Tears overflow when your heart bursts and Alhaitham doesn’t miss them – the sheen sliding down the sides of your face shines in the moonlight and he knows there is no reason to fear you’re in pain. He drinks in your moans and feels your fingers tangle further in his silver strands, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, your hips with a mind of their own as you grind against his tongue and nose to chase your release. Alhaitham pays no mind to the way his cock twitches once more in his pants or the unmistakable wet spot that’s formed from his own precum.

The coil in your abdomen wounds tighter and tighter. There is nothing on your mind but the man between your legs and your impending orgasm, one with an intensity you haven’t experienced in ages. “ ‘m close,” you gasp and meet his burning gaze. “Please, wanna cum – yes – please, sir–”

How he doesn’t cum in his pants at the title is beyond his comprehension, but the stroke to his ego is welcoming, to say the least. Alhaitham never felt any type of way when others addressed him as so, sometimes annoyed even, but from you? It is everything. A verbal indication of relinquishing your power to him, your existence at its highest vulnerability, the underlying respect, the implicit trust hidden between three letters – only has him pushing down harder against your thighs, leaving no room for you to fight. The resolve and determination to have you cum on his tongue only increases and his thoughts plunder further into hell. Cum for me, cum on my tongue, let me taste your release that I give you, so fucking addictive – his silent commands painted on your tight bundle of nerves.

With Alhaitham exercising a dizzyingly sinful strength against you, leaving you helpless and defenseless, you let yourself succumb as your heart rate increases. Your breathy warnings and pleas, the oh fuck!s, the whimpering sir!s, confessions of love on the tip of your tongue – you have one minute, moment of clarity when your body freezes, and the coil snaps.

You don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard before, reality-shattering, nerves on overdrive, your body trembling beneath his palms as you ride out the pleasure for as long as you can. The quiet scream from your lungs is inevitable as it dissolves into sobs and Alhaithm follows you when your hips buck. There’s not enough oxygen for you and you can feel the visceral clenching of your abdomen as you fight for air and some semblance of control again – but that flies out the window when, for the first time tonight, Alhaitham slides his tongue inside your quivering cunt.

Said Scribe cannot help but groan, and he wishes he’d done this earlier. To feel your creamy walls squeeze as his taste buds slide amongst them, your keening ringing in his ears, the shaking of your thighs a prisoner between his fingers, the intoxicating taste of your cum – all of it is more than he could have ever dreamed of. Right where he wants you, and all his, his, his.

The incessant tugging of his hair tells him to stop for now, as much as he doesn’t want to. If it were up to him, he’d have you cumming on his tongue for hours, his hard cock be damned. But your convulsions of overstimulation manage to generate the slightest bit of sympathy and he laments when pulling away. His eyes hone in on the way your pussy contracts around nothing, almost begging for something to fill you again. “Good girl,” he praises, tenor delicate and charming, as he rubs gentle circles on your abdomen in an attempt to ground you. There are stars in your eyes, and he waits for you to come back to him.

You barely register Alhaitham’s hand on your body as you stare up at the ceiling, brain and soul somewhat disconnected due to the high of your orgasm. So good to me, your thoughts coo. Haitham, sir, how can I show my gratitude to him?

“Y/N,” and at last, you make eye contact with him. He preens at the blissed out look on your face and moves forward until he’s lying next to you, his weight supported on one arm while the other brushes away your baby hairs. A dreamy smile graces your lips, and he can’t help but lean forward for a soft kiss. Languid, sensual, pliant – several minutes fly by as you bask in each other’s presence until the need for more begins to bloom again. Alhaitham lets out a chuckle when he feels your hand wandering down his frame until it rests on his crotch. Making out with you has kept him semi-hard, and he’s happy you’re taking the initiative. Not that you’re in control, by any means, but it’s cute that you might think so.

Your mind reels from just how big he feels beneath your palm. You can’t deny the times when you’ve sneaked glances at his crotch, his tight pants outlining a slight bulge from day to day – but you never thought your fingers would be splayed so far apart, and you just know they would struggle to meet when gripping his length. Your whines reach his ears as you fumble with the clasp above the zipper, and Alhaitham is so kind, kind enough to take over and do it for you. Seconds later, his pants and underwear join the pile of forgotten clothes, and you immediately look down at what you’ve been waiting for.

The instant pooling of saliva in your mouth is embarrassing, shame and lust spilling into your chest and through your veins. Alhaitham’s cock is so beautiful, just like the rest of him, and you’ve never wanted something in your mouth so bad. It twitches under your reverent gaze, and the tip glistens with his precum. Even the noticeable veins drawn along his length are beautiful, and his balls seem to be engorged, heavy with cum. You prove your earlier hypothesis when you hold it in your hand, and your fingers truly do not meet around the circumference. A gush of slick leaks and paints your inner thighs, your hand seemingly tiny in comparison as you slowly stroke him.

Alhaitham hisses at your touch, so cold against the heat of his cock. There’s a passing thought of wanting to keep that fawning look on your face at all times, the metaphorical hearts in your eyes with his dick in your hand. In a moment of weakness, the thought begins to spiral into darker fantasies, how to keep you hooked and dependent on him, his cock, his mouth, his touch. A flash of a daydream crosses by of him sitting in his office chair, you on your knees between his legs, his shaft bullied deep in your throat as you keep it warm for him, drool and spit spilling from the corner of your lips, so submissive and desperate for him to fuck your face–

Your thumb glosses over his frenulum and he is ripped from his reverie. At risk of cumming too quickly, he thinks of how to keep your soft hands away for now. What can he use? How can he restrict you?

Ah.

Confused whimpers follow after him when he abruptly stands up from your bed and walks over to the pile of discarded clothes. You miss the warmth of his body next to you, goosebumps from the sudden chill rising on your skin. But before you can begin to chase after him, he returns to sit on the bed and beckons for you to sit up for him.

He loves how willing you are to obey him, your eyes wide and a little awestruck as you follow his gesture – almost as if he were your puppeteer. Alhaitham holds out his hands in front of him, palms facing the ceiling, and you match the posture with intrigue painted across your face. As you wait, clarification comes to you when he reveals the patterned, teal sash that usually encompasses his hips. Slow, deliberate movements as he wraps the cloth around your wrists (in case you don’t want it because he would never force you to do anything you were uncomfortable with), indicate this uncharted territory. And when the tie is made and the knot is pulled tight, you look up at him.

“Is this okay?” He asks. When you give a mute nod, he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Words, Y/N.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Yes, sir, it’s okay.”

Alhaitham watches as you lay back until your head meets the pillow, and your bound wrists lay prettily above your head. Your constrained and exposed body greets him. He sees your eyes strain to catch another glance at his cock, and the smirk on his lips is nothing but smug as he gives it a few quick pumps as a gift to you.

“Can you come here?” You plead because you know there’s no room to make any demands, and it’s his turn to be curious. Nevertheless, he resumes his original position by your side, but you shake your head. You can tell he doesn’t know what’s happening, but you are feeling shameless and powerless, at the mercy of this man, and you want him to really, really, drive that point deeper.

“Can you…straddle me? Like above my chest though?”

If this is going where Alhaitham thinks it’s going, he might just abandon the Akademiya altogether, whisk you away to his house, kick out Kaveh and have him live in your apartment instead, and keep his own doors locked for eternity. He does as you ask as he thrums in excitement, his cock weighty and leaking when you’re satisfied with where he is.

Time slows to a crawl as he watches you lift your head up with your pretty mouth open and take the tip of his cock between your glossy lips.

The tight heat is maddening, a strangled “fuck” falling off his tongue, and you push forward to take more of his length in your mouth. So dutiful and loyal, you have proven yourself, as you suck his cock with your eyes closed and moans vibrating around him. Given certain physical limitations, there’s only so much you can take in, which is where he believes it’s his time to act his part. He places a hand on the back of your skull to provide you some relief, but also to sink deeper down your throat. Naturally, you fall back until it’s just the head between your lips again, but he is right there to drag you back towards him and fill your depraved mouth.

“Look at you,” he hisses, controlling your pace. Such a good little fucktoy, no?  “Who knew you would want my cock so badly? For me to sit on top and watch as you struggle to even take half of it in your mouth? I don’t think you have any idea of what you’ve started. Your lips are stretched so wide, but just wide enough for me to fit perfectly in between them, like it was made for me. Maybe that’s what it is.” His perverse thoughts run wild without any composure or filter, and he is unable to hold it in. “You were made for me and my cock, and– oh fuck – it seems like you love the idea of being my personal cocksleeve.”

Your eagerness to please him increases as you strain to take more in, his tip slipping into and catching the back of your throat. The sound of you choking on his cock rings in your ears, sending you further and further into oblivion. Every word from Alhaitham sounds true, and he’s right – right that maybe you were specifically made for him, his own blessing from the Archons, and right that you deeply, painfully, love the idea of letting him use you as he wishes. A garbled cry, followed by more sticky release dripping from your cunt, doesn’t go unnoticed when his voice sounds ragged on the word “cocksleeve.” It’s a lascivious tone of accord and approval, and your tears flow when he pulls you as far down his length as your quenched throat allows, your chained wrists resting atop your skull, and he keeps you there.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. “I have no objections to fully commit to being yours, your sir. But you must understand I expect the same commitment in return. This cock is yours,” Alhaitham promises, relishing in your muffled whimper of agreement. “And you are mine. My,” – a pause – “personal, depraved, slut.”

At first, he worries he might have gone too far with such a derogatory term, but they are all dashed aside when he watches your eyelids flutter closed and eyes roll into the back of your head. A long whine sends him into overdrive, and even more so when you try to fit more of his cock down your throat. Expletives slip from his tongue as he pulls you away completely, a tendril of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, your mouth still wide open while gasping for air. He sees your own tongue peek out and rest on your bottom lip, pliant and waiting for him to return.

Alhaitham lets go of your skull and watches you fall back to your pillow. He moves your tied hands above and over your head until they settle right above your belly button. The position allows him to trap your arms beneath him and move just a little further up the bed for the bottom half of his length to weigh heavily on your eager mouth. It remains open as he drags his shaft along your tongue, teasing you by slipping the head of his cock in your mouth. Your lips immediately close around it, but they are no match for when he pulls away, and you’re left empty once again.

“Truly a cockslut,” he chides as his hand takes a hold of his length and smacks it against your tongue. “You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?” And he smirks when you nod, still beckoning, still waiting. “You’ve done well for me so far. Perhaps I should give you a gift.”

There’s little time to regain your senses when he shoves his length in until it hits the back of your throat once more and grabs onto your headboard. Just that angle gives him enough leverage to fuck your face as he pleases.

“If your mouth is this tight, I can only imagine what your cunt will feel like on my cock,” he grits out. Your brain goes numb as you take it all in, content and satisfied to please Alhaitham. You focus on making sure your teeth don’t drag against his skin, tongue swiping patterns and circles around his cock when possible. “I’ll need to take my time stretching out your tiny pussy, won’t I? Fuck, need to make it fit inside you. Isn’t that right?”

Alhaitham pretends to be dissatisfied with your moan, all garbled and thick with drool. “How many times do I need to tell you to use your words?” He teases, knowing full well there’s no way for you to form any right now. But a wicked, joyous laugh rings in your ears when he can tell you’re attempting to do it anyways. It goes straight down his dick and into his balls, and as they tighten further, he knows he’s close.

You don’t know how it’s possible for him to grow any thicker, but somehow it happens when his pace increases, and he tells you, “I’m going to cum, okay? Going to give you all my cum, make you my cumslut. You want to be my cumslut, you’re doing so well, so perfect, letting me fuck your mouth. Shit, cumming, cumming –!”

At the very last second, he pulls out and furiously pumps his cock, shifting back just in time for his cum to paint your breasts. “Fuck!” He growls and rides out the high until there’s nothing left to give you, blinding light beneath his eyelids before he snaps them open so he can watch you become covered by his release. Viscous, white ropes paint over you, some even landing on your cheek and neck. His chest heaves and his eyes remain unfocused from the fog in his brain.

That is, until he watches you swipe his cum from your neck with your fingers before it drips onto the bed, and place them in your mouth. Your sigh screams content as you lick them clean, and as far as he can tell, you’re enjoying the taste of him – as if he was the one to sate your thirst rather than the other way around. In a trance, he joins you in your meal by feeding you more with his own appendages, and his dick returns to half-mast once all the cum is visibly gone and slid down your throat.

“Thank you for your cum,” you say, your voice dreamy and euphoric. Alhaitham pulls you by your bound wrists again until you’re sitting up close enough, and buries his head into your shoulder, embedding his own kisses of gratitude into your skin. It doesn’t matter that there’s dried spit on your chin and your hair is a mess – you’re still so incredibly stunning to him.

To look into your eyes, to cradle your face in his palm, to ghost his thumb over your cheekbone, how lucky he is to be in a position to even ask you, “Was that okay?”

“Very,” you smile, unabashed and clearly happy with everything that had just happened. A small giggle slips out as well.

“Good,” he murmurs after kissing your forehead. “Would you be open to one more round? It seems I haven’t gotten enough of you.”

You see the evidence of his claims, how his cock gradually grows and rises under your watchful stare. His earlier words of needing to stretch you out before he can fuck you play in your head, and they remind you of just how wet you are. Still tied up, you scoot back away from him until you can stretch your legs out, parted to reveal what you so desperately wanted to touch as his dick was lodged in your mouth. Alhaitham’s pupils dilate and zero in on the mess between your thighs, and he chases after you to spread your legs farther.

“You became this wet from me fucking your mouth?” His fingers slide against the folds of your puffy cunt, your clit peeking out and swollen. “Tsk, all this pre gone to waste,” and you whimper when his nails barely graze that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. There’s no resistance when he works his middle finger inside you and your breath hitches. He turns his wrist as he fingers you, creating more and more arousal coursing through your veins. Alhaitham is proud that one finger of his affects you so. You whine and reach for him with grabby hands, managing to latch onto his wrist so he can keep his appendages buried inside you. “My my,” he teases, and his fingers curl, searching and searching until his fingertip taps against the exact spot that makes your back arch.

“You’re so eager to be filled,” Alhaitham taunts as he lubes up his ring finger with your slick. You feel even tighter when it slips in with his middle finger, and he finds that spot again in no time, already having memorized where it is. “You don’t have my permission to cum yet,” he warns, a decision just made when your walls are really beginning to clench around him.

“B-but–”

A third finger joins in, cutting you off from any protesting. “You either cum on my cock or not at all,” he offers and you think it’s beyond cruel. Why can’t you cum on his fingers and his cock?

With every last thread of your existence, you stamp down the growing desire to cum again. It feels like hours have passed, your sanity barely intact, when Alhaitham hums, just loud enough to be heard amongst your moans and whines. “I’m beginning to question whether I truly am too big for you,” he contemplates out loud. “What do you think, Y/N?”

It’s so hard to answer his question when you’re using everything else inside you to not break around his fingers. The depraved squelching of your slick only adds fuel to the fire in your core, and you’re trying to think, you really are–

The friction ceases, and before you can even address it, there’s a light, punishing slap across your clit. “Fuck,” you whimper, throat dry.

“Answer my question. Do you think I might not fit inside you?”

You know what answer he’s looking for. You know he wants you to surrender to his hidden intentions, that, “It doesn’t matter,” and you swallow. “I will…make it fit.”

In turn, he removes his fingers with care, but leaves you horribly empty with the void expanding into your chest. “Do you have a condom?” Alhaitham asks while looking around your bedroom.

“The bottom drawer on the right in the bathroom.”

Your sir leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I will return soon.”

For the seconds that you try to catch your breath, to calm your beating heart, to ignore the vacuity between your legs, you realize just where you are and who you’re with. You haven’t had much of a clear mind since the second he knocked on your window, caught up in the whirlwind of your nerves and paranoia – and then to have it turned on its head where you now lay in your bed, free of any prior anxiety, and drown in your lust.

Alhaitham wanders back into your room, focused on the package in his hand. Shameless and perverse, your eyes drink in his length, bobbing with each step. Even you’re beginning to doubt your ability to take him all in, but the anticipation, the threads of excitement that you may be filled again clouds over everything else.

“Hold your legs for me,” he commands gently, and you obey once he unties the sash around your wrists. Your arms hook beneath your knees so that everything is displayed and exposed to him. He sets the condom to the side when he shuffles closer so his hips meet the bottom of your thighs. Your breath hitches when he presses his cock onto your abdomen, and it pleases both of you so much to see that his tip just about reaches your belly button. “Look at how deep it’ll be inside you,” he coos, your whine following. “But it’s okay if you can’t take it all, you can’t help it that your little cunt is so tight.”

There’s a twinge of faux disappointment in his words. As if on instinct, you shake your head in vehement disagreement. “I’ll make it fit, sir, I promise,” you gasp and pull your legs closer to you. “We have to make it fit.”

“Mmm, my eager cocksleeve,” he responds with mirth, his regales washing away the panic from your system. You wait with bated breath as he grinds the underside of his entire length against your glistening folds, purposely catching onto your clit when possible. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand the torture, becoming wetter and wetter with each glide. “The color system is okay to check in with you?”

“Yes.”

He nods and leans back so the tip of his cock is just outside your entrance. His fingers roll and stretch the condom down his length. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to tear his gaze away from your core so he can obtain your consent to start, and the determined nod he receives sets his heart aflame.

A sinful perversion enters his mind as he watches your messy cunt split open and stretch over the head of his cock. He thinks about the future and wonders when the day will be for you to be in his lap and sink down his cock with no hesitation. His thumbs spread your folds further apart so he can get a better look, his lustful illusions from many lonely nights finally coming into play. Your breathy gasp when the head pops in is alluring, and he craves more of it. That perversion echoes its lack of satisfaction, that this is not enough, and he needs it all. Pride fills his chest as you take the first few inches with no problem, trying to take deep breaths as he continues to bully his way into your pussy.

Though internally, your mind is on the verge of breaking from how thick Alhaitham is. The emptiness from earlier has long been fulfilled, and you take a look to see that he’s barely fit half oh him inside you, and you already feel so full.

You were made for me.

I was made for him, you remind yourself, rationality thrown out the window because serving Alhaitham is all that matters in this moment. He’s giving you his cock, taking his time for you, providing a subtle reminder of just who you will belong to from here on out. Alhaitham has been so kind to you, you think. The least you could do is to be his good little slut, so eager and always yearning for him.

“You’re doing so well,” Alhaitham praises, though his voice chokes. You’re terribly tight around him, so much so that he wonders if he would even be able to pull out once he’s buried all of himself inside you. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, he thinks, to have you stuck on his cock for eternity, fucked dumb with nothing on your mind but him and pleasure. His hand puts the slightest pressure on your abdomen, but it’s enough for you to break with an “oh!”

“Fuck, I can almost feel myself inside you,” he marvels. “Color?”

It takes you a few seconds to process his question. “Green,” falls off your tongue with a whimper. But the bit of hesitation is enough for Alhaitham to stop in his tracks.

“Y/N, look at me.”

A dreamy hum on your lips, your blown out eyes meet his, and he realizes how far gone you are. “We can stop, it’s okay if we do.” But that may have been the wrong thing to say because your face falls, tears prickling your eyes. “I can do it,” you sniffle. “Please, sir.”

There is no way for him to remain unaffected by the way you address him, but he ensures to take extra care for the last few inches.

“You’re doing so well, taking all of me in. You’re keeping your promise, I’m so proud of you,” Alhaitham coos. The bottom of his shaft is just a little bit thicker, and you let out a happy squeal when your cunt stretches as much as it can to accommodate him. His tip barely grazes your cervix, and through your floaty thoughts, you almost wish it was deeper. The groan from Alhaitham as he bottoms out provides you comfort. It can only mean that you’re making him feel good, and that you did manage to have him fit inside you. So pleased with yourself, your pussy clenches around him and coaxes for more, for his cum.

If Alhaitham didn’t have better control of himself, he would’ve cum right then and there. Buried deep inside you, warm velvety walls sucking him in – it’s hard to believe that this is really happening. The person he loves is in his arms, joined with him in the most intimate way known to mankind. He never wants to leave you, leave this, yet his cock begs for friction. Your adorable whine of protest as he slides out a couple inches beckons him to return, and return he does as you let out a sound of pure satisfaction.

“Loveyou,” your words slurred together and fuzzy. “Love, love your cock, please, wan’ more, please?”

Archons, how are you so perfect for him? Alhaitham sets a steady, moderate pace and focuses on you, ensuring that you’re okay and pleased. It seems there’s a permanent grin on your face, even when you gasp or scream, and he’s determined to keep it there. When you seem completely accustomed to his pace, his strokes become longer and more indulgent. “Fuck,” you cry each time he fills you up with more and more of his cock with each stroke. His thumbs rub circles into your clit and drive you closer to your peak – you don’t know if you’re ready to cum yet, or if you want this to end. You don’t, but you’re so close–!

“Such a good girl for me – your little cunny was really made for my cock. There’s no one else for me, just you, pretty girl,” he breathes, seeing the hesitation on your face as your walls clench tighter than before. “I know you’re gonna cum soon, I want to see you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me?”

Anything he asks for, you would go to great lengths to give him what he wants. So if he wants you to cum, then you have to. You nod with a pout on your face, but Alhaitham leans forward, pushing your legs back further as he reaches to kiss the pout away. “That’s my good girl, so perfect.”

He pulls out completely, but why?

Alhaithm grabs and maintains eye contact with you for two agonizing seconds, and then commands you to, “Cum for me.”

And you do just that when he slams his entire length inside you as soon as those words leave his lips.

Alhaitham basks in your scream and sobs, your body convulsing and trembling beneath him, your walls an impossible vice around his cock. He grinds against you to go as deep as he can, “fuckfuckfuck”, and a growl buried in your neck as he cums. In your high, you think you can feel the heat and its spasms of it all, passively wondering what it would feel like to have him cum inside you without a condom. Perhaps one day you’ll be granted a nice little breeding session, but that is neither here nor there.

Alhaitham plants pecks and kisses all over your face, neck, and shoulders, smiling when your little giggles reach his heart. If anything, he’s just happy that everything turned out okay and didn’t end up in a disaster like last time. As he observes the serenity gracing your complexion, he cannot contain his affection any longer.

“Thank you…for having me.” I love you.

Another giggle. “I love you, too, Haitham. A lot.”

You’re kindly gifted a most adoring eskimo kiss. “I need to get you cleaned up, so I need to pull out, okay?”

The pout returns despite your agreement, and Alhaitham spends much needed time to pull out without you breaking. The devil on his shoulder protests otherwise, as it attempts to coax him into keeping you speared on his cock for the night, or more. Your whine of loss tugs at his heartstrings and feeds into his greed, and he embraces you once more to keep you grounded. Slowly, but surely, you return to your senses. Alhaitham is heavy and sweaty against you, but it’s more than you could ask for. A few taps on his shoulder are enough to tell him that you’re back on the same plane of reality with him, and he dives in to kiss you again, painting compliments and praises of how amazing you were along your lips.  

Alhaitham then sweeps you off the bed, into his arms, and takes hurried steps towards the bathroom. You’re like a delicate flower with the way he places you on the toilet, and he reminds you of the importance of peeing after sex. Your privacy is granted when he leaves to remove and tie off the condom to discard it in the kitchen trash can, and later returns with a warm, wet towel. He waits until you’re back in bed and comfortable before he tenderly wipes away any excess fluids and leaves it on your nightstand before cuddling next to you. You turn towards him and burrow into his chest, content as his arms embrace you with an air of security and protection.

He mumbles something into your hair, but you’re out before you can even think to ask what he said.

-

When you finally come to, you can’t remember the last time you slept so well. No tiresome dreams, no sporadically waking up in the night – weeks out in the nature with Lumine had turned you into a light sleeper, and you missed this feeling of being so well-rested.

But the soreness in your thighs screams otherwise, and you wince when they refuse to cooperate. A muscular arm rests around you as if it has always belonged there. At first you question why it’s there, but then your brain decides to wake up and remind you just exactly of what transpired last night. Despite the mixture of shock and embarrassment (mainly at just how wanton you acted), you look up from where you are buried into Alhaitham’s chest. Somehow, you’re surprised to see him already awake. Well, surprised may not be the right word. But the clear adoration in his eyes is unmistakable, seizing and pulling on your heartstrings.

Alhaitham quite enjoys watching you think and process, imagining the fine-tuned gears and cogs in your brain working in overdrive. He remains silent as he smooths out some of the tangles in your hair, and he patiently waits to hear from you. You two had already experienced many hours of quietude before, so this was nothing new for him. There are very few moments in his life when he’s felt this serene and content, half-naked and you pressed against him, both drinking in each other and the light of day coming from your window. He could get used to this. He wants to get used to this.

“You’re making me breakfast in bed,” you decide with your first words of the day, grumbling with a pout on your face. “I don’t think I can walk properly.”

The former scribe arches a perfect silver brow, but the shit-eating smirk stretching along his face is anything but confusion. He knows exactly what you’re implying, and he’s quite satisfied with himself for causing such a situation. Perhaps he should do it more often.

“That I can do,” he agrees, his morning voice deep, yet full of mirth. After a quick kiss on your forehead, he rolls out of bed to do just as you command.

The growl from your stomach prevents you from calling him back because you’re cold now. A shiver runs down your spine as you tighten the blanket and sheet around you, tucking some beneath your chin in an attempt to trap whatever warmth you have left. But when you catch a hint of Alhaitham’s lingering scent, you feel yourself immediately calm down and breathe evenly. The gentle cluttering from your kitchen provides another layer of security as well.

Lost in your basking, you’re quite startled when you feel Alhaitham’s lips on your cheek, a tray in his hands with a light, yet nutritious breakfast arranged. But as you continue to lay there, he can’t help but laugh.

“Do you need help sitting up?”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

You do, in fact, need his strength to sit up comfortably against some pillows. The embarrassment hasn’t quite worn off by the time he slides back underneath the sheets to sit next to you, an arm slung over your shoulders as you eat. But in seconds, it dissipates, and is replaced with something akin to love. For you both to finally be here, together as if you two have been dating for years, is exactly the outcome you have been wishing for.

“You know,” he starts before being interrupted by a forkful of food shoved into his mouth, courtesy of you. “You’re a perfect reason why I can finally kick Kaveh out of my home.”

You swat his shoulder with your free hand. “That’s so mean!”

“He can just move in here. I’m not that heartless to leave him homeless. Is that what you think of me?”

You answer without hesitation, “Yes.”

With the hand hanging off your shoulder, his nails scrape lightly in retaliation against the skin beneath your collar bone.

“If I recall, I was pretty fair with you last night,” he murmurs into your hair. “Perhaps I need to remind you just how fair when you’re done with breakfast.”

And you’ve never finished a meal so quickly.

fin.

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 8: how sweet...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -FLUFF-

Alastors POV:

Ever since that day, the day I came to terms with the fact that I am indeed infatuated with y/n its driving me crazy. why couldn't she just push me away, why didn't she deny my feelings, I feel weak...

your POV:

well last night was quite the shit show. I almost got raped, angel might pay for it later, and Alastor just confessed he loves me. what do I even do with myself, god my head hurts what was in those drinks. with a groan I get up heading to the bathroom to freshen up, it was a Saturday and I was feeling lazy so tank top and shorts it is. after changing I take a moment to look at myself, for a demon I look so....pathetic?, I really gotta learn how to defend myself, maybe ill ask vaggie later.

walking to the lobby I see Alastor on the arm chair with a book, husk at the bar, and angel flipping through channels on the TV. Alastor spots me and I stiffen, my face heating up remembering what happened last night, "good morning my dear" "oh uhh good morning, what are you guys doing?" I plop on the couch beside angel "ehh its my day off and my fucken head hurts" I roll my eyes "what happened to gotta start off strong" angel shoots me a scowl "I'm not one for weak alcohol like you~" "sounds like a you problem" "oh you little-" "ehem" looking at alastor he shoots angel a warning look, I try to hold in a laugh maybe having creepy deer man at my side isn't to bad "anyways I was going to go out for a walk to visit a dear friend of mine and would like for you to attend if you would like" "well I wasn't planning on doing anything today so why not" "wonderful dear tell me when your ready to go and we shall be off" as alastor leaves I avert my gaze back to angel as he throws me a suspicious look "what?" "what are ya giving smiles under the table or somethin, he never invites people out" with a flustered face I yell "angel!!!!" "what!? just sayin no need to get your panties in a bunch~" "whatever..." angel cackles as I walk away heading back to my room to get dressed. once again tearing up my closet I settle on a white sweetheart neckline puffy sleeved dress, brushing my hair and ears I hear a knock on the door, opening its alastor "hello my dear are you ready to go?" "yes!" "wonderful" heading to the hotel doors I turn back to angel who smirks doing a jerking off motion, I just flip him off I we both leave.

walking the streets of hell once again I notice that demon stray away from us, leaving the sidewalk free of any sinners blocking the path, damn just how scared were these people of Alastor, noticing him staring down at me "whats the matter?" "nothing cher you just look nice today" oh that's a new nick name "thank you but, were are we going?" "well none other then one of my favorite places in all of hell!" with a curious look I see a sign that says cannibal town written on it "cannibal town? Al am I going to get eaten" I joke seeing the people all around before watching a man get mangled and eaten, wait a damn minute- "I assure you cher nobody will eat you with me here" lovely.... "o-ok" I say trying to ignore the fact somebody literally got eaten alive in front of me, aside from that the town looked nice, don't get me wrong the people are terrifying but this is the most well managed place if seen thus far, its mostly just chaos down here. "there's somebody I would like you to meet, I'm sure she will love you~" walking into a place called Rosie's Emporium, it had nice dresses and is that- body parts!!?, suddenly a tall pale woman wearing a long dress and a large hat with feathers comes pushing past the crowed "alastor? alastor!!!, were have you been iv missed you" "hello Rosie, good to see you doing well" as she grabs him and hugs him she looks to me as I awkwardly wave "Alastor whos this lovely lady, introduce me will ya" "ah yes y/n dear this is Rosie one of the most darling and dangerous overlords this side of the pentagram!" "oh no need for such flattery~" "Rosie this is y/n a resident at charlies hotel" "oh hello, its nice to meet you" "my my she's a cutie!" "Rosie you don't mind if she picks though some of your lovely dresses" "oh of course, any friend of alastors is a friend of mine" "wait what-" "cher why don't you look through these lovely dresses at her shop I'm sure you will find something you like" "I- are you sure?" "yes, me and Rosie will talk for a bit, pick anything you like~" "oh uhm alright!"

Alastors POV:

sitting on one of Rosie's tables she hands me a cup of bitter coffee as we talk "well alastor its not everyday you bring a lady to my place~, who is she?" "we need to hang out less dear" she lets out a little laugh, "she's a shy one, quite a lucky girl aswell, it takes a lot to gain the likes of you" glancing at y/n looking through the dresses "she's quite interesting, and I don't know why..." "well your all googly eyed for her so I presume you love her" unconsciously some static cracks through my voice as I speak "love is a strong word don't you think?" "sounds like your in denial~" "I'm not in denial!, this is just a new form of interest" "I think this is good for you, she seems like bright girl. you guys haven't done anything yet hmm?" I give her a glare before averting my gaze elsewhere sipping my coffee "ohh~?" "nothing serious so don't get your hopes up" nothing serious yet, the truth was that kiss tasted sweet, it stir something in me, and I don't like sweet things. so why do I want more...I need more, I need another taste.

your POV:

looking at the clothing racks of dresses they were all old fashioned, not that it was a bad thing but not my style, I still looked around anyways setting my sights on a nice red and white dress, it had a high neckline with the top half being white and the bottom a deep red color. the sleeves were puffy, taking it off the rack I hang it over my arm "uhh Rosie you don't mind if I try anything on right?" turning her attention from there conversation "of course dear try on anything ya like, the dressing rooms are in the back!" I give her a smile as I hurry on back, looking at the dress I see there was buttons along the sides wear you slip it on, stepping into it I button them on, walking out I look at myself in the mirror, giving it a spin it looked pretty but the waist is a bit tight...seeing alastor in the mirrors reflection I turn "alastor you scared me for a second" "sorry cher I didn't intend to scare you, found something you like?" "I don't know I feel silly..." "nonsense you look wonderful" grabbing my hand he spins me earning a giggle "red is truly your color" "say the one who wears nothing but red" "well then I suppose we match don't we~" "can I have this one?" "of course, why don't you change and ill get it for you" "thank you Al" "anything for you my dear" running off to change I come back out with the dress in hand as we walk back to the front with Rosie "well take this one Rosie" "oh what a lovely choice you made, I'm sure this looked beautiful on you" "how much will that be?" "don't worry about it its on the house!" giving a wide smile she waves it off "thank you so much!" "yes thank you again Rosie" "anything for a friend, after all you've never done me wrong before~" packaging the dress in a nice bag she hands it to me with a card, "if you ever need some dresses don't hesitate to pay me a visit" she said with a wink and I nod with a wide smile.

Alastors POV:

it does my dead heart good to see her smile, to know I caused that smile, oh she had no idea what she's done to me. "y/n dear why don't we walk back to the hotel, wouldn't want to make Charlie worried" "oh yes!" I wave off Rosie finding her much needed advice quite useful "did you enjoy yourself cher?" "most defiantly!, I can see why you like this place" "yes it takes me back to my time were things were much simpler" "I wish I could live in this time, it was...nice" "glad you think so".

back at the hotel we walk in as it was already starting to get late, I walk her back to her room "consider this a date, I would love to take you out more cher" seeing a shade of red on her cheeks makes me feel giddy, taken out of my thought she suddenly gives me a hug, surprised I return her affectionate gesture hearing a small mumble from her "thank you alastor, it means a lot" "anything for you darling, now sleep well, don't let the nightmares' haunt you, that's my job~"

eat eat eat this up please because I pray you love this chapter as much as I didddd!!!! Rosie is my everything!!!! and are we gonna talk about last weekend were I woke up to 99+ NOTIFICATIONS!!!! I love you guys so much I could cry have a wonderful day/night lots of hugs

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more content or chapters please click this masterlist

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“We're all Mad here."

This is the first of a 7-part headcanon series for the Rollo at the Writing Desk blog event; the theme is basically "Rollo pays a visit to each of the dorms, and then chaos ensues". He'll have a chance to reconnect with old enemies friends from Glorious Masquerade, as well as meet new deplorable mages people! First up, an oldie but a goodie... Heartslabyul! (This one is extremely long because there are so many characters to account for 🤡)

A Big Heartslabyul Welcome to Rollo!

His nose is assaulted with the overpowering aroma of roses as soon as he steps foot into the garden. In his hand is an invitation to Heartslabyul: it's the 5th of the month, and therefore, they will be holding a tea party as per the rules of the Queen of Hearts. The guest of honor? Him: Rollo Flamme.

He's immediately flanked by two lines of Heartslabyul students in dorm uniforms, their faces painted with a card suit and trumpets in hand. The brass instruments sound loudly as he passes.

The dorm has gone out of its way to prepare for this occasion: they've strung up lots of flags and lanterns, brought out their best tablecloths and fanciest silverware. The roses are both red and white today too--the colors together, signaling the arrival of a new acquaintance.

Rollo grimaces at the fanfare, the colorful decorations strung up, the sickeningly sweet smells wafting over. It's an ill reminder of Topsy-Turvy Day back home, how all the locals delight in the sin called magic.

Waiting for Rollo deep in the rose garden is the dorm leader and his second-in-command to greet him. Riddle offers a small, polite smile and extends a hand. "Rollo-senpai." (His thinking is, "Rollo-senpai is the headmaster's esteemed guest. Regardless of what happened in the past, we must maintain decorum for the duration of his stay.") Trey nods and gives a slight tip his hat.

Rollo meets them with a stiff smile of his own. His grasp on Riddle’s hand is impersonal, cold. “Riddle-kun and company. I am humbled to be invited to participate in your dormitory’s time-honored traditions.” (It’s a lie, but no one needs to know.)

The celebration begins! Rollo is allowed to sit near the head of the table, and he’s presented with a generous selection of familiar foods: croissants, madeleines, mousses, choux pastries, macarons, tarte tarin… even accursed savarin, the cake he considered the least appetizing.

“I did some research on the City of Flowers,” Trey casually explains. “I heard that’s where you’re from, so I wanted to give you a taste of home away from home.” (And in spite of how much he loathes mages, even Rollo is impressed. “Hmm, most astute. I must say, I commend your diligence.”)

Deuce offers to help Trey serve the guests. He's clumsy as he goes about pouring tea and passing out treats, but he's trying his best! When Deuce gets to Rollo, he attempts to bow in reverence--but ends up smacking his head into Rollo's chin and spilling tea all over him instead!

... Needless to say, Rollo is NOT happy about it, especially not when Riddle intervenes with magic to clean him up against his wishes. Deuce apologizes profusely to him for the rest of the day.

With the abundance of sweets, poor Cater's suffering out here. He makes whatever excuses he can to shove off his desserts onto Rollo, gushing about how "We gotta spoil our guest with Heartslabyul hospitality! Go on, have some of Cay-kun's cakes!"

Riddle offers Rollo a strawberry tart as a sort of... peace offering? Rollo accepts it, but he takes only a small sliver from the whole tart and nibbles on that like a starving man might ration his last loaf of bread. It raises eyebrows, but Riddle wisely chooses to not comment. It doesn't go unnoticed by Rollo, who simply replies, "Everything in moderation."

There's some tension amongst the group, on account of what went down in the City of Flowers having been told to a few select dorm members. Ace in particular is eyeing Rollo suspiciously while he munched on a slice of cherry pie.

"This dorm can barely handle one anger-prone arsonist," he had told Deuce prior to the party, "now we're supposed to deal with TWO? You might as well just set the whole garden on fire to save us some time." (But to Ace's surprise, Deuce actually defended Rollo. "He deserves a chance to redeem himself! If I'm aiming to go from delinquent to honor student, then I should have the same faith in others to change too!")

Whenever Rollo has his back to the first years, Ace makes faces at him or mimics the uptight way Rollo sits—back straight, fingers laced, expression neutral yet stern. When Rollo looks back, Ace returns to acting like everything is totally normal.

Shockingly, it’s Rollo that makes the first faux paus of the afternoon. After the incident with Deuce, he requests coffee in lieu of tea, which earns audible gasps from around the garden. Rollo stares at all the mobs gawking at him as though he has committed a heinous crime. Riddle looks like he's going to strangle a cat. “… Have I said something out of turn?”

Trey intervenes with a fresh cup of tea and tells everyone to relax, whispering to Rollo that coffee is only for birthdays. Really, Trey ends up playing mediator for the entire party.

It's then that Rollo learns that there exists a set of rules penned by the Queen of Hearts herself. Riddle proudly declares that he knows all 810 of them by heart (and that he expects all of his dorm members to do the same to honor the Queen's spirit of strictness). "Oh? And just what might these rules be?" Rollo asks.

Riddle's more than happy to oblige with a looong lecture about the 810 rules. He starts a pop quiz on the spot to test Rollo, and, to everyone's shock, he answers each and every one of them correctly. "I guess you're not student council president of Noble Bell College for nothing," Riddle mutters. "You have an impressive memory." (In truth, Rollo only made an effort to perform well out of sheer spite.)

Cater mentions that he thinks Riddle and Rollo are a lot alike. This riles them both up, and they simultaneously shout, “In what way am I like him?!” (“Ooh, you even share the same thoughts. That’s big twin energy,” Cater laughs.)

While talking over tea, Cater learns that Rollo writes letters instead of using social media. "Eeeeh, there are people that live in this day and age without a Magicam account?! How do you survive..." Cater proceeds to spend the rest of the party chatting him up and trying to convince him to make an account so he can keep in touch (terrible, really--Cater is exactly the type of noisy, frivolous person Rollo detests), all the while Rollo tries his best to dodge questions.

The meal is finished without further (major) incidents--but roughly 15 minutes in, Riddle claps his hands and announces that everyone must leave the table, as per rule 271. Rollo starts to excuse himself, Trey lays a hand on his shoulder and beams. "We need one more player for croquet."

And so Rollo is dragged into playing a round with the Heartslabyul boys. He's told the rules and handed a red flamingo and hedgehog (both of which stare at him dubiously as he handles them as though they're diseased).

On his first turn, Rollo struggles to get his mallet and ball to behave! The flamingo keeps twisting its neck instead of staying straight for his shot, and the hedgehog keeps scampering away!! "Strange, they usually behave so well," Riddle notes. ("They must not like the cartoon supervillain vibes he's giving off," Ace grumbles in the background. "A-Ace! You can't just say that!" Deuce protests. "What if he hears?!")

His hedgehog sneezes when he at last punts it, which brings the game to a screeching halt as all the card soldiers burst out into song. (Rule 304, Rollo lamented. Why can't they be silent like unrung bells?! His blood pressure is rising, his ears ringing. He tries to focus on the match to distract himself.)

Over time, Rollo becomes more accustomed with how to get a control of his mallet and ball--he's back in the game! (It's not that he's particularly competitive, but he absolutely refuses to be outdone by these haughty NRC mages... especially not Riddle, who's smirking at him so smugly!)

Unfortunately for Rollo, he can't beat Riddle despite his best efforts--though he does manage to snag second place, pulling a little ahead of Trey. There's polite clapping from the other players to congratulate them (though a few look worried).

As Rollo is returning his equipment, a horrible realization dawns on him: rule 703: Whoever comes in 2nd place during a croquet match must serve tea to the Queen the next day. He slowly turns to Riddle, whose arms are folded expectantly. "I eagerly await my tea," the redhead tells him.

Rollo feels faint. He dabs at his forehead with his handkerchief in a vain attempt to dispel some of his dread. (It doesn't help one bit.)

Before he's able to leave, Cater pulls in him by the arm, his phone at the ready. "We should totes take a group selfie to commemorate the occasion~ Since you don't have a Magicam account, I'll print up a copy for you to pick up when you drop by tomorrow!"

Rollo doesn't have the chance to protest before Heartslabyul members crowd around him, squeezing in for the photo. It's hard for him to breathe, trapped between all these writhing bodies and surrounded by boisterous laughter.

He catches the eye of Riddle beside him and manages to choke out, "How you manage with this kind of madness every day, I'll never understand."

"It is mad, yes," Riddle says with a knowing smile, "and there are days when my dorm members drive me up the wall and leave me with no choice but to collar them in retaliation. Still... I think that's part of the fun. The chaos is ours to share. It's something I've never experienced in the small world I came from."

"Preposterous. There is no conceivable way anyone in their right mind would be endeared to this."

... Right?

Just as the tendril of doubt makes itself known… SNAP! The picture is taken, forever immortalizing the moment.

[smilingangel582]

Heey, I wanna write another lee!lyney and ler!wriothesley. I delayed that because writing my grizzly's -ahem Wriothesley's name is a bit lazy for me, hehe . anyway, I like to see them in bonding more, hehe

Spoilers for fontaine

Cure for boredom

I love the way they both pose so well... ehehehe

Once more. Lyney sighs, trying to build another trick with his cards but fumbles a bit as he tries.

He's been in the fortress for too long. After all the wallets haven't been found yet and recently only has the traveller helped him in various deeds.

"Ah, Mr. Lyney... I see you've gotten quite the good arm for tricks. " Lyney almost fumbles with his cards because of all people. He didn't expect Wriothesley to make a visit to his cell. Freminet and Lynette have taken it themselves to work in the production zone, so he's taking a day off today now here the Duke himself in front of him.

"Wrio -ahem your grace" Lyney greets politely, slightly awkward since he has been on bad terms with him, somewhat guilty for the commotion he caused. However they had tea once and seem to have build a better neutral relationship. Still... guilt is a funny thing...

"No need for titles, I always come around to see how prisoners make a living, so I was curious why didn't you back for tea"

The taller man's reply caught Lyney off guard. He seems confused to why Wriothesly is implying this "I... didn't see any reason for me to come back though?"

Too late... it came wrong. Lyney stammers back now stepping towards him "I didn't mean tk be rude"

The black haired guy chuckles now, waving it off. "Water under the bridge, honestly, I was teasing... I kind of liked it when you were fierce, or maybe when you are the confident magician"

He adds playfully. "To think you have a soft side like this..."

Blushing, Lyney might have become too nice. Sighing he gives a smile "Well... I'm honoured that you came to see me... I'm sure you have other pressing matters to attend to"

Wriothesley smiles "Are you trying to chase me away Mr. Lyney?"

Lyney widens his eyes, his new found confidence deflating "W-what no... I though..."

The cryo catalyst user is closer to him now leaning forward and making leaning, stumbling back and grabbing the wall "I must say that's quite the shame..."

Lyney growls a bit, turning away instantly, his arm still raised to grip the wall, "for someone who addresses me so formally, you are too touchy, your grace"

Wriothesley laughs. Of course, he loves the magician more when he's this snarky and honest. Seeing his eyes lower, he slowly wiggles his finger under Lyney's armpit, making the latter squeak and stumbled back, clutching his shoulder "h-hey!"

"I apologise but... Its rude to put your backs against your superiors, Lyney" dropping the honorific means business.

Lyney backs away when he see the tall figure slowly advance.

"W-What do y-you m-mehehehean hehehey why hehe are you tihihickling mehe!" Lyney stumbles back but Wriothesley catches him swiftly and still tickles his sides with the intention of making him squirm against the wall.

"Goodness, the little fatui member from the house od the hearth is actually ticklish?"

Lyney shrieked when he felt larger arms tickle his delicate armpits. "NOHOnoho! Ihihi am nohot!"

"Hm, very convincing... but you know the truth yourself Lyney"

"HAhaha why haha Wriothesley!"

The Duke shrugs. "Maybe because I'm a little upset thar you didn't come for to have some tea tea me... Ms. Lynette and Mr. Freminet offered me the liberty to do so."

"Eehehe whahaht? Ihihis thahahat ihihit?" Lyney squeals when his ribs began to be tormented and he squirms more to escape the playful touch "ok! Ok hahahaha PLEHEHEASE haha ill hehe stohohop by hehehe any time ehehe"

Satisfied and also seeing Lyney's red face, he stops and then pats his shoulder "there are people I'd rather have tea with... and one of them is you Lyney... I hope I'm not too forward... you must apologise but you should lighten"

Lyney sigh straightening his hat "Well I suppose I could come by and do dome magic tricks... offer our grace some entertainment..."

"Wpnderful..." Wriothesley gleefully place his hands together. Somewhat happy.

Lyney also mentally noted to extract his revenge along with that menu.

Short and sweet, but I hope it's ok, hehehe. Thanks for reading

[astralspen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHUUYAAAAAAA

OK SO I HAVE A FIC FOR HIS B-DAY BUT I PROBABLY WONT BE ABLE TO GET IT FINISHED AND POSTED TO AO3 UNTIL LIKE TOMMOROW OR WEDNESDAY SO ILL GIVE EVERYONE A LIL SNIPPET FOR OUR BIRTHDAY BOY

Now, normally, Dazai was never into celebrating. But today, oh today was different. Today, it was Chibi's birthday. Dazai had decided to skip work for the perfect chance at getting under the slugs skin today. He could deal with Kunikidas complaints on missing work pretty much all of last week tomorrow. He went into a brightly colored and well lit shop, and as swiftly as he came in, he was gone with a white plastic bag now in tow. He looked particularly cheery walking on the sidewalk, and he enjoyed his peaceful little stroll all the way to Chuuyas house. The closer he got, the more excited he became. He couldn't wait to see the slugs face when he barged into the orange haired man's apartment, and especially the face said man would make at the wonderful gift he was going to get.

Dazai had gotten to the door and then entered the pin to get in. Silly Chibi, never changing the lock code after all these years. He busted through the door, though he didn't break it this time. He would be a little courteous today, considering the date and all. Though, when Dazai didn't hear an angry slug yelling, or even him running over to the door to see what the noise was, he became a little confused. Was Chuuya really not off today? He thought that Koyou had convinced him to take the day off. Maybe it didn't work? But if that was the case, then why were the extra locks on the door not turned on?

“Chibi~ Where are you~ it's rude to hide from your owner you know!”

…

No reaction? Did something happen? Dazai finally actually stepped into the apartment, and carefully closed the door behind him. Then, cautiously, he looked around the apartment for any signs of the little slug. When he glanced over the couch, he saw Chuuya, but something was off.

Sure, he was in his hilariously adorable pajamas, and even wore the pants Dazai gave to him forever ago as a prank gift. The old joke mug was on the table too, but neither of those were really unusual. After all, Dazai had done this on Chuuyas off days before, and this part was actually relatively normal. He had teased Chuuya a lot about using old gifts from Dazai a lot. Nearly every time he visited, in fact. But no matter what, Chuuya still continued to use them religiously. Even on days Dazai stayed over, he would see Chuuya drinking out of the World's Best Dog mug calmly in the morning, see how he changed into those stupid sheep pants every night. No, what was weird was that Chuuya seemed out of it.

He was staring at an old picture in a worn wooden frame, and it was like Chuuya had lost all awareness of the world around him.

Now, that wouldn't do. How was Dazai supposed to sufficiently annoy the Chibi when he was like this? So he walked up right behind Chuuya, making sure to be silent so Chuuya wouldn't notice him and hide the picture. When he saw it, everything clicked. What did Dazai do in response?

He flung his arms around Chuuya from behind of course!

“Chibiiiiii! You can't neglect your owner like this! What's the point of visiting if my dear little dog won't even pay attention to me?”

Dazai had said it in his most sing-song and pouty voice possible. Chuuya had finally snapped out of it. And swung his head back to look at Dazai.

“huh!? What the hell, Mackerel!? The fuck are you doing at my place!”

“Your hat must have finally eaten your brain if you hadn't realized what day it is! Why wouldn't I visit my dear dog on such a special day~”

“stop calling me your fucking dog! Of course I didn't forget what day it is! I just thought you had the sense to remember that I don't fucking celebrate it. Did the agency finally make you lose all your damn sense?”

“Chibis so mean! I even bothered to get you a present, and you still bully me!”

There, Chuuya had finally put the picture down on the table.

“I swear to fucking God if you got me a replacement for that dumbass slug shirt I'm throwing you out the damn window.”

“Rude! I would never reuse the same joke!”

“Yes the fuck you would!”

“Hmph! Well, either way, I got you something even better!”

This was my first time grabbing a writing snippet so sorry if it starts and ends weirdly TAT Hope you like it though and of course Happy Birthday to our little mafioso!

[sofiiel]

Uncle Wayne being secretly in love with Eddie's mom, they had a few late night flings whenever she'd have a break-up with Eddie's dad. Which often happened, sometimes in the form of short 'breaks'.

The guilt of what he was secretly doing behind his brother's back eventually became too much, and Wayne puts an end to it.

But then, some time after their last intimate night together, Eddie's Mom is pregnant. It's within the time frame of her fooling around with Wayne, but his brother doesn't know that.

His brother thinks the kid is his, and he has no reason to suspect anything. Eddie's born, and he looks just like his mother. Wayne sits quietly watching the couple from a short distance.

When he is finally offered to hold baby Eddie, the newborn is crying up a storm. But Wayne's heart is instantly filled with love for him, he knows he is his kid as Baby Eddie opens his eyes and peers into Wayne's gaze.

Baby Eddie stops crying as he watches Wayne's face and listens to the sound of his voice. Wayne speaks softly to his new "nephew" and welcomes him into the world, vowing to always watch over him.

However, when Eddie's Mom marries Wayne's brother, it hurts a little too much. While Wayne tries to stay around, eventually he takes a trucking job. He is still able to visit Eddie, his brother and the woman he still loves deeply, but no longer has to face the hurt every day.

His brother is still oblivious, but Eddie's Mom does all she can to talk Wayne into staying. Her new husband isn't the fatherly sort and more than anything.... she's realized too late that she was in love with Wayne as well.

Now she feels trapped in marriage to a man who is nothing more than a friend.

Wayne leaves, he often visits and always sends Eddie and his mom hats and mugs from his travels across the states. He writes letters for Eddie to read when he gets older, and calls on the phone to chat once Eddie is old enough to listen and reply.

This continues for years until Eddie's mother falls ill. She can't be saved, and Wayne rushed back home after getting a letter from her. The letter held her love confession and all her regrets.

Wayne arrives back in Hawkins too late, he wanders the hospital to find a nine-year-old Eddie alone in the waiting room. Eddie is glad to see is "uncle" and hugs him. He's scared, and he doesn't understand why no one is telling him things.

Eventually, Wayne's Brother exits the room, he looks as if he's in another world and glares knives at Wayne. Wayne's heart feels painful, he knows she's gone. And he knows even though the relationship had become rocky, his brother did love her.

What Wayne didn't know was that she'd told him about the flings and had DNA testing done. She'd given the results to Wayne's brother. He held them clenched in one fist now.

Wayne attempts to comfort his brother and gets pushed back by the angry, broken man. His brother rages and swears as he hits at Wayne.

The nurses threaten to call security, but Wayne calmly talks them down.

Then he reaches out and draws his brother into a hug. Arms latched on as if to never let go. Wayne's brother begins to weep over his shoulder, clinging to his big brother.

Wayne doesn't say anything and lets him sob.

It doesn't last long, Wayne's brother gives him a shove that nearly knocks him to the ground and pushes the paper into his chest.

Wayne looks to Eddie, who is still waiting in quiet confusion.

"What about Eddie?" Wayne calls.

His brother says nothing and leaves through the doors.

Wayne tucks the paper away, he can look at it later, right now he had to tell Eddie the horrific news. And as the boy denies it and exclaims over and over that it's a lie, demanding to see his mom. Wayne stays to remain his pillar and just as he had for his brother, Wayne envelopes Eddie into a hug and carries his tears.

Eventually, when all matters are settled and the funeral is done, Wayne reads the paper, the DNA results. He's Eddie's dad. But he's not the father Eddie knew, even if they were close enough.

Wayne talks with his brother and the two comes to a rocky agreement to raise Eddie together. However, Wayne is not to tell Eddie the truth.

The death of his wife caused Wayne's brother to spiral in darkness, and eventually it leads to incarceration. Wayne would have to raise the 13yo Eddie alone.

But it goes better than either could ever imagine, and Wayne looks after Eddie like the father he is.

Until 86.

Wayne refurbished the ruined trailer, keeping Eddie's room the way he would have liked it, and Wayne would wait every day in front of the home with a nice cold beer for his son when he'd find his way home.

He worked extra shifts to buy back his old trucking rig, which he'd sold to a family friend to provide for Eddie. Wayne would need that truck so he could stay on the move with Eddie until the boy's name was cleared.

He had everything planned because he was coming home.

But months turned into years, and eventually Wayne surrenders. He can't stand the sight of Hawkins anymore and with a shattered heart he takes up trucking again.

Wayne lives in his truck, working nonstop because if he slows down he can feel all the pain. All the broken pieces.

And then, one hopelessly rainy night, Wayne comes across a hitchhiker. He looks homeless and dons a head of curly brown hair cut short, it's uneven everywhere as if he'd chopped it himself, and it was slowly growing out wonky.

His clothing is tattered by many rips, and he is soaked to the core.

The man asks for a ride, Wayne's hardly afraid and lets the young man climb in.

His voice shocks Wayne first as he goes to thank him, and as Wayne turns to look at who he'd let in his truck, the man speaks in an exhausted tone.

"Thanks man, you know my uncle was a trucker, Had a truck just like this, I'm trying to get bac-"

As the man looks into Wayne stunned face, his mouth snaps shut and his lips quiver.

"Well, I'll be da-" Wayne's works don't finish either as he arms lung out.

Eddie reaches towards the hug and just as he had many years ago, Wayne carried all his tears.

Wayne stops at a diner and gets Eddie fed, he rents a room at a motel, so Eddie can wash up and have a good night's sleep.

Eddie often wakes up and peers around to make sure Wayne's really there. When he sees his face through the dark, he settles back to sleep.

Wayne can see Eddie is clearly traumatized, and the two continue trucking around the states until Eddie is ready and confident about going home.

This day comes when the case of The Bone Snapper is closed and, thanks to Nancy Wheeler, Eddie's name is cleared.

Once back in Hawkins and given an official apology as well as an honorary, be it official, diploma, Eddie slowly falls into the swing of things again. Just happy to be among his friends.

Wayne tries to make better memories in their home. Eddie's got a job at the auto shop. Wayne's still at the plant. They're back to bowling every Wednesday, and Eddie's still kind of awful at it.

One day, Corroded Coffin gets their big break.

Eddie's going on tour and for a long time.

So Wayne sits him down and in his hand the slightly crumpled paper. Wayne shows the old DNA results to Eddie and explains everything. Wayne braces himself for Eddie's ire. Surely he'd be furious that this kind of secret had been kept from him.

Though Eddie simply chuckles and goes to his room, he opens a shoebox, pulls out an envelope and returns to Wayne.

You'd see his mother wrote Eddie a letter aswell, in fact she wrote him two. One explained how much she loved him, that one day she wouldn't be around physically but still in his heart, she told him her hopes and dreams for him, and she told him to promise:

"You won't open the second letter until you're 18"

However, Eddie hadn't thought about the second letter until he was 19. Even then, he only remembered after coming across it while doing some spring-cleaning and changing his room around.

That letter told him everything.

He'd known all this time.

"You were kinda my dad before I knew you were." Eddie says.

"Not just in the biological part, but just in normal everyday shit." He adds with a smile.

Eddie holds up the paper Wayne had given him, a grin on his face.

"This just means I can call you Pops from now on," he chuckles.

Meanwhile, Wayne's in an eternal battle not to cry. He gives Eddie's shoulder a pat, "well, you have fun out there." His says as Eddie gathers his things, heading out the door.

Wayne walks him to the van and watches him climb inside.

Eddie shuts the door when Wayne calls out to him.

Silence lingers for a beat as Wayne watches the boy he raised.

Then with a smile, he lifts his hand in a lazy wave, "proud of you, son."

[writingcold]

Hi there!  Welcome to Chapter 6!  If you’ve just joined us, here’s the master list.

This chapter is a little different.  Although we see all of our characters, this chapter is all from Croa’s POV.  

As always, a thank you goes out to @lvnterninthenight @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for your help in this process.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warning: Fluff.  That’s all I’m going to say because I need to just get this going… Cue your butterflies, though.  Yeah.  One of those Mr. Jacob chapters.

Word count: Approx. 6500 please pardon any errors.

Chapter Six: Dancehalls, Visiting, Drives, Cora POV

     Three weeks of the permanent posting and Cora felt like she had finally reached a point where she understood the full workings of both the mercantile area and the general good sections of the shop.  Renee had taken the time to give her small bits to improve and together they seemed to have found a rhythm that worked out better for the both of them.  She was also finally breaking through the ice with her counterpart, finding ways to actually engage with Renee in areas outside of the business.

     Her interactions with Jacob had become sparse.  He seemed to be absent for days, typically with Daniel.  She had been to supper with Samuel, Susannah and Molly where they did not make much mention of the two men at all.  When Cora did see him, it was brief with only a shared smile.

     Without Junie in the cottage, Cora had assumed all of her sister's chores that Matthew could not do during the day.  It extended her evening considerably to the point her mother expressed for her to quit the shop to care for Georgie and the house chores.  Cora scoffed at the notion, saying that would never happen, ensuring another argument that lasted a few days in the end.

     Junie had become a ghost.  Cora would inquire Mr. Archer about her on Sundays, to which he would say one of the children was ill and she remained home to care for them.  She tried to walk to the banker’s home after shop close, but was told that Mr. and Mrs. Archer were unavailable, even for family.  The loss she felt for her sister was difficult, leaving her to feel bruised.

     Friday found her sweeping the floors while Renee dusted the front displays when Mr. Kiszka strolled out to close the register.  His face seemed troubled and he did not speak as normal.  Renee was first to put away her apron and voice her leave.  Cora hung up her apron after she finished watching as he walked back to his office.  It was like the man was in a fog of thought.

     Walking from the shop, she debated trying to drop in on Junie once more or just to head for home.  Home would mean more work and probably another argument with her mother over her being in town.  She decided her heart could not handle the rejection from Junie’s home again.  Turning the corner, Samuel and Daniel were waiting, erasing all tracks of her internal debate.

     “Hello, doll,”  Sam greeted, his hat tipped way back on his head to allow a curtain of hair to fall against the side of his face.

     “Hi, fellas,”  she said, looking around to see if the ladies were with them.  “Where are your better halves?”

     Daniel smiled wide.  “Actually, we have an invitation for you from them.  They would like you to join us for supper and dancing tomorrow night.”

     She felt the corners of her mouth turn down.  “I don’t know.  Supper sounds lovely, but I have nothing to wear for dancing…”

     “Molly’s already got something waiting for you,”  Daniel cooed, his smile huge.

     “But it’ll be late - I can’t ask that you drive all the way out -”

     “Nope - Susannah has a spare room for you to stay in,”  Samuel said, matching the other man’s grin.

     “Oh, and you can walk to church with us and be with your family for services,”  Daniel finished with a satisfied nod.  

     “Did Molly give you a script to follow?”  Cora asked with a huff.

     “Maybe,”  Samuel said, a look of relief in his face.  “Come on, Cora.  Let us take you out - really out.”

     “I - uh-”  she shuffled a bit, but the idea of dancing with the new friends made her heart trip a few times.  “It sounds like fun.”

      Saturday morning at the shop opening, Mr. Kiszka was still heavy with thought.  She took a moment to realize that it was a concern that was troubling his dark eyes.  Cora returned the smile as he moved wordlessly to his office.  The day was a fast one.  She could scarcely take a moment to realize that the lunch break and the afternoon had skated by when the boss strolled back out of the office, the same distance etched in his eyes.  

     Cora wondered if there was a correlation between Mr. Kiszka’s muted tone and Jacob’s absence for the previous four days.  She took her wages with a nod and watched as he closed up the register.  

     “I hear that you are out on the night with Samuel, Daniel and the girls,”  he said as she reached for her personal items.

     She grinned.  “I aim to break toes, sir.”

     After a pause, his eyes drifted closed.  The air began to fill with a belly laugh that she was sure he needed.  “Be sure to have fun doing just that, lovely.  Good evening.”

     She held onto Daniel’s arm as they walked to the diner to sup.  Susannah and Molly were already there, ordered and waiting.  Their table was the loudest in the joint, but  Cora could feel the excitement for the dancehall prickling under her skin.  The heat of the happiness that touched her spread across her frame and discarded the eldest brother’s brooding of the past days.  After supper, they strolled across the town, parting so that the ladies could retreat to dress for an evening of dancing.

     The dress was a rich rose color with sheer cap sleeves and a tulle fringe at the end of the skirt that was fluffy, but held the same polka-dot print as the soft fabric that crossed her chest.  The torso was decorated with embroidered streams of roses and scrolled stem design on that same sheer layered tulle fabric that provided a solid effect, rather than the see through on the sleeves.  Cora stepped out of Molly’s room feeling like she was going to throw up from the frivolous and much more fancy feel of anything she had ever worn before.  She felt antsy as she planted her eyes on the floor, nervous that this dress would be too much for her.

     She was met with soft gasps and coos and the feel of Susannah and Molly’s hands on her wrists.  Cora looked up, knowing that her cheeks were probably the same color that currently resided in the garment.   

     “Oh baby girl,”  Molly sighed, eyes tracing across the lines of the dress.  “It’s like this one was made just for you.”

     Susannah was biting her lip to contain her smile a bit.  “May I do your hair?  I have something I want to try.”

     “I wish I could cut it,”  Cora admitted as she let herself be guided to a chair.  “I love the way Molly’s hair curls on her neck.”

     “Although that would be something on you,”  Molly started, her hand instantly against the finger waves on her neck, “There’s something to be said about…  Holy crow - how long is that hair, doll!”

     Cora blushed as the ends of her hair brushed against her bottom in soft waves.  Susannah disappeared only to return with an armful of stuff that made Cora feel a bit nervous.  “Josephine Baker uses this herself.  I saw her down in Chicago one time.  Lord, that mama is beautiful.”

     Tugging, pulling, stretching, smoothing, it seemed like it was an hour that Susannah took twisting and manipulating Cora’s locks into place.  When finished, she had a shine and waves against her scalp on the top, while her thick braids were coiled back and forth and around each other in an intricate, flat bun with about a thousand pins holding it in place.  She looked in the mirror and had to put it down for a moment.  When she looked back, she felt her mouth stretch in a broad grin.

     “I look like one of those ladies in the picture show,”  she said, in awe over Susannah’s work.

     “Yeah, yeah.  Let’s get outta here, kittens,”  Susannah remarked, but Cora could see the twinge of satisfaction flash in the woman’s eyes.  “The boys will be waiting.”

     Molly offered her a soft, cream colored wrap that was strewn with roses to pull over her shoulders as they made for the door.  They took their time, arm in arm, laughing about the evening and scaring Cora over what to expect.  By the time they reached the street corner that would lead them to the dancehall, the three were giggling over who was going to have to survive mashed toes as Cora learned to dance.  

     Danny was outside waiting, his face full of light as he greeted the three fast friends.  Cora was unsure of what to expect when she walked inside, holding tight to Susannah’s hand, but it certainly was not anything she was prepared for.  The hall was long and thin with tables running the length of both walls.  There was a small stage at the far end where a band was set up, its horns were just blaring while a man on the piano was nearly dancing across the bench he was sitting upon as he played.  Beside the stage was a soda fountain that spanned the corner with stools for patrons to sit and wait for the soda jerks to bounce to their demands.  The floor was all wide planks of rich dark woods and the walls were richly painted ochres, swirled with dark navy.  

      “Come on, baby girl,”  Susannah crowed, taking her by the hand and leading her out while Molly took their purses to a table manned by Samuel.

      Cora tried not to gasp as the woman grabbed hold of her hand and placed her own hand on the middle of her back.  She listened to the instruction, eyes turned down so as to watch their feet as they moved.  There was no notion of self-consciousness as Susannah guided her across the floor, around others who were enjoying themselves.  

      “It’s basically just walking together,”  she explained.  “And you can tell where I am leading you by the way I move my hand on your back, even though you are going backwards the entire time, I may turn you, shift you or even spin.”

     Cora turned her eyes up to look directly into Susannah’s light blue eyes.  She smiled as she pulled Cora in closer, and they started to move in an earnest foxtrot.  They were giggling within a few minutes when Cora realized she had not, indeed, murdered her friend’s feet.

     Molly appeared with an elegant tap on Susannah’s shoulder.  “Time for a waltz,”  she declared.

     Cora gritted her teeth.  “Molly, I’m not-”

     “Come on, dolly.  You’re foxtrot is all berries; time for something that will really make you the cat’s meow,”  she cackled as she brought her hands up and around Cora’s shoulder and into her hand.  “And it’s not like I’m trying to teach you any of those snappy jazz numbers.  I like my feet just fine.

     “This is just an easy 1-2-3, repeat but backwards,”  her friend said, nodding for her to look down at their feet.  “You shuffle, don’t lift your feet, and stay in line with my own toes.”

     “How am I supposed…”

     Molly continued to count the 1-2-3, but Cora felt the numbers in the music, matching it quite quickly.  Her friend breathed a laugh as they began to move in earnest.  It was more restrained, and required a little more grace than the foxtrot.  The tone of the music was similar but felt tighter.  She only misstepped a few times, each time yanking her foot back before she munched the woman’s toes.  

     “Just like the foxtrot, I can lead you by the way my hand presses against your back.  I can make it more complex if I…”

     She turned quickly, adding in a swirl that made both of their skirts flare out in a pretty way.  Cora blushed as her friend wiggled her eyebrows at her and yanked her closer until she was flush against her.  They turned and shuffled and turned and shuffled.  The hall was getting busier.  They laughed as Cora continued to struggle, but was slowly getting the dance.

     Sam grew brave and they foxtrotted across the floor to a number that sent her heart just fluttering.  His lanky frame was much more solid than she had imagined.  He turned and shifted in a more complex manner than Susannah had, that left her imagining that the steadies would be beautiful as they moved together in harmony.  Before she knew it, she was sitting at the table, sipping on tea watching the two couples move together through the crowd.  Their faces were warmed with conversation and sweet secrets that they shared.  

     “Come on, baby,”  a man said to her, holding his hand out.  “Let me show you how to really dance.”

     Looking into his sharp features Cora was hesitant to try her new skill with a stranger.  “Thank you, but no.”

     “Ah come on, sweetheart.  Don’t be like that,”  he pressed.  She watched as he leaned down and tried to take her hand into his.  “If you can dance with them two you can dance with a man.”

     Her eyes narrowed as she looked past him.  Her friends had no idea what was going on at their table.  They would not be able to assist her, not that Cora had any inclination on how to keep this man from forcing her out there.  Instead, she took a deep breath in.

     “Sir, I said no, thank you.  I am happy to wait for my friends,”  she said without looking at him again.

     His hand locked around her wrist and started to tug.  “And I said, if you’re good enough to dance with whores, you’re good enough to dance with me.”

     He yanked on her arm, getting her to stand up.  Cora yelped out, but yanked back trying to not allow him to pull her out any further.

     “Pardon me,”  Jacob’s smooth voice broke in, instantly capturing her attention, as well as the man’s.  “I’d appreciate you taking your mitt off the lady.”

     “Mr. Kiszka,”  the man said with a nod.  “Just lookin’ to dance this little one.”

     “I believe the lady said no,”  Jacob remarked, moving himself between Cora and the offending man.  “She said she was waiting for her friends - that includes me.  So, I’ll assume there will be no more confusion.”

     “Yes, sir,”  the man said as he was terribly antsy to get away.

     Cora righted herself, smoothing her dress down as Jacob stood in front of her.  He was wearing black pressed pants with a black suit coat, dark gray, paisley embossed vest and a stark white dress shirt with a black tie.  His hair was styled back, allowing that subtle wave to shine in the lowlights of the dancehall.  He turned to look at her, his eyes full of concern.

     He appeared like he was about to speak, but his mouth did not produce words.  His eyes wandered across her much in the same fashion that her own were taking him in.  Jacob was handsome, but at that moment, he did not seem like he was part of the world.  His hand reached out, looping his index finger with hers.

     He tugged and began to walk backwards towards the open floor.  Cora could not look away as he brought his hand up, folding it around hers in a firm hold.  His other hand slid across her shoulder, landing in between her shoulder blades.

     “I apologize ahead of time,”  she whispered.  “I’ve only just learned this.”

     She slid her hand up his arm letting it come to rest on his bicep.  He pulled her in until her frame kissed his own.  She released a soft breath as he paused, looking directly into her eyes.  Everything fell away.  It was just Jacob and Cora and the music.  She did not realize that they were moving across the floor.  Her whole focus was on his eyes as they looked upon her steadily and his mouth as she hoped for a few words to soothe her mind.  Instead, he brought his face closer, to the point where she could feel him breathing against the side of her cheek.  She breathed him in, all tobacco and mahogany.  

     Cora felt as he slid his hand lower to fall just below her shoulder blades as if to bring her in even closer.  “I almost thought that you were not real,”  he whispered.  

     “I don’t understand,”  she whispered back.

     “I couldn’t see the pretty that you bring to me in my days,”  he said, eyes on her mouth.  “But then, it’s just this…”

     He pulled her hand with his so as to drag a fingertip down her jaw line before returning it to form.  His other hand ghosted down the shallow curve of her side, before once again it was also returned to form.  Cora felt her breath escape her in a slow, torturous wave not to be returned to form until his eyes met hers once more.

     “This is the beauty that you keep hidden,”  he finished.

     Her lips parted as she absorbed what was being said to her.  “No one has spoken to me like that.”

     His gaze fell to her mouth as his brows pinched with thought.  She heard him inhale softly, cuing her own breath as he squeezed her against his body even closer.

     “I've never been anyone's first... I'd like to be yours,”  he finally said, lips nearly to her ear, the heat of him dancing on the delicate skin.

     Cora felt her mind freeze at the man’s connotations and how the simple words made her heart burn within her chest.  The rest of the night, she was held, turned, and danced by Jacob.  His eyes were hypnotic while his hand on her back burned a hole in her dress.  They spoke little and always in the polite end of the pool: how her family was, how Matthew would like to see the Earl again, and about his family that was still down south in the state and how he missed them.  He asked about Junie and was dismayed that she had yet to see her sister since the wedding.

     They left the dancehall after the crowd thinned considerably.  The laughter they shared rang out in the night as they walked towards the garage.  Jacob walked close to her, his finger lopped with her own like a tether.  He held her back as the couples moved towards the Kissel.

     “This is where I have to leave you,”  he said with a nod.  “Did you have fun tonight?”

     She nodded as his face warmed in the moonlight.  “Are you not coming with us?”

     “I will be staying with Joshua,”  Jacob said, looking back at the others.

     “I did not realize he was-”

     He grinned as he took her hand and leaned in to speak only to her against her ear.  “I want you to stay with me tomorrow after church services.  We planned on stopping in on the Archers,”  he said, allowing her to process what he was saying.  

     Cora felt her stomach tighten.  To be given the gift of seeing Junie made her catch her breath as he pressed his cheek to her own.  “Thank you,”  she whispered.  

     The narrow bed that she claimed in Susannah’s was hard but welcoming.  Thoughts of the evening swirled through her brain, keeping her awake but draining her all the same time.  The heat of Jacob against her body sent shivers through her mouth.  She could still smell his skin, feel his touch against her body and it made her think of what more could be like with the man.  How his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her made her blush.  She tried to imagine what his kiss would feel like, taste like.  It was the last of the night’s images she conjured as she drifted off into the darkness of her sleep.

     In the morning, Cora was dressed in her church dress and making coffee when Samuel tapped on the door before walking in.  His youthful face was lit with sunshine and his smile was contagious as he offered his arm and a walking partner to church services.  Jacob and Joshua were already in the main hall while Daniel was waiting outside for them.  Rosemary and the boys were sitting in their typical row.  Cora waved at Georgie who beamed at her as Jacob moved towards her.  His warmth invaded her skin despite the distance between them.  She smiled in her greeting and was rewarded by him looping his index finger with hers with a little squeeze before following Josh and the others to his waiting seats.  

     Services were long.  Pastor Butterman was spending an inordinate amount of time about the importance of community support of their young people - the support of young marriages.  Blowing out her cheeks, she settled into another sermon that she largely ignored.  After services, Jacob was the first to catch them before leaving. 

     “I will ensure that she returns home safe, Mrs. Janas,”  Jacob was saying to her mother who was eyeing her skeptically.  “My brothers and I will be making our Sunday rounds, the Archer household included.”

     Cora was watching him as he spoke, his eyes nowhere but on her mother the entire time, his face a vision of calm.  “I would be able to see Junie, Mama,”  she said, drawing her attention away for a moment.  

     “You will have her home before dark, Mr. Kiszka,”  Rosemary said with a firm tone.

     “Yes, of course, ma’am,”  Jacob said as he held his elbow out for Cora to take.

     She smiled and waved at her brothers.  Georgie broke away from Matthew and rushed at her.  She heard Jacob let out a quiet laugh as she picked up the smallest of them and hugged her fiercely.  

     “Sister,”  the little one sighed into her neck.  “Come home.”

     “Going to go see Junebug,”  she said with a smile.

     The boy’s big eyes filled with the heat of his smile.  “I want to see her, too.”

     “Soon, baby,”  Cora soothed, rubbing on his back.  “Go home with Mama and I’ll see you tonight.”

     She set Georgie down and watched as the boy took off across the expanse to reach the Kilbourne wagon.  Mr. Kilbourne looked at her holding onto Jacob with an ill eye.  

     “He really doesn’t…”  he started, realizing that the man was not going to move from the bench of his cart to help her mother into the back.

     Cora watched as he hurried forward before Rosemary could crawl into the wagon.  Instead, he called out to Matthew to wait.  She inhaled sharply as Jacob assisted her mother, followed by each of the siblings into the wagon to leave.  He paused at the side, trading a word with the farmer that was obviously not kind.  Cora swallowed as Kilbourne seemed to pale a bit before stoically snapping to reins.  

       The church was on the north east corner of town.  They walked arm in arm, down the main thoroughfare towards the more affluent southwestern corner that the businessmen of the community had claimed.  They passed the street that would lead them to the bungalows.  Cora looked down the row of tidy homes.  Jacob smiled at her.

     “You like those little places, don’t you?”  he asked simply, patting her hand on his elbow.

     She nodded, but they moved on quickly.  The first house they visited was their own.  Mr. Kiszka walked inside the wide foyer without a glance behind.  Cora felt very small standing on the stoop with Jacob before he led them inside the light maple clad space.  Her entire cottage would fit within the entry and her face burned at the thought.  

     “This is…”  she felt like even her voice was intrusive on the craftsmanship of the space.  “This is lovely.”

      “Just for show, Cora.  It’s still eight squares shoved together, and boxes up on top,”  Jacob said as he watched his twin return with a handful of papers.  “Archer’s are first.  Are you ready?”

      She smiled and nodded as they moved out of the house and walked down the block.  The homes grew a bit more modest but still very polished.  They moved up the manicured walk of a tall white affair with black shutters and door that she had visited many times before only to be turned away.  The breeze kicked up before they reached the front of the home, making the ruffles of her dress swish against her.  The door opened wide, admitting all of them.  Cora caught the lady’s eye who had turned her away many times before and she tightened her hold on Jacob’s elbow.  He made no acknowledgment of the change, but he remained close to her as they moved through to the room just off the wood and plaster clad foyer with a simple staircase that rose up in a sway to the second story.  

     “Miss,”  the housekeeper said politely as the gentlemen seemed to be in residence in the main parlor.  “Please, come with me.”

     Jacob smiled at her with a whispered ‘see you soon’.  Nervously, she followed down the wood paneled hall towards the back of the house.  She could hear a few feminine voices speaking softly, but not her Junie.  The housekeeper’s dour face turned on her before pointing her open hand towards another parlor.  There were three well dressed ladies she had recognized from church, but could not recall their names.  Junie sat nearly in the corner, her face forlorn.

      “Junie?”  Cora called softly, moving towards her in quick steps.

      The girl’s once bright eyes rolled up onto her in surprise.  Her face seemed to have aged considerably in the weeks after the wedding.  Her smile was not as wide and her gaze was guarded as she gained her footing.

      “Is it really you?”  Junie asked as Cora dragged her close in a tight hug.  “Sister?”

      She felt an uncomfortable shift as the ladies stopped talking.  Cora looked into her sister’s tired face, trying to figure out what had happened to her that would make her seem so tattered.

     “Ladies, I do not wish to be rude, but you will excuse us,”  Junie remarked, taking Cora by the hand and leading her out of the room and down the rear hall to the  garden.

     Cora wrapped her arm around her sister as they stood side by side with their backs to the house.

     “I am so glad you are here,”  Junie whispered.   

     “I have missed you terribly,”  Cora said, unable to keep her smile growing huge.  “The boys ask about you everyday.”

     They slowly returned to the point before the wedding, talking back and forth, finding the smiles and the lightness that both missed.  Cora was telling her about Georgie’s plan of bringing her back to the cottage.  She felt herself choking on the laugh as Junie impersonated the boy’s big eyes and hands on her face.

     “I never thought that I would miss that boy like I do,”  Junie remarked, moving closer to the row of hedges.  “And what about Mr. Jacob?”

     Cora grinned.  “He’s the reason I am here today.  We danced the whole night last night and then he told Mama he wanted me to go visiting with him today.”

     “Next he’ll be asking her to date you, I’m sure,”   she said, eyes straying to the windows behind Cora.

     She saw how her sister’s shoulders slumped a bit.  Looking behind, she saw Mr. Archer and Jacob standing at the open glass doors.  Junie took her hand into her own and pulled her close.  

     “I love you, Sister,”  she whispered, holding on tightly as the door opened.

     “I love you, Junebug,”  Cora whispered back, noting that the girl’s body was literally trembling.  “I promise, I will come see you during the week as long as the housekeeper will allow me inside.”

     Mr. Archer’s smile was condescending.  “I apologize, Miss Cora, if there has been confusion.  I was not aware that you had tried to visit.”

     “It’s only been a few times, sir,”  she said, noting that his eyes would not meet her gaze, just like he would not truly look at Junie either.

     “It will not happen again, be assured,”  he remarked with a nod.

     “Cora, are you ready?”  Jacob asked, offering his elbow.

     He held her hand in place as they moved back through the house to the front door.  The brothers had already moved on.  Jacob turned back towards the shop.

     “I have been given a reprieve from visiting with Joshua,”  he said with a grin.  “Would you like to go for a drive with me?”

     “I would like that very much,”  she answered.  “Thank you for helping me to see Junie.”

     “My pleasure,”  he said as they walked back towards the garage.  “Is she well?”

     “Junie was always sickly from little on,”  Cora said, her eyes straying behind them back to the Archer home.  “I never thought I would see her actually look in such a terribly frail fashion.”

     “Perhaps it is just the newness of her marriage,”  Jacob offered kindly.

     “Perhaps.”

     He walked her towards the Kissel, not the Earl.  She paused and he smiled shyly.

     “Samuel is working on the Earl and I’m not allowed to touch her at the moment,”  he said as he opened the door for her.

     It felt strange sitting in the front, but as he slid behind the wheel, it was hypnotic to watch as he shifted the vehicle and moved it along.  They headed east out of town.  His face was relaxed as he drove.  Cora turned her face towards the wind as it kissed at her cheeks and colored her lips.  He reached across the seat, looping his pinky in with hers.  She glanced down at the touch, something that he had repeated through her memory.  Such a simple touch.  A simple conveyance.  She closed her eyes to better feel the grounding effect that it had on her.  

     They drove through winding fields and dense woods that she was sure they would certainly be lost in.  He plowed forward, his eyes ever steady on the road.  They continued on for nearly an hour.  Cora felt drowsy.  Looking at him, she found that Jacob was looking back at her.

      Another fifteen minutes, they arrived in the city of Norway.  Cora had only heard of the town, having never been further than Kingsford.  They stopped at a little cafe that had coffee and sandwiches.  He pulled the chair out for her as she sat.  Jacob took off his hat and set to the side as they waited.  

     “Tell me about what happened to your father,”  he said as they sipped their drinks.

     She smiled sadly.  “Papa liked to think of himself as a gentleman farmer.  His family settled in New York.  Up by Albany.  He was an educated man.  He even taught college for a spell.”

     Jacob set his cup down with a nod.  “What made him leave New York?”

     “Not sure,”  she answered, her eyes watching the plates as the waitress lowered them to the table.  Jacob said a quiet thank you before turning his attention back to her.  “He liked open spaces more than the classroom and city, I guess.  He worked a farm in Pennsylvania before meeting Mother.  They had me before getting the place in Breitung Township - now it’s Kingsford.”

     “Your family has a farm here?”

     She took a small bite of the tomato and cucumber sandwich.  Her heart sank as she negotiated through the rest of the story.  She explained that half of Mr. Kilbourne’s current farm, including the pretty white house they lived near, was actually the Janas farm.  They were doing very well with hay and potatoes.  When her father returned from the war in 1919, he was different.  His mind was different.  Physically he was different.  The family began to struggle and he wound up borrowing from Mr. Kilbourne as the bank would not secure him a loan.  After the Ford plant was built, the bank had gotten picky about loans to farmers.  There were a few bad harvests that really made things a bigger struggle for the family as a whole.  

     “My father never really returned,”  she said quietly.  “He tried.  Mama said he died of being broken over there.  He had injuries in his lungs from something that working in the earth made worse.”

     Jacob reached across the table and touched her hand, running his fingertips over the back before squeezing it as a whole.  

     “Mr. Kilbourne took the house as partial payment of the debt my father incurred, as well as all the land,”  Cora continued, staring at a spot on the table.  “Mother made arrangements for the two of us to work as laborers to finish off the debt.  We moved into the cottage and have been there ever since.”

      A soft curse escaped his mouth.  “How long until the debt is paid?”

     “Well, if I had not gotten that posting in your family’s shop, it would have been about two more years.  But,”  she said, straightening up and feeling proud, “I’ll have it cleared before the end of autumn, certainly before mid-winter.  And I’m hoping that we can move into town after that.”

      “One of those little bungalows, huh?”  he asked with a smile.

      She nodded.  “I’d just be happy with a house that didn’t want to kill us every time the weather turned.”

     He grinned at her from across the table.  They finished their simple meals.  Cora liked how close he walked as they moved back towards the car.  When he opened the door, he paused, catching her hand fully with his own.  Cora’s mouth twitched in a smile as his expression changed.  His eyes traced across hers.  He leaned close, the tip of his nose grazing her cheek.

     “I’d very much like to kiss your mouth, Cora,”  he whispered.

     Her lips parted as her breath escaped her.  His gaze softened as his finger traced down her jaw.  She barely nodded, her nerves stabbing in her torso like lightning.  He skimmed his lips across hers before cupping her cheek and pressing their mouths together.  Panic gripped her as she breathed him in.  Never.  Never had a man kissed her mouth.  Never had a man drawn her bottom lip in between his own lips.  Her heart was thundering as he opened his eyes while still so close to her as if looking through her soul.  She shivered as he withdrew, only to watch as he leaned in once more.  He pressed against her again, his hand dragging down and back on her neck pulling her impossibly closer.  The heat of his body flooded her.  Her mind raced.  Her hands moved across his arms and finally landed on his chest, her fingers finding purchase on the lapels of his coat.  A little hum escaped him as he pulled her bottom lip deeper into his mouth.  She felt the tip of his tongue swipe over it.  Her body wanted more.  Her brain was melting against the stimulation.  He broke their contact only to press once more, this time, repeating with her upper lip, slotting their mouths together sweetly.  

     Cora felt her stomach flutter as he withdrew.  His eyes looked smoky as a grin tugged the corner of his mouth.  He held her hand as he aided her into the car.  Her mind felt like it was drenched in fog.  The emotions toiled within, knowing that there was more she wanted but had no idea how to voice those words to him.  She liked it.  She liked the way he kissed her.  She liked the slow, soft heat of his mouth.  Cora felt her cheeks warm with the thought of it, but did not hide that she was indeed pleased.

     The ride back towards Kingsford did not follow the same path as the one they had taken.  Instead, it was through mostly woods and rolling hills.  Cora was taken by the green and lush beauty.  They reached a spot that was at a crest that Jacob pulled off, but made no move to exit the automobile.  He drew in a heavy breath as his eyes focused on the horizon.  

     “It’s really something during the autumn,”  he said quietly.  “I come up here to think.  Or when I need the escape.”

     “It’s beautiful,”  Cora said, pushing the door open and sliding from the seat before he could make a move.  

     The crunch of stones under her shoes made her smile.  The wind was strong, but it carried the deep woods smell on it in the most delicious manner.  She liked the feel of it against her body, blowing her skirt back out behind her.  She pictured herself looking much like a full sail on the ships out on Lake Superior.  Her hands left her sides as if she could give herself over to the wind.  A hard gust struck her, knocking her back into Jacob.  His hands caught around her waist pulling her frame tight against his own.  A laugh escaped her as he anchored her to the ground.

     “I’m afraid if I let you go.  You’ll fly away,”  he said, making her laugh all the more.  “You’re like one of those finches down there.  All beautiful and full of light.”

     She grinned at his strength and how he held her - not constraining but supporting.  Her eyes traveled down the ravine and found the yellow finches that seemed to be dancing on the wind, singing their own song of wonder.  Trusting that he would not move, she leaned back against him and was rewarded with his arms looping fully around her middle.  

     “I better get you home,”  he whispered against her ear.  “I don’t want your mama angry with me.”

     He took her hand, leading her back to the car.  “Why worry about her?”     “If I want to ask her to court you, I don’t want to give her any reason for her to say no,”  he answered with an honest smile.

    “Court me?  How very old fashioned of you, Jacob.  Can’t we just go out on dates?”  she teased as she climbed back into the Kissel.

     “I need to do this right, Finch,”  he said quietly, touching her cheek before closing the door.

     Her heart stuttered at his touch.  The notion that he was already formulating a softly traditional path made her blush with romantic notions that she and Junie would fawn over months earlier.  Jacob lit a smoke before sliding behind the wheel.   He smiled with a ‘let’s get you home’.  Once through the gears, he looped his fingers through hers, tugging her closer on the seat.  The thoughts from weeks before returned: if given the choice of path to take, she would pick Jacob.  She looked over at him just as he glanced at her.  The way her cheeks heated, she knew her thoughts were her truth.  She would pick him without doubt, without hesitance.  

Pardon my sappy smile.  I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  We’re starting to get into the meat of the story.  Next time, we’ll be reunited with Molly and Susannah.  Last week I was able to pull off two chapters - what do you think - should I try to keep that up?  Let me know in the comments! Thanks

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[wheels-of-despair]

What You Deserve | Leonard Bast x You | Series Masterlist

Once upon a time, a boy entered a bookshop...

Part Two: Is That Fair? Words: 1.7k Date: Friday, December 22, 1911

Over the last year, you had fallen completely in love with a man named Leonard Bast.

He came to your father's bookshop every Friday. On his first few visits, he'd browsed for fifteen minutes and talked to you for the remaining forty-five. But then, after a while, he'd just accept the book you'd chosen for him and spend the whole hour discussing last week's read, or a classic, or the symphony he'd recently attended, or a highly lauded stage play nobody seemed to be able to acquire tickets to. You laughed, and you joked, and you looked forward to that hour with him all week long.

He was brilliant. He was passionate. He was handsome. He was the sort of man people wrote novels about. And tonight, you were finally going to tell him how you felt about him.

Your older sisters had teased you about your preference of books to men for years. They said that reading too much had made you romanticize men to the point that no real one would ever suit you. But they'd married the first boys who showed interest in them and moved out of your family's cozy home above the bookshop as soon as they could. What did they know? They certainly didn't know about your Friday evenings with Leonard Bast.

He was your most treasured secret. That hour alone with him on Friday evenings was always the best part of your week, but it wasn't enough. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him.

He was always on your mind. When you read a new book, you wondered what he'd think of it. When you made dinner, you wondered if he'd like it. When you curled up by the fire to read, you imagined leaning your head on his shoulder. And sometimes in bed, when the fire died down and the chill of the night crept in, you wondered what it might be like if he were there to keep you warm.

It was a flawless plan, really. You'd take him into the storage room in the back to show him the pile of books scheduled to go out on a sale cart tomorrow, and offer him first shot at the bargains. Once Leonard had made his selections, you'd wrap them in brown paper so they'd be easier to carry, and slip in your favorite book of poetry. As a bookseller, you were typically against writing in books, but this was an exception. You'd written an inscription to him inside the front cover and included several notes throughout that you thought would be meaningful to him.

Writing your feelings on a page in a well-loved book felt much safer than just telling him how you felt.

You watched the clock and the door, waiting for him to hurry in like he always does. Even though he doesn't need to rush anymore, it seemed like he was always in a hurry to get here. You like to think it's because he was as happy to see you, as you were to see him.

Your face breaks into a smile when you spot his red ears holding up his ill-fitting hat, probably frozen from the cold December air. He steps inside, wipes his feet, and smiles at you.

"Mr. Bast! I was hoping to see you today."

"Me?" he asks, in mock-surprise, like he always does.

"Of course," you smile, keeping up your little game. The clock chimes, and you leave your place at the counter to lock up. Mr. Bast is the only customer in the store. He hangs his hat and coat on the rack as the lock clicks.

"Do you have a good one for me today?"

"Even better," you smile. "Follow me."

You lead him through the store and to the storage room, where a cart is packed with books that are priced to sell.

"What's this?" Mr. Bast asks.

"Sale cart," you explain. "Jimmy's taking it out tomorrow, in hopes of clearing out some inventory before the post-Christmas flood of unwanted gifts."

Jimmy, the teenage son of one of your father's friends, was an occasional employee. A few times a year, you'd pack up the cart of books that had been shelved for too long, and send Jimmy to sell them on the street. He was friendly and talkative, which made him an excellent salesman. He also had a very obvious crush on you, and your sisters had teased you about your "young lover" relentlessly when they found out.

This cart is what led Leonard to you. He'd spotted it on the street one day, bought all he could afford, and was given a business card with the store's address on it with the promise of more discounted books. It was quite a walk from his place of work, and he'd struggled to make it on time… until you developed your Friday routine.

"But the sale doesn't start until tomorrow?" he asks, picking up a book to inspect it.

"For you, it starts now."

"Is that fair?" he asks, worry on his face.

"Consider this a Favorite Customer Preview Sale. Tomorrow, people will buy random books for friends and relatives as Christmas presents, because they are inexpensive and easy to wrap and appear to be thoughtful. You are one of the few customers who will concern themselves with the content of the books, and not the fact that giving the gift of a book makes you look superior. Please, good sir, shop to your heart's content."

He looks from you, to the cart, and back to you. You sigh and try again.

"Mr. Bast, I am expected at my sister's house on Christmas Day. Her children are expecting a fun aunt who wants to play with them. If you do not leave this shop with an armful of books today, I will consider myself a failure of a saleswoman. And if I am a failure, I will be unable to enjoy my time with my sister's children on Christmas. Think of the children, Mr. Bast."

He laughs.

"Too much?" you ask, cracking a smile.

"Most definitely," he grins, finally stepping closer and inspecting the cart full of books.

With your assistance, he picks out five books to add to his collection. At this price, not even Leonard Bast can pass them up. He passes you a few coins, and you drop them into your pocket with a jingle.

You'd eventually noticed the frays in his clothing and his well-worn shoes and the loose seams in his hat. He hid them well, but he needn't hide them from you at all. You're a seller of used books. You know that a good story is a good story, no matter what condition the cover is in. The same applies to people.

"Shall I wrap these up for you?" you ask, trying to mask your nervousness.

"Alright," he smiles.

You take the books over to the table, where you keep the brown wrapping paper. You let him ramble about the one he's most excited about while you wrap his selections - plus the book of poetry. You distract him by mentioning another title that may be on the cart, and slip the gift into his stack when he goes to check. You hope it brings him back to the shop tomorrow, rather than a week from now. You can't wait to hear his thoughts on it.

He takes his wrapped package with a warm smile, which you return. If he only knew…

You make your way to the storage room's door, and he pauses to let you exit first. You reach back in to close the door after he enters the hallway, and when it clicks shut, you notice that he's staring upward.

Someone has put mistletoe in the doorway.

You look into his big brown eyes, an explanation on the tip of your tongue - you don't know how it got there, honestly - but no words are spoken.

You feel yourself drawn to him.

You lean in slowly, and he does too.

You close your eyes as your lips finally meet Leonard Bast's in a sweet, chaste kiss. Your heart flutters. Your brain buzzes.

You want to do this every day for the rest of your life.

You can't control your blissful smile as you pull away…

But Leonard Bast is not smiling.

Panic sets in. What's wrong? Were you bad at it?

"I'm sorry," he says. What is he sorry for? You both clearly wanted this. You've been dancing around it for a damned year. "I have a wife."

Your heart drops into your stomach.

"A what?"

"I have a wife. This isn't fair to her."

A wife? He's never mentioned a wife. You're sure of it. He's told you all about his parents, and his brother the lay-reader, and his two married sisters who were older and had never been very close to him. You absolutely would've remembered him mentioning a wife.

You felt faint. You leaned against the wall and closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing.

When you opened your eyes, Leonard Bast was gone.

Your father returned soon after. He found you in the hallway outside the storage room, sitting on the floor with tear-stained cheeks and staring into nothing. He thought you'd been attacked, and was preparing to summon the police when you finally found your voice. You were fine, you lied. Just had a bad day and a lot of demanding customers. It's nearly Christmas, after all, and people were desperate to finish their shopping.

He scraped you off the floor and took you upstairs to revive you with tea and biscuits. But it didn't help. Nothing helped.

Mr. Bast didn't come back.

You and your broken heart carried on, trying not to wonder what Leonard Bast would think of this book or that one. You tried not to worry about what he was doing, or who he was doing it with. You tried not to care. He was gone. He was nothing to you. Just a man you'd sold some books to.

Once upon a time, Leonard Bast had been your best-kept secret. Now he was just a ghost inside your head.

[sarnai4]

The (Dis)Agreeable

I'm not sure if this is a hot take or not, but it goes against some of the things implied in the series (spoilers for RTTE). I don't think Oswald the Agreeable was a good father.

The show paints him as this peaceful, friendly man who never wanted wars and loved his kids. Sounds great, but I find contradicting evidence in the episodes.

There is something to be said about young Dagur's conduct with people. I get it that he's got probably a cocktail of mental illnesses, but that doesn't mean that he's incapable of acting in nonviolent ways. We see him do just that later. So, why was he not told as a kid, "No, don't try to drown your friends. That's mean and dangerous. Don't put people in cages and feed them cod heads." etc.? I feel like the first part at least was never told to him because he didn't act like him almost drowning Hiccup was in fact a scary experience for the younger Viking. Not saying that Oswald needed to watch his every move, but Dagur isn't a shy person. He's noticeable. If he's doing something (assuming his goal isn't to be sneaky, which it didn't seem to be with that drowning attempt), you're going to see/feel/hear him. Why not just sit him down and explain what's right and wrong? Dagur recalls being told to not do things like chase chickens and have axes, but I'm not sure if there's really a reason given behind it vs just knowing that his father didn't want him to do that.

And then there's Ansson. If you've read my previous post, you know I think he's at least 8 years older than Dagur. That makes me wonder where Oswald was during all that. This begins tying into another point. His relationship with Dagur must have been pretty bad if the other Berserkers actually thought Dagur killed him. Aside from the implausibility of Hiccup being able to, if he said he killed Stoick, people would be shocked because they know the two Vikings care about one another. No one seemed to bat an eye with this. "Dagur killed his old man? Yeah, figured that was just a matter of time." What were their interactions like if something so violent just made sense? To address a counterargument, maybe they just believed this because of Dagur being who he is. Fair, but here is the major issue: they never should have been able to think Dagur killed Oswald.

Where did Oswald go? We know he shipwrecked on Vanaheim, but where was he headed and why? Clearly, Dagur wasn't with him if he got lost out on sea. Dagur also didn't know where he was. No one else did either. Therefore, it implies that Oswald left home without telling anyone. I doubt this was to sign a treaty since that was stated that he'd bring Dagur along and I'm assuming the other Berserkers would know. So, why did Oswald suddenly leave without telling anyone where he was going? As both a father and chief, that's irresponsible. They have 50k soldiers, so who knows how many overall Vikings they have when you take into account kids, the elderly, and whoever just wasn't a soldier? Oswald left Dagur with all of these people. It's obvious that the boy wasn't ready. We saw how well that first year of being a chief went. At least, I'd expect him to tell someone, but no one knew. This sounds like he didn't just go out, he left. Oswald left and had no intention of coming back.

Then, you have "The Search for Oswald...and Chicken." There are a few things which are said here hat bother me. The letter itself was strange since Oswald mentioned Dagur protecting Heather even though she was a small child when she was lost and given the annual nature of the treaty visits, Oswald would have left long after she was missing. I think this is just a case of a plot hole that no one caught, but if we make it canonical, it's him fantasizing about his preferred life. He might have gone mad on that island. I can think of no other reason for him to write a letter about and to the daughter he'd no longer had on their home for years. Along that line of thinking, I doubt we can trust that his positive words to his son were genuine as opposed to being due to his false memories. Even in another part of the letter, it's sad because he mentions Dagur growing out of his "crazy, destructive" phase/stage. Dagur sort of gives a sheepish smile and it's played as a joke, but that's really sad. His son is mentally ill and he's just hoping he grows out of it like it's a papier-mache phase.

But what's the saddest part to me is Dagur's thoughts and beliefs regarding his father. After the corpse is found, Hiccup says, "He loved you" and Dagur responds, "I guess we'll never know." That is heartbreaking to me. Hiccup could have said, "He'd forgive you" or "He'd understand" and I would accept Dagur's words. That would be fine. With someone dead, you have no way of truly knowing if they'd understand why you did something or if they'd agree. That said, you should know that someone loves you. It's not something you should need to confirm when the person in question is a parent. I know this happens in real life, but a healthy parent-child bond should have both parties know, "Yeah, they love me. Even if we disagree, we love each other." Dagur makes it explicitly clear that he and Oswald don't have that type of relationship since he didn't know if Oswald loved him.

Therefore, between not being a teacher or protector in Dagur's childhood, having a relationship that feasibly could have ended in patricide, abandoning his son to lead tens of thousands of Vikings, believing his mental state was a temporary inconvenience, and not making letting it be known that he was loved, I believe that Oswald might have been agreeable, but he also was a bad father.

[if-marciade]

MEET THE LOVE INTERESTS

Clyde Ramsay - The Partner

Clyde is your partner that accompanies you on your visit to Fort Alexandria. His dream is to practice medicine and help those in need. As a black man in the 1890s, however, not many hospitals are willing to give him a well-paying position. When he sees your request in the paper for help in investigating a mysterious illness, he jumps at the opportunity. Who knows; maybe this will give Clyde the experience he needs to be considered for a spot as a physician. Incredibly intelligent, ambitious and a tad bit shy, Clyde will surely stick by your side as you both work to uncover the mysteries behind the small town of Fort Alexandria. Will you be there to help him achieve his dreams?

Clyde stands at 5ft 9in and has dark, closely-cropped hair. He has rich brown eyes, dark skin, thin glasses and almost always has his pocket notebook at the ready.

Thomas McMann - The Deputy

Thomas is the new deputy of Fort Alexandria. He is one of the town's most hardworking citizens and takes his job very seriously. Despite Thomas' dedication to his work, he is beyond friendly and courteous to townsfolk and newcomers alike. When he isn't busy surveying the outskirts of town or filling out paper after paper, he is looking after his six-year-old daughter Scarlett. As you get to know Thomas, you will grow to realize that beneath his friendly demeanor, there lie ghosts from his past that weigh heavily on his psyche. Will you be the one to uncover Thomas' secrets?

Thomas stands at 6ft 2in and has dark brown, slightly wavy hair. He has deep blue eyes, pale, freckled skin and almost always has a gun in his holster.

Ruth Davenport - The Bartender

Ruth is the local bartender at the Dusty Pointe Inn. Friendly to everyone but trusting of none, Ruth is a regular source of both information and comfort throughout your stay in Fort Alexandria. Besides working full-time at the inn, Ruth also takes care of her mother, who has recently slipped into alcoholism due to her husband's untimely death. With her caring nature, loyalty and charm, Ruth has the potential to become a safe haven as you explore the mysteries of the town; perhaps you'll return the favor. Will you be the one to knock down Ruth's walls?

Ruth stands at 5ft 8in and has beach blonde, wavy hair normally kept back in a loose braid. She has big gray eyes, tanned skin, dimples and almost always has a deck of cards on hand.

Carmen Espinoza - The Outlaw

Carmen is a seemingly dodgy outlaw who had just rode into Fort Alexandria the night you arrived. Quick witted with a quick draw, Carmen is always looking for trouble. After being chased out of Mexico City due to a run in with the law, she's found herself in the small town looking for work. The details of Carmen's past are known to all. Regardless, when she tells stories of her past adventures, it seems as if there's always something missing. And whether you like it or not, it seems like you are going to be a part of her future. Will you be her partner in crime?

Carmen stands at 5ft 4in and has black, curly hair that is often quite disheveled. She has hazel eyes, warm brown skin, a large scar across her chin and always is wearing her black cowboy hat.

[richmond-rex]

Could you please tell more about why Elizabeth went to the Tower of London in 1503 but unexpectedly gave birth to her child? And why did Henry VII go to the Tower at that time? Thank you very much!

Hi! We don't exactly know why went to the Tower in February 1503, but presumably they were there to commemorate the feast of Candlemas, the day of the Virgin Mary's purification after the birth of Jesus Christ (a ritual which medieval women replicated in their own personal churchings). It was an important holyday in the Christian liturgical year and as such the king and queen would publicly attend mass along with the rest of the court. It was a day of special solemnity because Candlemas was considered a 'major double feast' and a 'day of estate', meaning that during the ceremony the king would wear 'his sircot, his kirtille and his … ermyne' and was to have on his head 'a hat of estate and his swerd before hym'. At the beginning of the mass a courtier would carry a candle (taper) before the king and queen which would be deposited at the altar. In the evening a 'void' occurred where nobles gathered in the great chamber to take refreshments with the king (and presumably the same happened in the queen's chambers).

Although Henry and Elizabeth were not frequent residents of the Tower in the first fifteen years of his reign, they used the place for ceremonial occasions such as coronations (1485 & 1487), diplomatic visits (1496 & 1501), openings of parliament (1497), St George's feast day (1500) and tournaments (1500). Henry ordered a new tower to be built there in 1501-1502 which might indicate a growing interest in expanding their use of the Tower. Accordingly, we see Henry and Elizabeth residing there from about 13 December until 22 December 1502. At some point they left the Tower to spend Christmas at Richmond where Henry paid for Elizabeth's furs. On January 26 Elizabeth went back from Richmond to London but I don't know exactly where she stayed from 26 January to 1 February. Her expenses suggest that first she went to Westminster and then to the Tower. All we know is that she was at the Tower on the 2nd of February (Candlemas) according to two contemporary sources:

Upon Candlemas Day in the night following the day, the King and the Queen then being lodged in the Tower of London, the Queen that night was delivered of a daughter, where she intended to have been delivered at Richmond. (Vitellius A XVI manuscript)

Candlemas Day in the night, the King and Queen being then at the Tower, the Queen travailed of child suddenly and was delivered of a daughter, the which was christened in the parish church of the said Tower & named Katherine. (The Great Chronicle of London)

Besides those two reports, that Henry was also at the Tower on that day is suggested by his offering at All Hallows Barking, a church located next to the Tower. My opinion is that they meant to spend Candlemas there but not to stay too long: the chroniclers as well as Elizabeth's payments suggest not only that she had a premature birth ('travailed of child suddenly') but that her confinement had been prepared at Richmond, so I doubt Elizabeth travelled to the Tower to have her child there. Another indication is that Henry usually lodged in the same residence Elizabeth had her deliveries and his household stuff only arrived at the Tower on 3 February, the day after her delivery. He stayed there until Elizabeth passed away by which point he departed to Richmond to ‘pass his sorrows’.

[He] took with him certain of his secretest, and privately departed to a solitary place to pass his sorrows and would no man should resort to him but such his Grace appointed.

We know Elizabeth had been ill at several moments during her last pregnancy. On 18 September 1502 she authorised payment of an apothecary’s bill and on the following days Henry sent for her surgeon. In November she had been visited by two nurses: Mistress Harcourt at Westminster on the 14th and 'a French woman' at Baynard’s Castle on the 26th. In January, Henry rewarded and sent for her surgeon once more on the 20th when he was at Richmond (and according to her expenses, Elizabeth was there too). Henry would send for a physician for Elizabeth for the last time on the first days of February but the doctor arrived too late.

I wonder if the ceremonies involved with a 'day of estate' such as Candlemas proved too tiresome for Elizabeth? It might have seemed symbolic for those around Elizabeth to see the queen going into labour on Candlemas, the day of the purification of the Virgin. If they interpreted that as the sign of a blessing, her passing a few days afterwards (on her own birthday no less) might have changed their opinion.

That's all I have but I hope my answer was helpful to you! 🌹x

[viscaartistsstuff]

Bob x sick reader

Fluffy

"oh god... My nose.." You say holding the napkin in your hand, realizing that for some mystical reason you have fallen ill, You've always been careful, but especially since you didn't have to work this week, you stayed at home, how can a normal person gets sick at home? You couldn't believe it... You hate being sick and you hate the feeling of your blocked nose.

You feel on the bed with a "uff" and stayed wihh the back towards the sheets, you were feeling like shit, how could this happened... You needed help... But you can't disturb people, your ego say try and do it yourself.

You heard 5 knocks on the window, you jump a little as you look at the sound, who could it be if not... Bob ..."Bob why are you here? And i already told you i have do-*COUGH COUGH*... Uuhh fuck" you cough hard as your troath started to hurt.

Bob rushed towards you and put his hand on your forehead, "ehy darlin' i thought i could make a visit and i think i choose the right time" he chuckle as he then took off his jacket and Red hat, he then went to the kitchen fast and returned with a glass of water and honey, you hate honey.

"what's that?" you pointed out a little disgusted, he saw that and chuckle for your face "oh now don' be a baby darlin', i know you don' like it but it's for your troath... C'mon now open your mouth~" he said with a Imperceptible smirk as he sit near you, you blushed even in a moment like this where there was nothing hot, you were blushing for his voice, "mhm.." you nope with your head, he said again as you nope again, he started to irritate but didn't show it, he stayed with a smile on his face, "y/n.. This is for your healt, it Will make it feel better after i promise just... Take it" he said Leaning his hand with the spoon full of gold honey near your mouth more, you You close your mouth more and turn away "mhm!", his face now slowly pissed "y/n-" he couldn't finish as you cough again, it was a bad one this time as you made a weird face "God... I taste blood" Bob made a strange smile and stare at you for a second "thats why honey Will help you heal it" "Bob i dont like honey! Give me something else but not honey" Bob sigh deeply as stand up and went to the kitchen again, returned after 5 minutes and give to you a glass of hot Milk, "okey maybe this one Will be more to you' taste, take it darlin'" you saw it and were more happy than before so you took the hot glass and took a sip "mmhh! Thats better!" he smirked mischievously and you notice his face and made a confused sound "oh honey... You really like it uh~", you blush a little "w-what" you chip, "the Milk... You like it?" you raise a eyebrow and stare at him "mhmh~ did you know that... Honey can melt right?" he laugh and you then blush in embarassment "wha-why!Bob i told yo-" he put his index finger on your lips and lick his lips "now now darlin' don't be touchy, that means you're going to be a good girl now and drink all the glass I gave you, right honey..? His eyes were almost closed and had that kind of shadows that made your back have chills and his mouth was arching in a smirk, this man could make you do things that you couldn't even control, you were all red and flustered now, so you decided you didn't have a choice even because you were feeling shit and your troath hurt like hell, why this moment was turning out in something else... Jeez why you were so horny all the time.

You then started to take more sip on the glass even because the cup was still hot, his face returned normal and his gentle smile returned, he caressed your cheek "good girl.. Just like that~ now you will feel better after drinking that" you felt chills and melt from his words... Why he has to make sexy everything he say, maybe is for his strong accent, he noticed that and moved near your ear and whispered in a very deep voice "you know... If you weren't sick darlin' I'd punish you right now~" you stayed still and froze in the spot you "Hahahaha!" you hear him laugh as you make a confused face "oh oh~ you should see your face now! I got you!" you became flustered and embarassed as you bring your sheets and cover your face, grunt in embarassment, he chuckle and came near you and caress your hands "oh c'mon now lambchop i was joking, but i have to admit that you ar' acting a little" you grunt and turn around away from him "gmh!" he took of your sheets took your chin in his hand and kiss your lips gently, you gasp as you slap his arm "Bob! You can get the flue too!" he chuckle and kiss your forhead.

After a while you were feeling sleepy, the little moment that Bob made a while ago was strange and even hot, you hope that you weren't so Cooled, anyway he was around the house while you were laying on your bed trying to catch some sleep.

Bob was right the Milk with the honey make out your troath and was better than the medications you took yesterday, Bob was cleaning all your angles and He was fixing whatever he could find at home, all this to help you he knew how much work you have so cleaning your house a little was maybe something that could make you feel a little bit better.

You feel asleep and Bob didn't notice cause he was in the kitchen preparing you some metal for later. When he finished he went to check on you and you were Snoring merrily, he smiles and giggles a little in your presence and goes to rest on the couch.

7 pm arrives and you were still sleeping, Bob notices the time and comes to your room to wake you up even if he didn't want to disturb you but you couldn't skip dinner, he wakes you up and you wake up with a small sound and get up, with his arm around your waist he accompanies you to the kitchen to eat, "Bob... Bob what did you make" you ask with a sleepy voice "i thought that you could need some juicy meat to refresh your energy..." he drol a bit as you were starting to eat he was staring at you with an intense gaze "Bob? Are you okey?" you ask him and he answered just with "yeah..."

You ate it all and it was delicious, you were now full and decided to sit on the sofà with Bob, he hugged you from behind and you laid your head on his chubby chest, "Bob...?" he hum "thanks... For... You know everything that you did today, you didn't have to" he looked at you and kissed your head "darlin' you don' have to thank me, i did it because i don' like seeing you like this" you smile warmly and hugged tight, At some point you couldn't resist but cough, your troath hurt again as you were feeling your head dizzy "oh.. GOD... I thought it get better? *cough COUGH* Bob He holds you tight and caresses your back, takes you a glass of water and gives it to you, "it's okey take this" you take a big sip of the water and it calm down.

"mmhh..it still hurt" Bob stare at you for a second and then got up, you couldn't see him but he was searching for something you hear glass clicking and snapping of a Jar, he smirk and came back with something behind he was chuckling, "what are you hiding" you chuckle, he then show you a glass of Milk... No... Not again you thought but then you started laugh "OH come on!" you laugh and he started to laugh too "you don' have a choice darlin' c'mon... It's only for tonight and then i will buy a Syrup for that..." you smile and took the glass in your hand, he sit near you as he put his hand on your waist you jump a little "wo..I didn't think I'd have this effect on you..hehe~" you groan and took a sip of the glass of Milk, he kissed your cheek and smile warmly at you, "good girl".

his hand now was caressing your side slowly, you blush by his hand, he realize and... "what?... Are you flustered?" you hide your face in his chest, "hehe~" he was laugh as you were trying not to melt.

He kissed your head and stayed like that for as long as you needed, as he noticed you falling asleep on his shoulder he catch the glass before it fell, he bring you up gently in his arms and took you to bed, he She puts you under the covers and you start relaxing between the pillows, he stays there for a while until he starts to She puts you under the covers and you start relaxing between the pillows, he stays there for a while until he starts to leave "Bob..." he turn his head fast you were still awake? "ehy darlin' you should take some sleep you know" you couldn't see him because your eyes were half closed but you grunt and Stretch your arms up as a sign that you want to hug "oh you want hug? Okey.." he close his Space with you and hugged you tight kissing you on your head, you didn't let him go as you wrap your arms around him tightly "darlin'.. I have to go.. Ehy..." "mmhhgg.. No..." he sigh "really.. C'mon let me go i Will visit you tomorrow" "please...stay.." he smiled again and as you insisted and your arms weren't moving he decided to stay for the night.

You wrap your arms around him as you kissed his lips "now you Will stay with me for the week" he was shocked but after a minute he chuckle and kissed you again as his hands were feeling your body "yeah.. I will stay even more noè thanks..." he said joking and you laugh a bit.

You two feel asleep and the next day you were feeling better but Bob wasn't as he open his eyes he Sneezes, he look at you unimpressed, you laugh at him "yeah thanks.." you kissed all his face "oohh poor baby, now I Will make you feel better bobby" you smile.

Ehy guys Im here again with a little oneshot, anyway i hope you are having a great day and hope you enjoyed, if you have new ideas let me know in the ask-box! 🫐✨🌼💗

[highlyspecificsigns]

the signs as pleasing and hateful things from sei shonagon’s the pillow book

Full text (composed 1002 AD); background

(there are so many lists in this, picking just two was not easy!)

ARIES:

Pleasing: I greatly enjoy taking in someone who is pleased with himself and who has a self-confident look, especially if he is a man. It is amusing to observe him as he alertly waits for my next repartee.  Hateful: A gentleman has visited one secretly. Though he is wearing a tall, lacquered hat, he nevertheless wants no one to see him. He is so flurried, in fact, that upon leaving he bangs into some thing with his hat. Most hateful! 

TAURUS:

Pleasing: Finding a large number of tales that one has not read before. Or acquiring the second volume of a tale whose first volume one has enjoyed. But often it is a disappointment. Hateful: Sometimes one greatly dislikes a person for no particular reason - and then that person goes and does something hateful.

GEMINI:

Pleasing: A person with whom one is not especially intimate refers to an old poem or story that is unfamiliar. Then one hears it being mentioned by someone else and one has the pleasure of recognizing it. Hateful: A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him discusses all sorts of subjects at random as though he knew every thing.

CANCER:

Pleasing: A person of quality is holding forth about something in the past or about a recent event that is being widely discussed. Several people are gathered round him, but it is oneself that he keeps looking at as he talks. Hateful: An admirer has come on a clandestine visit, but a dog catches sight of him and starts barking. One feels like killing the beast.

LEO:

Pleasing: Entering the Empress's room and finding that ladies-in waiting are crowded round her in a tight group, I go next to a pillar which is some distance from where she is sitting. What a delight it is when Her Majesty summons me to her side so that all the others have to make way! Hateful: One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room.

VIRGO:

Pleasing: I realize that it is very sinful of me, but I cannot help being pleased when someone I dislike has a bad experience. Hateful: A newcomer pushes ahead of the other members in a group; with a knowing look, this person starts laying down the law and forcing advice upon everyone - most hateful.

LIBRA:

Pleasing: It is a great pleasure when the ornamental comb that one has ordered turns out to be pretty. Hateful: A man who has nothing in particular to recommend him but who speaks in an affected tone and poses as being elegant.

SCORPIO:

Pleasing: Someone has torn up a letter and thrown it away. Picking up the pieces, one finds that many of them can be fitted together. Hateful: A man with whom one is having an affair keeps singing the praises of some woman he used to know.

SAGITTARIUS:

Pleasing: When one is competing in an object match (it does not matter what kind), how can one help being pleased at winning? Hateful: Men in their cups who shout, poke their fingers in their mouths, stroke their beards, and pass on the wine to their neighbours with great cries of "Have some more! Drink up!"

CAPRICORN:

Pleasing: I am most pleased when I hear someone I love being praised or being mentioned approvingly by an important person. Hateful: One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one's own version is inaccurate - disgusting behaviour!

AQUARIUS:

Pleasing: One has had an upsetting dream and wonders what it can mean. In great anxiety one consults a dream-interpreter, who informs one that it has no special significance. Hateful: Someone has suddenly fallen ill and one summons the exorcist. Since he is not at home, one has to send messengers to look for him.

PISCES:

Pleasing: A poem that someone has composed for a special occasion or written to another person in reply is widely praised and copied by people in their notebooks. Though this is something that has never yet happened to me, I can imagine how pleasing it must be. Hateful: One is in a hurry to leave, but one's visitor keeps chattering away.

[ghostismybbygorl]

Okay heres how id vibe with cod characters

First off i think my call sign would be 'mouse'

Bc im small i can scurry around places pretty quick and i can escape out of a situation fast as well that or cause i sneeze like a mouse

Id be a sniper and demolition expert ngl

Price

Legit i would call him dad 24/7 not like in a daddy kind of way but like legit a father figure

he'd just roll his eyes and accept the fact that he has another kid he has to take care of

100% would smoke a cigar with him though id smoke those tiny cigarillos (my brother smokes cigars and ill smoke a little with him)

Gift giving is my love language so whenever id visit a new country id buy him a cigar from there

I have a hat like his and i WILL wear it around and mimick him

Id do the grunts and everything

I feel like id be on more missions with him than anyone else

Definitely would hang out in his office to keep him company and annoy the shit out if him

Soap

Dont let anyone near us

Like

AT ALL

wed be doing diabolical shit especially since im an arsonist and free will plus military grade explosives plus mouse and soap. have the fire department on speed dial

We'd be the reason price is greying faster

100% stealing his shirts and hoodies they'd be so big on me

Im gonna be up front with this one

We'd be fucking. I'm down bad for this man

We'd annoy the absolute piss out of ghost. He can handle one soap but TWO hes gonna need the backpack leashes for us

Quoting vines and tiktoks ON THE DAILY

Jam seshes in the car would be 100% perfect

We'd have a snap streak and its only stupid photos we take

Im recording everything he does i know damn well hes always in a silly goofy mood

Definitely in the blunt rotation

He's definitely the type to find my snack rations and eat them in front of me

Lots of hugs and kisses for this man

Except when he eats my snacks

Wed play fight all the time. When i'm really close with someone ill start "beating them up" (just be faking to fight you)

Ghost

Oh this poor poor man

Have sympathy on him because he's going to try to avoid every ounce of my being

And i wont stop that

Im giving him hugs left and right this man needs some love

I feel like once i start cracking dark humor jokes he'd open up to me

100% would be making the most absurd worst dad jokes and laughing about it

We'd text on the daily mostly just me sending him memes and him sending a 👍🏻or a 👎🏻

Im stealing his hoodies and his masks

Id probably piss him the fuck off to be honest

Id give him so many gifts to make him happy i know he crinkle's his eyes when he smiles

In the blunt rotation too but i think he'd just join for the company and not smoke that much

Id be over in his room if im overstimulated and i don't want to deal with people

Id have him proof read my fanfiction and he'd be my personal dictionary cause i cant spell for shit

Gaz

Did i say big brother vibes cause HE WILL BE MY BIG BROTHER

Id steal his hat so many times but like not in the ride a cowboy kind of way

Id buy him the most ridiculous hats and he will 100% wear them

I feel like he was a spondgebob kid so i know damn well we'll be quoting some of the lines

Part of the blunt rotation as well

When I'm upset he's the one id rant to

Definitely would vibe in a room without talking to him in general

He's most definitely the one to keep me from being unhinged

Totally would listen to murder podcasts together

So at my previous job we had to wear full body harnesses and we played this game called the carabiniere game where you take a carabiniere and hook it on to someone without them knowing and you see who can put the most on them

Soap, gaz, and i would be playing it 100% all the time with each other.

Id also grab them by the harness and pull them around or clip myself to them

Let me get a video from my old job and just put em here and id just explain

Okay back to writing

Laswell

Once again id call her mom and she's just gonna have to deal with it

Id definitely spend time with her outside of work (especially since she lives in maryland my family lives up there) which gives me more of a reason to visit her lol

Shopping sprees i feel like she's a frequent shopper at tj maxx and target

I also feel like she gives the best life advice so id come calling if im in a predicament

Okay so i am partially fluent in spanish, my god mother and best friend are Mexican so I've been around Mexican culture the majority of my life

Alejandro

definitely calls me niña or cariño

I feel like he'd roast my spanish and doesn't correct me if i say something wrong

100% my drinking buddy

I feel like he'd be very protective over me

Id be his date (platonically) and hed be mine to all the family gatherings

Fucking Mexican families are so much fun too. party my tia throws one and im there two shots of tequila in my hand listening and damcing to music

We'd text on the daily i feel like he'd frequently visit me and my family in the south as well he'd be the life of the party at my tia's parties

Rudy

He's the one that corrects my spanish and WILL only speak spanish to me until I understand whst he's saying

Insert him pointing to a random object and says it in spanish

I feel like we wouldnt bond much but we would you know?

I also feel like he gives great life advice

Graves

Id kick him in the balls

He's the type of guy i avoid or ruin his reputation

Absolutely despise him

Completely roast that motherfucker

Drop kick him

He pisses me off so much

Gives off leo and cancer energy

OHOHOHOHHH AND AT THE BETRAYAL SCENE DONT GET ME STARTED

Id 100% try to fight him even before Alejandro would

Tbh id probably get killed by one of his shadows bc of it

König

Sweet babe i would help him through an axiety attack

PIGGY BACK RIDES FOR SURE

id hug him every-time i see him

Definitely would say uppies and have him put me on his shoulders

He definitely wont see me at all ( im 5'4) so he would definitely have to crouch down to see me

His nickname would be bear cause of how big he is

I feel like when he'’s comfortable around you he’s very out going

I have no clue how to speak german but i will act like i do

He's in the blunt rotation as well

Thats all i got for now 😊