#my experience there has been pretty peaceful! though i still long for the days when i only had 3 art accounts to juggle 😔

[eunnieboo]

i've been quietly posting to bluesky for the past few months but now it's open to the public! come join me if you like~

[fumekara]

ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE (Part 1)

SatoSugu x Gn reader 

Plot: Your relationship with the strongest sorcerers in Japan was falling apart after they yelled at you and broke your heart.

n/a: English is not my first language, there will be a second part of this writing experiment, I am not very satisfied with how it came out. 

Tw: A lot of angst, polyamorous relationship, swearing, mention of the death of one's pet, the reader has a cat, in this version Geto is a sorcerer. If you are sensitive to mourning for your pets, do not interact with this fic. 

WC: 2.2K 

After parking in the driveway, you sank into the car seat, still gripping the steering wheel with both hands and let yourself go into convulsive, uncontrollable crying. 

For days, you had been stifling the inner turmoil that gripped you, holding back your tears and trying not to think back to Satoru and Suguru's words that had hurt you so deeply, to the fact that your relationship with the two men you loved so much was slowly falling apart…

To the fact that you had just lost your cat.

On the passenger seat lay a cat collar, the same collar that your cat, Nuko, had long held until an hour before and was now without an owner. 

You did not know whether your tears were only and solely due to the cat's disappearance or because Nuko's death was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He had kept you company for years, you had adopted him in high school when he was still a kitten, you had cared for him by loving him and giving him everything he needed, and you had taken him with you when you moved in with Satoru and Suguru.

You would never see your little friend again, of course you expected this, he was still an old cat and for a couple of days he had been giving clear signals about his health showing that he was not well at all, so you took him to the vet, even though you knew there was little you could do for him. 

The death of your pet is something everyone has to face sooner or later, after all Nuko had lived a long and happy life. 

However, you hoped he would stay with you a little longer, because you had long felt that Nuko was the last one in that house who cared for and needed you. 

And now he’s gone.

You know you made the right choice, the vet had informed you that his condition was too critical, in a few weeks he would have died anyway, but this would have put him out of his misery straight away. Simple and painless, he would feel nothing, he would go in peace. 

And so you did.

You held back tears when you gave the OK for the operation, you held back tears when you removed Nuko's collar from his soft gray fur, you held back tears when you stroked and cuddled him for the last time. 

"Thank you for always being there for me, you have been a great friend," you told him hoping he would understand that he would be loved and remembered even when he was gone. 

You held back tears when you stayed by his side and when the vet told you the operation was successful. 

You held back tears when you filled out the paperwork at the reception desk, you held back tears when you left the veterinary clinic and headed for the car park, and you held back tears as you drove home.

But now the emotions you had repressed were pouring out of you and you couldn't control them, all you could do was cry and think about what would happen when you got out of the car and crossed the threshold of your home. 

You hadn't said anything to Satoru and Suguru, they didn't know anything about what had just happened and you were pretty sure they wouldn't care and wouldn't give you any consolation anyway, you weren't even sure they loved you any more since you'd had that fight.

——————

That day was hard for them. You first noticed that both of them must have had a bad day at work, the small scratches on their faces was evidence and they were also more nervous than usual, Suguru also must have injured himself during the last mission as he was holding his side and struggling to keep his back straight. 

You knew that their work as teachers and wizards exhausted them and often made them return home with a few extra bruises. You always took care of them when they needed it, several times you treated their bruises and cuts when they returned from a particularly demanding mission, often relying on Shoko's advice on how to treat them. 

You received a kiss on the forehead or lips from them as a thank you.

You always offered your boys a shoulder to cry on and all the love you could give them, and they did the same to you. And you wore their love like armor to face the storms of life and work. 

They were at the front door, Satoru had just taken off his shoes, while Suguru had taken off his coat with difficulty and extreme caution, confirming your hypothesis that he had been injured on the mission. 

You greeted them with a smile and walked over to hug them as you always did.

"Not now Y/N," Satoru told you firmly in a colder tone than usual. You turned away from them as you saw them heading towards the kitchen, hearing the white-haired male cursing in a low voice. Suguru made his way behind him as if he had not noticed your presence as he grunted from the pain in his right side. 

You were amazed at their behavior. Normally they would have welcomed you into their arms and told each other how your days went. 'Did something bad happen?' you thought as you joined them in the kitchen. 

Satoru had his back to you with his hands resting on the sink jamb while Suguru sat at the table, both of them seemed to be rather restless. 

"Is everything alright guys?" you asked hoping you could figure out what had made them so nervous.

You heard Satoru sigh heavily "Yes, everything is fine" he said coldly still holding your shoulders. 

You looked at Suguru hoping that at least he could give an answer to your question, but the black-haired man seemed not to be interested in doing so.

You approached your boyfriend's side to see how serious his wound was, you hadn't seen any blood or anything, but you wanted to be sure there was nothing too serious. Between him and Satoru, Suguru was the more patient and calm of the two. You gently brushed one of the long black locks from his face and gave him a small smile. He must not have liked the gesture, however, because he turned away as if you had given him an electric shock. 

You tried to maintain a caring attitude, not wanting to make the situation worse. 

"Are you okay? Are you hurt, dear?" 

"Y/N, please let it go. It's fine," he said, not using his usual sweet and calm tone. 

You didn't like this attitude they were both using with you at all. But you were really worried and did your best to try to be helpful. 

"Let me help you, Sugu', if it's serious I can...". 

"Y/N stop, I told you that you don't have to worry about it!" he interrupted you acidly as he gave you an icy stare, making it clear that he had no interest in talking to you, much less getting treatment from you.

You looked down at the floor and got up from your chair, leaving Suguru alone, but this made your worries increase. 

You approached Satoru who had removed the blindfold from his eyes, but still had his back to you. "Toru... What's going on?" you gently touched his hand, hoping that a small trace of your warmth might give him some comfort, but your gesture was bitterly rejected as he removed his hand from yours. 

"Y/N stop it, I already told you it's OK!" he said, raising the volume of his voice a little too high "For God's sake, stop being so fucking clingy!" 

"I just want to know what's going on" you said, turning to both of them "you know you can tell me about everything".

"Y/N enough!" you heard Suguru as he turned in his chair towards you "we have other things to think about and we don't have time for your bullshit".

Now you felt offended, you knew they weren't really mad at you. They were using you as an excuse to vent their frustrations. But you didn't like being scolded when you just wanted to help. It wasn't the first time this had happened, lately it seemed like they were getting ruder and ruder with you every time something went wrong.  You were starting to get sick of it. 

"Wanna know how it went at work, Y/N?" asked Satoru sarcastically " SHITTY, that's how it went. The meeting with that bunch of assholes from our superiors went horribly and on top of that we got our asses kicked by a special level curse." he paused "And the last thing we need is you asking us to hug you and give you attention. Are you satisfied now?"

"I wasn't looking for attention, I just wanted to he-" 

"Y/N for the last time, piss off!" shouted Suguru at you making you realize it was time to stop. You looked at them both in astonishment, you were sure that the last people who would say such a thing to you were them, your boyfriends. 

Geto noticed your expression and that was enough to soften him "Just...leave us alone now, please." he said in a calmer tone. 

They both looked away from you. 

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the floor with a sad expression " I'm sorry" you said and left the kitchen.

______________

That evening you did not speak to each other, you dined in silence and kept your gaze fixed on your plate so as not to meet their eyes. You didn't know if they were still bothered by you, but the words they had said to you kept coming back to you. About how they thought you were clingy and that your mere presence was enough to make them lose their temper.  

When you finished eating, you decided to wash the dishes in the sink, as Satoru had set the table and Suguru had prepared dinner that night. 

As you were drying the last dish, you realized that your cat's bowl, which was lying on the kitchen floor, was still full from this morning, also the water bowl. You hadn't actually seen Nuko all day. 

You put the dry dish back in the cupboard and went to the living room to see if your cat was there, perhaps lying on the sofa or armchair.

"Nuko?, where are you buddy?" you called him as you walked around the rooms of the house looking behind the curtains, the sofa, the television, but nothing. 

It had happened before that Nuko left the house and returned after a couple of days, but that was when he was still a young and energetic cat, now he was old and spent his days in the house or in the garden.

you looked in the bedroom you shared with the boys and looked under the bed to see if he was hiding there.

"What are you doing Y/N?" 

You looked up even though you knew it was Suguru's voice.

"I can't find Nuko, he hasn't touched food today," you stood up avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. 

"Have you tried the guest room? He really likes it," he told you, scratching the back of his head and staring at the wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. 

The guest room was your bedroom before you moved into Satoru and Suguru's when you made your relationship official. However, Nuko had a habit of taking naps there, as if habits die hard for him. 

You headed toward the room and, not seeing the cat above the sheets, peeked under the bed. Nuko was lying in the shadows and raised his little head after noticing your presence. 

"What's wrong buddy?"

________

Satoru and Suguru knew they had to apologize to you, but they had decided to give you some space after what happened. They did not ask you why you had decided to sleep in the guest room so that you could come and sleep with them, even though they would have liked to do so. 

"We really messed up, Sugu," Gojo murmured, "I feel bad about what happened, we went too far with them, they didn't deserve it."

Suguru also felt guilty about the way things had gone with you, but at the time he had yelled at you he was convinced he had a broken rib and was furious about being reprimanded by his superiors at the meeting. When he had seen you looking for Nuko he had tried to apologize, but could not find the words. 

"Yes me too, tomorrow we will apologize to them properly," he said, turning off the light.

"No shit."

They hoped that the next morning things would settle down. It was not the first time you had argued, but never had they used those words with her in that way. Both men were happy and lucky to have you in their lives and were so grateful for the love the three of you had built together, but they feared they had crossed a zone from which there was no turning back. 

Click here for part 2

[inkskinned]

something that stuck with me once, way back in middle school when i was still learning how to write - my teacher said "writing shock and tragedy is easy, it's humor that's the hardest."

i have been up and down the halls of academia. i have the fancy degree and the experience in publishing. i think i paved most of my own road with the little bricks of sorrow i had stored inside of me. i know i did it mostly with works that are blisteringly lonely. i know why we write like that. it's lifesaving.

but yeah, i mean. i also know how much people think that "sad" media is the same thing as "good" media. our human desire to connect is so hard-pressed that we immediately latch onto any broken themes. the bullied kids and the tales of inspiration. people keep saying things like "glass onion" and "everything everywhere" weren't actually good. because, you know, they're. happy. or happy-ish. happy enough. and we only value art if it's grimdark-adjacent.

do you know - people still consistently whine at me that my writing would be so good if i just capitalized things. i used to flinch. i get kind of a weird, vindictive little rush these days - i get to say thank you for the comment! i have chronic pain and this is how i conserve my hands so i can write more during the day :) grammar isn't real anyway! and now they're trapped in the room with me, you know? i get to pull out my map and show them how grammar is not the same thing as good writing.

writers have this thing. we scratch at our insides, constantly, prying our lives apart into splinters. prying the splinters apart into atoms. when we combust something into poetry, we control it. it cannot hurt us if it exists outside of us rather than burning a hole through the bottom of our lungs. it's not a wonder to me that so much of what i make comes out like a death gasp. i spent a long time at the bottom. i keep going back, too. when you're down there for so long, the only thing you can exhale is fumes.

but humor is hard. humor needs timing; which i can't promise in a paragraph. i can kind-of force it through careful spacing, but i have no idea how fast you're reading these things. humor needs a somewhat awareness of your audience, when really - anybody could be looking. humor needs us to understand what the joke is, why it's a joke, and to think - ha! that is funny. in tragedy, everyone understands the metaphor of a kicked puppy. in humor, you need to introduce them to the concept of a dog.

and forget about positivity. forget about anything not made for adults explicitly. every time i see a well-made children's media piece, i feel fucking horrible for the creators. most of the time, people see children's media as being sort of "not worth" applause, even though i'm pretty sure they have to work twice as hard. i have no idea how hard it must be to not be able to have your character just say. "well, fuck." something about a message of peace or friendship or caring - for some reason, that makes the media not for adults. like, okay. i'm pretty sure my father actually, out of all of us, could use a good book on how to control his temper and talk about his feelings.

but whatever. i write a short story about my ocd, and how it's fucking killing me. it gets an award. it gets published. i write a short story about my ocd, and how i'm overcoming it, and how my days are getting lighter and starting to flourish. i keep getting ghosted. no response. it just is lacking... something.

is this it, forever? you can be an artist, okay. but the trade off is that the things you make - if they're happy? if they're joyful? people will say it's stupid and pandering. you bite your nails off. you file your teeth. you hear something inside of you breaking.

the other day in a writing group, someone i'd thought of as a friend said: "you write so much better these days! i love what you make when you'd rather be dead."

[egberts]

we are finally home after a busy day. if you don't know already, callie passed away this morning. she fought so hard for the last month and held on for long enough that everyone who knows her and loves her got to see her and say goodbye while she was still in good spirits. unfortunately in the days leading up to this morning she suddenly rapidly declined again and we knew it was time. i won't go into the sad details but despite her condition she continued to love and be loved. she fell asleep in my arms leading up to her final moments, and we got to give her so many hugs and kisses. it didn't take long for the medicine to take her when it was finally time, she was already so weak. her personality has always been so quirky, it was hard to see her decline but she was still so full of love to the very end.

immediately after she passed alana and i went to a boardwalk nature trail and just walked for a while before going for ice cream (the cashier was incredibly nice to us, we must have seemed in need of cheering up because this was a theme of the day)

after ice cream we came home and cleaned up callie's things. vacuumed up some of the cat hair and packed away her furniture and the things we wanted to keep, we set aside some things for her memorial space, and we took everything else to the animal shelter.

just packing up her things was already somewhat cathartic but while at the shelter we decided to visit with the kitties and this was actually a very good idea. it was so bizarrely comforting, seeing and holding the small lovable kittens and realizing in a way that one day we will be able to get a cat as loving as callie was and it will be easy to fall in love with it too.

after the animal shelter, we had to swing by our house again to get the bulk pack of wet food that was delivered, very cruel irony there. it was a $50 box so i reached out for a refund and was given one pretty much immediately and told not to return the food, which gives us a reason to go back to the shelter on monday and donate this food too. (and visit more kitties of course)

we were probably keeping ourselves busy subconsciously, but it was good for us i think, because next we went to a state park and just enjoyed some time by the ocean. we saw so many crabs and even a heron came right up to us!

and you'd think that's the end of the day's adventure but no, after that we went to get pizza for dinner (because cooking is just not an option right now iykyk) and we saw a deer!! a freaking random deer after already seeing a random heron, it was just amazing.

finally we went to target to grab some necessary groceries as some kind of weird semblance that even though callie is gone life has to go on.

i am not kidding when i say every single other human we had to interact with today was nothing but kind to us. all friendly smiles. we didn't tell any of them what happened and yet every single one of them from the ice cream shop girl to the lady at the state park and even the target self checkout person. it was genuinely a beautiful day despite everything. it almost feels like callie's loving energy was just with us throughout the day.

i'm going to miss her so much, and knowing she's gone forever is very hard but i don't think i could've asked for a better experience with it. now it's time to finish up the last bit of cleaning and take a much needed shower.

after her urn and ashes arrive i'll post one final callie update, but as of now this is it. she is gone, resting in peace on the other side of the rainbow bridge. our sweet angel baby 💗

the cutest gradient trio ever btw

[mysadcorner]

Reader’s in her pre-period shit. She’s in a point of extreme horniness and anger at the same time.

It’s happen to me every pre-period days and it’s most difficult part of my life 😣

How would batboys react reader being both angry and horny at the same time?

Congratulations your 600 followers btw I hope it’ll be something like 600000 one day 🥳🥳

Batboys x Pre-Period!Reader Headcanons

-Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific with characters in requests -

Masterlist Navigation

2,000 followers now!!!

Dick Grayson

• Dick probably hasn’t had a lot of experience with living with women after he was adopted by Bruce, and he certainly hasn’t held a lot of seriously long term partners despite his many relationships. He may not know how to handle your conflicting feelings at first, but he’s always willing to figure them out to keep peace and to help you feel better.

• He wouldn’t be a huge fan of the mood swings, but he’s still able to handle them pretty well. He’s good at calming people down when they’re feeling tense, and you can hardly stay angry at Dick for very long. Plus he’s more than willing to help you out when you’re craving intimacy from him.

• If you’re usually in the mood for intimacy with Dick in the days leading up to your period, he will be thrilled to help you out. He may not always have the time and he may be tired due to how much he has to do during the day and going on patrol at night, but he will always find a way to make more time for you.

• He would try his best to be sensitive towards you, and will always apologise if he accidently upset you or made you angry in any way. However, he may end up getting tired of having to be careful around you and watch what he may say or do at this time every month due to you potentially being overly sensitive.

• Going through this every month may be tiring for the both of you but Dick will be more than capable to handle and deal with it. He also loves you very much, so he isn't going to let your anger get in the way of anything in your relationship together and will make the most of you wanting to be intimate with him.

Jason Todd

• Jason is going to be very confused if you haven't opened up to him about what you're feeling or what the problem might be that you're facing. He'll try his best to understand, but until you open up to him about what you're actually going through he's going to be pretty clueless.

• He wouldn't be a big fan of the mood swings as he hates being snapped at, especially since he's allowed himself to be vulnerable in a relationship with you. You being mad at him is much different to the people he fights on the street or one of his family members being angry at him, so if you're not going to be direct and honest with him (and instead are just irritable and angry) then he isn't going to force himself to be around you.

• Jason would have no problems with you being in the mood for intimacy more often that you usually were, so you certainly won't have any complaints from him about this. He'll also feel a lot more comfortable initiating intimacy with you now that he knows that you're naturally more inclined to want the same thing as him.

• He always tries his best to be sensitive about the things he says or does around you because he naturally has a hard time doing so after all he's been through. He may mess up with this though as he's naturally very outspoken and rough, so if he does upset you he just wants you to know that he didn't do it on purpose.

• For Jason, this being an occurrence every month wouldn't bother him too much as long as the two of you aren't fighting because of it. He doesn't really care how much the two of you make back up and resolve arguments if there's just going to be another one around the corner - and he really doesn't have the patience to put up with it.

Damian Wayne

• Damian is usually very stoic while also being attentive. So when he first finds that you're having conflicting emotions around this time he wouldn't assume that is was because of the hormonal influence you may be under, and would immediately assume there was a problem that he needed to fix. He wouldn't catch on to what the problem actually is until you explain it to him, and even then he may act uninterested about it at first when he realises you're not facing any threats or trouble.

• Damian doesn't care if you're having mood swings, and he'll hold firmly the belief of treating someone how you always intend to treat them. The fact that you may be snapping at him without provocation or getting mad at him randomly shows that you're not in control of your emotions (or in his mind you're not trying to be). So no matter how much he loves you, mood swings are not something he'll simply put up with just for the sake of keeping you calm when he's not the one at fault for your behaviour.

• If you're in the mood then he will of course be more intimate with you, whenever the time is right. He isn't the type to be intimate with someone on a whim, so even if he is in a relationship with you, he'd prefer to wait until the two of you could have some proper alone time instead of just rushing around whenever one of you is in the mood.

• Damian has a hard time being sensitive towards anyone, but as you're someone he loves he will do his best to be a bit more gentle around you. He likes and needs someone strong willed, especially with the lifestyle he has (so despite being sensitive towards you, he does get tired of needing to very quickly).

• Having to deal with this every month would not be something he's willing to put up with, especially as your mood swings may cause some insecurities about the defence he's constantly trying to keep up for his own safety. He also isn't one to put up with arguments at all from someone he truly cares about, so if this does consistently happen every month and he suffers from it you can't expect him to put up with it for long.

Tim Drake

• Tim is always going to try and find the root of the problem, so when he finally realises what may be causing your temper or sudden bursts of wanting intimacy he's relieved to know that it's just something simple and not a problem in your relationship together going on.

• He doesn't like dealing with you mood swings, because this guy feels bad whenever you do already, so for this to happen pretty often he's going to be going through an emotional rollercoaster with you. He'll try to keep the peace between you and calm you down whenever he can, but he does hate the arguments no matter how much you blame mood swings (especially as it's not fair for him to have to deal with).

• Tim will always be excited when you're in the mood, so you don't have to worry about him turning you down too often; although, he does sometimes get too caught up in his work meaning he doesn't always have enough time to do whatever you want when you want. As long as there are boundaries about you not trying to distract or impose anything while he's doing something important then he'll have no problems with it.

• He always does his best to be as gentle and kind as he can be towards you, so you'll never have to worry about him being mean or having to be more sensitive around you. He's quick to notice slight changes in your behaviour so he's also pretty good to notice when he should or shouldn't say certain things to you.

• Tim is pretty good at dealing with this kind of situation, so he doesn't mind putting up with it every month. He will be tired sometimes, so it wouldn't really bother him unless it results in a serious argument or something bad happening because of either a mood swing or getting in the way of his work to get his attention.

[justporo]

A Night of Song and Laughter

Well, Baldur's Gate and Astarion have me by the neck, more than I'd like to admit... So I wrote fanfiction to get my love out for this vampire. It's about Astarion and Tav settling down in Baldur's Gate, trying to enjoy some domestic peace as couple but also getting into some trouble that always seems to find them. And also I thought, wouldn't it be nice if they showed each other their favorite spots around town? So they go to a tavern, drinks are had, lots of fluff and some smut happens, knives are held to throats, exes (Tav's) are met... A whole lot of fun. Read here under the cut or directly on AO3!

Rating: Explicit (especially for later chapters)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Summary: Set some time after the events of Baldur's Gate 3 Astarion and you (Tav) decided to settle down in Baldur's Gate and see what the city has to offer for you. You enjoyed some domestic peace but you didn't seem to be able to shake off the trouble that surely always came looking for the both of you - and maybe you delighted in that as well.

One night you decide to show Astarion one of your favourite places in the city hoping to enjoy some drinks, maybe dance; just have some fun. Fun comes in very different kinds of flavours though as you two should know: from being twirled around endlessly in your lover's arms or stealing naughty kisses and maybe even more in dark hidden alleyways to holding a knife to someone's throat who's threatening what you love the most in this world.

Spoiler warning! (Gif from here)

Part 1: Down, down the cobblestones...

You convinced Astarion to stop the ritual so the vicious cycle of heedless and cruel power might be broken. You believe you two can figure out whatever life may throw at the two of you, you’ve already had come so far, haven’t you? So you settled with taking everything you could gather from Cazadon’s estate and liquidate it to kickstart a new life together in Baldur’s Gate. You bought a small but quite luxurious town house in the better part of town which you'd probably gotten criminally under it’s market price, but the two of you could be quite the convincing duo.

You’ve spent the weeks after your long and exhausting adventures with the mundane aspects of life. Since Astarion has yet again become a creature of the night you decided to adapt to his daily cycle. After all you also once were very keen to keep to the darker times of day when survival for you meant a quick sleight of hand and even quicker feet even you didn’t mean to get caught.

You decorated your new home with an assortment of different things: thick brocade curtains for every one of the tall windows to keep Astarion safe and dark, a bed of course – the largest one you could find - , books, trinkets, more furniture. For the time being the two of you were perfectly fine with being settled down and just enjoying slow and relaxing days, making love every night. As long as the gold from your adventures lasted you were more than happy to just focus on the two of you.

You also made a habit out of it to show each other your favourite places around town, since you had such different experiences – even though both pretty dark and traumatizing – living in different areas of the city. It could have been two different cities altogether. So this night you decided to show Astarion your favourite tavern in the city.

You were walking down the cobblestone roads of the upper city. It was a pleasant night in late spring. Summer hadn’t really grasped the city yet, but it was already delightfully warm but the nights still long: in other words, perfect for a night out for you and Astarion.

You had your arm hooked into his and your head leaned on Astarion’s shoulder.

“So, tell me again please, darling, where exactly are you taking me?”, Astarion said while softly patting your hand you had nestled in the crook of his arm.

“Maeve’s”, you answer, lifting your head up and smiling brightly at him. You knew exactly you were at this terrible lovebirds stage of your relationship where everything in the world is pleasantly pink and warm – except everything in the world was possibly very grossed out because of your lovey-dovey demeanor. Neither of you could have cared less, this was the first shot both of you ever got at just being happy in life.

“Oh, please spare me with all the details, my love”, Astarion replied, sarcastically raising his voice and leaning his head to one side. Humour glinted in his ruby eyes.

“It’s a tavern”, you replied dryly and shrugged your shoulders. You untangled yourself from him and walked backwards while facing him. Then you tugged at the sleeve of his dark shirt he picked out this evening and dragged him along to move quicker. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

“Late for what, darling?”, he asked mockingly getting more desperate as you pulled on his arm. You just grinned at him more broadly and shrugged your shoulders again.

Astarion sighed, lifting his gaze to the clear night sky. The moonlight reflected in his light hair. Sometimes you still felt overwhelmed when you looked at him – like getting to be with him in this way was still a dream you could only wish would become true.

You stopped walking and just looked at him. So did he, his sharp rogue senses not wasting a split second to react. You put a hand on his chest, lowered your head to one side and said: “It’s ‘Maeve’s most exquisite drops and pops’. Me and the crew hung out there a lot when we had the coin for it and got shit-faced.” Astarion lifted his eyebrows and smiled appreciatively at you, having finally bribed you to answer his questions.

“Ah, so I am to learn something of your past tonight, hm? Delightful”, he replied and smirked at you in his signature way. You stole a quick peck on his lips before you turned and entangled your arm once more with his and started walking again. “Pops?”, he simply asked then, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes, pops – you know, as in popular songs?”, you answered. Astarion just looked confused. “Ugh, I forgot I am basically with an ancient relic. Get with the times, Astarion”, you joked and then laughed as he frowned and mumbled something about the youth and their useless need to shorten perfectly good words.

“Are the many words meant to make it seem more… exquisite? Because I don’t feel like it is working”, Astarion chuckled. “It might just be. I can assure you it is not though. The beer is cheap, and the wine is even cheaper. And keep away from anything edible there unless you wanna be sick for three days straight. And that” – you point a finger at him – “includes necks, my dear. But that’s how you know it’s a great place”, you kept on explaining.

The vampire raised a pale eyebrow at you: “Help me see the reasoning here, my love.” A shit-eating grin split your face once more: “Because no one’s going there for the drinks or the food but the entertainment makes more than up for it.”

Astarion looked at you as if you might have gone slightly insane but simply let you talk and lead him on in the darker, meaner, and much poorer parts of the city.

“It’s quite a famous place where travelling bands and bards come to play for a night or two. And not the talentless yappers, like Volo and the such, but the ones that really know how get a room full of grumpy and mean Baldurians going: singing, dancing, getting their blood pump. If there hasn’t been at least three fights at closing time it was a dull night”, you kept on as your eyes glossed over for a moment as you remembered days long gone by. Not exactly happy days but happy little memories, nonetheless. A slight smile danced on your lips while you remembered.

The vampire looked at you warmly and put his hand over yours on his arm once more. His heart filled with warmth at the sight of your easy smile and honest joy. His thumb slowly brushed the back of your hand: “That indeed sounds like a lot of fun, my love, maybe I’ve been to quick with my judgment. Let’s see what the night may offer to us tonight. As long as it ends with you naked in my bed, I shan’t complain.”

“Our bed”, you corrected him and teasingly poked him with your other hand.

“Of course, our bed, beautiful”, he repeated correctly. His smile grew and you led him further down the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

[disillusioneddanny]

Okay okay DPXDC idea!!!

Danny has been acting strange for weeks. Damian, being the attentive and loving boyfriend that he is has decided that it’s up to him to find out what’s wrong with the half ghost. For weeks he spends his time stalking his boyfriend, taking him as best as he can when he can. When he isn’t following Danny behind his back, Damian is doing everything to spoil his boyfriend and make sure that he’s happy.

It’s not working tho! He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. Usually he’s an amazing boyfriend but no matter what he does, it just seems as though the ghost king is restless. Danny isn’t sleeping, he’s floating through the halls of their house at all hours of the night. It’s as though the halfa is looking for something. But what? What the hell is Danny looking for? Why isn’t he happy?

One night on patrol, Damian mentions it to his brothers, not sure what else he could do to take care of his boyfriend. He’s usually so good at this. Why isn’t it working?

“His death day is coming up, right?” Todd questions.

“Yes. It will have been ten years since his accident. We have already made plans for what we are going to do to commemorate the event. Why?”

“When it’s my death day I always like to go to my gravestone. I know I’m not there anymore. But it soothes the pits and I dunno the weeks before my death day I get restless.”

“We’ve been together for five years now, Todd. He has never behaved like this in his death day before.”

“I don’t fucking know dude. Maybe since it’s the ten year anniversary it’s striking something in him. Does he have a grave he can visit?”

“No. He never fully died. And he was never buried.”

“Why don’t we hold him a funeral and give him a grave?”

So that’s what the BatFam does! They decide to hold a funeral on Danny’s death day. It’s really more like a memorial service and it’s pretty morbid. But the grin on Danny’s face as his friends and family all take the time to tell their favorite Danny stories makes Damian feel as though he’s the best boyfriend in the world. Manson and Foley both give tear jerking speeches about the day Danny died and how it had hurt them. But that they had also were so proud of the halfa and how far he had come since then.

After the eulogies Damian’s brothers all decide to throw Danny into a casket and bury him, just so the guy can get the full experience. Danny finds it absolutely hilarious and also cathartic as hell. Danny floats out of the casket to find a headstone with his birthday and death day on it. He immediately bursts into tears and pulled Damian into his arms.

“I didn’t realize how empty I felt for so long,” he whispered, face pressed against Damian’s chest. “As fucked up and morbid as this was, it was what I needed. No one ever grieved my death except me. My parents didn’t even grieve, they just wanted to experiment on me.”

“Danny, I grieve your death every single day,” Damian said, running fingers through his beloveds hair. “Every day I think about what you missed out on in life, I grieve the childhood that you lost. I grieve the parents who disowned you. I know for a fact that Manson and Foley grieved, you heard their speeches. Watching you die did a number on them and is something that still effects them. Just remember, though, you are still here and with us.”

Danny pulled back and kisses Damian, effectively embarrassing his boyfriend in front of his friends and family. The vigilante absolutely hated any kind of public displays of affection. “Thank you.”

Every death day after that, Danny and Damian find themselves in the cemetery in front of his gravestone. After a few years, Danny finally finds the courage to tell Damian the full story of how he died. Damian had a rough idea but no one had ever mentioned the full story as to how it happened. It may be fucked up and morbid, but the peace that Danny feels is more important to Damian than any kind of discomfort that he would ever feel.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

🎪 WIBTA for telling the truth about certain work-related skills I have?

There’s a LOT of backstory to this. I will be keeping it as concise as I can, but note that this is FAR from an exhaustive list of details.

I (20sNB) do a lot of theatre-related contract work in my hometown and surrounding areas. My background lies very much in the circus I grew up in (since I was 6, so it’s been a pretty considerable percentage of my life)—I do a lot of stilt walking, clowning, balance stuff, etc, and whenever I help train new people in power tool use/concession stand running/rigging/other stuff it pretty much always lets slip that the circus is in fact where I learned most if not all relevant skills that I use for that kind of job. Unsurprisingly, they often want to hear details about my pretty unique backstory.

However, my relationship with said circus has soured rather considerably over the past few years. I finally decided to fully cut ties a few months ago, and multiple people who have been in my life for a very long time had been encouraging me to do so for a number of years, so I was very supported when I did—but it still hurt a lot to actually do it when I had been there for basically my whole life. The vast majority of people there (coaches, riggers, fellow performers, etc) are people I was very close with and care for deeply—my issues with the organization lie very specifically with a few particular people who are unfortunately the ones on top. I no longer feel particularly welcome to go back there, and in all likelihood won’t be seeing most of them again. I’ve been trying to make my peace with this.

(For a little context surrounding my departure—this circus’ artistic director has had a HUGE favoritism problem for as long as I can remember. I was never a favorite. The executive director liked me quite a lot for my work ethic, and actually hired me on as staff on top of being a performer when I was 16, which is where I learned a lot of what I know about things like concessions and running crew and the like—but he was never the one making decisions about shows, and I was often belittled or downright dismissed by those who were. The incident that had most of my loved ones encouraging me to walk away happened earlier that year, when a rigging accident left me with a permanent injury that still often visibly debilitates me to this day—something else the people wanting to learn about my circus background will sometimes ask about. But I didn’t want to leave, because there was really nowhere else I could get the community + training and performing experience I was getting there, and I know full well that it was purely an accident. However, I was never satisfied with the way the organization handled the incident, and this was far from the only time I’d been dismissed as a person there—several adults in my life even compared my treatment there to an abusive relationship, and though I did not see it at the time, hindsight has me beginning to agree with them. The specific incident that finally got me to leave was probably less of a big deal than that injury was, but other factors since then had me considering leaving for quite a while before that finally happened anyways.)

I don’t really think I’m TA for leaving, even if I did do it rather abruptly and had a ton of responsibilities there that surely got dumped onto somebody else—if these new directors couldn’t even be bothered to actually ask me to reconsider, instead of just having someone from admin do it on their behalf, they probably didn’t feel all that betrayed anyways. Here’s where I’ve been running into a lot of issues lately: even though I no longer affiliate with said circus, the people who I now work with in other organizations often ask me about my involvement with it, usually because they’re interested in becoming involved themselves. I’m finding that over the months since I decided to fully sever ties there I have not been feeling any better/less raw about it at all. On the one hand, I am very tempted (and would probably find it rather cathartic at that) to warn them away from spending their time with that place specifically, for the stated reasons. On the other hand, I spent the vast majority of my life so far growing up there, there are several people still there for whom I care very deeply, and I do think it’s overall a good organization that serves (most of) the people it reaches super well—I would definitely not be the person I am today without it, and I just can’t bring myself to badmouth the entire organization for the actions of a few specific people when I know they’re always hurting for staff and the like. Unfortunately, it’s pretty much impossible to talk about my involvement with them without bringing up the circumstances of my departure, especially when people frequently ask why I would leave a place I otherwise speak so fondly of.

At this point, I think it would be much easier for me (and cause a lot less heartache overall) if I just made up some different kind of backstory of how I learned all my circus skills—but on the other hand, that’s super dishonest and I don’t know how long I’d be able to keep up a lie with any complexity to it. Is it the less assholeish move to simply tell the truth? I’m really struggling to think of any alternatives to just super awkwardly changing topics as soon as anyone compliments or asks about what I do, which probably doesn’t reflect well on me in the long run when I’m trying to rebuild my network from the ground up.

What are these acronyms?

[hjartasalt]

Just genuinely asking bc I went once years ago and it was so lovely, seemed so peaceful and the people seemed so nice. Is it the ppl or the weather or expenses or just everything you don’t like?

It's a combination of a lot of things. Idk how to really describe it other than just the whole vibe being a bit off. I mean granted I've gone through some pretty negative experiences in Iceland so I am biased but honestly after a while spent living there it really starts to get to me how small and isolated we are.

A few days ago I posted a 6 month voice update in Icelandic. It was the first time I posted in Icelandic in a very long time because I get very nervous about speaking it in recordings but I wanted to have a video of the updates in my own language so I decided to just do it anyway. More than half of the comments were just people bullying me for my speech.

To me, Iceland is a wonderful place. It is my home, it's where I'm from, it's a place like no other. It's where my family lives. It is also the place where I have been bullied and treated like an outsider my entire life for something that is entirely out of my control. It's where I was born and it's where I still get questioned on where I'm from. It's the country my name originates from and it's the one place on earth where people give me a strange look when I introduce myself to them.

I've felt stuck there for a very long time now. I hate to say it because I do still genuienly love it, I just don't love living there.

Iceland is a great place to visit. It is an extremely difficult place to be seen as an outsider in. Trying to find my place there has probably been one of the most isolating experiences I've been through in my entire life. We do have beautiful nature, though.

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline (Astarion x F! Pirate Captain OC) Chapter 2

Synopsis: The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate experience their first battle at sea in their adventure to bring Karlach back from the Hells.

CW: mentions of violence, NSFW cause these are two horny mofos (not a lot though- the next chapter is gonna be spicy as hell though)

Author note: I’m sorry this took so long! I am finally not horribly depressed and not sleeping at all due to work stress! I’ll be posting more for this story, starting a Master Vampire reader x astarion fic, and I have a lot of chapters written for my Trans Female Tav, Keeley, and Astarion that I am so excited to post! My goal is to get everything onto my new AO3 sometime this week! Oh and part 4 of I Wondered If I Could Come Home is almost complete 😈

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for your patience!

Part 1:

Chapter 2: Valkur’s Aasimar

Calypso is forever grateful to Lucifer for taking over the night time duties so Calypso can actually rest. It doesn’t make the early morning wake up any easier, but it helps. She loves her cabin and she loves the peace it provides.

The bed frame is built into the wall so that she doesn’t slide around everywhere as the ship continues to sail and there’s a washtub nailed down in one corner. Her desk and map table are equally as glued to the floor.

Calypso watched (and was an unfortunate victim of) her mother’s lack of ‘safety’ precautions when she was a captive on her ship. She was often run over by her mother’s bed or her desk- left for hours underneath them- when her mother had no use for her.

It’s been 60 years since Duke Ravenguard helped Calypso secure her freedom, but there had still been 90 years of torture and misuse. If her mother wasn’t absorbing every last drop of power from her bones- she was starving her, beating her into submission, waterboarding her, etc, etc. It’s not a reality that Calypso misses.

The soft glow of the morning sun outlining the shadows of Astarion’s face is a much better world to wake up in.

If Lucifer helps make waking up easier, then Astarion does not help- in fact the man makes it damn near impossible to leave her bed at all. She doesn’t want to have to untangle her limbs from his or wait for another 8 or 9 odd hours before she can be like this with him again.

Astarion had managed to keep her in bed later than usual over the last five days. The minute she so much as moves a muscle- Astarion has her underneath him writhing and begging for release or he’s fucking into her slowly, stealing all the air out of her lungs. It’s invigorating to say the least and her body sings under his attentive touch.

The more she learns about him, the more Calypso adores him. Astarion had opened up about his life pretty quickly after a bad trance. Supposedly one of his victims’ faces had been replaced with hers and he handed her over to Cazador. He was struggling to accept that the reality was different- that Calypso is well and truly alive in his arms. The man had been borderline inconsolable in the aftermath of the twisted memory, but Calypso had managed to coax him out of the fog and back to her.

Astarion even experienced Calypso at her worst- jealous. He learned very quickly that she wasn’t going to deal with that. When he had knocked on her door with his tail between his legs, Calypso made sure to answer and let him in wearing her skimpiest outfit- a nude, see through corset bralette and a pair of lacy nude panties. His apology ended with him eating her out on top of her map table- one of her maps needs to be replaced entirely after the affair.

She always made sure he actually wanted to engage in these activities with her- especially after learning about his history. Astarion assured her that he would let her know if he didn’t or if he needed to stop and he did. Astarion had only wanted to pleasure her that night and the rest of the night was spent just enjoying each other’s company.

Astarion will spend time with her throughout the day as well and his company is very welcome. Lucifer is usually taking his turn to sleep throughout the morning and into the evening so Calypso doesn’t have to worry about the two of them bickering.

Astarion has begun to ask her questions about the ship, how to be a Helmsman, commands, language, so on and so forth. He’s a very good student- picking it all up impressively fast. Calypso has let him man the ship (under supervision of course) as they made their way to the first stop.

Caer Callidyrr isn’t Calypso’s favorite doc to stay at, but they need to dock The Chimera and take a smaller ship into the Hells. The Chimera isn’t large, but it won’t be able to navigate safely through Stygia. Only Calypso and Lucifer will be traveling with the group of adventurers. With Callidyrr being only hours ahead of them, Calypso is confident they will make it before sunrise- provided there aren't any unexpected obstacles.

Which always seems to happen no matter how many times Calypso plans her routes out or how careful she is to avoid crossing paths with the Cult of Umberle or the Cult of Water. Now there are at least 8 Cult of Water ships heading in their direction.

Calypso isn’t paying attention to the frantic looks on the faces of Astarion and his companions as they realize they are about to be engaged in their first open water battle. She wants to reassure them (more so Astarion) that it’s going to be just fun, but there isn’t any time for that right now.

“I need Chain shots loaded- NOW!” Calypso shouts and her night crew sprints up from below the deck to join for the coming battle.

“They are chasing us at full sail, Calypso,” Lucifer’s voice holds an edge of aggression, “I’d prefer to not have a full blown battle on the Sh-“

“Yes Lucy,” she says with a wave of her hands, “I’m aware of what you would prefer and I’m working on it.”

Calypso climbs up the stairs and leans over the railing of the helm.

“Alright- we need the ship to come about! Wizards, warlocks- basically anyone who can cast gusts of wind- take position on the quarterdeck ,” she shouts, the crew shouts in understanding.

“Anyone else,” Lucifer yells, “split yourselves into two groups- I want some of you below deck readying the canons and the Chase gun! The other half- ready your bows and arrows and be prepared to fire when we are 3 fathoms away from the other ship!”

Lucifer looks up at Calypso and gestures to their guests- she raises an eyebrow.

“They all know what their capabilities are,” she states, “if they wish to travel on this ship then they need to protect it too.”

The looks of absolute dread on all of their faces is almost comical. They really have no faith in her! How hurtful.

“Well- then you heard the Captain,” Lucifer says with far too much gratification, “get to your assignments.”

“Careful, Lucy,” Calypso warned, “you sound so happy I may make you go below deck to help and let the Dragonborn be my first mate.”

Tav beamed, “I’m so glad I’m your first pick.

Astarion pouts up at Calypso and she flashes him a teasing grin before blowing him a kiss. Calypso stands on the rail and addresses the crew one final time.

“Oh,” Calypso clears her throat, “and may I remind you sorry lot that dead men tell no tales- so let’s try to make it out of this one alive- savvy?”

Everyone races to their positions. The laughter and the energy is infectious. Calypso isn’t worried a single bit and she watches the tension ease from Lucifer’s shoulders. He rarely thinks she takes anything seriously, but Calypso does. She is equally as protective of her crew and her guests- it’s not about her or the ship’s safety for her. Calypso has a special group of individuals aboard her group- her main crew consists of runaway slaves from Calimport, ex-Lolth sworn Drows who remain below deck until the night time and operate the canons, Half-Orcs who have been ostracized, Dhampirs who were abandoned at birth (Calypso would come across them and the crew worked together to raise them), etc. They aren’t a ragtag group of scummy pirates- they are all survivors who are standing together.

Well, except for the contract workers. Fuck those entitled pricks.

She jots back to the Helm- waiting for the exact moment to turn the ship.

The minute red and green flares go up in the air- the ship goes flying forward with the assistance of the many magic users casting gusts of wind on the sails. Calypso turns into the sudden rush of air allowing the ship to circle into position where it can slam the side of the other boats.

Calypso closes her eyes and takes a deep breath- letting the smell of the ocean water fill her senses. She imagines a storm surrounding the ship hurtling towards them- the waves thrashing them around and consuming them whole.

The thunder cracks the peaceful sound of the air before the dark clouds even begin to sweep across the sky- the water underneath her rumbles it’s war cry and Calypso allows Valkur’s power to consume her- like him, she can commandeer any ship, walk through water, control the weather, navigate through every storm unscathed, call upon Orca’s, etc. The best part though? No ship she sails on is able to sink- ever.

Then she hears Wyll scream, “HOLY SHIT!”

She looks over with a smile- her good friend, Hesjing, must have missed her enough to make an appearance. Or he’s just really hungry. Most likely he is really hungry and her targets make for easy prey considering they end up floundering in the ocean.

The massive Sea Wyvern goes flying over their heads and laying chaos to the ships- their flags going up in flames and the chaos keeps them from changing direction in time.

“NOW!!!!!”

The ship lurches forward in the water with the support of the extra wind and Calypso’s magic as Calypso prepares to ram into the 4 ships in the back of the line.

The bow crashes with an ear shattering noise through the first, second, and third ship. Hesjing takes one of the ships down in the front of the line. The world is full of smoke and flames- Calypso barely sees the four remaining ships beginning to form a circle to trap them in.

“GRAB ON TO SOMETHING!”

The command roars through the air as it’s repeated by the whole crew upon the deck. She takes one glance at Astarion- trying to remind herself not to get caught up in whatever emotions he is feeling.

Calypso is surprised to see the pure adrenaline in his posture and in the shadows of his face. There isn’t a single ounce of fear to be seen. She can’t help the smile that crosses her face. Poor Tav looks absolutely green and is holding onto Astarion’s arm for support. She’ll have to make sure to pick up something for sea sickness otherwise the Dragonborn may detest her forever.

The screams shattering through the air is the only thing that keeps Calypso from being lost in thought. One of the other ships had managed to turn towards them and was going to hit them very very hard. The ship will be fine- much like her powersake, Valkur, any ship she sails is indestructible. However, that means the ship will pass through the boat and they are going to have a battle on deck.

Calypso jumps over the Helm- yelling to Celeste nearby to take control of the Helm momentarily. She doesn’t check if Celeste goes there, she just keeps racing until she hits the deck.

The ship is barreling at them much faster than Calypso thought and she messily says a spell in Thaumaglossia (Celestial spell casting language). Both ships are being pulled up and to the side ever so slightly by a massive title wave- the captain of the other ship makes eye contact with her and she can see the fear as plainly as the whites of their eyes.

Magic flows through her fingertips and the tidal wave passes over them and engulfs them in the water- an air tight bubble surrounding The Chimera while they watch the enemy ship be demolished by not only a tidal wave, but the pack of Orcas that followed it.

It’s a gruesome scene- the pirate ship popping back up underneath another enemy ship and adding to the carnage. The Orcas leap and flip through the air with screaming cultists in their mouth.

The last two ships had been graciously taken down by Hesjing, who then proceeded to inhale one of the Orcas on his dive back down to the depths of the sea. The Chimera totters along the capillary waves as the Crew cheers loudly.

Calypso releases a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding and nearly stumbles to the ground when a large hand slaps her on the back.

“Excellent work as always Captain!” Toothless Tosh shouts out- everyone cheers in agreement.

“Oh yes, it was a very impressive display as always,” Lucifer says goadingly- his eyes flitting around her form, “so much so that drinks will be on the Captain tonight- hm?”

“You rat bastard,” Calypso mumbles under her breath, causing the man to laugh, “fine! But only because you actually hurried your asses up this time!”

The crew disbands with laughter- returning to their previous spots and helping to make sure everyone is injury free. Some of the less magically inclined individuals begin to pass out the rations for the day. Honestly she feels like she could fall over and fall asleep. It takes a lot of thought, magic, and concentration to be able to perform that many high power spells at once. For example- the Orcas did not show up on their own accord, they showed up because Calypso’s magic called out to them when she asked it to. She does feel poorly about Hesjing running off with one.

The sound of approaching footsteps and grumbling from a certain seasick Dragonborn fills Calypso with glee. Wherever Tav is, Astarion usually is.

The poor man is still tinted green on the tip of his scales, but luckily, he doesn’t have to utter a word.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll are smothering Calypso in questions- some she barely has any answers too. For example- how does she summon Orcas and a Sea Wyverm. Her answer? She has no fucking clue. However, she does appreciate how impressed they are.

Eventually everyone disbands to get their rations for the day. Calypso is thankful that Farview is maybe only 6 hours away and they’ll be there before the sun falls. They are running low on food and Calypso prefers to not go hungry if she can help it- especially with a crew of hangry individuals. They are all the worst people she has ever met when they are hungry- it’s great for raids.

“That was quite the show of strength, my Dear,” her lover’s melodic voice flows through her ears, “I can’t decide if I’m afraid or turned on.”

She smiles cheekily at him with an eyebrow raised, “why not both?”

“Hmm, how erotic,” Astarion teases, “should I expect to be tied up while we’re at it?”

“Perhaps, I am full of surprises, you know.”

“Oh- I am very well aware.”

Calypso can’t help it- her face always hurts when she is around Astarion (in the best way possible). Everything about him makes her smile and her heart sing. It’s proper gross if she’s being honest with herself. She never pegged herself for a smitten school girl- at least not in her adult years.

“How much longer do I have to wait to keep your attention for longer than 5 minutes at a time, East?”

Despite his teasing tone, she can sense the impatience in his tone. She tuts at him.

“I’m afraid another six hours, North,” Calypso says with an exaggerated pout, “you will have to wait several five more minute increments longer.”

The man groans and grabs Calypso’s hand- dragging her off to her cabin. The moment the door is closed- Astarion’s lips are on hers hungrily and his expert hands are already rubbing her clit, a finger and then two sliding in as soon as she’s ready- which she finds very quickly when it comes to Astarion. A hum of pleasure rolls through her body as he coaxes moans and her orgasm out of her. Her own hands have fumbled their way into his pants and she uses his precum as lube- rubbing her hands up and down his hard cock. The moans and curse words that tumble out of Astarion’s mouth are absolutely divine.

Calypso knows this is all they have time for- they would never leave if they actually had sex- and Astarion thankfully respects that, but Valkur preserve her- it’s going to be a very long six hours.

[badboyzbingobrunch]

Gorgeous (part 1) 18+

Hawthorne Michael Langdon x Fem witch reader

( enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, smut)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary:

After the announcement that a warlock will be completing the 7 wonders, both the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, and Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies try to put up an appearance of peace between the rival schools. This new chapter of peace between witches and warlocks has a potential to pave the way for the future of magic, but when Hawthorne’s “Wonder boy” is found out to be a cheat by (y/n) she fights to make him reveal himself.

****************************************************** “Alright, Ladies. Load up on the buses” Ms. Myrtle was instructing all of the students of Robichaux’s to our respective buses. The boys school had agreed to host us out of a good faith arrangement while one of their own would be performing the 7 wonders. A male completing the 7 wonders would be a sight to behold. There has never been a warlock in history who could complete 4 of the 7 wonders let alone all of them.

It was an excruciating bus ride from Louisiana to California but, after our arrival, we were greeted by every boy attending Hawthorne’s. I looked around to each of their faces. Any one of these boys could be him. It was actually pretty exciting to experience history in the making. Robichaux students were grouped into 3s and escorted to our rooms for the next two weeks. I was grouped with Amber and Elena. I was pretty new to the academy, so anyone else was grouped with would be a stranger. They seemed nice though. Each room had a large bathroom with a tub and shower. Eager to wash the bus off, my roommates and I piled into the bathroom and began washing up. “Do you think he’s cute?” Amber was washing her ginger hair in the sink as she asked Elena who was fully submerged in the tub. Elena shrugged. “A lot of them are cute.” I was in the shower letting the hot water cure the ache in my tired bones. Personally more interested in how powerful this “wonder boy” was than if he were cute. We were asked to wear the feminine version of Hawthorne’s school uniform which was a complex uniform consisting of a button up shirt, satin vest, tie, blazer, knee length skirt, stockings and Mary Janes in all black except for the long sleeve button up shirt which was white. We were expected to wear this uniform every day during our attendance here. Were we expected to participate in lessons? I suddenly felt nervous about this venture. What if I embarrassed myself in front of these strangers? My nerves kept sleep at bay. Looking at the clock it was 5 am, and I heaved a defeated sigh before putting on the uniform and pulling my hair into a neat style. Maybe the library would be a good place to practice my spells before breakfast. The entire school was silent, as everyone slept peacefully. The underground school was a true work of art, looking much more suited for a museum instead of a school. As I approached the library I could hear faint cursing from the other side of the door. I reached for the door knob just as a tall blonde boy ran out and slammed against me. The force was so intense that I fell back hard onto my bottom. He stood with his feet firmly planted on the ground and sneered in my direction. “Watch where you are going.” He spoke calmly with a cold indifference as he rolled his eyes and took elegant strides away from me. “You ran into me, jerk!” I called after him in vain as he disappeared down the hallway. Such a punk! It doesn’t matter how neatly groomed he may be. He is still a thug. A dark haired boy equally well groomed exited the library next and extended a hand to help me up. “William Banks. It’s a pleasure to meet such a lovely witch so early in the morning.” I accepted his hand with a grateful smile. “(Y/n) (L/n). It’s a pleasure to be met by a gentleman after a run in with a thug. What was his problem anyway?” William shrugged. “Something about his dad not answering him. He must be dead or something because he keeps casting summoning circles. Langdon is a weird guy, but way powerful.” My heart ached at the thought of the boy desperately trying to contact his dead father, and suddenly his rudeness was easily forgivable. “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll see you around?” William nodded eagerly. “Absolutely you will.”

Michael POV:

I just can’t understand why he isn’t answering me? Am I supposed to complete the 7 wonders on my own? Am I supposed to be proving myself to him? “Mr. Langdon! Perhaps you misunderstood the rule that ALL students were to be in attendance of their respective classes at 7 sharp. Maybe you thought you didn’t need to learn more from us now that you are our resident GOLDENCHILD, but I assure you that you do.” Mr. Chablis stood over the couch that I was resting my eyes on. I stood as respectfully as I could as I looked down at his smaller frame. “Forgive me, sir. I was up all night practicing for my performance of the 7 wonders. I rested my eyes for only a moment, but time got away from me.” I gave a small apologetic smile hoping to successfully charm him into staying out of my business. “Right! Well drink this, it’ll put some PEP back into your step.” He handed me a black mug filled with a camel colored liquid. I scrunched my nose as I tried to decipher what he was giving me. “What is it?” “Coffee!” Mr. Chablis then preceded to laugh at his own joke. A joke I was obviously not privy to because I was unaware of what was supposed to be funny about giving a boy a cup of coffee? Was I the joke. Was my reaction what was funny to him? I shook the thoughts from my head and brought the warm porcelain to my lips. The liquid burned my tongue and esophagus. But I only focused on the flavor. My mouth would heal in about a 3 seconds, but I liked the creamy flavor of this drink. It was a curious blend of bitter and sweet. Mr. Chablis was right. It did put some “pep” in my step. My first class was transfiguration which was Mr. Chablis‘ class. Obviously he is the only instructor who cares if I am late. I arrived in the middle of the girl’s academy instructor teaching how to change the color of roses. “Thank you, for joining us. Just take a flower and sit anywhere. We haven’t started yet, so you are just in time.” Mr. Chablis extended a bucket filled with white roses towards me. I took one with a nod of appreciation to my instructor. The girl who got in my way last night was sitting in a corner all alone. Why was she outside the library so early anyway? The witches came all this way just to see me perform the 7 wonders. Maybe she came to see me. I may as well have a little fun with them while they are here for me, right? I strutted towards her and sat on the floor of the library. My knee gently grazed her thigh as I sat. I expected some sort of reaction of excitement, but she only gave me a small nod acknowledging my presence before turning her attention towards her instructor. Playing hard to get huh? That’s okay, I like cat and mouse. I redirected my attention to the instructor who was twirling her own white rose in her hand. “Today we are going to be changing the color of these roses. It can be any color you like but it must be one solid color. Do not focus too hard on the change or it may change many times, and do not focus to little or the rose will not change at all. Roses are stubborn like that.” She examined her rose and continued. “Try to imagine the rose shifting in your mind and encourage the rose to change.” She extended the rose for everyone to see and smiled as it shifted from white to a deep red. “Now you try.” The girl beside you focused deeply on her rose. Quicker than anyone else’s it shifted to a warm yellow. I looked at the white rose in my hand. It was the color of innocence and purity. I imagined it becoming tainted with my energy. The petals turned to a deep red before shifting quickly to black before the petals fell and turned to ash as they hit the ground. There were several cheers from my schoolmates who were struggling to change the color of their own roses. “Ms. Benson, He didn’t follow instructions.” It was a girl’s voice from beside me. I leaned in to whisper into her ear playfully. “Tattle tale.” Her ears and cheeks began turning red from my small action. Cute. The instructor came towards us and smiled softly.

“No, you did the task right. You only put too much into it. Remember that the flower is stubborn but also precious. Think about something precious to you, something that you wouldn’t want to hurt with your magic and try again.” 

            She handed me a new rose and just like before it turned deep red, then black, then the petals fell and turned to ash when they hit the floor. I cracked my neck in frustration and tried again with the same result. Why couldn’t I do this? My vision began to blur and I felt the familiar drip of blood from my nose. I was wasting too much energy on this. Suddenly, the rose in my hand burst into flames resulting in shocked gasps from the others in the room. Not beside me though, I felt a friendly hand soothing the tension on my shoulder. “It’s okay, you don’t have anything to prove.” That’s where she is wrong. I was fading into my subconscious, but her one stupid fucking comment grounded me into reality. I grabbed the front of her jacket and pulled her up so that she was eye level with me. “You don’t fucking know me.” In one swift motion I released her and stood. I then wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve and left the library.

******************************************************

        I adjusted my uniform as he left. “Damn…Wonder boy is touchy.” One of the girls from Robichaux’s spoke. Her name is Coco. I didn’t know her personally but when we took lessons together she seemed nice. “Are you okay, (y/n)? That was a real dick move.” I nodded as Coco tried to comfort me. I felt overwhelmed and dizzy. Suddenly my vision began to blur and I fell to the floor. The last thing I saw was Ms. Benson’s face as she cleared space for me to breathe. 

        I woke up in a small infirmary with Ms. Benson placing a cold wet rag onto my forehead. She gasped and called the attention to someone else in the room. “Cordelia! She’s awake.” The face of my supreme came into view and she elegantly took a seat at the foot of my recovery bed. “Are you alright, (y/n)?” I nodded slowly as I sat up in the bed. my muscles ached as I moved. I must have been laying in one spot for a long time. “I need you to be very honest with me. Did Michael do this to you?” Her voice was grave. I enthusiastically shook my head. “No! I just fainted. He yelled at me, but he didn’t do anything. I didn’t sleep last night and I’ve been practicing so much. I think I am just exhausted and fainted..” Cordelia nodded in understanding and began petting my head in a motherly display of affection. “Why do you ask? Is he in trouble?” Cordelia and Ms Benson looked to each other silently before Ms benson answered. “He has been banned from performing the 7 wonders because of what we thought he did to you.” I sprung up so quickly that my head flooded and fell back onto the pillow. “You have to tell him he can perform them again! How long have I been asleep?” Ms. Benson patted my forehead with the cold rag and nodded. “You have only been asleep a couple of days. It was a temporary ban until you woke to tell us what happened.” 

        I rose slowly this time. “I have to tell him I’m sorry…” Cordelia and Ms. Benson helped me up. “Would you rather one of us did it?” Cordelia offered gently. I shook my head now able to stand on my own two feet. I need to know where he is.-“ “- I can show you to his room.” William Banks was standing in the doorway.  With a small bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.

[nerdy-talks]

I agree with your opinion and thoughts about Solomon and him asking us to side with humanity... I love solomon, and his ideas and priorities are admirable, really! But I'm pretty sure his ways of execution to reach those ideals and fulfill his goals, for humanity to be seen as a race worthy to be seen as an equal, isn't the only plausible way.

Not to mention that humanity can still be seen as a strong race without us having to hover at each other's throats and without instigating into an all out war. We can still reach a middle ground through our peaceful and understanding approach. Like us giving the grimoire to Lucifer, man was seething at Mc out of worry and fear for his brothers, which was completely understandable, but us handing out the grimoire could possibly give us brownie points into regaining Lucifer's trust back. I'm pretty the MC isn't THAT stupid.

So maybe the MC's approach through peace and trust is better than any of other race's approach, which is guided by their own power, biases, prejudice and preconceived notions, etc...

And sure let's say that Solomon is 100% on our side, the way he acts with us sometimes could really tip off our perspective towards him from good to bad and vice versa. And this man has the balls to warn us about time paradoxes and shi when he chose to make a pact with Asmodeus early than supposed to... you're the strongest sorcerer... just use ur powers to kill the spider bro or summon Barbatos instead early on instead💀 (Lesson 7?)

I apologize for my late response, precious anon! Yesterday was a little hectic, so I didn't see your ask until now ^^"

But I have a LOT to say, so hopefully this long-winded reply makes up for the delay lol

Let me start by saying that I genuinely appreciate your insight and I also agree with you 100%

I feel like there's still so much that hasn't been revealed to us yet, especially regarding Solomon's past. I've already given my own theories thus far, but I am particularly curious why Solomon thinks that war is even a viable option. What makes him feel this way? What exactly caused the last war he fought pretty much on his own?

Potential Spoilers

What I do find interesting is the information we have been given, though.

In 9-A, some of those prejudices and biases are shown when Solomon ends up in what is clearly an illusion of sorts.

And personally... I would absolutely love to debate and counter all of these assumptions and misjudgments.

In comparison to demons and angels... humans may be more prone to illness, injuries, and death. But that's literally what makes us human.

Despite this, I argue that it does not make humans fragile or weak. We are resilient. We rebound and recover from all sorts of terrible experiences. We survive and overcome trauma. We suffer loss yet do our best to keep our heads up. We fight and push forward through life. We may be human, but we are not to be pitied or underestimated.

I also argue the point of humans needing angels to "protect" us. Yes, there are humans who believe in guardian angels because that is what many of us were taught growing up. Humans want to believe in an afterlife, of a peaceful paradise after this life.

But what about humans who don't share those same beliefs? What about tragic events that occur every day where humans end up dying through no fault of their own? What about humans who feel as though God has forsaken them for whatever reason, whether it be due to illness, loss, or other unfortunate circumstances that have negatively impacted them? For those humans, it seems like no angel is looking out for them or "protecting" them.

My first argument to this mindset : What could a demon possibly understand about a human's path in life? That's like us telling Diavolo how to run the Devildom. It's a topic we are completely ignorant of, therefore we have no business calling the shots.

Not only that, but every single human being is different and unique in their own way. While one path may be good for one person, it may be detrimental for the next person. Also.... I believe that sometimes, humans need to lose their way in order to grow and become wiser.

Speaking from personal experience, I became "lost" more than once to the point where I used to cry and wish that it was possible for someone to come save me from the pain I was experiencing at that moment in time. But even if a demon magically appeared and offered to lead me someplace where I'd be able to find happiness... I would be highly skeptical. What is their definition of "happy"? How do they know I even have a chance at finding happiness? Where exactly would they be leading me? What would they want in return?

For argument's sake, I will admit that I may take a demon up on that offer even now. But it would be out of pure curiosity, not because I actually think I'd be able to find happiness. Which leads me to my next point : demons deceive humans with sweet words in order to drag them into the darkness

I have heard this saying and similar ones numerous times before (Luke even said something along the lines of demons using honeyed words to get others to do their bidding), and I feel like it is perfectly accurate in this scenario too.

Diavolo would be promising a lost, confused, and more than likely desperate human the chance to be happy, and all they would have to do is follow him to some unknown place. Seems way too good to be true, in my opinion.

So that's not "helping" humans.... That's confusing them even more and leading them further away from their path in life (at least within the Human World, since it sounds like Diavolo would take them to the Devildom/Hell. Though I'm just speculating there)

Then in 10-A, it is revealed that this illusion was conjured up by "Nightbringer".

Side note : since this is where Barbatos sent Solomon when he teleported him, it makes me question if Barbatos has connections to Nightbringer... or is somehow Nightbringer himself?

Either way, I found this question interesting :

Solomon is convinced that we share his beliefs and viewpoints, that we'll agree with him and help him fight for the sake of humanity despite saying that he is "not trying to make an enemy" out of either demons or angels .... Which as Nightbringer pointed out, is an awfully overconfident statement to make.

I found this both interesting as well as funny.

Solomon is against demons and angels judging humans, yet he is acting like he knows us inside and out. Don't get me wrong, I love Solomon too. But isn't that a bit hypocritical?

He may have a very close connection/relationship to us, but he obviously doesn't know our heart well enough if he honestly believes that we would turn our back on the brothers and support the idea of a war against them.

As you pointed out, anon... Solomon's delusions beliefs definitely tip the scales when it comes to us wondering if he's genuinely on our side or if he has some kind of hidden agenda that he needs our cooperation with in order for it to come to fruition.

And I absolutely agree with you! I don't know if Solomon has become senile in his old age or what, but he really went out of his way to warn us about the dangers of potentially altering the present if we do or say anything untoward.... Yet he goes and makes a pact with Asmo WAY sooner than he was supposed to. Uh, Solomon? What's with the double standards, buddy?

I really hate to say this, but it honestly does make me question if he used the whole "time paradox" spiel as an excuse to precipitate a conflict with Diavolo, Lucifer, and the others... Because Solomon must have known that if any of them found out MC was lying to them or keeping secrets from them, they would react accordingly (and yes, understandably so).

The latter was pretty much proven already, considering Solomon arrived right on time to save MC from Belphie once the brothers found out MC is actually human, then immediately proceeded to take them to a place where he thought they would be safe. It almost seems like it was planned from the start, if you ask me.

Another side note : And let's not forget where Solomon brought us. He was conveniently in reach of a grimoire that could successfully control Lucifer. Who has been wanting to make a pact with Lucifer for a very long time? Solomon. So I'm curious to know if Solomon did indeed plan all of this. If not to start a war, then maybe to try to force a pact with Lucifer? Because Solomon obviously knew that Lucifer was going to pursue MC and himself, hence why he brought MC to the Reaper's Cave (to get a bargaining chip... AKA the grimoire)

Side Note Number 3 : I find it especially interesting that the brothers threatened Solomon to bring MC back safe and sound. Is that because they suspect he might be up to something, too? Maybe they're worried that Solomon may try to use this opportunity to appeal to MC and have them side with him to escalate a war in the past, and that's why they basically used the promise of bodily dismemberment if he doesn't return with MC in the same condition they both left in.

Anyway, onto the next very important part :

I firmly believe the peaceful and understanding approach is the absolute best way to prove that humans are just as formidable as demons and angels.

My main reason for this belief is in regards to something Lucifer said :

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

MC knows the brothers better than anyone else. I'd even argue that at this point, MC knows the brothers even better than they know themselves.

MC can reach them in ways they aren't expecting, because MC can use their knowledge of the "present day" boys to properly handle them now. This has been shown numerous times already when MC helped them, encouraging them, and comforted them.

Even when MC gave Satan a few little tidbits about cats, it was a special moment between the two. MC knows that present!Satan loves cats, so they knew past!Satan would instantly be fascinated to learn more. Plus... What better way to quell the Avatar of Wrath's anger than an adorable, fluffy, purring little kitty? ^u^

MC also knew that Lucifer wasn't angry when he cast his spell and was lowkey threatening them. Instead, MC knew Lucifer was scared and worried about his brothers, that he didn't want to risk their safety because of some human who's intentions are currently unknown to him.

But I'm starting to get a little off topic here.... Let me go back to the statement Lucifer made.

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

MC can choose to blindly follow Solomon and side with humanity like he asked them to do, which may potentially lead to a war between humans, demons, and angels.

Or MC can choose to do things their own way.

As I said before, MC knows the brothers better than anyone else. So MC can reason with them and help them understand that MC only wants what is best for them.... Because MC loves them and cares about them (whether that's romantically or in a familial way is up to you, but it still remains true regardless).

And if MC chooses to do things their own way, which I predict is what will happen especially after the whole grimoire incident.... if that choice means that MC will have to go through a series of trials and tribulations, overcome obstacles and hurdles, and use every ounce of energy and effort to find common ground between the three worlds while avoiding war at all costs.... Isn't that the perfect way to prove just how strong, driven, tenacious, and capable humans are?

MC can open the eyes of both angels and demons to exactly what they, a human, can accomplish through sheer determination and willpower.

It can also be a wonderful opportunity to show both Simeon (an angel) and Lucifer (a demon) that MC (a human) is able to accomplish what neither of them did.

It was my own decision that precipitated the war.

Lucifer made choices that resulted in war. MC can make choices to avoid a war.

Simeon regrets not speaking up back then, not reaching out and actively trying to get through to Lucifer. MC can do the opposite. MC can push and fight to prove their loyalty and dedication to the brothers, they can strive to enrich everyone's lives in a peaceful and nurturing way.

Knowing those two, I am absolutely positive that MC will unequivocally earn their respect this way if they choose this path. And if so... Not so weak and fragile after all, eh Simeon?~ ;D

Most importantly :

If MC makes their own choice to deliberately avoid a war/conflict because of their genuine love for the brothers, it will prove that being a human, demon, or angel is completely irrelevant when there is a mutual level of respect and understanding between two (or more) individuals.

Because let's face it.... We all know every one of the brothers is weak for us and will support us in any way they can. Even Mr. GrumpyPants Lucifer has a major soft spot for us. We just need to work towards rebuilding our relationships, strengthening our bonds, and reforging our pacts with them in this timeline.

But I'm sure MC will accomplish that, in their own way, on their own terms ^ᴗ^

[banannabethchase]

I feel I'm rubbish at these, cos I don't give prompts, it's more a collection of words like "HangMatt, with lingerie maybe" *shrug emoji* 😉 Oooooh! Would you ever consider more details on the Hangman Matt experiments?? 🥺

Look So Good Underneath Me - also on AO3

~

Adam decides to try a new one of his experiments with Matt, and decides on pink panties. It backfires. Deliciously.

~

Jules I need you to be aware that this is ENTIRELY your fault. This prompt isn't rubbish, it's pure GOLD. Thank you! Title from Pink G-String by Scene Queen.

~

“I have a present for you,” Adam says once Matt picks up the phone. He lights up immediately.

“A present?” he asks. “What kind? Can I see?”

“Not until Dynamite,” Adam says, fighting his own grin. “You gotta wait.”

Matt huffs. “This is one of your stupid experiments again, isn’t it. Is this like the time you bought me a neon orange butt plug and had me wear it the night we won the six-man tags in Ring of Honor? Is this a throwback?”

Adam throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, my god, no. But we should revisit that. That was good.”

“But it is an experiment,” Matt says, and when Adam turns his eyes back to his phone screen, even FaceTime can’t hide Matt’s interest. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Adam singsongs. “Maybe I just want to get something pretty for my boyfriend.”

“So it’s something pretty!” Matt says, like he solved some sort of puzzle. “Just tell me.”

“Nope,” Adam says. “You have to wait.”

Matt groans, sounding like Adam’s high schoolers would get when he’d tell them they couldn’t skip any more classes or they’d fail. “Is this like the edging thing you did back before the pandemic that backfired?”

Adam frowns. “No. God. Why would you remind me of that disaster?”

“If I’m miserable, you’re miserable,” Matt says, with a grin.

“What a horrible line,” Adam laughs. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you,” Matt clarifies. “But you’re being mean to me so I figured I’d give it back to you.”

“Cute,” Adam says. “Very cute. I wish you were here so I could fuck that smug little smile off of you. I’ll have to wait until Wednesday, though.”

Matt turns pink. “Miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” Adam murmurs. “I’ll see you soon. Two days, okay?”

“Two days,” Matt confirms. “Love you.”

“I love you more.”

Adam hangs up and has to shove his face in a pillow with the stupid, fluffy feeling building in his chest. It’s been months back with Matt, and before that years with and without him, and he still gets all dumb about him.

When he’s finally gotten his shit together and has stopped mooning over his boyfriend, Adam grabs the box he’d ordered and pulls out the pink lacy thong, neon and so flimsy it’s almost pointless.

The sight of it alone, the image of what Matt might look like wearing it, is enough to get him hard. He gets off looking at a photo of Matt, and curling the lacy fabric in his free hand.

~

“Hi!”

Adam turns to see a familiar flurry barreling toward him and leaping into his arms.

“Hey, baby,” he says, hugging Matt close. Matt’s legs around his waist feel like home. “It’s only been a couple days, you really miss me that much?”

“Uh-huh,” Matt says, burying his face into Adam’s neck. He sighs. “Plus you did the teasy thing again with the present, and now that I see you, I know I’m gonna get it.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get it alright,” Adam says, sliding his hand up Matt’s thigh.

“For the love of god, not in the airport.”

Adam brushes some of Matt’s hair out of the way. “Oh! Hi, Nick.”

“Hey,” Nick nods. “Can you put my brother down, please?”

Matt lets out a long suffering sigh as he slides down Adam’s body to the floor. “You ruin the fun, Nicky.”

“I ruin the public indecency charges.” Nick hits Matt in the back with his own backpack. “Grab your stuff so we can all get to the hotel and I can have some peace away from you two heathens.”

“Heathens, schmeathens,” Matt says, rolling his eyes as he grabs his backpack and Adam’s hand. “I’m not the one who was checking out Billy Gunn’s ass last week.”

“Really!” Adam says. “Nick, do you have a thing for Billy?”

“Shut up, Matt,” Nick grumbles. He won’t meet Adam’s eyes. “Matt, you said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s Adam,” Matt says, like the name alone gives context. “You know. We tell him everything.”

“You tell him everything,” Nick corrects, shaking his head with a little smile on his face. “I try to keep a little mystery going.”

~

It’s a whirlwind to get back to the hotel, and they end up with less time than Adam had hoped to get ready. He’s in the middle of unpacking when Matt shuffles past him with his carryon thrown over his shoulder. Always the performer.

“You know you don’t have to show off the biceps all the time for me to think you’re hot, right?”

Matt throws a grin over his shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s fun.” He unzips his bag, and Adam is…concerned.

“Oh,” Adam says, blinking. “The white gear.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, taking the white gear and putting it carefully into his venue bag. “I thought you like the white gear.”

Adam bites his lip. “Oh, I do. I definitely do. I just, uh,” he turns around to go to his checked luggage, and pulls out the poorly wrapped gift. “Here. Open it.”

Matt’s brow furrows. “Oh, I know what this is.”

“You do?” Adam asks. “How?”

Matt locks his eyes on Adam’s as he rips it open, pulls out the box, and pulls out the panties. “Because you’re predictable, Adam.” He grins. “You’ve always liked me in pink.”

“Okay, see, but who wouldn’t?” He crowds into Matt’s space until Matt’s back hits the wall. He brushes some of Matt’s hair over his shoulder, careful to graze his fingers against Matt’s neck, just to make his shiver. He leans in, lips at Matt’s ear. “You look so good in it.”

Matt exhales. “Why are you doing this to me when we have to be at the venue in twenty minutes?” he whispers.

“Because I like it when you get riled up.”

Matt laughs. “So predictable.” But he’s breathing a little heavily, his eyes are a little blown, and he can’t stop looking at Adam’s mouth. “I – do you want me to wear this under my gear? Because, well, Nick and I thought white gear because it goes with everything, but we also brought something else.” Matt steps away from Adam and reaches into his bag.

“The purple and black and white would definitely make it harder to see the thong through the clothes.” Adam licks his lips. “Then it’s just you and me who know. Maybe I’ll snap at it a little during the match, just to remind you.”

“Okay, seriously, this is just mean,” Matt says, and he folds his arms across his chest. “You better get me really good after Rampage. I don’t care how tired I am.”

Adam tilts his head. “I – what?”

“You heard me,” Matt says, sliding a leg between Adam’s. “You’re gonna rail me so hard after tonight’s match, when we win those belts back, it’ll be like we’re back in our Ring of Honor days.”

Adam blinks. “That might be the most dominant you’ve ever been, and it’s begging me to fuck you. You’re an enigma, baby.”

Matt is snippy and on edge the whole night, and Adam fights the urge to laugh when Kenny says, “Jesus, what crawled up your ass.” Matt huffs and glares at Adam.

“Are you two in a fight?” Nick asks. “Because if you two are in a fight, I’ll be forced to kill you if we don’t win tonight. I don’t want to commit murder.”

“We’re not fighting,” Adam says, and his expression is apparently not blank enough because Nick groans.

“Jesus, you two,” but at least he’s laughing. “Don’t even tell me. Just,” he turns to Matt, “be normal for the match.”

“I am normal!”

“Are not.”

“Are too!”

“Okay,” Adam says, stepping between the two of them before they get each other riled up in the bad way. “Why don’t we all get back to the locker room and start getting ready, yeah?”

“I’ll see you three later,” Kenny says, eyes not leaving the screen next to Tony. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

It’s early to get ready, with Rampage just starting, but Adam would rather Nick and Matt be bitchy in private than to gather an audience.

“I don’t know why I got dragged in here,” Nick says, rolling his eyes.

“Because Matt’s bitchy and you were goading him,” Adam explains.

“Yeah, Nick –”

“Nope,” Adam says, shoving him into a chair. “Not on your side, baby.” He takes the moment to loom over Matt, who goes all giant eyed and soft. He adds the next sentence in a whisper. “Be good.”

Matt nods. “Okay.”

“I’d say teach me how to do that,” Nick says, flopping into a chair, “but I think that would be gross.”

Adam laughs. “No shit, Sherlock.”

They watch the rest of the show as they slowly pull their gear on. Nick is rambling about shoes while Matt stays extremely close to Adam.

“Matt, I’m not gonna fuck you until after the match,” Adam murmurs, disguising it with a kiss to Matt’s temple.

“Why not?”

“We have, like, twenty minutes before we have to be at gorilla.”

Matt gets this little smile on his face. “Well –”

“No!” Adam laughs. He falls onto the couch next to Matt and grabs him around the waist. “God, you’re the worst.”

“You both suck pretty bad right now,” says Nick, but he’s smiling down at his phone, so Adam thinks it’s not too bad. He resists the urge to ask if it’s Billy.

“I gotta go put on my gear,” Matt says, and he winks at Adam. When he gets his things out of his bag, Adam feels a shiver run up his spine when he spots a hint of neon pink. From where he’s bent over, Matt flashes him a grin that makes Adam rock hard in seconds.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he realizes far later than he should have that, as much as this experiment messes with Matt, it’ll mess with him, too.

~

Adam thinks the universe is an absolute dickwad by sending Swerve out in the middle of his match with Matt. He’s able to focus when he gets flashes of pink, so slight and so infrequently he’s sure no one else can see it. But it powers him, and it focuses him, and it reminds him why he’s here.

He catches the pink in the corner of his eye right before he pins Cage.

“We did it!” Matt says, breathless and grinning, belt in his hands as he walks backstage. “We won!”

“We did,” Adam laughs, and he’s not doing the best job of staying in the moment, stuck on Swerve and what he might do next. “Holy shit, we did.”

“Hey,” Matt says firmly. “Focus on right now.” He raises his belt and bumps it with Adam’s, and it feels like a promise. “We did it.”

Nick barrels in. “Not to interrupt the love fest, but Hung Bucks champs for life!” He throws his arms around the both of them, and they stumble their way into a wall. Adam’s happy, the kind of soul expanding, deep, long term happy he only feels around Matt, around Nick, around his friends.

The way he used to feel around the Dark Order. But he’s going to listen to Matt. And he’ll focus on right now.

Still tangled with both Bucks, Adam pulls back a little and grins, locking eyes with Matt as he slides his hand down Matt’s back, just under the hem of his pants, and snaps the waistband of the panties.

Matt looks deliciously scandalized, the pink across his cheeks and the smile making it very clear where his mind went.

“Okay,” Nick laughs. “Let’s get backstage to the –”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Tony practically stomps over to them. “I need you two – not you, Adam, unless you want to, I guess – to help coordinate Ubers and Lyfts for some of the talent.”

 Matt blinks. “Why?”

“Because it’s much later than we usually wrap up Rampage and it feels like, I don’t know, wrong to have everybody just try their best to find a ride back to the hotel when it’s past midnight.” He wrinkles his nose. “And I have to talk to the owner of this place about how, no, the blood isn’t going to bring a bad reputation to the place.” He gives Nick a look. “Unless you want to do the political work.”

“I will begin setting up Uber and Lyft rides as long as you never threaten me with politics again,” Nick says. “Come on you, two. Adam, you can talk on a phone, right?”

“Literally no,” Adam says. “Like, anxious millennial is my whole vibe.”

“Deal with it,” Nick says, and he grabs Adam and Matt by the wrists and yanks them over to a quieter space.

Adam makes so many phone calls. So many. Matt, next to him, is chattering away with a big smile, and the tiny hint of pink peeking out from the back of his pants is enough to make Adam’s brain fry.

They go on like this for twenty full minutes, call after call to coordinate between people. The worst is giving specific Uber and Lyft codes out to talent until they can barely read numbers, until Tony comes back from his meeting with a smile.

“You three,” he says, pointing to them, “are godsends. The owner of this place figured out what was happening and thought that we could use that to combat any blood related PR for the night, so no more worries about the way things look.” He exhales. “Go back to the locker rooms, get ready to go. They’re giving us an extra forty-five minutes to clean up and give you time to get yourselves together.”

“Great,” Adam says, blood suddenly no longer in his head. “Wonderful.”

“I’m heading back to the hotel now,” Nick says, typing on his phone. “I can shower there. I’m beat.”

Adam laughs, almost accidentally. “Come on, Matty, let’s go clean up.”

Nick goes with them to get his gear, and Adam’s so hard he’s getting dizzy. Matt can’t even know how the way he bends over flashes the tiniest hint of pink every time, how Adam can tell, through the pants, Matt’s in a thong that Adam bought for him. For some ungodly reason, Matt pulls on a tee shirt. A shirt. He’s covering up that perfect body more.

Adam feels like a dick, but he tries to silently will Nick to pack faster.

Matt yawns a little, stretching enough to reveal another flash of pink, and Adam snaps.

“Nick,” he says, voice sounding tight. “Need help packing?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Nick says. He throws his bag over his shoulder. “You guys wanna get Denny’s or something?”

Matt opens his mouth, but Adam barrels over him. “Nah, we’re good.” He shoots Matt a look that he hopes conveys ‘stop talking so I can fuck you into oblivion.’ “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Nick narrows his eyes, studying Adam’s face, and Adam tries to stay as neutral as possible. “If you end up on the news tomorrow for whatever this,” he waves his hand, “energy is, I’m not bailing you out.”

“Deal,” Adam says. “Fine. See you tomorrow. Love you. Bye.”

Nick’s still laughing as the door swings shut behind him.

“What is up with –”

Adam doesn’t give Matt the time to speak. He collides with Matt, grabbing at his shirt, ripping it at the hem at his haste to get it off.

“Mine,” he growls against Math’s mouth as he kisses him.

“Oh!” Matt yelps. “Oh, yes, love this.”

Adam shoves Matt against the wall, leaning in to suck a bruise into Matt’s neck, down his shoulder. Matt hums into it.

“I kind of liked that shirt,” he pants. “You ripped it.”

“Yeah?” Adam asks. He grabs at Matt’s thighs and lifts him. “Deal with it, baby, I’m gonna wreck a lot more.”

Matt lets out this delighted, high pitched little whine. “God, took you long enough.”

Adam drops Matt on the massage table, scrabbling at the waistband of Matt’s gear pants. He grabs Matt’s hand and pins it to he massage table when he tries to help, and Matt exhales.

“God, yes,” Matt exhales. “I love it when you get this way.”

“You in those fuckin’ panties,” Adam grumbles, roughly yanking Matt’s gear pants down. He lets go of Matt’s hand, needing an assist, and Matt reaches above his head to grab at the top of the table.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, lifting his hips so Adam can yank the pants down. “You like them a lot?”

“I can’t stand them,” Adam says, and he doesn’t even take the time to take the panties off. He leans in, mouths at Matt’s dick through the lace, and the whine that comes out of Matt is almost enough to make Adam come in his pants.

“Adam,” Matt gasps. “Oh – take ‘em off, now, I need you to fuck me immediately.”

Adam pulls back, grinning. “Did you just swear?”

Matt pushes up on his elbows. “Did you just stop?”

“Fair point.” Adam pulls back and locks his eyes on Matt as he walks back to the bags.

“Why are you leaving?” Matt asks, breathing so hard Adam can see the movement. “Come back.”

“Gotta get lube, baby,” Adam says, grinning. He slides his hand in his bag, and it’s right in the front pocket, in the ziplock one quart baggie that made the TSA agent blush. He flicks the bottle open with one thumb, and Matt drops back with a thud against the massage table.

Adam gets back to Matt and unbuckles his pants as fast as he can, his cock springing from his boxers when he shoves them down his hips. It’s almost a relief. He grabs Matt’s legs, yanking him half off the table.

“Yes,” Matt says. “Yes, now, anything.”

Adam laughs, and it sounds a little dark to his own ears. “Slow down baby, we gotta get you nice and open first.”

Matt whines, one of Adam’s favorite sounds, and throws his legs over Adam’s shoulders without another request. Adam presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. “I gotta take these off first.”

“Okay,” Matt says, but Adam stops him before he moves his legs. Adam leans in and carefully grabs the band around Matt’s thighs with his teeth, dragging them down a thigh. It’s harder than he would have expected, but with a little help from his hands, the panties are gone. He shifts, ducking so he can yank them off and throw them somewhere in the room.

“You have no idea how hot that was,” Matt pants. “Get in me.”

“Hold on,” Adam laughs, turning to bite at the soft skin of Matt’s thigh. He drips lube on his fingers and watches, rapt, as he traces Matt’s hole for a second, listening to Matt’s pained whimpers.

“Adam, please.” He sounds like he’s near to tears. “I can’t wait any more. Please.”

Adam slides a finger inside of Matt, and it’s so easy, like he’s made to fit inside of Matt. Matt exhales and his body relaxes.

“Not enough,” he gasps, “but better.”

Adam grins as he works in another finger, Matt pleading for more as each twist of his fingers presses up against his prostate. With the third, Matt’s heels press into Adam’s shoulders so firmly Adam’s pretty sure there will be a mark.

“I’m ready, and you know it,” Matt bitches. “I want it now.”

Adam drops Matt down, grip iron on Matt’s thighs, until he’s at the right angle. Like this, he can pull Matt down on his dick, the leverage so perfect it feels impossible.

“Oh, god, yes,” Matt groans. “That’s – holy fuck.”

“Two fucks in one night,” Adam quips, finally clearheaded now that his dick is buried in Matt, “what a surprise.”

“I could go for two in one night,” Matt says, and he uses those obscene biceps and a grip on the table to fuck himself on Adam’s dick. “Back at the hotel?”

“Focus on getting railed right now, Matthew, Jesus,” Adam laughs, but he can’t stop smiling. It’s been years since they started doing this, months since they fell back together, and it’s still this good. He still can’t get enough of Matt’s attempts to keep a conversation going, of the way Matt yanks him down for a kiss, the way he’ll grab at Adam’s hand even when it’s impossible to hold hands.

“I love you,” Adam says, “just wanna make sure you know.”

“I know,” Matt says, eyes fluttering closed as Adam adjusts the pace and the angle. “I – know, Adam, I love you too. I wanna come soon, please?”

“You asking permission now?” Adam chuckles. “That something you might wanna try? Me saying no?”

“Not today, but yes,” Matt says. He’s got his teeth sunk down in that pretty pink lip of his, and Adam has to lean in and kiss it, just for the moment. He taps Matt’s leg to make sure he hooks it right around Adam’s waist, then moves his hand, still slick, to wrap around Matt’s cock. Matt whimpers when Adam keeps his grip lose and not quite what he wanted. He was tortured earlier with knowing all of this was covered in pretty pink. Matt can get a little teasing too. Only, he realizes, as he loosens his grip even further, now he’s thinking about those panties, and what Matt would look like in another pair, and his brain is flames again.

“Matt,” Adam laughs, a bit delirious, “fuck, I think this experiment backfired.”

“I disagree,” and he sounds far too put together. Adam picks up the pace of both his hand and his thrusts. “I – oh my god, right like that – think it proved that I look good in panties, right?”

“Yeah, of course you do. But I think it fucked with me more than it fucked with you.” He digs his fingers into Matt’s thighs, tightens his grip on Matt’s cock. “God, I want to be inside you all the time. Next time I’m fucking you with the panties on.”

“Yes,” Matt whines. “Yeah, get – get me all kinds of colors, rip ‘em off me.”

Adam isn’t used to feeling this, like he needs to fuck Matt and won’t settle until he does, like being hilt deep in the man is the only thing that will keep him stable. He may have accidentally edged himself, which he didn’t realize was possible to do. “Anything,” he growls in Matt’s ear, and he bites at Matt’s thigh. Matt gasps.

“If me in undies does this to you, I should have gotten some sooner,” Matt laughs breathlessly. But the laughter fades quickly as Adam fucks into him like his life depends on it. “I – just like – this is different – don’t you dare change anything or I’ll – yes!” Matt comes spectacularly, so emphatically it gets up on Adam’s chin, and it’s enough to make Adam’s head spin with how he’s the one who made this happen. He’s the one who gets to see Matt like this, who gets to fuck him, who gets to love him, who gets every perfect and messy piece of him.

When he comes, he wonders if he’s allow to start thinking about proposing again.

“Jesus,” Adam says, exhaling as he pushes Matt back up the massage table. He drops his elbows down on the massage table, dropping his forehead on Matt’s messy belly.

Matt laughs, hands sliding into Adam’s hair, gently stroking. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m glad we have our own room. Think how weird it would have been to do it in the locker room when anyone could walk in.”

Adam raises his head. “You say weird, but I think you mean hot.”

“Of course I mean hot, but I’m trying to be a normal person.”

“Nope,” Adam says, and he presses a kiss right above Matt’s belly button. “Not allowed to be normal. If you were normal, you wouldn’t be Matt.”

They kiss and touch and gently wash in their private shower. Adam shares his shampoo with Matt and tries not to think of how it’ll make Matt smell like him, how it’ll make everything that much more difficult for him to manage knowing Matt feels even more like his.

They stumble out of the showers naked, drying off together, and dress with the slowest hands and most wandering eyes.

Adam thinks they’re in the clear, for once. Most of the roster is long gone, Nick’s at the hotel. Tony’s probably packing up. They might have time to waste. He and Matt are giggling at each other, hands all over each other like they’re in high school behind bleachers, packing up their stuff, when the door swings open.

“Any of you EVP guys got a – the fuck is that?”

“Is what?” Matt asks, and his expression is so clearly feigning innocence that it’s almost embarrassing.

Mox laughs, nodding to the corner of the locker room by the showers. “I bet those are yours, Jackson. You always look so good in pink.”

Adam’s and Matt’s heads snap over to – yup. Matt’s panties are still in the corner.

“Oh,” Matt says, biting his lip. He looks over to Mox, and Adam can see the way he steels himself. “Yeah, they are. And I do look good in them. You’re right about something.”

Adam thinks his own astonishment is reflected by Mox’s face. “Oh,” Mox says. “Okay. Yeah, didn’t see you admitting to it so easily. Damn.” He scans Matt’s body, then his gaze flickers to Adam. “You ever want a third, you got my number.”

“What?” Adam asks. “I thought you hated me.”

Mox laughs so hard and for so long it gives Matt the time to grab the panties from the corner of the room and stuff them back in his venue bag. “Oh, dude, no.” He shakes his head. “You think I would put myself in the position to get my hands all over the two of you in matches because I hate you?” He chuckles, almost condescending. “Jesus, you’re stupid. I love it.”

“What did you even come in here for?” Matt asks, planting his hands on his hips. He’s got a that little blush back, high on his cheeks. Adam knows what that means.

“I figured one of you two would have a phone charger.” He wiggles a gigantic brick in his hand. “Only room in the building with a light still behind it.”

Matt scoffs. “I have a charger, but maybe not for something that ancient.”

“It’s got a lightning plug!”

Adam snorts. “Sounds like a butt plug brand.”

“That is not a butt plug brand,” Mox says, at the same time Matt goes, “I’d buy from them.”

Adam watches the two of them lock eyes, and that blush rises up Matt’s cheeks even deeper red. But, Adam notes, it’s matched by one on Mox’s cheeks. “Okay, well, if you two are done eye fucking, we can find you a charger.” Adam decides to keep the idea that just popped into his head safe for later, when he and Matt are alone.

“We weren’t – we didn’t –” Matt looks over at Adam, panicked, but settles at Adam’s grin.

“Yeah, we were, baby doll, and I think he liked it.” Mox winks at Matt, then Adam. “So. Where’s that charger?”

~

Mini Playlist:

Pink G-String - Scene Queen

Thong Song - Sisqo

Do Me - Kim Petras

3 - Britney Spears

[valaruakars]

Wreathe Me in Darkness, My Earthly Flesh and Blood (1/4)

Viktor/F!Reader || 4.6k || Historical Vampire AU || NSFW || AO3 Link

“On an evening just after the autumn equinox, a fire lit to warm and brighten the study, you shake his cold, bony hand and make the acquaintance of Viktor.”  Alternatively: In the early years of your long, long life, you unwittingly fall for a vampire.

Warnings: Stalking mention, jealousy, non-consensual vampirism, so much blood, near death experience, implied murder, teacher/student dynamic, masturbation, vampire spit but make it a mind-numbing aphrodisiac, fingering, dacryphilia if you squint, he’s not evil but he’s not good either, “nausea inducing but in a pussyclenching way” - tumblr user @weltraum-vaquero

Mind! Those! Warnings! Anyways, here’s what I started last week for Halloween and then got too carried away with to keep as a oneshot. Never been known for brevity, sorry. Y’all are gonna have questions, and there will eventually be answers, don’t worry. As always, thanks to the babygirl gang for encouraging me to get fucked up with it for fun 🖤

The year is 1903, you are yet still young, and a small tragedy befalls your household.

One day your hale and healthy tutor is sitting with you in the study, inking corrections onto your arithmetic, though it needs very few. The next, a courier is on the steps of your rowhouse, and you are intercepting a letter from him—no, wait. From his family, actually.

You learn that when you open it. You also learn that he has passed away.

People talk, of course. You listen. And so you come to hear that a man was mauled by an animal in the park across town on that very same night. But it couldn’t be him, right? He was older and did not live in that direction. The letter made it sound so peaceful a departure. You imagined him passing in his sleep. It couldn’t be him.

Out of respect, a week passes and you languish with the literature he left you. Your studies are important and you are lucky to have them, even if they happen at home and not in some great, mahogany lecture hall. That doesn’t stop you from watching out your pretty window as the local boys come and go from the university, your face dark with envy. A week is too long to read and read with no instruction. Who will you discuss The Picture of Dorian Gray with while it remains fresh in your mind? Should you not be honoring his memory by finding a new tutor posthaste?

You bring it up at dinner that night. You get what you want easily. Even better, your new tutor is found quite quickly.

And thus, on an evening just after the autumn equinox, a fire lit to warm and brighten the study, you shake his cold, bony hand and make the acquaintance of Viktor.

Just Viktor.

He’s not very tall, hollow in the face, and walks with a pronounced limp. He cannot be much older than you, but he exudes an intelligence beyond his years. An old soul, the housekeeper said. His eyes are startlingly sharp, so bright a brown you could really call them amber, honey, or high karat gold. Any of those, certainly, but beautiful suits best. They are his most magnetic feature, aside from the weapon that is his voice. He could use it to have you do anything, surely, but he mostly uses it to correct your pronunciation when you study French or to scold you when your mind drifts reading bone dry Tolstoy. 

He comes in the dark and leaves in the dark, and after the first time you make him laugh hard enough to see that one of his canines is both crooked and freakishly pointy, you wish he’d stay longer.

He’s familiar, somehow. Night after night you can’t place it. Can’t even tell what exactly is familiar about him. But how could you?

You didn’t know, yet, that he’d been watching you.

It would be a long time before you knew that.

Years.

They pass quickly, in the spring of your life. But the springs and summers themselves pass without Viktor. So much sunlight, and yet they become the darkest part of your year, when he returns to Prague. Frankly, you don’t understand why he ever leaves. It’s beautiful, from the few pictures you’ve seen and the way he’s described it. You wish he’d write, or perhaps send you a small postcard. He never does, that first year he departs and leaves you in the hands of a boring, retired headmaster for those six long months. You check the mail every day and receive nothing but a formal, dispassionate notice that come October he intends to return to his post. No return address.

When he does, it’s as if he never left. He tucks himself up to the old oak table in front of the fireplace, just across from you, and it’s much like opening a bookmarked page. For a moment, lost to excitement, you feel brave enough to ask him personal questions. He does not like personal questions. He considers them a breach of formality between teacher and pupil. But emboldened, you finally ask what prevents him from starting your sessions earlier. Surely your family could afford more of his time? That’s all you want. You enjoy these lessons so.

He smiles. It’s a thin-lipped thing, but always sincere when you earn one. “I spend my days at the University. There is much to be learned here, many advancements in science, that I might take back home and share. I cannot come to you any sooner.”

Your fingers trace the gilt lettering of the book before you. “I like to walk near the school grounds, you know.” The fire is rather warm. You look at it, not at him. “I might wait for you. We might walk together. You might instruct me as we do.”

He laughs at your boldness, but a quiet chuckle. “Unattended? I believe your family would be quite upset.”

“Are we not unattended now?” you counter. And indeed, you are alone with the pocket doors drawn shut to keep out distraction, because Viktor is Viktor and he is no threat to your modesty. So they believe. It’s an utter disservice to him. “You would make a perfectly fit chaperone.”

His hand is cold and soft when it takes yours across the table—takes you by surprise, too. You’re stunned by the warmth of the gesture. “Wait for me here, please,” he asks, and you agree rather bonelessly.

You do not bring it up again. You reach a threshold for bravery you cannot surpass on the very first day of that season. But when the next spring approaches and you grow desperate, you ask if he might write to you. He politely refuses. The spring after that—because once when he looked especially ill, he put his hand on your knee and that certainly meant something, right?—you ask if he might leave a picture for you to pray over for his safe return. You have no higher power to pray to, but he need not know it would go under your pillow or into a locket, in truth. He politely, shyly refuses that too.

The year is suddenly 1908. By the time you’ve spent twenty five years on this earth, and he has come and gone four times, you are properly in love with him. How interesting it is, to love a man you know so little about. But surely, you do.

Which is why it’s a shame that you next turn twenty six and are betrothed by your family to the first man that will take a woman of your age, who is too intelligent for her own good. You’ve grown mouthy, with a thirst for independence that doesn’t befit your station. You’re becoming a burden; have overstayed your welcome in the very home you grew up in. You’ve also sabotaged every courtship attempt you’ve been subjected to in the last few years, one man on your mind, until now the choice has been taken from you. You wanted it back.

More than anything, you wanted Viktor to come back; to fall into his arms and sob; to at least be able to write him a tear stained letter saying this is the last winter you’ll ever spend together. But you had to wait another agonizing month. During it, you found fragile acceptance. This was always to be your fate. Viktor did not want you anyways.

So when he finally shows up to the door on his usual cold, dark evening and the housekeeper escorts him inside, you calmly wait in the study. No tears, no dramatics; just you, standing before the fireplace to greet him. As always, he takes your hand as if to cordially shake it, but something different washes over his face, staring at yours. You didn’t recognize it then, but it was realization. You have one of your own, too, as you stand there and look long at the face of your one-sided friend. Whereas you have matured into your features, his have remained much the same. How jealous he must make people, to age so gracefully. Where did he hide his picture, your Dorian Gray? 

You invite him to sit and get off his feet—to settle into your usual places. And to follow the formula, you ask the same meaningless question you do each and every year: “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

He’s supposed to say yes and promptly move on.

But instead he asks in a tone you’ve never, ever heard before: “What is that?” He’s looking at your hand. He sounds livid, and he’s looking at your hand. The stone perched in platinum upon your finger sparkles faintly in the low light, and you snatch your hand into your lap with a sigh. Suddenly, you do want to cry.

“As of a month ago, I find myself engaged,” you tell him like it’s a dull, passionless fact. Of course, you can’t bring yourself to look at him when you say it.

“…To be married?”

Your laugh is a humorless thing. “Of course, what else could I mean?” Then it occurs to you: “Why is it that you may ask me personal questions, but I may not ask you the same?”

“That is irrelevant,” he snaps, brute forcing the conversation to his strange ends. He reaches forward across the table to take your chin in his hand; to make you look at him. His hand is cold. Always so cold. His voice is softer this time; his thumb strokes across your cheek before he lets go. “Is this what you want?”

Nobody had asked you that. You shake your head no with such vigor that you can feel your hairpins shift against your scalp, fisting your dress white knuckled, but that can’t stop the truth now. “I want my freedom. I want control. I want…” You, but the way he’s looking at you steals that word away.

Who is this dark and wrathful and determined person sitting across from you? The one who says, “I will make it so,” like a promise, as though he has any bearing on the situation?

“How?” you whisper as conspiracy blooms thick in the space between you. “What could you do to prevent this?”

He snatches up his cane and gets to his feet, so resolute that he’s willing to abandon the session when he has never once before. “Give me time.”

And then he is gone. 

—-

You expect to wait, naturally. You’ve had years of practice waiting for him, though it’s different this time. You suddenly can’t predict what will happen; there is no formula to follow. But you’re almost certain, now…

He wants you too.

You dress for bed that night, crawl between the blankets, and spread your legs as if for him. You’ve done it many times. It’s all you’ve ever known. You’re quickly wet enough to slip in two fingers, to fuck yourself on them until you’re panting softly and whispering his name into the darkness. This house is old and solid; you have the only bedroom on the main floor. Nobody will hear.

But there’s footsteps in the hallway. You pause for them to pass, though who would walk this floor at so late an hour? It’s very late, indeed. Only at the last second do you realize that they’re not normal; they’re odd little clusters of three. Why is that familiar?

You withdraw your hand when the sound stops in front of your door. Something is wrong. A chill sweeps your body, and it slowly dawns on you that you are well and truly scared. Terrified as you lie paralyzed and watch the doorknob turn.

But before you see anything, there comes a voice from the shadows. It says, just a whisper: “It’s me. Please do not scream.”

You’d know that accent anywhere. And it’s true, as it has always been true, that Viktor’s voice could get you to do anything. You do not scream, though something deep and primally terrified of the dark says that you should. You simply sit up in bed and beckon him closer in a hurry. It’s not lost on you that he locks the door before he comes to sit on the edge, tenderly taking your bewildered face in his hands. Cold, cold, cold.

“How did you…?”

He shushes you softly and shakes his head. “Tell me again.”

Your lips part, confused, as you study his face so close to yours.

“Tell me again,” he repeats, “why you wish not to be married. The whole of it, please.”

You cannot deny him. It spills from you. “I want my freedom, truly. I have never wanted to be bound to someone else that way, and to be subject to the expectations that come with it. I was never made to be an obedient, maternal homemaker. My greatest love has been learning… with you, Viktor. We hardly spend much time together, and yet it means everything to me.”

For five years—sometimes long, sometimes short—have you wanted his attention like this. If you weren’t already so wet, you would be, with his languid, honeyed stare ticking back and forth from your eyes to your lips. He wets his own and whispers, “Go on.”

“You must know by now that I want you.” He is in your room, on your bed in the middle of the night and you did not scream, after all. It’s why you are suddenly emboldened to finally, finally look him in the eye. To take hold of his bony wrist where it yet cradles your face, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb sweet and slow. To confess: “I’ve loved you for years.”

”Oh, miláčku.…” he murmurs. His breath is faintly metallic, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. But why? It’s only Viktor. “You have yet to learn what love is. You have yet to learn what it is to love me. But I will show you, if that is what you wish.”

”I do,” you agree all too quickly, so scared of losing what you have only just gained. “Of course I do.”

It’s all the invitation he needs to kiss you. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. All that you’ve ever imagined, those slow, tentative, innocent little presses of your lips to his, quiet beneath the crackle of the dying fire. It’s only when your hand fists into his coat, pulling him in for more that the hunger starts to change—to build. You feel it keenly between your legs, a rhythmic throbbing that syncs up to your heart.

It worsens, deliciously, when he slips off his shoes and crawls into bed with you properly. When his kisses turn open-mouthed, and his tongue brushes past your lips. You find the taste of his mouth faintly metallic too and figure: Oh well. If you’re kissing a man with consumption, it’s far too late already. You cannot bring yourself to care about that or much else, the more he licks into your mouth and swallows down your soft, shameless whines. Your head swims thick with only thoughts of how good he makes you feel. When you reach for others—wait, did he ever say he loved you back?—they simply melt away.

You do not protest when his fingers pluck at the neckline of your shift. You do not feel a single shred of shyness when he pulls away to expose the swell of your chest and admire it. You are nothing but agreeable. Your limbs feel heavy. With great effort, you reach for his tie; fair is fair, and of course you want to see every inch of his body too. But he catches up your brash little hand quicker than you can blink.

The hand that holds you is gentle; the lips that lavish your skin are urgent. He kisses the pulse point of your wrist, drags his tongue over it so languidly—nothing short of worshipful. Your heart only beats faster, fluttering just there beneath your skin and his lips. His eyes fall closed in reverence, and he groans like he can sense his effect on you—sweet, low and needy. You are his echo, of course. You need more, and thus your left hand drags itself up your stomach to grasp and roll the stiff little bud of your nipple.

That is the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes, dark and blown, an amber eclipse. The second is the ring you’re still wearing.

“Remove it,” he hisses, and you don’t need to be told twice. You’d pitch it across the room if he hadn’t snatched and shoved it into his breast pocket first. For safekeeping, of course. He’s going to get you a better one, right? He said he was going to help.

Later, your mind whispers before the fog rolls back in. There is nothing to worry about, with Viktor. You are safe. You are wanted. Are you loved?

Your head lolls, heavy on your neck. Your skin tingles pleasantly everywhere he’s kissed it. “I want you to touch me,” you murmur, because he’s yet neglected where you need him most.

He shuffles you back into the bank of downy pillows against the headboard. His hand is on your thigh, hiking up your pretty white nightgown, and you part your legs for him eagerly. He looks perfect, crouched between them. “I have been touching you, moje lahůdka,” he huffs, bemused.

You pull it up higher still until it’s in a gossamer bunch above your hips. You want him to witness you swollen and glistening wet for him; to see the mess he makes of you untouched. “Here.”

His low, appreciative hum is resonant. He’s not truly interested in toying with you; does not hesitate to indulge in his wants or your own.

It’s better than you ever imagined, when his hand cups between your legs and the heel of his palm rubs your sweetest spot; when his fingers slide down the seam of you; when they catch the dip of your wet little cunt and press in sinfully slow. He watches, spellbound, as you writhe for friction and take two of his fingers to the hilt. That’s all he can stand before he swears beneath his breath, dragging you back against his mouth with a hand tangled in your hair. It’s a sloppy, inelegant kiss—perfectly debauched, the way he pants against your lips. He’s making you feel so, so good.

He deserves to feel good too, doesn’t he?

You reach down to palm the outline of his cock through those dark, woolen trousers. It punches a breath out of him, that gentle caress. His head drops to your shoulder, and your other hand fights gravity to stroke the soft, lovely hair at the nape of his neck; to soothe and encourage and hold fast to him. You seal your fate.

Viktor positively trembles, perhaps from the exertion of dragging his fingers in and out of you, as he kisses your neck tentatively. Licks your neck, a little more confidently. Scrapes his teeth against your neck, boldly. It feels divine, and you’re shaking too. The urge to scream rises in you again. You’re close to breaking, after all. You’re very, very close. That is nothing to be frightened of.

“Do you want this?” he whispers, his voice stripped raw. His lips wander lower and lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone to the top of your breast. “Do you want me? Only me?”

And what can you say but, “Yes,” and, “Always,” as you beg him to make you cum?

The feeling is rapturous when he does, like white hot pleasure pulsing thick through every nerve, every vein. So transcendent it’s almost painful. Your eyes white out. You screw them shut against the explosion of sensation anyways, bright and all consuming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before from your own fingers, and it catches fire in your chest too—right where his lips are lavishing your breast. You writhe through it, nuzzling into his hair as you soundlessly sob and soak his fingers to the cadence of his soft, wet moans against your skin. Those quiet noises are so sweet.

Such a shame, that your heartbeat is starting to drown him out. Slower and slower, it thumps in your ears. You’re coming down already, aren’t you?

Something smells metallic again. Really, very metallic.

It still feels so good, though, like embers of pleasured bliss burning low in your body; like drifting asleep in the bath. It still feels good, even when he takes his hand from between your legs and grips your waist hard. His hand is warm and wet. Finally, you made him feel warm.

And you? Oh… You feel warm and wet too. Down the front of your body: Warm and wet and slick with your nightgown clinging to your skin like you sweated it through. From the intensity, you must’ve.

But it’s okay. Viktor won’t mind. Viktor, who is so very good to you; who cares for you so well. Sweet, shy, brilliant Viktor, you love him very much. You think of him always, even now. You stroke his dark, lovely hair. Or well… You try to. You can’t feel it—not his hair nor your fingers nor your hand. Your arm slips from his shoulders and drops, leaden, to the bed.

Lead. Metal. Copper.

You smell blood.

Fighting sleep’s embrace, there’s just enough willpower left in you to open your eyes. Your lashes are damp like you’ve started to cry. Have you? Feeling is fleeting, but Viktor is cradling your head. His touch is kind, his thumb sweeping soothing arcs against the top of your spinal cord. You can’t lift it, your head. You can hardly think. But you can see, for there is an old standing mirror where often you preened for your studious evenings together, or picked yourself apart for the features you imagined he didn’t care for. Though your vision swims, you are reflected in it as you always are.

Just you, alone in that mirror, hovering slack and painted red.

Viktor has no reflection.

One last desperate adrenaline spike has your head lolling forward. What you could feel and smell is all confirmed. Your eyes did not deceive you. Blood is seeping down your body from perfect little bite marks punctured into your breast, staining the white of your nightgown deepest, deathly crimson. And then there is Viktor—such a tender monster—cradling your limp body, deeply focused on drinking you down. 

You are bleeding out into the hungry maw of a vampire you so erringly loved.

Yes, vampire. It’s not a dream—you can tell. In the end, the only dream was that a predator might care for its prey. And it is the end. You are dying.

You do not want to die.

A scream well and truly rises in your throat now. Viktor feels it coming first and claps a bloody hand over your mouth. With slow, syrupy grace, he unlatches his teeth and rises from your lacerated breast, blood smeared and congealed around lips that’d kissed you so gently minutes ago. He does not wipe his mouth. “I did ask you not to scream,” he chides, leaning in to kiss away the tear slipping down your waxen cheek. Then another, and another, until your face is smeared red too and he’s laying your rag doll body back against the pillows. “You have nothing to fear from me. I would never truly hurt you.” He releases your mouth when you slacken fully, stroking back your hair. “Did it not feel good? I tried to make it feel good.”

You nod weakly. Your vision is rimmed in black.

He smiles. It’s that precious smile you remember from when he’s rather pleased with himself. You cannot see his teeth. “Come, let us fix this,” he says as your eyes slip closed. Then, urgently, he calls your name.

You’re distantly aware of something cold and seeping wet pressed to your lips; that he’s prying your mouth open and urging you to, “Drink. Please, please drink—you must,” in a voice far too scared to belong to a monster. Something truly putrid drips against your tongue, slips down the back of your throat. It burns like dry ice, and yet you frantically swallow it down. It’s vile, his blood, for that is surely what it is, and yet you crave more. More, more, more until your body wakes up, and you’re clutching his arm to your mouth because even if you’re not sure you want to be this—what he’s making you—it’s preferable to death. You want to live.

You drink deep from him, gulping and messy like it’s water and you’re parched, until he has to rip his arm from your clawing, iron grasp. The trance is broken, then. You’re promptly scrabbling back against the headboard, far away as you can get, breathing hard with burning lungs. It’s not reassuring that the way he’s staring at you is a reflection of your own face: Utterly horrified.

“What have you done?” you ask desperately, clutching at your naked chest. Your heart still beats scared and sure beneath your hands, somehow.

He calms and considers for a moment. “I have acted in accordance with your wishes,” he says slowly, as if he genuinely believes that to be true. “The freedom to be with me is now yours. You will be as I am.”

The audacity. To think you care about that, in this moment, after everything that has just transpired. Freedom, at what cost?

Your voice cuts a hysterical edge. “That was it? Was it really so simple to turn me?” In no significant way did you feel different, yet. Your body is warm, your heart still beats, and your teeth are normal when you touch them. You are not ready to believe that you will change.

He looks quite apologetic to tell you: “The painful part will follow, I’m afraid. Your body has not died yet.”

The tears come flowing unbidden, though you feel completely numb. They are normal too.

“You have a choice,” he tells you, scooting closer. You wipe the amalgamation of blood, snot and tears from your face and take his hand, for at the end of your human life, you were still needy. Indeed, he doesn’t care that you’re filthy; he kisses that hand all the same. You’ve been through a harrowing night, the two of you. And you will go through much, much more.

“You may either choose to stay and let the transformation run its course. Your family may watch you die, and ideally put you in the ground before they see you change. Or...” His hand tightens around yours. He has a preference. “You may gather your things and leave a note. Say that you have run away. With me, preferably; I would like them to know. Leave with me tonight, and I will do what I can to ease the suffering.”

That choice is how you end up on your knees, stoking the fire back to life in your bedside hearth. You cannot stay. Viktor feeds the flames your soiled, bloody linens in torn up shreds while you stuff a trunk with your favorite things. Everything burns but the nightgown you wore—he insists on keeping it as a token. A new one, but you don’t have the presence of mind to catch that implication. All you can manage is putting yourself back together and penning a note several times over until your script is clean and free of tremors; a note for which you will feel eternally guilty. Viktor approves, though.

You mention him. 

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

first love // before I cave in

🎶 before I cave in by too close to touch

(AU) Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] so I just found out my mum has cancer so updates will probably be weekly from now on (sorry) but I'm still excited for where this series is going and hopefully you enjoy it!

[warnings?] underage drinking, angst, self doubt, bad parents.

first love masterlist here!

The sticky summer’s heat clung to the cheap fabric of your sweater, the gentle breeze doing nothing to help cool you down and even though you may have been overheating, you’d rather take that chance and feel protected by the comfort of your sweater then to feel the unnerving chill that was bound to be a constant within the small tunnels of the Catacombs. 

Why you were visiting a mass grave you weren’t entirely sure other than the fact that Eddie had insisted on it, saying that it was possibly the most metal thing he’d ever experience in his life. Although, you weren’t sure anything could beat the time Jason Carver swapped Eddie’s clothes out for a cheerleaders uniform during gym. Thankfully leaving a pair of shorts behind so he wasn’t flashing the entirety of Hawkins at once. Much to Jason’s dismay not only did Eddie pull off the awkward fit of the outfit but he also managed to gain a handful of new ‘sheep’ to carry on the legacy of the Hellfire club after he graduated. Which subsequently also turned him into a living legend of the former freak turned rockstar that would continue to live on within the trauma ridden hallways of the school for many years later. 

Yeah, that was once pretty epic day.

“Ready to go?” The living legend said himself before wrapping his arms around both you and Robin as you followed the tour guide into the ancient passages. 

It was unnerving seeing the thousands of bodies stacked upon each other, simply as if their bones held no meaning and served as a reminder that the world keeps moving even after your death, that one day you would cease to exist in both memory and real life. The only sound to be heard for miles being the echoing crunch of shoes on gravel and the voice of your tour guide leading you around. The air was thick and heavy almost claustrophobic as if there were one too many people in the room yet only 10 silhouettes were reflected under the dark dingy lights, 5 of which belonged to you and your friends. 

“look bats!” You’d excitedly whispered to the group as you pointed them out, the creatures almost hidden away in the far corner of the ruins. For as long as you could remember you’d always preferred animals over humans, being somewhat anti-social and having absent family meant you spent a lot of time alone with nothing but nature to surround you, the peaceful hustle and bustle of the woods bringing you a sense of comfort and relief when you needed it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Both of you sprawled out across your bedroom floor giggling like school girls half drunk and flushed, window wide open and curtains lightly fluttering from the wind. High school was officially over and adulthood was quickly approaching, neither of you feeling like partying but opting to stay at home together, taking in the final moments before you returned to the ‘real world’.  

Although you’d both been forced to grow up long before you were meant to, it didn’t mean the idea of becoming a real adult was any less scary. After all you’d watched your parents fall in and out of love, working 9-5 in a depressingly boring job and become hollow lifeless shells of people they used to be. Where once upon a time they had a love for life, a love for you, until money and status grabbed a hold of them like a disease, outweighing everything else that mattered until they were left with nothing but their greediness to comfort them. 

Perhaps that’s why you and Steve were so close, because you understood each others troubles and both just longed for someone to see you and love you as you are. The sleepless nights spent talking about anything and everything or just being alone together were something you would’t trade even if your life depended on it, just like tonight.

Steve could tell your mind was running rampant with thoughts and fear, the frown on your face evidence enough. He hated how your parents treated you, terms and conditions attached to their love as if you owed them, to him he would happily walk through fire and burn in hell if it meant he got a chance to show you how much he adored you. Nonetheless the dread of being rejected meant he would only ever do so platonically because he’d rather have you as a friend then lose you as a lover. 

“If you could be any animal what would it be?” He’d cleverly lured you away from your darkness hoping it would be enough to keep the pain away a little while longer. 

You on the other hand, turned towards Steve, observing his every move as if you were scared he was a figment of your imagination and would disappear any second. You knew he knew what you were thinking about, and you gladly accepted the distraction.

“Hmm, I think I’d be a bat.” Truth be told this was something you thought of often enough to have a solid answer for.

“what?” Steve had turned towards you now, propping himself up with his arms and stealing a swig from the wine he’d smuggled over. 

“You know what a bat is Steve” It came out as more of a question than a statement but you continued on. “Bats do almost everything upside down and the equivalent of their meals to ours would be like 20 pizzas every night.” 

“You must really like pizza to want to eat 20 every day for the rest of your life.” He teased, running a hand through his soft untamed hair. 

“Well who doesn’t like pizza?” You waited for an answer but thankfully got none. “What would you be?” 

Although you saw him almost every day you couldn’t deny that somehow he got more attractive each time. Wether it was the alcohol or mutual attraction talking you couldn’t take your eyes off his features that were ingrained in your memory like a scar you never wanted to fade. From the light freckles kissing his skin to the gentle curve of his nose and slightly flushed face, every part of him was beautiful like he’d been carved by a god and blessed with holy water. And the way he looked at you sometimes, made you feel like the only girl in the world, his soft eyes gleaming with what you hoped to be love but settled with fondness, perhaps in another lifetime you could be more.

You didn’t realise you’d blanked out until you saw his large hand waving in front of your face. “Anyone there?” It had gone way past midnight by now, waves of sleepiness crashing over you both waiting to pull you under. 

“Sorry what were you saying.” Slightly embarrassed to be caught thinking about your best friend in such a way.

“If you’re a bat I wanna be a bat too.” He’d said so earnestly practically melting you under his stare. The room fell into a comfortable silence both just soaking in the moment before sleep drowned you both." 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“ew they’re so ugly.” Rebecca had murmured out, holding tightly onto Steve’s arm as she pulled him away. “Babe I’m bored can we go now?”

You’d arrived no less than 20 minutes ago but of course Steve just let her yap on like a little lap dog, fuck she was making it hard to accept her and it was only two days in.

No.

You wont be that person.

She was probably just having a bad day or maybe she was scared of the dark? 

You didn’t not like her….?

you liked her?

Yeah that wasn’t convincing…

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[a/n] Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged!

other works available here!

taglist: @freezaz123

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Rivals - 12

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Tori, Chiaki

Proofreading: moricchiichan (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Tori: I want to hear it from you, senpai; from someone who wouldn’t call Eichi-sama an angel or a devil, but a friend.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Corridor

Tori: (humming♪) I spoke with Prez during lunch break! This is the best day ever!

Chiaki: Fufu. You sure love Tenshouin, Himemiya. Good, good. I’m glad he has a protege who adores him…

Tenshouin loves to go out of his way to play the villain — It’s hard to watch sometimes.

Tori: Yeah… That’s surprisingly perceptive coming from you, Morisawa-senpai.

Chiaki: He and I are friends, after all! He might’ve denied it, but it doesn’t change that I consider him so.

Tori: …I didn’t get a good answer back there, but are you really friends with the Prez, senpai? How? You guys look like total opposites.

He mostly calls everyone except Long Hair and Vice-Prez by their surname, but he called you “Chiaki”… and acted pretty familiar with you, too.

Chiaki: Yeah. I only realized a while after entering this academy, but we’d actually met a couple times as children.

Tori: Huh, so you’re his childhood friend, like the Vice-Prez?

Chiaki: Ah, no. We met and spoke in our hospital rooms, but I can count how many times just with my two hands.

Tori: Hospital…?

Chiaki: Yeah. I was frail as a child, and I’ve always been one to get injured often even then, so I had many trips to the hospital.

I ran into him sometimes, since he got hospitalized often, too.

We’d completely forgotten about such an old memory, though. But after reuniting in Yumenosaki and speaking to each other a few times, the memories came back to us.

I only introduced myself as “Chiaki” as a child, so I think calling me that just feels more right to him, over “Morisawa”.

Tori: Huh… I think I get that. It’s hard changing how you call someone. I still call Prez “Eichi-sama” too, sometimes.

Chiaki: You’re a big fan of his, after all. You can call me “Chiaki-sama,” too! ☆

Tori: No way~ I’m not even your fan, senpai.

…But you know, for two people who just met a few times as children, you were kinda overly familiar with each other… like real, good friends.

Chiaki: Well, he helped me out a lot when I got promoted to the Captain position in Ryuseitai.

Alone, I might’ve failed to keep Ryuseitai together and ended up putting an end to its long history…

I owe him a lot. He told me he was just paying me back for when I saved him in the underground livehouse back then, but…[1]

Seeing the state of affairs then, I don’t think he had the leisure to do that.

Yet he helped me, taking a risk he didn’t have to.

That was a kindness only possible when you didn’t look for anything in return. No, he might deny it, but… it was friendship.

He isn’t a cold, calculative machine. I want to believe that he isn’t as bad a guy as everyone makes him out to be.

But I don’t have to tell you that, Himemiya, do I?

Tori: …No. Actually, I've been feeling uncertain lately. I love Eichi-sama, so I’ve always snapped back each time someone spoke badly of him….

But in Starfes, I came in contact with a fragment of the darkness he was hiding…

Eichi-sama wasn’t the shining, perfect angel I thought he was.

There’s no smoke without fire. There is a reason behind everyone’s badmouthing of him — something cruel…

I can see it. I’m not a child.

Tori: Say, Morisawa-senpai. What happened in Yumenosaki Academy in the past? What did he do? What for?

Even though I wanted to know, I was too scared to ask more, so I couldn’t step into it all this time, but —

Tell me, even just within the scope of what I’m allowed to hear, but without lying or glossing over it. If I take it too slowly, Eichi-sama will graduate. I’m running out of time.

I want to hear it from you, senpai; from someone who wouldn’t call Eichi-sama an angel or a devil, but a friend.

Because I want to be close to him, too.

He’s cold and shivering up high in the sky, all alone. I came to see him because I wanted to nestle close and be by his side.

But he’s still a little far, so I need to fly even higher and get closer.

Getting too close to the sun melts away wings made of wax. But, he’s always told me that my wings are real and warm.

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

Translation Note:

[1] Chiaki is referring to what happened in Crossroad.