#it's a habit formed out of some not so pleasant experiences but oh well it's alright :]

[emyluwinter]

You know, sometimes I think that some songs are wildly suited to some topic, au or something else. It's like it's a piece of a puzzle to put together a complete picture. And for the Silver Bullet, the author of Au - @jackplushie

I think the "I'm so sorry - Imagine Dragons"

In my head fits perfectly. Especially the chorus for yandere boys, it's a really great script!

"Life is not always what you imagine it to be Turn your head for a second and the tables will change places And I know, I know I did the wrong thing to you. But will you believe me when I tell you that I will make it up to you? Somehow, somehow?"

And perhaps the theme of the song somehow reminds me of the theme of the industrial sphere. Something like the game Assassin's Creed Syndicate. You're expecting a "big piece" from me, aren't you? Well, I'll try to satisfy your curiosity, dear ~

Oh, I forgot to mention! TW - Be careful here there is a description of the wounds. Little. As well as mentions of severe bleeding.

Enjoy~ ***

With difficulty leaning with all his weight, and with a terrible creak opening the distorted, almost broken, twisted door, Crowley definitely did not intend to see a monstrous pogrom in his bar, having descended for another "conversation" with their sweet, modest bartender…

Ah, how many changes caused their appearance!

Boys in the form of different heads of their mafia clans or gangs, whatever they were called, none of them smashed his bar! And in any case, they did not even think of harming the Bartender. Which could not but please. And finally! Finally, there was a neutral zone that everyone was waiting for anyway! Both ordinary civilians and the smallest criminals just to have a glass of something tasty or maybe strong. As a last resort, fill your stomach with simple snacks and an aperitif. Find yourself in this quiet oasis, an island of tranquility, tobacco jokes and endless conversations. Like the most ordinary people, ordinary workers and hard workers. Even if the walls have "ears" here they are silent. Every word remains dissolved in the haze of cigarettes, the smell of alcohol and musty stuffy air due to the old room… Well, over time and with some "investments", the bar acquired an increasingly presentable and pleasant appearance.

But now……

Taking his revolver from the inside pocket of his coat, Crowley looked around intently. Yet the old criminal habits will go away with the last nail driven into his coffin with him. The whole mayhem indicated that something very creepy had happened in the bar.. Several sturdy wooden tables were broken in two and strewn with bullet marks. And there were also a few traces of paint…

Wait.....Traces of paint?

Crowley chuckled in displeasure. If there were traces of paint in the bar, then the Bartender had to take up arms…

Which was definitely not encouraging. Is the situation out of control?

A shotgun with sleepy bullets carefully donated by Crewel for the bartender as protection. Even if you just shoot ordinary bullets with paint, it was no less painful than if you beat with your fists. The bartender refused to have a gun until the last, but Crowley said it was a prerequisite for the job.

Because, firstly, the Bartender is an ordinary civilian. Not having a drop of experience, strength, or skills to resist thugs who had to put up with the fact that blood and the smell of slaughter would be their signature and only perfume. Finding several "bodies" in a deep sleep, Crowley kicked one of them in the side to see several cuts on his arm and a very distinct boot mark on his stomach and chest. The second one had an excellent boot print on his face and apparently the blow was good enough to break his nose and cause severe bleeding. It seems that some of them had scratched hands and faces like claw marks? Were they attacked by a cat?Ah, it doesn't matter now.

Where is their employee?Are they alive?Are they injured? All these little gnats didn't interest him much…They will be taken care of later. Picking up his phone and quickly dialing a number, Crowley was intensely examining the mayhem trying to find a certain person. Along the way, examining whether there are any identification "signs" of the gang or some kind of stripes to identify the attackers. This would greatly simplify the "task" to deal with the remnants of this gang, if there were any.

-Crewel. The code is a "ruined nest". My bar. Grab a first aid kit and your dogs.

Quickly disconnecting from the call, Crowley noticed a bloodstain on the floor that led a thin path to the staff room. A small modest interior room with a sofa and a bedside table, and a round mirror in an old artful frame, a place where you could relax from everyone or change clothes.

Damn it. Let it be just a scratch…

After taking a breath and removing the safety from the revolver, Crowley gently knocked on the door handle. The bar was filled with a sickening silence that made Dyre's stomach twist into a knot. He should have seen it coming. Everything was going too well. No one in their right mind attacked the neutral zone. Unless they had at least some remnants of brains or perhaps their intentions were more bloody than the world had seen before.

-Yuu… this is Crowley. I open the door

Still, it was worth warning, because the Bartender often asked them to notify them of their appearance.Because a couple of times Crowley almost got under the influence of sleepy bullets with paint. Of course, they are not dangerous, the victim will just sleep off properly and will feel weak for a couple of days. Mandatory condition from Yuu. There are no real weapons in the bar, this is not a bloody battlefield and they were not going to become a murderer by negligence or intent.

To Crowley's surprise, the door was open…?

And oh, merciful heavens, he never wanted to see this picture in his life. Even in his nightmare.

Lying near the wall, almost reaching the sofa, the Bartender Yuu lay in a small puddle of their own blood. It would seem, with great difficulty, taking every breath and forcibly forcing your lungs to work in beaten and broken ribs. Their wheezing as they breathed sent a chill down Crowley's spine for the first time in his life. Opening the door and running up to poor Yuu, Crowley briefly examined the wounds inflicted.. The shirt was mercilessly torn and the right hand was hanging from the brush with a small rag. A couple of buttons were missing. Purple-red hand mark on the neck.. The vest barely held on to the only remaining seam on the left shoulder. Their always white shirt was soaked with splashes of someone else's blood, an uneven blood-red circle was slowly spreading from the right side. As well as on the left thigh, through the dark fabric of their trousers, this stain looked unnatural… His right arm was swollen from the wrist to the elbow and was literally blue. Yuu's left hand tightly held a shotgun with a reserve of sleepy bullets, as if they did not intend to give up even now. A lot of small scratches, bruises and abrasions. The right cheekbone was so swollen and swollen that it closed they eyes. And Grimm….he got hurt too, but he stayed until the end. This stray cat with a striped ribbon donated from Yuu lay next to them and licked his wound on his paw, mewing piteously and gently rubbing against the pale cheek of the Bartender.

-C… Crowley? - A hoarse low whisper escaped from the already blue lips of the wounded Yuu.

-Drink, don't talk. - Taking a small bottle from his inner pocket, Crowley quickly removed the lid and carefully brought it to the Bartender's lips. Pouring the liquid so that they take at least one sip. The painkiller will keep them conscious for a while. But there was catastrophically little of it now.

-This is….h… it h-hurts..

-You've lost a lot of blood, just concentrate on breathing and don't make any movements.

-mm.. - softly mumbling in agreement, Yuu took a slightly deep breath and relaxed a little when the wild and terrible pain finally eased. Their tense muscles stretched like strings finally lost all tension.

Hearing the noise of a car approaching, Crowley quickly looked out into the bar noticing the familiar Crewel logo. So Divus is already here perfectly.

-Who the hell could do this to poor puppies?! - Divus swore while providing first aid for the Bartender. After quickly closing the wounds and stopping the bleeding, Crewel immediately snapped his fingers and pointed at Yuu so that his subordinates would do the rest of the business. They couldn't be left in this state. Despite the anger and irritation bubbling in his veins, Crewel remained collected and distributed commands.

-Treat them like the most fragile snowflake in a hot fireplace. Take the cat, too.

-Boss, what to do with these "attackers"?

-Great question ~ - Crowley's voice suddenly rang out, who was carefully watching what was happening and pondering in his head in the shadow of everyone.

-Collect this garbage and take it to the "interview" for my "Ghosts". Tell him I'll be back in the evening to find out the motive and reasons for the attack on neutral territory. And ah! Please put up a sign that the bar is closed indefinitely. Divus, I leave these two in your care.

-I'll let you know about their condition later.

Although Yuu was barely holding on to his consciousness, familiar voices still reached his ears. And after the arrival of Crewel, the body became so sluggish and as if all the fatigue accumulated over the past months of such hard work finally broke through and captured every cell of the body. But now there was no such red-hot destructive pain with every movement or even thought. Everything seemed so sluggish and limp. Feeling how several pairs of strong hands so carefully and so carefully lifted their fragile, wounded body. The bartender chuckled slightly in his thoughts. They could never imagine that criminal persons would hold they so gently and so gently in their hands. But they often mercilessly wound someone and hurt someone. In the distance, the voices became quieter and quieter, but Yuu still heard snatches of phrases from those who carried them.

-Damn these freaks…

-Just look what they did to the poor bartender… poor guy.

-They tried to set fire to the bar?!I saw one wall smoked.. Feeling like they were being held by big and strong hands, Yuu was even a little embarrassed. The strong shoulder on which they rested their bandaged head smelled pleasantly of cologne. A delicious smell, will have to ask what brand of perfume it is. They were definitely not used to being carried around like that, and all these thoughts were trying to somehow keep the remnants of their mind and calm. Someone even tried to cheer them up with light strokes on the head or wiped their lonely tears. Occasionally running down their cheeks. The bartender no longer held on, their shell cracked, and it was possible to cry from impotence and shock. How much their head was splitting. But suddenly a very good thought ran through.

He'll skin them, but Crowley will give them a vacation..to hell with everything. First, a sick leave with medical insurance coverage, and then a vacation.

They're too tired. They didn't care where they were being taken. Quietly asking those who carried them so lovingly about the fate of the cat. These people in business suits, with lab aprons and long protective gloves, showed how one of their colleagues also carefully carries a Grimm. Strangely, Grimm didn't even mind being touched by others and behaved like a sleepy cat. And he was also treated to eat. These "chain dogs" as they were called in other gangs, definitely liked Yuu They smelled delicious, they didn't let go of their hands even though they could. And in general they were the most exemplary people for all the time that the Bartender has ever met…

-By the way, I counted 8 people so… were they beaten up like that by the Bartender?….And the cat?

-Yup…..I kicked their ass … - Yuu replied quietly, trying not to lose consciousness. It was definitely a valuable victory for them that they survived this massacre at all. These "dogs" tried to somehow distract the bartender from all thoughts and they probably just wanted to talk about something other than work. On Yuu's account, they didn't ask anything personal.

-Oh, yes, they definitely didn't lie to us when you whipped someone with a wet towel on an impudent ass.

-They offended….my Grimm… - Yuu whispered softly as they were carried to one of the dark expensive cars. Apparently they will be taken away somewhere until they lick their wounds and recover properly. -Get punched for offending a cat…

-Pete, shut your mouth. The cat is sacred.

-He's good….drove away all the mice and rats.. - It seems now Yuu knows that there are cute cat lovers in the gang of the ferocious Divus Crewel.

-Yeah, and also this furry asshole demolishes all the glasses without supervision. Yeah, I'm talking scoundrel about you!You're still snorting at me, and I wanted to feed you..

Yuu thought that they looked like the most ordinary people who just chose a completely wrong field of work. Ordinary people with their hobbies, interests and lives. The side that clearly did not cover all their actions..

Meanwhile, to the bar, under loud swearing, whose bouquet with roses was better, the duo of Adeuce was heading. They both came up with the idea to give the "impregnable fortress of the heart" in the form of a Bartender a bouquet and hope for their mercy and maybe a small increase in the chance of a date~ After passing a familiar alley, they immediately hide around the corner when they notice a bunch of black tinted cars with a very familiar emblem. Emblems and signs that the leaders in the gangs categorically forbade them to contact.

-What are the Crows and Dogs doing here?! - Deuce cursed softly, looking out for all the people he could see from his hiding place and trying to figure out what had happened.

-Something tells me that they didn't come to the bar for tea and cookies…Look at some bodies being taken away. - Snorting in response, Ace tsked with displeasure, realizing that going further is a straight road for at least a beaten face and a couple of broken bones. In the best case, they will simply be asked to go off into the sunset.

-Ace….we need to tell the others about it…

-I knoooow….Imagine how Riddle will explode when he finds out that the bar is surrounded by these dogs and crows. Not even a speck of dust can get past them. They are a different level.. Putting the Bouquet under his arm and dialing the number of his the leader, Ace was almost at the call button when he froze in place. White with horror.

-Holy shi..

-Uh.. this!!! Ace and Deuce could not believe their eyes when they saw the wounded Yuu who were very carefully carried in their arms by one of their chain dogs. Their wounds, their blood, their face swollen from the blows, caused a furious flame. The flame flowing into the red-hot magma spreading through their veins. Flaring up stronger and stronger, as if from a small spark, sprayed to a fiery tornado, mercilessly demolishing everything in its path. Breaking from their hiding place and forgetting about the roses, the two of them rushed as if for the last saving straw that was stretched out to them. Someone dared to touch the Bartender without their permission. Someone dared to spill their blood.. Hurt them… And condemn themselves to the most terrible and monstrous fate that they could only imagine…

-Hey!YOU! Where are you taking Yuu?!?

-What did you do to him?!? The duo's screams and their rapid approach, despite all the guards, attracted attention. But no matter how they tried to stop the "abduction in front of their eyes" of their dear and beloved Bartender. It didn't work out. The chain dogs got into one of the black cars with them in their arms. They were quickly pinned down and immobilized, to Ace's surprise, without even trying to harm them.Just so that they don't twitch and behave "obediently." He even had to calm Deuce down so that their fate would not get even worse… Remotely being already in the car, Yuu gradually turned off from fatigue and from impotence, but they clearly heard the screams of a duo of walking problems somewhere nearby. It could have been a hallucination that all criminal persons from all over the neighborhood are now flying like bees to Yuu's wounded soul. Maybe it was worth thinking about HOW they would now pay the whole two gangs for their "mercy and kindness". But now, having already spent the last drops of their strength, Yuu gave themselves permission to just fall into this dark water … and fall asleep. They shouldn't have messed with this world, ever. It was worth thinking twice before agreeing to this job for lack of other options. Crowley could at least assure the others that Yuu is not a talkative person. They don't tell what they don't need. Everyone sees, everyone hears, but they don't say anything. That was more than enough…. ***

News of the attack on the neutral zone spread quickly. Faster than anyone could have imagined. It was practically a declaration of war to everyone at once and to no one in particular. But there was no note, no witnesses or the attackers themselves… The gang leaders were furious. For several reasons.

They couldn't find their expensive bartender Yu no matter how hard they tried. The chain dogs perfectly removed all traces of their presence.

The attackers did not suffer "punishment" for their act at their hands..

The older gangs did not give them answers. All the gangs were one step away from unleashing their terrible criminal tendencies to turn over every stone in the city. But to find their "kidnapped lover" They tossed, growled, were in the most disgusting mood that their subordinates could only see for all the years of work for them. Their thoughts and hearts had no rest until they saw live, with their own eyes, that their cute Bartender was standing in front of them again. With their polite smile and polite conversations, what kind of drink is worth trying today, while they fix their gaze on every inch of their body and catch every particle of their breath… *******

haaaaah…Maybe I'll do the second part about the return of the bartender…But I need to rest.

I hope you enjoyed it!

[hyenahunt]

Bogie Time: The Jeering of the Jesters - 16

Writer: Akira

Season: Summer

Characters: Hajime, Ibara

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Sophie + Skyress (ENG)

Translation: nazunyan427 & haranami

Ibara: We are Team Snakey, after all… Yes, I believe I’ve learnt an important lesson from the rabbit I ran into in the undergrowth.

Hajime: ......

Ibara: Oh, I’m sorry for going on about myself. I’m prone to rambling — it’s a bad habit of mine.

Hajime: Oh, no problem. Everything you have to say is very interesting, Ibanyan. You’re not like any person I’ve ever interacted with before.

Ibara: Hm? Aren’t you on good terms with His Eminence Eichi? This is merely my personal opinion, but he seems rather self-centered; doesn’t he speak of things like this quite often?

Hajime: He doesn’t talk about work during tea club activities or in front of me in general.

Or no, that’s not it. It might be because everyone is too considerate to bring up that kind of topic in front of me.

It does make me feel a little sad. It’s not that I’m being treated like a hindrance or anything, but it does feel like I’m being treated a little like a child. Well, I suppose it’s their way of holding me dear.

Oh, I’m sorry! That sounded like I was complaining.

Ibara: Fufu. We won’t get anywhere, apologizing to each other like this.

But now that you’ve gracefully accepted my apology, I have no choice but to accept yours as well.

You’re quite the sly one, Jimenyan.

Hajime: That’s right. I… Good kids can be slyer than you’d think! ♪

Ibara: As far as mantras go, that’s better than “ill weeds grow apace.”

More importantly, the final five minigames are about to begin. Was there anything you wished to discuss with me before we begin?

There’s a chance that His Excellency and the others will employ some form of trickery, so it might be meaningless to begin devising a strategy…

But it’s a hundred times better to see your preparations go to waste than to lose and regret not having prepared at all.

Hajime: Yes! It looks like we’re on the same page, Ibanyan.

But before that, do you think I could apologize to you one more time?

Ibara: Hm? You tend to apologize quite often, I see. Whatever are you sorry for?

Hajime: During the first half, I got kind of carried away and ended up winning a lot… Even though you didn’t really want to stand out that much.

Ibara: Oh, that’s not a problem at all.

Our team did achieve victory, but we’re still a ways away from Team God in first place. Additionally, not participating at all would have attracted attention as well — and not of the pleasant variety.

It certainly wasn’t my intent to drag you down with me, letting people perceive you as unsuitable for variety shows simply because you tried to be mindful of my personal wishes.

Hajime: Haha. Even though at the start that wouldn’t have been a problem to you at all, Ibanyan.

Ibara: That’s correct. But, ultimately, I wasn’t able to become villainous enough to crush someone as sinless as you without qualm.

If you had been out of sight, I doubt I would have felt any guilt. However, circumstances being as they are, I ended up living with you for a while.

So it appears that I’ve been somewhat emotionally compromised. This is exactly why I’ve been trying to avoid these situations: the secret to pulling off evil deeds flawlessly is to be devoid of empathy.

…No, that was simply a baseless assumption I came up with.

If you wish to manipulate others well, and if you wish to commit wrongdoings, you must thoroughly understand your targets and gather information firsthand.

That is what I have learnt through this experience.

I think I’ve finally understood the reasoning behind a few of His Eminence Eichi’s actions that I previously found meaningless, such as the creation of our dorm-wide Circles.

All that’s left is for me to grow strong enough that I don’t drown in guilt when I send someone I empathize with to the depths of hell.

In the days to come, Ibara Saegusa will be a force to reckon with, indeed~ Do look forward to it.

Hajime: Haha. In that case, I’ll do my best not to get gobbled up by a big scary snake. ♪

Ibara: Heh. You’re still far from worthy of becoming my prey.

Little by little, let us grow and evolve together.

Fufu. It might be too early to say this, but thank you very much.

Due to your help, I was able to experience an abundance of fresh new things. It was a great honor to work with you.

Hajime: And the same goes for you. ♪

But, are you sure? Depending on how things unfold, you might end up regretting saying something like that to me. We could end up losing catastrophically, you know?

Ibara: Considering this is a variety show, that would be desirable in its own way.

I’m certainly no expert, but I can assure you that this isn’t like a test you’d do at school. Being diligent, chipping away at it little by little, isn’t necessarily the “right answer”.

Hajime: You really don’t seem to want to stand out too much, Ibanyan. In this case, proceeding with diligence and achieving results actually feels like the wrong answer.

Still. There’s just one thing I wanted to say, but I’ve been lost over whether I should or not.

I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to work alongside Eden of ES’s Big Three.

But if I don’t say anything, I’ll end up regretting it, so please let me just say it.

Ibara: Hm? What is it? You’re more than welcome to contact me though Hold Hands or such even after this is over, th—

Hajime: No, it’s something I have to say right now.

Um. You don’t want to be a laughingstock, right, Ibanyan?

And that’s why you hate variety shows and didn’t want to appear on one; plus why you didn’t want to stand out during Bogie Time so that you wouldn’t end up with this sort of work again.

Ibara: That’s correct.

Hajime: But, um. This might sound a little condescending me to say, but I don’t think it’s a good thing to be so passive. Or at least, it doesn’t seem like the kind of person that you are, Ibanyan.

Ibara: Well, I certainly can’t tell you that you don’t know the first thing about me… Are you going to continue?

Hajime: Yes. Not standing out means that nobody pays any attention to you.

I’ve experienced that before, and I know all too well just how painful and miserable it feels.

Ibara: Would you rather become a laughingstock than have people not recognize you at all?

Hajime: Yes. I would.

Hajime: Ibanyan, you were frustrated that someone important to you treated you like you didn’t exist, right?

But the result you’re going to end up with now is exactly that.

Ibara: ……

Hajime: I just think that would be a pity, or like, out of character for you.

Hajime: Ack, I can’t put it into words all that well, but I don’t like it.

Knowing that it hurts, but still having no choice but to continue.

But I know better now, thanks to what my seniors from Yumenosaki have taught me. If something awful ever happens again, I know how to get through it without tears this time.

Hiding away isn’t the only way to escape being made a laughingstock. The answer isn’t running away nor giving up in frustration.

It’s to get stronger, work harder, and achieve results―become someone so cool and adorable that nobody will be able to laugh derisively at you.

To become the best idol you can be and shine so brightly that everyone who sees you will have no choice but to sing your praises.

That might be a bit of a pipe dream, but I don’t want to keep running away. When things get tough, I want to challenge them head on.

Ibara: ……

…………

Hajime: After we held that performance that ended in tears, we ended up making it all the way to the semi-finals during DDD and wiped away those tears.

We used that frustration as a springboard to propel us forward and make us work harder.

There were some people who claimed it was just because our luck was good, or because we just happened to not go up against many powerful opponents, but we didn’t pay any attention to that.

It’s ten times better than nobody paying any attention to us at all.

When you achieve results, that’s something to take pride in, and that pride makes us stronger.

I know it’s probably rich of me to say all this to someone from ES’s Big Three...

But that’s why I want to try to win Bogie Time. Not just so that we don’t stand out—I want us to do our best so we can achieve results.

That way is a lot more positive and cooler, don’t you think?

Ibara: Indeed… No one can ridicule those who are cool, hm?

It’s as you say. Instead of crawling through the bushes, we ought to rear our heads and intimidate everyone around us.

We are Team Snakey, after all… Yes, I believe I’ve learnt an important lesson from the rabbit I ran into in the undergrowth.

Ibara: I was under the impression that snakes don’t yell. But that was quite amusing; let’s polish it up a bit and save it for later, shall we?

Hajime: All right! Let’s have a strategy meeting and think positively about what’s to come!

Ibara: That’s right — let us ensure that we reach a bright future, wherein no one can even think of laughing at us.

✦✦✦✦✦

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[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Chapter 1

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to friends.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be four or five chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Chapter One: UN Village

June, Incheon Airport

Along the curves of the hill

Rolling, rolling, rolling hills

As we climb there’s a broken streetlight

When I see one, I turn off the lights under it

Baekhyun was nothing but ready for the excavation.

You were more than ready for the session.

Both of you, were nothing but two leaders who hated each other equally.

You were eyeing each other with saying no words since your teams came together in the airport. Before this particular moment of departure, you refused to meet with Byun Baekhyun, putting aside meeting with him, you refused even dropping an e-mail in order to let Sunkyungwan Team about Sejong Team. You were clear and strict as fuck, even though two teams had to work together for three months, you had zero intention to get accustomed with the other team leader.

The weather was sunny, nice and warm, however because of you and Baekhyun, your team members were feeling like they were trapped in a fucking blizzard during the coldest winter.

You were aware of your team members had positive opinions of that scoundrel, especially the girls, as you had your first-handed experiences because of your stupid classmates, Byun Baekhyun was very famous of his abilities to cast a spell on women. The problem was he was also famous as a serial dater, serial killer type of men.

A bastard, nothing more nothing less.

“Indy,” one of your team members, Minseok, called you. Although, calling you as Indy was also a habit of Minseok, it was also an obligation for the others, you insisted on calling you by your nickname or your name, instead of calling you as sunbae. You did not like the hierarchical titles. “Should we move into the control point?”

“Yeah, if you are ready.” you replied, grabbing your luggage and the rest.

“I guess we have to alert Sunkyungwan people since we will fly together.” Hyesun pointed out, your eyebrows knitted.

“I guess,” you recall her words. “They also have this information, so we do not have to alert anyone, we are not their babysitters.”

Hyesun’s cheeks were blushing after you kindly scolded her, but she was clever enough to hold her tongue. Your dislike towards Sunkyungwan was not a secret as you used every opportunity to show it. You led your team to the kiosks, counting the heads automatically. You had six here, you were going to have ten more when you arrive to Chios whose coming from all around European universities. With thirteen Sunkyungwan students, the excavation was going to shelter almost forty members. It was going to be massive, you had to admit. You never had more than twenty students in the field till now, but you were going to lead an extraordinary team as Junmyeon craved into your brain’s folds with his hammer of words.

You wished to be with Junmyeon right now, you were more tense than usual. Junmyeon could put you in more stable mood, however you even did not think to name him while the executives were asking your possible candidates. He would kill you merciless, you knew it very well.

Eh, at least you got Sehun, Junmyeon’s brother in your team, he had a lot of similarities with Junmyeon even though he could be noisier than anyone you know, however you accepted him as your dongsaeng, as his precious noona and role model, you also knew how to put him in an order. Then you had Minseok, the eternal field-partner of yours. He was older than you, although he was engaged in a Ph.D. programme in abroad, he willingly accepted your invitation. You had four seniors, Shinhye, Yixing, Jongdae and Hyesun.

To your dismay, two of the seniors who you really could want in your team, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were in that bastard’s team. You were of the fact that they were immensely close to each other, but you wished to have them in your team as their abilities were precious.

Especially Doh Kyungsoo.

You missed that fucking bastard who preferred to be with Baekhyun.

Life, you inhaled. It was not going exactly in the way you could ask.

“On your foot, soldiers.” you called your team around you. “Do you collect all the materials you will be in need of?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae cutely pointed to his tiniest bag. “I am ready to excavate.”

“Exactly you will need every tool you have.” Shinhye smacked her husband’s shoulder. Yeah, you had a married couple in your team, although you were a year younger them, you always regarded yourself as their big sister, if not a mother. “You are going to work too much, Dae. I have sleepless nights because of the burden on your shoulders.”

You could not help but burst into laughs after the look Jongdae gave to his wife. Those idiots, they were so lovely and instead of their endless scolding sessions, they were incredibly fond of each other.

Sometimes you wonder, how having your significant other by your side would be?

You slightly shook your head, quickly climbing out of this deep cliff.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, jumping to the air. “Sejong is ready for the session!”

Baekhyun was watching you with a disgusted expression.

“Move on, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol pushed his body to forward. “We will miss the flight, Goddamnit.”

“Give him couple of minutes.” Kyungsoo chuckled. “He is fucking the girl with his eyes, frankly, he is doing it unapologetically.”

“Which girl?” Chanyeol’s eyes widened. “Do you mean, that girl? You c-

“Of course, I am not.” Baekhyun interrupted Chanyeol, staring at Kyungsoo. “She can go and fuck herself.”

“Well,” Kyungsoo stood up, placing his book into the bag. “I guess, you are going to be one to fuck her, but maybe I am wrong.”

“In her dreams.” Baekhyun laughed. “If she can manage to dream something like this, but I do not think so. That little freak can put even the nuns into a shame.”

“She is beautiful to be honest.” Chanyeol said with no different intention but observing your features carefully. “Okey maybe not the hottest girl in the town, but she is pretty, and I heard she is very clever.”

“She is.” Kyungsoo approved. “But she kicked Baekhyun’s ass twice, so he cannot endure her presence.”

“She never,” Baekhyun grunted lowly. “Kick me or my proverbial parts!”

“Did someone talk about kicking some asses?” Jongin appeared out of nowhere. “I am in.”

“Shut up, Jongin.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “Let’s pick the team.”

The smile on Kyungsoo’s face irritated Baekhyun, he wanted to erase that fucking grin so bad, punching his face but Baekhyun had to hold his manners as the team leader. If they would be in their flat, he could already beat the shit out of Kyungsoo, at least he would try.

Baekhyun hated the fact that Kyungsoo had the exact past with you and him. Three of you entered the department together, instead Kyungsoo went to another university to pursue his master, in the end he testified every moment between you and Baekhyun.

That’s why he was smiling since he learned you were going to be the other team leader.

Baekhyun was aware of the close relationship between you and Kyungsoo, one of his best friends.

Quickly Baekhyun led his team to the control point, close to your team. He was avoiding from this step, however as the leader, presenting his fucking team to your team was his responsibility. When they arrived, he took a deep breath.

“Good morning to all.” his blood started to boil when you turned to him with a displeased face expression. Your eyebrows were knitted, your fucking lips formed as a thick line, your dislike was palpable and Baekhyun knew his own face was mirroring your feelings. “I hope you are fine, could you let me present my team to you?”

Baekhyun wanted nothing but cut the shit off.

“Good morning.” you answered between your teeth. Your voice sounded extremely creepy. “Yeah, go for it.”

You do not make a favour to me, bloody woman, Baekhyun thought but he put all his efforts to control his words.

“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I am going to lead Sunkyungwan Team this year.” he looked at your team members, quickly memorized their faces. “I really look forward to work with you, I wish a good session for us. They are my members, Park Chanyeol, Doh Kyungsoo, Kim Jongin, Kim Danbi, Lee Taemin, Lee Donghae, Kim Jonghyun, Kim Kibum, Lee Seungjo, Kang Seulgi, Im Yoona, Kim Taeyeon and Kwon Yuri.”

“You are like a troop, huh?” one of your girls smiled after Baekhyun finished his presentation.

“More or less.” Baekhyun smiled back to her. What a surprise to him was the transformation of your face. You warmly smiled to the members and bowed to each of them.

Baekhyun raised his left eyebrow, but he could not avert his eyes from your smiling face.

It was pleasant like a spring day and when you smile your eyes were shining.

“Thank you.” he heard your voice. “My team is not big as yours, Park Shinhye, Kim Jongdae, Zhang Yixing, Oh Sehun, Kim Minseok and Song Hyesun.”

“You forget yourself.” Minseok slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Indy is going to lead Sejong Team as she has been leading us for the last two years, you can put your faith on her, she is the greatest.”

“Indy?” Jongin repeated your nickname with a surprised face. “Are you foreigner?”

“Do I look like?” you laughed and prevented yourself from flinching his forehead. He was such a cute kid. “That’s how my team call me.”

“Ah.” Jongin blushed and you could not control yourself anymore.

“But if you want, you can also call me as Indy.” you grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Everything must be equal for the teams since we are going to live together during a whole summer.”

“I would like to.” Jongin bowed to you.

“So do we need to add sunbae when we call you?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Have you ever called me as a sunbae, Doh Kyungsoo?” you coldly replied. “Did Sunkyungwan change your behaviours?”

“Gardens of roses turn to garths of thorns in a second.” Kyungsoo murmured but he was smiling to you, then he opened his arms, catching you off guard because you knew that Kyungsoo was not a huge fan of hugs. “Will you salute me as a good friend, or will I start calling you as sunbae?”

“Shut the fuck up, Doh.” you inhaled, but actually you were happy to see your still-working-on friendship. You moved to hug him, he held you tightly and lifted you to the air, then turned around himself, made you laugh like a 5-year-old girl.

Baekhyun did not like what was happening before his eyes. Kyungsoo had to be with Baekhyun, not hugging you for his fucking dear life, or lifting and turning you around like you were very dear to him. He hated sharing his friends with you, he already lost Junmyeon, he wanted to keep Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to himself. You should be fucking away from them, they were Baekhyun’s and only Baekhyun’s friends.

And there was another fragile issue that Baekhyun had been keeping in the deepest point of his heart and mind, like the palace of Nyx in the darkest part of Tartarus. Extremely delicate, horrendous, and even atrocious.

Baekhyun was aware of a strange presence was lying down beneath his hatred, dislike and continuous loathe towards you, there was a layer of curiosity, something could feed different layers and causing an earthquake in his life. Baekhyun knew that you were his biggest rival, but you became his rival by your talents and intelligence. He knew this and this piece of realization doubled his hate towards you.

The funny part was the things he did not realize. Baekhyun was full of confidence, he was capable of performing even miracles, however he never perceive the fact that you were also a miracle.

“So, what we are going to do?” Chanyeol asked to everyone with a huge, happy smile. Baekhyun fended himself off moaning, happy virus Chanyeol already sensed the chance of levitating the mood between the teams and playing along with it. “Are we boarding?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” one of your boys, Sehun, came close to Chanyeol. Baekhyun and you immediately glared them, noticing the chemistry between these two. Both of you wished to keep the teams apart from each other in order to reduce the obliged interactions between the leaders, but it seemed not possible even from the beginning. Baekhyun was cursing between his lips, you were swearing at the executive board in your mind.

“Indy,” Shinhye whispered to you. “Are you okey? You look like wanting to kill one of us.”

“Not you.” you answered without thinking, then registered to your words. “Ignore me, Shinhye, I am a little bit tense right now.”

“We got your back.” she blinked at you and held Jongdae’s hand. “Let’s start the adventure!”

What an adventure, you thought but silently joined them. Kyungsoo also was walking next to you.

“Why the heck you went to Sunkyungwan?” you spilled the bean. “I always believed you would stay in Sejong.”

“Yeah, that was my intention.” Kyungsoo was plain as always. “However, Sunkyungwan gives me more opportunities to secure my career, Indy.”

“I know.” you had to admit. Sejong was not generous as Sunkyungwan. “Sorry for my selfish words.”

“No worries.” he beamed. “It happens all the time, but I am really happy to work with you again.”

“Old but gold days, huh?”

“Well, it was not purely gold,” Kyungsoo followed the flows and ebbs. “Do you remember when we were almost expelled from the university?”

“Is there a way to forget those days?” you immediately took a look on Baekhyun. It was his fault, obviously. “We were shitting in our pants instead of the one who put us in that situation.”

“Come on,” Kyungsoo chuckled. “It was not only his fault, Indy, our hands were also crimson red.”

“Let me recall the memory, Doh,” you pinched his hand, he playfully pushed your fingers. “Excuse me if I am wrong, however that scumbag was the one who challenged you to confiscate the coin, because of your involvement into the incident, I had no choice but dragging your ass out of shit.”

“They caught two of us in the crime field.” Kyungsoo burst into laughs. “Professor Lee went ballistic and scolded us like we just killed a person cold heartedly.”

“And you could not see the reason behind it?” You were cutting Kyungsoo’s body with your eyes. “If someone tries to steal a coin from the excavation house during the session, I will kill them for sure. We were so lucky, the one who caught us was Professor Lee.”

“I heard you are strictest when it comes to excavation.” Kyungsoo assured you. “But try to not kill us.”

“The only one I am going to take down,” you shivered with the memory, Kyungsoo was already regretful to remind it to you. Well, maybe not so much because he wanted you and Baekhyun to realize the potential relationship you could have, and the easiest way in order to put you two in touch was making you angry. “That bastard if he will behave like the old days. We are not children anymore.”

“Have you ever been a kid?”

“Fuck off, Kyungsoo.”

“You did not change even a bit, Indy.” Kyungsoo made his statement. Obviously, you were going to keep this to yourself, taking his silent approval made you were more than happy. “You are still a pain in the ass.”

“And you are still a good boy.” you grinned, watching his lips formed around silent laughs. “Such a cute puppy for me, let me see your wagging tail.”

“I am sorry to interrupt your flirting session,” Kyungsoo turned to Baekhyun’s deadpanned face. “However, we have to move.”

“When you come across to a pretty girl,” Kyungsoo did not miss the chance of returning the favour. “You have to flirt with her. Wasn’t it your advice?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun looked at you, then turned to Kyungsoo.

You knew what was going to happen.

“He said pretty girls,” you tucked the words in Baekhyun’s mouth before he could open his fucking damn mouth. “To my dismay, I have never been pretty to correspond the standards of Byun Baekhyun the Magnificent. I am crying for the lack of beauty almost every night, I mean living without Byun Baekhyun’s interests… Such a misery.”

Kyungsoo bit his lower lip in order to hold his laugh, Baekhyun’s fists were clenching but you did not stop there.

"Ah I almost forget to ask for the name of that little village, Baekhyun.” you directly looked at his eyes since ages. “Where the girl you desperately wanted to bless with your attention left you? UN Village?”

You immediately spin on your tiptoes, then slipped towards to Sehun, leaving two of them behind of you, refusing to look at back. In the meantime, Baekhyun was throwing daggers to your back, grinding his teeth, his jaw was extremely tensed. Before Kyungsoo could stop him, he swiftly came to your side, you felt his breath on your neck.

You shivered.

You fucking shivered and Baekhyun noticed that.

“You are playing with the fire, as always.” he whispered to your ear before someone could notice what he was doing. “Did you forget who was burning with fire, baby girl?”

He quickly disappeared and started to make such a fuss in order to gather his team members around himself. You were frozen, after years, you were frozen, you missed the little smile on the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth.

You were on the verge of screaming because of the frustration you had felt. You forced yourself to proceed, walked into the plane, helped your team in order to set their belongings and place into their seats, then you retreated your own seat. It was comfortable and you could easily snatch a blanket. Your wish became true, even quicker than you expected because Sehun, your wonderful Sehun, already brought a soft blanket for you. You smiled at him, actually forgiving him for building bonds with Chanyeol since they changed their seats in order to sit next to each other and weaved your legs around the fabric.

Your brain was in autopilot, you were lost in the horrible memories. You did not want to recall them, you buried them into the cemetery of your memory. You wished nothing but never remember that day.

The day in that village.

Baekhyun was mad at himself.

His face was clouded, for the first time he was silent and sitting on the farthest seat in the plane. He really wanted to be alone, and since being vocal about his feeling was so natural for him, he told his need to the team. They willingly let him to do what he wanted, as a result, he was looking out of window, hell if a person could see something out of a plane’s window, and he was cursing himself.

He knew it was going to be a chess play. Between you and him.

It has been always like the chess.

There was a bond between you and Baekhyun, even thought you two always refused it, you also were aware of that bond. You equally hated each other and if there was a thing which could make you happier than seeing each other’s downfalls, that was the opportunity of being the one who digs the other’s grave by their hands.

He was sure on he was going to be the one who sets your body on fire, then finishes you. He was sure on he was going to be the victor, the one and only champion.

When he kills you, erases your name for all eternity, when he condemns you with demnatio memoriae, he will calmly breathe again.

You were a pain in the ass, even when you were not around of Baekhyun, you had a place in his mind since that fucking day he met you. Your presence was like a tree, how much he could try, he could neither find your roots in his mind nor cut them all.

You were his enemy; he was going to treat you as you deserved.

There would be no turning back.

But…

He was mad at himself.

He made a wrong move while he was trying to disturb you, shake your cage in order to give you a lesson.

He also remembered.

The day in that fucking village.

[moonlitceleste]

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST *@astoriaandromeda @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @iloontjeboontje @jayjayspixiepop @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood @ultimatetornshipper

[my-writings-and-musings]

First off I'm a big fan of your writing style and Ii absolutely love how you write the bots. I was wondering if you would be opening to writing more for that one prompt where a bot's S/O can't accept compliments easily. I'd would really love it if you did it with Megatron, Swerve, and Fort Max if you can. 🥺

Thanks again for all the work you do 💞

Thank you! I do try to stand out a bit but keep it close to canon! I can also definitely write Megs and Swerve, I'm trying to limit the number of characters so I can get through asks faster, hope that's okay!

Megatron

"You're learning at exceptional speed, I've never had a better student."

The words were so startling, even if hardly unprompted, that the data pad in your hands nearly slid free.

"Oh, I doubt that!" you replied, smile that didn't meet your eyes forming on reflex. Sitting at the very desk you were seated on, Megatron unfortunately didn't take your response in stride, and instead blinked in surprise. Your words hadn't managed to throw him off as they did so many others. Pretending you didn't notice, you went right back to scanning the prose he'd praised you for coming up with just moments before.

"I can assure you..." he began, a little more softly. The prickle of anxiety made you tense on the spot, like a cat preparing to jump for dear life. Personal experience was telling you that this wasn't safe, that praise was always a false flag for something foul, but you were left frozen on the spot. Warring emotions of self preservation and fondness for the mech kept you still as he continued. "I have had the opportunity to work with many individuals, and I am quite certain you are among the most gifted."

"I don't think-"

"Y/N." he interrupted, soft and gentle yet firm. You flinched, and he left his own data pad to lift your chin with a digit. Tears gathered in your eyes on reflex, and you tried to rub them away, twisting between feeling foolish for crying and being wary still of untrustworthy words. Yet there was little anyone could doubt in his kind red optics.

"I know what it is, to doubt anyone could say anything pleasant on your behalf." You sniffled at how cleanly he cut into the heart of the pain. "But please trust me when I say; I find you a remarkable individual, and you deserve to hear it."

Swerve

"I don't think anyone has ever mixed a drink that well on their first try!"

Uncertain how the bot could find the odd smelling concoction to be at all tasty, you brushed off the words both out of habit and disbelief, as it wasn't too hard to believe Swerve was just sparing your feelings. He did consider you his favorite squishy, after all.

"You don't have to pretend, Swerve." you replied more or less playfully, the small bit of pain at your perceived failure easy to quash down after a lifetime of practice.

"There's no need to pretend, this is top notch!" he replied emphatically, taking another deep drink to emphasize his point. You were more than a little baffled by his commitment to the part. There was no need to keep it up, and most people would see that by now. Uncertainty made you shift on the bar, your hands pushing the mixers you'd used back into some semblance of order so that they might be occupied with something productive.

"Seriously, you're not going to hurt my feelings." you said a little more softly, looking away from him while you spoke. There was a powerful desire to end the conversation here, lest it go somewhere that could hurt you, so you prayed the barkeep would stop pretending and let it be. For your sake, at least...

"But I mean it." he insisted, making you double down on looking away. Before you could indulge your instinct to flee a tender hand cupped your tiny body, the bot equivalent of a loose hug for your small human self. Vulnerability powerful enough to make you tremble also made it impossible to look at him as he spoke. "Hey, don't be sad, I really mean it okay?"

A gap toothed smile met your gaze when it finally raised, and you allowed yourself to be pulled in for a proper hug to his broad front.

"I know better than anyone how hard it is to hear nice things about yourself sometimes..." he said, leaving it at that as his embrace did the rest of the talking. He wanted you to know he meant it, with all of his spark, and he was willing to wait as long as it took for you to believe him.

[oasisofgalaxies]

heyyyy hiiiiiiiii awe heyyyy

im bad abt asking abt specific characters so here's like some fun general questions abt sfgg cast. who's considered the scariest?

who (if anyone) has the LEAST experience with being in space (aside from like. yknow. scar)

out of everyone, which two people would be the WORST at navigating the ship (or which two would be the best)

who gets lost the most?

who asks the most questions/is the most curious?

who's most likely to probably break something and then act like they didn't break it?

what's the crews favorite planet?

have they discovered anything super cool?

Don’t feel bad about asking for specific guys!!!! I love answering any and all questions it feeds me JAJS

The scariest? Ohhh I guess it depends! Doc is pretty damn intimidating on his own. Jasper and Heldur are also pretty scary- Jasper just because he’s standoffish and also a Giant Werewolf Dude and Heldur because he’s fucking TALL, also standoffish, and could throw a truck if he wanted to. A lot of folks can be considered scary here HAHSHA

To answer your question tho, Oscar. For pure technical skill alone and what he’s capable of? Absolutely Oscar. He’s a sweet guy but he can kill someone 15 different ways with just his bare hands.

Least experience goes toooo… Wels and Heldur!!! When they were alive, their kingdom and planet hadn’t achieved space travel yet! But now being reanimated in the form of armor and casually being told going to space is super easy now was one hell of a whiplash. yea they are VERY new to this JAJDJS

NEVER LET MAYHEM FLY THE SHIP. HE WILL PLOT A ROUTE WAY TOO CLOSE TO A RED DWARF JUST TO SCARE EVERYONE. Automatic winner of worst pilot award he SUCKS

There’s a lot of people I could nominate for being the worst at walking around the ship. Xisuma trips down the stairs a lot and Zed’s herd instinct makes him impulsively follow crowds and get super lost. Honestly Zed’s issue is kinda funny so he’s one of them- XB wouldn’t be great at it since he doesn’t go far from the water tank thing he spends a lot of time in (tfw you have gills) so he’d get lost super easy.

Keralis asks a whole lot of questions! Mainly because the ship’s systems and whatnot aren’t at ALL like his home hive. He just wants to make sure he knows what everything does. Also it’s important he knows that if he’s gonna be the ship’s architect and whatnot JAJSJA- Also Wels asks a lot of questions but just cause he has no fucking clue what anything is. When grumbot went online for the first time and spoke over the intercoms I think he nearly leapt out of his armor

Breaking something? Hm that’s hard I’ll have to think o- Grian. It’s Grian. Grian OR Gavin. They are the worst. Dynamic duo of touching things that they aren’t supposed to.

Oh they have a lot of favorites!! Lush is loved by a lot of people cause it’s just so nice there! Super pleasant, always a nice temperature, trade markets are super accessible and friendly, and there’s giant plants!!! Also they’re quite fond of their Hermitterra planets since they’re the ones that made them all habitable and nice! Besides the lunar incident. No one likes talking about the lunar incident.

Well, they found Mumbo on a trash planet and Gem was in a crystal spire! As for actual discoveries I sadly haven’t thought that far. Actually- if I implement the Rift somehow, that’ll be one!!

[from-seas-to-skies]

The Teacher / Bakugou x Reader ♕︎

warnings: NSFW, teacher/student relationship, oral sex, spitting, sir kink, slut shaming, somewhat brat taming, age difference, unprotected sex

words: 5,772

(a/n): Bakugou is 30 in this; reader is younger (college age)

-

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

One, two, three, four… How long was it going to take until class ended again?

Looking up from your notebook, you stare up at the clock, the large, monotonous face seemingly glaring straight back at you. You don’t know how it happens, but time always moves so slow when it comes to your calculus class. Frankly, you’d rather ditch the class altogether, but if you wanted to graduate from college, you had to pass. Curse stupid curriculums and all that shit.

However, despite absolutely dreading having to stare at numbers for a solid hour and a half, there is a plus side to taking this dreaded class. In fact, it’s the very reason why you signed up for it in the first place. You’ve heard so many wonderful things about it, all from girls and guys alike, and you knew you had to see it up close and personal – rather, you had to see him.

Professor Bakugou.

Age thirty, drives a Land Rover, and, most importantly, single.

He’s about as dreamy as they come; a complete and utter Dreamboat Annie, absolutely huge in both height and stature, intelligent, and handsome. He’s only been a professor for a few years, but it’s been made apparent to the school that he’s worth it. Not only are his teaching methods and lectures incredible, but he’s turned out some of the highest grades your college has even seen. That itself is impress, and, combined with the hype of how hot he is, it’s no wonder people rush to take his classes.

So, when it came time for class schedules to come out, you were excited, needless to say. Despite having a general disliking to math in the first place, you figured this one guy could be what it takes to turn that idea around. Oh, but that was before you first laid your eyes on him.

Shit, you had heard that he was attractive – godly, even – but this? You weren’t expecting this. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon, and his sharp jawline could easily cut diamonds. It sounds cliché, that’s true, but you have no other way of putting it. Words did not do this man any justice.

At first, his constant yelling and crude demeanor were a total turn off. Professor Bakugou was essentially the teacher version of Gordon Ramsay, and you weren’t entirely sure if you liked that or not. However, as time continued, you actually grew accustomed to it. In fact, if he didn’t yell at least once during the class, you’d immediately figured he was having a bad day.

That’s when the thoughts began. Call it infatuation, a mindless crush, whatever, but you wanted Professor Bakugou. Your eyes soon began to watch his large hands flex while he wrote on the board rather than the content itself. You’d watch his forearms flex while he turned the page in his textbook, prominent veins inviting you for a better look. How you longed to touch him, to grab his sturdy shoulders or pull his wild hair. He always looked so good, clothes tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly.

You’d fantasize about the most random of scenarios, each of them usually ending up with him bending you over his desk at the front of the room. You liked colder days the best, especially since Professor Bakugou had the habit of wearing form-fitting sweaters that outlined his massive pecs or the swell of his arms. You wanted to make him feel better, to sit underneath the desk and suck him off while he taught the rest of the class. Those narrow hips had to be strong, and you’d be damned if you never got to experience their power at least once.

It’s almost as if Professor Bakugou had cast a spell over all of his students. Nearly all of them gushed about how great he was; and, if you were in the proper company, they exchanged fantasies or proclamations about how fucking gorgeous he was. You’d usually grow bitter at these types of conversations. It was a crush, for fuck’s sake. There was no need to get all pouty like some problematic schoolgirl.

Still, the thoughts wouldn’t go away, not when he taught, not when he yelled. His booming voice became a part of your wicked fantasies, wondering how it’d sound to hear him grunting your name or commanding you to spread his legs for him. Again and again, you told yourself that it was fine, that people develop crushes on their teachers all the time. It was only in the dead of night that you’d have your hand stuffed down your pants and mouth moaning his name into a pillow was when you regretted it. It was a phase, nothing more.

And yet, over two months into the semester, and these thoughts still won’t go away. The constant ticking of the clock brings you back down to Earth, your eyes focusing on the problems before you. Swallowing thickly, you loosen your hand, now just noticing how hard you’ve begun to clench your pencil. Your insides feel oddly warm, that pleasant, heavy feeling sitting behind your belly button. Dammit, you mentally curse, this is not the time to be getting distracted.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

If only class could end sooner.

“Right,” Professor Bakugou suddenly says from his desk, “this Friday, I’m holding a study session for the upcoming exam on Monday. There’s only going to be a limited number of seats available, so if you wanna join, here’s your chance.” With his words, he holds a blank sheet of notebook paper up, a rather bored expression on his face.

He must be tired, you think, unconsciously biting your bottom lip. But why?

Around you, students shuffle to the front of the class, waiting for a chance to scribble their names onto the paper. Some seem a bit more excited than others, obviously arching their backs or flipping their hair over their shoulders. With a scoff, you look back down to your work. Did they really think they could catch his attention like that? Yeah, so he doesn’t show off a ring on his finger, but it’s pretty likely that he has people throwing themselves at him all the time. Besides, Professor Bakugou is a strict guy; there’s no way he’d engage in a relationship with a student.

You really shouldn’t be getting your hopes up. It’s pointless to pine after your teacher like that, especially with the risks that come along with getting involved with each other. Still, you can’t help but feel bitter. Professor Bakugou is a god that walks amongst men, so how could you not want somebody like him?

“Alright, that’s all for today. Class dismissed,” Professor Bakugou calls out. Dammit, you spaced out again. Maybe you should get that checked out?

With a sigh, you stuff your belongings into your backpack and draw to a stand. You wish it would be spring already; trudging through snow and ice is never fun, and the fact that your dorm is basically on the other side of campus makes it even more rough. Pulling your coat on and slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you make way towards the classroom door, completely unaware of a set of eyes watching your every move.

-

“Man, this is impossible,” your best friend, Ashido Mina, groans. “I’m going to bomb this exam for sure!” Sprawled out on her stomach, she squirms on the floor, her face scrunching with her displeasure.

You, on the other hand, sit cross-legged across from her. Notebooks and math textbooks surround the two of you, your laptop and calculator at the ready. Bags of chips and pretzels sit to the side, along with abandoned coffee cups and empty water bottles. Professor Bakugou’s exams were notorious for being hard, but at the same time, if you payed attention in class and studied, you’d succeed. The thing is, though, that neither you nor Mina are the best when it comes to math.

“I thought you went to his study session?” you ask, glancing up from your own notebook.

Flashing you a pout, Mina nervously runs a hand through her fluffy hair. “Well, yeah, but you know how it goes! A secluded area with Professor Bakugou! It’s like a dream come true! It was hard to focus when he’s leaning over your shoulder like that…”

Rolling your eyes, you puff in amusement. “Really? Mina, you know what will happen if you fail this test.”

“Yeah, yeah, but come on! You can’t blame me! You would’ve done the exact same thing!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yes you would’ve!” Mina exclaims, pointing an accusing finger your way. “Don’t pretend like you don’t ogle Professor Bakugou during class! He’s one hell of a hunk, isn’t he? I never knew college professors could be so hot!” she gushes, a giggle following her words. “And that study session – oh my god, I nearly thought I was going to heart attack when he helped me solve this one problem. He’s so warm and he smells great!”

You cock an eyebrow at her. “You were smelling our teacher?”

At that, Mina blows a raspberry and waves a dismissive hand. “I’m not Kaminari, sweetheart. I have class. Besides, Professor Bakugou smells like caramel. Can you believe it? I wonder if he uses cologne or feminine soap.”

Caramel, eh? Now that’s something you can get behind.

“You want him to fuck you, right?”

Wait, what?

Narrowing your gaze at her, your brows knit closely together. “What kind of question is that?”

Mina rolls her eyes. “What, like you don’t think about it? Practically everyone on this campus has thought about it at some point or another? I mean, hello! He’s totally Daddy material. I’ve heard that he goes to the gym sometimes here on campus – turns out he’s huge.”

Huge. Of course this is what Mina chooses to focus on. You wish you had a spray bottle to squirt at her horny ass.

“And I don’t mean muscle wise,” Mina continues, a mischievous expression coming to her face. “I bet he tastes like candy.”

“Mina.”

“Why yes, Mr. Bakugou sir! I’ll gladly suck your fat cock for an A!”

“Mina.”

“His ass is really nice, too. I wouldn’t mind pegging him-“

“MINA.”

“What?”

You smack your forehead and groan as your hand trails down your face. “Are you going to study or not? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather graduate than work at McDonald’s for the rest of my life.”

Mina purses her lips at you in an excessive pout. “You’re such a fun sponge, holy shit. I think you need a good dicking down by Professor Bakugou. Maybe then you’d stop staring after him all the time during class.”

Your face heats up at her words, but there’s no way you’re owning up to that. Okay, so yeah, maybe getting fucked by him would be a dream come true, but you’re more realistic than that. “And you’re not concerned at all that he’s our teacher? You know, like he could lose his job and you could be expelled? That doesn’t bother you? At all?”

Mina shrugs. “Meh.”

“Woooow…. You really are shameless.”

“Hey, you win some, you lose some. If I could get that man to put a ring on my finger, then I’d be okay with it.”

“Yeah, because you definitely want to bring your math professor home. Uh huh, great one. Tell me how that goes.”

With a grunt, Mina rolls over and sits up. “Whatever, man. I’m hungry, so I’m going to go down to the dining hall. Wanna come with?”

Glancing at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand, you see that it’s only 5:15. True, you could get a bite to eat, but you’d rather stay back and finish a few more problems. “I think I’ll join up with you later,” you tell Mina.

She nods her head and offers you a small smile. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.” Gathering up her things, she unceremoniously shoves them into her backpack and salutes you with a goodbye. After she pulls the door shut behind her, you turn back to the task at hand.

It shouldn’t be this hard to solve these last couple of problems, but your brain is really starting to feel the struggle. A dull ache is already forming between your eyeballs, and you truly wonder if you’re going to make it through this or not. Maybe you should take a break, or at least give your eyes a rest. Still, that little stubborn streak in you tells you to carry on. You only have a few more problems left, and you’re so close to finally finishing!

As you set to work, the digits on your alarm clock change as time drags on. Okay, so maybe you’re demanding too much of yourself. Your brain is absolutely fried, and your headache is spreading. Glancing back up at the clock, luminous green lines glare a 5:31. Jeez, it’s only been sixteen minutes since you last checked, yet it seems as though hours have passed. You really want to finish this study session, but the last problem is throwing you in for a loop.

You’ve already scoured your notes and the textbook for how to go about the problem, but your mind is drawing up with a blank. It has to be because you’re tired, right? It’s not that hard… Or is it?

“Dammit,” you mutter, sitting back and pressing your palms flat against the floor. Again, you look at the clock. Frankly, you don’t want to spend all night pouring over this, and you don’t want to skip dinner, either. You know for a fact that Mina will beat your ass for skipping out on food. “Screw it.”

Scrambling off the floor, you throw a thick coat on and slide on your sneakers. Professor Bakugou sometimes has the habit of frequenting his office during the weekends (or so you’ve heard), and you desperately need to know how to solve this problem. Chances are something similar will be on the exam, and you want to get as good of a grade as possible. Plus, if he is there…

You swallow thickly. Now is not the time to let Mina’s previous words get to you.

And so, with your notebook tucked underneath an arm, you take off.

It’s a damned shame that his office is practically on the other side of campus, but you figure it wouldn’t be too bad to get your body moving after spending so much time hunched over. Now that you think about, you could just email him, but you’re not sure how quick he’d respond. This is a dire moment. Okay, maybe not, but still. Maybe you want to see Professor Bakugou. Maybe.

You’re thankful when you finally enter the building, free of the flurries of snow and the seeping chill. Stomping your feet free from snow, you look around, creeped out yet fascinated by the silent, empty halls. You doubt very many people are here besides lingering staff and the janitors. One could only hope that Professor Bakugou is frequenting his office.

As you draw closer and closer to his office, your footsteps bounce off the walls, reminding you of how alone you are. There’s a fifty/fifty chance that he’s even going to be in his office, yet your heart pounds frantically in your chest. If he isn’t there, you’ll just simply turn around and stalk back to your dorm and hope for the best. If he is there, well, you’re not entirely sure what you should say.

He’s your teacher, dammit. It shouldn’t be this hard going up to him and asking him for help. It’s literally his job to help students out; nothing more, nothing less. Still, Mina’s words ring throughout your mind. It’s just a crush, you remind yourself. Stop getting so worked up about it.

There it is, just straight up ahead – Professor Bakugou’s office.

Like the other offices lining the hall, it’s made from a heavy wood, a frosted window place in the top half with Professor Bakugou’s name printed on it. A simple door like this shouldn’t intimidate you so much, but yet it does. All you have to do is knock on it, wait for a possible response, and then go from there. However, now that you’re in front of it, you somewhat hope he’s not there. Your palms are growing clammy and your throat feels fuzzy.

“Here goes nothing,” you tell yourself, reaching up and rapping on the door.

For a moment, nothing happens. Perhaps Lady Luck has decided to spare some mercy on you, after all. Releasing a pent-up breath you didn’t know you were even holding, you prepare to step back and walk away, but then a muffled come in sounds through the door.

Oh, shit.

You wince as your cowardice floods you with a renewed force. There’s no way you can just leave now, not if you want Professor Bakugou potentially chasing you down. Taking in a deep breath, you turn the brass knob and poke your head inside. “Uh, Professor Bakugou?”

Oh, shit.

There he is, sitting behind an oak desk, hunched down over a stack of papers. He holds up a single finger, a signal for you to give him a moment. Immediately, your eyes skim over his exposed forearms, skim over the tight black turtleneck that fits him like a glove. Rolled sleeves, watch on wrist, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose, he’s just dripping with classy sexiness.

The steady tick tock, tick tock fills the otherwise silent room. It grates on your already wired nerves, mocks you for just standing there, waiting. You can’t help but glance at its face – 5:49. It’s already dark out, winter’s everlasting darkness sapping the Earth’s light. Stepping fully inside the room, you gently shut the door behind you, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

After another moment or so, he finally clicks his pen closed, tosses it onto the desk, and leans back in his chair. “Oi – what do you want?”

Removing your notebook from underneath your arm, you hold it out for him to take. “I was… I was wondering if you could explain how to work out this problem?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Professor Bakugou sits upright and glances at what you’ve written. “We discussed this during the study session on Friday.” His eyes dart up to yours. “I’m surprised you weren’t there.”

Is he singling you out right now? It feels like he’s singling you out right now. But wait, doesn’t that also mean that he noticed you not being there? He’s just saying that to say it, right? …Right?

“There was a lot on my mind,” you say softly.

Professor Bakugou sighs. “Alright, come here.” Maybe it’s the gruffness of his voice, but the simple command nearly has you whimpering on the spot. Jesus, you need to get your act together!

“Of course, sir,” you reply, the title subconsciously rolling off your tongue. Skirting around the desk, you come to his side, unaware of him shifting in his seat.

“It’s really not that hard if you put your damned brain to use,” he grunts, picking his pen back up. You notice how the tendons in his hand flex with the subtle movement; actually, now that you’re up close in personal, you can clearly see the veins racing up his forearms, the sheen of blond hairs.

Warmth seems to radiate off of him, just like how Mina said. You wonder if he gets hot easily, or if that’s just the way he is. Either way, you shimmy the slightest bit closer to him, eager to ward off the chill that still clings to you from the outside. He goes into great detail about how to go through each step surrounding the problem; you lean over his shoulder as he goes through the steps, the heat emanating from his skin drawing you in more and more. With each breath, the scent of caramel floods your senses. You’re almost half tempted to press your nose to his nape and get a better smell, but that’d just be creepy. Plus, even if you did that, Professor Bakugou could probably pick you up and literally throw you out of his office.

Still, despite knowing the risk, your mind takes off, just like it usually does whenever you’re in his presence. It would just be so easy to squeeze his thick arms, to run your fingers through his thick blonde hair. Maybe you could push the collar of his turtleneck down, expose his neck and bite the pulse. It’s almost ridiculous just how big he is, how easily he could overpower you. A familiar warmth floods your system, encasing your insides and clutching onto your heart. This is bad – very, very bad.

“Oi, what the hell are you staring at?” Professor Bakugou barks.

Snapping yourself back to attention, you notice him staring at you, his glasses now off his handsome face. If possible, he’s even more attractive up close; thick lashes, full lips, a slight gleam in his eyes that demand power and control. He almost looks entirely different like this, face lax instead of fixed with a scowl. Good lord, you really are whipped for him.

“Oh, um, sorry,” you ramble, eyes going wide. “It’s just that your hair looks really… fluffy…?”

“…Hah?”

You quickly avert your eyes. “Nevermind…”

“You know,” Professor Bakugou starts, voice low, “you stare at me a lot during class, too. You’re not very subtle.”

You wince at his words. “I… I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and tosses down his pen. “You’re not majoring in theatre, are you? Because you suck at acting.” He flashes you a cocky smirk when you look back to him. “Just admit it – you like what you see, don’t ya? Can’t say I blame you.”

Okay, wow, cocky much. Yeah, sure, he’s an absolute babe, but wouldn’t you think he’d be a bit more… modest?

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Didn’t know my math professor thought so highly of himself.”

“Tch. Looks like you got a damn mouth on you, after all. Well, if you’re done undressing me with your eyes, do you want to learn how to do this problem or not? I don’t like repeating myself, but I’ll let it slide just this once since I like you.”

Wait, wait, hold up. Did he just say he likes you?

“You’re a good student,” Professor Bakugou continues. “Even if you do focus on me more than my lecture.”

Is this how the conversation was supposed to play out? Because damn you’re nearly shaking, and you still have your coat on. He knows too much, dammit. He’s known this entire time and he’s playing you.

“And yet you could’ve easily told me to stop,” you shoot right back, sick of being prosecuted like this. Sure, it might be a bad idea to pick a fight with a teacher, but this is outside of classroom hours; and, frankly, he can kiss your ass. Crude demeanor or not, you’re not about to let this man push you around.

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

No. There’s no way he just said that. This big-headed narcissist is relishing in this, isn’t he? Bastard.

“Hate to break it to you, Professor, but almost everyone stares at you like that,” you tell him. You realize you just admitted it to the accusation, but there’s no point in defending it anymore.

“Like I give a shit about the others? Really? You’re gonna talk about them?” He scoffs his amusement and leans back in his chair, thick arms crossing over his chest. “Did you come here to ask me questions about the exam or did you just want to be with me all by yourself?”

You hesitate. Is that really the reason you came here tonight? The whole way here you debated this yourself, Mina’s words circling around your head. No, you’re smarter than this. It’s a bad idea to get involved with a teacher – it’s wrong.

“I’m not going to lie or deny the truth,” Professor Bakugou continues, his voice dropping to an uncharacteristically low pitch. “I’m also not stupid. You’re just as scared as me, aren’t you? Of the repercussions.”

Your mouth falls agape. What is he going on about…?

Slowly, Professor Bakugou sits back up, his face getting dangerously close to yours. Hot breath fans over the bottom half of your face. His eyes are heavily lidded, his lashes kissing his cheeks. “I’m not going to force anything on you,” he murmurs. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Oh my god.

Unable to resist the close proximity anymore, you shoot forward, your hands landing on the arms of the chair; Professor Bakugou’s lips are softer than you anticipated, but in no way is he gentle. Right away he’s clutching the back of your neck, dragging you forward so you’re settled on his lap. The arms of the chair pinch into your thighs at the tight fit, but you could care less. You’re on Professor Bakugou’s lap, you have his tongue in your mouth, his hands landing on your ass and kneading the flesh.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, his hands slipping under your shirt and gliding over your lower back. You arch into his touch, a breathless moan slipping past your lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you pant.

“I know.”

Fuck, it’s all so good, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth and hands unbuttoning your jeans. A startled noise erupts from your throat as a large hand slides into the front of your pants, cupping your crotch. You buck into his touch, all sense dissipating from your thoughts as you fervently grind into his heated palm. There’s a clutter of paper and office supplies as they hit the floor. Before you know it, you’re rising from the chair, your ass landing on the wooden desk instead.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” Professor Bakugou grits. Your ass is barely on the desk by the time he’s done dragging you forward, your jeans aggressively getting yanked off, your underwear following suit. Your thighs instinctively snap shut at the cold air making contact with your bared skin, but strong hands pry them apart, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “I wanna make you cum with my tongue.”

“Wai- Ah! Fuck!” you cry out, your fingers clutching onto the edge of the desk as his head ducks down, his mouth latching onto your sex. Until now, you weren’t even aware that you were dripping with arousal. Sinful noises spill from between your legs as Professor Bakugou fucks you with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive parts.

“God, you’re such a slut.”

Smack.

You cry out as he brings a hand down on the innermost part of your thigh; your nerves quake, your blood pumps wildly through your veins. Again, he slaps your thigh, a growl tearing itself from his chest as he looks up, his eyes catching yours.

“Say it.”

Smack.

“I – I’m a slut,” you babble, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

Smack.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m a slut!” you exclaim, voice cracking.

“I expect you to refer to me properly,” he says darkly, his pupils dilating to the point where you could barely see his irises. “Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

A single smirk is thrown your way before his mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. His moves are quick, sensual. It’s clear he’s experienced, and you don’t blame him. Just look at him for Christ’s sake. The man is basically sex on legs, all nicely wrapped up in a turtleneck sweater and a simple pair of slacks. The pleasure only heightens as his fingers come into play, prodding at your hole; the tips just barely push past the muscle, leaving you moaning even louder and clutching harder on the desk. Your fingernails scratch the surface, the lacquer coming off.

“Tasty little brat, aren’t ya?” he drawls. Your entire body jolts as he spits on your sex. “I could get used to doing this.”

“Please, sir,” you plead, desperation filling your voice. You want his mouth back on you. You want to cum. “Please, it feels so good…”

Professor Bakugou clicks his tongue. “Shit, you’re even obedient. How nice.” He redoubles his efforts, then, wet noises filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

“Shit, shit, oh my god,” you babble, your body tensing. Still, his tongue digs in just right and there goes your sanity, flying out the window as you cum.

A deep chuckle fills your ears as Professor Bakugou sucks it down; drawing away, he flashes you his tongue, your arousal coating his tongue before he makes a show of swallowing the last bit of it. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he draws to a stand. The tent in his slacks is obvious, the front of it darker than the rest. Your insides squeeze around nothing, the idea of making him get like that making you feel hotter than before.

You’re hypnotized as he pulls his hands away. His movements are slow and methodical, the clink of his belt echoing throughout the room. Swallowing thickly, you bite your lip as he leisurely undoes his belt and slacks. Blood rushes through your ears, your mind a complete mess. You feel dizzy with want, with the need to sink your teeth into the swell of his pectoral, to claw the plains of his back.

All the air is sucked from your lungs when he finally pulls his cock out, the head flushed a deep red. Your eyes trail over the prominent veins, the fat bead of precum pushing its way out the tip. Fuck, he’s huge, both in length and girth. Whoever told Mina that he was big wasn’t lying. Your legs subconsciously spread even wider, a silent plead for him to fill you up and fuck you raw.

“Tell me you want this,” he husks. He does the honor of unzipping your coat and slipping it off your shoulders before easing you onto your back. The cold from the wood permeates through your shirt, brings a new wave of goosebumps to your flesh.

“Only if you tell me the same thing,” you croak. “Do you fuck all of your students who walk in through that door?”

“No,” Professor Bakugou blatantly says, and you can tell he’s being earnest. “It’s wrong of me to think so, but I’ve been wanting to do something with you since I saw you. It sounds like some sappy bullshit, but it’s the truth. I was too much of a pussy to ask you out for a coffee.”

Something about hearing him confess his feelings to you sets your heart alight. A slight smile tugs at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Tch. And you’re a fucking brat.”

Hunching over you, a large hand plants itself by your head while the other guides his cock to your awaiting hole. A shaky breath passes through your mouth as he pushes himself in; the stretch burns, his thick cock filling you up in a way that you didn’t even know was possible.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes. “Look at you, sucking in my cock like that. What a good little slut. I bet you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? I bet you touched yourself while thinking about this very moment, about me fucking you on my desk like this.” A surprised squeak bursts from your throat as he grabs your legs and throws him over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half. “Gotta fuck you nice and deep, right? Because that’s how a slut like you likes it.”

Like this, with your knees almost touching your ears, the tip of his cock hits your soft spot. A pathetic whimper comes from you as he grinds his cock into you, his eyes carefully watching your erotic expressions, figuring out what you like best.

Before long, he’s fucking into with vigor, his hips moving restlessly. His cock pounds into you mercilessly, the slap of skin against skin mixing with your cries. His mouth is at your throat, teeth skimming your jugular before he latches onto your thundering pulse. You helplessly claw at his shoulders, your fingers bunching into the fabric of his shirt. You’re so fucking full, your velvety walls clamping around his cock selfishly. A blend of curses and yes, fuck, you fucking slut fill your ears; he’s panting hard, a slight chuckle breaking through every once in a while.

“Fucking let everyone know who’s fucking you this good,” he grits. “Jesus, look at the mess you’re making…”

“Professor Bakugou!” you whine. “Your cock feels so good… Fuck, fuck, oh my god, yes-“

“Katsuki. My name is Katsuki.”

Katuski.

The name rolls around your brain like a loose bolt. It settles on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to be let out.

It’s when you cum that you shout his name, your walls tightening around him harshly while your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders. A load groan rumbles from the depths of his chest as he follows suit shortly after, his hips moving erratically as his cum splashes against your insides.

The both of you are sweating, panting messes by the time he finally pulls out. You whimper as you clench around nothing, the emptiness a bit too much to bear. Surprisingly, Professor Bakugou – no, Katsuki – is gentle as he cleans you up, his free hand rubbing your side. Swallowing your pride, you clear your throat.

His eyes flick up, land on yours. “What.”

“Do you…” You worry your bottom lip. “Do you want to get coffee sometime?”

Katsuki snorts. “Wow, got a real fucking charmer here, don’t I? How about you come to my place instead and I make you a proper dinner. You didn’t eat yet, did you?”

As if on cue, your stomach growls. Well, you did deny Mina’s offer for dinner, after all. You smile nervously and give him a shrug.

Chest swelling (with pride, you assume), Katsuki flashes you a cocky smile. “I’m a damn good cook, brat. I’ll cook a meal that will have you weak in the knees.”

“Maybe… Maybe you could finally show me how to do that problem?” you offer.

He rolls his eyes. “Will you finally pay attention this time or will I have to pound it into your brain?”

[nowoyas]

Almost Wet (NSFW)

Masterlist (EA) - Masterlist (General)

A/N: no mom I’m not shopping for lingerie don’t worry I’m writing porn

Summary: Izuku doesn’t sleep often, but when he does, it’s not uncommon for him to dream, and dream vividly.

Warnings/notes: smut. it’s smut. fairly vanilla, mild praise kink (reader receiving), biting. reader has tiddies and a vagina. This is a spinoff to Edible Arrangements and takes place after EA 15, but reading EA is not necessarily required to understand this fic.

Word count: 3100+

It isn’t often that Izuku dreams.

Not that he doesn’t dream nearly every time he sleeps—it’s just rare for him to find either the ability or the willingness to sleep most nights. Whatever he’s doing that night consumes his attention so wholly that he’ll look up to the sound of you moving around the house to get ready for class and realize it’s well past morning and he’s read an entire book in a single sitting.

If asked, he blames his vampire physiology, blames the virus holding his death hostage for his near-nocturnal habits.

Of course, it’s not all his vampirism calling the shots on when he sleeps—if you pried, really pried, he might eventually tell you about the kinds of dreams he has.

He dreams of memories. Typically, not pleasant ones—the rare times he’s sleeping, he finds himself dreaming of mundane airports, of the hours leading up to the worst experience of his life, always knowing exactly what’s coming but with no power to change his course, as though he’s been attached to a rail that will only ever lead him to one destination. He dreams of police stations, of paparazzi, of accusations regarding the deaths of nearly a hundred passengers and flight crew members.

The dreams morph, but the memories are raw and ever-recognizable, twisting only in such ways to remind him: he has no power. He can’t protect anyone. He’d only have to do everything differently for even a chance to save a single person.

So maybe the truth he won’t admit to is not that being a vampire makes it hard for him to keep a “normal” sleep schedule, but that his own memories destroy him, come for assault the moment he lets his guard down. And who could blame him, really, with memories like these?

But then there’s you. Your presence fills a previously too-big house, forces out the loneliness so thoroughly Izuku’s wont to forget that this house used to feel like a tomb. Sometimes now he dreams of good memories, of you cuddled up on the couch with him in an attempt to soothe both your hearts, of you giggling in the kitchen and eating ice cream while he cooks dinner, always of you, any good memories he’d had before his worst day tainted with the knowledge of what’s to come.

Nightmares remain the most frequent. Nowadays, you feature in those, too—the most prominent divergence from reality he sees when he closes his eyes. He dreams of you leaving, never to return. He dreams of waking up and knowing you’re gone, that you haven’t been here in some time, and finding one of your jackets tucked away in the laundry room. But now, he can even dream of all the nice things, a horror-free rest that finds him pushing through days with renewed energy.

Tonight, his eyes drift shut against his will, no longer able to fight the pull of sleep another day, and tonight, he hopes that if he’s to dream, it’s a sweet dream, of closeness to you.

~

He wakes to the familiar feeling of your hands in his hair. Your gentle fingers massage his scalp deliciously, pulling a pleased purr from his chest. His face is enveloped completely in whatever he’d been using as a pillow, something like cotton or lace (maybe both?) scratching against one cheek amid velvet-smooth surface area—his hand rests beside him, little but that same velvet-smoothness greeting his palm and fingertips. He runs his hand over the surface experimentally, attempting to feel out what, exactly, his current pillow is before he opens his eyes—the pillow easily gives way and moves with his hand, a soft gasp entering his ears and shooting straight to his crotch when he realizes it sounds distinctly like you.

He lifts his head, meets your wide eyes with a sense of dread in his heart that almost stops his purring. (Almost.)

It takes him a moment to realize what’s going on, and every part of him (every part of him) stiffens.

His eyes roam the sight in front of (or rather, below) him ravenously. Your jaw slack, pupils blown, hair still sleep-mussed. Bite marks of varying levels of freshness littering both sides of your neck, announcing to the world that you are under the protection of a vampire, that you’re his—

He shudders, eyes moving further down. You’re wearing a tank top that’s maybe a size too small for you—one strap has fallen off your shoulder, and as his eyes trail downward, it doesn’t take a genius to see why.

He’d been laying his head on your chest, and during the night, your tank top and the bra beneath somehow ended up pulled down, exposing most of one breast and all of the other.

Oh god. He must have been moving his hands during the night—there’s no other explanation for how you ended up half exposed, his hand groping you shamelessly in his sleep—you’re going to hate him, you’ll call the cops, you’ll find a group of vampire hunters and—

He's rattling out apologies nonstop, desperately looking for some way to make you forgive him (nevermind that he can’t seem to look away or remove his hand from your chest), when you simply laugh that wonderful laugh and place a hand against his cheek. “Izuku, sweetheart, I’m not mad,” you say sweetly.

His brain makes an audible click in response. “You… don’t hate me for…?”

“No, ‘Zuku,” you reply with an almost coquettish grin gracing your lips. “I-I’ve been waiting for you to make a move, y’know?”

His heart skyrockets into his throat. “T-then… there’s no reason not to keep going, is there?” he murmurs. This feels too good to be real, but if this is what’s going to happen, then so be it, he’ll take it any day.

You shake your head and reach up to remove his hand from your chest—much to his disappointment. You giggle at the pout that unintentionally forms on his lips, fix your bra, and then sit up just enough to pull your tank top over your head, leaving you in nothing up top but a familiar lacy bra that makes his mouth dry.

Recently, Izuku had gotten a… surprise… when he'd seen you struggling to carry your laundry basket and offered his assistance. He hadn't meant to look or anything, really! You'd agreed and passed the basket over, and he turned to carry it down the stairs and found that he was looking directly at your… lacy unmentionables... Emerald lace cups and black straps, sitting innocently in front of his face like they weren’t out to kill him. At the time, he’d gone red, set his jaw, and tried not to acknowledge it, and to his knowledge, you hadn't known what caused it. At the very least, you were kind enough not to bring it up.

Today, you’re wearing that same bra, and it’s even prettier on you—the extra straps above the cup accentuate the curve of your breasts, making them look only bigger in the gentle light of the morning. He thumbs the band idly, jaw slack as he looks you over.

“D-do you like it better on me?” you ask meekly, crossing your arms self-consciously. “I caught you looking at it the other day. You seemed to like it then.”

Gods, he’s sure his blush has spread down his shoulders and to his chest, his eyes still firmly locked on you. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I’m glad,” you smile bashfully, avoiding his near-predatory gaze with a squirm. “I picked the set out ‘cus the colors reminded me of you, after all.”

He inhales sharply at the admission, smooths his hand over the side of your bare stomach. Your skin is so soft. So soft.

“S-set?” he echoes, voice pitched.

You nod, reaching down and pulling at the waistband of your shorts—unfairly short—just enough for him to see another black strap peek out from beneath the stretchy fabric. “Set.”

He’s silent for a long moment, eyes roaming your form in disbelief. “…can I please kiss you?”

“Wherever you want, Izu.”

His lips find yours in the next moment, a hungry growl leaving him as you eagerly kiss him back. You shudder beneath him, tug at his hair just enough to make him weak in the knees. In response, he slides his hands beneath the small of your back and pulls you to move with him until he’s no longer pinning you down, but holding you in his lap, hands resting just above the waistband of your shorts as he greedily kisses you. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared and the first kiss he’s had in countless years, but it feels right, the natural continuation of your joint living situation.

When you break away from him, panting softly, you’re quick to reposition yourself, straddling him just as close as you can get, which happens to place your crotch right over the growing bulge in his shorts. He busies himself by kissing along your jaw, trailing down to place sloppy kisses on your neck and revel in your gasps each time. He finds every bite mark and kisses them slowly enough to drive you crazy, a hand sliding from your hip to cup your breast as he does.

“H-hey,” you gasp out when his hand slips beneath the cup of your bra. “D-don’t you think this is a little—” –he finds your nipple and rolls it between his fingers— “—ah—a little unfair?”

He’s not sure what you mean. He keeps his focus on your neck, fangs grazing teasingly and causing you to shiver. His free arm slides around to wrap around your waist properly and steady you, hardly even recognizing the question.

You yank his hair to get his attention.

He pulls away from your neck with a moan, rolling his hips up against you instinctively. “Wh—”

“C’mon, I wanna see you, too,” you whine, smoothing a hand over his chest and gripping his shirt in your fist. You grind back down against him, letting out the tiniest noise of pleasure as you do. “Can I get you out of your shirt, too, ‘Zuku?”

He nods, letting go of you just long enough to whip it off and away. The moment his arms are freed, he returns them, groping you shamelessly. His lips lower to plant kisses atop your breasts, pausing to suck a mark in the soft skin there. You moan in his ear, giving his ego a booster shot as your hands roam over his exposed torso.

From there, details are a little foggy—at some point, your bra gets pulled down and out of the way, giving Izuku full access to close his mouth over each of your nipples in turn and appreciate the sight of you, topless, debauched in his lap. Every now and then, when he grazes his teeth against your skin just right or moves just the right way, you’ll roll your hips and grind down on his cock.

He'd be content, any other day, to spend hours like this, until he’s marked your tits to hell and back and kissed every square inch of exposed skin, including your thighs spilling out of your short shorts, but the knowledge that whatever panties are hiding beneath your shorts match the absolutely salacious bra you’d so willingly showed off to him drives him forward.

The world blurs as he locks lips with you once again, this time swiping his tongue across your lower lip and eagerly slipping into your mouth when your lips part. His hand winds into your hair, hips grinding desperately against you, and then you’re laid back down on the couch, him hovering above you and breaking away from you to watch as he pulls your shorts off with a sharp yank. You reciprocate by coming for his own shorts, leaving him naked except for his boxers.

You bite your lip as your eyes dart to the sight of his cock straining against his boxer shorts, eyes half-lidded as you look him over appreciatively and bring a hand up to palm against his bulge. He moans aloud at the sensation, and before long you’re pulling him out of his boxers and slowly stroking his shaft as though you’re in a trance.

“How much farther do you want to…” you trail off, eyes never leaving his thick cock.

He pants, bucking his hips into your hand. “As far as you wanna go, [n-name].”

“Then…” Your legs part slightly, and he finally takes the chance to appreciate the bottom part of your little ensemble. Emerald lace and a series of black straps match your bra, hugging at your hips and barely covering anything of importance—

No, scratch that.

You drift a hand downwards and run your index and middle finger up your slit, and it quickly becomes apparent that your panties don’t even cover the important part.

There’s a slit carefully positioned right between your legs. They’re crotchless.

“These only have to come off if you want them to.”

“No,” he murmurs, replacing your fingers with his own and stroking your heat. You’re soaking beneath his fingertips. “I’d rather they didn’t.”

“Then what are you waiting for, ‘Zuku?” You wrap your arms around his neck. “I need you inside me.”

He doesn’t require any further prompting. Immediately, he lowers his hips, guides his cock to rub between your folds, to really appreciate just how wet you are for him. “God,” he moans when he finds your entrance and easily slips the head in. “Y-you’re so—tight—”

You hiss beneath him when he tries to press further in. “Fuck, Izuku, you’re so thick!”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss against your temple. “You're doing so well. I'll wait for you to adjust, okay?"

“Y-you can move, just, go slow, alright? I don’t think either of us want you to rip me in half, here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind destroying you,” he jokes. “But I’d rather you be nice and comfortable first.”

From there, sinking into your heat is easy—you take him so well, and he’s quick to murmur as much in your ear once he’s in to the hilt.

It’s almost too much. Your walls squeeze him tightly, flutter every time he breathes against your neck or murmurs in your ear, and for a moment he’s scared he won’t even get to actually fuck you before he cums. He has to take a few deep breaths, face turned away from your neck even if he desperately wants to bury his face there in case another outbreath causes you to flutter around him, before he can move.

“Izuku, please,” you whimper after a long moment of controlled breathing.

You don’t have to say another word. He rocks his hips against yours slowly, pulling out nearly all the way before slowly sliding back inside. Part of him wants to sit back and watch as he begins slow, measured thrusts into your cunt, watch the way you flutter around him and appreciate how well the lace suits you and your beautiful skin. The part of him that’s in control, however, buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent and panting into the skin there.

“Fuck,” he whines when you thread fingers into his hair and give him a sharp tug. The tug translates directly to his hips snapping to meet yours, tearing a choked moan from your throat.

“God, fuck, Izuku,” you whimper as he begins to slam into you, lost in your heat. He’s hardly coherent, babbling swears into your neck as he begins to pound into you, all restraint lost. Your legs wrap around his waist, shaking as he pistons forward, all manner of whimpers and moans leaving your lips.

“Izuku, Izuku, Izuku,” you babble into his ear. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“M-me too,” he grunts. “It’s okay, go ahead.”

You cum around him with a cry. He’s so close, so close, your release is so desperately close to pushing him over the edge with you, he just needs a little more, just a little push—

He thrusts into you through your orgasm, his release is so close he can almost taste it, and he growls into your neck, instinctively clamps down on your shoulder with his teeth, and as the sweet flavor of your blood blooms on his tongue, until finally, finally—

Izuku wakes up at his desk, the Word doc he’d left open having remarkably more pages than he remembers being there. (The letter ‘f’ is repeated an uncountable amount on his screen, still more coming before he lifts his hand off the keyboard.) He’s unbearably hard, a strangled whine leaving his throat when he realizes that his own precum is staining through the front of his sweats.

Without really thinking, he takes his hand off the keyboard and slips it into his pants, frantically chasing the release he’d been so close to. He jacks himself off at record speed, shutting his eyes to better recall the image of you dressed up all pretty beneath him in your emerald green lingerie, whining his name almost like a prayer. He barely has the foresight to pull his shirt up and out of the way with his teeth before he cums. The actual release is momentarily blinding—he’s vaguely aware that he slaps his free hand over his mouth to muffle the embarrassing whine that escapes, and he ends up biting down on his fingers to keep from being too loud and alerting you.

For a few moments after, he lays back in his desk chair and pants in the direction of the ceiling, hot ropes of cum cooling against his stomach. He lets his shirt fall down over the mess, investigating his ceiling with great interest as he takes in what just happened.

He just had an almost-wet dream. About you.

You’re his roommate, his… his… you’re you. What the hell is his brain doing, giving him dreams like that about you? How’s he supposed to look you in the eye after this?

But then, that was… much nicer than any other dream he’s had, all things considered.

He'd been way too pent-up. Surely, that must be the cause—now that he's gotten off for the first time in admittedly a very long time, his dreams will go back to normal. For better or for worse. It probably doesn't mean anything that his dream was about you. He knows firsthand that these things aren't always sensical, that there's almost no way that you being the subject of his dream means anything. Right?

But he just… got off. To you.

“Ffffffuck,” he whispers to his empty office, dragging a hand down his face.

Fuck, his thoughts echo.

Fuck.

No tags, I forgot to confirm who wants to be on NSFW and SFW taglists and will be doing so in a separate post.

[mrsgiovanna]

Buon Compleanno (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

It's as the name says... This fic is close to my heart and I really enjoyed writing it for our Golden king's birthday. Mostly fluff, it does contain mentions of alcohol consumption though. I hope you all enjoy. ❤️🎊🎉😘🐞💭

P. S. Let the fluff ensue 💐

Word count: 2.5k

“So Mista... Fugo, are things ready on your end? I’ve got confirmation from North Island that everything is ready for us on their end. We have to stagger our arrivals so that Giorno doesn’t actually see you guys there until the party. All our villas are ready for our arrival and his presents are being safe guarded there until we arrive,” you beamed as you secretly went over the final checklist for Giorno’s birthday get away with the team and Trish.

Your friends had ever so thoughtfully come over to see you and Giorno off… well more so to iron out the last details of your master plan, but your boyfriend didn’t need to know that. Attempting to keep your plans for his birthday hidden from him was a near impossible feat. Trying to get him to take some time off and just live for himself was an even bigger task, but being who you are, you managed to plan everything down to the finest detail.

Trying to get the entire island to yourselves and plan the party of a century for your closest allies was a mammoth task, but it was what you felt Giorno deserved. In the years that he’s spent running Passione, he had always placed his own needs secondary to the needs of the organization, which is why you resolved to give him the best experience imaginable for his 21st birthday.

“Hi Giorno! We were just talking about you,” piped up Trish in a voice loud enough to alert everyone to the young don’s looming presence. Eyes widening for a split second, you manage to compose yourself without him catching on and flashed him a pleasant smile. You were taken aback by how handsome he looked dressed down in an azure linen Armani suit, hair braided loosely and cascading down his shoulder. He took his place at your side, casually circling his arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Morning everyone, what’s this about me?”

“Oh, we’re just discussing what we’re going to be doing when you’re away… you know, cats and mice and the like,” joked Fugo, earning him a worried look from Giorno.

“Gosh, relax my love… come on, we have to go, it’s a pretty long flight,”

“Alright, alright, let’s go bella. Well, I’ll see you all in a few days’ time,” leaving to the collective goodbye wishes of your friends you set off to catch the private jet which would take you to the little piece of heaven in the Seychelles.

Upon landing at the airport, you were just one short helicopter flight away from your destination. Giorno’s demeanor was akin to that of a child on Christmas eve, taking in his beautiful surroundings on the helicopter. Stepping onto the helipad, you were greeted by the wonderful fresh scents of the salty sea air, clear blue seas and white sandy beaches for as far as the eye could see. After the welcome, you were lead to the main villa, given your golf cart and allowed yourselves to get settled in for the rest of the night, choosing to spend a quiet night lounging on the balcony overlooking the ocean.

Giorno couldn’t help but stare at your beautiful form. The way the moonlight bounced off the ocean behind you and illuminated your skin mesmerized him. He had known you ever since he had taken over Passione. You served as a valuable ally when it came to weeding out the members who were still unwilling to adopt his ideals. As the years marched on, he started seeking out your company more and more, until it became apparent that he was at his happiest when he was around you… and once the realization had dawned on him, he wasted no time in making you his. You fell hard, and fast, and it was so easy fall into step with each other’s lives, as if you had been created just for each other.

“Bella, this is incredible, I know I put up a bit of a fight but I’m so glad you did this…” he uttered with a dreamy look on his face.

“I’m glad you think so my love, you’re going to love the day I have planned for us tomorrow… Ah! Actually, later on today," you say, glancing at your watch, "it’s just past midnight! Happy birthday my love! I hope you know how much I love you, and I’m incredibly proud of you and all you have managed to accomplish at such a young age… you’re… you’re pretty amazing you know,” the emotions swirled around in Giorno’s eyes while listening to your heartfelt speech.

“(y/n) … I… you’re… I just love you so much tesoro, you’re everything I could ever want,”

“I love you too Gio… come on, it’s late, let’s get some rest,” you say while leading him to bed.

You rose early, just as the sun made its glorious appearance over the ocean. As early as you had woken up though, Giorno was already awake, nursing a cup of coffee as he stared pensively at the brilliant blue water.

“Good morning handsome, penny for your thoughts?” you greeted your lover, wrapping your arms lovingly around his shoulders and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“Good morning principessa… I’m just thinking about how much I love you…”

“Oh? Is that so, Mr. Giovanna? Well prepare to love me even more, go get ready, we have lots to do today,” you say, a lovely light, lilt coloring your voice.

“Any hints?”

“Wear something comfortable, something that we can walk around in,”

With that, your day had started with a guided hike through the island. Between Giorno’s life-imbuing ability and your affinity for adventure, you were both mesmerized by the flora and fauna you encountered on the hike. Once that was over you looked forward to coming back to a special couple’s massage which eased your sore muscles and relaxed you both into a dreamlike state. Finally, after your last treatments, you could get ready for your “dinner” at the piazza. Feeling a sense of pride as you put on the last of your accessories, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror while inspecting your stunning outfit, and grew even happier when you saw Giorno walking out in a casual charcoal grey Dior suit which matched your dress, but not his expression unfortunately.

“What’s the matter my love? You look great by the way…”

“Thank you tesoro… you’re quite the vision yourself,” standing behind you, sharing the mirror, he raked his fingers through his uncooperative hair, sighing in annoyance.

“Gio, stop- here, sit down, I’ll help you,” you say as you gently brush out the tangles and scrunch the wave back into his lovely golden hair. You carefully braid the length of his mane but leave his signature triad of ringlets out, admiring how beautifully the shorter sections of his hair framed his face.

“There…” you leaned back to admire your efforts, acknowledging the fact that you had a particularly exquisite model as well.

“Are you sure this is fine my love?” there was a hint of doubt in Giorno’s voice, but you made sure to banish any such thoughts.

“Of course, I love your hair like this,”

“Well, that’s good enough for me. Shall we leave my princess?”

“Yes… but can I drive the golf cart?” you ask, extending your arm to him, gesturing for the keys.

Speeding past the rest of the villas, you just wanted to make sure that everyone was already at the piazza ready to surprise the young don.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place my love? Or should we be at a different entrance, this looks like it’s closed,”

“Yes caro, come on, I’m sure the staff are inside… I’ve picked up on your habit of wanting to dine in solitude,” you explain as you walk towards the entrance hand in hand. Stepping into the restaurant, the lights dipped and instantly got brighter revealing your closest friends jumping out of their hiding spots with a collective, rambunctious yell of “surprise”, startling your unsuspecting boyfriend.

“Happy birthday my love,” you softly say once again, as the lively music started to play in the background.

“You… did all of this? For me?”

“Of course bello mio, well, I did have help though” you gestured behind Giorno, pointing out Mista, Trish and Fugo walking towards you both.

“Oi, happy birthday Giogio, haha, you look like you need a drink, I’ll be right back,” said Fugo as he went to order the first round of drinks for your little group. Between flitting amongst your guests, dancing with your handsome beau, and stealing moments away to be alone him, you almost forgot to give him his gifts, which were safely stored in the wine cellar of the establishment.

“Well, what do you think my love?” Giorno’s eyes widened when he saw the glass-encased, white Fender Stratocaster signed by just about every rock star, most importantly, his favorite guitarist, Jeff Beck.

“I’ve been looking for this for the longest time… how did you find it tesoro?”

“I also know some people… that’s not all, look next to it…” you motioned towards 5 Morocco solander boxes that housed a rare first edition of the complete 10 volumes of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.

“I thought that might look quite beautiful in your study… adding something especially meaningful to your collection,”

“I’m speechless (y/n) … you’ve gone to such great lengths…” you hush him with a passionate kiss preventing him from gushing about your efforts as you were determined to make this night about him.

“I’m sure we’ve been gone for too long, lets rejoin our guests my love,” you started to walk towards the staircase exiting the wine cellar, but you were pulled back against Giorno’s broad chest, grasping your face in his hand, he kissed you with so much fervor this time, leaving you flustered and battling to calm your racing heart. Noticing the effect, he managed to have on you, he gently coaxed you back upstairs with a wicked smirk.

“Hey, you’re back, we’ve been looking all over for you two. We have one more person who wants to say hello,” with a soft smile, Trish reaches behind her to pull out coco jumbo, which meant only one thing…

“Signore Polnareff! Even you…”

“You know I’ve always had a soft spot for pretty girls Giorno… Joyeux anniversaire! You’re a brave young man with a good head on your shoulders and integrity in your heart, always hold on to that,”

“Thank you signore Polnareff, it means a lot coming from you, considering…” cutting him off before Giorno could complete his sentence, Polnareff attempted to lighten the mood.

“Non non non, no sad thoughts tonight, get this man a drink someone, you’re all slacking here,” he said looking at you as you mouthed a small thank you in his direction.

“(y/n), you’ve really outdone yourself. Giogio, you’re a lucky man,” said Mista as he brought a special bottle of champagne for you all to raise a toast with. “Alright, while we’re all here in the same place, I just want to say that you’re all important to me…”

“Mista’s drunk guys, prepare yourselves,” Trish says with an eye roll resulting in hushed giggles as the gunslinger tried to (unsuccessfully) arrange his sentimental thoughts.

Unable to stand it any longer, Trish takes over and pays homage to Giorno, as well as the special people who had given everything in order for them to live, enabling them to carry on their will.

As the party raged on, you took a small break in a dim corner of the piazza, and took a moment to marvel at the fruits of your labor. Everybody was having the best time, including Giorno. After being called away by one of his associates, it filled your heart with fluttery sensations watching the man you loved finally able to act his age for once.

“May I sit with you, carina?” startled out of your musings, you find an old friend standing over you.

“Lorenzo, of course, please, have a seat,” you offer emphatically.

“So, how is one half of Passione’s power couple doing?” his question earning a loud giggle from you. You continued to make conversation with Lorenzo, until Trish came to inform you that one of the service providers needed to confirm a few details with you, so you politely excused yourself and followed Trish. You were confused as she lead you to a secluded part of the beach, where you find Giorno standing alone, staring broodingly at the ocean for the second time that day. You realized that she just made an excuse draw you away to check on Giorno, being slightly concerned yourself after seeing the expression on his face.

“Gio? My love, what’s the matter? Did you just need some fresh air?” he turned to faced you with the softest smile.

“You know bella, I’ve loved you so deeply for years now… you always know what I need… even before I do. I never really feel complete anymore unless you’re with me… which is strange because I’ve always been content on my own. And then it hit me, you will always hold a part of me, and I’ll always seek you out because of it… You’ve given me probably the best experience of my life tonight, but, there’s just one more thing I would like from you to make the day perfect…” you felt light-headed when you saw Giorno moving to kneel down on one knee, pulling out a little trinket box, opening it to reveal the most beautiful ring.

“(y/n), would you give me the greatest gift and agree to spend the rest of your life with me as my wife?”

Emotions tugged at your pretty features, as you whispered a breathy affirmation, while nodding excitedly. Exhaling sharply with a stunning smile, Giorno got back to his feet and placed the elegant ring on your finger, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss thereafter. You threw your arms around his neck, and held him tightly, before the realization dawned on you.

“Wait! How long have you been planning this, Gio? Your question was met with his soft, exasperated laugh.

“Oh! For the longest time amore, I’ll admit though, your plans had forced me to adapt my own, but I had some help in achieving all of this… Trish is a lifesaver,” explained your new fiancé with a hint of pride in his voice.

“I love you Gio, but you managed to hijack your own celebration… I don’t know what to do with you!” the mock exasperation dripping from your voice drew a small laugh from Giorno.

“That’s your problem now tesoro, you already agreed to marry me, no take backs,” with that, you both decide to return to the festivities. Intertwining your fingers with his as you slowly walked back, you both stole loving glances at each other, communicating your intense affections for each other through your eyes alone… perhaps it was as he said, you mused… that a part of your soul resided with him also, and so you always sought him out to feel complete too, just as he did with you.

[ghost-strawberry]

This Isn’t Going To End Well

Phic for Phic Phight 2021. Prompt by Bird: I think Danny dealing with his parents implementing a new, widespread ghost protection thing would be neat!

“We’ve been working on a very exciting new device for hunting ghosts!” Maddie exclaimed at the dinner table. Danny tried to show an expression of innocent interest, whilst Jazz anxiously glanced in his direction. He was sure his parents wouldn’t notice his sister’s reaction.

“Yes!” Their dad continued, unable to contain his anticipation, “It utilises an ancient ghost hunting technique and actually includes biological agents.”

“I finally persuaded your father to experiment with the tried and tested horticultural approach,” Maddie went on, all bubbly, having forgotten about the rest of her food. “Of course with some technological upgrades.”

“Does it hurt the ghosts very much?” Jazz asked as she collected the plates and cutlery from the table.

“You know we don’t care about that, Jazzy-pants,” Jack responded flippantly, “in fact, it would be great if it did, or at least hurt the ghosts enough to incapacitate them. We could get some good samples to dissect!” Danny felt his stomach churn and hoped his dinner would stay down. Jazz quickly turned to shove the dishes in the sink, hiding the alarmed look in her eyes.

At least the things his parents invented didn’t usually work that well, Danny reflected. Although, the stuff his mum made often posed an actual threat to him. He prayed his dad had contributed enough to this new device to render it harmless.

Danny massaged his temples, elbows resting on the table. He could feel a headache looming out of sight. “So, uh... what’s it called?” Danny asked, hoping to hear some more information. He needed to know if this was one invention he should be secretly sabotaging. Jazz ran the hot water and began washing up.

“It’s called the Bio-ecto-repellent,” his dad announced proudly. His mum looked less than pleased at this. The name didn't sound too dangerous to Danny. "And if it works, it should effect all the ghosts in an area as big as the city!" Now that did sound bad.

"When will it be finished?"

His mum shot up from her seat, "Oh Danny, I'm so glad you're so interested in this work! You should come and see it right now!"

"Mum," Jazz interjected as she cleaned a plate, "Danny's probably got school work he needs to focus on."

"I think I've got time to come check this out," Danny said, rising from his own chair.

"Great!" Jack shouted. He rushed out of the kitchen, surprisingly quick for a person of his stature. Maddie followed suit.

Jazz spoke softly to Danny, "just let me know if you need me, little brother." A warm appreciation for his sister blossomed in his chest.

"I will, thanks Jazz."

Danny made his way downstairs to the laboratory after his parents, a feeling of dread steadily forming inside him. He generally had faith that his parents would love him no matter what, even if they did find out the truth about him being a half-ghost. Experiences like these and whenever they spoke about cutting up ghosts didn't exactly give him the confidence to tell them. It had become a habit now, to hide his double identity from the world, from his parents. It was just easier this way. Although, maybe if he told his parents, they wouldn't be so hell bent on destroying ghosts. Danny couldn't decide what the safer option was; keep his ghost half secret or tell them the truth. He chose to go with the former for now.

Danny reached for the banister along the wall. For some reason his hand was shaking. Was he that scared of his parents? His vision began to blur with a red haze, the stairs starting to swim and morph before his eyes. Each step downwards seemed to become heavier, slower. He swayed, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding, pain blooming just behind his eyes.

He feebly called out, "Mum? Dad?" Danny could hear feet running on the laboratory tiles, voices reverberating, a droplet of sweat from his forehead splashing on the floor. His own breath was too loud and his heartbeat, usually deathly slow, was thumping hard. Warm hands holding onto his body. He could feel himself trembling, he couldn't see anything now. He thought his head must be about to burst. Suddenly, it all went silent.

***

The soft sound of breathing was pleasant and calming. Occasionally, it was accompanied by the rasp of a page turning. Eyes still closed, Danny flexed his fingers. Every part of his body ached, felt like lead. He was in his own bed. The faint scent of pen ink and jasmine flowers told him his sister was here with him. They were alone.

"Jazz," he croaked, barely audible.

"Danny," she whispered back, dropping her book to clutch his hands. Jazz's hands were uncomfortably hot.

"What happened?" He remembered leaving the dining room, trying to go down the stairs to the laboratory, to see what? Somehow the experience had felt familiar.

"Oh, Danny," Jazz sighed. His eyes flicked open and he could see tears trickling down her face. Anger flared up inside him. He hated that she was crying because of him.

"Don't," he tried to reach up and wipe the tears away, but his arm was like stone, he could scarcely lift it.

"I... I think this..." she faltered, her eyes darting around the room, "I think this new weapon is really bad."

Of course. He remembered now. So he couldn't even go near the thing without passing out? This was bad.

"You're gunna’ have to break it for me Jazz."

"I tried... Mum and Dad they... they stopped me going near it... they've taken it to the roof now."

"They're going to use it. We have to stop them Jazz." Danny had no idea what this thing was meant to do, but he couldn't let it go on. For his own sake as well as the innocent ghosts that naturally inhabited Amity Park. His head raced as he searched for a solution.

"Help me out of the house," he asked, his voice stronger now. The expression on Jazz's face told him what she thought about that, but she gently supported him out of bed anyway. The siblings stumbled together from Danny's bedroom, through the empty hallways and out of the front door. They were greeted with a cold, fresh breeze. Danny let out a sigh of relief as the cool sensation washed over him, invigorating him. He looked down the streets for where to go next. He needed to get further away from whatever the thing was, and get a good look at it at the same time. Danny shakily pointed down a road nearby. Leaning his weight heavily on Jazz they continued away from the house. With every step Danny felt a little stronger, a little lighter.

"Let's get this show on the road!" The gleeful shout echoed, coming from the roof of Fenton Works. Danny raised his head to see his parents attending a slowly spinning machine, it's glass sides showing it to be filled with an ominous red.

"Blood blossoms," Danny murmured, his voice low and quiet. Jazz's eyes widened in fear.

"What? Those primitive flowers that ghost hunters in the olden days used?" Danny nodded solemnly. The device on the roof was spinning faster now, a high pitched mechanical whine emanating from it. Danny could see the white flash of his parents teeth, both grinning madly.

"Stop!" Jazz yelled at them, releasing Danny and frantically waving her hands in the air. "Mum! Dad! Stop the machine!" They couldn't hear her.

Danny raised a shaking, glowing palm towards the roof. He had to destroy this thing, now. He really hoped his parents wouldn't get hurt in the process. The energy built around his hand.

Before he could fire, an ear-splitting crack whipped through the air. For a few seconds everything was still.

It was beautiful really. The gleaming red petals drifted through the sky. They looked as though they were dancing.

Next came the pain. The earth-shattering, mind-numbing pain. His senses cut off completely. He could only see a deep, blood red before him. The only thing Danny could do was scream.

[leatherglovesandbutterflyknives]

Madam Spellman Snippet: Wash Away the Day

Zelda’s day had been filled with one disaster after another and now, all she wanted was a little peace and quiet. Hilda had been in a fluster all day and Zelda had considered killing her and burying her in the cain pit more than once just to get a break. Unfortunately, Hilda was also the only person standing between Zelda and the melodramatics of Sabrina and Ambrose’s new experiments which had taken over the kitchen and filled it with strange smells, noises and the occasional fire. 

Eventually, Zelda had retired to her study and refused to reappear until dinner time, when most of the chaos was over and the splitting headache she had been nursing had dulled to a throbbing. 

“Shall we play some games?” Hilda said, having cleared away the plates. 

Zelda shot her a look. 

“You are quite welcome to but I am retiring for the evening.”

“Oh, Zelds, are you sure?”

“Quite. Do enjoy yourselves.”

Trying not to feel guilty at the disappointment in her family’s eyes, Zelda headed for the stairs, fighting back the headache that was returning with full force. She would run a bath, fill it with her favourite salts and oils and relax. The tension in her shoulders, her head and her jaw would fade eventually and then she would be able to sleep. 

Zelda turned on the tap, sprinkled the salts and poured in some oil, before heading into her room, removing her jewellery. She sighed, massaging her earlobes as the earrings came away, and placed each item in its rightful place. 

Her dress was next, pulling the zip down and shedding the material. Picking it up off of the floor and putting it in the basket, Zelda caught sight of herself in the mirror. She prided herself in always dressing her best, more for herself than for anyone else. The red lace was one she usually saved for special occasions, but for some reason she had chosen it for today. Running her fingers over the line between her breast and lace, Zelda pursed her lips critically and then shook herself mentally. 

She reached for her stockings, intending to take those off next, when movement reflected in the mirror made her start and then spin around. 

“Well, what a delightful treat.”

“Lilith,” Zelda breathed, scanning over the woman’s black leather coat and back up to blue eyes that were spreading their heated gaze all over Zelda. She felt suddenly naked. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been taking my name in vain all day, Zelda,” Lilith purred, her eyes flicking back to Zelda’s. “I merely came to see if I could be of any assistance.”

Zelda reached for her robe, pulling it on and wrapping it around herself. 

“I’m fine.”

“Lying to your Queen?” Lilith tutted, stepping forward; her fingers reaching up to play with the tie of the robe. “Well that won’t do.”

“What do you want, Lilith?” Zelda sighed, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her. She didn’t want to play games tonight; all she wanted was to wash away the day and sleep. 

Lilith studied her and pursed her lips. 

“You look tired.”

“I am tired, so if you would like to leave me in peace instead of teasing me, your High Priestess would appreciate it.”

Lilith dropped the robe’s belt and stepped still closer, making Zelda freeze. She was so close and suddenly Zelda’s throat was dry. 

“You’re tense.”

“You’re in my space.”

“Yes,” Lilith raised a hand, her fingers stroking Zelda’s hair. Against her better judgement, Zelda leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut, as Lilith’s fingers stroked, and her thumb trailed over Zelda’s cheekbone. “But you were tense before I arrived.”

“It’s been that kind of day.”

“Then let me take care of you.”

Zelda’s eyes flew open. 

“What?”

“Come Zelda... even strong, capable women like yourselves are allowed to want comfort sometimes.” Lilith leaned in and pressed the lightest kiss on the corner of Zelda’s mouth, making her breath catch. “Allow me to be that for you.”

She pressed another light kiss against Zelda’s jaw, and then began trailing kisses along it, until Zelda’s breathing was heavy and her eyes were shut; her head leaning back to allow the woman better access. 

Sure fingers undid her robe and pushed it off, leaving her in her lingerie again. 

“What a sight,” Lilith hummed. “You would bring mortals to their knees.”

Zelda hummed, feeling lost in a fog of arousal, evidence beginning to darken the lace pressed against her centre. Lilith’s lips traced down her neck and then she was being backed against her vanity, gripping it as Lilith’s fingers pressed into her. 

“Wet for me already?”

“Yes...” Zelda whispered. 

Lilith rubbed at her through the lace, and Zelda gasped and hummed as the friction pressed against her clit. She could feel the material becoming slick, could feel Lilith’s fingers pressing more insistently, and then they were gone. She opened her eyes to protest and saw Lilith kneeling down in front of her. 

Oh. 

Lilith removed her stockings first, slowly, pressing her lips and teeth to Zelda’s creamy thighs, leaving them covered in red lipstick and the beginning of bruises. Then she pulled down her panties, depositing them to the side before pressing a kiss to Zelda’s mound. 

Her tongue slid against Zelda’s swollen clit gently, and Zelda gasped, her head falling back as she gripped the vanity for support. Lilith was tender, slow and all consuming; sucking at Zelda’s clit before sliding her tongue over her folds and lapping at her. 

“Lilith...”

Hands gripped her, lifting one leg over Lilith’s shoulder, baring Zelda further to her touch. Fingers slipped inside her as Lilith sucked her clit again, curling inside Zelda’s hot, wet cunt. 

Zelda’s knuckles went white as she gripped the wood underneath her; the tell tale quivers of her approaching orgasm making her rock into Lilith’s touch. 

Lilith coaxed her on, until Zelda was practically mewling with need. Then, with a moan that echoed deep in her throat, Zelda clenched hard around her, and came. 

Lilith lapped up the juices that flowed from her, pressing kisses to her wetness, still curling her fingers to guide her through her orgasm. Zelda shivered and then sank further onto the vanity. 

The sight of Lilith, kneeling in front of her, that sly smirk slick with her juices, made Zelda’s stomach flip. Her Queen stood, wiping her mouth with her thumb, before leaning in and kissing the witch, giving her a taste. 

“You are, without a doubt, the sweetest witch I have ever tasted.”

Zelda moaned again, releasing the vanity to tangle her fingers in Lilith’s hair and pull her into a deeper, longer kiss. When they both separated, their heavy breaths mingled. 

“That was...” Zelda swallowed, lost for words for once. 

“Mmm,” Lilith hummed, reaching around her to undo her bra, gently pulling it from her and tossing it to the side. “Come now. Your bath is waiting.”

Lilith led her to the bathroom, turning off the water and dipping her fingers in to check the temperature. Then she turned, and began removing her clothes. Zelda watched as her figure came into view; beautiful lines and curves that were sinful in every beautiful way. 

Lilith stepped into the tub, offering her hand to Zelda, inviting her in. Zelda stepped in, feeling the warm water against her aching feet with a sigh of relief. Lilith sat and then spread her legs, inviting Zelda into the space. She eagerly complied. 

“So beautiful,” Lilith hummed as Zelda leaned back against her chest. Her nose brushed into Zelda’s hair and she inhaled, kissing her head. She trailed her fingers over Zelda’s arms, leaving trails of water over them before rubbing her thumbs into Zelda’s shoulders. 

Zelda moaned softly, feeling the tension easing with each circle of Lilith’s thumbs. She felt tired, boneless and the more she leaned into Lilith’s touch, the more relaxed she became. 

“It’s hard,” Lilith hummed into her hair, running her fingers slowly over Zelda’s breasts, brushing her nipples in a circle before returning to her shoulders. “Being the one in control. The strong woman in charge. It eats away at you until all you feel is tired. When you feel that, call for me. I will always answer.”

She began to comb through Zelda’s hair pulling the few pins in it loose, kissing her neck and Zelda, for the first time in her life, melted into her touch completely. 

She let Lilith wash her; gently sponging over her back, down her arms, over her breasts and between her legs. She leaned back as Lilith washed her hair, scratching her nails against her head until Zelda’s little moans filled the room. She rinsed her, ran her fingers through her hair to untangle any knots and then eased her out of the bath. 

Zelda reached for her towel but Lilith took it, drying her off and then herself, before leading her back into her room. Zelda slipped on her robe and then began to moisturise herself; a habit formed over many years. Lilith watched, slipping into Zelda’s spare robe; her eyes never leaving the woman for long. When Zelda was finished she turned. 

“Will you stay?”

“Yes.” Lilith stepped to her and tangled her fingers into her damp hair, pulling her in for a kiss. “Lie down. I’m not quite done with you.”

“I’m too tired to-”

“I know. Lie down.”

Zelda did as instructed and Lilith took up the bottle of moisturiser and sat at the end of Zelda’s bed. She squirted some into her hand, spread it over them and then took Zelda’s foot. She began to massage it, deep into the arch, soothing away the stubborn aches from a day spent in heels with too much to do. Zelda sighed. Somewhere, in the part of her mind that was too tired to focus, she wondered why she was accepting this. She normally hated sweet softness, or someone trying to take care of her. 

But Lilith did not make her feel weak for being tired. 

Lilith shifted to the other foot, rubbing up Zelda’s calf as she did so, summoning another pleasant moan. 

“One day, darling, I shall do this properly. I shall have you on your front and get into that lovely back of yours, and those shoulders. But for now...” She rubbed into a particularly tender spot and Zelda arched into the touch. “Let’s just make sure you feel relaxed enough to sleep, shall we?”

Zelda was so relaxed that it felt as though the bed underneath her might never let her emerge from it again. Her eyes were closed, and she could feel sleep pulling at her. Lilith’s thumbs soothed her and then gently lowered her foot to the bed. 

She heard her moving, putting back the moisturiser and then the bed dipped again. She felt a blanket being placed over her and then Lilith was pulling her into her; Zelda’s back against Lilith’s front. 

“Sleep, my Priestess.”

“I...” Zelda was so close to sleep, her voice husky and tired. “Thank you, my Queen.”

“Hush, darling Zelda. No need for that.”

Lilith’s lips brushed against Zelda’s cheek in a soft kiss and then Zelda had slipped into sleep, wrapped up in the arms of Lilith, her Queen, who listened as her breathing evened out, before closing her own eyes, and drifting off too. 

[thewritewolf]

Night to Remember

Summary: Adrien wakes up to three videos from his soon-to-be wife, one for each day she'd been gone for her bachelorette party.

Hello and welcome! It’s been a hot second since I updated this series last, but I got here eventually! This time we’ve got a one shot on our hands and like usual, this story stands on its own pretty well. I’ll link to the other stories in case this one catches your attention

Enjoy!

Part 1: Five Times (and the Lucky One)

Part 2: Just Between Us

Part 3: Eating Habits

Part 4: Adrien Agreste and the Long Delayed Proposal

Read on Ao3

The soft rays of morning landed gently on Adrien’s face, the warm glow slowly rousing him from sleep. He rolled over, putting an arm over the opposite side of the bed to pull Marinette closer to him. 

When his hand simply hit empty blankets and pillow, his face scrunched up in irritation. He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted, eyes yet to adjust to the light of dawn, at the space beside him. Just as he feared, it was empty.

Sluggishly, the gears in his head began to turn. Why wasn’t she here? Did she go to make breakfast? No, she’d never get up early by herself. 

Was there an akuma? A cold spear of panic went through his heart before he remembered that Hawkmoth - his father - was in prison. It had been years since they’d had an akuma attack, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still sometimes wake up in a cold sweat. 

Now that he was wide awake, Adrien started to remember. He and Marinette were getting married. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the big day finally came, which meant that he’d finally talked her into having her bachelorette party. Her plans were a quiet weekend out in Bordeaux. Just her, a few friends, and some wine in a rural village. He rolled out of bed and started to get dressed.

That had been a theme in most of the wedding planning - Adrien wanting to give her the world, and Marinette going instead for simple elegance. Well, she’d talked him down in most other parts of this wedding, but if there was one part before the honeymoon he intended to spoil her, then the bachelorette party was it. 

Adrien grinned as he remembered slipping Alya his credit card with only one instruction - go all out. How she would pull it off would be a mystery, but if her grin was anything to go by, then Adrien knew he had nothing to worry about.

As he brushed his teeth, he pulled out his phone to check his email. There at the very top of the inbox were three messages, two from his bride to be and one from Alya. Marinette’s were dated Saturday morning and Sunday afternoon, with Alya’s from early this morning. He’d already seen the first two, but decided to watch them again to get the whole experience.

After finishing up in the bathroom, he started the first video.

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

The video started, although Adrien only knew this because Marinette’s voice came through clear. The screen itself was completely black. 

“Hey, sweetie! We just dropped our luggage off at the hotel and we’re heading to the winery right now!”

“Um, Marinette?” It took Adrien a moment to place Alix’s voice. He’d only seen her a couple times in the past year. “Your thumb is on the camera.”

“Wha- Oh!” The screen lit up, showing Marinette’s radiant smile and slightly flushed cheeks. Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail, with a pair of big, fashionable sunglasses resting just above her face. “Sorry about that, Adrien!” 

Some giggling drew both his and Marinette’s attention to the others in the car. The camera shakily panned over to them. 

“Say hi, girls!”

Alix, caught with one arm wrapped around the head rest, finger gunned at him. “Hi girls.”

“Hello Adrien!” Rose frantically waved and beamed at the camera. “I can’t wait to see you two walk down the aisle! Its going to be so romantic!” She wiggled in place, too full of excitement to stay still.

Finally the camera landed on Alya, who was driving.

“Hey, centerfold. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of M.” She glanced at the camera and winked. “We’ll have to talk to you later since we’re about there.”

The scene shook again as Marinette fumbled the camera. She managed to catch it and soon enough the camera was back on her face again.

“It’s been less than a day, but I’m missing you already!” The screen was engulfed by her lips when she gave it a quick kiss. “Bye!”

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

Adrien smiled to himself and kissed the now black screen. 

Friday night must have gone as Marinette had planned then, but from the looks of it, Alya definitely hadn’t forgotten his request. She was more devious than the rest of them, if only because she was much more patient. First she would lull Marinette into a false sense of security… and only then would she spring the trap. 

Fully dressed and ready to meet the day, Adrien stretched out on the couch and opened the second video. This one was dated Sunday afternoon, the second day of their party. He sipped his coffee and pressed play. 

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

“Heyyy, sweetheart,” Marinette began, the words just barely slurred. A faint, constant blush tinted her cheek a pleasant rosy color. It was a little hard to hear her over the song playing on the radio and, more importantly, Alix and Rose loudly singing off key to it behind Marinette. 

Marinette either didn’t notice or was ignoring them, smiling into the camera all the while. “We just left the… winery. They had some great stuff there!” The view turned dark when she held something up a little too close to the camera. “I got a couple bottles to take home too!”

Someone said something, Adrien couldn’t hear what, and Marinette’s head whipped over to the side as she listened carefully. She nodded to herself before turning her attention back to the camera. 

“Alya says hi! Oh, and we’re going a little off the schedule here… We heard about a town nearby. They’ve got a few bars and one has a live band! This is basically just a girls’ night out, so it won’t be too wild… Right?”

The last question was directed more toward the other occupants of the car than Adrien himself. As far as he could tell, she didn’t get an answer. 

Marinette flashed him a sheepish smile and a slight shrug. “Well, anyway. I’ll send you another video when we get back to the hotel. Bye!”

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

Which just left the final video. The only one that he hadn’t watched through already. He’d been a little worried when Marinette hadn’t sent her video when she said she would, but he had bitten back that fear as best he could. After all, she always struggled with deadlines and who knew what they ended up doing that night.

Even so it was weird that Alya was the one to end it. What had kept Marinette from sending the video?

Only one way to find out - Adrien opened the message and played the recording.

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

A wall of noise slammed into Adrien, which stunned him for a second before he could figure out what was going on. There was the babble of a drunk crowd that formed the undercurrent for the rock band playing on stage. 

Adrien only had a second to wonder who was recording when he heard Alya’s voice close to the microphone.

“Watch this, blondie.”

It was at that moment that he found her - even between the low light and the jostle of the crowd, he could spot her anywhere. Then again, it wouldn’t be too hard to spot anyone if they were climbing up onto the stage with the band. Adrien watching with shock as she stepped up to the empty mic stand, swayed ever so slightly, and leaned in close. 

“I’m getting MARRIED!”

The crowd went wild, applause and shouting drowning out the music for a moment. 

“To the best man, the greatest partner in the whole world!”

Another round of cheers, combined with some ‘aw’s thrown in. 

One of the band members stepped up and gently took the mic from her. Thankfully, he seemed more amused than angry - Adrien could just barely make out an amused smirk from his perspective. 

“Then this one’s for you-”

“Marinette!” Alya shouted.

“-Marinette, and to your lucky man. Hit it, boys!”

Adrien wasn’t sure what the difference was between this song and the last, especially since he couldn’t hear it too well thanks to Alya being in the middle of a wild crowd, but Marinette definitely seemed to like it since she started dancing on the stage. 

The scene went black for a second before turning back on to Alya’s grinning face. She gave him a thumbs up. 

“Mission accomplished, centerfold!” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Better be careful when M gets home, though!”

She winked and the video ended. 

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

In the silence, the sound of the door opening immediately caught his attention. Before he could get up off the couch, Marinette stepped into the room. She glared daggers at him, but he relaxed when he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, as if she was fighting down a smile. 

“So,” he said. “How was your quiet weekend out?”

Marinette sat down on him hard enough to knock some of the wind out of him. She crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you know that Alya was the one who hired that band, or were you just bankrolling it?”

“Whaaat? I would never-” He put his hand on his chest in mock outrage. “I mean, what about the budget?!”

“You’re an awful liar, chaton. Three margaritas in and she spilled the beans. I may have been drunk too, but I don’t forget easily.” She tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling in thought. “Hm... where will I have to pull the money from to balance it out… Maybe the cake?”

“Hey now, our guests have to have cake!”

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “The flowers then.”

“You booked Francois a month ago, my love. No way you’re going to be getting the deposit back on that one.”

“Good point.” Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! I haven’t gone lingerie shopping for the honeymoon yet!”

“...Wait, let’s not be hasty.”

“Well, it can’t be helped.” She sighed melodramatically and pulled out her phone. “I was going to go to this really upscale shop and spend quite a bit but since we blew so much of the budget, I'll just call Alya and cancel but- hey!"

Adrien had snatched her phone and turtled up as best he could. As they wrestled for it, they devolved into a mess of giggles. Somehow, they ended up on the floor, Adrien propped up on his elbows above her.

Marinette crossed her arms, her hair a halo behind her head. She shrugged and rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“I suppose I can let you spoil me just this once.” She tapped his nose. “But don’t get used to it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied with a kiss on her forehead. 

[goji-pilled]

MK-S: Dark souls update.

Did some research on the dragon. If I recall correctly, breath attack is both magic and fire; given the color, I thought it was some form of unique poison.

And he just levitated me into the air. This must be that “take double damage” thing I read about…well, that wasn’t too bad. You’d think he just eat me while I’m floating. Apparently you can cut his tail off, but he rarely brings it down low enough…I’m going to try it for a bit.

Screw it. It’s been five minutes and it seems the only opening is when he’s swinging the darn thing…there is a VERY pleasant upside to this though: my str and dex are both 25, so I’m not going to wield that weapon soon regardless, but the better news is a clarification on that time I gave. Not five minutes of attempts. Five minutes of the battle. I’m getting good at reading his attack patterns. In fact, if anyone is ever stuck on any boss in any game, I recommend the following: take a few attempts, not to try to win, but merely to survive. Learn their patterns, break bad habits, etc. Applies to Dark Souls, Sekiro, Hollow Knight, etc.

Got him down by about a quarter or a little less. Mask of the child helps with stamina regen. And I’ve gotten good at reading at of his attacks. But he’s keeping a few up his sleeve; found the rear tail slam attack. That one is the opportunity for hitting his tail with the CGS (to recap, an abbreviation of cursed Artorias sword). Going to check something: how much damage would a regular soul arrow do against him with Manus Catalyst? Increased strength, but halves spell uses; but if it does alright or even just chip damage, and even halved, I still have a bunch, then it may be usable.

Little over a quarter of the way that time. Lasted quite a few minutes that battle did. Definitely need to re-equip a wand; if I’m not close enough for melee, I’d like to be able to punish at least some openings.

Remember how I lost to Pinwheel? I think I have redeemed myself:

Believe it or not, I actually timed this fight. I figured it would be a good metric to use. Didn’t think I’d win this run. I think this attempt three or four for today, no idea how many other times I’ve tried in days prior. But for context, this fight took 10 minutes and 41 seconds. I did not get his tail, he doesn’t like to be facing away from me. But I got REALLY good at reading his attacks. Only consumed 10 estus flasks, but there were several points I lucked out and he did some attack I could easily dodge. In this dance, if I missed my “turn” I’d have to forgo a heal until he attacked and my turn rolled around. But now the ring of take more damage from everything is mine.

Heh…I kinda feel almost hollow, no pun intended…alright, a little intended, but not by much. This journey is starting to come to a close.

.

.

.

When, because it will eventually be a when not an if, I buy Dark Souls 2 and 3, would you like similar updates on progress for those? (Or if you’d like I can put my experiences through the frame a a “Candeloro plays video game journal” sort of work. That may be fun.)

Here’s hoping I can resist buying them Before they go on sale. I can afford them, but if I can muster the will to wait for a sale, I could afford them AND…well, literally anything else, the advantage of saving money when you can. I always was tempted to buy them, but always took them out of my Steam Cart, under a motto of “play the first one, before you buy the series.”

I’m gonna farm a bit. Then I gotta kill the daughter of chaos for her soul, kill the hybrid in the painted world, maybe make sure I upgrade as much of my stuff as I can, etc.

oh, apparently the kiln knights drop what I’m looking for. Off to there I go!

I will never get used to this place. Is this…wait, I can reach this place without the serpent by just jumping in a hole and then…something softens the fall. So it is just down. But then where the heck is this place? Is it not just time that has been torn asunder in Lordran, but space as well? …actually, that could make sense; Gwyn linking the fire did Something, and such an act could alter local space-time.

These broken pillars and bridge supports look almost…organic. Like they’re fossilized remains of something once alive, trying to look like a building. Almost looks like I’m entering a giant rib cage…and if I am, the heart is where the fire’s at…

Oh there’s a Ornstein statue by the Anor Lando Bonfire. Cool.

Think I’ll get my head infected with parasites. There’s some final pyromancy I want to buy but I need to be infected first.

My character has an itchy head…so do I come think of it. You guys hear that chittering sou- wait no, this is a message, not a live chat.

Oh my head is an egg now.

Got the cure, bought more and currently grinding for souls and white ore.

Finally figured out how to intentionally backstab; I have to be behind and at WALKING speed. Good to know. Hadn’t realized it consciously before.

“Pardon me Black Knights, I must shove this Greatsword up your bums and out your lungs…or heart, but whatever it came out of was probably important…actually, it’s more in through the back around the second to last vertebrae, but you’re turning to dust so it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Alright, time to kill percilla then a fire keeper, then Gwyn. Then on to new game plus. (Let me know if you’d like new game plus updates as well.)

Off to kill percilla.

That was easy: she turned invisible before I could cut her tail off. Oh well, One Chaos Storm killed her stone dead. Oh, and I have all pyromancies now.

I am now level one hundred. It’s time. I’ll kill the daughter of Chaos, consume her soul…then kill the firelink shrine firekeeper too; I won’t be leaving that place…no, I feel bad about killing the spider…actually no, I’ve had no interaction with the firelink shrine firekeeper this playthrough since I skipped the quest that restores her tongue; something to look forward to for next playthrough. But the spider one, even though I had no talk with her for most of the relationship, I at least interacted with. Her I feel bad for; but the firekeeper of firelink is just a gameplay mechanic. Though I love how I’m feeling guilt over a fictional character. I deliberately wore the witch ring to tug at my own heartstrings, put some real regrets into my action. Her butler’s last words were to try to warn his lady. And he invented several swamp pyromancies.

Scratch that, I guess I can’t kill her.

I want to be human for this.

Pha-haha! A black knight bounced off my shield then fell to his death.

Oh, a Solare summon sign. Sure, why not?

Well, he’s apparently got a laser. But now…

Time for the last fog gate. At level 100.

…well that was fast. I think im a bit over leveled for this. Just three or four Manus Catalyst Soul Spears. Solaire helped when I realized I forgot to equip a catalyst by distracting Gwyn while I fumbled around in the menu.

That was fun. Definitely one of my new favorite games of all time.

And thank you Kechi, for being the place that finally got me to give this game another go.

New game plus. Let’s go. Oh yep, you can see stray demon walking about. Manus catalyst is a powerful melee weapon. Oh, while my gear carried over, I did not get a refresh on my used spells. So no soul spear for the demon. Never mind there’s a bonfire before him. Time for a nostalgic beat down. And look who’s up on the roof….that photo came out really well too; could act as a nice poster.

Three hits. I am over leveled. He didn’t even get to react. And I can hear stray demons footsteps. Love how I initially had thought those were asylum demons.

Ah, time to put my +10 divine gargoyle halberd to good use, and my old trusty shortsword is now a +5 occult shortsword. (Does that inflect curse on enemies?)

Found out how to kill one skeleton without divine weapons: knock him off a cliff.

Well, I’m off to bed now. Have a good day everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this…series, I suppose.

Well congrats on beating the game! Now you play through NG+ until you get to number 7 and get the hardest difficulty

Also yes, Gwyn was a suprisingly easy bossfight he first time, especially with Solaire.

It was harder in NG+ and without the sun boy around

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 136

This chapter was a chance to explore some more science-based tropes that I absolutely love in stories.  The truth is, when I’m working at my day job, I love listening to documentaries on Curiosity and YouTube channels like Answers with Joe or Kurzgesagt. My love of science fiction actually comes from my love of space and astronomy, not the other way around.

In no way, shape, or form, does this chapter cover any of the concepts in question in full. It’s just a quick convo between Sophia and a good friend ;)

My thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname. Plus all of YOU!

Even as my mind wandered, I couldn’t help but grin a bit as I took my weekly stroll through the corridors of the Ark with Miys in tow.  For several years now, we had a standing appointment on my calendar that both Alistair and Tyche treated as sacrosanct - just some time for me to spend with our host, my friend, and learn more about each other.  When I had originally arrived on the Ark, any time I was seen walking with them, other humans would give me odd looks, but never approach.  Now, people would recognize me, smile, and wave, but still never interrupted the strolls.

It was nice. Like my weekly family dinners, it was a routine, pleasant part of my life. Especially days like today, when we were entering the dawn-cycle and each day became a little brighter. It made me wonder about other civilizations, ones that would have evolved in conditions like the ones we were adapting ourselves for. How did it affect them? How would it affect us as generations passed? Future generations were certainly going to be shorter, due to the high gravity. Would it change our technological advances as well - 

“Wisdom, why are you thinking so hard about Gestrcht Clusters?” Miys interrupted my thoughts.

“Hm?” I asked absently. “What’s a Jestrick Cluster?”

“Gestrcht,” they corrected mildly. “Gestrcht clusters are a type of civilization that has adapted to live in artificial platforms surrounding their sun, in order to better harness the solar energy, radiation, or heat needed.”

“You mean a Dyson swarm?” I tried to clarify, confused.

“All of the galaxy calls them Gestrcht clusters, therefore I think that is what you mean.”

“Alright, alright,” I laughed, holding my hands up in defeat. “The reason I was thinking about Gestruck clusters - “

“Gestrcht”

“I will work on it. The reason I was thinking about those is… I was wondering how living on Von will change our priorities. In our history, those constructions were something that fascinated both imagination and science - something several people thought was our launching pad to a Kardashev Type II civilization, or the singularity point. Maybe both.”

“Kardashev…” they hummed for a moment, thinking. “Only humanity would create goals of technological advancement that required destruction on a multi-planetary scale.”

I desperately wanted to object, but strongly suspected they were right. “So we were wrong, again? There are no civilizations out there that would fit what we imagined for a Kardashev I or II race?”

“I will concede to the existence of species that you would consider both. However, it is not how you believe it to be - humanity would never have been able to accomplish it without greater sacrifice than they have ever known.”

Oh boy. “Tell me? I want to understand why other species could do it, but we could not.” My curiosity needed to know.

They held up one of their liw, rocking it back and forth in imitation of a human head tilt. “Species that have managed to harness all of the energy produced by their planet, and not destroy their environments, have historically been those who had very little power to harness to begin with. These civilizations come from either very harsh, or very gentle worlds - never anything in between. Abundant wind energy scouring a planetary desert can greatly benefit a species who can harness that wind to temper it and create a paradise. A planet with no atmosphere, but incredible amounts of geothermal energy runs little risk in being able to direct all of that volcanic activity to its benefit. But Earth?”

“Is a deathworld,” I pointed out. “You said so yourself.”

“This is true, but it is not a deathworld in the way So’Kn is, for example. Preeyar and So’kn are planets that are lethal for very singular reasons: So’Kn is a frozen waste of permanent night and eternal wind. It is so harsh that only So’Knor can truly survive there with without significant technological assistance. Preeyar only has atmosphere in its valleys, and that is thinner than most species can survive, much less the fact that there are no liquids on Preeyar. None. The air pressure is too low to allow it for any chemicals that are naturally occurring, and the atmosphere violently reacts with any elements that could exist in liquid form. It is, in fact, believed that the rift valleys were caused by simply an icy meteor impacting the planet.”

“Ho-lee shit,” I whispered.

“I doubt many cultures would find it holy at all,” they joked drily. “Whereas Earth… There is no one singular quality about Earth that classifies it as a deathworld. Instead, there are several, each stemming from the abundant forms of energy offered by your home world.”

“Seriously!?”

“Indeed. And the combinations thereof. The length of natural disasters that are possible, alone, is unique to Earth. Tornadoes and earthquakes. Flooding and wildfires. Volcanoes and hurricanes. Methane just rising from your lakes to kill large swathes of people. Lakes below your oceans, Wisdom! Volcanoes below your oceans! It is insanity to the entirety of the Galaxy, and yet humans consider that just a normal aspect of existence.”

“And… what exactly does that have to do with being able to harness all the energy of our planet, exactly?” To say I was confused was an understatement.

To their credit, Miys only reached with one vomu to make a ‘nose pinching’ gesture against its head. “Earth, somehow, is only habitable and so abundant in life because everything exists in a precarious balance. Surely, the last two centuries of your own history demonstrated that. Attempting to harness all of the admittedly prodigious energy of your planet would have ended up destroying that balance beyond compare.”

I tried to comprehend it. I really did. Focusing on what little I knew, I thought about dams. Those were familiar to me - I had grown up in an area that dammed every river and creek possible for everything from grain mills and fruit presses, to artificial fish ponds, to electricity. “Starting there…” it was faster not to explain out loud when I knew Miys was following along with the home game, “Damming a river creates a lake. That floods an area that already has a habitat, and dries out another area that already has an aquatic habitat.”

“And prevents floods that fertilize fields and redistribute minerals from erosion, yes.”

“Right. Times every river, creek, and faint trickle on Earth…” I stopped myself. Every river. The Amazon. The Nile. “And we just washed out what’s left of the largest rainforest on Earth.”

“Leaving more carbon in the air…” they encouraged.

“And increasing the greenhouse effect, increasing heat on the surface, melting more ice, which - hey, more wind, amirite? - but changing planetary albedo, more water, wetter Sahara, no dust to fertilize… South America? Dammit, are we back to killing the Amazon again?”

“That is just one form of energy, Wisdom. But I feel you are understanding the issue.”

“Yeahhhh…” I trailed off. “Okay, so. Kardashev I is no bueno tacos for Earth. What if we skipped straight to Kardashev II slash singularity?” I made a point to focus on the concept of technological singularity very hard, so there would be less need for research on their part. You know, spare myself half a minute or so. “The Gestrkt clusters.”

“Closer,” they admitted, although I was suspicious they meant my pronunciation and not the idea that humanity would ever get there. “Humanity is not… suited, for Gestrcht clusters.”

“Wait, what?”

“Humanity is too curious, too social, and too exploratory. Your fiction abounds with every variation of different worlds and strange universes you could possibly conceive of. And it constantly expanded - your oldest texts involve travelling to your moon, and when you actually reached it, you looked further out - other systems, other galaxies, other dimensions. Gestrcht clusters require such substantial resources and maintenance, there is little left over for exploration.”

“There are humans who would be perfectly content living in such a structure,” I argued, although my heart wasn’t in it. I wouldn’t have been, knowing that other worlds were out there.

“Not enough to sustain it, unfortunately. Not even in what you call the Before.” Lightly resting one vomu on my shoulder, they squeezed gently. “Wisdom, humanity has always wanted to see other worlds. Gestrcht clusters are all or nothing.”

“And singularity?” I asked, barely managing a hoarse whisper.

“It is true that there have been some singleton species that have achieved what you term singularity with technology. Fewer have been successful.” When I glanced at them, all six upper appendages were held up in defense. “Hive minds are uniquely suited to it, and even some of us,” they waved those same six appendages at their torso, “would never accept it. I could never imagine not having the chance to travel the galaxy, to be with other races as they experience it. Add to that, humanity is somehow both individual and social. Removing that line, that choice? I doubt your kind would thrive. Postulate this: Derek, in a hive mind.”

“Absolutely not,” came my unhesitating response, disgust and violence trembling in every limb before I calmed myself. “And I see your point. Integrating technology in our lives, into how we function…” I tapped my head for emphasis, “that’s one thing. It makes our lives better, by making sure that Derek, and others, can have their personal space protected.” The more I thought about it… I never considered the idea in reference to ‘now’, only ‘eventually’. What if we did it now, and I was one of the people - suddenly never alone, always connected to every thought of strangers via technology. What if Tyche was? Or Maverick? Hell, Charly? “I think I need a shower, now,” I admitted, skin crawling.

“Humanity could achieve both,” Miys confirmed, although it didn’t feel as reassuring as I had hoped it would at the beginning of our conversation. “But I don’t think humanity would truly want to live in Gestrcht clusters or singularity, given any other choice but extinction.”

Laughing, I wiped a tear from one eye.  It was a bitter truth, but still true. “I think you’re right.”

“I may be wrong,” they countered. “As I said, there are singleton species who have made those transitions and the entire galaxy is better for it.”

“Some hope that we weren’t entirely wrong would be nice right about now,” I mumbled as I scuffed my shoe at the floor. There wasn’t anything to kick except Else-puffs, and that was just mean as fuck.

“Most species that made a transition to Gestrcht clusters early in their development are belligerent, insular species. The fact that they must focus all their efforts and resources on maintaining their platforms prevents them from becoming actively warlike. As far as ‘singularity’... singleton species who thrive in that transition are often species who cannot thrive on a galactic scale otherwise.”

Huh? I craned my neck to try to look up at them in the perpetual-dawn light. “What do you mean?”

Miys flicked a datapad open - one I know they only wore for our sakes, seeing as they could not actually see anything on the purely-optical screen, I had learned. They could only navigate it if interacting with a human, so they could ‘see’ what they needed to tap out.

Needless to say, Charly and Grey had been working for years on one that responded to sonic commands.

Eventually, a seven-fingered flick caused my own databand to chirp. I flicked it open to see the file. “They… Noah, this looks like sentient pollen… or feathers…” Realistically, any description I tried to create fell devastatingly short. The being on my datapad moved as though it was floating on wind, with tens of thousands of filament-fine tendrils swaying and navigating. The sound it created reminded me of the sound of snowfall, if snowflakes could sing opera. “They’re beautiful,” I sniffed, driving back tears at knowing something so breathtaking existed.

“They also cannot survive off their planet, unfortunately. Even the transition out of their atmosphere is lethal to them.”

My heart shattered into a million pieces. “What is their name?”

“No one knows for certain. But they have achieved a sort of singularity - once they have matured and reproduced, they upload themselves at the end of their very brief lifecycles. In the Galactic Community, they are known as Odvub.”

“Odvub…” I whispered, holding out my fingers like I could actually touch the screen.

“Outside of a Hujylsogox rescue ship, it is nearly impossible to avoid encountering Odvub. Most believe they are some sort of galactic artificial intelligence, and they prefer to allow that belief.”

“Why are you telling me this, then?”

“They have permitted it, when these sort of questions are asked. To show what desperation is required for a singleton species to thrive in singularity.”

I sniffed, desperately trying not to cry at their situation. “Do they know about humans?”

“They may be the only species who could not avoid knowing about it. But Odvub believes your people are hearty, and adaptable, and should never suffer their fate. They advised, in the event that your people ever ask about singularity, to do this…” Miys gently cupped my cheek in one liw and patted it, “and tell you that you will never need to resort to what they had to do, and that they look forward to meeting your people one day.”

“Obviously not face to face,” I admitted quietly. “I have allergens that are more substantial than they are.”

“It is considered a great honor in the Galactic Community for this icon to display when  you interact with Odvub.” Miys gestured at the vicinity of the image on my datapad. “Only those who know why, know why it is an honor.”

“We’ll take it,” I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “All of humanity may never know why, but we’ll take it. If I may tell Arthur, we probably will know why.” He would see to it. Loudly, angrily, derisive of anyone who mocked it. “Regardless, we’ll take it, all the same.”

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[ollieofthebeholder]

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant  forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.”  Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

[kojinnie]

Kojinnie!! Forgive my indecisive self but I decided to get my request on jean instead😭😭 I feel like I haven't been loving him enough 😭 I'm sorry for the sudden change Kojinnie!

[RE:] Kojinnie’s Milestone Celebration :: 24/7 Writing Event

Salad!! Don’t worry I got chu~ Thanks a lot for the sweet words, and hope you like this! 💌🐴

02.00: Their personal trauma and a habit formed by it 20.00: How do they sleep at night with you 23.00: Their deepest sexual desire [Minor DNI]

02.00 We know how much of a prick that Jean was in the early season, and I think it was stemmed from the fact that he was coming from a considerably well-off and stable family. He was lucky enough to still have his family around, while the others suffered from painful tragedies of personal loss. He was a prick because while the others were driven by necessity to survive and excel (like how Eren was driven by his anguish to avenge the death of his mom in joining the corps), Jean was driven by childish ego and urge to self-prove himself. But when Marco died, it bludgeoned him with painful realization that this was the reality for most of his friends all along, and that soon it would be his reality too. He grieved deeply; he did not know whom to blame nor was he even given the solace of knowing Marco’s cause of death (until years later).

I headcanon that Jean went through some deep period of emotional volatility that it affected his performance as a cadet as well as his relationship with the other 104th comrades, he held the anger tightly and begged for an answer to Marcos’ death. He tried desperately to replay every moment where he could have had done something to save Marco, yet found no answer to it. Until someone close to him (maybe Connie or Sasha?) reminded him that instead of grueling with one final moment in Marco’s death, he should have cherished the life of Marco and how good he was as a friend. At first, it elevated him to a sense of ease, only to be further hurt by the realization, that while without doubt Marco was very important for him, out of so many moments he shared with Marco, he could hardly remember the things that Marco said – his jokes, his tell-tales or even his aspiration – as during all those talks, Jean was engulfed with his own thoughts, his jealousy over Eren, his insecurity, and his egocentric thoughts. Sure, he still had memories of talking with Marco, but all he could remember was what he said and not what Marco said. It saddened him tremendously, how he could only remember few words of Marco, ones that eventually he tried to immortalize deeply in his memory (“You’re not a strong person, so you can really understand how weak people feel.”)

This traumatized Jean deeply, and how much he regretted not spending enough time listening to and caring for people who really did matter for him. Fortunately, he learned his lesson and really tried his best to form a new habit, and that is to be more attentive, to listen to other people and be more altruistic in his life endeavor. It would be a really pleasant talking to Jean now, how deep would he stare at your eyes while you pour your minds out, how he intently nodded as he listened, or how he would notice every single expression in your face as you talked. You’d feel understood, and cared for by Jean. Yes, he had been through shit, and he’d sworn to use his trauma to become a better person for others.  

20.00 I think Jean has very spiky energy. He’d be energetic and driven by impulses during the day, then completely losing most of his energies once he’s home. So that’s why when he goes to sleep, he really DOES sleep. He’s not the type to linger and cuddle around with you throughout the night. It wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes for him to be fast asleep once he lands on the mattress. He also values his oxygen intake, so don’t expect him to sleep facing you close as he’d like to feel free when he’s asleep. He wouldn’t mind having you curled up in his chest’s embrace, but once he’s drifting away in his slumber, he’d turn away. But late at night, when the room grows colder, and the blanket isn’t enough to warm his long limbs, he’d sub-consciously trace the warmth in your skin. He’d tangle his legs with yours, and if it’s not enough to aid him from the cold, he’d start slipping his big, freezing hands underneath your shirt, seeking the heat on your belly. When he’s feeling cheeky, his fingers would travel upwards and once he finds your breast, he’d squeeze them and mumble with drowsiness still intact in his voice, “Oh there you are, was looking for you.”

23.00 I don’t see Jean as a person with suppressed perversion when it comes to sex. I reckon him to be rather vanilla, and never really had any intention to outwardly experiment with it. As much as he seems pompous and vain, in bed he’s actually very considerate and would prioritize your needs for his need was quite basic. 

The closest he’s ever been to have a wild sexual desire would probably be derived from yet another envy towards Eren. In modern!au, seeing Eren glew up into this emo sexlord, he’d be driven to this weird envious state to wanting to one-up him. He’d seen the effects Eren had to girls in public and he’d want that. He’d want you, as his significant other, to be looking obviously smitten by him, especially in public. He’d want to see you become outlandishly aroused for you and display it in front of his friends (like this). He fantasizes often about having his friends whisper behind his back, wondering how good he’d be in bed to have you completely turned into a horny mess for him even in public. Honestly, I don’t think he’d ever actually do anything to materialize this desire, he once thought of having you stroked under the table during a night-out with all of your friends, or buying a remote-controlled vibrator so you’d be drenched wet for him, but he’d be short in courage to actually do that.