#ove bell

[honeyuuyuu]

masquerade ball ove (requested by my vc on Discord-)

@achy-boo @call-me-aesthetic hope you're proud of me-

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(lipstick ver. below)

[honey-milk-depresso]

The Boy I Love (Ove Bell x Reader)

Ove Bell is my OC, this is for @call-me-aesthetic especially 💕 Hope you enjoy! ^^

TW: One cuss word. I think- (very mild cussing)

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The boy I love is a jokester.

“Ove…”

“What? I’m scared, s/o. Aren’t you gonna be my knight and shining armour and protect me?~” he playfully reacted as he placed his hand on his hand to look exasperated.

The two of you were in a haunted house as a Halloween date, and you knew jolly well that Ove wasn’t scared of it one bit. No, he just wanted to act scared to cling to your arm… actually no, just cling onto you.

“Are you done pretending?” You raised a brow, monotonously asking your boyfriend. He gasped, touching his chest offendedly. “When your love is in distress, fear, anguish and helpless without you? Oh, how cruel can you be, my snuggle bug?” Ove sighed as he sounded hurt, but that wide grin on his face says otherwise.

“Snuggle bug? Cringe.”

“S/oooooo,” he wrapped his arms firmer around your arm, chin resting on your head. “Protect meeeeeeee~”

“Oh my sevens…” you smiled at him, as he smiled at you back.

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The boy I love has bad taste in movies.

“What are we watching?” You asked your boyfriend while looking baffled at the television screen.

You would’ve expected horror, comedy or thriller from this man but…

“It’s an alien invasion movie.”

“Why is the alien invasion movie all stop motion and have un-sync lip sync?”

“It’s from the 1970s.”

You groaned. Oh my god. I mean sevens.

Your boyfriend decided to pick a movie so outdated and cheesy, the plot is almost so cliche with the main characters obviously using the power of friendship to save the day, characters that have the most nonsensical thinking and scripts.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty and I’m not gonna roast you for watching something so awful,” you laughed at the movie for how awful it is, that is somehow became a good film?

“I know. And I know you love the show, too.”

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The boy I love learns something new for me

“Ove?”

“Ah shit… this’s embarrassin’…” You faced Ove who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a poem out loud with a bunch of papers that had messily written verses scribbled with lead.

“I suck at words and I… I heard poetry was necessary for Valentine’s Day..? That and I had other things prepared but writing is a pain in the ass…”

You picked up one paper, reading it. “ ‘Your eyes are diamonds, your teeth are pearls, your hair is silk and your skin is glitter’? That is so cheesy~ I didn’t know you’re that type of guy, Ove,” you teased him, catching a rare sight of him blushing a glowing red on his cheeks.

“Well, sorry, I’m trying. It’s my first time writing something like this you know,” he huffed, pouting as he crossed his arms. “And I really do think so…”

You smiled, touched by his words and you kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I feel very loved, and it’s the feelings from you that matters to me.”

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The boy I love carefully thinks of meaning.

“What the heck…” You entered your room to see green glow-in-the-dark stars messily pasted across your room, with a bright moon and sun lamp illuminating the dark room with a golden glow.

Not that it was bad or anything, but why? You walked over to the drawer at the side of your bed to see a note. More specifically, a note from Ove.

“Did he do this while I was gone?” You asked yourself as you sat down and read the note with the help of your two new lamps.

You’re the stars, the moon and the sun of my world. I did. this so you’d remembered that.

-Ove Bell

PS: I’m getting better at poetry, am I right? Also all this costed me a fortune from Sam’s store so please say you like it I worked hard-

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head as your cheeks bloomed pink. Your boyfriend is such a cheesy little freak.

Sevens, do you love him so much.

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The boy I love tries his best to make me happy.

“Hey now…” Ove awkwardly wraps an arm around you as he soothingly hummed.

You know he’s not the best at comforting, and you could feel how stiff he was when he sat down beside you.

He bit his bottom lip, unsure of what to do next. His spider on his shoulder, Todd, tapped on his neck and he showed Todd to your face. “He’s not a scary spider… he wants to see you happy, too..!” Ove smiled, but you hung your head low and only nodded half-heartedly. He frowns, and Todd looked at the boy with a worried body expression of tapping his two front legs together. He placed Todd on his shoulder and scooted closer to you.

“Hey now, look. I know… I don’t know why you’re upset but I think you’re really cool. You’re brave to cry in front of others and… you’re not scared of Todd. Or at least you overcome your fear of Todd. Still I…”

He paused for a moment and pulled you closer to him if that was even possible. “I want you to be happy.” You looked at him, he smiled gently with an almost anxious expression, desperately trying to cover it.

He’s trying his best for you, you thought and you smiled meekly. “I’m sorry for burdening you.” He frowns once more. “Burdening me? I love you why would that burden me, ya sweet bug?” He smirks. “I’d be here for you any day.”

You giggled at his antics, smiling fully as he grins. “Thanks, Ove.”

“No need to thank me.”

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The boy I love loves to mess with my hair.

Ove took of his beanie and sat crossed-legged on the floor with a bunch of hairpins and clips, flowers he plucked from outside and from Heartslabyul a brush in hand as he smiled to himself.

You sat in front of him with your back facing him, sighing unamused.

“Don’t do anything funny like last time.”

“What? You know I love playing with your hair~” he coos, slowly brushing your hair.

It was soothing, honestly, and he began to clip some pins and put flowers onto your hair. You hummed to yourself, subconsciously humming to what your boyfriend hums to himself. From his fingers, he touched them and pulled delicate shimmering translucent strings like cobwebs and weaved them like a spider.

“And… done!” He took a hand mirror and gave it to you, letting you see the cobwebbed veil he made that complimented the clips and flowers on your hair.

“Wow…” “Wow indeed, s/o. You look pretty.”

You blushed. “I… tha-” “Pretty normal.”

“OVE-” “I’m joking, I’m joking!” He smiles genuinely. “You’re beautiful.”

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The boy I love loves me.

He sat beside you in the open field as the wind blew a gentle, cool breeze. Ove looked at you, eyes softening as he smiled a little wider. He looked back at the sky you were staring so mesmerisingly at, the sunset that shone over the horizon was a sight to behold indeed.

But not as much as you.

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

“Ove, don’t curse!” You chided him. He chuckles to himself. “Sorry but I can’t help myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I just realised how stupid I am.”

“I mean you’re a little dumb, but not stupid. Dumb in not having movie taste.”

He gasped offendedly in a playful manner. “My taste is superior!” “Dream on!”

You both laughed. “Nah, but… I’m stupid to realise I never had guts to do something important.”

“Like?” You asked him, raising a brow.

“This.” The next moment he leaned in to your face, your eyes widening. It all felt like slow motion as he leaned closer and closer, finally pressing his lips on yours. He pulled a way a few moments later, smirking at the way your cheeks burned red.

“I love you,” you blinked momentarily, the words he spoke flowed like a waterfall out of his mouth, no hesitation and with full confidence.

His simple words left you overwhelmed, as you felt the corner of your eyes stung with hot tears.

The boy freaked out when a single tear rolled down your cheek, frantically waving his hand.“H-hey, did I said something wro-”

“Not at all,” you told him. “I… I love you, too.”

He stares at you, his gaze on you unwavering as he smiled softly. “Man… you’re really something, s/o…”

🍯☘️💌☘️🍯

Reblogs help! ^^

[stickandch0ke]

The Pumpkin Eater - Penelope Mortimer

[sl4sh3rsub]

brahms heelshire hcs (nsfw: mdni)

brahms heelshire x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a whole heap. dom/sub dynamics + aspects of the lifestyle (both brahms and reader are switches, reader is a soft dom mostly) AND top/bottom dynamics (both brahms and reader are vers), dubious consent (somnophilia, overstimulation?), use of mommy/daddy/sir towards reader in separate sections, copious mentions of cum + precum (includes cum eating/cum marking/cum jar), fuck malcolm 202x (brahms is territorial), detailed ass stuff: anal, rimming, ass eating (giving and receiving), oral sex (giving), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), domestic behaviour, hygiene practices, hickeys, thigh fucking, cockwarming, sex toys, dry humping

a/n: barely edited. is it mummy or mommy?? average aussie moment. i also have a smut fic in my drafts so hmu in the inbox if you wanna see it, i'm not too sure if there's any demand for it lmao DISCLAIMER: i, personally, have not been in properly established dominant/submissive relationship! i have been in those spaces for a while though and am doing my best to not misrepresent lifestyle aspects or write fics promoting extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics - obviously take this with a grain of salt as this fic is about a slasher and is already not a healthy n wholesome starting point. do your own research and stay safe irl folks

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

there's a very clear dom/sub dynamic in your relationship and brahms is definitely a switch (leaning sub) to the core. sometimes he'll be extremely dominant with you during sex, but he'll always revert back to your sweet boy after he makes an effort to clean you up <3

you take turns fucking each other braindead but after your eyes roll into your head, you always have to get him back by making him drool into the pillows for the next couple of hours

brahms insists on starting a quickie and cumming all over your chest and face right before malcolm is scheduled to arrive. he pushes you towards the door as the bell rings and wants to leave you with his drying spend stained all over your skin, sticking your shirt to you in dark splotches - a territorial, possessive nature is awakened in brahms as he watches from the walls while malcolm flushes and realises what is going on. the best bit is, you're fully well aware of what he's doing after the first time it happens, but you entertain his antics for a little while longer to ensure the poor delivery boy gets the message to back off

he also has a small, little, teensy weensy habit of cum marking all of your underwear, pillowcases and even goes as far as making you special little jam sandwiches with a little... salty layer, especially for you

push your thumb against his hole and go to town on his ass and eat him out - put a pillow under his hips and do him a favour by stuffing your underwear in his mouth so he won't lose his voice as he's screaming from pleasure, of course. he'll be so, so obedient for the day after and if you sneak behind him to smack his ass, his knees will buckle slightly and his head whips towards you to meet your mischievous gaze

his sloppy, spit-shined pink hole winks at you after you make out with it, and the sight makes you lose control every single time, especially when he whines. he grinds against your tongue as you fuck him, circling your fingers around the base of his cock to stop him from instantly staining the sheets. his precious cum spurting onto his chest would be a waste and make quite the mess

brahms' knees get weak and he practically melts beneath your touch when you start focusing on his cockhead while sucking him off - slick up your thumb with his sticky precum as you drag it along his slit, lick small circles and drool over it as you blow cool air to see him shiver... genuinely anything to do with his sensitive tip with get him spilling all over your tongue. if he's sitting on the edge of a table or counter while you take his length down your throat, he'll shift one of his thighs over your shoulder and hump into your mouth with shuddering gasps, needing to have your drool coating him completely while his eyes roll back and you hold your breath

brahmsy is obsessed with you caring for him (both sexually and non-sexually), especially with things such as prescribed routines and specific positions for him to follow. of course brahms is reliant on order! he's already accustomed to following the rules and schedules while in the wall, so it's only natural for him to feel safe with you after his previous neglect. he's so obedient and willing for you to make him into your own pliable doll - he's most happy with you guiding him everywhere and often shaving him, practically playing dress up every day. brahms knows that every saturday is when you have your thorough 'inspection' of his body - it's when you decide whether or not to shave his pubes and facial hair in the next week! sometimes he wants to be clean shaven and sometimes he's more than happy to grow out his dark curls, but he secretly adores you methodically shaving around his cock - gently holding it up or to the side to make sure you get everything and your diligent focus solely on his soft shaft makes him flush under your attentive gaze. every single time you adjust your warm grip on his balls to maneuver the blade, his cockhead beads out a tad bit of precum. every single time, without fail. he doesn't even have to be hard for his body to react like that, for his tip to drool with his arousal, but your low chuckles and distracted glances up at his flushed chest make it hard for him to not squirm in your hold :( he was originally the one to suggest the whole shaving thing, as he wasn't the biggest fan of fully cleaning up after cumming everywhere and it tended to dry in his thick bush of curls. after you first tried out hair removal with him, he found it much easier to wipe off his mess and was overall much more convenient.

your clinical precision in keeping your favourite boy upkept each day makes for a soothing routine for you and a chance for brahms to preen and bask in your attention for a solid hour. brahms' favourite part of the daily routine is your softly spoken orders in the morning to tilt his chin back slightly as you run the razor over his jawline and down his neck. the raw vulnerability almost gives him shivers, but good boys never disobey directions to 'stay still' <3

if you manage to wrangle up get brahms into having a prescribed skincare routine, his attentively mumbled recitations of the order for his cleanser, exfoliant and moisturizer drift down the hall while you prepare breakfast for two of you :(

make sure to praise him for washing up properly before you both get intimate! his lifestyle did a 180 after meeting you, so any encouragement to be clean and neat is positive reinforcement for him to stay that way

if brahms feels a little shy or out of it on any given day, he disappears into the walls for some time away - that doesn't mean he won't trail you like a shuffling shadow though, he just might not want to be out in the open for a little. to make him feel loved, kiss the wallpaper of the wall he's behind! the little gasp or squeak of surprise as he undoubtedly turns beet red just a mere inch away from you is a small joy <3

if you feel stressed or wound up, he's fully convinced that some dick will mellow you out just fine! he wants you to be fucked out so your anxious demeanor disappears and you can be happy again - it's for your own good :(

despite how he loves the wholesome nature of your voice going soft while you compliment him, he can't ignore how it makes him swell in his pants. he just loves the warmth in your gaze and the quirk in the edge of your lips as his eyes glaze over

brahms has a cum jar that he keeps in the walls - it has a small lock of your hair set in it from when you slept in the house the first night. if you have to go out early to the local farmer's market or shops, you'll most likely find a small, warm jar hastily and clumsily cleaned on your bedside table - a cooling milky substance makes the glass opaque as a few small dribbles slide down the outer rim. it's from brahmsy, of course. he wants you to always be aware of what your presence and existence does to him

whenever he wants to try and cook for you or you leave your meal out before you eat together, brahms will quickly jack off all over the food. he just wants to make sure you have a bit of his love incorporated in your diet - in case you accidentally swap them, he'll make sure to put it on all the plates available. he doesn't mind at all, he's not picky! although, brahms would much rather eat his cum off of your fingers or out of you, or even from your lips as you make out after you give him head... but whatever has to happen to ensure you have his cum in your tummy, brahmsy will do it

he is a fiend for stealing your clothing, especially your underwear (bonus points if they're not clean) - he wears the dirty garment or simply wraps it around his leaky cock. he begs you to wear the cum-stained underwear while you go out on emergency necessary shopping trips. he just wants to ensure that you have him on your mind the whole time :(

if you refuse, he'll reluctantly compromise with you and make you keep the doll with you to ensure everyone backs off when you're in public. he swears up and down that you'll be so much safer with his 'mini me' attached at your hip

if you need to go into town at any point, make sure to prep brahms a day beforehand with being alright in your absence - have your laundry done ahead of time with your detergent and scent on it to give him and leave written instructions to have a shower using your soap and shampoo to feel safer <3 if you've been doing a project over the past few days, such as painting or long chores together (like repairing a set of chairs or dusting all the room decor), make sure brahms is comfortable with continuing it when you're out - it gives him a distraction and something to do with his hands

puppy dog eyes go both ways in your relationship - he weaponizes it to try and convince you to spend more time skin-to-skin and you use it to make him listen and follow instructions. it also has the added bonus of getting you both riled up

tap twice on your belt buckle or the fly of your pants and his brain will fully turn off. his breath goes whiny and his tongue lolls out at the thought of you using his face for your own selfish needs

brahms is incredibly shy but willing to go against his own timid nature for you. the first time he presented himself to you was something you'll never forget. you had gone to fetch him a glass of water and when you returned to your room, he had confidently stripped naked and was kneeling on the rug, waiting for you with a blush across his chest. you stuttered and diverted your gaze in shock, hurriedly covering your eyes. brahms rose and tutted, shakily tilted your chin towards him and cooing at your bashful reaction. he whispered reassurances in your ear - he wanted you to look at his body, it's yours to do with as you wish. he trusts you wholeheartedly, so command him and he will meet your every need

if brahmsy is being a bit of a brat, tease him for not being on his best behaviour - press soft kisses into his lips but never deepening, purposefully avoiding what he craves most. keep your hand at the base of his throat to gently apply pressure while you slowly draw closer to him, puffs of breath mingling as his whines get more desperate. if brahms lunges to try and smash your lips together, pull back and tighten your grip. watch his eyes roll back with tears pooling from his need

brahms' favourite punishment is being spanked as he's bent over your knee, cock pressed between your thighs. whenever he jolts, he can thrust into you as his pale skin lights up pink and red - both from your hand and his arousal. make sure to smack his balls a little too, he'll cum like a fountain from the stimulation. brahms truly is a sight to behold whenever he is falling apart by your hand

his second favourite punishment is when you fuck yourself on a dildo smaller than his cock. order him into his prescribed kneeling position - palms flat on his thighs, heels propped up under his ass and back straight - to make him watch you bounce up and down on your toy, giving him a show. watch him intently and you'll see rivulets of sweat trail down his chest as his dick bobs and twitches against his stomach at the lack of stimulation, his heated gaze feasting on the sight of your body with rapt attention. the part that makes his chest ache is your slightly needy and unsatisfied expression you try to hide - brahms knows for a fact that the silicone can't fill you the way he can. although he is more than happy with watching you get off mere feet infront of him, the agonizing thrum of his heartbeat in his cock and white crescents dug into his thighs are testament to how this scenario is effecting him. it's different to his voyeuristic endeavors behind the walls - if he had his way, he would've already busted a load onto the drywall and all over his fist at the sight of you

brahms is a massive fan of ruined orgasms - as long as you shush his yelps and whimpers while pressing kisses into his hairline and stroking his thighs, that is. he needs the comfort during and afterwards, but the raw experience altogether gives him an adrenaline rush

he is also a massive fan of cock milking - keep a small crystal bowl under his tip to catch all his milky cum. the visual of the aftermath, combined with the shaking of his thighs, nearly makes his vision black out with pleasure

brahms' movements are clumsy, and his hands shake from nervousness and reverence every time he touches you and he learns over time how to please and obey you perfectly, but he never shakes his little habit of rutting against you whenever you're nearby

the poor guy has years and years of pent-up sexual frustration and yearning - you are the perfect solution to all of his problems, so don't be surprised if he's selfish with his pleasure every so often

if you straddle him while cuddling and put his head to your chest, his brain fully stops working and all of his blood rushes to his cock. however, unlike every other time you're in a sexual position, his constant need to fuck you is delayed temporarily - he's torn between feeling comforted and extremely turned on, resulting in him being rock hard but comfortably lounging while you run your fingers through his hair. kiss him at your own pace, as he has no rush to be buried in your guts - just don't shift on top of him though, he'll snap out of it and remember what position you're both in :<

brahms has a life mission of reminding you that it's play time at all times of the day, attempting to coax you into letting him seek refuge between your thighs, no matter the situation - be it eating your ass from behind while you cook or caging you against the nearest bench while fucking your soft thighs

call him a pervert for watching you behind the walls and he'll turn bright red out of shame. do him a favour and ignore the bulge he fruitlessly tries to cover his huge bulge with trembling hands

he loves to give you head while you wake, your heavy musk is addictive to him. he's definitely not against you returning the favour the next day or fucking yourself on his morning wood after he's been humping you in his sleep. his favourite thing is to blink away his drowsiness while realising he's buried to the hilt in your tight warmth, pinching your nipples and moaning above him. hopefully you have nothing to do that morning, because the moment he cums, he will be immediately knocked out for another hour

brahms makes himself a little leather collar in his workshop - if you go into town and get an engraved pendant for him, he will go feral and not take it off for weeks :(

if he feels a bit worn out after a round or a mind-blowing orgasm, expect to feel his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck - especially when his softening cock still buried deep inside you. he loves to take a little nap in between rounds while you cockwarm him, it's just easier for your heartbeats to match pace :<

while brahms was in the walls, he had a habit of skulking around while other nannies were working - stroking his cock for a couple of minutes before going back to lounging in his bed or returning to shadow his carer, raging boner being unattended for a while before the whole cycle repeated. this results in him wandering around the house - with either his boxers tented or his bottom half nude, for easy access of course. you have to train him into the habit of wearing pants consistently. this little pattern of his also results in him initiating sexual situations with you - such as grinding, making out or dry humping - before disappearing into a wall in the middle of it, only to reappear a short while later to continue the interaction

he treasures anything you buy for him! what do you mean you got him a rose bouquet and a pretty butt plug with a shiny gem? ... a toy? for him?? he just wants to be loved and getting him any type of gift, especially sex toys, is the perfect way to ensure he knows he is loved and cared for. it validates his intense feelings of love and affection towards you

it's very important to remind him about alternating his clothes - the sour stench of sweat and musty air can cling to his older outfits, so getting him adjusted to wearing fresh clothing you picked out is beneficial to you both

brahmsy often helps himself to your bed and bedding, causing you to be pressed snugly to his lean body with the downy comforter wrapped securely around the two of you. if you're away from your room in the early morning, expect to return to a tall, snoring man bundled in all of you bed linen

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

brahms calls you daddy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his reverent gaze trails over your body.

brahmsy begs you to fuck him whenever he's feeling subby, so be sure to let him bounce on your cock - the real reward is the hickeys you leave on his pale chest while he grinds down and clutches your head close to his chest

slap your cock on his hole :( his neck will be aching slightly from his insistence on maintaining eye contact with you as he begs for you to be inside him

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size, not small in any capacity. sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as he remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your cock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation of your cock as he swallows down your hot cum. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to ride his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms daydreams about your lip-gloss, all sticky at the base of his cock as your tight lips suckle around his sensitive tip

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your bra strap peeking out from your shirt collar. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him... hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

brahms has a penchant for cumming with his tip pressed against your hole - he loves working you up with his tongue while stroking himself then, while he's about to cum, he pushes himself into you. that tad bit of resistance met against his tip is enough to make his balls tighten and cock spurt hot ropes

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping pussy, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your clit is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty bud, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your cunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

brahms calls you sir relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his devoted gaze trails over your body

he loves being able to have the hand of another man to teach him how to indulge in pleasure. the absolute mind-blowing rush he feels whenever he sinks into your tight heat rivals what he heard heaven was like, especially when you moan so loudly as he strokes your cock

whenever brahms is fucking you from behind, he has a habit of digging his fingers into your soft lower tummy, massaging his fingertips back and forth over his cockhead as he's buried balls deep. his eyes glaze over at the added pressure and drool dribbles onto your back as his jaw goes slack

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to fuck his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size - not small in any capacity, so sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as brahms remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping tcock, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your dick is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty length, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your boycunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

imagine his surprise when the pretty, sweet nanny has a bulge under her skirt just like his! his brain short-circuits when he realises you have similar bodies - he's able to transfer his knowledge of pleasure across to you. when he discovers what makes you tick, he practices on himself to get used to it and to hone his technique

he'll sew you a special set of lingerie, with hair bows to match. brahms is a craftsman at heart and nothing makes his heart swell more than watching you showcase his work. he'll fuck you in front of all the mirrors in the house - he wants to see you absolutely fall apart while you display his handiwork. brahmsy truly believes you have the beauty of an angel, that the greatest honour is to have you wear his creation proudly :(

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths outside, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your hard nipples making soft peaks in your shirt. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him… hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your girlcock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation as he swallows down your hot arousal. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

fuck greta and by extension, fuck malcolm ig. this took a hot minute tbh. am cooking up some more stuff but might take a while.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[luvhughes43]

sibling jealousy | dad!jamie drysdale x reader

au masterlist💐

request: for the Lila au how about Lila starts to get a little jealous of her sibling because she thinks Jamie and mom don’t love her anymore and Jamie and mom explain that they still love her and come up with ways Lila could help with the new baby.

word count: 0.7k 

the move to philadelphia was hard enough on its own for the toddler, and with the recent addition of her brother to the household, lila was struggling to adjust to her new life. 

suddenly, she wasn’t seeing her uncle trevor anymore, and her dad wasn’t at home as often - both due to him being off IR and because his new schedule was more demanding. then, there was a new baby who was constantly crying and taking up all of moms and dads time. 

you and jamie were surprised that lila wasn’t getting along well with her brother - she had never really disliked anyone before. sure, she was shy and it took time for her to adjust to new people but… it had been months since noahs end-of-season birth and so it was shocking that lila was still struggling. she was avoiding anything to do with her brother, side-eyeing him all the time, and was throwing tantrums whenever you and jamie were tending to the baby.

it all came to a head on monday afternoon, when jamie got home from morning practice and wanted to spend time with his newborn. 

“daddy!” lila screeched, running over to her dad who sat on the couch with the baby in his arms. 

“woah! lila be gentle,” jamie cautioned, re-adjusting the baby closer to his chest. 

lila paused, assessing the situation before asking her dad if he wanted to play. to no surprise, jamie politely declined and assured lila he would make the time to play later. 

later 

later 

later.

it was always later. there was always something that needed to be done with the baby and frankly, lila was sick and tired of it. the 3 year old started to tear up. 

when jamie looked up from the baby, all he saw was his daughter's sad eyes before you walked into the room and asked what was wrong.

“I HATE noah!” lila shouted, pointing one of her chubby fingers towards her baby brother. at the sound of your gasp, lila started sobbing.

“lila..?” jamie was confused, not at all sure of where this was all coming from. yes they had noticed that lila was slow to adjust to noah, but this wasn’t new behaviour from her. 

lila shook her head before voicing her worries, “you don’t love me anymore!” 

“of course we love you,” you try to assure your daughter, heart breaking at the sight of her tears. when you sit down on the floor beside her, she immediately crawls into your lap and open arms. 

jamie sets noah in his baby toy-seat, and then sits with his daughter and wife on the floor. “we love you so much lila-bell,” he soothes, rubbing circles on her back as she clings to her mom. 

lila continued crying, “no! you love no-ah now!” 

“we love you both,” you chime in, bringing your daughter closer to your body. 

lila shakes her head, simultaneously breaking both yours and jamie's hearts. 

“you don’t play anymore,” she sniffles, shifting her head from your chest so she can look at her dad. 

“i’m so sorry baby,” he responds, tears shining in his own eyes. when lila didn’t respond right away, he grabs her from your arms to cuddle. 

“i’m so sorry,” he repeats. “i love you so much, okay?” 

lila nods, finally settling down now that she was in her fathers arms. 

“‘ove you too daddy,” 

that night, when lila was peacefully sleeping cuddled up to her parents in bed, jamie and you quietly discussed how you were going to move forward. clearly, your new schedule wasn’t working.

when baby noah awoke the whole house with his cries, instead of letting lila pout in bed you and jamie brought her into the babys room with you guys. you took the extra time to show lila how she could be involved with the baby, and throughout the day you noticed her attitudes towards her brother had started to shift. she was no longer shying away from the baby, but instead was finding ways in which the whole family could play together. instead of laters, your days were filled with soft i love yous, and requests for lilas help when you couldn't get a minute away from the baby. that weekend, you found a sitter and you and jamie promised that you would always try and make time for “lila dates”, where you would spend a few hours hanging out with your girl. you never want lila to feel unloved again.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Welcome to a topsy-turvy Wet Beast Wednesday where I'm discussing one of my favorite cnidarians, the upside-down jellyfish. These are 8 species of jellyfish in the genus Cassiopea, which is the only member of the family Cassiopeidae. What makes these jellies notable is the fact that they spend most of their time lying upside-down on the seafloor.

(image: an upside-down jellyfish swimming. It has a light brown and white striped bell and multiple tentacles that are tuck and white. The tentacles branch and are lined with feathery, light brown structures)

While the majority of jellyfish are predators who drift through the water at the mercy of the currents, upside-down jellyfish have essentially become farmers. Their eight branched oral arms that contain symbiotic algae called zooxanthellae. These algae are photosynthetic and live in a mutualistic relationship with the jellyfish. The jellyfish gets food from the zooxanthellae and they get protection from predators and a place to live. Upside-down jellyfish can survive entirely on the nutrients produced by the zooxanthellae, but they will still feed on zooplankton and other small prey. Upside-down jellies are not the only jellyfish to utilize zooxanthellae, many other species also survive primarily on their symbiotic algae, but they are the only ones to have adapted the benthic lifestyle. They can reach a bell diameter of up to 25 cm (10 inches), or as one source for this stated: about the size of a pie pan.

(image: multiple upside-down jellyfish lying on sand. They are ov various sizes and mostly light brown, but have thicker, green tentacles sticking op)

Upside-down jellyfish are found in warm coastal waters in Florida and the Caribbean and in Micronesia, Melanesia, and parts of Polynesia. They require shallow waters to allow enough light to reach their zooxanthellae and are usually found on shady or muddy bottoms. They are highly associated with mangroves and may play an important role in the mangrove habitats by mixing the water to recirculate oxygen and nutrients. They are rarely found alone, instead congregating in large groups that can cover portions of the seafloor. They attach by using their bells as suction cups and rhythmically pulse using the edges of the bell. This pulsing forces water over the gills and can force zooplankton into the stinging cells to become food. Stung prey will fall on the oral tentacles, where it is broken down into fragments that are then intaken through the numerous tiny oral openings on the tentacles. Interestingly, some species have cycles of reduced movement, which is believed to be the first known example of sleep in an animal without a central nervous system. While upside-down jellies can swim, they will usually only do so to escape predators or if their environment becomes unsuitable.

(image: an upside-down jellyfish swimming. The majority of its body is light brown, but it has many tentacles that are dark blue and outlined in white)

While a very neat thing to see underwater, many snorkelers avoid upside-down jellyfish due to a phenomenon called stinging water. This is when people will receive the symptoms of a sting by the jellyfish without actually touching it. While the cause of this was a mystery for a long time, it was solved when a 2020 paper was published in Communications Biology by Ames et al. The scientists discovered that upside-down jellies release clumps of mucus into the water. This mucus is filled with zooxanthellae and stinging cells and many of these clumps also have ciliated cells that allow for limited swimming. These clumps, named cassiosomes, are the source of the stinging water. The paper, titled "cassiosomes are stinging-cell structures in the mucus of the upside-down jellyfish Cassiopea xamachana" speculated that the cassiosomes are used for defense and feeding. The cassiosomes could be released to sting a potential predator from a distance, discouraging it from approaching the jellyfish. Presumably snorkelers trigger this defense when they swim over the jellies, resulting in stinging water. They could also be used to catch prey as zooplankton killed by the stinging cells would have a high likelihood of falling onto the jelly that released them. Because the cassiosomes have zooanthellae in them, they could survive for likely up to several days after release.

(image: a microscope image of three cassiosomes. They are irregularly-shaped blobs somewhat similar to popcorn. They are a dark color with grey outlines. Spots of green algae and white stinging cells dot their surface)

Upside-down jellyfish are threatened by habitat loss as many mangrove forests are torn down for development. They are also threatened by pollution. They are not considered dangerous to humans. The sting of an upside-down jellyfish can result in mild to severe rashes and itching, but is not lethal.

(gif: a lone, light brown upside-down jellyfish on black sediment. The edge of its flat, circular bell regularly pulse upward to move air over its gills and tentacles. This one's pulsing has slowed, which is speculated to be the result of it going through its sleep cycle)

[grey342]

Teacher's pet

College Professor!Phil x reader

synopsis - Phil notices his favourite student struggling and offers her extra help after class.

warnings - MDNI 18+ content, age gap (reader is 20, Phil is in his late 30s), obsessive! reader, Phil whimpering, riding (kinda) and Oral (f receiving).

authors note - *insert 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa*. I LOVE this one sm! Let me know what your thoughts! Again thank you so much for being patient with me, I love every single one of you <3 P.S- The reader is VERY delusional but lets be fr we all are.

please do not steal my work - belongs to @grey342

You fucked up big time.

At first it was a typical high school girl crush but now you were full blown obsessed with him. Getting jealous whenever he talked to another female student or teacher, waking up at 4 am and getting fully ready for your 8 am class with him and finding any excuse to be close to him at all times.

He wasn't helping either.

It really seemed like he was reciprocating your feelings. Always checking up on you in and outside of class, always making you laugh, smiling at you and winking at you.

You didn't think it would become that big of a problem until your grades started to drop in his class. You were simply getting too distracted.

Like right now, you hadn't even noticed he was going around the class handing out your graded papers.

"F again," he sighs disappointedly, "what's going on honey? You never failed my class before and now you're failing every assignment I give you."

"I don't know Mr Wenneck." You say looking down, avoiding his gaze. You hate disappointing him.

"I do. I know exactly whats going on." He declares. You suck in a breath.

"Yo-You do." You gulp.

"Yep," he pauses, "you're over-complicating the work." You let out a breath of relief.

"Don't worry. This is an easy fix, we'll need to start one on one sessions at the end of the day."

"Oh okay." You squeak, trying to hide your excitement.

"Good. We'll start today, be here by 3:30." He winks and moves onto the person next to you.

When the bell rang, you didn't bother going to your second class. You went straight to your dorm to get ready for later. Hardly containing your eagerness.

...

It's exactly 3:30 when you knock on his door. He beckons you inside and you close the door behind you. Ensuring it's shut tight. This was the first time you would be fully alone together and you wanted no disruptions.

"Ah, right on time. Take a seat and i'll be right with you." He says smiling.

He grabs a few things from his desk and makes his way over to sit right next to you. You inhale and exhale quietly, trying to calm yourself down. But all you can think about is how close he is to you and what would happen if you moved your hand slightly ov-

“So,” he grunts, “let’s start with the first part of the topic and see which parts you’re struggling on the most. Mkay?” He asks.

“Um, yeah okay.” You say trying to sound more confident.

He starts explaining the content to you but all you can focus on is his hands. How big they are, how his veins slightly pop out and how they move when he talks. You were too entranced to notice he asked you a question. He was staring at you awaiting an answer.

"I-um sorry, can you repeat the question?" You spluttered out, slightly embarrassed.

He smirks and looks at you. You look down to avoid eye contact when you feel his hand come under your chin to lift your head up.

“Now honey, there’s no need to be nervous.” He says shaking his head in a comforting manner. You look into his eyes and before you can stop yourself, you lean in and press your lips to his.

You felt him slightly pull back out of shock but, in the same moment he leaned in full accepting the kiss. Your hands in his hair and his on your waist.

You pulled away to catch your breath and the realisation of what you just did slapped you in the face.

“Oh god, Mr Wenneck i’m s-”

“Call me Phil.” He cuts you off and captures your lips passionately. He grabs you and pulls you onto his lap. You grip on to his shirt pulling him impossibly closer. His hands rest on the plump of your ass, slowly guiding you back and forth. He pulls away, you're sharing breaths.

"I knew you felt the same," he lowly whispers, "I could tell. The way you'd get nervous talking to me, the lil' blush on your cheeks when i made eye contact with you." You feel your cheeks burn.

You feel the growing tent in his pants against our core. You gasp in both shock and delight. You look into his lust filled eyes and slowly begin to move back and forth. He lets out a sound of pleasure, you swear it was a whimper.

He leans in and begins to kiss at your jaw and neck, you sigh.

"So pretty.." He mumbles.

You feel his hands creep at the bottom of your shirt, bunching it up insisting he wants it off. You reach down and pull the shirt over your head revealing the lace bra underneath.

"Shit.." He breathes, you feel him grow beneath you. You reach down to unbuckle his belt when he picks you up and slams you on the desk. Emphasising his need for you.

He leans towards your chest and begins to kiss your boobs. His hands meet the waistband of your pants slightly tugging at them. He looks into your eyes and you give him a nod of approval.

He wastes no time in pulling them down along with your panties. He gets down onto his knees and spreads your legs, moaning at the sight in front of him. He moves forward, giving a gentle kiss to your cunt he then licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit.

"Oh god.."

"Not god baby, Phil.." You moan in response.

Slurping your juices like a man starved, his tongue thrusts deeper and deeper inside you. Your fingers gripping onto his hair to keep you grounded.

Without even realising you began to grind against his face, the pleasure taking over you. His lips are glued to your clit, sucking and kissing. His hands grab your legs and pull them over his shoulders, gripping on to your thighs keeping them spread.

"Oh shit Phil, right there.."

"Yeah, you like that?," he breathes heavily, "you like being a dirty lil' slut for your professor, hm?" You nod your head rapidly.

He began to suck harshly on your clit. Your back arches and your toes curl as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Fuck! Ye-Yes, right there shit.." Your almost screaming. You open your eyes to look at him, reassuring yourself this is all real and not another dream.

You look down to see him staring right back at you, he winks at you and slides his index and middle finger inside of you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"I'm gonna cum..." You warn as he pounds his fingers into you whilst sucking your clit.

"Cum for me baby, let go." He hummed.

In that moment you let go, the pleasure crashing over you. He groans against your pussy, not letting one drop of your cum spill.

He pulls your pants back up, puts your shirt back on and looks at you, checking your okay. He helps you stand and hands you your bag. He leans down and kisses you gently.

"Same time tomorrow honey." He smirks leaving you stunned.

You walk out of his classroom with the biggest grin on your face, excited for what tomorrow will bring.

[milksnake-tea]

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to. 

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble. 

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.” 

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it. 

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!” 

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice. 

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong? 

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

[schrodingerspsycho]

Meet Cut(e) - Chapter 1

Pairing - Tara Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2.6k

Summary - You run into a gorgeous girl at a coffee shop, and it feels like the perfect start to a movie.

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

You thanked the barista and turned on your heels, iced coffee in hand. You pulled out your phone to see how late you were for work when you slammed into someone. They grunted, and you cursed under your breath as you looked up at them.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly. Then your heart skipped a beat. In front of you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. She had her long black hair pulled into a ponytail, her bangs perfectly framing her face. Your eyes flicked down to her lips, and you realized she was even shorter than you. Her dark skin was sprinkled with freckles, and you felt a pull when you finally met her piercing gaze. “Sorry, I- I didn’t see you there,” you finally stuttered. Thankfully, she smiled.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, her voice filling your ears like a symphony. “I probably shouldn’t have been standing right behind you.” You swore her eyes darted downward, but you couldn’t be sure.

You both stood there grinning at each other like idiots for another moment. Then your phone dinged in your hand, startling you both out of your trance. “Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, glancing down at it. “I gotta run. I’m, like, really late for work.”

“Oh, of course, go,” she said, stepping out of your way and waving her hands toward the door.

“Sorry again,” you mumbled with a smile as you hurried past.

“Don’t worry about it, just go!” she laughed, still gesturing wildly. Her fingertips grazed the small of your back, and you felt electricity shoot through your veins. You stole one more glance at her as you skidded out the door, and found her still grinning at you.

“Holy shit,” you smiled to yourself as you fell back into a seat on the subway. Then you groaned. “The only meet-cute I’ve ever had, and I didn’t even get her name.”

You sighed as you leaned against the counter and gazed out at the empty tables. Weekdays were always slow, but no one had been in for hours. You had swept the floor and restocked the condiments five times already, and the pop music playing softly through the speakers was really starting to get to you.

Then, just as you turned to grab the rag and wipe down the tables again, the bell above the door chimed. You plastered a smile on your face and spun around. “Hi, welcome in!” you exclaimed, your cheery customer-service voice filling the empty lobby in a way your normal voice never could. The customer didn’t respond; they almost never did. She was too busy squinting up at the menu above your head. You knew from her body language alone it would be a while until she ordered. You shook your head and went back to fidgeting with the pen on the counter, glancing up to make sure you were ready when she was. Then you caught sight of her face, and your jaw dropped.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was the girl from the coffee shop that morning! Her hair was down now and her brow was furrowed in concentration, but you would’ve recognized her beauty anywhere. She still hadn’t looked at you, and you felt your cheeks grow warm as you tried to think of something to say.

“I’ll have the double cheeseburger- oh!” she said, cutting herself off. “It’s you! From the coffee shop!”

“Sure is,” you replied. “Did you follow me here or something?”

She laughed. “I must’ve seen your shirt and subconsciously known this was the best spot for lunch.”

“That’s just my expert marketing skills at work,” you smirked, winking dramatically. She laughed again. “The double cheeseburger, you said?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She shook her head. “The double cheeseburger with a small fry.”

“That’ll be $9.37,” you smiled, ringing up her order. She swiped her card and you handed her the receipt, a shiver running up your spine as your fingers brushed hers.

“Thank you,” she said, a little too loud. You watched as she walked over to the curved booth, the most annoying table to clean. But she looked back at you and smiled, and you decided you didn’t care if she spilled a whole bottle of ketchup on the floor.

Of course, that’s when two different families of five decided to walk in, followed by four elderly couples. Sure, time might’ve stopped for you and a pretty girl, but the lunch rush stops for no one. As you took the orders, the cute girl from the coffee shop slipped into the back of your mind. And when you finally got a moment to catch your breath, she had disappeared.

By the time school started, you had all but forgotten about the pretty girl from the month before. Preparing for your first year of college had taken up all of the space in your brain, as well as all of your free time. But now that you were sitting in the back of a classroom, staring at the mysterious stain on the wall, you could finally relax. It was the final class of your first day, and it was the one you had been the most excited about; film history. Spending three hours a week discussing the history of filmmaking hardly sounded like schoolwork. As the other students trickled in around you, you smiled to yourself, daydreaming about which silent film the class might watch first.

“Oh my god, Burgers? Is that you?”

You turned around to see the cute girl from a month ago smiling down at you, and your brain short-circuited. “Coffee Girl?” you exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”

“Me neither!” she said, sliding into the seat beside you. “My name’s Tara, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you again, Tara,” you grinned. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she chuckled. “So, are you a film major?”

“Film minor. My major is creative writing. What about you?”

“Film and political science.”

“Ah, a double major! Impressive,” you smirked, and for a moment you thought you saw her blush. “Well, I don’t know much about poli-sci, so what kind of movies are you into?”

“All kinds, but my favorite genre is horror,” she said, glancing down at her desk.

“Oh, nice! I love horror movies too. I’ve been watching as many as I can for the past year or so.”

“Why only a year?”

“I didn’t realize I liked horror movies until a year ago.”

“Wait, what?” She stared at you incredulously. “How did it take you so long to figure that out?”

“None of my friends or family are into horror, and as a kid, I was too scared of the possibility of being too scared to go to sleep.”

Tara laughed, covering her face with her hand apologetically. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, I’m actually that stupid,” you grinned.

“Alright, then what horror movie did you start with?”

“Cabin in the Woods.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one!”

“I know, right? It’s one of my favorites. But technically the first horror movie I ever watched was The Babysitter.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a Netflix movie,” you explained. “I watched it at a sleepover my freshman year of high school, but it’s a horror comedy. The kills are so exaggerated, I thought ‘This gore is so over-the-top, no one could ever be scared by this. It can’t be a horror movie.’”

Tara gaped at you. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” she laughed.

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed, nodding seriously. “But I’ve been making up for lost time, trying to get through all the classics.”

“Alright, which ones have you seen?”

“I think I’ve seen most of the iconic ones. Psycho, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, It, Child’s Play, Carrie… and I’ve been rambling about myself, I’m so sorry,” you chuckled, eyes darting to your lap. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Tara closed her eyes for a moment as if something had pained her. Then she smiled and shook her head. “The Babadook.”

“I love that movie!” you said. “The Babadook has such a good character design. But if I’m honest, I think I only watched it because of the bisexual Babadook meme.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that!” she exclaimed. “That’s actually hilarious.”

“And as a bisexual myself, I felt truly represented by the Babdook,” you joked, putting a hand over your heart in mock sentimentality. Tara laughed.

“I’m bisexual too, y’know,” she said.

“Really? Cool!” you grinned. “That’s why it’s your favorite movie, right?”

“Definitely.”

You smiled at each other as the professor finally called the class to attention, and you caught her sneaking glances at you as he explained the syllabus. But only because you were glancing at her too.

“Metropolis is going to be a great film to start with,” you exclaimed an hour later as you packed up your things.

“You’ve seen it?” Tara asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Like the professor said, it’s the first-ever feature-length science fiction movie. Did you know that the nazis cut out almost a quarter of the runtime after its release? And it wasn’t fully restored until 2010!”

“I didn’t know that. But now I don’t have to go to class on Friday, so thanks.”

“Sorry, it’s just one of my favorite silent films. I got excited.”

“You have favorite silent films?” Tara stared at you in disbelief. ��I don’t think I’ve ever even seen a silent film.”

“You don’t like old movies, huh?”

“Nope. If it came out before the seventies and it isn’t a Hitchcock film, it’s boring.”

“That is incredibly close-minded!” you cried, making her giggle. “What about The Wizard of Oz? Citizen Kane? Literally any Disney movie before The Aristocats?”

“Okay, I can’t deny The Wizard of Oz or Disney,” she conceded. “But Citizen Kane is boring as shit.”

“What?!” A few people stared at you, but you didn’t notice. Tara seemed to be enjoying your outburst. “How can you say that? Citizen Kane is known as the greatest movie of all time!”

“I’m pretty sure The Godfather is considered the greatest movie of all time,” she smirked.

“Okay, fair point. But still!”

Tara shrugged. “I just don’t like old movies.”

“I guess everyone’s entitled to their own opinions,” you sighed. “Even if your opinion is wrong.”

“Says the person who took eighteen years to figure out they loved horror movies.”

“Oh, wow,” you said dramatically. “I told you that in confidence.”

She shrugged again. “It’s on you for trusting me.”

“Believe me, lesson learned. I’ll never trust you again, you fiend!”

Tara laughed.

“Well, it’s the end of the road. I’m headed that way,” she said as you reached the crosswalk, pointing away from your apartment. “I’ll see you in class, Burgers.”

“Is that a nickname, or did you just forget what my name is?”

“I remember,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. You raised your eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? What’s my name then?”

She stared at the ground, hesitating. “It’s…”

“Y/N,” you told her.

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled, deciding to be merciful when you saw her face flush in embarrassment. “I’ll see you around, Coffee Girl.”

“Hey!”

“I didn’t forget,” you interjected. “I just think Coffee Girl sounds better than Tara.”

“Oh, you’re an asshole,” Tara grinned.

“Yeah, I’m the worst,” you winked. “See you around, Tara.”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking stupid.” Tara slammed her backpack down onto her desk and stared at you accusingly.

“Hello to you too, Tara,” you greeted. “May I ask what I did to deserve that incredibly rude assessment of my intelligence?”

“Sorry,” she grinned, sliding into her chair. “It’s just… I watched The Babysitter the other night. How?”

You chuckled. “I told you I was stupid. So what did you think?”

“It was great. Absolutely hilarious. And obviously a horror movie!”

“Are you just trying to get me to say that I’m stupid again?”

“Yeah, your self-deprecating humor is great. And deserved, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Maybe so, but you’re still no match for my expert marketing skills,” you smirked. “All I had to do was mention that movie and you watched it.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Did you watch the sequel?”

“There’s a sequel?”

“Yeah! It’s called The Babysitter: Killer Queen,” you explained. “It’s way funnier and stupider than the original, but they also added lore. And it worked. Trust me, that movie has no right to be as good as it is.”

“Alright, we’ll have to watch it sometime,” she grinned.

You nodded in agreement as Professor Johnson started class. Then a few moments later, your heart skipped a beat.

Did she say ‘we’?

Professor Johnson started with a presentation about the ‘Dawn of Filmmaking’, asking questions to gauge how much the class already knew. You answered as many as you could, which was admittedly very unlike you. You convinced yourself it was because you were trying to be more outgoing in college, and not because of the way your heart fluttered every time Tara smiled at you when you got a question right. Then halfway through the class, he pivoted to explaining the history of Metropolis and the aspects he wanted everyone to focus on for the discussion on Monday. You leaned over and whispered “I told you so,” to Tara when he began explaining the censorship and lost footage.

“So, are you any more excited to watch Metropolis now?” You asked when class ended.

“I wouldn’t say excited. Maybe… dreading it less,” she replied. You chuckled.

“Well, I guess that’s something.”

“Why are you so into old movies, anyway?”

“I used to watch them all the time with my grandpa,” you said, glancing at the ground with a small smile. “He babysat me a lot when I was little, and he would tell me all about his favorite movies. And I mean sure, the effects aren’t as good and they aren’t politically correct, but I think it’s fascinating to see how artists used the new medium to tell their stories.”

“That sounds really nice,” she said softly. “Watching them with your grandpa, I mean. And that might be a really interesting way to think about boring old movies.”

“Aww, Tara, did you just compliment me?”

“I take it back.”

“Nope! You think I’m interesting,” you teased.

“Sure I do,” she said sarcastically. Then when you reached the crosswalk she turned and held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“I’m going to put my number in. I’m sending you some horror movie recommendations, you can’t just watch Frankenstein and The Wolf Man on repeat. You need guidance.”

“What makes you think I want your recommendations? Or your phone number for that matter?” you asked, handing her your phone.

“Because,” she said, and you watched her type in her name. “I’ve got great marketing skills too.”

You scoffed at her, a dumb grin spreading on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tara asked, sounding slightly self-conscious.

“It’s just, you’re really cool and I wasn’t expecting to make a friend so soon. I thought I would go a whole semester without making any college friends.”

“Well, technically we met before school started, so I don’t count. You still haven’t made any friends in college.”

“Dammit!” you exclaimed, stomping your foot. Tara laughed. “Does that mean I’m still a friendless loser?”

“The biggest loser I’ve ever met.”

“At least I’m the best at something.”

She chuckled again as she handed you back your phone, then her eyes turned soft. “I’m glad we’re friends now, too.”

“Even though I’m a loser?”

“Despite that fact, yeah,” she grinned. “I’ll see you on Monday, Y/N.” She gave you a little wave before going on her way, a slight spring in her step. 

“Bye, Tara!” you called after her, smiling to yourself. Then you looked down at your phone and saw she had sent herself a burger emoji.

[blocky-tides]

@mcytbuildsmonth day 20 — CHURCH PRIME; I HAVE PRAYED IN YOUR HALLOWED HALLS, DIPPED MY HANDS IN BLOOD AND SWEAT, TOLL YOUR BELLS. (can i have a soft death?)

@cemeterything / @goudogs / ilya kaminsky / trista mateer / karl ove knausgaard / antoine de saint-exupérry / @sugarcanewt / anne carson

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Fifteen - Serendipitously

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

“Swin…ging his ax… ab…ove his head… The… col… col…col…” Changbin hesitates in his reading, paused at a single word.

True to your word, the two of you continued lessons on reading and writing whenever you had a chance. He picked up on everything so fast, he hardly needed your help anymore. But every now and then, there would be a word or two that tripped him up.

Sitting at the same corner of the table in his quarters, you look down at the book splayed out on the table.

“Ah,” you say, seeing what word he was stopped on. “Colonel. It is a tricky one and there is absolutely no reason for it to be spelled that way.”

Changbin nods sheepishly and continues on, picking up where he left off. “The Colonel brought it down upon the prisoner’s neck, ex… ex-e-cu-ting swift just…ice– justice in front of his p…eople.”

It’s been three weeks since Miroh’s victory at Fort Mire. Since that time, a larger garrison of troops arrived and Changbin has been sending them out to overtake smaller strongholds along the border of Bewaes, just as Chan told him to. 

Once the army takes over the stronghold, they set up a garrison and camp out there.

Each time a legion has been deployed, you go with them for the battle. But, each time, you return to Fort Mire.

It has become Miroh’s top base and point of contact as new soldiers arrive.

Another attack was scheduled to leave at first light to march out to a camp north west of Fort Mire.

This will be the fourth camp overtaken if all goes well.

Erbus’ troops have been falling easily– too easily.

After the third victory, alarm bells began ringing in your head. It’s not that Miroh was not strong enough to deliver these sort of victories, no. It was that Erbus was not the type of hold to take these losses lying down.

Changin had instructed Jeongin to stay at the second military camp, Bonereach Blockade. He was put in charge of his own small battalion there. You haven’t seen him in almost eleven days.

Since your arrival in Miroh, this has been the longest stretch of time you’ve gone without seeing the squire. Not a day goes by where you don’t miss his boyishly charming self.

“I will see you soon, then.”

You never were good with goodbyes; always found them awkward and sometimes too emotional. You’re a big fan of leaving without saying anything. But, people have expressed in the past how rude that it can be. Oh, well.

Jeongin stares down at you with a sad smile. A long sigh leaves his nose.

You were to make the day-long trek back to Fort Mire by yourself and you were not looking forward to it.

Ever since that first night, the two of you have been attached at the hip. Stealing kisses left and right, spending whatever time you could with one another. 

Not there was much time to do that with all the preparation to be done.

Training had been different, that much is for sure.

“I look forward to it, Y/N.”

You had helped him set up his tent. It was rather grand, you don’t even know if you could just call it a ‘tent’. A full sized bed as well as a desk and a table fit inside.

The commander of a camp gets the master tent.

Earlier, you had teased Jeongin, telling him that perhaps he should invest in laying out a rug. He laughed off your joke and told you not to be jealous.

Just the two of you stood inside, the sun had risen about two hours ago. Really, you need to get going if you want to make it back to Fort Mire by sundown 

He takes steps closer to you until your chests are practically touching, sparkling brown eyes gazing down at you.

“I thank you for giving me your time, mercenary.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “You say that as if I will not do so again.” 

Jeongin chuckles and wraps both of his arms loosely around your waist. Your hands come up and rest on the soft fabric of his tunic, fingers picking at the pills in the cloth.

“I know for certain that I am not the only man pining for your attention, Y/N.” He whispers down to you. 

One of your eyebrows raise and you look at him curiously. Jeongin only shakes his head and dips down to meet your lips in a soft, meaningful kiss. 

Your hands slide up his chest and your arms wind around his neck. 

He pulls away first, kissing each corner of your mouth, your nose, and then your forehead. “Be safe, Y/N. I hope to see you soon.”

Since then you’ve kept yourself busy, helping Changbin around the keep.

Surprisingly, you’ve spent more time with Hyunjin as well. On nights where you find yourself awake in the wee hours of the morning, you’ll wander down to the courtyard and find him reading in front of a fire or practicing a new spell.

The two of you never speak, you just sit in silence with one another, basking in the other’s presence. 

“I never thought about doing an attack like that.” Changbin says to you, bringing your mind back to the present.

“I am sorry, what did you say?”

He’s still looking down at the book on the table. “The character in this book, he swung his ax over his head to create momentum on a downward strike. I never thought about doing that.” He shifts around on his chair, obviously excited.

“See? I told you that there is a plethora of information you can discover by reading books.” You can’t help but smile at him.

“Aye, once again, you were correct.” Changbin looks away from the book and up at you. “I cannot thank you enough for having patience with me, Y/N.”

You reach across the table and place your hand on top of his. “You do not need to thank me, Changbin. It is a pleasure to teach you.”

He flips his hand over on the table; his thick fingers play around with yours absentmindedly. The heat coming off his hand is comfortable and draws your attention. 

Changbin stares at your face for a moment longer before looking back down at the book again.

“What is this word?” He points down at the page.

“Which one?”

You scoot your chair even closer to his and peer down at the pages. Your shoulder brushing against his.

Both of you wore comfortable, easy clothes; tunics and soft pants. It was uncomfortable to wear your armor everywhere. 

Humming, you read where he was pointing at the book. “Try to sound out the letters, this one is not so difficult.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, his fingers coming up to grasp yours playfully. A warm laugh bubbles from your chest.

“I am serious,” you tease. “Attempt it.”

Changbin looks back down at the book, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he scans over the letters. “S… Ser… en… end…” He pauses, “endip… serendip…”

“You are doing so well,” you encourage in a whisper. “Keep going.”

Imperceptibly, he squirms a little at your praise. 

You’re no longer looking down at the book on the table, you’re staring at the side of his head. Changbin’s lips purse in concentration, the grip on your hand tightens and his knee bounces anxiously. 

You squeeze his fingers in fortitude.

“Ser– endip– pit… pit…”

“Remember that ‘t-o-u-s’ makes a ‘ tous’ sound.”

“Serendipi… tous… ly.”

“Now, put it all together.”

“Serendipi…tously. Serendipitously. Serendipitously? Serendipitously!” Changbin shouts excitedly after he’s read the entire word.

Your smile grows impossibly bright and you let out another cheer for him. “Yes! See? Not so hard!”

Changbin squeezes your hand even tighter and pulls it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his. The feeling shoots all the way up your arm and through your shoulder.

Goosebumps raise over your flesh and a blush spreads over your cheeks.

He’s too busy celebrating his small victory to notice how much of an effect that kiss had on you. 

“At this rate, I will not need another general to read me the correspondence from Chan.” He smiles back down at the book, a wistful expression on his face.

“Aye, you will.” His dark hair had fallen in front of his eyes. You reach forward and brush his bangs away. The soft strands fall over your fingers.

Changin’s dark brown eyes flicker over to you, they catch the light coming from the candle on the table. 

“Then, you will be able to read the tomes of old warriors where they discuss their preferred battle strategies.” Your fingers drop from his face and down to your lap, but your other hand stays clasped within his own. “And perhaps, you can write down yours for future military commanders to read long after you are gone from this world.”

He grins, suddenly shy, and looks down at his lap. “I never considered the idea of immortalizing my life in that way.”

“That is because you are too humble, Sir Seo.” You squeeze his hand, the blush on his cheeks darkens a bit. “In years to come, people will sing songs of your greatness. Children will play in the streets with their wooden swords and they will fight over who gets to be you in their fantasies.”

“My victories are not so great.”

“Perhaps not yet.” You chuckle, “You have so much life left to live, so many great battles to win. A year ago the story of Seo Changbin would not have been as thick of a book as it is now. And who knows what will become of those pages by this time next year, next month even.”

Finally, his eyes lift from his lap and look into yours. His cheeks are impossibly red and his eyes impossibly sparkly. He gazes at you as if you hung the moon yourself. 

“You flatter me, Y/N.”

“I only speak the truth, Changbin.”

He picks up your hand and holds it with both of his; his fingers playing with yours absentmindedly again. 

“Would you read my tales?”

“Who says I am not going to write some of them?”

He leans closer to you.

“Would you sing my songs?”

“I would lead the revelry in the inn in your honor.”

His laugh is hearty and kind. Once more, he brings your hand up to his lips, but this time, it is much more purposeful. 

Changbin’s eyes stay locked with yours as he presses the kiss to your skin. You beam at him, and deep down you hope that your eyes are sparkling just like his. His pillowy lips are so soft against your skin.

The flame of the candle dances around in the reflection of his pupils.

Three knocks on the door breaks your eye contact with Changbin. Annoyance causes his eyebrow to twitch and he gently drops your hand.

“Come in!” He calls.

A sight for sore eyes walks into the room.

“Jisung! I was not expecting to see you.” Changbin says, standing up from the table and walking over to the man happily.

You rise from your chair as well, smiling at him.

“It is good to see you too, Changbin.”

The two men clasp forearms in a warm greeting. 

“I did not expect to see you anywhere near the front lines.”

“I have actually come to retrieve something for our Jarl.” Jisung explains to Changbin.

“What is it?”

Jisung looks over at you with a sly smile. “I am here for our mercenary.”

Oh, that’s right. You were to return to Miroh in a month after your original departure. 

“Has it been a month already?” you ask. 

“Just about, Chan gets antsy, I am afraid.”

You shift around on your feet. “But the battle in the morning.”

Changbin raises his hand to stop you. “We can manage without you, Y/N.”

You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “Perhaps, but your victories will not be as speedy or magnificent.”

Both men laugh at your joke.

“I would like to be on the road soon, Y/N, if that is alright.” Jisung says to you.

Reluctantly, you nod. “Aye, I can have my things collected within the hour.”

“That is perfect, I will meet you out in the courtyard then.”

Jisung nods his head to both of you and leaves through the door, leaving you and Changbin by yourselves in the room.

A deep sigh leaves your lungs and you look down at the book on the table. 

“Do not sigh like that,” Changbin chides, “I am certain you will be back after you are finished with whatever Chan needs from you.” 

“I sure hope that our Jarl allows me to return.”

“He will. I also doubt he will be able to keep you from returning.”

A semi-awkward silence falls over the two of you. You bite your lip anxiously and look around the room, anywhere but at him.

“I will be off then. Best not to keep Jisung waiting.” 

You made to move past him, but a soft call of your name made you pause directly next to him, your shoulders brushing.

Changbin turned and looked at you with a flush crawling up his neck. His eyes tracing over each one of your features with a kind warmth. He looks as though he’s trying to memorize each curve of your face.

“Please be safe, Y/N.”

You grin, “I should be saying that to you, Changbin.”

Looking down at the ground, you let thoughts churn in your mind for a moment before turning and quickly wrapping your arms around his chest.

By The Six, he smells so lovely; so earthy and fresh. Rainwater on freshly blooming flowers. Like you fell asleep in a meadow and woke up with the sun and dew covers all of the lily pads in the pond.

Heat radiates through his tunic and leeches onto your skin.

Changbin emits a small gasp of surprise, but he immediately wraps his arms around you in return. 

For a man who has arms like tree trunks, his embrace is so soft. Your cheek presses to his chest and you can hear the powerful thuds of his heartbeat.

Its drumbeat sends wave after wave of reassurance.

“I do beseech you to look after yourself in the coming battles, Changbin.”

“I will.”

His voice rumbles through his chest and you feel the vibrations against your ear. Tightening your arms around his body, you press your face further into his fresh scent.

He chuckles and rubs one hand up and down your back in a comforting manner. 

“Who would have thought the mercenary would develop a soft spot for her commander?”

You pull away from him slightly and level a blank look at him. “Do not get cocky.”

Changbin pats your back and laughs. “Of course, of course.”

Reluctantly, you pull away from him and take a few steps towards the door. You clear your throat awkwardly and shuffle your weight around.

The commander just stands there, staring at you with that amused smirk on his lips.

“... Do not die.” You say one last time and open the door, shutting it behind you. But, you were still able to hear the hearty laugh that Changbin let out from behind the wood.

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

“If only Hyunjin came with us, we would not need flint to start a fire.” Jisung complains under his breath. 

He’s crouched down next to you, watching as you strike the flint rocks against one another over the pile of firewood and dry leaves.

“If Hyunjin came with us, perhaps the flints would not have been dropped in the river.” You mumble, hitting the rocks together over and over. 

“I did not do it purposefully!”

“Sure.”

Despite the words on the harsher side, the air around the two of you is anything but. Every time you’ve been around him, Jisung always gives off such a comfortable aura. 

Night had fallen just about two hours ago. You both continued on the road for a bit longer until you decided to set up camp for the night. 

“Wet flint should still spark.”

You sputter at his statement. “That is not true.”

“It is.”

You hold out the flint towards him. “Would you like to prove me wrong, then?”

Jisung looks down at the flint, then back up at you, “... Nay.”

“That is what I thought.” You turn back to the firewood and strike the flints over and over again.

Eventually, the rock will dry enough to spark, but it was only about an hour ago that they were dropped into the water. 

Jisung watches you in silence, his body crouched down, arms wrapped around his shins. His nose twitches every once in a while. 

There was only about three minutes of silence before he spoke up again.

“How have the battles been?” 

“Have you not read the correspondence?”

“I have, but I wanted to hear it in your own words.”

You stop hitting the flints for a moment, keeping your eyes cast downwards. “They have been entirely successful. Victory after victory for Miroh.”

“For someone who has been taking part in these victories, your voice is downtrodden.”

Your brows furrow and you bite your lip, weighing your words carefully. Your fingers readjust their grip on the flints.

“It is not that I doubt Miroh’s skill,” you start. “But I have seen Erbus’ forces before. These victories… They are coming too easily. A voice in my mind is calling for attention, it is saying we are overlooking something, that we are blind to an attack to come.”

Jisung watches you carefully, his boots shuffle in the dirt as he readjusts his crouched stance. 

You continue on. “Erbus has a higher rank of deadly warriors. I have not seen a single one in all the battles we have fought. These soldiers are marked by two triangles interlocked with one another. It is usually branded into their skin. They’re called the Mercy Division. 

“You most likely saw these soldiers the night that you saw soldiers attack those Elves in Erbus. The Mercy Division is typically the group that handles the execution of Elves.”

Jisung looks down at the firewood, his face twisting in distress at the memory.

Swallowing, you pick the flint back up in your hands and strike them against one another even harder.

“Ironic, is it not? The ‘Mercy Division’ causes the most agony and shows none of this so-called ‘mercy’.”

Memories of screams pierce through your brain and your muscles tense. With one particularly rough strike of flint, the sparks fly and land in the brush.

A small fire lights in your campfire.

Both you and Jisung jump to action, blowing air on the small fire to keep it alive. Quickly, it catches and spreads to the logs you placed upon it.

Relief floods through both you and Jisung at the sight.

The two of you stand up and begin shuffling around your tiny campsite. You both set up your bedrolls directly next to the fire to bask in its warmth. You’ve set them up so that when you’re laying down, your heads will be by one another but still both surrounding the fire.

“First light, then?” you ask.

“Aye,” he answers. “Three more days ahead of us after that.”

You nod and scoot down into your bed roll, enveloping yourself in the familiar warmth. You hadn’t slept in this fabric since you shared it with Hyunjin. Heat creeps onto your cheeks at the memory.

Ever since that night, you’ve been able to sleep normally. But still, those few short hours were the most restful you’ve had in years.

Your eyes watch the flames dance around the log, the wood pops and some embers fly around in the air. 

“Y/N?” Jisung calls timidly. You hum in response. “What happened to you in Erbus?”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

“That day in the throne room,” Jisung’s voice is weak and wistful. “You spoke about the cruelty of Erbus towards Elves in great detail. Plus, you know all about the Mercy Division. What happened to you?”

Neither of you look at one another, you’re both watching the fire. Despite your heads being mere inches from one another.

You were lying on your left side, Jisung on his right. 

You didn’t speak for a long moment, all of the memories died on your tongue and turned your stomach when you thought about them for too long.

“I apologize, you do not need–”

“It is alright.” You whisper. “It is not a pleasant bedtime story, Jisung.”

“I was always more of a fan of scary campfire stories, anyway.”

His small joke manages to sneak a smirk from you.

“Are you certain you would like to know?”

“Aye. Hearing these stories ignites a fire within me.”

You watch the fire for another couple of moments trying to gather your thoughts.

“I had only seen nine winters when it happened,” you begin. “We had lived in a tiny cottage hidden in the woods. It was only a six minute walk to the lake, three if you ran, two if you were late to dinner.”

Jisung hums a laugh.

“It was just my mother, my father, and I in that one room cottage. My mother was a human, my father was a pureblood Elf. We were so happy for those first nine years. I would go into Erbus’ capital all the time for school and to play with other children; my mother would barter and buy our groceries. My father always stayed home.

“Back then, I knew that I was not allowed to talk about my father, but I did not know why, nonetheless I did not speak of him to anyone else. Whenever we went into the city, my mother would make sure my hair was down and covering my ears. She even made me a cloak with a hood that I could keep up over my head during the winter months.”

You wore that cloak everywhere. It was a beautiful dark green color that made you feel as though you could blend in with the trees.

“I am not certain how it happened. I will never know if we were ratted out by someone in the city or if someone somehow spotted my father, but the Mercy Division showed up one night. My father had caught a glimpse of them through the window as they were marching up to the cottage. He grabbed me from the bed, pulled up the floorboards with his own two hands and placed me in the crawl space underneath the house.

“Both him and my mother kissed my cheeks one last time. They told me under no circumstances am I to leave until the next morning. My father told me to close my eyes and cover my ears and do not make any noise, no matter what, do not make a sound. Do not weep, do not gasp, do not scream, nothing.”

Your throat tightens, the words coming out more strained with each passing moment. 

This is the first time you’ve ever talked about this. It’s the first time you were able to. The first time someone’s ever asked. 

“Jisung… I will never forget what happened in my family’s cottage that night.”

He flinches. As if you could feel his sorrow, it wafts over to you. Tears build up in your ducts and your eyes begin to burn.

“The Mercy Division. Five of them came to my door. They kicked it down and grabbed both of my parents. My mother and father screamed, begged, pleaded, prayed for benevolence. My father asked that my mother be let go, she was a human, not an Elf, why does she need to be punished?”

Your stomach does a cartwheel.

“‘A human, eh?’ One soldier said. He grabbed my mother by the hair and threw her onto the ground. Two other soldiers held my father’s arms. They did exactly what they did to the women in that village, Jisung. They all took turns with her, violating her body right in front of my father’s eyes. She sobbed so hard she vomited several times, but it did not deter them until they were all satisfied. ”

The tears finally fell and you bare your teeth, gritting to keep the sobs at bay.

“Once they were done they pulled her apart piece by piece, I can still smell it.”

A sob wracks your body and you curl in on yourself in the bedroll.

“I can hear my father screaming until his vocal chords finally collapsed. Then they had their sick fun torturing my father, cut off his ears and shoved them down his throat. Scalped his head and kept him alive as long as they could to prolong the misery.”

Jisung shuffles around in his bedroll for a moment, but your vision is so blurred from the tears rolling out of your eyes that you don’t focus on it.

“I tried so hard to block out the sound, but hands can only do so much.” This last sentence is whispered. “And I had to keep quiet, swallow each cry and bite down every scream of terror. Some nights I sit and wonder what they would have done to me if my father did not hide me. What would they do to a nine year old girl? My imagination runs wild…”

There’s a sudden presence at your back. You feel the fabric of your bedroll being shifted around and a wave of heat overtake you.

Arms wrap around your waist and bring your body back flush against a strong chest.

More and more sobs wrack your chest, Jisung only holds you tighter.

“Apologies,” you sob. “I do not mean to cry like this, I–”

“Hush,” he whispers into your hair and curls around you like a safety blanket. “It is alright to cry.” He sniffles, letting out a sob of his own.

Just like back in the throne room, Jisung cries for these Elven lives that he did not know.

Your sobs are silent, the physical effects of them are the only sign that you’re crying. Your chest stutters and your breathing is extremely shaky.

Through it all, Jisung stays wrapped around your body, unwavering and delivering silent comfort. 

Eventually, your cries calmed down.

“I stayed awake all night in shock. I do not remember a single moment from when they left to when the sun rose. But when my mind eventually began working once more, they were gone. The only evidence that the events did occur was their blood staining the floorboards.”

One of Jisung’s hands move from around your waist and rest on your arm, rubbing up and down soothingly. 

“I left the cottage and lived on the streets of Erbus’ capital. Begged for gold to eat, and if I could not afford food, I would scavenge the garbage dumps behind the tavern. I think the chef knew what I was doing, some nights full meals would miraculously show up on the cobblestone.”

“And eventually you learned to swing a sword?”

“Aye, there was a fighter’s guild in the city. I would watch them train in the yard for hours. I had a crush on one of the swordsmen.”

You laugh weakly and Jisung does so as well from behind you.

“He was one of the best fighters I have ever seen. Most of the fighting techniques I know now are from watching and mirroring him.”

“What happened to him?”

You hum wistfully. “I am not sure. He left for a job one day and never came back.” You adjust your head on your bedroll. “They held no funeral, so I am not sure if he was killed or simply did not return. But, one day one of his swords was left outside like trash.”

Your head lifts and cranes towards the sword sitting against your pack.

“It is a nice sword,” you laugh and drop your head back to the ground. 

Jisung’s fingers dance along your arm. Then, he wraps it around you once more. His face buries in your neck and his knees tuck behind yours.

Both of your bodies are molded together completely.

This should feel awkward, odd, and completely off-putting. But, it’s not.

Instead, your body sinks backwards and falls into his sincerity. You’ve only been around him a few times, and each time his kind eyes always find yours.

Never once has the man behind you made you feel uncomfortable or lesser than him. Even on the first day he met you in Miroh’s Keep.

When Guatier had insulted your intelligence, Jisung’s eyes sparked with his own annoyance that rivaled your own.

Trust is gained slowly, but for some reason, he has had yours from the beginning. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to open up to him tonight.

Both of you sit in silence, you feel every inhale and exhale, both from his chest against your back and the small puffs of air fanning out over the nape of your neck.

Another log pops, neither of you flinch.

After a long while, you feel Jisung’s breathing even out, the movements of his chest become shallower and his exhales deeper.

You smile weakly and snuggle backwards towards his warm body.

The bedroll felt empty with only one person, anyway.

[honeyuuyuu]

Ove in a tux 🥺🥺

"This good enough for you, sweet freak?~"

@call-me-aesthetic hey-

[softichill]

The Sounds of Nightmares unofficial transcript

Chapter 2 - A Penance at the Bathouse

(created in collaboration with @queen0fm0nsterz !!!!!!)

Chapter 1

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

[Click]

[Rewind sound]

OTTO: During our fourth session, developments in Noone’s case unearthed echoes of past failures. The girl recalled a familiar figure. 

[Click, Otto plays the tape]

Recording of NOONE: “The Candleman stood before me, on the rooftop. He wore… a long filthy jacket. His presence… it reminded me of… when the tide goes out.”

[Click, Otto pauses the tape]

OTTO: An uncanny sense of deja-vu, for Noone has seemingly encountered my Cici’s [distorted] Ferryman. I thought him lost forever. Yet, if true, he’s somehow found a way back to where he began. And who is he? Some deranged bedlamite? A mutual dreaming savant, invading the nightmares of innocents? It seems absurd. All I know for certain is that I must dig deeper. 

[tape rewinding]

[Intro plays]

[Various clicking]

OTTO: This is the Counselor, tape number 57, session number 4, patient number… Hm, patient Noone. [Tapping and shifting]

OTTO: I was presumptuous. Judgemental. Now I feel it’s paramount to prioritize Noone’s treatment over several other cases, due to demonstration of abnormal neurological faculties. [Shifting sounds] To dissent her further, today I’ll venture an unconventional method. [something electric is turned on]

[Beeping. Otto sighs]

OTTO: Admittedly dated, but this device should help attain further clarity. 

[Beeping alts. Audio cuts]

[Steps, pages shuffling. Someone knocks on the door]

OTTO: (cheery) Please, come in! 

[Door creaks open and closes]

OTTO: How are we doing today, Noone?

NOONE: Otto, what happens to a stone that has overcome its greatest fear? 

OTTO: You’re… telling a joke?

NOONE: Yes, but I never got the punchline.

OTTO: I’ll have to think about that –

NOONE: Hey, look! A moth!

[Otto shifts to look]

NOONE: We went on vacation once, under my doctor’s advice. Swarms of moths gathered around that balcony each night. They fascinated me, their little ways! How they just… existed. I collected them in mum’s plastic jars. 

OTTO: Well, this might be a good time to tell me about your mother. 

NOONE: …I’d rather not. Mum didn’t share my enthusiasms for crawlies. But moths were my favorite, drawn to light under some kind of spell.

OTTO: Perhaps you see a bit of yourself in the moth. Vulnerable, caught in the spotlight. The fame you received after the cure –

NOONE: I don’t feel cured. At all.

OTTO: …You feel you’re still in the dark?

NOONE: Yes. But I like to try to fly towards the light.

OTTO: [Hum] Then let me be that guiding light. And eventually, together, we’ll leave your darkness behind. 

NOONE: How you said that… reminds me of the place I visited.

OTTO: On your vacation?

NOONE: No. Last night, in my dream.

OTTO: Let’s make sure you’re comfortable before jumping in.

NOONE: Oh, I feel at ease. Calm even. Can I tell you about it?

OTTO: If you like, then I suppose you could –

NOONE, narrating: I awoke to wet air on a rooftop. 

NOONE: Peeking over the ledge, I saw an ocean, stretching all the way to the horizon. On the nearest shore, giant fish-like contraptions crawled out from the waves, and from their mouths, plump men and women emerged. Faces hidden behind wooden masks, bodies tucked away beneath mucky brown robes. Some used sticks to labour up the long winding boardwalk leading from the beach to the lantern-lit market below. 

[Bells and steps]

NOONE: Their destination was behind me. A distant, crooked bathhouse. A voice whispered, “Hey!”, and I turned to see a grubby, breathless boy stepping off a ladder. He dressed in tatty shorts and… shirt covered in pin badgers. He said, 

JESTER, overlapping with NOONE: “Do you know a way out of here?”

NOONE: I told him I was equally lost, but he insisted on traveling together. He went on,

JESTER, (ov. with NOONE): “Other kids call me Jester, because I never run out of jokes. I can tell you some along the way!” 

NOONE: I didn’t reply, so he blurted,

JESTER (ov. with NOONE): “Uhm, a man tells his friend to stop looking for the perfect match…” 

NOONE: But, he stopped. I could tell he realized that parts of him… were missing. As if… just being here… [slimy, crawling sound] was changing him. I realized something too: my headache was gone. Jester yelled out,

JESTER (ov. with NOONE): “Oh! He tells him to… use a lighter!”

[Otto interrupts the narration]

OTTO: Then this boy was the impetus for your joke! [Shifting] You met a child in your nightmare prior, but this one sounds far more… normal. 

NOONE: He looked like the kids from school, only… kinder. The ones at school teased me. Well, until I fell ill. After the water sickness, the same children who made me dread walking through these rotten gates began sucking up. But I’ve always been the same me. 

NOONE: Funny. I feel less me now than before.

OTTO: Children can be cruel. I had my share of tormentors in adolescence. 

NOONE: Really?

OTTO: It’s regrettably common. [Shifting] Tell me what happened next.

NOONE, narrating: Jester pulled my arm. “Look”, he said, pointing me to long planks of wood laid down like bridges between the rooftops. …Other children had traveled this path before.

OTTO: Other children? [Otto writing]

NOONE: The walkways had been placed there. They were too narrow for those swollen adults below. It must have been other children, and Jester – he was real too. [Writing] I felt his presence just as I feel yours here in this room. [Pause] Could that… be the dream sharing you spoke of?

OTTO: Let’s not leap to assumptions. Go on. The planks?

[Pause. Sounds of slow steps on wood]

NOONE, narrating:  We carefully walked each one, building to building. [Steps on terrain and wood, as well as faint bells] Below, the masked figures continued their walk too. Every now and then, a traveler would leave their place in line to take goods from the many merchants who’d offered all manner of soaps and perfumes. Their flowery smells mixed with… the fishy stench, pouring from the chimneys of the bathhouse…

[walking and bells continue]

NOONE: When we reached our final building, our only option was to head down the long ladder, sneaking around the side into an alleyway below. Jester was the nervous sort, so, I did my best to stir his courage and asked, [overlapping] “Have you another joke?”, and he replied,

JESTER (ov. with NOONE): “Oh, right! What happens to a stone that has overcome its greatest fear?”

NOONE: And there it was again. That… lost look. Like granny used to get. I asked him, [overlapping] “You don’t remember?” And Jester simply said,

JESTER (ov. with NOONE): “I’ll know it by the time I reach the bottom.”

NOONE: But, before I could follow… something called out from across the rooftop. A muddled voice, and then… I saw him. That man with- the impossible face. The same one from the room of glass jars, the – I can never focus on him!

[Narration stops]

OTTO: Noone, I need you to recall fine details.

NOONE: I told you!

OTTO: Especially when speaking of persons you’ve seen multiple times. Recurrence implies significance. 

NOONE: He’s a… broken mirror. Or a photograph all torn up. Impossible to piece back together.

OTTO: I have something. [Otto gets up from his chair, steps] A magic glue for your mind. 

[Steps, shifting, Otto sets the device up. Beeping and buzzing.]

NOONE: I don’t want to wear that.

OTTO: (immediately) You must. If you cannot remember specifics then I cannot help you. I must know about this mystery figure, I… simply must. 

[Shifting]

NOONE: Um… Alright then. 

[Noone puts on the device. Everything except Noone’s voice becomes slightly muffled]

NOONE: [pause] A pendant?

OTTO: This belonged to someone very important. Gazing into its spiral always gave me relief. I found it can be used to offer my patients that same relief through hypnotherapy… which will help you remember this, um…

NOONE: The Candleman. It’s my name for him.

[Shifting]

OTTO: I’d like you to gaze into the spiral. Watch it sway, back and forth. Back, and forth. Fall into the endless turning of the pattern within. As you drift away, drift back into dreaming. Drift into a world coming clearer. 

NOONE: Y-Yes… I see.

OTTO: Then, tell me of… the Candleman. 

NOONE, narrating: …The candleman stood before me. On the rooftop. [Faint, low breathing] He wore… a long filthy jacket. His presence…. it reminded me of… when the tide goes out. And his face… it moved beneath his hat. Like soup. Bits and pieces rising and sinking. Wait… I can see a little better now. 

NOONE: H-His eyes… are long slits. Skin-rough, sagging… like melting wax. He didn’t speak, but somehow I knew. The Candleman wanted me to open myself. To this place. Yes, he has for a while now. Every night. 

OTTO: (muffled) Every night?

NOONE: Oh. I can see it all. A web. He’s… been with me this whole time. Watching. Observing. Waiting…

OTTO: What does he want?

NOONE: I don’t know… [muffled yelling] Someone shouting. I turn to look,

OTTO: I’d like to keep talking about-

NOONE: No! When I turn back, the Candleman was gone. I-I rush to the ladder [Dream!Noone running, clunk]. At the bottom stood a- wart-covered brute with filthy arms. He must have broken away from the boardwalk, and something hung in his hand, flapping l-like a fish. He headed to the Bathhouse and… something told me to follow. 

[clanking]

NOONE: As I climb down the ladder, I passed by an open shop window, and poked my head inside. The merchant… spoke in- a raspy voice, [overlapping] “What’s your pleasure?” A desperate moan came from the customer, and he said [overlapping whisper] “Suds. To cleanse this profound skin.” And then… the merchant lifted- a bottle of pink liquid, and said “This will ease your pain.”

[Dream!Noone continues climbing down, lands]

NOONE: A-at the bottom of the ladder, Jester wasn’t there, so… I set off, making my way through- the overgrowth, that had eaten up the land around the Bathhouse.

[plants rustling] 

NOONE: Until, I reached some vines, crawling up a fogged window. 

[Window being opened, Dream!Noone entering and landing on the floor]

NOONE: I was in some kind of- store closet. [water dripping] The shelves were lined with… cleaning chemicals, and… brushes and buckets. The stink of bleach stung my eyes, so I rush through the door. 

[heavy door opening, echoey bath splashing]

NOONE: A room with shallow pools. And the same polluted taste in the air, as the stream by our apartment. 

OTTO: [writing, muffled] Water parasite preoccupation-

NOONE, Not narrating: (distressed) Something lives on. Even after the cure! Pinching my skin, pulling my organs, my head’s like- cracked pavement and my scalp is- itchy!- So itchy- urgh!!!

OTTO: Enough! Enough scratching. 

[Beeping, clicking as Otto unstraps the device. Beeping powers down, audio is clearer]

OTTO: (comforting) Noone, listen. There’s nothing on you. Nothing inside, either. It’s only you and me, and nothing else. 

[Two pops. Earplugs are removed, Noone gasps, audio is completely clear]

OTTO: It’s alright. You’re back. Safe and sound, as promised. 

NOONE: …Did…did it work? Were details glued back together?

OTTO: Some. Though many pieces are still missing… and this continual mention of headaches concerns me. I’ll look into possible causes and see what can be done. For now; the Bathhouse, you were inside, right?

NOONE, narrating: Yes. And, there was steam hung in the air, making it hard to see anything but… shapes. The shapes of… Bathers, unrobed and- unmasked. Some levered away, some crouched in the water, others huffed the sauna steam. The biggest… sat scrubbing himself with… [child struggling] with something that appeared alive. 

[distant splash, more struggling noises, scrubbing]

NOONE: Creeping through the steam, I hid behind a bucket [splash, child whines, growly mumbling] The big one… was before me, [Child yelling, growly voice] barely resembling a human. His- body was… raw and brown, and he rapidly repeated “Divide the grime from the divine” over and over. I suddenly realized wha- [splash, Jester struggling] who… the creature was scrubbing with.

NOONE: [Jester yells, scrubbing] It was poor Jester, sobbing and thrashing for his life. S-Stumbling in horror, I… I slipped on the slimey [squeak] tile and-

[all background noise stops]

NOONE: The whole room went silent, as they turned their heads… and began a haunting chant.

NOONE: (overlapping whisper) “Cleanse her, cleanse her!” Voices piled as their shapes stood and staggered into view, th-their bodies scrubbed into- raw spectacles, there was nothing I could do for Jester! So, I- I picked myself up, and ran for the door, but it was shut tight! [door clicking, whispers get louder] The Bathers drew near, arms reaching out, [more struggling] my hands grazed a crevice on the wall, which- which I slip- through just in time. 

[Whispers stop, door clattering, Dream!Noone breathing hard]

NOONE: There I stood in the storeroom, once more. The window was open [knocks on the door]- my one chance to escape. I climbed the shelves, [jars clinking] avoiding the jars and containers that filled the room with chemical stink. 

[knock, door breaks down]

NOONE: Glancing back, I saw the monster, standing in the broken door frame- Jester’s limp body under his arm. 

[clanking]

NOONE: His… wart-covered hand reached up, [Growl, Dream!Noone yelps] grabbing my leg, violently pulling me away, [shelf creaks] and all I could do was reach in hope, [creak] my hands grasped a jar full of white liquid, [creak, yelp] and as he ripped me down-

[Entire shelf breaks]

NOONE: The jar followed. 

[Glass breaks, Bather roars & groans. Everything goes quiet]

NOONE: The liquid covered him, head to toe, unleashing a cloud of gas that burned the very air, washing over me, sending me into darkness. …A strange satisfaction came from melting down that vile man. I wasn’t like that moth, searching for the light. I was quite… happy, surrounded by the dark. 

NOONE, finishing: Soon enough… I was back here. In the Copy. 

OTTO: …Hmm… A more intense, personally-rooted conflict this time, a desire to be clean- perhaps to wash away memories of an invasive experience that your anxiety is fixated on. Yet, what bemuses me is your insistence on actuality; claiming material presence of others, and environment. 

NOONE: But, didn’t you say I could be sharing dreams?

OTTO: Yes, but that’s a different phenomenon. We must prescribe further research. I will need to begin nightly tests and observations to aid in reaching differential diagnosis. 

NOONE: Experiments! Do we have to, Otto?

OTTO: They’ll help you feel better! And that’s what you want, isn’t it?

NOONE: …Well… yes. Of all things, it’s the sound of mum saying “Ni-night” I miss most. 

[shifting as both get up]

OTTO: The stone becomes a little boulder!

NOONE: Pardon?

OTTO: The answer! To Jester’s joke! It’s an old one. 

NOONE: (whispering) The stone becomes a little boul… Oh, [giggle]

OTTO: Now, before you pop off to bed, [ceramic scrape] pick out another colorful delight for being such a good girl. 

[ceramic click, wrapper crinkling]

OTTO: Sweets, for my sweet. 

[Click]

[Outro plays] 

[newsiesgolgotha]

The Passion of our Lord Jack Kelly

Gospel: Kelly 14:29-15:39

Racetrack said to him, “Even though all become scabs, I will not.” Jack said to him, “Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the bell rings twice, you will deny me three times.” But he said vehemently, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And all of them said the same.

They went to a place called Central Park; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Racetrack and Davey and Les, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He came and found them sleeping; and he said to Racetrack, “Anthony, are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour? Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” And again he went away and prayed. And once more he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to say to him. He came a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Manhattan is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”

Immediately, while he was still speaking, Jesdus, one of the twelve, arrived; and with him there was a crowd with clubs, from the bulls and the scabs. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” So when he came, he went up to him at once and said, “Jeck!” and kissed him. Then they laid hands on him and arrested him. 

A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a newspaper. They caught hold of him, but he left the newspaper and ran off naked.

They took Jack to Snyder; and all the bulls and the scabs were assembled. Racetrack had followed him at a distance, right into the courtyard of the Spider; and he was sitting with the scabs, warming himself at the fire. Now the bulls were looking for testimony against Jack to put him to death; but they found none. For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Then Snyder stood up before them and asked Jack, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?” But he was silent and did not answer. Again Snyder asked him, “Are you the Cowboy, the Son of Manhattan?” Jesdus said, “I am; and 

‘you will see the Son of Manhattan seated at the right hand of The World,’ and ‘coming with the tumbleweeds of Santa Fe.’”

Then Snyder tore his clothes and said, “Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy! What is your decision?” All of them condemned him as deserving death. Some began to spit on him, to blindfold him, and to strike him, saying to him, “Prophesy!” The scabs also took him over and beat him.

While Racetrack was below in the courtyard, one of the employees of Snyder came by. When she saw Racetrack warming himself, she stared at him and said, “You also were with Jack, the man from Lower Manhattan.”But he denied it, saying, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about.” And he went out into the forecourt. Then the bell rang. And the employee on seeing him, began again to say to the bystanders, “This man is one of them.” But again he denied it. Then after a little while the bystanders again said to Racetrack, “Certainly you are one of them; for you are a Newsie.” But he began to curse, and he swore an oath, “I do not know this man you are talking about.” At that moment the bell rang for the second time. Then Racetrack remembered that Jack had said to him, “Before the bell rings twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.

As soon as it was morning, Snyder held a consultation with the bulls and the scabs. They bound Jack, led him away, and handed him over to Governor Roosevelt. Roosevelt asked him, “Are you the King of New York?” He answered him, “You say so.” Then Snyder accused him of many things. Roosevelt asked him again, “Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.” But Jack made no further reply, so that Roosevelt was amazed.

Now at the rally he used to release a prisoner for them, anyone for whom they asked. Now a man called Weisel was in prison with the rest of the strike-breakers. So the crowd came and began to ask Roosevelt to do for them according to his custom. Then he answered them, “Do you want me to release for you the King of New York?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that Snyder had handed him over. But Snyder stirred up the crowd to have him release Weisel for them instead. Roosevelt spoke to them again, “Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of New York?” They shouted back, “Crucify him!” Roosevelt asked them, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him!” So Roosevelt, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Weisel for them; and after flogging Jack, he handed him over to be crucified.

Then the soldiers led him into the Newsie Square; and they called together the whole town. And they clothed him in a purple cap; and after twisting some papes into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, “Hail, King of New York!” They struck his head with a pape, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cap and put his own cap on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from Brooklyn, to carry his cross; it was Spot of Conlon, the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. Then they brought Jack to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him seltzer mixed with water; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of New York.” And with him they crucified two Delancey bruddas, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would strike against The World and form a union, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” In the same way Snyder, along with the scabs, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Cowboy, the King of New York, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those Delanceys who were crucified with him also taunted him.

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jack cried out with a loud voice, “*אין” which means, “I ain’t got nothin’ if I ain’t got Santa Fe!” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Crutchie.” And someone ran, filled a sponge with dirty seltzer water, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Crutchie will come to take him down.” Then Jack gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the freshly printed newspapers were torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when Pulitzer, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was Manhattan’s Son!”

*How to translate the following into Hebrew:

“I’m sorry sir, but that item seems to be out of stock right now. If you like I can place it on back order and notify you upon its arrival, or perhaps I could direct you to another establishment which may have it.”

In Hebrew all this translates simply: אין.

[timaeusterrored]

(The Pool Boy)

((Remember that one post I made waaaaay back in the early days when everything was cool? Yeah well I’m finally writing it))

Kerry Eurodyne remembers a time when he would have been embarrassed by Ariel seeing the state of the villa after a long night. But now he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Both were used too it, just as much as Kerry was used to being shaken to make sure he was still alive and Ariel starting conversations way too early.

“Kerry! Up! Breakfast!” Ariel was two seconds from pouring water over the rocker if he wasn’t up in the next five seconds. Kerry knew the annoyance in his voice, this song and dance happened every morning.

The rocker followed the smell of food and winced at the bright lights, attempting to dim them but immediately got scolded by his cook. Claiming he ‘needed them.’ Kerry just figured he was in a bitchy mood today. Or maybe he himself was in the bitchy mood.

Ariel was talking a mile a minute while Kerry stared at his back and tried so hard to focus on what he was saying, but failed miserably. What on earth was this man on today?

“Kerry!”

The older man winced, putting his hands over his ears for a moment. Was Ariel’s voice always so loud? Or was Kerry just extremely hungover? When was the last time he was this hungover?

“Did you hear anything I just said?” If anyone saw them right now, Ariel could have been confused for a disgruntled lover not getting paid attention too.

“No, I didn’t. What the fuck did you say?” God he sounded awful. Ariel just rolled his eyes and put on a pot of tea.

“I said that we have a new guy coming in. He’s on the younger side so be nice. He’s gonna be helping Miguel out, with the pool or something. I dunno.”

“I’m always nice-“

“Remember that time I came in and you launched a bottle at my head at full force.”

“Hey now, that was only because you came in at fuckin five am while I was in the zone, that was your fault.”

Ariel flipped him off then placed a heavenly plate of food in front of him. Kerry ate slowly, trying to keep himself from throwing up, and any mention of the pool boy gone from his mind- Ker don’t call him a pool boy this is not a porno.

The thought made him laugh and Ariel looked up from his own food in confusion. Kerry stated once that Ariel could eat whatever he wanted, he cooked the food he should be allowed to enjoy it! And if he came in early enough, Miguel was welcome to join them too… Kerry needed to stop hiring only men. He wasn’t even attracted to either of them, it just happened.

Ariel forced Kerry to drink the tea and honey he had made him, stating with as renowned as Kerry was for his voice, he took absolutely awful care of it. If Ariel knew Kerry when he was in his early years, he’d know Kerry was a princess about his voice. Now his chrome did most of the work and Kerry stopped caring as much. At this rate, Kerry was going to sing himself into the grave.

After breakfast was said and done and Kerry decided to be somewhat human today and take a shower, he wondered about the new hire. Honestly he wondered if he had been told at all, or had just not been listening when it came up. Either way, he trusted his gardener to not hire some complete clown.

What he wasn’t expecting was a complete piece of Night City beauty standing by his pool, talking to Miguel. He was tall, built like a fucking merc, and had gorgeous red hair Kerry wanted to grab. Oh and he also didn’t look a day past at least 26. And Kerry wasn’t sure if he had reached that level of his celebrity meltdown yet of dating a guy that young.

“Absolutely not, Kerry Eurodyne.” The voice behind him made him jump out of his skin. He needed a fucking bell on Ariel at this point, who was packed and ready to go to the store to restock Kerry’s fridge. “That kid is like 28 and way not prepared to deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” Kerry asked, offended now.

“You know exactly what I mean, Ker. Don’t fuck your pool boy, that’s just pathetic.” Ariel wasn’t wrong… but fuck.

Over the next few weeks, Kerry had for the most part, stayed out of the kid’s way. He learned his name was V, when Kerry asked Miguel if that was it, he was told that’s all the pool boy told anyone. He was from Heywood, his dad was apparently a ripperdoc in the city, and he liked boxing. Pretty basic if you asked Kerry.

But the weird part was that no one had seen him actually get into the pool. He somehow managed to avoid doing it every single time he was there, doing his work from the sidelines. He did a damn good job of it too, they were just impressed he could do it.

He was normally in and out, doing his job quickly and quietly to a point that Kerry honestly kinda forgot about him… until one morning.

Kerry had been on another work binge, up all night writing and composing, when he just happened to still be up when V’s car rolled up. It was a hunk of junk and Kerry noted he needed to look at his pay. Pretty boy like that deserved better than a junk car.

It was way too early for any normal human being to be up and at em, but Kerry supposed he was awake too. Maybe it was high time for and introduction. Kerry forgot he actually had to introduce himself to people.

He walked out of the villa once he had put some more presentable clothes on, a cup of coffee warming his hands as the door slid shut behind him. The pool boy was hard at work, doing… whatever it was he did with the pool. Kerry actually had never taken care of this thing on his own… had his fame really made him this lazy.

“Bit early for a swim, ain’t it?” That was his opener? Dear god he was rusty. Alright, Ker, put on the charm.

The man turned his head over his shoulder in confusion, then his eyes widened. Kerry heard him swear before he stood up, drying his hands on a pair of cargo pants. Seriously what was this dude’s deal? How do you work on a pool and not get in?

“Shit I’m sorry, hope I didn’t wake you up- uh, Mr. Eurodyne?” He said it like a question, like he was testing what Kerry preferred to be called.

“Kerrys fine, kid. And I wasn’t sleeping, so you’re fine on that front… never answered my question though. The hell are you doing here at 5:30 in the morning?”

Fuck what was this dude’s name? Z? Van? V! That was it. V looked perplexed, hands in his pockets as he examined Kerry for a moment.

“I’m always here early. I don’t wanna be in anyone’s way so I come and get my job done and then leave.”

It was kinda impossible to bother anyone with a face like that but okay. And also normally Kerry for the most part alone, unless Ariel was worried about him or Miguel needed extra hours, in which he just sat down with Ker and Ariel and had lunch or something. But this kid? Bothering them? Unlikely.

“And do what the rest of the day?”

V shrugged. “Help my mom out at her bar, or my dad in his clinic. Or Y’know, hide bodies.” Oh he thought he was funny did he?

“Oh are you good at that? I actually have some in the bathroom I needed help moving.” Kerry shot back, earning a small laugh from the pool boy.

“I Uh… I should probably get out of your hair soon, don’t wanna-“

“You want a cup of coffee?” Kerry cut him off. Clearly this kid had some deep rooted issues and Kerry was too tired to ask why he felt like he was bothering him. So here they were.

“Uh… sure.” V’s voice was quiet, but Kerry didn’t miss his small smile as he was lead inside. He wouldn’t fuck his pool boy…

Not yet.

[ilpianistasultetto]

Provence- Fontaine-de-Vaucluse

Chiare, fresche et dolci acque,

ove le belle membra

pose colei che sola a me par donna..

F. Petrarca