#mrs venerable

[kemetic-dreams]

Frederick Douglass, a former slave, an abolitionist and author, wrote in his autobiography that he sought spiritual assistance from an enslaved conjurer named Sandy Jenkins. Sandy told Douglass to follow him into the woods where they found a root that Sandy told Douglass to carry in his right pocket to prevent any European man from whipping him. Douglass carried the root on his right side instructed by Sandy and hoped the root would work when he returned to the plantation. The cruel slave-breaker Mr. Covey told Douglass to do some work, but as Mr. Covey approached Douglass, Douglass had the strength and courage to resist Mr. Covey and defeated him after they fought.

Covey never bothered Douglass again. In his autobiography, Douglass believed the root given to him by Sandy prevented him from being whipped by Mr. Covey. Conjure for African Americans is a form of resistance against white supremacy. African American conjurers were seen as a threat by European Americans because slaves went to free and enslaved conjurers to receive charms for protection and revenge against their slaveholders. Enslaved African people used Hoodoo to bring about justice on American plantations by poisoning slaveholders and conjuring death onto their oppressors.

[tweetsongs]

xianxia and chasing the ghosts of the people you loved. becoming echoes of them, their ideals, their values. waking up one day and seeing them in the mirror. about finding them in the world, in everyone you meet, in everything you do. grief so acute it becomes involuntary. the world seeing you as the monument of yourself created for someone who can't see you anymore.

[jheselbraum]

They really only brought up Rose calling Pearl "My Pearl" once and never mentioned it again, huh.

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Pomefiore dorm (Vil, Epel, Rook) xGN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Vil's ideal type would be...

Someone who appreciates fashion. Vil is a person with very refined, particular taste. It's important for you to also appreciate his tastes, even if you don't know much about them, in order to stay by his side.

Someone who is open to criticism. Being on a personal mission to make himself and the world around him the best it can be, Vil works tirelessly to improve. And that energy extends to the people around him. If you are willing to pay attention to his wisdom and opinions, you are a person Vil can appreciate.

Someone who is proud to be his partner. The Queen of Pomefiore, Mr Schoenheit herself, deserved to be venerated... but Vil is not looking for someone to kiss the dirt he walks on. He knows his worth, but he just wants someone to be proud of being with him for being who he is, from his public persona to the little nerd who reads the latest potion studies.

Someone who can deal with his overwhelming life. Vil has high standards that are hard to meet, and combined with his hectic schedule and his diminished privacy, Vil knows he would have a very hard time to find someone strong enough to date him. But if you at least try to meet him in the middle and try to find a comfortable place for the both of you, he would surely reciprocate in kind.

『••✎••』

Epel's ideal type would be...

Someone he can be himself with. It's a known fact Epel has a hard time picking what parts of his genuine personality he can show to the world while following Vil's guidance, and the mask often slips. From slipping into his accent to scratching his hands while climbing trees, Epel would feel more comfortable if the mask fell with someone that likes to see those parts of him, too.

Someone who likes apples. Would you be surprised to know that the Harveston boy who pretty much breathes apples every day would think disliking apples is a deal breaker? You need to at least tolerate them. If you happen to have an apple allergy, you're on thin ice.

Someone he can be strong for. Epel has a very specific idea of what being a strong man means. While some of that image is not rooted in the best beliefs, Epel still thinks that partners are supposed to protect each other. If you're the only one being strong for him and treating him like a damsel in distress, it's gonna give his ego a huge hit.

Someone who waits for him to make the first move. An idea also rooted in what he thinks a strong man should be, Epel wants to prove his resolve in building a partnership by making the first move. It would take some time for him to do so, since he would need to deal with his whole "sappy romance is for losers" mentality first. But he'll appreciate you if you wait for him.

『••✎••』

Rook's ideal type would be...

Someone with a curious nature. Rook is in love with the whole known and unknown world, and wants to discover all of the world's beauties. And sometimes a hunter needs a right hand, following him closely and being part of the process. If you can be that for him, you'd get to see him at his most gleeful.

Someone who is open minded. A lover of beauty in all of its forms would need someone just as appreciative by his side. Even if you don't carry the same love he does, you can at least appreciate the things he does: trying to see the appeal of things he finds appealing would make his heart soar. After all, you're just trying to see a glimpse of the world through his eyes, non?

Someone who gives back the energy he gives to them. Rook's easily excitable nature can be off putting to some, and downright annoying to others. While he can deal with it, it can get exhausting. If you can respond to him with the same energy and try to meet him halfway, it would make his heart skip a beat.

Someone who can reign in his impulsive nature. Let's be honest, Rook is not known for his absolute patience. While he can monitor his targets until he gets what he wants, Rook can also jump into danger even if he is aware of the consequences. He needs you to grab his shoulder and look for alternatives, even if he would want you two to jump in together.

『••✎••』

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eighteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Angst, Fighting/Bickering, Sexual Tension, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Kissing, Teasing, Anger Issues, Slight Degradation.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the hushed atmosphere of Dumbledore's office, the venerable headmaster sat regally behind his desk, his piercing eyes gazing over the rim of half-moon spectacles. Mattheo Riddle, an embodiment of stoic strength, stood tall beside you. His usual cool demeanor was marred by a simmering rage, evident in the tight clench of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. You, on the other hand, stood meekly, your nerves palpable, a stark departure from your typically composed self.

"Thank you both for joining me at this early hour," Dumbledore's voice cut through the silence, stern and unyielding. There was no warmth in his tone despite his polite words. "I understand there was an altercation involving Mr. Berkshire and the both of you, Mr. Riddle. Is my understanding correct?"

Mattheo stood like a monolith, his façade unyielding, revealing nothing but a subtle inclination of his head in response. You stole a quick glance at him, a surge of frustration bubbling within you, wishing you could shake him out of his cold indifference, aching to see any sign of remorse or regret just for the sake of Dumbledores scrutiny. The room was saturated with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the distant murmur of students in the corridors, amplifying the tension in the air.

Dumbledore sighed, his disappointment evident as he shifted in his chair, his gaze fixed on both of you. "I must express my profound disappointment," he began, his words measured but stern. "Your actions were deeply troubling. Resorting to extreme violence, regardless of the provocation, is not the way we resolve conflicts here at Hogwarts."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a hint of irritation, his silence resonating with unspoken defiance, his fists clenched in his pockets. The weight of his anger hung in the air, intensifying your own nervousness. Your palms grew damp, your fingers twitching with unease as they hung anxiously at your sides.

"As for you," Dumbledore's gaze shifted toward you, his expression softening slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I am beyond relieved to know that you were not hurt, and I must say, you displayed commendable courage in the face of danger," he said, his words carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "You have once again proven yourself as a remarkable and strong young witch. I have no doubt that you will continue to exhibit such qualities for as long as you remain here. There are no reprimands to be given to you, and please, if you need any support at all, my door is always open."

A rush of heat surged through your veins, his words igniting a spark of excitement in your chest that you couldn't suppress even if you tried. With a soft, appreciative smile, you nodded, swallowing hard, acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.

"However," Dumbledore continued, his gaze shifting back and forth between you and the still tense Mattheo. "In light of this incident, Mr. Riddle, consequences must be faced. There is no way around it."

Mattheo's facade remained as unyielding as ever, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of dread and frustration at the injustice of the situation. The fact that Mattheo had to face punishment for defending you didn't sit right with you, stirring a storm of emotions within.

"Given the unique circumstances of this situation," Dumbledore continued, his gleaming eyes locked on Mattheo, "I'm willing to offer you a choice." His voice held a sense of gravity, emphasizing the importance of the decision. "You can either serve detention a few times a week for a month, during which you will also participate in counseling sessions to address your anger management issues...or, I can arrange a Mentorship for you."

This grabbed Mattheo's attention, and admittedly, yours too--your voice penetrating the air before anyone had a chance to even blink. "A Mentorship?"

"Indeed," he affirmed, his gaze shifting between you and Mattheo. "Tom has provided commendable feedback about your capabilities within the guild. I believe this presents a perfect opportunity for you, provided Mr. Riddle is willing to embark on this path. Your role would involve guiding and supporting him as he confronts his challenges. Instead of formal counseling, you will be his coach, helping him navigate his problems and providing the necessary guidance."

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in before elaborating further. "You'll be required to maintain a detailed log, documenting the situations that provoke his anger and the strategies you employ to help him cope. This log will serve as a valuable resource, aiding us in evaluating his progress and providing targeted support where needed...in order to do so, you would be required to shadow him for a few weeks, outside of class time of course."

His tone softened, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I have faith in your ability to make a difference, young witch. This mentorship holds the potential to not only help Mr. Riddle manage his anger but also foster a sense of understanding and empathy between both of you...you have been the only one thus far who has truly been able to make a difference in helping him achieve success...I'd have never suggested this if I didn't think it would work."

The weight of Dumbledore's words hung in the air, a heavy silence stretching between the three of you. Your gaze shifted to Mattheo, his features etched with a mix of unreadable emotions. Time seemed to slow, the tension in the room palpable. After what felt like an eternity, Mattheo swallowed hard, his throat working visibly as he prepared to speak. His voice, when he finally spoke, was firm, each word carrying the weight of his resolve.

"No," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, a storm raging within them. "I won't do the mentorship."

Your heart plummeted to your feet, a sinking feeling spreading through you like icy tendrils. You were certain you were going to be sick.

"What? Why not?" you blurted out, the words escaping your lips before you could fully comprehend the weight of the situation.

Before Mattheo could respond, Dumbledore's voice cut through the building tension in the room.

"I understand this is a significant decision, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, his tone measured. "I will give you until Wednesday, two days from now, to give your answer. Take this time to think about it wisely. My advice for you to take with you as you leave, is that if someone makes you feel, let them. It's a rare gift to be truly understood."

Mattheo's response to Dumbledore's words was an infuriating silence, his lack of acknowledgment felt like a slap in the face. He spun around abruptly, his demeanor so icily distant that it sent a wave of frustration surging through you. Embarrassment clung to you like a second skin, the prickling annoyance intensifying as he navigated the situation with all the subtlety of a raging bull. Despite the tumult of questions and emotions swirling inside you, you stifled them, opting for professionalism in the face of his blatant disregard.

Desperate to maintain your composure, you managed a tight-lipped expression of thanks to Dumbledore, somehow managing to suppress just how fucking furious you were. And as you briskly exited the office, you huffed in frustration, hastening to catch up with Mattheo's brisk strides who had already made it half way down the hallway at this point.

Gasping for breath, you pushed through the bustling crowd of students, your determination fueling your pursuit of Mattheo, his long strides effortlessly outpacing your hurried steps. You called out his name, your voice almost drowned out by the chatter of the passing students. Despite your efforts, he continued to distance himself, his figure becoming a mere blur in the sea of moving bodies.

Driven by sheer persistence, you pushed harder, your determination propelling you forward. It took several minutes of relentless chasing, your voice echoing down the corridor, before he finally came to a halt. His broad frame towered over you, his chest heaving with pent-up anger as he turned to face you, his eyes ablaze with fury.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped, his words laced with a potent mix of frustration and hostility, the raw energy practically crackling in the air around him.

"Excuse me?" Your response was tinged with incredulity, your irritation palpable. "Would you like to start over?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in visible annoyance. He scanned the corridor, his eyes darting around as students hurried past, completely oblivious to the tension brewing between the two of you in their midst.

"If you think you're going to change my fucking mind, you're not," he hissed, his gaze locking onto yours with unwavering determination. "Don't waste your breath."

Your frustration flared, your brows furrowing as you glared back at him. "Can't we at least talk about it?"

"No," he retorted sharply, adjusting his tie with a swift motion. "We're just going to fucking fight."

Nervously, you glanced around, ensuring no prying eyes were lingering on the intense exchange between you and Mattheo. The corridor buzzed with the hushed conversations of passing students, each one oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing between you.

"I don't care if we fight, I don't care if you literally yell and swear at me...we always fight, Mattheo, that's what we fucking do." You stepped closer, dropping your voice lower. "We are talking about this. Wether you like it or not."

After a moment of intense silence, the challenge in your eyes seemed to finally register with Mattheo--annoyance flicking across his features before he gave an exasperated nod. He motioned for you to follow him, his tall frame moving purposefully toward an empty classroom nearby. With a swift motion, he popped open the door, gesturing for you to step inside. His eyes scanned the hallway, ensuring no prying eyes were watching the two of you.

As you entered the empty classroom, your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. The sweet, vulnerable boy you had encountered in his dorm room on Saturday night was nowhere to be found. Instead, you faced the hardened, brooding Mattheo, a stark contrast to the person you had glimpsed during your intimate encounter. The disparity left you unsettled, a feeling of confusion mingling with your frustration.

Inside the classroom, the door clicked shut, drowning out the clamor of the bustling corridor outside. With a quick turn, you dropped your bag and confronted Mattheo, your eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and pity, unable to fathom the complexities of the man standing before you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you exclaimed, your words slicing through the tense silence. There was no holding back now that you were alone. You searched his dark eyes, desperately trying to decipher the turmoil within him. "I mean, what are you thinking-"

"Stop," Mattheo interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a dagger as he took a step forward.

"No," you retorted, refusing to back down. "Don't you see-"

In an instant, Mattheo closed the distance between you, his presence engulfing you as he pressed you back against the desk. Your bodies were inches apart, the proximity sending shockwaves through your senses.

"I fucking said stop," he spat, his teeth clenched, his eyes burning with intensity. "Stop looking at me like that, Raven..."

Your heart stumbled in your chest. "What-"

"All I am to you is a fucking tragedy, right?" he snarled, his anger radiating off him in waves. "Just some loser you want to fix, yeah? Take me in as your new little project to impress your future boss...follow me around all day like a fucking dog..."

"N-no-" you stuttered, your pulse thundering in your ears. "That's not what this is about, Mattheo..."

Helping him was a genuine desire, not some shallow attempt to gain favour, but you knew that it'd be hard to convince him of that, considering that he knows just how much you have been dreaming for an opportunity like this. The words caught in your throat, but he didn't relent.

"Bullshit, Raven...I won't be your charity case," he spat, his tone laced with defiance. "I won't fucking do it."

The air swirled with tension as he stood, a formidable figure, glaring down at you. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the rhythm of your racing heart. His words hung between you, heavy with accusation and resentment. He shook his head, a frustrated growl escaping his lips, and raked a hand through his disheveled hair. With a defeated sigh, he moved to a nearby chair, slumping down into it, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Caught off guard by the sudden intensity of his anger, you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The silence stretched, pregnant with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you found your voice, laced with a mixture of frustration and genuine concern.

"Who did that to you?" You said, fingers trembling at your sides. "Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally and mentally, that you've completely shut down anyone who tries to fucking help you?"

"Give me a bloody break," he hissed, bitterness dripping from his words as he rolled his eyes dismissively. "Romanticize me all you wish, Raven, but the devil wrapped in silk is still the fucking devil."

Your chest tightened at his cutting words, a potent blend of hurt and frustration surging within you. Desperate to maintain your composure, you ran a trembling hand through your own hair, now, attempting to quell the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why are you being like this?" you shot back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Is it because you got what you wanted from me, and now you're reverting to being a complete asshole?"

"Don't even fucking go there," Mattheo's anger surged, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity, his tone dripping with venom. "I never forced you to fuck me...that was completely your choice..."

Your heart plummeted to the floor at his words, your stomach twisting into a knot so tight it felt like it might suffocate you. A choked sound escaped your lips, barely audible as you croaked out, "Oh, gods..." there was a brief pause before you managed to find your voice again. "It was all an act? Is that what it was, Mattheo?"

Mattheo grumbled, once again rolling his eyes in exasperation as his head fell back, his gaze fixated on the ceiling.

"Not an act, Raven," he replied, his voice weary. "I meant everything I said, but this is who I am, don't you fucking dare act like you didn't know that already."

At his words, you were fucking stunned. A tempest of emotions raged within, a maelstrom of desire and frustration, adoration and resentment, crashing against the walls of your heart. Adoration burned hot, entwined with bitter resentment, all while desire surged like a wildfire, intertwined with seething fury.

The tumultuous whirlwind of feelings left you teetering on the edge of reason, torn between the impulse to hurl something at him and the overwhelming urge to throw yourself into his arms.

With a long, trembling sigh, you expelled some of the tension from your lungs, your eyes fixated on him--his tousled brown hair, those mesmerizing brown eyes, the sharp contour of his jawline, and those strong, powerful hands that made you weak in an instant. He was complex, complicated; Gods, so fucking complicated, but he was yours.

"I should get my damn head examined for being associated with you," after a moment, you shook your head, a bitter grumble escaping your lips. "Gods, I hate you sometimes."

Mattheo's eyes sparked with a devilish amusement at your words, his demeanor oozing arrogance that set your body ablaze with a single glance.

"Oh, you hate me, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with provocation. He leaned back, lounging in his chair, his legs spreading wider as he patted his lap. "Why don't you come sit on my lap and tell me all about it, baby? I'll drill that hatred out of you real fucking good..."

"Grow up, Mattheo," you said, trying to suppress the wildfire of lust that he awakened in your lungs. Playfully rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk. "Don't try to seduce me out of discussing your insanity issues."

"Yeah, that's what I thought Raven," Mattheo huffed, his amusement evident. "You don't hate anything...isn't that why my name never seems to leave your filthy little mouth, hm?"

"Oh, I'd say your name leaves my mouth quite often, actually..." you shot back, smirking. "Mostly when I'm cursing you for being the insufferable asshole that you are, just like right now."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed, the tension in the room escalating by the second. "Hate me all you want, princess, but you're always gonna' love how I fuck you."

You let out an exasperated huff, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. "That sounds a lot like a challenge, Mattheo."

"Can't be a challenge without any competition, baby," his voice was low and husky, his confidence sending shivers down your spine. "Consider it a fucking promise."

Releasing a breath of amusement, you stood up straight, and with a deliberate, almost hypnotic sway of your hips, you began to close the distance between you and Mattheo. His eyes, dark and alluring, drank in every curve of your body as you approached, watching as you delicately pulled your lip between your teeth, a gesture that spoke volumes. Your eyes trailed down his form and then back up, locking onto his with unwavering intensity. His tailored uniform strained against his strong shoulders, accentuating the raw power beneath, his legs spread confidently, and his arm casually draped around the back of the chair as that devilish smirk of his played on his mouth.

Pausing right in front of him, you leaned in, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses. Your fingers, like a whisper, brushed against his lips, tracing the contours as if seeking entrance to the mysteries he held within. Your voice, barely more than a sultry murmur, hung in the charged air between you.

"There are secrets in here," you purred, your touch sending shivers down his spine, "and I want them out."

Mattheo's breath hitched, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he fought to restrain himself. His eyes, dark and stormy, were fixated on you with a hunger that was impossible to ignore.

"Fucking hell..." he breathed, his voice laced with desire and frustration, "I'll tell you anything you want to fucking know, Raven, as long as you let me bend you over this desk right quick..."

Your entire body swarmed with lust, an insatiable need that coursed through your veins. Without a second thought, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. A sigh escaped your lips, head falling back in surrender as his lips trailed along your jawline. However, determination flickered in your eyes, a fierce intensity that matched his own desire.

"I want answers first, Mattheo," you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper, "then you can have me. Gods, you can have me anywhere you fucking want."

Mattheo growled, his hips instinctively surging against your core as he struggled to contain his desire. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he whispered, his voice husky with need, "I want you everywhere, Raven...against the wall, over the desk, on a fucking table in the Great Hall..."

"Shit..." you breathed, your words a desperate plea, quickly losing yourself in his fervor. "Then you better get talking, Matty...don't you want this? Don't you want me to be able to follow you around all day without drawing suspicion? We'd be able to hide in plain fucking sight..."

"No," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones, his touch a blend of desire and restraint. "I mean, yes, but fuck, no...you'll be too close, it'll be too much..."

"Too close?" Your brows furrowed, your frustration giving way to determination as you buried your hands in his hair. "What does that even mean?"

"A man I called my best fucking friend put his goddamn hands on you...he tried to fucking force himself on you...if you hadn't come around, if you'd never known me, that never would have happened...I will only bring bad things into your fucking life...I can't risk it..." his voice was low now, resonating deep within you like a thunderous echo. "You're my only fucking weakness...they'll start to notice it...someone will try to hurt you to get to me...and I can't--"

Cutting him off, your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, passionate kiss that silenced his words, your body molding against his, fingers gripping him with a fierce intensity. In that moment, words ceased to matter, and all that remained was the raw, unspoken connection between you, a bond forged in defiance of the world around you. You understood his concern, you understood his fears, but everything else be damned, you knew you'd go through fucking hell and back if it meant you could hold his stupid hand.

"I'm your weakness, huh?" you murmured, pulling back, your fingers delicately tangled in his curls, your hips moving provocatively against his, noting the subtle clenching of his jaw. "Guess it's time to prove how strong you really are, big boy..."

"Raven," Mattheo groaned, his dark, smoldering eyes fixated on your lips, his breath hitching with desire. "Keep grinding that tight little cunt on me like this and I promise I'll show you just how fucking strong I can be..."

"It's tempting, I'll admit..." you whispered, your voice a sultry murmur, slowing the movement of your hips as you took a sharp, shuddering breath to compose yourself. "Look, I understand your concerns, and I won't tell you what choice to make, but it'd mean the fucking world to me if you reconsidered...I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely satisfied with only seeing each other twice a week during tutoring..."

"Mm." Mattheo's low hum resonated against your skin, his lips trailing a path of warmth over the sensitive flesh of your neck. "Addicted to me already, aren't you?"

"Shamelessly," you confessed, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. "Mostly to that talented tongue of yours, though. The rest of you, well, I suppose I could manage without..."

"You wound me," he chided, his voice laced with mock hurt, his teeth lightly nipping your earlobe in a teasing manner. "Can't tell if you fucking love or hate me, Raven...don't think I've ever met someone like that..."

Your muscles tightened in response, his strained tone drawing a low sigh from your throat. "Does that bother your precious ego, Riddle?"

"It bothers something, Raven, but definitely not my ego," he growled, his grip on you tightening possessively. "You drive me fucking crazy, did you know you got that effect?"

"Hm, let me check," you pondered, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you smoothly slipped out of his lap. His fingers reluctantly released their hold on your hips, his groan of reluctance filling the room. "Yeah, I did."

"Where the hell are you going?" he grumbled, his hand adjusting his straining arousal in a futile attempt to ease the tension. "You said if I told you-"

"I know what I said, but I lied." you retorted, a nonchalant shrug emphasizing your indifference as you moved toward your bag, slouched on the floor. Your hidden smirk played on your lips. "Apologies, Riddle, but I'm already late to meeting Emily."

"You're unbelievable," Mattheo stood, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at your audacity. "Just wait until I get you alone later, princess," he huffed, his voice saturated with a promise that sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to regret this."

A rush of excitement coursed through you, the sincerity in his tone electrifying. "Is that a threat?"

"Consider it yet another promise," he replied, stepping closer, his hand gently tilting your head back to meet his intense gaze. "You know what they say, Raven...little girls that tease, end up on their fucking knees."

He leaned down, his presence enveloping you as he brushed his lips over yours in a feather-light kiss, sending a tingling sensation through your body. The delicate touch lingered for a heartbeat, a fleeting moment of intimacy, before he released you, stepping aside with a subtle gesture, allowing you to head toward the door.

"I look forward to it, then," you grinned, your heart thundering in your chest as you made your way past him. "And I must say, I genuinely do hope you change your mind, Riddle...it would be such a shame if you were occupied with constant detentions and therapy sessions, wouldn't it? I might get terribly bored…most likely would have to find someone else to entertain myself with…”

Almost immediately after the words left your lips, Mattheo's fury exploded in his eyes, a storm of anger and frustration. He lunged for your arm, but you slipped past him with agility, your adrenaline-fueled speed giving you the advantage. With a swift movement, you whipped open the door, leaving him seething in your wake, his voice echoing with pent-up rage as he called after you, his words lost in the distance as you made your escape.

————-

Chapter nineteen->

[halsteadlover]

𝐌𝐫. & 𝐌𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Jay finally got married but even on your weeding day you can’t seem to be able to keep your hands off each other so you sneak out during the party to have a quick rendezvous.

• Warnings: smut (18+), dirty talking, lots of cursing, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be like them fellas!!!), semi-public sex, so much fluff you’ll drown in it.

• Word count: 7800.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ minors stay away. I’m actually shit at writing summaries y’all can tell. I’m so excited for this fic so y’all better eat this up 😭 I really hope you’ll like it, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Stay safe and love you all xx

“And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

It was surreal.

You and Jay were finally husband and wife and you couldn't believe it.

“I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had whispered on your lips when you exchanged your first kiss as husband and wife, your heart bursting with joy and happiness.

On the way to the wedding venue Jay did nothing but kiss and caress your ring finger, still in disbelief you really decided to marry him. You were his, forever.

You couldn’t stop grinning.

Everything seemed more beautiful. The colors were brighter, the air cleaner, the sky bluer, the trees greener.

Everyone present including colleagues, friends, family could see how happy you both were, how much you doted on each other, how much you were in love. There wasn’t anyone who hadn't thought at least once how much they would’ve liked to experience a love like yours. So pure, genuine, crazy, overwhelming.

Jay didn't take his eyes or hands off of you for even a second.

He kept looking at you and the more he saw you smiling, laughing, so happy and carefree, the more he couldn't contain his disbelief. God, he would’ve given you the fucking moon if it meant always seeing that smile on your face. You were so unbelievably beautiful especially in that white dress, which hugged your body so perfectly it seemed to be sewn on you.

My wife.

My wife.

My wife.

He kept repeating in his mind.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

His hand circled your hips with a firm, possessive grip, while his thumb caressed the fabric of the dress that covered your skin. He couldn’t help but stealing kisses from you from time to time, between a ‘congratulations’ and another, whispering how much he loved you and how fabulous you looked in your wedding dress.

“Did I already tell you how stunning you are, my love?” Jay asked as his eyes ran up and down your body, holding you to him with so much passion and desire you felt like you were dying in his arms.

You both had inaugurated the dance floor by doing the first dance and while those present watched the scene with emotion, some of your relatives took videos with their cell phones, unaware of the things that Jay was whispering to you and just seeing with how much adoration you looked at each other.

You smiled as you talked, slowly swaying to the song’s rhythm, unaware of how much your eyes sparkled as you looked at him. He looked at you with just as much admiration, his cheeks aching from how much he was smiling, his heart exploding with joy. Even someone blind could tell how much that man loved and adored you, how much he venerated you, how much he worshiped the land you walked on.

“You're not half bad either Mr Halstead,” you replied with a cheeky smile, unable to take your eyes off him and how wonderfully the suit he was wearing looked on him “God, I just want to rip your clothes off right now,” you continued, not realizing you had actually said it out loud.

Jay's arms tightened around your hips, pulling you further into his body and trying to hide how that one sentence made him feel. “Baby don't talk to me like that… I'm already trying so hard not to drag you away right now. You really want to make me lose my mind?” He warned you in a low tone, his lips brushing your ear before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. He then sighed with frustration making you chuckle. “I don't think I can last the whole day.”

The song came to an end before you could respond and before you knew it everybody was drunkly dancing around you.

Your feet were sore as you and Jay danced with friends and relatives and you would’ve paid gold to take off those damned torture machines.

Seriously, why did heels have to hurt so much?

You were hot, sweaty but happy, like you had never been before. Jay wasn't much for dancing so he eventually went to talk to some other guests but he was having the time of his life and couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you dance, the way your body moved to the music, the way your curves were hugged by your wedding dress, the the way you sprayed happiness from every pore.

The love he felt for you was so unconditional, powerful and intense in such a way it took the air out of his lungs, it made the blood boil in his veins, it consumed him deeply, burned him from inside.

He had never once in his life felt anything like this, not until he met you. It felt like constantly being punched in the stomach every time you looked or smiled at him, it felt like his heart skipped a beat every time he heard your laugh, making it dance to that melody he couldn't wait to hear for the rest of his life. That kind of love was so profound that even when you were sad or cried, he felt like a piece of him was being ripped out of his body, especially when he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.

He lived for you, breathed for you only, to a point he couldn’t even function when you weren’t by his side.

“Okay, okay, enough, I'd like to dance with my wife now,” Jay's voice made you turn and you almost tripped over your own feet when your eyes landed on him.

He was standing behind you, looking at you with a gorgeous and mischievous smile on his lips, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. He exuded confidence from every pore of his body and you couldn’t even explain how you managed to get that man. He was so charming, so dreamy and insanely hot, he completely took your breath away.

My husband.

Wow. How the hell did I get so lucky?

You smiled at him and the friend you were dancing with raised her hands in surrender. “She’s all yours Halstead but treat her right or I’ll kill you.”

His eyes traveled down your body, running his tongue over his bottom lip after biting it as his gaze devoured you with so much intensity and desire that every cell in your body lit up on fire. “She’s in excellent hands Clara, don't worry.”

“Ugh you’re disgusting. Stop eye-fucking my friend in front of me.”

You laughed as he wrapped an arm around your waist, now looking at Clara. “Can you blame me? C’mon look at her.”

“I’m still here and I can here you, you know,” you intervened, giggling as your arm encircled his hips too.

“I'm watching you Halstead, just remember that,” she warned him with an amused look and pointing her finger at him before walking away and going to grab another drink.

Jay then let you go and turned your body to his, holding out a hand towards you, finally meeting your gaze again. “Would you give me the honor of this dance, Mrs Halstead?”.

The way that name slipped from his lips made you melt like a snowman under the heat of the sun's rays, God how much you loved the way it sounded.

Mrs Halstead. Fuck me.

“The honor is all mine Mr. Halstead,” You grabbed his hand and before you knew it you were already pressed against his chest while his arms wrapped again around your hips possessively, almost as if he was afraid to let you go.

“My gorgeous wife” he whispered while swaying to the rhythm of the music. A rush of shivers ran down your spine forming goosebumps all over your skin. “Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? I’m so obsessed with you baby.”

His lips left small, sweet kisses on your lips, making you have a hard time to respond. You giggled as his beard tickled you meanwhile he planted chaste kisses along your cheek and neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, a scent he’d never could live without.

“And I’m so obsessed with you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands slid down the small of your back, resting chastely on your ass. “You make me so insanely happy Mr Halstead.”

Anyone who saw you two would say you were just a beautiful couple dancing happily on the best day of their lives.

But the things Jay was whispering in your ear were far from innocent, they would’ve made even a porn star blush.

“God I can't wait to take this dress off you,” he had said as your bodies moved in time to the music. He had turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. There was a lively song playing at the moment, the bass so loud you could hear it across the room and you couldn't deny you were grinding against him more sensually than you would other times on purpose.

You couldn't control yourself, not when it came to him.

Jay had the ability to make you give in with just two simple words whispered in your ear. Normally you couldn't keep your hands to yourself for a long time, your sexual chemistry had always been high and this moment was no different. You wanted him so badly you almost forgot you were on the dance floor celebrating your wedding.

You almost moaned when you felt his erection pressed against your ass, hard and sore, repressing the instinct to get on your knees and pull down his pants in front of everyone.

“Baby,” he murmured against your ear, leaving wet kisses on your neck. “God the things I would do to you now…”

Your stomach tightened in a vice as the heat in your lower abdomen continued to expand. “Tell me darling. What would you do to me now?” You replied in a question, pressing your ass further against his dick.

God I hope no one notices.

Jay let out a sigh that went straight to your pussy, making your legs clench in desire. “Fuck please stop, I can't take this anymore,” his arms tightened around your hips even more, as if trying to let out the frustration. He felt like he was exploding and the more you kept grinding against him, so sensually to the music’s rhythm, the more he wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of all the guests.

You turned towards him again, placing your hands on his chest and caressing him slowly and sensually while batting your eyelashes seductively as you looked at him.

Jay thought he’d come in his pants just from the way you were looking at him.

His eyes were now hungrily fixed on your lips, which he wanted so desperately wrapped around his hard dick.

“So?” You urged with a smirk on your lipstick-covered lips. “What would you do to me baby?”.

Jay placed his hands on your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You really want to know what I would do to my wife right now?”.

You were so desperate you nodded as if you were possessed, God, you would’ve done anything that man asked you. That man that was now your husband.

It's so surreal.

He licked his lips as his eyes moved up and down your body for a moment, quickly but at the same time imprinting every detail of how that dress looked on you in his memory, before returning his eyes to your face and tracing with them the outline of your lips.

“It would be better if I showed her, don't you think?” he whispered against your lips, making you forget again you were in public and not just the two of you.

“Wouldn't it be better if I just showed her the way I would take off her dress and get on my knees for her? Wouldn't it be better if I showed her how much I want and desire her by licking her pussy and every bit and drop of her wetness until her legs tremble? By fucking her so hard until we both forget our names? By being buried so deep inside that sweet little cunt of hers that she’s gonna feel me for days?”.

He pressed his lips on yours in a chaste and sweet kiss, in stark contrast with the things he was saying to you. “And show her how hard I am inside my pants just by looking at her in this dress? Show her how happy I am that she’s my wife? That I get to keep her forever?”.

That's it.

You slightly pulled away from him and grabbed his hand before leading him away from the dance floor and out of the wedding reception, not caring if someone actually saw you two leave. Your free hand held the edge of your dress as the two of you walked down the hall. He followed you like a puppy, a stupid, inebriated smile on his lips, his body quivering with anticipation and frenzy.

You arrived in front of a door that marked ‘storage room’ on its nameplate and looked around noticing that no one was there. You opened the door and pulled Jay inside with you and before you could even fully turn towards him, his hands were already on your face and his lips had captured yours in a kiss that took the breath out of your lungs.

He closed the door with his feet as he devoured you in a passionate and devastating kiss. Never letting you go, he removed one hand from your face before locking the door, returning his full attention to you immediately after.

He didn't know why but that was one of the most beautiful and breathtaking kiss you had ever exchanged, so overwhelming it made his knees weak and his stomach twist.

It may have been the fact that was the first real and passionate kiss as a married couple, maybe it was because he could finally call you his wife, because he could do this for the rest of his life, but all of this drove him like crazy.

“God I want you so much baby,” you breathed out in a little moment of separation. He didn't give you room to do or say anything else because he started kissing you again so intensely that a hit train would’ve been less crushing.

You slightly parted your lips and his tongue slid in your mouth without hesitation as they moved in sync against each other. Your dragged your hands along his chest, touching every bit of his body you could reach, almost shaking from the frenzy and desire of wanting to touch his heated skin.

A deep moan vibrated in his throat when you sucked on his tongue, making him lose that shred of sanity he had left. He pushed you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss you passionately and greedily.

“You'll be the death of me,” he murmured against your lips as he planted kisses up your jaw and down to your neck. His tongue wet your skin as he nibbled it, his lips sucking at the same time making you gasp and writhe in pleasure. “I want to fucking rip this dress off you.”

You giggled – since the feeling was pretty much reciprocated – eyes still half closed as you enjoyed the sensation his lips gave you. “Don't you dare, it was expensive as fuck.”

He suddenly pulled away from you and a cold feeling took over you at that distance. His eyes traveled down your body and how your wedding dress hugged every single curve perfectly, fuck, it felt like it had been sculpted on you, like it was made just for you to wear.

He just wanted to take a good look at you, imprint in his memory every single detail of you in your white wedding dress.

But the way he looked at you, God. He was like a predator about to haunt his prey, glaring at it with desire, ready to capture it and devour its flesh with voracity and hunger. You felt so beautiful, like you could rule the world, like you were unstoppable, and you could only thank your husband for that.

“Fuck baby…” His chest rising and falling heavily due to that ardent kiss. He bit his bottom lip so hard he thought it’d start bleeding. He shook his head slightly as he continued to look at you lustfully, as if he could hardly believe you really existed, that you were actually his. “My beautiful, perfect wife…” He sighed. “I could just come from looking at you damn it.”

You pulled him back to you by the collar of his jacket and had to use all the strength you had in your body not to tear it off him along with that shirt. You kissed him again as your hands roamed down his body. You just couldn't take it anymore, you felt you’d explode soon or later if you didn't have him immediately.

You slipped his jacket off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, eager to finally touch him, feel his skin against yours.

He did the same, unzipping your dress and you pulled away as he helped you step out of it. You didn't care if it got dirty or even ripped, you were just eager to finally have him, to feel him, your mind too foggy to think about anything other than Jay. But he took your dress instead of dropping it on the floor and placed it on an empty chair there.

This gesture made you smile with happiness and with every passing second you couldn't help but think about how you couldn't have chosen a better man to be your husband.

It was only then that Jay realized what you were wearing underneath your wedding dress, that vision alone almost making him fall unconscious on the floor. You were wearing one of the sexiest and most breathtaking white lingerie he had ever seen you wear and this made him regret not dragging you out that dance floor sooner.

My fucking wife.

“Baby… Jesus Christ…” he sighed heavily as he looked at you with so much lust and hunger, his mouth and his eyes wide open. “You… Wow… You’re so fucking beautiful… Holy shit…”

“I guess you like it then,” you giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to you. He wasted no time touching you, caressing your curves and sliding his hand down your back until he grabbed your ass. He squeezed and massaged it with so much passion you were sure he’d leave some marks.

“Is this what you were hiding from me under that dress? Fuck if I had known I would’ve fucked you on that damn dance floor in front of everyone.” He started to grind his pelvis with yours and making you moan when his hard dick pressed against your intimacy.

“Jay please…” you sighed as he continued to grind against you, making you lose your mind. God you wanted him so much you it hurt.

His lips kept brushing his lips against yours, pulling back when you tried to kiss him and chuckling at your frustration.

“My sweet beautiful wife,” he murmured and placed his lips on your neck, on that particular spot that he knew made you lose your mind. A small moan left your mouth as he began to lick and suck at your skin again and you tilted your head, giving him more access. “I can't wait to be inside you.”

You grabbed his face and pressed your mouth on his, kissing him voraciously and passionately. It was like you were burning inside, as if your soul was trying to escape from inside your body and merge with his.

You had reached the point where you couldn't hold on for a second longer, you wanted your husband, you wanted him to take you there against those cold walls while all the guests danced in the wedding reception unaware of what you were doing.

You frantically unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and freeing his hard erection, after sliding his shirt down his arms and leaving him naked in all his glory. You wrapped your hand around his erected dick and he let out a throaty moan, so fucking sexy you found yourself squeezing your legs together for some relief.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned as he struggled to continue kissing you while your hand pumped up and down on his dick. “I want to fuck this pretty mouth so bad,” he placed a hand on your cheek as his thumb caressed your lips. You took it into your mouth, licking and sucking it while your eyes were fixed on his.

He stopped when another loud moan left his mouth and he tilted his head back, his mind too clouded with pleasure. “Shh… You don’t want anyone to hear us don’t you love?” You smirked as you let go of his thumb.

“I don't give a fuck, I just need you,” he whimpered in an increasingly desperate tone.

“Yeah? How bad do you need me baby? Tell me,” you whispered sensually, biting his bottom lip as you slowed the pace of your hand and earning a frustrated verse from him.

“Fuck… Stop playing with me,” he warned you while at the same time his hips buckled up to meet your hand’s motion. You drew imaginary circles on his tip with your thumb, wet from the stain of precum. “Fucking tease,” he hissed before kissing you again. It was a sloppy and messy kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, your saliva mixing with each other.

“Now get on your knees.”

Your pussy clenched at the sound of those words and you were never so happy to obey. You were about to kneel down but before you could, he picked up his jacket from the ground and placed it in front of you, making you smile like an idiot.

If there was one thing that Jay cared about more than anything it was knowing that you were comfortable, everything else came second and this was one of the many things you loved about him: how thoughtful and caring he was, even at certain times you always came first.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You kissed him sweetly, making him smile.

“It’ll be better for you since I put a ring on that finger.” He chuckled. “And I love you so much more.”

Your heart exploded in your chest and you kissed him one last time before kneeling down, your eyes still in his as he watched with attention every little movement you made.

You jerked him off again before moving your face closer to his dick, sticking your tongue out and he almost fainted… Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of that moment so badly, he would’ve printed it out and hung it all over your home because that vision alone was pure heaven.

Maybe it wasn't a proper thing to do to compare the image of you with his dick in your hand and your tongue sticking out to heaven, but he was too distracted to think about it.

A deep, guttural moan escaped his mouth as you traced a long wet line with your tongue from the base of his dick to the tip, which went straight to his pussy, forcing you to squeeze your legs together again.

“Ah holy shit…” he sighed, breaking off with another moan when you drew circles on his tip with your tongue just as you had done with your thumb not long before, tasting the saltiness of the leaking precum. “Fuck baby please stop torturing me…”

You smirked before wrapping your lips around his veiny dick and taking it fully into your mouth, starting a steady rhythm as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered in pleasure as the heat of your mouth enveloped him. His eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to maintain control and not make any noises. But it was so fucking hard, especially when your eyes were looking at him with so much sensuality they took the air out of his chest, not when your mouth was making him more ecstatic than any drug that existed.

“Yeah baby just like that… Oh yes… My sweet girl…”

He threw his head back, giving you a perfect view of his neck, his prominent jawline and veins and that alone was one of the hottest, sexiest things you had ever seen in your entire life.

His moans filled that little storage room and you hoped for a second no one was passing by or they would’ve surely heard him, but this thought immediately vanished, too caught up to his pleasure to care about the rest of the world.

Jay began to move his hips, fucking your mouth and hitting the back of your throat with the tip of his dick. “Shit, shit…” he loudly moaned “God you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And it was true.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. Especially with your watery eyes, the mascara running down your cheeks, your lips swollen and pink as they continued to grind on his shaft, back and forth, again and again.

You tried not to gag while he continued to fuck your throat with particular voracity but it was almost impossible, just as it was becoming difficult to breathe as his dick kept completely filling your mouth.

“Y-yes baby… Oh fuck… That mouth of yours will be the death of me.”

Even though you were the one on your knees, you felt so powerful. Damn it, how much you loved knowing you were the only one who could make him feel this way, that you were the only one whose mouth he could fuck so mercilessly it almost made you choke on his dick, knowing that his moans, his sighs and whimpers were only and solely for you, knowing that it was only you who was making him lose his mind so badly.

He placed a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your styled hair, tugging and making you moan onto his dick. God you loved it when he did that, and he knew it.

Sensing you were having trouble breathing, Jay pulled his dick out of your mouth, taking it into his hand. “Stick out your tongue.”

You did as he said, feeling every cell in your body go up in flames.

“Such a good girl. My baby is so good for me."

He smirked as he began to slam his dick against your tongue which left a long stream of saliva on it, his other hand still in your hair as he continued to maneuver your head to his liking.

“You like that huh? You like being my pretty little slut?”.

“Fuck yes baby, please use me.”

He put his dick in your mouth again, letting out some of the most borderline pornographic moans you’ve ever heard along with strings of obscenities and profanities.

“My wife is so dirty… Oh god yeah… She likes being dirty for me?” He groaned and you managed to nod while looking at me through your lashes. It didn't take long for him to feel the orgasm starting to build inside him and he had to stop, not being able to hold on any longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck stop baby, you're gonna make me come,” he panted as if he'd run a marathon, stepping back and letting his dick pop out of your mouth. “I… Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

Before you could say or do anything, he helped you get on your feet and pressed his lips to yours still swollen, wet and pink from the killer blowjob you had just given him. He pressed your back against the cold wall but you didn't care, you were too hot to notice.

A moan escaped your lips this time when he moved your lace panties to the side with his fingers and slid them over your pussy.

“Fuck… Baby, ah yeah…”

“So fucking wet god… You drive me insane, I can't wait to be inside this pussy,” he kissed your neck as his fingers drew imaginary circles on your clit giving you the pleasure you so much needed.

Your hips began to slowly rotate following the same movement he was doing, your mind clouded with pleasure as you felt yourself already on the verge of an orgasm. God you were so horny, you didn't think you'd ever been this eager to fuck him.

“Look at that, fuck me, you're soaking my hands baby…”

“Bab-… Fuck yes… Please…” you babbled senselessly, struggling to keep at bay the moans and sighs that had taken the place of Jay's and were filling the storage room at that moment. “I… I can't…”

You wrapped an arm around his neck while grabbing his bicep with the other hand, trying to find some support because you felt like you’d collapse on the floor at any moment.

Your lips nibbled and sucked the skin of his neck making him sigh in your ear, on one hand to keep your almost uncontainable moans and on the other because you wanted to mark him, because you loved seeing what you did to him, you loved knowing he has only yours.

“Ah yeah… Fuck…” you hissed, biting down on his skin when he penetrated you with two fingers.

“Yes baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you like when your husband touches you like that.”

“J-Jay… Oh shit… I need you please…” you managed to stammer between moans. You felt like you were about to come but you needed to feel him, you needed his dick inside you.

Jay pulled his fingers out and you almost had a heart attack when he brought them to his lips. Without his eyes ever leaving yours, he licked away every trace of your fluids, humming with pleasure as he tasted you.

“You taste like heaven, I can't wait to lick every fucking drop and make you come on my face.”

“Jay I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please hurry up.”

He chuckled and brought his hands to your ass, pressing your half covered pussy by your panties still pulled aside against his dick, making both of you sigh with desire.

“What do you want baby? Tell me.”

You grabbed his face with your hands, pressing your mouth against his and sliding your tongue inside his when he slightly parted his lips. His hands continued to massage your now red ass, pressing his fingers hard as you kept grinding against each other.

“I want my husband to fuck me against this wall,” you whispered against his lips, pink and swollen from your impetuous kisses, your noses brushing.

My husband.

These simple words made him feel a sensation he couldn’t quite describe, an explosion of emotions that caused an electric shock to go through his entire body, which made his heart beat wildly and his legs feel like jelly.

It was pure melody.

It was so sweet and sexy at the same time, it made him was so happy he felt like he was touching the sky with a finger. He was your fucking husband and he couldn’t still fathom the idea he really managed to make you his wife.

Jay crashed his lips against yours again, sucking out that little trace of your soul you still had left in your body. He was eager to possess you, to feel you, to show you how much he loved and wanted you.

His hands lowered to your thighs and you took that as a sign to jump into his arms. With almost astonishing ease, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck.

Your back was pressed against the cold wall but it didn't bother you, you couldn't even feel it. With one hand he held your thigh, while the other stroked his dick a couple of times before aligning it towards your entrance, penetrating you with a single slow thrust and making both of you to let out a loud and deep moan.

“Jesus Christ, fuck…” he moaned, using every ounce of his will and strength not to come instantly. His other hand settled on your thigh again and his fingers pressed so hard they felt like they were going to tear your skin at any moment.

Jay had his face buried in the crook of your neck, his lips wide open as if trying to get some air, his breathing quickened.

“Shit baby you feel so good inside me,” you breathed out as his dick stretched out every corner of your vagina. He wasn't even moving and you were already falling apart. “Please move…”

Jay pulled out of you slightly just to penetrate you again, this time with more force. He started moving his hips slowly, in and out of you, making you crave for more. But it didn't take long for him to start fucking you like his life depended on it, his thrusts now stronger.

He was thrusting so deep you could feel him in every corner of your body and a piece of you disintegrating with each passing second. Your arms held him close to you, your fingers on his shoulders while your nails slid across his skin, leaving marks that would probably stay there for days.

“God baby I can't get enough of you, f-fuck…” he groaned in your ear as his lips left trails of wet kisses on your neck and his tongue licked your sweaty skin.

You tried to answer but the pleasure was so intense, so high you couldn’t get anything out of your mouth other than a moan or a whimper. It felt so fucking good you couldn't even describe it.

A particularly loud moan escaped your lips as he gave a particular deep thrust, making you almost jump out of your skin as he hit your G-spot. “Oh my fucking god… Just like that… Oh yeah baby…”

“That's it, moan for for me princess. You’re being so good.”

He raised his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. You opened your eyes and met his eyes shining with luxury and passion, his pupils so dilated you couldn’t see the green of his irises.

His dick twitched inside you as he continued to fuck you against the wall mercilessly, and seeing you so deeply in the throes of pleasure, your mouth slightly open, your cheeks flushed, your eyes half closed… He was going crazy.

You kept looking at each other’s eyes, extending the deep connection between you two to another level. It wasn’t just your bodies that were fucking, but your souls too and you would’ve payed gold to stop the time and live this moment over and over again, forever.

“I love you so much baby, God I love you.”

“Fuck.” He crashed his lips into yours in a messy and sloppy kiss due to the continuous gasps interrupting you. You rested your forehead on his, both covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Mine.”

He kissed you as his dick soaked with your fluids continued to thrust in and out of your pussy.

“Mine.”

He kissed you again.

“Mine.”

He kissed you once again, sucking and biting your lower lip but stopped by another moan as your walls clenched around him making him struggle to even stand still.

“God… Oh yes baby keep going… Please…” you spluttered and closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm take over you.

“Don't close your eyes, please look at me… Ah Jesus… Fuck yeah keep clenching around me like that, you’re such a good girl for me baby.”

You did as he said as you placed your hands on his face looking into his eyes and feeling that sensation of pressure twisting and clenching your insides.

“I love you, fuck… S-so much…” you cried out again now, your mind completely gone. Your eyes started to water from the intensity of his thrusts and you felt like you were going to implode in that same instant. “I'm coming, I'm coming, I’m coming please don’t stop…”

A loud moan escaped your lips as an overwhelming orgasm hit you like a truck, almost giving you a heart attack. Your arms encircled his neck again, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders.

You didn't know if you could die from an orgasm but damn that was exactly how you felt. It was like someone made you fall from a ten-story building without a parachute.

Jay exploded in an orgasm after a few more thrusts, filling your pussy with his cum until the last drop before pulling out. He exhaustedly rested his head on your shoulder leaving small, sweet kisses on your neck.

The silence that now reigned in the storage room was only broken by your panting while you both tried to catch your breath as if you had just run a marathon.

You felt so good in that moment, like your body was floating in space and you didn't know if it was the thrill of being discovered, if it was the wedding, but that was the best sex you had ever had.

“God I can't feel my body anymore,” you murmured and he chuckled as you stroked the hair on the back of his head, leaving kisses on his cheek in the meantime.

That little room smelled of him, you and sex and you had never smelled a more sublime fragrance.

“Can we stay here forever?”.

“I'm afraid we still have a party to attend,” he tiredly chuckled again. Jay raised his head to look at you, a stupid smile on his lips, his heart happy. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are angel?”.

You smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips, this time sweet and gentle in contrast to the ones exchanged so far. “And you're a flatterer Mr Halstead, I know I look awful right now, my makeup is all ruined.”

“You’ve never been more beautiful than you are now Mrs Halstead. You look like you've been fucked properly.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, already starting to imagine the jokes and teasing your friends would make as soon as they’d see you, not to mention the embarrassment in front of your relatives and family.

You decided you’d think about this at the right time.

After both of your regained a bit of strength again, Jay carefully put you down but wrapping an arm around your waist when your knees buckled and you nearly fell to the ground.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” you commented with mock annoyance when you noticed the smug, proud expression he was looking at you with and the way he was trying not to chuckle.

“I take full credit,” he laughed and before you could respond he silenced you with a kiss, making you forget what you even wanted to say.

After getting dressed, Jay helped you put your wedding dress back on, zipping it up your back and helping you fix your hair and what was left of your makeup as much as he could. He left a kiss on your right shoulder as his hands stroked up and down your arms. “I don't want to go back there.”

He kept planting kisses on your shoulder and up towards the crook of your neck and your jaw until he reached your cheek which he insisted on, making you smile stupidly. His arms wrapped around your hips from behind, pressing your body against him and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“Where did the ‘we have a party to attend’ go?” You teased him, meanwhile placing your hands on his and caressing them.

“I want you all to myself, I'm not ready to share you with other people again, plus now I want to fuck you again.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Already?“.

“Already? Baby I would spend twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week buried deep inside you, don't act like you don't know me c'mon.” He kissed you again. “And above all seeing my cum dripping out of you and this damn lingerie drives me crazy, you can’t seriously expect me to resist you.”

You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands before pressing your lips against his as his arms encircled your hips again. A flock of butterflies exploded inside your stomach and he kissed you breathtakingly, making you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I love you so much,” you whispered between kisses, forgetting again that the two of you had been locked in that storage room for God knew how long. “I'm so happy I married you.”

He smiled as you kissed him again, almost making you kiss his teeth. He’d never get tired of hearing it, no matter how much you had said it. “God baby I love you so much more.” He held you even tighter, as if he wanted to somehow get under your skin and steal your soul, which he had actually been doing for so long.

“My wife, my wife, my wife,” he continued to whisper, stealing several more kisses from you, kisses that he actually couldn't even manage to give you because of the way you couldn't stop smiling.

“You make my heart so happy.”

“Stop you're going to make me cry,” you hit him lightly on the shoulder covered by his jacket, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

God, could you love someone so much it hurt? Because that's how you felt.

You loved that man so much. So intensely you couldn't sleep when he wasn't there, so much you missed him even when he was just a few meters away from you, so deeply you couldn't imagine a life without him since the moment you met him.

You had always dreamed of an everlasting love, the kind that took your breath away just by thinking of it, that fairytale love, that love you had always read in novels and seen in films and Jay Halstead gave you all this and much more than you ever imagined or deserved.

He was peace.

He was home.

He was everything you had ever wanted and more.

Jay took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and leaving a kiss on both of them, focusing in particular on your ring finger. His eyes shone like the ring’s stone at that moment and you looked at them mesmerized, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to do this all your life.

“We should go back there…” you murmured in a low voice, already sad for having to break that little bubble in which you took refuge even if not for a long time.

He snorted like a child but nodded. “I can't wait to have you all for myself.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours before unlocking the door and peeking out for a moment to see if anyone was nearby.

“Shit,” he muttered, immediately closing the door again when he saw a waiter walking down the hall holding an empty tray.

You let out a laugh when you saw his expression and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shh, they'll hear us.”

“Baby we were fucking against the wall ten minutes ago, I'd say we're a little late for that don’t you think?” you whispered back, taking his hand away and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Now kiss me.”

Before you could say anything he pulled you towards him by your hips, pressing his lips on yours. His body was pressed against the door and yours against his, your arms around his neck and his around your waist as his hands slid on your ass while you made out like teenagers hiding from your own parents.

“I'll never get tired of kissing you, it'll never be enough,” he whispered against your lips, nibbling and sucking your lower lip, making you sigh.

“I know what you're doing, stop it. Until proven otherwise it's still our wedding and we have to celebrate it,” you admonished him, dropping your hands to his chest and slightly pushing yourself away from him. You got a sound of disappointment in response, just what a child would do.

“You know what’s a great way to celebrate? Having sex. C'mon baby, come here.” He tried to put his hands on your hips again but you took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest in mock disappointment.

“We have a whole life to have wild sex. You don’t want to celebrate your wedding with your wife?”.

“Drop the act baby, I’m not falling for it,” he boop your nose with his index finger, a gesture that immediately made you smile even though you tried so hard to hold it back. “Of course I want to celebrate with you, that's not what I meant. This is the best day of my life.”

He chuckled before grabbing your hand and moving away from the door. He opened it again and like a few moments before, he checked no one was coming. When he realized that no one was passing by at that moment, you both left the storage room and he closed the door behind you.

You both smoothed your dress even though it was totally useless, anyone from a mile away could tell you had some hot sex just some moments before.

But you didn't care, it was your day, yours and Jay's and damn, you were free to do whatever you wanted even if it meant sneaking out of your own party to have sex in a storage room.

Okay, it wasn't a very proper thing to do but what could you say, all couples consummated their marriage on their wedding night, you and Jay had just rushed things along.

So you walked hand in hand with your fingers intertwined towards the wedding reception, both of you with a stupid and joyful smile on your faces and happy as you had never been, ready to get drunk and finally start your life together.

General tag list: @hngbrooks, @alexxavicry, @mrspeacem1nusone, @halstead-severide-fan, @allivzs, @omniaimy, @cursedashes, @klovesreading, @kmc1989

Jay Halstead tag list: @burgstead, @bebataylor84, @ares-kelani-wayne, @ixna-mikaelsxn, @sande5098, @smoothdogsgirl, @withakindheartx, @jess2013, @maddu-oliveira, @lovemesomepietro, @onechicagodrawings, @jinxtan18, @ready hit-it, @rainroo2, @tinfoilhat2719, @upsteadlovingheart, @nevaehstreater18, @sophiatellerrhodes, @dedlund82, @kellykidd, @rippI3s, @stephanie708, @annahargrove, @smutlOver, @kuroe-san, @caroldanverwife, @baby, @nosy09, @luvreading67, @danielmarie, @saiyuo12, @nachodaze, @waywardhunter95, @deanstead, @fighterkimburgess, @ephemeral314, @mads-weasley, @itskellysev, @lovemedlife, @atarmychick007, @amazedbyitall, @glodessa, @xeleni-dutchnurse, @ossypooh, @itriedtoexplain, @randomwriter1021, @averyhotchner, @ellavanderberg, @mrshalsteadxx, @junevoidzombie, @nocturnalherb16, @croissantthief, @jayhalsteadsbadge, @youngblood199456, @dreamss-wavess, @halsteadloversworld, @laaaauuraaaaa, @firerusher, @itserickalove, @23victoria, @slytherlight, @goingwiththewind, @notanordinaryprincess95, @cadyfanninger, @acewritesfics, @iloveest, @instantpizzacat, @wickedlovely121, @hart-kinsella, @novabckly

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[modelsof-color]

About Willi Smith

Willi Smith was considered one of the most successful African-American designers in the fashion industry at the time of his death in 1987, and the inventor of streetwear. His label that launched in 1976, WilliWear Limited, grossed over $25 million in sales by 1986 according to The Guardian. Inspired by the fashion he saw on the streets and also his desire to shape it, Smith’s accessibility and affordability of clothing helped democratize fashion.

Born in 1948, Willi Donnell Smith grew up in Philadelphia with an ironworker father and a mother skilled in the creative arts. “I was Mr. Bookworm. I was the artistic child no one understood. But my parents supported me. If I was doing a little drawing, my father didn’t say, ‘Why don’t you play baseball?’... The family sometimes used to say there were more clothes in the house than food.” After his parents divorced, Smith’s grandmother, Gladys “Nana” Bush, stepped in to nurture him, a role she played throughout his life.

Smith studied commercial art at Mastbaum Technical High School and fashion illustration at the Philadelphia Museum College of Art. He found himself bored by the limits of illustration, always “changing the design of the dress [he] was supposed to be illustrating.” Through the connections of a family for whom she cleaned, Bush organized an internship for Smith with venerated couturier Arnold Scaasi. At Scaasi, Smith assisted in creating fashions for clientele like Brooke Astor and Elizabeth Taylor, learning form, fit, embroidery, and the power wielded by access to a certain type of dress—a crash course in elite levels of fashion and the clothes he didn’t want to make

His label, Williwear, was ahead of its time: mixing the relaxed fit of sportswear with high-end elements of tailoring. His clothes were not meant to be untouchable, catwalk-only designs. Although the term “streetwear” has been much chewed over recently, Smith’s more elastic definition of the term (bringing urban culture to the catwalk) has been incredibly influential.

His clothes were meant for everybody. He said: “Fashion is a people thing and designers should remember that. Models pose in clothes. People live in them.” Though he was inspired by New York City, he wanted people everywhere to appreciate the culture and inspiration of the city. “Being black has a lot to do with my being a good designer,” he said. “Most of these designers who have to run to Paris for colour and fabric combinations should go to church on Sunday in Harlem. It’s all right there.”

[findafight]

Oh my god!!! That Steve/baby sister fic!!! If you ever want to build it out more I’d be obsessed (ie the party + extended party’s reactions, hop + Joyce and how everyone pitches in)

╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ awwww anon!!!!!

Honestly I have been thinking about it and I know I put in the tags of the original post, buuuut. Robin called Steve Bud or Buddy which morphed into Bubba when they are being particularly soft with each other, and the baby (who I am possibly leaning towards calling Tina so her nickname can be Tintin because it's cute idk) picks up on it so calls Steve her Bubba. Also because "he's my big brother" can sort of become "he's my Bubba!" If words are smushed together by baby babble

But before all that, Steve (who walked to work that day because he didn't have a baby car seat yet and wasn't going to leave his baby sister whom he always wanted and loves so dearly already ALONE or worse. With their FATHER.) goes to, of all people, Mrs. Wheeler for help. He'd go to Joyce but she's working and Karen Wheeler has the youngest kid he knows so is the best bet for maybe getting some tips and also maybe a carrier because the bjorn isn't going to cut it for long. So he goes and Mr. Wheeler immediately thinks Steve's Accidental Baby Acquisition is due to Steve's own recklessness. (Steve is a prolific lover, sure, but he's smart and safe about it! When he was thirteen his dad sat him down for a talk about not wanting the disgrace of a shotgun wedding and his grandpa gave him a run down of venereal diseases he saw (didn't mention having but. Well.) His pals have in WWII that put the fear of God in him regarding unsafe sex. Moreso than the potential babies. So. He's always very careful. For this very reason!! Except apparently his dad didn't use his own advice but Steve isn't complaining because, once again, he always wanted a little sibling.)

Anyways the wheelers are like ohhhh a Harrington Scandal not involving the boy our daughter dated? Okay sure here's Holly's old baby carseat. Hopper is just. He's like. I thought Steve and that kid I kept giving warnings to about selling dope to were a thing and Steve is like "will people stop assuming she's mine!! I know I am a bit of a slut but I am terrified of chlamydia!!! And even if this WAS my fault (which it is not and also she's a gift I love you little baby sister you're the light of my life) I am taking responsibility for it so maybe we all need to be a little less judgy hmmm??"

Joyce and Karen give him some hand me down baby clothes and books, some good tips about feeding and burping and things like that, and Claudia and Sue offer to come passive aggressively congratulate Steve's dad.

Dustin is a little jealous because this Steve Time is going to be encroached upon by This Literal Infant but Steve is like Dustin... you are my Little Brother... My silly pal...Now you have a sister too!! 🥰 And Dustin is like Oh Shit That's Right and proceeds to try to teach this Literal Infant, it cannot be stressed enough that she is a few months old and cannot stay sitting up by herself, how to build a radio.

Eddie is just trying to not have a heart attack from the concentration of Pure Longing activated by seeing Steve With A Baby and has also been forbidden from playing anything loud near them. He is fine and deals with this by writing ballads that make Gareth gag from their sweetness and Jeff have a very knowingly indulgent look when he sees the lyrics. But Gareth lets he hit his drums with he baby hands and Jeff pretends she stole his nose so they aren't that put out by it.

El is Fascinated by the tiny human and asks lots of questions and wants to play with her, give her experiences of softness and kindness right off the bat she knew she herself was denied, so she's often the official baby holder when Steve needs to do something when the Party is around.

The rest of the party is pretty meh on the baby. Sure it's exciting at first but she just kinda becomes part of regular life. They take turns doing actual babysitting for Steve so he can work or run errands or even, gasp, have some normal early adult fun times, but it's all pretty regular. Erica is glad she's not the party baby anymore.

They do however probably secretly fight over who gets to be baby's godparent. Steve isn't allowed to know.

[3rdeyeblaque]

September 9th marks the 284th anniversary of The Stono Rebellion of 1739✊🏾

When an Angolan brotha called, Jemmy, led a band of 20 slaves into rebellion on the banks of the Stono River in Charleston, S.C., which put unprecedented fear in Whites. It was because of this uprising that laws were enacted that outlawd the enslaved from learning how to read, gathering in groups, & growing their own food. Thus, making it one of the most significant rebellions in the history of the U.S. colonies.

Jemmy & the rebel band marched southbound on a road toward the river, carrying banners that proclaimed their war very, "Liberty!". Their numbers swelled with more enslaved women and men as they went. By nightfall, 100 rebels had joined the cause. They broke into a local firearms store, arming themselves with guns & ammo. As they marched, they killed every overseer in their path and forced any reluctant slaves to join them.

From there the band marched toward the house of a Mr. Godfrey, where they burned the house & killed Godfrey and his family. It was just shy of dawn when they reached Wallace's Tavern. Because the innkeeper at the tavern was kind to his slaves, his life was spared. The White inhabitants of the next several houses in their path were all slaughtered. Those enslaved by a Thomas Rose reluctantly joined the rebellion, but not before hiding their slaver - of which they were later rewarded for. Still, many more rebels gladly joined the cause. By this point, a Lieutenant Governor Bull eluded the rebels & rode on horseback to spread the alarm. Once the band reached the Edisto River, Whites colonists set out in armed pursuit. Shots were exchanged across both lines. By dusk, about 30 rebels had fallen & at least 30 more had escaped. In the end, most rebels were captured over the next month, then executed. The remainder were pursued and captured over the following 6mo - all except 1 who remained a fugitive for 3 years. The few survivors were sold off to plantations in the West Indies.

The immediate factors that sparked the uprising remain uncertain. Many rebels knew of small groups of runaways had made their way from SC to FL, where they had been given freedom and land. There was also an ongoing malaria epidemic surging across SC. Ultimately, this unprecedented act of rebellion demanded unprecedented legislature. The European colonists finalized a Negro Act into law which aggressively limited the privileges & movement of the enslaved. No longer would slaves be allowed to grow their own food, assemble in groups, earn their own money, or learn to read. Some of these restrictions had been in effect before the Negro Act of 1740, but had not been strictly enforced. This also resulted in the forced indoctrination of slaves into Christian schools systems.

Let us remember Brother Jemmy and those who fought, willingly or not, against the colonizers. Their sacrifice may have set a great legal precedent in European colonizer politics, but it set an even greater one that would spark many fires and fan many more flames of rebellion, war, and freedom. Every step taken from this moment onward was a necessary one to achieve our "freedom" as we experience it today.

We pour libations of water (especiallyfrom the Stono River), speak their names, & offer prayers toward their elevation.

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

[sugar-grigri]

Like Prometheus, the heart will be bruised

When Fujimoto makes a revelation, it's important to remember that this revelation never comes out of nowhere; there are always clues to it in the previous chapters. These clues don't serve to make you want to know what happens next (which is difficult with CSM), they serve above all to make your experience as a reader more gratifying, especially on rereading.

Well then, let's get started! In chapter 146 Fujimoto introduces an exceptional new demon, the Fire Devil.

What I find particularly interesting is the extent to which his power and this chapter are based on the same way a fire works

Barem's statement to his contractors alone makes sense, because to take the form you desire is to escape your condition in the same way that humans in prehistoric times began to use fire, moving away from their ape-like status.

In the same way, the fact that the fire demon gains in power as the number of its followers increases makes perfect sense. It works like a kind of fire that goes up in flames.

Now let's take a step back. It was while I was rereading the last few chapters that I realised a number of things...

Let's start with the fact that the fire demon was right under our noses, as shown by the presence of fire every time Fujimoto placed this false demon of justice, whether with the class president literally pulverised by Yoru or Yuko burning her neighbour's body.

But above all it's clear how the fire demon fulfilled the expectations of these two contractors

The President wanted to be seen by Mr Tanaka, hence the plurality of heads.

As for Yuko, she was an intrusive person (although I like this character) who wanted to know Asa's secrets, their exchange of secrets being for her the proof that they had become best friends.

Yuko seemed like an isolated person who was desperate to get into people's heads, hence her mind-reading powers.

This also works with the old man from the church who also contracted the false demon of justice, his thesis was that he could fight demons by becoming a demon... which he did.

The other point I want to make is that Fami's plan is bound to have flaws, not only because it would be more interesting from a narrative point of view, but also because we sense that she's trying to find the right tactics.

Her first tactic was to starve Yoru to get complete control of the war demon, but that didn't work.

Every time she tried to starve Yoru, Chainsaw Man or Denji were around, which gave Fami the idea of a possible partnership between the two, rather than fighting each other.

Hence the fact that she explains to Yoru that cooperating with Chainsaw Man wouldn't prevent him (or at least the black Chainsaw Man) from being killed, as this cooperation is more than necessary.

I'm also intrigued by this line because, in the light of the last revelation, it only implies even more that Chainsaw Man must become this super-powerful champion.

The church is really trying to help him, in other words the church is really trying to restore his power and even increase it.

But what I find even more incredible is the fact that Asa and Denji are in the same position

They're both at the heart of Fami's plan, but they're also both host to one of those demons that can kill the Death Demon.

But their situations were different; Asa fell into the trap by tying up with the church, while the passivity that could be taken from Denji was in reality a form of resistance.

This is particularly striking in several chapters

Denji had not succumbed to the temptation of becoming a divine being with the church, whereas Miri Sugo could despise him for only wanting to remain a chair, to act like a chair - this act of depreciation goes completely against the veneration of the church.

The fact that Denji belittles Chainsaw Man by acting in a humiliating way is in itself an act of protest against the fact that he is becoming a hero incarnate in whom the church will project itself.

I'm well aware that Denji wasn't aware of all this, but it's precisely his personality and deep-seated nature that allow him to go against this plan.

The fact that Denji wants people to find out he's Chainsaw Man defeats the whole purpose, because giving this mechanical monster an identity, a human head, makes it impossible to identify with him.

Yes, the impostor is pretending to be Chainsaw Man, but this generic character with his abstract and broad speech means that everyone can admire him and continue to project themselves as Chainsaw Man.

What Fujimoto has done from the start is underline Denji's flaws, his deep humanity and his own self-deprecation, he's too strong a character and so far removed from the imaginary Chainsaw Man that it would make any admiration and identification collapse.

Above all, Denji and Asa are cannon fodder for their own demons, Pochita is subject to Denji's dreams and wills, which are always in pursuit of integration among humans and literal contact, and when the heart isn't split in two, the brain is, Asa with her moral dilemmas, her intellectual capacities that escape the law of retaliation how advocated by the war demon

That's why the rest of the plan is as follows: Fami knew that the public hunters would fight back, so she deliberately let them.

The public demons immediately set about neutralising Chainsaw Man, so she wanted to kill two birds with one stone, Asa, i.e. bring back as many followers as possible with a new figure. But above all to draw the attention of the public hunters to Asa. Wouldn't Fami take advantage of the fact that Asa could be massacred by Yoshida to force Yoru to change host...... to Yoshida?

Just like the fact that Barem is quite close to Denji.

Remember when Fumiko said she was a fan of Denji, Barem intervened and said he preferred Chainsaw Man?

Time to separate

Barem propagated the fact of becoming Chainsaw Man like a fire that would spread, this time the punishment was not for Zeus to make humans mortal but rather immortal and monstrous demons.

But the fact remains that the rule will continue to apply and, like Prometheus, a heart will be sacrificed and bitten by the birds

A heart bitten by a bird

[vivalamusaine]

Me: my heart is cold, my spirit weakened, my mind cynical. Romantic love is unimportant, it's fraudulent and the pain it brings is too immense to be worth the small spoils

Victor Hugo: Nobody loves the light like the blind man. However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired his opposite by instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to a spinal column. His moral backbone leaned on that firmness. Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some one once more.

Tears streaming down my face, my heart open and vulnerable, my body destroyed: God..... Mr Hugo I am a fool... a tired, ignorant, fool. You are so right. Love is real.

[missamyrisa2]

15 questions for 15 friends:

Thanks for thinking of me for these questions, @lady-featherquill ~ this is like mmmmh a certain kind of tingle blushhh tickle for me to be called on~

Were you named after anyone?: Yess I was named after Burl Ives, but you wouldn't know it because I spell and pronounce my name differently~

When was the last time you cried?: I made the mistake of thinking about The Lion King a few hours ago~

Do you have kids?: I make kids all the time. Like crying over the lion king because I randomly was thinking about how real to life the animation was of Simba pulling on Mufasa's ear and holygodddddd he was trying to wake his dad up whyyyyyyy are animators so supremely great at heartsqueezing~~~ I'm just kidding. That was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played?: all of them I think~ I live by the fake it until you make it mindset and I'm still figuring out the latter part of that. But I did study pickleball thoroughly under its venerable founder, The Earl of Pickle

Do you use sarcasm?: William Shakesman said that's the lowest form of brevity so I try to avoid it whenever possible, also I'm horrendously bad at it to where I sound completely sincere and this has resulted in one too many punches to the face because, surprisingly if you poorly sarcastically announce you'd really love to be just hit in the face there are a LOT of people who are all too eager to jump in~

What is the first thing you notice about people?: That they're always trying to figure out if I hate them because I had a fairly consistent RBF crossed with an inclination to be mysterious. Through online interactions I first take note of their comma frequency because that says so much about a person's Oxford-related preferences.

What's your eye color?: Blue or green or grey depending which type of light you shove in my face, followed by whatever my eyelid is because moonlight makes me squint

Scary movies or happy endings?: I like the ones where nothing is really resolved and the story just sort of stops because everyone gave up and it was probably lunchtime so f*ck it~

Any talents?: I can do a hair flip like nobody's business, which is to say no one should ever be in the business of doing such hair flips because I've knocked over more cups and hit my head on more things than anyone should do in five lifetimes.

Where were you born?: I'm fairly certain I've always been, because whenever I attempt to find the record of my birth Mr. Tumnus plays an enchanting tune and I wake up in a cold room.

What are your hobbies?: arguing on the Internet and street corners why Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is better than Brotherhood. I took up the hobby after some guy stole my bicycle which was an outrage, but that was his hobby and he imparted the wisdom which set me on my path which is that a hobby is something that makes you completely miserable and spreads that misery onto anyone unfortunate enough to share your space.

Do you have any pets?: No, no one ever wants to pet me and it's probably because of the below answer

How tall are you?: 6'2

Favorite subject in school?: History. Not so much for the subject matter but because memorizing facts comes obscenely easy to me and I loved writing excessively lengthy essays which went nowhere and were loaded with as many funny words as I could muster like trying to relate an unrelated event to the future of filibustering.

Dream job?: Tending a lighthouse so I could make giant shadowpuppets over the water and make alligator mouths eat the ships.

Join in and pass it on if you can. Don't feel obligated!

@witchy-giggles @atomiccollectorwitch @crystalstarlight4657 @opossumgirltongue @adventuresofmelody @greenticklerdreams @juviisworld @dusktexanler @polsj103 @fuzzypilled @androgynousangeldreamland @daisylovestickles @yourgothgfswitch @magicaltickles @giggliestgirl

[morrak]

Untitled Wednesday Library Series, Part 141

Patrick Spielman’s Making Wood Decoys, published in 1982 by Sterling Publishing Company.

The How

Found alongside that comedy size chemicals-that-hurt-you book (of which there was sadly only a single volume) on a recent jaunt with @krieper.

The Text

Charm and passion. And ducks.

Spielman really wants you to know that you (yes, you!) can, should, and possibly must make wood decoys. It’s a venerable tradition, you see, and much in demand. Sayeth the intro: ‘this book is essentially for the beginner and the amateur woodworker.’

On its own terms, I think it’s probably quite successful — thorough structure, generous illustration (including a surprising amount of borrowed and attributed corporate imagery), and memorable detail without any major diversions. Several carvers from Door County, Wisconsin are roundly thanked in the intro, which tracks; this has the feel and tone of a very patiently pooled effort. The author’s photos of their work (I’m pretty sure these are his, anyway; they’re the only things not credited to someone else) are absolutely lavish, all things considered.

I have never handled a book that more badly wanted to be a YouTube channel. Mr. Spielman would’ve loved telling people to like and subscribe for more earnest and grainy and sometimes violent-looking but always well edited decoy content.

The Object

Almost lovely. Styled nicely and well printed, though the binding is no better than you’d expect from a craft book. The weak link by far is the paper — lots of spotting on and transfer from the color leaves, and there’s global yellowing besides. A predictable shame.

The combination of fonts on display (at least two ITC joints, though maybe more; I can’t be bothered to ID them) is right up the middle. It adds to it.

The Why, Though?

Not for the book itself, really. It does have some features I like: ducks; the only credit to a typist (the author’s daughter) I’ve ever seen; mid-century tool catalog insets; a curlew; showpieces from a group of dudes who may or may not have credit anymore outside of archived magazines or event fliers. Noteworthy points all, but none especially justify the shelf space.

The real reason I bought this was for the scrap of flier still tucked into the front matter, complete with ITC Benguiat (nice). Graphic design was someone’s passion. If ever something belongs in the to-be-framed-once-I-have-safe-shop-space collection, this does.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Six

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, it's just cute

— WORDCOUNT: 3.2k

I

One enchanting benefit of Tom entering her life, even if it was to be temporary, was to remind her that somewhere out there, outside the walls of her profession, the world went on. She was jealous for a moment that others got to travel, away from their boss and family. Just be a new person in new places, a stranger in the crowd. But it also filled her with some optimism to know that there were other people of her age invested in rare books, not just venerable aristocrats or obsessives like dear Fred.

And it, most shamefully of all, made her look up with a smile whenever the bell to her shop chimed. It wasn’t always Tom — but today, it was.

It was the third time he had come, the second since they put Torchia’s infamous work on display, and last time he hadn’t even mentioned it. She was so relieved… But that wasn’t the only reason she was smiling.

“Welcome back,” she grinned, getting up smoothly to greet him. “Happy with The Lost Word?”

“My employer is happy. Which means, I am happy,” said Tom with a rigid curling of his lips.

“Oh. Is he searching for the Philosopher’s stone?” she teased.

“Certainly hope not. Merlin forbid that he should live forever...”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his silly wording. Tom had a way of being funny that made it look like he wasn’t even trying…

He strolled through the shop as surely as if he owned the place, but his eyes now scarcely strayed to any of the books. They were mostly fixed on her.

“So, how can I help you today?”

“Oh, in many ways,” he purred, coming close enough to lay on her desk a sheet of paper, right beside her hip.

His closeness made her tremble, left her breathless, chilled her hands and warmed her face quite shamefully. She picked the paper up and her easy smile tensed. It was a list.

“These are quite the names,” she said.

“Do you have them?” asked Tom silkily.

“We do. Wait here.”

“No. I’ll come and help you.”

The stack piled high on her desk. They were as heavy as they were expensive. She looked at Tom from the corner of her eye as he checked his list against what she had brought with him, his gaze impassive and cool.

“Are you sure you can afford these, Mr. Riddle?”

“Please, call me Tom,” he smiled.

She smiled back but waited for him to answer. Her pleasure at seeing him had given way to business.

“How much?” he asked.

“For all of them? I’d estimate seven million lire.”

“So around ten thousand pounds…”

“At least.”

“I could send a telegram to my employer, but I doubt he would be willing to part with such a sum.”

She nodded and without a word began to pick the books up to return them to their shelves.

“Unless,” he quickly added, his susurrous voice lingering around her, “you would be interested in a trade.”

She paused. He looked more seductive than he had any right to be, bartering for books with his eyes so dark and his smile childishly expectant.

“W-what kind of trade?”

“Back at my hotel room, I have a number of manuscripts I acquired in Paris. Beautifully illuminated, tightly bound, and with the most tantalising marginalia. I’m sure at least some of them would catch your eye.”

“Would your employer not mind their absence?”

“Not as much as he would mind these,” he said. “I doubt he’d even notice. We don’t appreciate the French that much in England, you know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself quietly.

“Would you consider it?” Tom asked.

She did. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought about it. This is a bad idea…

“Let me help you,” he offered again, picking up half of the books behind her.

She thought about it as she followed him, her eyes scanning that taut back, those thighs that arched beneath his trousers smoothly with each step. She nearly moaned looking at him. Did he dress so tartly just to tease her?

“Not too much, is it?” he asked, casting an easy smile over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your books. You’re not carrying too many?”

“Oh, not at all,” she giggled, “I’m used to it.”

She felt a little guilty, undressing him with her eyes like that… But then it was her turn to feel naked as she climbed the ladder once again to put the books back one by one. Tom waited at the bottom, his hands on either side of the ladder and his dark eyes trailing up. She smiled to herself — secretly, and sadly. Nothing could ever come of it.

“I’m afraid I have to refuse you, Mr. Riddle,” she said once she was back down before him.

“It’s Tom,” he frowned. “And why?”

“It would be wise not to trade books in such a place.”

“What sort of place would that be?”

“Private.”

Tom nodded and, to her relief, smiled.

“I see. A clever move.”

She breathed a grateful sigh.

“How about a public place, then?” he asked.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Go out with me.”

Her lips parted but not a sound came through. Tom took advantage of it to continue.

“Would you have dinner with me tonight? I know a very nice restaurant…”

“Oh, well, erm, you can just bring the books here…”

“I could. But what would be the fun in that?” he said with a half-smile.

He looked at her as hopeful and expectant as a little boy, and in turn, brought out the careless little girl in her. It had been so long since she’d gone out with someone on a real date… Longer still since she enjoyed it.

“Alright,” she chuckled. “Alright. I finish at six. Shall we meet in front of the Fontana Trevi?”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said, his head held high in something like victory. “I will be there.” He bent and kissed the soft and dusty back of her hand, gaze meeting hers for one long moment.

What did I just get myself into?

II

Compared to the odium of charming Burke’s rich elderly clients, this was as fresh as a wintery morning and twice as bright. The sight of Rome at night took away whatever other bitterness Tom harboured.

He hadn’t been charmed by the city when he first arrived, but he got fonder of it the longer he stayed. The wide-open piazzas on which intimately narrow streets converged like the threads of a spider’s web, the hard white buildings, the lazy cafés, the ruins… They had the charm of eternity about them that always fascinated Tom.

So he stood before the Trevi fountain with a real smile on his face, a relaxation of the features he didn’t often get to have. In his leather messenger bag were several muggle books, perfectly ordinary, but enchanted to look like ancient tomes he’d seen during his studies. The transfiguration would not wear off for another two months.

He heard the sharp patter of heels he knew so well by now and turned to see her walking straight toward him. Right on time… Tom secured the strap of the bag around his shoulder and greeted her with a warm smile.

“Hello.”

“Hello again,” she murmured shyly, stopping before him.

“Did you change clothes? You look so different outside of that place…” he asked, allowing his gaze to trail transparently down her figure.

“Oh no,” she chuckled, “it’s much too far.”

Tom smirked. He knew that too.

“Well, you look lovely. Shall we go? The restaurant is this way.”

It was recommended by a concierge at the Gallienus as a ‘solid’ place to eat. It was quite central with a view over the Tiber and was frothing full of young and noisy people when they arrived. Tom felt relieved he had a reservation, but when he turned to her, his heart fell. He’d seen that look before on Abraxas or Rosier whenever they saw him do something decidedly middle-class and muggle.

“You don’t approve.”

“It’s not that! It’s… a nice place,” she said timidly.

“But?”

“It’s a bit of a cellar, you know?”

“I… don’t, actually.”

“It’s where men go to meet… women,” she whispered.

Tom slowly understood. He’d have to choke the life out of that concierge and find somewhere to hide the body…

“I’m… sorry. We can just call this off. I —”

“No,” she said quickly, her hand closing on his elbow in a small and warm embrace. “No, no, really, we can still go somewhere… I know a good place. A really good place. You want me to take you?”

“Please do.”

They took a tram to Via del Corso, and passed through a long and narrow street filled with little places — record stores, wineries, antique shops — until they reached the end of it. There, on the corner, was Othelo’s. He wondered if it was the same place Clement had talked about…

They took a table outside, beneath wide umbrellas, far from the entrance. Nobody would hear them, nobody would look at them.

“You’ll love it here,” she grinned as she settled down and took the menu. “Their seafood is the best in town.”

“Is that what you’ll have?”

“I think so,” she hummed happily. “Maybe some spaghetti with frutti di mare.”

“I’m more drawn to this, I think. Nero di seppia…”

“I’d recommend against it,” she chuckled.

“Why? Is it not good?”

“Oh no, it’s very tasty…”

“Then I’ll have it.”

She grinned in a deliciously impish way.

Although her gaze slid to his bag where the square shape of hefty volumes bulged, she made no mention of them. He found himself nervous for the first time, and burdened with the instinct to impress — a natural and manly sentiment, but no less bothersome.

She took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine to go with their meal.

“A whole bottle?”

“It’s alright. What we don’t drink, we can take home,” she said, without specifying whose home that would be.

They drank it, and after a few glasses, Tom found himself confessing things that would have made him cast Oscausi on his own mouth.

“And I loathe that… putrid bundle of bile, bald-headed bastard, with his greasy eyebrows and wart-crusted mouth.”

“Oh, Tom,” she sighed sympathetically.

“I swear on my grandfather’s ring,” he hissed, caressing the Horcrux with his thumb, “one day I’m going to gouge out his eyeballs, and piss in his skull.”

“I know, I know…”

“Everyone thought I was mad to go to work for him — and that syphilitic stoat, Borgin. I could’ve had a top position at the Ministry, I could have —”

“So why work there?” she asked, lips stained red around the edges from the Arrabiata sauce. Her elbows were braced upon the table, her body drawn toward him.

“Because of what it allows me to find,” said Tom. “The oldest, most rare and forgotten relics most people couldn’t dream of seeing, let alone touch.”

“I understand…”

“Do you?” Tom smiled, reaching forward with a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.

She blushed and mumbled a thank you before leaning back into her seat.

“Do you feel the same?” Tom asked.

“W-what?”

“About your employer.”

“Oh! Well, I…”

Tom smiled and listened, feeling genuinely curious.

“The Baron is a different sort of person from your Mr. Burke. In fact, I don’t think he’s like anyone you’ve ever met. He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met either. But…”

“Yes?”

“I suppose I don’t know how I feel,” she laughed skittishly, her arms coming up to wrap around her. “I respect him, but I fear him too.”

“Why is that?” asked Tom, leaning back and sipping his wine. “Has he threatened you?”

“No,” she said quickly, “he’s quite harmless, in a way…”

Tom cocked a brow. It was certainly the oddest way he’d heard anyone be described.

“But it’s just that…”

“Yes?”

“You’ll think me insane,” she laughed.

“Never.”

She leaned forward, her eyes darting around as if the very shadows could have ears, and then she fixed her gaze on him with utter seriousness.

“I think he might be a wizard,” she whispered.

Tom tried hard not to laugh. “No…”

“He’s obsessed with magic and weird rituals and such…”

It wasn’t that Tom didn’t believe her, but, well, he didn’t believe her. It would’ve been a convenient explanation for why the shop was charmed, but no real wizard would operate that openly in muggle society, even in Italy. Besides, if this Baron were a wizard, Burke would certainly have known — wouldn’t he?

“Really, Tom. He’s involved in all sorts of weirdness. Him and all of his crusty old friends…”

Tom nodded as he listened. “So you’re afraid he’ll turn you into a toad if you resign, is that it?”

“Not funny! And… maybe?”

He laughed, and leaned forward in an utterly uncharacteristic show of consolation to place his hand upon her own.

“He won’t curse you,” he promised her. “He’s just a weird old man with more money than sense. Just like the rest of them.”

She smiled back weakly at first, but her smile grew as his hand chilled and calmed her own.

“Why don’t we look at your books, Tom? I’ve been yearning to all evening.”

“Have you?” he winked. “Alright, as soon as they take the plates away.”

And once their table was cleared, he presented them to her with all the reverence befitting the venerable tomes they were masquerading as. To his relief, she did not leaf too much through them or read long lines of text. She was satisfied by checking the binding and the sound of the pages between her fingers.

“Tom… These must fetch quite a price.”

He smirked.

“But…”

His smile died. “But what?”

“I don’t think I can authorise their sale. You should probably speak to the Baron before we can accept them, and then discuss the trade for the other books you wanted.”

Tom leaned back in a contemplative manner, but inside his blood was singing. He brushed a black lock away from his forehead, fingers threading through his hair, and watched as her eyes followed the movement. I have you now, he thought, you and your obstinate Baron.

“Are you quite certain? After all, your expertise is —”

“I’m certain.”

“Alright, alright. Well,” he sighed, “I suppose if I have to…”

III

They packed up the books rather quickly after she finished reviewing them, just in case they spilt wine on them, and soon they were safely back in Tom’s messenger bag.

As they walked back together to the main street, he offered to walk her home.

“Oh, no,” she laughed, “I know the way, really.”

“Come on, it’s —” he checked his watch, “half past ten. What sort of gentleman would I be to let you walk the streets alone at night?”

He only had to flash a smile at her in that practised way for her to yield.

The ride on the tram was pleasantly cool, the evening breeze caressing their cheeks, playing in their hair, rustling the edges of their shirts. It cleared away the wisps of wine still swirling through their heads.

Tom kept a soft and harmless smile throughout the ride, but he let his eyes linger quite openly. He wanted her to feel desired, wanted her to be seen in a way that was more appreciative, more personal, than whatever crass wolf-whistling and leering she was usually subjected to in Rome.

Their hands rested side by side on the worn seats, not touching except when the jostling on the tracks swayed them briefly together. He could see her lips fight back a smile whenever it happened.

The walk to her building was slow, and they barely spoke, except to arrange for his meeting with her employer. Tom made passing note of the information, but his attention was mostly fixed on her. She seemed less happy the closer they got to her street, even though he thought his company might be enough of a tonic. It usually was for women…

He made a point to look around, pretending to see it all for the first time. She only looked ahead, or at the ground.

“I’ll have to call him in advance, of course. He has an unpredictable schedule.”

“Of course,” said Tom.

“I’ll speak with his secretary… She will know when he’s available.”

“Hmm.”

“Will you speak to Mr. Burke in the meanwhile?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t think so. He entrusts me with everything.”

“That must be nice,” she said with a faint smile.

“It’s not because he trusts me,” said Tom. “He’s just not clever enough to make such decisions. Only clever enough to realise it.”

“Even better,” she laughed. “A dumb employer might be a blessing.”

“You would think so,” he scoffed. “But it’s a burden. Any sort of boss is a burden.”

The scenery was no more pleasant than the last time he’d followed her home, but now Tom found his steps easing as he walked, his shoulders falling back, body disarmed. It was… nice to talk to someone so openly. He never would have imagined he needed it.

“Well, this is it,” she said as they stopped in front of her building. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her girlish joy forgotten. “Not all that glamorous, I know.”

“Compared to my hotel, it’s palatial.”

She chuckled. “So I suppose by now you’ve seen everything Rome has to offer, good and bad.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve seen everything yet,” said Tom with a subtle smirk.

She looked into his eyes and understood enough to blush. He held her gaze, ready for the slightest opening, anything she was willing to give him.

“Erm, do you know your way back?”

His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t going to invite him upstairs? But he’d been so good to her… And he was certain she was attracted to him. The whole reason why he’d asked her on a date and walked her to her squalid home was to seduce her. And she wasn’t even interested?!

“Yes, I… think I’ll be alright.”

“Good, well… Good. So, erm, good night,” she smiled. “Thank you for walking me home. And for dinner.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” said Tom, taking her hand and bending for a kiss.

“Y-yes. Good night,” she said, again. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he nodded.

She cast him a parting glance before entering her building, the door closing with a wicked scratch of rust behind her. Tom waited until she was out of sight to sigh. So, no seducing her to make the whole process easier, no getting her on his side… He hadn’t dealt with bookish girls since Hogwarts, and he’d forgotten what a handful they were. She really was going to do everything by the rules.

IV

When he finally arrived back at his hotel and started to get ready for bed, he realised why she’d laughed at his choice of dinner. He parted his lips in a grimace and stared at himself in the mirror, an angry frown and shameful blush crawling on his face. He looked halfway between horrid and hilarious. His teeth were stained black as if he’d just crawled out of a swamp. The nero di seppia. The squid ink from his spaghetti had made his teeth black.

[ghulehvous]

Behind every great Ministry is a horde of petty bureaucrats

His Unholiness Papa Emeritus Nihil (Emeritus) 

Veneration of Relics Hall

The Crypt

Ministry Headquarters

4 March 2020

Dear Papa Nihil,

We regret to inform you that you are no longer eligible for the Ministry’s final salary pension scheme and that payments will cease with immediate effect. 

The Ministry’s generous pension provision allows for the beneficiary to receive a guaranteed income, based on your previous earnings, for life. That is to say, while one has a corporeal form. 

You no longer have a corporeal entity and your spirit is now tied to another plane of existence. Thus, per the Ministry-Infernal Treaty (Afterlife, Additional Lives and Resurrections) of 1649, the maintenance of your ethereal form is now the responsibility of whichever realm or channel through which you choose to manifest. 

If you are unhappy with our decision you may make a complaint to the Pensions Ombudsman or pursue a judicial review. However, you should be advised that Hell hath no fury like a petty administrative bureaucrat scorned. 

NemA and kindest regards,

Ministry (In)Human Resources 

Cc: Ministry files - Emeritus, Nihil; Mr Saltarian

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 2

The Corroded Coffin boys are here and ain’t down with Eddie have to share a room with Steve fucking Harrington. (Don’t worry they come around, just some faster than others.)

Part 1

*

Steve woke up to the sound of two heart monitors beeping in rhythm to each other. He moaned and he could feel that there was someone holding his hand.

“Steve?” Robin asked.

His eyelashes fluttered and he could blearily make out her face. “Robs?”

She reached over the guardrail and pressed a button repeatedly. Two nurses came rushing in.

“He’s awake!” Robin told them excitedly.

The first nurse started taking readings on all the machines he was hooked up to while the other came over with a cup of ice chips.

She pressed the cup to Steve’s lips. He gasped when the cold ice hit his mouth and then slid down his throat. He greedily drank more until she pulled the cup away.

“How are we feeling today, Mr Harrington?” the first nurse asked.

“Steve,” he insisted. “Mr Harrington makes me feel old.”

Robin giggled. “You are old.”

“Steve, then,” the nurse said with a smile. “On a scale between zero and ten how would you rate your pain? Zero being none at all, five being it hurts a lot and I can deal with it, and ten being kill me, kill me now.”

Steve laughed. “Um...I’d say a four. It hurts but not a lot, a lot, if you know what I mean.”

The second nurse twisted a little nob on the equipment and suddenly Steve felt a rush of relief.

“That should help,” the first nurse said. “The doctor will be in in about ten minutes to go over your prognosis.”

Steve nodded. The two nurses left and he looked at Robin. “How’s Eddie?” He hadn’t bothered to ask the nurses because they would have told him he wasn’t family and not given him a damn thing.

She stood up and pulled back the curtain. There on the other side was Eddie still asleep with an older man clutching Eddie’s hand to his lips.

The man looked up for the first time and saw them watching him. He cleared his throat and stood up.

Steve watched as the man walked up to him.

“I’m Wayne Munson,” he said, introducing himself. “And you saved my boy.”

“Steve Harrington,” Steve replied and stuck out his hand.

Wayne smiled. “I know who you are, son. This girly and about a half dozen feral children have been telling me all about you.”

Steve blushed. “I’m sure they’re over-selling it.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think they are.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Steve asked, looking over at Eddie. He looked so small. So...dim. The Eddie Munson Steve had gotten to know in the Upside Down was always so bright and animated. But there was none of that now.

“Oh yeah,” Wayne said with a grin that Steve recognized even if it was a little strange seeing it on another face. “He woke up before you did.” He jutted his thumb at his nephew.

Steve grinned back. “He always did have a flare for the dramatic.”

Wayne’s grin softened to a warm smile. “That he does. The first thing you should know is, he would want you to know is that the government pulled their cover up bullshitery and he’s been cleared of all charges. He’s a free man. And they’ve given me the name of a good lawyer in case I wanted to sue the town for orchestrating that witch hunt.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief and all the tension that was in his body melted away. “That’s really good news, sir. This town will never believe it but that’s good to hear.”

Wayne chuckled. “I think they just might.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what close-minded assholes love more than an outsider to hunt?” Steve shook his head. “A venerated hero to topple. They placed the blame on the dead Carver kid.”

Steve blinked as his eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead. “Jason is dead?”

Wayne nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Shit.” Steve reached out for Robin’s hand again and she took his, giving it a squeeze.

Wayne grasped the guardrails of the hospital bed and breathed out slowly through his nose. “They said that he killed Chrissy because she was flirting with Eddie. Then killed Patrick when he refused to continue to hunt him. After all Andy’s witness statement could go for Jason as much as it could my boy.”

“And Fred?” Steve asked in morbid curiosity.

“Attacked by the same animals that got Ed.”

Steve stared at him in stunned silence. “So now everyone thinks that Jason riled up the town to hunt Eddie because he was the real killer?”

Wayne hummed. “Right in one, kid.”

Steve started laughing hysterically.

“Oi!” Eddie called from the bed next to him. “Fucking noisy neighbor. I’m trying to sleep here.”

Steve smiled. “Good to see the bats didn’t suck out all your snark.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve. “I have an unlimited supply.”

“It’s a Munson family trait,” Wayne agreed.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Oh god, I don’t think I can handle two of them.”

Robin patted his thigh. “How do you think I felt the last three hours? It was horrible!”

Eddie and Wayne laughed.

“I like your new friends, Ed,” Wayne said with a grin. “Not that your old friends weren’t great. These two are funny.”

“And we aren’t funny?” Jeff said from the door. “You wound me!” Behind him Brian and Gareth were also making dramatic gestures.

“Guys!” Eddie cried. “Hey!”

The three of them shuffled in and they glanced at Robin and Steve warily as they passed them.

Eddie saw Gareth’s bandaged hand. “What the fuck, man?”

Gareth grinned. “Further proof that Jason Carver was the real villain. The dude tortured me to try and find out where you were.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie cursed. “That is messed up.”

They shifted nervously. “Lucas was with him.”

Steve and Robin’s heads snapped their direction.

“Seriously?” Robin squeaked.

Jeff looked over at her and nodded sheepishly.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Jeff’s wrist. “He was trying to lead them away from me but they caught on too quickly.”

Gareth gulped. “You sure?”

Even Steve and Robin were waiting on bated breath.

“Yeah, he told me,” Eddie said. “He was here earlier. He’s–he’s the reason Jason is dead.” He waved his hands wildly when he saw the stricken expressions on everyone’s faces. “He didn’t kill him or anything. Jason came looking for me at the Creel house and found Max and Lucas and Erica. Jason went crazy and started spewing a bunch of hateful shit. So Lucas punched him and because Jason was unsteady on his feet when the earthquake hit, he tumbled out the window to his death. Lucas was pretty broken up about it.”

“Poor kid,” Gareth said. “I guess it goes to show that you can’t be a nerd and jock. You can’t straddle that line and have it turn out well for anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said. “Lucas can be good at sports and play D&D. He’s was trying protect his friends. And I hope this doesn’t kill his love for either.”

The room became deathly silent.

Brian turned to Steve. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve looked down at his hospital gown in confusion. “Being treated for the same animal bites as Eddie?”

Just then the doctor bustled in. He stopped short when he saw the large crowd at Eddie’s bed.

He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, I need to speak to the patients regarding their care. Would you be so kind as to step out for a moment? Just a moment. You’ll be able to speak to your friend after I am done.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a glance, but Brian bristled.

“Why do we have to go?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of chest. He wasn’t a small kid by any stretch of the imagination.

“I am going over sensitive medical information,” the doctor said curtly, “that under law can only be given to the patient or to someone they have deemed by signature on a legal document to share such medical information with.” He lowered his glassed and looked Brian square in the eye. “Now do you want to comply and come back in a few minutes or do you want to be escorted out of this hospital by security and not allowed back inside unless under medical duress?”

Jeff tapped his shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s go. It’s just standard procedure. They did they same thing when my cousin Ally had her appendix out.”

Brian went begrudgingly but he did go. Robin followed them out. She wasn’t old enough to sign legal documents yet, her eighteenth birthday a month a way. So she couldn’t supersede Steve’s parents being his medical contact.

Yet.

Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20

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