#pretty sure it's just their way of holding off giving more revenue away when you have a high viewed video

[posthumanwanderings]

if anyone was curious what's going on with my youtube channel and why I'm holding off using it for the time being, this video explains the stupid bullshit that is 'The Youtube Invalid Traffic ban'...

[jennamacaroni]

Deborah is always giving things to people, and people think because she is very rich and very capable, she doesn't need anyone to give things to her. But Ava gives her something. [you take over from here]

its been two and half years that i've been ruminating on this prompt and never have been able to figure out what this gift could be. this morning i finally found my answer. thank you for sending this prompt which i'm sure at this point you've long forgotten about <3 love u

The package arrives by courier the same evening that Deborah learns ‘My Bad’ is going to network television.  After an obscene bidding war, the purchase price from NBC Universal’s deal will be more revenue for Deborah than all 2,500 Palmetto residency shows combined.  It also happens that NBC has the Super Bowl next February, and network executives pitched the big game to Deborah’s team as the perfect lead-in to maximize viewership.

That’s how big Deborah Vance is in popular culture these days.  Big enough to follow up the most-watched television program of the year.

It’s kind of stunning, Deborah thinks, as Marcus offers her the iPad with the contract pulled up, ready for her signature.  Maybe in her wildest dreams she imagined this level of fame and brand recognition, but it was never all that realistic.  Especially not at her age.  It was impressive enough to sustain her Vegas residency as long as she did in a culture where even the most prolific actors are put out to pasture after age forty.  But here she is, about to sign the biggest deal of her career, north of seventy years old.

Josefina interrupts them before she has the chance to sign, knocking softly on the doorframe to Deborah’s office, holding a small package wrapped in a recycled paper grocery bag.  “Sorry to interrupt, Deborah, but this was just delivered.”

Deborah waves her off.  “Leave it in the kitchen, I’ll get to it later.”

Josefina turns to follow Deborah’s instructions, but something changes her mind.  She hovers instead in the entry to the office, a strange look on her face.

“What is it?” Deborah asks, studying Josefina’s frown, mind going back to Ava hovering in a similar doorway holding the envelope from Kathy back after Frank died.  She shakes the memory away and stands, holding out her hand and beckoning Josefina forward and to get on with it.  She thought this was finally over, that after nearly hitting her with the Rolls Kathy would have gotten the goddamn message.

Josefina enters but stops short of handing it over.  She looks Deborah clear in the eye and says, “It’s from Ava.”

Ah.

Deborah isn’t sure if anyone on her staff is still in contact with her ex-writing partner, but it’s been six months since Deborah fired her on that Hollywood rooftop.

First came the denial:  Ava teary eyed on a night that she should have been celebrating, not believing Deborah’s words.  I can do three months severance and extend your health insurance for six.  Then came the anger, weeks of indignant and resentful texts and voice messages, Ava at her worst poking at every tender part of Deborah she knew, which is just about all of them.  Deborah never once wrote back.  Then bargaining for her job back, even when Deborah knew she was doing just fine writing for television back in LA, that she was even becoming pretty successful.  Then came the weeks where Deborah heard nothing at all, Ava’s messages stopping completely, no updates on any of her social media that Deborah most definitely didn’t keep checking, just to make sure.  Ava’s name in the credits became the only way Deborah knew she was still out there, still okay, still working.

Deborah clears her throat, swallowing down the acute tightening, ignoring the quickening of her heart rate.

“I’ll take it,” she says, curtly, “give me a minute.”

“I already opened the champagne Jimmy sent,” Josefina explains, handing Deborah the box across the desk.  This was a night for celebration, but Deborah suddenly feels like anything but.

“I said, give me a minute,” she snaps, more forceful this time.  Her tone clearly hits the mark because Josefina and Marcus share a knowing look before seeing themselves out.  The contract, Jimmy, the champagne, it can all wait.

She sits back in the opulent wing-backed chair and lets out a long exhale, holding the small wrapped package and measuring its weight.  There’s not much to it really, just wrinkled paper, crooked lines of clear packing tape, and Ava’s chicken scratch with her name and address.

She unwraps it carefully, like she’s afraid of what might be inside.  There’s a plain white envelope with Deborah’s name written small in the center and a box for a pair of noise canceling headphones.  She slips her finger under the seam of the envelope, tearing it open.  A piece of note paper is tri-folded inside, Ava Daniels in neat block printing stamped along the top of the personalized stationery.  Deborah chuckles, thinking Ava has come so far from writing solely on post-its.  The note is simple, Ava’s messy handwriting in black ink in the center of the page:

For your collection. - Ava

Deborah opens the box but there are no headphones inside, only a bunch of balled up paper surrounding an oblong taped up ball of bubble wrap.  Contained within are two ceramic figures, an unlikely pair:  it’s quintessential Deborah in her favorite updo wig, a pants suit dusted in golden glitter, complete with golden high heels and microphone in hand.  The other is a slightly shorter and paler figure with short auburn hair, striped t-shirt, high waisted jeans, and thick black Doc Marten boots.  The tiny Ava is holding a small black notebook.  They’re both laughing, and if placed side by side, the salt and pepper shakers turn slightly into one another, like they’re leaning in and sharing a raucous joke.

Deborah tears up, staring down at them centered on the desktop, Ava the pepper to her salt.  The other half of her pair.  She misses her desperately then, and if she’s serious with herself, has been for the past half of a year, never letting herself truly sit in those feelings until now.

She picks up her phone, squints at the screen through tears, and pulls up Ava’s contact.  Before she knows what she’s doing, Deborah hits the call button.

The phone rings twice, then is sent to voicemail.

The recorded message says, “It’s Ava, drop it like it’s hot.”

Deborah clears her throat.  She has no idea what she even wants to say.  I miss you.  I’m living my dream, I’m famous as hell, about to be more rich than ever, but I’m not happy.  Not without you.  Please come back.  None of it is worth it without you.

But that would be selfish.  Ava is doing fine, thriving even, without Deborah.  She needs to let her be.  Instead, she says, “Hey, it’s um, it’s me.  I got your package.”  She sniffles, swallowing tears.  “They’re perfect.  Thank you.”

She hangs up.

After her hands stop shaking and she’s gathered herself, Deborah carries the shakers to the wall of china cabinets where her collection is fully lit and on display.  She makes room right in the center one at eye-level and sets them together, close enough to touch, their heads leaning into one another.

A few moments later Deborah signs the contract and the house celebrates, Jimmy toasting Deborah and her accomplishments over the phone to a bottle of Dom Perignon, a vintage for 1976, the very year Deborah filmed the late night pilot and ended up starting her stand up career.

If anyone notices the new addition to the salt and pepper shaker collection, no one mentions it.

[adventuresinclientservice]

Do noncompete agreements actually work?

Years ago, shortly after I arrived in New York to resurrect Ammirati & Puris’ struggling direct marketing group, I heard from Michael McMahon, a young Account-person colleague from my previous, San Francisco-based agency, Foote, Cone & Belding.  Michael had run afoul of my successor, Mick Feld, and wanted to switch agencies.  I offered him a job; he relocated to New York.

Soon thereafter I connected with Fred Schwartz, who was a Creative Director at FCB; same deal.  I threw him a lifeline; he too came to New York.

It happened again with Felicia Lindau, another Account person; same problem, same solution.  Soon Felicia was working at Ammirati.  

I didn’t give a second thought to the consequences I visited upon the agency I just left – people on my previous team were unhappy; I offered them a place to land and felt good about it – but when these same three people later decamped, one after another, along with an art director, Elsebeth Thomson, to San Francisco to work for the then-hot-now-defunct agency Anderson & Lembke, my reaction was entirely different:  I went ballistic.

Understanding my boiling stew of anger and alarm, Ammirati’s then CFO, Phil Palazzo, recruited our law firm Davis and Gilbert to fire off a nasty, threatening letter to Anderson & Lembke’s CEO.  In short order we heard from him; dismissing our threat of a law suit as just so much empty posturing, he replied with snarky derision: “Sure go ahead and sue us, knock yourselves out.”

He was right of course; we weren’t going to sue, and didn’t, but the letter did the trick.  The staff poaching ceased.  

Were we hurt by the sudden mass departure?  In the short term a little, but we were able to replace the people we lost with even better ones.  If there was any damage, it was to my pride, with me chastened and humbled by the loss this many people.

As I think about this now, I realize the irony of the situation:  I did to FCB exactly what Anderson & Lembke did to me.  What right did I have to be upset? 

Can you enforce noncompete agreements?

The other day I read a Times “Opinion” piece by FTC Chair Lina Khan, who claims,

“When you’re subject to a noncompete clause, you lose your right to go work for a competing company or start your own, typically within a certain geographic area and for a certain period of time. Unless you’re willing to move hundreds of miles away or take a huge pay cut to restart your career from scratch, a noncompete can effectively lock you into a job.”

I don’t know about American business at large, but I do know this largely is not true in the advertising and marketing business.   Yes, our industry uses noncompete clauses in their employment agreements, mostly for critically key  or more senior people.  Advertising also has a long history of talented, ambitious, risk-taking people venturing from their incumbent shops to found new ones.  

Do the incumbent agencies try to stop them?  I’ve heard it happening, but it’s pretty rare.  If anything, the incumbent agency instead might choose to underwrite the fledging shop.  

Agencies tend to deploy noncompete agreements for a host of reasons:

To keep departing people from recruiting colleagues, which otherwise would increase the size of the staff exodus and the resulting chaos that would ensue;

To prevent clients from following the people out the door, which would erode an agency’s revenue, not to speak of morale;

To prevent the sharing of confidential client or agency information; and/or,

To punish the perpetrators for their betrayal.

In theory all but one of these makes sense, but do any of them actually work?

An agency can’t stop a client from leaving by invoking a legal agreement. It can’t prevent staffers from jumping ship.  The disclosure of confidential information?  We’re talking advertising here, not state secrets; if there’s a disclosure, it’s likely to be of little consequence.  And the punitive thing?  That’s just childish.

The best way to hold onto clients and colleagues.

I didn’t ask Michael, Fred, or Felicia to sign noncompete agreements when they joined Ammirati – I did offer them a means of escape and thus assumed a degree of loyalty, plus I had faith in the appeal of my new agency -- but even if I had, it would have made no difference.  As painful and embarrassing as their swift and sudden departures were, they had every right to leave, noncompete or not.

You want to hold onto your clients?  Consistently deliver the best possible work, on budget and on schedule, while forming relationships built on trust.

You want to hold onto your people? Build an environment that is supportive, open, and fair, where people are mentored and trained, where honest mistakes are corrected, not punished, and where people feel safe.

If you do these things, you will find they are far more effective than a piece of paper that attempts to hold clients or colleagues against their will.  

That, I can tell you, never works.

[hotwings0203]

Decided to do a part 2 (due courtesy of @an-ambivalent and @definitetrashlord for motivating me to even continue this series HEHE💖)

Pt. 1

Tw: manipulation, dubcon, language

It isn’t the cum that slides down your legs continuously, nor the black and blue marks that so obviously covers the expanse of your neck at all times, no.

It’s the constant surveillance you’re under, it’s the lack of conversation you get from your comrades, it’s the way you mold and shift for however he wants you to be that solidifies his hold on you.

The attack from three weeks ago feels like yesterday, the way he held your head up by your hair after he was done ruining you and crooned in your ear that you were his now, and you’d be suicidal if you continued to lash out on his godsent decision plays like a broken record in your head.

You can’t look him in the eyes now, only meekly staring at his feet when he orders you to stand in front of him. Sometimes he’ll circle you and invade in your personal space, standing behind you and leaning in close behind your ear, simply inhaling you and saying nothing. Other times when no one’s around he’ll lounge back on the couch with a beer in his hand, spreading his knees wide while he lazily orders you to dance for him, slowly stripping away your self esteem and clothes simultaneously.

He doesn’t seem to outwardly mind the silence that seeps from you anymore, now that he has your body and attention focused solely on him.

Even Tomura has stopped talking to you just for fun. He’ll try and make a snipe at you, fruitlessly expecting your once-usual comebacks, but all you can do is blearily smile at him.

It makes everyone uneasy how quickly you’ve been reduced to nothing.

You couldn’t leave even if you tried to. Your medical skills were too valuable to be rejected, and Dabi’s scrutinizing tabs on you wouldn’t allow for even a foot stepped outside if not for Shigaraki’s missions.

Even your meals are meager at best, mainly consisting of copious amounts of alcohol and shitty ambiguous burnt food that pops up on the counters randomly.

You feel dirty, like a disease-infested rat. No amount is showering from the dingy stalls, no amount of cheap soap bars wittled down on your body erases the feeling of being used.

Dabi has never been in more love than he has now.

He hopes you like the food he makes, secretly placing it on the bar counter seconds before you sit down. Sure, the food might be a little burnt, but it’s still your favorite right?

It doesn’t matter how expensive the shower products are, he thinks they smell nice and that they’d smell even better on you. Shigaraki can fuck off, he’s not spending too much revenue on his girl, it’s the bare minimum he can do to show you how much he appreciates you playing by his rules...even if he can never say it out loud.

And his favorite part at the end of every day is putting his surely-misplaced words of affection into action, where he can scream with his body against yours how long he’s wanted you for, how thankful he is to any deity that exists that you’ve been placed in his care.

Dabi might be in love, but he’s not stupid though.

He sees the way your body becomes more and more deteriorated, notices the small change of you hesitation to answer him, the way you can never truly look at him, how you retreat to his room more and more(your room has just become a guest room now after he burned all your belongings, rendering you completely dependent on him to supply you with scratchy clothes and feminine products, no matter how embarrassing it is for you). It’s so frustrating to him- you’re not actually doing anything wrong, but you’re not doing it right either. How long does he have to keep threatening you for? Why can’t you just be happy with him? At least pretend like he’s not the villain for once.

He just feels so passionately for you, a word he never thought would be used in his vocabulary. It all bottles up, and sometimes he feels like he isn’t expressing his feelings of love, jealousy at you not giving him enough attention at times, concern over your quiet demeanor, and wanting of you enough.

You’ve never been more broken than you are now.

If it wasn’t bad enough that you bend at his every beck and call, he expects you to understand his body language and cravings without him even saying anything, which is more so often than not. He just stares at you for so, so long. You originally tried to get up and leave after he dragged you over to the couch and plopped you down, but immediately stilled after smoke began curling from his wrists.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

You look at him incredulously, but his lids are lowered at you as he smokes a blunt. And so you exhale in annoyance and run a hand through your hair, closing your eyes to avoid looking into his unnerving glacial eyes.

It’s too bad you don’t see the big red hearts in them that break when you turn away from him.

You’re just so pretty, how can you expect him not to stare?

He tries to get you to do weird things too when you guys are alone and he’s not plowing you into the mattress.

Once on a cool winter night a majority of the League was out hunting for recruits. Dabi, you, and Spinner had done your quotas already-or,rather, Dabi had yanked you by your wrist alongside him through the dark alleyways, growling at you to “Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. If I see you looking at any one of these trash kindlings I’ll burn the whole alley up and force you to watch”.

And so while the rest of the party was out, Spinner had mumbled something about needing to take a piss with a pointed glare from Dabi and you were left alone again with your...boyfriend?

He sits down on the crumbling leather and gives you a once over, not saying anything.

You fidget in place, thinking he was going to make you give him another slutty show.

Moments pass, and he snaps, “Well?”

“W-well what?”

“Are you just gonna stand there like some braindead bitch? Sit down.” He leers at you.

You drop into the loveseat at the other end, looking down at your lap. You can’t see his expression, but he scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you actually slow? Get the fuck over here, it’s cold as shit.”

And so you scooch over to him regrettably, knees touching with his as you squirm.

He leans forward and turns to face you, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He notices you trembling and squeezing your eyes shut, so he stops midway.

He sits back again and as soon as you feel his presence retreat you let out our breath.

It hurts his heart to hear it.

You solely turn to face him when he doesn’t say anything, and he points to one of the grimy blankets strewn over the side of the tv. He grunts, and you catch his drift.

You get up to retrieve it, and hear his gravelly voice. “Get the remote too.”

When both items are brought back, Dabi snatches the blanket from you and drapes it over himself contentedly.

What am I, an errand girl?

He tosses the remote at you to your surprise, and you look at him with raised eyebrows.

He props his cheek against a fist and stares briefly at the tv.

You take your chances and press the on button on the remote.

The ancient monitor comes to life, and it takes a few minutes of scrolling through the channels and glancing at Dabi’s face to decide the appropriate one to watch. You settle on some old slasher finally after seeing the scowl on his face lessen at the sight of a rusted blade chopping through some guy’s shoulders.

It’s weird to be sitting there with your bully-turned-beau, watching a horror flick as if your relationship with him was normal. You’re surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet, it’s what he always wants to do these days as if you’re planning on leaving and it’s his last dying wish to fuck you.

But he does nothing except for sit there, gazing at the screen with unblinking eyes, bouncing his knee.

He wants you near him.

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Why do you think he even sat you next to him with a blanket and a shitty movie?

Dabi expected you to snuggle up to him the moment you say back down. It’s rather insulting that you haven’t so far, if he’s being honest. Why would a fire user like him need a blanket to keep warm? That was for you.

And the horror movie? The only reason he allowed you to put it on is because he wanted you to jump, scream, flinch-hell, do something so he can put an arm around you and tease you for being scared!

But you just sit there. Stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. Hands in your lap, back straight up, it bothers him that you’re not relaxing around him.

“Aren’t you cold?” You jump at the break in silence.

Indeed it is cold, the chilly winter draft seeping through the crumbling foundations of the old bar. But you’d resist, not wanting to know where he was going with this.

“Uh, no, I’m good thanks.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re literally shaking cold, doll. Come here.”

You turn to him beseechingly, very much not wanting to prolong this. “Dabi...”

You’re met with an icy glare.

And so you begrudgingly scoot closer to him, barely a few inches away. Gingerly picking up the corner of the blanket, you place it over your lap in a faux effort to warm yourself.

Dabi rolls his eyes when he sees this, and pulls you by your arms to fall against his chest.

You gasp lightly at how warm his torso is, and can’t help the shiver that passes over you.

Unable to stop yourself from chasing the warmth amidst the cold night, you huddle closer to him, pressing your palms against his chest to feel more of his heat.

He looks down at your head and gives the slightest twitch of his lips.

His heart swells, and he hopes you don’t hear how embarrassingly loud it’s pounding against your hands.

You slowly start melting in his hold, shifting your leg up adjoining his to seek out more heat, and it makes his cock twitch slightly. He likes you like this: pliant, easy, comfortable. He just wishes you’d talk more, and with less of that apprehension and fear in your eyes

Some minutes pass, the slasher fic having been ended and changing to a rom-com. Dabi doesn’t remember the last time he saw one of those. It must have been back when he was Touya, back when his mom would bake his favorite cookies and him and Fuyumi-chan and Natsu would chase each other around-

You stir in his arms, mumbling a bit from dozing off. Dabi gazes at you, wondering when the day would be when you bake him his favorite meals, when he gets to chase you around and make you giggle instead of chasing you like prey and making you scream.

He rubs up and down you arms soothingly with hot palms as you murmur and begin to wake up. You sit up from his chest and rub your eyes, yawning widely all the while.

It’s only when you focus on him smirking down at you that you jump back as if you’ve been electrocuted.

His smile drops at that.

You scowl at his proximity, mentally face-palming at how you could’ve been lulled to sleep so easily by this dickhead. It wasn’t even that cold, how could you have warmed up so easily to him?

A blast of icy air seemingly coming from nowhere settled over your bones and you shivered violently, rubbing your arms that were warm a minute ago.

Okay, maybe it was a bit cold. But you’d be damned if you willingly became vulnerable for him any more than you had to.

“Is someone tired?” He teased, his white teeth gleaming with his sickening grin.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you mutter and avert your eyes, getting up to go upstairs.

“Good idea, I think I’ll come too.” You don’t need to turn around to hear the smug laughter in his voice, knowing full well that he was making fun of you.

You grumble and stalk upstairs with him right at your heels. At one point he lifts his gaze just to see your cute ass sashaying side-to-side with every step you took up.

He can’t help himself when he reaches a hand out and squeezes the flesh there, causing you to yelp and shoot up the stairs even faster.

Dabi shakes his head and snickers to himself, beelining after you to his quarters.

It’s a medium size-room, not meant for two people but that doesn’t stop him from cramming you in here every night.

You’re already glowering at his sheets, yanking them back and getting ready to dive in when a sudden thought strikes him.

“Have you eaten yet?” He leans against the door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Comes your muddled answer from beneath the comforter.

You did not, in fact, eat anything for almost a day and a half. You couldn’t do it, your stomach was constantly in knots from his presence.

“Don’t lie to me,” his nostrils flare and he glares at you.

“I said I ate already.”

“Yeah? When exactly? ‘Cause if I remember right, i haven’t seen you leave my sight for almost 36 hours now, and none of that time includes when you ate.”

You stay silent, fuming underneath the covers. Why the hell was he so concerned about you? It pisses you off that he’s putting up a fake act of caring about you, just so that he feels less guilty about raping you.

He sighs and shifts to open the door. “Stop being such a bratty little shit. You were doing so well earlier, so keep it that way unless you wanna piss me off.”

Dabi turns the knob and takes a step out of the room. “I’ll ask you one last time before I choose myself- what do you wanna eat?”

“Eat shit.”

It’s so faint and muffled, but he hears it. His eyes widen marginally, his jaw clenches and the brass knob under his inflamed palm starts to steam and bubble.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said eat shit!” You throw the covers off and glare at him full on. “Stop pretending like you actually like me, or that you care about me. You’re a crazy fucking rapist, you’re not my father for gods’ sake, so stop trying to be this fake good person!”

The only sound around the room is your soft panting and the squeaking of bubbling metal. Then, it stop.

He steps forward, and speaks softly. “You want me to be the villain so bad?”

Another step forward, and you instinctively retract your legs from the edge of the bed.

“Fine. We’ll play your little game. You’re not leaving this room until I say so, or eating until I give you permission, since that’s what you wanted anyways. Wanna act like a stone cold bitch? Be my guest.”

His posture immediately relaxes, and his smug smile returns as he crosses the room to flip onto the bed.

You look at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He turns over and scrolls through his phone.

There’s no way he’s serious. Is he actually planning on keeping you in this room? You’re already limited to the base as it is with him breathing down your back, no way in hell you’d tolerate even more confinement.

Just to check his bluff, you slowly slip off the bed and pad towards the door, one eye over your shoulder to check that he hadn’t turned around. But the second your hand outreaches for the disfigured blob of cooling metal on the door, a massive wave of blue flames lash out mere inches from your hand and between the knob.

You scream and clutch your hand, leaping backwards.

“What the fuck, Dabi?!”

He says nothing, but continues to smirk at his phone.

You take a deep breath and are about to try to open it again his his raspy voice calls out, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My nursing skills aren’t as good as yours. And even if you do manage to sever your hand and try again, if you leave then I’ll personally make sure Shigaraki withdraws all your missions here on out.”

You pause at that, cursing under your breath. As much as you knew he’d never admit it to your face, your leader needed Dabi for long distance combat. He was the second most powerful member in the group, so his word was scripture after Shigaraki’s himself. He would do anything Dabi would say if it meant keeping him in the League. You, however, were expendable at the end of the day.

Sighing, you trudge your way back to the rickety bed, grumbling under your breath. He says nothing, simply continuing to scroll through his phone as if he didn’t blast hellfire at you seconds before.

Sleep did not come easily. Even after Dabi put his phone away, he didn’t press up against you like he usually did at night. The empty space behind you was growing colder and harder to ignore.

You tossed and turned for a couple minutes, contemplating what to do. Apparently he was serious when he said he wouldn’t let you leave the room until he said so. So when was he gonna give you the all-clear?

Your stomach rumbled loudly, and you winced clutching it. Damn it. If only you had taken up his offer instead of throwing a tantrum.

Finally, after an excruciating 10 minutes more of deafening silence save for your weeping stomach, you cave in.

“Dabi.”

Silence.

“Dabi, you awake?” You prop yourself up on an elbow and peek over his shoulder. His eyes are closed, but his chest is moving too fast for a slumber.

“Look, I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t listen, okay? I should’ve eaten when you told me to.”

Nothing again.

“Hey.” You lightly shake his shoulder, but no response comes from him.

You sigh in frustration, tapping your fingers on the pillowcase. Suddenly, an idea comes to you, but it makes your stomach recoil in disgust and quiet down its grumbling. Desperation is a bitch.

“Can I make it up to you...?”

And finally, he turns around to face you, one cheek propped against his palm, a lazy grin complimenting his salacious gaze.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so earlier doll?”

You grimace in disgust, mixed emotions at your plan working.

“So what exactly did you have in mind, hmm?” He pouts condescendingly down at you, and you grit your teeth before letting him in on it.

“Um, well..I thought maybe I could...um, y’know, like..I wanna, um...” Oh god. This was more embarrassing than you thought. How are you supposed to ask your captor if you can suck his dick? Usually he just took you fighting tooth and nail, you never fully submitted like this before.

And he knows it too, based on the way his eyes gleam in the silver moonlight and shadows of lust cross his face while looking at your wide eyes and bitten bottom lip, your fidgeting fingers showing nothing but needing pure guidance.

But this isn’t supposed to be easy, he doesn’t want you to feel comfortable, he wants you to feel bad and make it up to him.

To give you a little push, however, he gives toga slight hint as he sits up and leans back against the rickety bedrest, folding his arms behind his head.

“So, what’s it gonna be sweetheart? ‘Gonna stare at me like that all night or are you gonna tell me how you’re gonna make this up to me?”

You look up at him, conflicted for a moment before solidifying your resolve. You shyly reach out a hand and touch the outside of his thigh, slowly rubbing and moving it closer up to the tent in his pelvis.

Oh, this is precious.

“What?” He sneers. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You were pushing me away earlier, but now you wanna suck my dick? Make up your mind, babe.”

You wince and continue, not backing down from his mean comment. You knew he wanted this, he expected this from you. That’s why even though he’s spitting venom from his lips, his hips are bucking up into your hand as you stroke over his member.

Your fingers move nimbly up and down, around and under his thighs and dick, with him softly cursing in the background as he grows harder and harder.

“Stop being a tease and get to sucking. It’s what you were made for, anyways,” Dabi’s low voice comes out from in between little moans.

Your hand shakes a little bit as you fumble with the drawstrings on his pj’s, and he snickers at your inexperience. When you finally free his length, it bounces out like its on fucking hydraulics, precum beading up at the tip, his shaft coated with an intimidation Jacob’s Ladder.

He watches you lick your lips and he groans under his breath. You’re nervous and scared, but he’s wondering whose heart is beating faster right now. The hand which you use to hesitantly start pumping him is so much softer than his own, and even though he’s gotten fairly accustomed to your body and the feel of it, the sensations multiply tenfold when you do it willingly for him.

Dabi has half a mind to shove your head down onto his shaft when he feels like you’re stalling with your hands, however good they feel. He wants to see you sloppy with saliva dribbling down your chin like a baby.

But he waits. As excruciatingly painful as it is, he wants to see what you’re like when you do things at your own pace, and at your own...comfort? If you can even call it that.

Finally, finally after caving in from his silent flower you get the idea to put it in your mouth.

Your face contorts in disgust as you slowly lower your head and latch your lips onto the slippery bulb, hollowing your cheeks out and sucking hard at the tip.

Dabi hisses and juts his hips up into your mouth, furiously chewing at his burnt lower lip as he holds back a pornographic moan. He knows you’d be startled and embarrassed by it, so he refrains...for now.

That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna tell you what to do, though.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it like an ice-pop. No, don’t use your teeth idiot. And fondle my balls while you’re at it, too.”

Instructions pour into your ears, one after another as you fumble around trying to satiate his needs. You’re clumsy, which makes it even messier and hotter for him. Various fluids coat your hand and the lower half of your face as you work on him, doing exactly what he says. Sucking and kitten-licking the tip, even going so far as to dip your tongue into the crevice of his tiny hole and rapidly lick up the massive amounts of pre bubbling up after doing so, spiraling your tongue down the piercings and on his shaft until you circle around his balls. Your spit helps as lube to slick up his dick as you pump your hand while nursing on his plush balls.

Dabi, of course, has a hand woven through your hair and randomly jerks down on your head when you hit a good spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to hold back from his way his body and arms shake in self restraint, so you know it’s time to finish things up before his control snaps.

You start stroking him even faster, squeezing a little harder when you move up on his tip and massaging his balls. The soft schlick schlick sounds echo throughout the quiet room, the rustling of his sheets as his legs move to their own accord mute the thudding of both your hearts.

You can tell his orgasm is about to come from the way his cheeks puff up and his chest heaves. Pulling away is futile, as the second he sees recognition in your eyes he finally does what he’s been wanting to do, and slams your head all the way down his length.

He starts actually face-fucking you now, all 7 1/2 inches tightly cramming in your throat. You retch and cry out around his dick, trying to pull your head back but he’s not having it; he pounds the back of your canal and you swear you’ll wake up with a bruised esophagus in the morning.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck yes doll, fuck, just a little more, you’re doing so good, my little cumdump huh? You love me, yeah? Of course you do, of course you love your daddy, you’re never gonna leave me you’re gonna stay right here under me like the good little girl you are-“

Filth pours from his mouth as white ropes leave his cock, your already-filled throat flooding with his seed and leaking out of your strained mouth.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he waits for a moment or two, calming his breath down by taking deep inhales in place of his rapid panting. His breath deepens after a minute or two, but he still has an iron grip on the back of your head sealed so tight that the cum is trapped on the inside of your stretched lips.

“Mmmfh!” You cry out and beat at his knee. He finally looks down at focuses on you, squinting and laughing at your predicament.

“Aww what’s wrong, don’t wanna gargle my kids? Would you rather have them someplace else?” He shakes your head back and forth on his softening cock and more seed spills out over your mouth and around his groin.

You painfully pull your head up, and Dabi revels in how you look.

Teary-eyed, your hair a mess, cum and spit coating your mouth like a fucking whore.

You’ve never looked more beautiful to him than you have at that moment.

“Come on, clean me up,” he gestures to the mess on his body, and you grimace.

“Do I have to? I just did what you wanted me to-“

“I thought you were trying to make it up to me?” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down.

You sigh and try to do it quickly, ingesting the vile contents and avoiding his cruel grin.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you finish him off and flop down in bed, catching your breath.

“So, was that good enough? Can I go outside now?”

“It’s the middle of the night, where the hell would you go right now?” He fluffs up his pillow and pulls his pants back up, getting ready to actually sleep this time.

“Well, I mean yeah, but...you know what I mean, in the morning you’ll let me go out, right?”

He rolls over to face you, and you can’t decipher what emotion crosses his face as his position blocks out the moonlight. From his body rolled over, the light reflecting off the side of his head would almost make it seem like he had white hair.

“Who said anything about letting you go out?”

You gape at him for a moment, then chuckle nervously. “Come on, don’t freak me out like that. You said that if I made it up to you-“

“I said make it up to me, as in apologize for your bitchy attitude. I didn’t say anything about you leaving. You’re gonna have to do more than a shitty blowjob if you wanna leave this room.”

“Dabi!”

“What? I’m just complying with what you wanted. You didn’t wanna go with me, right? So, I’m playing by your rules.” He says simply, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

Tears brim up in your eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Exactly. Which is why you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You turn over and scoot away from him, ignoring his scoff. But you suppose you couldn’t be too mad, after all.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a villain anyways.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Independent Study: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Geto Suguru is a star grad student with a lot going for him. And he wants to add you to that list.

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW (oral, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism)

“Professor y/n?” The sound of your name makes you look up from the laptop in front of you and into the black orbs of the graduate student everyone was raving about.

“Mr. Geto,” you call out, and stand from the wooden desk, fingertips grazing the surface carefully. “Please, come in. Close the door.” The man comes into your office, sliding the leather messenger bag off his shoulder and onto the floor before shutting the door, then taking a seat in front of you. “I heard you made the Dean’s List for the third time from Professor Yaga; congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Geto smiles sheepishly at you, ducking his head a little. “I’ve been working on a presentation, and I wanted to come to ask you some questions.” He pulls out his laptop and rests it on his knees, placing his glasses over his eyes as he squints at the screen. You can’t help but notice how studious he appears to be at all times.

The staff had gone wild over the man when he first arrived, not only because of his looks but his fully-funded endowment that brought the university over one-hundred thousand dollars in revenue. Here he was, in your office, despite you being in the physics department, and Geto being an engineering student.

“How can I help you?”

He turns the screen to face you, and you see the tell-tale font of a research paper. “I’m having a hard time with this study. Mind taking a look?” You hold your hands out for the device and take it willingly, sliding it across your desk and reading the title: A Study on Intercourse.

“Interesting,” you muse, but as you continue reading, you realize by the second sentence that the paper is anything but peer-reviewed research-based. Your cheeks heat up as you turn the laptop back around, avoiding his gaze. “Um, Mr. Geto, I’m not sure that this is your research paper.”

“Oh?” He squints at the first couple of sentences, then tilts his head. “No, that looks about right.”

“It’s… um… it looks like the beginnings of a personal account of your dealings with… intercourse.”

“That’s right.” He turns the laptop back to you. “You see, I require a sample size of twenty since I only have two variables in this study. I don’t want to parade around campus having sex with twenty girls. Too many unknowns, right?” You stare at him dumbly, anticipating his next words. “So I thought, why I don’t I just ask the most attractive woman on campus if she’d be willing to have sex with me twenty times? And that’s where you come in, Professor.” Have sex… with… Geto Suguru? The thought makes you feel the heat between your legs, but you fumble for your answer.

“I-in Section Fifteen of the employee handbook, it states that I am not allowed to engage in any relations with students on or off-campus. That--”

“Includes sexual relations, illicit drug use, drinking, or parties of any kind.” Geto finishes.

“How do you--”

“I’m employed to study here, Professor y/n. Did you think that hefty endowment couldn’t buy me some leeway?” You gape at the man, mouth slightly ajar. “Besides, being a scientist in residence is part of the endowment.”

“I--”

“If you want to help me, meet me here tomorrow at 12.” He slides you a sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Your lunch is an hour and a half, right?”

“Yes…” you breathe and he nods, stuffing his laptop back into his bag before standing.

“Great. Oh, and… bring a change of clothes if you do show up.” Geto unlocks the door and leaves you sitting in your chair, dumbfounded.

_____________________________________________________________

Your finger finds the doorbell of the townhome, and as it rings, you look at your watch.

11:58.

You fiddle with the hem of your blouse as you wait for Geto to answer the door, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t answer and you could go back to work without considering any--

The door swings open, and Geto stands in the doorway, hair falling around his face.The grey shirt he’s wearing matches the joggers, but you dare look no further than the waistline. “Right on time,” he coos, and you enter the abode, looking around at the foyer and dining room. Everything is immaculate, you note, looking up at the crystal chandelier in awe. “Pretty, isn’t it?” You nod, and follow him past the kitchen and into a bedroom that’s twice the size of the one in your apartment. “You want anything? Water, something to eat?” He asks, turning around to face you.

“No, thanks,” you mumble, and he shrugs, shifting papers around on a desk that’s opposite a large bay window. The room is just as clean as the rest of the house: the bed is made, the floor is clean, and a video camera sits on a stand in the corner. “Um, Mr. Geto, I can’t--” Geto follows your line of sight and grunts once.

“I have to record these to gather evidence.” You look over at him, startled, and he holds up a piece of paper with blank spaces on it. “For my dissertation?” The reminder eases your nerves and you slide your purse off of your shoulders, setting it on his dresser. “I need you to sign this.” He walks over to you and hands you the paper with a ballpoint pen.

“What’s this?”

“Just a statement saying you agree to participate in the experiment and be filmed, but I agree to keep these for my viewing pleasure only and it won’t be distributed elsewhere.” You read over the words on the contract and sign below Geto’s name once you’re satisfied. When you finish, he takes the paper back and sits it on his desk before turning on the camera. “Date, ninth of May. Time, twelve o’five. First trial out of twenty.”

“H-how many are we going to do today?” you whisper.

“Just one per day. Though, we can go multiple rounds if you want,” he chuckles, rolling his shirt over his head and revealing his impeccable physique. You’re so focused on the way he looks half-naked that you almost forget why you’re there in the first place. Well, that is until he approaches you with a half-grin on his face. When he cups your chin and tilts your face up, you have no time to prepare for what comes next.

The kiss shared between you two snatches your soul from your body, and you lose all sense of what to do. Sure, you’ve had sex before, but it was always rushed, drunken, and passionless encounters. But the feeling of Geto’s fingers dipping beneath your blouse and to the edge of your pants makes you heady and so…

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want the best results for my research.” You reply by kissing him again, and he finds the zipper to your blouse easily, pulling it down so that you can slide it off without breaking the kiss. When Geto guides you to the bed, you sink back onto the soft sheets, and he leans over you, pulling your hands above your head.

He trails soft kisses down your neck and to your breasts, covered in a lacy pattern you fished out from the bottom of your drawer. You lift up a little so his fingers can fiddle with the clasp, and he undoes that with dexterity and ease, much to your surprise. He flings the item across the room and marvels at the way your body looks beneath him, eyes drifting over your figure with lust.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day,” he admits, and you gasp slightly. “Fuck.” His mouth finds your left breast and tugs at the nipple with his teeth before easing the discomfort with his cool tongue. While he’s giving your chest attention, he’s simultaneously pulling your pants down, exposing your lack of underwear below. Geto notices a moment later, and chuckles again, looking up at you in surprise. “My, my, it looks like we left our underwear at home, huh?” He dips a finger past your folds to see how wet you are and is not met with an unsatisfactory discovery. In response to this, he immediately drops to his knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His tongue finds your core and you moan loudly, hoping that the camera would pick up every single sound you utter.

The slurping and hums of appreciation drive you wild, and your hands lace through his hair as he loses himself in eating you out. “Geto…” you breathe, and that drives him to go a little faster, drawing noises out of you that you aren’t used to hearing. He flicks at your clit once, twice, then dives back down to your slit eagerly, attacking your core like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in ages. When he pulls away, mouth covered in your slick, he licks his lips and raises a brow at you.

“Ready?” You nod in response, and he pulls down his joggers to reveal a raging hard-on. “See? Both of us wore nothing underneath.” You stare at his length, mesmerized by how long and thick and… proportionate it was.

First, Geto was smart, then he’s handsome, and he’s well-endowed? It was virtually impossible, right? He grabs his cock and pumps it a few times, driving the head toward your slit and pressing past your folds with some difficulty.

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding the tip out and trying again. “You haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?”

“Uh-uh,” you respond before hissing at the stretching feeling.

“Fine by me.” He pulls out again to try one more time, and finally, the tip of his cock slides into you fully. He groans and you whimper gently. Geto sinks into you and leans on top to deliver a series of sweet kisses to your mouth as he moves inside of you slowly. “God, this is fucking amazing.”

You clasp an arm around his muscled back, moaning as he rocks his hips back and forth. “G-Geto, please…” Your words encourage him to move a little faster, the sound of your wet pussy slapping against his hips obscene and loud, but you don’t care. All you want is for Geto to fuck you senseless. The bed creaks with his movements, and his hair tickles your face as he watches your expression change from semi-discomfort to enjoyment.

“Mmmm, seems that all you needed was a little bit of stretching out,” he muses, capturing your other breast in his mouth and sucking the skin hard. You cry out, digging your nails into his back, and he hisses, mouth lifting off of your chest. “Shit, y/n.” You buck your hips against him fervently, and Geto’s eyes close as he finds his rhythm again, biting his lower lip.

The way he feels inside of you, stretching you past your limit and yet, caressing your walls with his veiny length - it was all too much. Forget experiments, this was more than that. This was passion.

“Suguru,” you pant. “I… I’m going to cum… I--”

“Cum for me,” Geto whispers in your ear, and you let loose, spasming around his cock while continues to thrust into you. “Mmmm, just like that… Fuck!” Seconds later, he cums as well, grunting as he tosses his head back and drenches your insides with his seed. As you both come down from the feelings of ecstasy, you wind your fingers through his hair and he rests his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly.

“And how many times did you say we’d have to do this?” you wonder, stroking his hair.

“Twenty is the minimum… but I could always use some extra trials… you know, just in case.”

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @leanne-tamashi @jotazinha

[five-rivers]

Cold Case 5

“You’re part of this conspiracy, too?” asked McGee, backing up a few steps. He wasn’t quite ready to confront the whole ‘speaking to a dead person’ thing. Not yet.

“Well. Yeah. As far as a conspiracy exists anyway. You are standing on my grave.” A wisp of mist peeled off the ghost, and the edges of his form flickered.

“Your…” He resisted the urge to glance at the gravestone. All the offerings made more sense if people thought their hero’s body was there.

… Everything about this situation was insane, wasn’t it? He was here, talking to a ghost he’d thought was fictional five minutes ago and standing on his grave. Not that he hadn’t thought all ghosts were fictional up until a couple of hours ago.

“Yep, it’s mine. Which is why I came down here. I can tell when someone is making weird promises to my dead body. It is a school night, you know?”

“People keep saying that. Why does it even matterthat it’s a school night?

“Because I like going to school, and contrary to popular opinion, ghosts do need rest. We sleep when we’re dead and all that.”

“Was that a pun?” demanded McGee, incredulous.

“More like a play on a common figure of speech or a literal metaphor, but, sure, call it a pun. Why are you so focused on my death, anyway?”

“You, I, what, this,” babbled McGee, trying to get a handle on his thoughts. “You’re a pre-teen who was buried in the woods. I’m not heartless.”

“Rude. I’m not a pre-teen. And I was sort of the one to do the burying, so…” The ghost tilted his head, frowning slightly. “You’re not having a heart attack, are you?”

“No,” said McGee.

“It’s just, you’re really holding onto your chest, there. I could fly you to—”

“I am not having a heart attack,” said McGee. “Stop changing the subject! You-! You’re-!” McGee sat down abruptly, careless of the condensation on the grass.

“You know, it’s normal to have an existential crisis when confronted with your own mortality.”

“I’ve already confronted my mortality! I’m a police detective for goodness’ sake!”

“Okay, okay. Jeez.”

“And you- Your death. You said I already knew how you’d died. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Phantom shrugged. “It’s listed as an accident. And it was. I asked them not to put down the details. I like my living family to have privacy.”

“And the whole conspiracy?”

“Be honest,” said Phantom. “It isn’t really all that much of a conspiracy. The town gets most of its revenue from tourism. We’re actually pretty public about it.”

“But that’s not real.”

“Some of it is.” The ghost rubbed the back of his head. “We kind of all know you were sent to spy on us,” he said. “So, you’re probably wondering how to spin this.”

McGee felt his eye twitch. “Collins and Patterson told you?”

“Not really. It’s just obvious. But, like, outside of the GIW, no one is going to believe you that the reason for Amity being so messed up is ghosts. And you’ve seen the GIW.”

“They chased glowsticks around a park,” said McGee, dully. The action made more sense now that he knew about ghosts, but still.

Phantom laughed, a twinkling sound. “Yep. That was a good one. Anyway, I don’t know what your bosses are like, but I guess your options here are to either quit, or, well, if you can’t beat ‘em…”

“Is this a recruitment pitch? Are you, a ghost, trying to give me a recruitment pitch to join your vaguely illegal conspiracy town full of corruption and unsolved murders?”

“First off, to get unsolved murders here you have to go way back. Like I said, my death was an accident. Secondly. Is it working?”

McGee put his head in his hands.

“Welp. It isn’t like you have to decide right away. Your timeline’s determined by whoever your bosses are. No one here hates you, though, if that makes it easier. Collins and Patterson wouldn’t have shown you the Neon District, otherwise. They’d have waited ‘til you ran into a daylight battle, tried to scare you off. That kind of thing.”

“This is them not trying to scare me off?” asked McGee, humorlessly.

“Yeah, I know, it doesn’t seem like it, but it’s true.” Phantom paused. “Ah, that wasn’t exactly the thing to say to put you at ease, was it?”

“What,” said McGee, “is worse than this? What is worse than the dead coming back to like and those alien-looking green blobs coming through and the Fentons, oh my god, what is worse than what they were driving?”

“Oh, gee,” said Phantom, not meeting McGee’s questioning gaze. “Would you look at the time. I’ve got to go. School night and all.”

With that, the ghost disappeared.

Slowly, McGee dragged himself back to his car, turned it on, and just sat there, heater on full blast. This was… a lot to take in. A whole lot.

He rubbed his hand over his face.

Ghosts.

Real ghosts.

Who had opinions about investigations into their deaths.

Had he somehow been sucked into a demented supernatural buddy-cop drama? He was tempted to go searching for cameras.

He was tempted to invest himself fully into whatever this was, because didn’t everyone dream about being in a story like this? Being involved in something fantastic and meaningful? Being the hero of a story, no matter how short?

But this was really to much for someone his age. And he really had to come up with something to say to his bosses, because he really, really doubted that they’d accept him quitting to join the Amity Park Police Department as a non-spy.

He closed his eyes and let himself breathe. He didn’t have to decide how to handle this now. Maybe he’d take Collins and Patterson up on that day off. Think about it for a while.

But.

Ghosts.

Could he live with himself if he just left?

Ice glittered on the ground illuminated by his headlights, as if mocking him for his earlier ambitions about solving cold cases, for all the ignorant thoughts he’d had when first arriving. Could a case really be called cold when the victim was available to give an interview?

Well, yes, assaults went cold all the time, but, still…

Even if McGee didn’t know the details of his eventual decision, he knew, then, that even if he left, he’d never be able to forget Amity Park. It was too good of a mystery. And all other fantasies pushed aside, he’d become a detective to solve mysteries.

In short: he wasn’t leaving.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 8]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, sex toys, dom!seungcheol, blowjob, cumplay, overstimulation, minor degradation/dirty talk, big dick seungcheol is in the house ladies ‘n gents, what we’ve all been waiting for!!! 😩💕 this was actually meant to be a shorter chapter which I guess depending on how you look at 5k words I guess that can be seen as short!!, anyway thank you so much for your patience 🥺 I know a ton of you were waiting for this and it’s finally here!! hehe~ enjoy! have a great weekend!! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - ? 

“Well… It’s not much but welcome home for the next few days.”

Seungcheol helps you into his studio apartment; setting your things by the bed before turning to you.

“So, I take it the cat isn’t real then, huh?” You joke, plopping down onto the sofa. He shoots you a sheepish smile when he sits on the other end, cheeks blooming crimson.

“Uh… no, sorry... If there’s anything I lied about, it was definitely only the cat.”

The two of you share a laugh as you look around the apartment, noting the cookbooks on the kitchen countertop and the extensive PC setup on his desk. “Oh, I should show you around. I mean, it’s not much, but I figure I should let you know where everything is.”

You nod, getting up as Seungcheol starts showing you around the place. He shows you to the bathroom, lets you know where he keeps all of his snacks and even pauses to give you the wi-fi password. You follow him around the place, remarking that it seemed more homey and lived-in than your space did.

“I mean, it’s not much, but it’s comfy. I even tried to be a plant dad but I forgot to water them so that didn’t really work out.”

“Maybe just buy the fake ones for aesthetic purposes, y’know? Give it a greenhouse vibe.”

Seungcheol nods; chuckling as he brings you back to the living space. “Okay, I should go get the things from ‘Guk before it gets any later. And you have a show to do tomorrow too so we should definitely setup once I get back.” He makes sure he has all of his things, keys jingling in his hold as he makes his way to the door.

“Do you need anything else while I’m out? I’ll probably be about 45 minutes, give or take an hour if I catch traffic.”

You shake your head ‘no’ in response, walking up to him. “Just drive safe~” Waving, you wait until the door lock falls into place before you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

In truth, you’d never stopped thinking about the video you had uploaded hours earlier. It had lingered at the back of your head the entire day despite Seungcheol’s valiant efforts to keep your mind off of the entire thing. 

It was the first time you were alone all day and you were finally ready to face the repercussions of your actions, should they have gone sour.

Sitting on the sofa, you unlock your phone before hesitantly opening a web browser and typing in the URL for the camming website. Taking a deep breath, you login, already nervous when the browser lags due to the amount of notifications.

Your eyes quickly flit across the multitude of comments; cheeks hot as your fingers go numb.

“Oh my god…”

Seungcheol gets an earful once he gets the equipment from Jeongguk’s place; the younger male’s smug face ingrained in Seungcheol’s head even when he gets back to the apartment in record speed.

It takes him a bit of trapezing to get everything in one go, cables spilling out of the box that Jeongguk haphazardly put together, but Seungcheol manages to get the door open.

“Oh my god, ‘Cheol, there you are! Please hurry, come look at this!”

He quickly drags in the box, kicking the door shut before hurriedly jogging over to the sofa where you sat with your laptop. “I--I… I don’t know what to say, I’m just…” You quickly turn the screen to let him read the comments, a wide and giddy smile on your face.

‘Whoa… this is amazing…’

‘Wait who’s the guy???’

‘Please please more content like this’

‘Fuck you sound so good begging for daddy like this…’

‘In public? Such a naughty girl… but daddy will give it to you since you asked so nicely…’

‘Shit you really do look good getting fucked like this… better than your toys tbh’

“Whoa…” Seungcheol breathes out, scrolling through the rest as he sits next to you. “It seems like it did pretty damn well, huh?” You nod feverishly, leaning over him as you click on the video’s revenue page.

“‘Cheol look at this… The donations and revenue from this video alone... I--It’s… it’s more than I get in some of my live shows…” You trail off, wide eyes meeting Seungcheol’s equally shocked face.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment; various thoughts running through your head at the possibilities.

Seungcheol fares no different, already feeling the atmosphere change when you place the laptop on the coffee table.

“Seungcheol…” He can only chuckle in response, already knowing the next words that would spill from your lips.

“Let me take a wild guess… You want to film more like this?”

Nodding, you lean in close to him, wrapping your own arms around his as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I know we kinda… agreed to not get intimate so fast and--and I think we have a lot we need to talk about but ‘Cheol… I--I don’t want to beg but… Would you? Film some videos with me, I mean? They don’t have to be, like, both of us, they can just be from your POV and we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with doing on camera!”

He bites the inside of his cheek as he stares off into the living room. “How about this… Let’s set up, since you have a show to do tomorrow. And then Tuesday morning before I head to work, we can talk about it. I’m not saying no, I’m just… there’s some ground rules I think we need to put down first. Hard limits, things we’re okay with filming… Y’know, just, what we’re comfortable with.”

“Okay, yeah! That makes total and complete sense~” You open your mouth to speak again, only a small squeak coming out instead. “Hmm? Something the matter?”

“Just… Thank you. For everything. I really didn’t expect this to do as well as it did and--and just, I guess I’m in shock?” You laugh, pulling away from Seungcheol as he stares down at you. “And to be honest… I mean, it’s not like we haven’t thought about each other, right?”

Seungcheol feels his body getting warmer by the passing second; gulping when he understands what you mean. “Y-yeah, it’s just.. Hah, I guess I thought I’d have more time to woo you over.”

Letting out an airy laugh, you stand from the sofa and make your way towards the momentarily forgotten box of equipment; dragging it towards the bed before you sit on the floor next to it. “You have plenty of time to do that~ And anyway, who says I’m not already woo’d over?” You place a ring light down by your side just as Seungcheol sits on the bed, watching as you go through the items.

“Wow, Jeongguk sure has a lot of really nice equipment in here! Are you sure it’s okay we borrowed it?”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a nerd for video equipment and I’m pretty sure as long as we don’t break anything we’re good.”

It only takes about 35 minutes and Seungcheol stepping on an outlet plug to finish setting up all the lighting equipment and camera as you and Seungcheol finally plop down onto the bed.

“Jeez, I never realized how convoluted it was to set up a few ring lights and one camera. I don’t want to see another cable for at least 50 years.” Seungcheol jokes; wiping a bead of sweat that trickles down his temple. “Is this how it’s set up at your place?”

“Mmhmm~ All the time. It’s like I’m never really ‘offline’.”

He stands from the bed a second later, walking to the fridge to get some water for the two of you. “Really? You don’t ever put the equipment away?”

You sigh softly, flopping onto your back onto the cold sheets. “In a perfect world I would, but it gets really annoying to always take down and put everything back up so I usually kind of just leave them in their places. But it’s fine ‘cause it’s only me anyway and I’m lazy~”

Seungcheol laughs as he places a glass of water next to the bed. “I guess that’s fair. I’d probably do the same.” You get comfy on his bed; eyes already threatening to slide shut.

“We should probably get some sleep, huh? I have work in the morning…” He mumbles, watching as you already seem to drift off into sleep.

“Mmhmm~”

Seungcheol’s bed is comfy.

So comfy that you barely register him leaning down to let you know that he’d be leaving for work. And so comfy that you spend most of your day in it until he gets back.

“Honey, I’m home~” He singsongs; kicking his shoes off at the door before making his way into the kitchen. “I grabbed some takeout on the way back, hope you don’t mind. My cookbooks came in a while ago, but to be honest, I’ve barely even looked at ‘em, much less even opened them up.”

“I don’t mind~ And thank you!”

The two of you set up in the living space, placing the food on the coffee table and easing onto the rug. “So how was work, darling~?”

Seungcheol chokes on a bite of food in an instant, hand on his chest as he tries to swallow it down. “Urgh, f-fine!” He pauses as he clears his airway. “Jeongguk really won’t let me live it down but it’s okay. He asked what you saw in me and that killed my ego a bit.” He snorts.

“Pfft, there’s a lot to like about you! He just doesn’t see ‘that’ side of you, y’know?” Seungcheol blushes, clearing his throat before trying to change the subject. “How was your day? Hope it wasn’t too boring?”

“Mmm~ Not really... Your bed is really comfy though! I didn’t wanna leave it~ Oh! And I spent some time brainstorming some ideas ‘n stuff for tomorrow!”

“Yeah? Anything good?”

Your cheeks flush crimson; a shy smile on your lips. “Maybe~ But we’ll save it for our talk!!”

dom.cheol: aren’t you a pretty lil thing?

angelhan has donated $70

dom.cheol has donated $300

artist8hao: oh? A new location again? It looks nice

alphagyu97: are we all forgetting the most important thing??

alphagyu97: whos the dude???

universe_WZ: you sound pressed over there, u ok?

hoshi_tiger_xx: honestly idrc that video was HOT

“Oh my gosh~ You guys!!” Your eyes flit to the side where Seungcheol sits with his phone in hand; a sly smirk on his face when your eyes meet. “Actually, I didn’t know you’d all like it so much… I kinda just thought to do it on the fly and my---my friend, um, agreed to help me…” Mumbling, you shyly readjust on Seungcheol’s sheets.

gc__koo: a friend? interesting tell me more

sleepy_wonu: who tf

kitty_junjun: i see our babygirl is getting more regulars~ so popular~

You giggle cutely as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Did my video do that well?” You already know the answer but you read off a few more responses, biting your lip when you glance Seungcheol’s way again.

“Actually… my friend is here with me. He’s making sure I behave~”

Seungcheol pauses, head tilted questioningly at you. He mouths a simple ‘what are you doing?’ to which you wink back, readjusting yourself against the headboard.

“He’s really shy though… So he won’t be on camera~ But… But thinking about his fingers so deep in me… Fuck I’m--I’m already…” You trail off; hand reaching for the small bullet vibrator next to you on the bed.

gc__koo: guess he really gave it to you good huh?

xcaliburDK: fuck we kno he did… god that was so hot

tangerine_kwan: ur cute lil pussy was so wet and tight around those fingers, fuck

chwenon has donated $45

chwenon: it was so diff from seeing your own fingers or toys but in a good way

You trail the small vibrator across your body; mewling when you press it against the growing wet patch on your panties. “S-so you guys wouldn’t mind seeing more?”

gentleman_josh95: fuck yea i wanna see more

therealchan99: yes god plz, wanna see that cute lil cunt stretching around a fat cock

Seungcheol blushes as he clenches his jaw, suddenly a little embarrassed.

“Yeah? Mmh, I--I want that too…” You whimper. Using your free hand, you hook your thumb into the waistband of your panties as you shimmy them down before you continue. “Do you think my friend would be so kind as to give it to me~?” You tease; spreading your legs wide in front of the camera.

dom.cheol: if you behave, maybe he will.

artist8hao: mmm he’s right, only good girls get their pussies filled with cock

“Heeeey, but I’m good, right?” You pout, brows furrowing cutely at the camera. “I’ve been so good lately… Think I deserve a reward~”

dom.cheol: do you though? Have you been good, baby?

therealchan99: uh oh trouble in paradise?

gc__koo: maybe hes jealous

Jealous!? Seungcheol exclaims in his head; reminding himself to keep quiet as he stares at you incredulously.

You can only laugh loudly in response, shaking your head as you bring the wet toy up to your lips. You lick the wetness off of the silicone, lips settling into a sly smirk when you set the vibrator to it’s strongest setting.

“Let me show you how good I can be.”

“So, restraints?”

“For me or for you?” You blink up at Seungcheol from a mouthful of cereal, hair messy as you lounge in one of his shirts you happened to find on the floor. “Uh, well, mostly for you. I’m--I’m not opposed to it but… Yeah.”

You get comfy in his makeshift sofa bed, giggling as he sits across from you. “I’m totally cool with it! Oh! Um… you… you’re clean, right? Before we continue.” He nods in response, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I got tested a few weeks ago… Just in case.”

“Okay cool, so… Hmm… ‘Cheol is there anything you don’t want to do?”

“I should be asking you that, baby. ‘Cause I’m okay with anything you want to do… I think.”

“Okay so no piss kinks and no weird diaper baby stuff then.”

Seungcheol snorts, running a hand through his hair. “Sounds good to me. Is there anything you’re… really opposed to? Like choking or spitplay or degradation... I mean, you talking about it on your camshows is different from us doing it in real life so I--I just want to make sure you’re really okay with it.” You nod slowly, taking in his words.

“Yeah… I mean, I wanna try it with you. I trust you.” Pausing, you bite your lip as you try to hide the giddy smile on your face to no avail. “If we’re being honest, the thought of you being rough with me and spitting in my mouth is kinda really hot.”

He grits his teeth, already feeling his cock throb when you say that. “Ooookay, baby, I gotta go to work after this so let’s… not go there right now, okay? I don’t need ‘Guk having any more ammo against me.”

“Sorry, ‘Cheol~ I’ll be good! And--oh, by the way… Um, what about your v-voice? What are we gonna do about that…”

Oh, right.

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating. In truth, he’d been thinking about it since you asked him to help the first time and he knew eventually he’d have to revisit the topic. It seemed like a minuscule thing, but a part of him was a little worried that he’d be recognizable. “I--I’ll think about it. I’m more okay on the idea of it but I’ll let you know before we do anything.” Nodding, you get up from the sofa the same time Seungcheol does, walking with him towards the front door.

“Oh and one last thing, ‘Cheol!”

“Hmm?”

“Safe word?”

He takes a second to think, brows furrowing as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Cranberry.”

You raise a brow, blinking up at Seungcheol. “Really? Cranberry?”

“Yeah, why not, it’s easy to remember and it’s not Cherry but it’s kinda similar?”

“That’s fair, I guess.”

“Hey hyung, cool apartment! Didn’t think I’d see it like that, if you know what I mean.”

“Don’t you have popcorn to burn?”

Seungcheol sighs a breath of relief when he turns the lock to his apartment door; already excited to see you when he gets home from work.

“I’m back!” He yells, toeing his shoes off at the entrance as he sees you quietly shuffle to the entrance.

“I… I was bad today…”

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features as his eyes dance over your form still dressed in one of his t-shirts.

Oh.

Ohhhh. Okay.

“You were bad, huh? Wanna tell me what you did, baby?”

You nod in response, linking your hands with his as you guide him back towards the bed. You hand him your phone, already having it in video mode and recording by the time he adjusts it in his palm

“You don’t have to… say anything if you don’t want to.” Seungcheol nods.

Gulping, you peer up at him once you sit on the bed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left for work… I--I couldn’t stop touching myself thinking about you…” You rub your thighs together; already feeling the wetness pooling between them again.

“I made myself cum and I--I used your pillow to make myself cum and got them dirty… ‘m sorry…”

Seungcheol feels himself slip into character, bringing his free hand up to your hair before he slightly tugs on it.

“So your greedy ‘lil pussy couldn’t wait ‘til I got home from work? And you got my favorite pillows dirty? Naughty ‘lil thing. I can’t even leave you alone for a few hours, can I?”

You feel your body heat up incredibly fast, head tilted up towards the camera as he brings it in closer. You were fully expecting him to keep quiet, but you were incredibly elated to hear him interacting with you. “I k-know, I’m sorry! I couldn’t s-stop thinking about your cock…” He scoffs, grinning down at you when he sees the lust already pooling in your eyes.

“How are you going to make it up to me, baby?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty choking on my cock.”

The tears blur your vision as you swallow around him; pussy throbbing around your fingers at the feeling of him already being too big for your mouth. His hand guides you down until your lips almost reach the base of his cock, a strained moan on his lips when you gag around him. “Ngh, god, your mouth is so fuckin’ small. Bet you can’t wait ‘til my cock is in that pussy of yours, huh?”

You moan around him in response; head getting fuzzy when the lightheadedness starts to bite. You continue to thrust your own fingers into your pussy, prepping yourself for Seungcheol as you scissor and curl the digits.

Seungcheol holds you onto his cock a second more before he tugs on your hair, pulling you off of his cock as you sputter and catch your breath. “You look good like this, baby.” He smirks, letting the camera catch your messy hair, teary eyes and swollen lips before he lets go of your hair.

“Now get on the bed. Legs spread for me.”

You nod; getting up from the floor on shaky legs as Seungcheol lets the camera follow.

You strip off all your clothes and get onto the bed before resting against the pillows and spreading your legs for Seungcheol to situate himself between them.

“You need to be punished for misbehaving, sweetheart. You know you’re not allowed to cum without my permission. And you got my sheets dirty.”

“I know…” You whimper, “I couldn’t help it…”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “I know you can’t. All you ever think about is my cock inside that pussy of yours. What would you do without me, baby? Do you think anyone could satisfy you like I do?”

Seungcheol slots himself between your legs, making sure to keep most of himself out of frame. He wraps his free hand around his cock, running it up and down before bringing his cock to your wet folds. He runs the head through your folds, letting it tap against your clit as you jolt.  “Do you want me?” He whispers; his eyes meeting yours.

He knew this was the second everything would change for the two of you, and he wanted to make sure you truly wanted it before he took the leap.

“Yes, please… I want you so bad…” You whimper, legs wrapping around Seungcheol’s waist. He nods shakily, making sure your phone is angled down as he slowly sinks his cock into your pussy.

The two of you share a broken moan as Seungcheol’s grip on your phone tightens and your own hands find purchase in the pillow tucked underneath your head.

Seungcheol was big.

And the stretch had you whining; a small sting biting into you as he slowly eased his cock into you. “Relax for me, sweetheart. You’re already so fuckin’ tight around me. You need to relax a little more.”

You try your best to even your breathing as you also attempt to relax; pupils blown wide when you look straight into the camera. “G-god, you’re so b-big, oh, I--I’m--a-ah!” Tiny cries spill from your lips as you cum unexpectedly, nails digging into the pillow as your walls flutter around him.

“Hmm~ Only got half my cock into your tight pussy and you’re already cumming? So easy.” He laughs, letting you ride out your high as he waits.

Internally, Seungcheol was dying. There were so many things he wanted to say but couldn’t; knowing he, too, at this moment, was playing a character with you.

“Fuck, your pussy is so warm and wet and I’m not even all the way in yet. Think you can still take the rest of me, baby?”

“I, hah, y-yes, please! Wanna fuh--feel all of y-you…” Mumbling, you don’t even wait to come down from your high before you’re already wanting more; squirming underneath him.

“If you say so~”

Seungcheol inches in the rest of his cock, exhaling harshly when he bottoms out completely. “Holy fuck, you’re so goddamn tight!” His free hand grips your thigh, nails digging into the flesh as he gives you a second to adjust to his size. You can feel your entire body trembling, pussy clenching around him as the sting from the stretch starts to subside and bleed into unadulterated pleasure. “God, please--please m-move!”

He starts slow at first, only shallowly thrusting into you as the two of you get used to each other’s body. And despite your first time together being on camera, Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind all too much, although he does remember to keep himself out as much as possible.

Your breathy moans and clipped breaths are music to his ears when he starts going a little faster; the sweat starting to trickle down his temple when he keeps at a moderate pace. “O-oh, fuck!” A string of incoherent curses follow as you wince when the head of Seungcheol’s cock taps your cervix.

“Oh, go----d, right there, please, it feels so g-good!”

“Right here? Does it feel good when you’re full of my cock?” Seungcheol clenches his jaw when you tighten around him, small curses falling from his own lips.

“Yes, yes, god, fuck… I--ngh!” Your eyes clamp shut as you fully get lost in pleasure; your head tossed back into the pillow when Seungcheol thrusts into you particularly hard.

You hear him laugh lightly, followed by a buzzing noise that has your eyes peeling open. “H-huh?”

Seungcheol smiles down at you, eyes filled with mischief when he plays with the settings on the vibrator in his hand.

“Well, you wanted to cum so bad that you did it without my permission, right? Since you wanna cum so bad, let’s see it, sweetheart.” He brings the toy to your clit; letting the vibrations throw your body into overdrive as your back arches off of the sheets.

“A-ah, Seu--Mmh! Fuck ‘m g-gonna cum a-again!” You cry, thighs quivering around his waist as he keeps the silicone toy pressed up against your swollen clit.

He doesn’t let up as he starts to thrust into you quicker, fucking you through your orgasm as he chases his. “God, your fuckin’ cunt was made for me. Bet you want me to cum inside too, huh? Fill you up nice and good until it’s spilling out of you?”

“Please, please, please!”

“You gotta cum for me one more time, baby. Get my cock wet.” You let out a choked cry, lashes wet with tears when he sets the toy to its strongest setting.

“Mmh, ‘m so s-sensitive… I--- I don’t know if--if I can, ah, cum a-again…” Seungcheol licks his lips watching your fucked out expression, cock throbbing between your walls. “I know you can, baby. I can feel you already getting tight around me again.”

And Seungcheol’s right; only a few more thrusts from him before you’re cumming one last time, heels digging into the small of his back as he finally shuts the toy off and grinds against you. And this time, your lips part in a silent scream, back arching off of the bed as your entire body goes rigid underneath him.

He makes sure to do a full sweep of your body through the camera in the midst of your high, halting his movements as he lets you ride it out before he continues.

“Oh my g-god, I--fu--fuck…”

Your body finally untenses after a few minutes; chest heaving in deep breaths as Seungcheol resumes his pace.

“Ready for me to cum inside that cute ‘lil cunt of yours?”

“Mmh, yes, give it to me~”

Seungcheol snickers, thrusting into you hard one last time before he pulls out completely. “That’s too bad~” He taunts, wrapping his free hand around the shaft of his cock. “Only good girls get creampies~” He lets out a cocky laugh, running his hand up and down his cock as he positions it over your abdomen.

You clench around emptiness, a weak moan floating through the air when Seungcheol finally cums, painting your chest in warm wet streaks of the salty substance. “Fuck, but you look so pretty covered in my cum too…” He grits out, cock throbbing in his palm as he works himself through his orgasm.

You watch him through foggy eyes; licking your chapped lips as you watch his brows furrow in concentration and his eyes slide shut as he, too, gets overwhelmed with bliss.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, palm sweaty around the phone as his thumb hovers over the ‘stop’ button. “W-wait…”

“Hmm? What’s wrong, baby?”

You run your fingers through the rivulets of cum coating your skin, gathering the viscous liquid on your fingertips before you bring them up to your mouth to lick them clean. “We can’t let it go to waste, can we?” Popping the digits into your mouth, you moan around your fingers as you clean Seungcheol’s cum off of them.

“You’re right, baby. We shouldn’t.”

You smile up at him, eyes dancing towards the camera for what feels like the first time in a long time before popping the digits out of your mouth.

Seungcheol’s eyes follow your movements, throat dry when you run your fingertips through the settling cum again. Except this time, you drag your fingers down until they’re teasing your clit, coating it in his cum. “Ngh, w-wanted you to cum inside but…”

His shaky eyes follow the way your fingers dip lower and lower until your cum coated fingers sink into your swollen pussy. He mentally screams, half tempted to shut off the camera.

“That’s right, baby. You want my cum so bad that you have to do it yourself, huh? Maybe next time you’ll remember to behave, won’t you?”

Nodding, you repeat the same steps a few more times; fingering Seungcheol’s cum into your pussy until most of it is cleaned off of your chest.

“I promise I won’t misbehave again~” You coo.

You wait a few seconds before you lean up, hand circling Seungcheol’s wrist as you bring the phone down and press the ‘stop’ button yourself.

“And scene!” You blurt out, laying back down in a tired mess as Seungcheol chuckles above you.

“Well, can’t say I expected that, if I’m being honest.” He moves back, eyes fixated on his cum that dries on your skin and the little bit that trickles from your pussy. “I’ve gotta ask, did you really… before I got home…”

“Honestly? Yeah… I mean the--the pillows were a lie ‘cause I didn’t wanna get them dirty but…” You chuckle tiredly, aiming to sit up which you find difficult to do. “Fuck, ‘Cheol, I think you broke me!” He pouts in response, leaning over you to make sure you were okay.

“Did I though? Be honest. ‘Cause I wasn’t expecting to go that hard on our first time together but it just---it--I--”

“Whoa, it’s okay! Seungcheol, relax. You didn’t hurt me… I r-really liked it actually… It felt--You felt really good. And I just wanted to, um, say sorry. I kinda sprung that on you out of nowhere too.”

“Honestly? I didn’t mind. I seemed to fall into character a lot easier than I expected which shocked me too.” 

The two of you fall into a comfortable yet shy silence; catching your breath.

Seungcheol makes the first move, sliding off of the bed as you fight off the sleep that threatens to take you. “Hey, we need to get you cleaned up and hydrated. I need to change the sheets too.”

“Mmm.. but ‘m tired, ‘Cheol…”

He smiles at your tired form, helping you into a sitting position before shuffling to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. “I know you’re tired. And you can go to sleep after we get you cleaned off, get the sheets changed and probably eat a little, okay?”

“Mmkay~ Oh, but the video…” He passes you the glass, making you finish it before you continue.

“What about the video?”

You wipe at your dry lips, handing the glass back to Seungcheol. “We… We should probably watch it back and edit it a bit to make sure everything’s okay, shouldn’t we? Just in case we, um, said something we shouldn’t have or something...”

A blush blooms on Seungcheol’s skin, suddenly shy at the idea that he’d have to not only listen to himself but also watch, at least, part of himself on camera. “R-right, which--which we can do tomorrow when I get back from work. If that’s okay with you?”

You nod up at him, a beaming smile on your face.

“It’s definitely okay with me~”

[palbabor-writes]

Quarter-Century

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mild heavy petting, but this is pretty tame, oh & lots of fluff, likely enough to kill someone, so watch out for that, k?

What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do.

Words: 3754

Notes: if i call this a drabble are y’all gonna get mad at me? 

Quarter-Century quar·ter-cen·tu·ry /ˈkwôrdər/ - /ˈsen(t)SH(ə)rē/ noun  a period of 25 years

Twenty-five.  

It’s always spoken about like it’s some kind of milestone. Eh, it’s just another year, Kiyoomi thinks, tugging his sweaty shirt off of his back and walking toward the MSBY team dressing room, there’s nothing special about it. 

He’d woken up at 5:25, taken his first shower, kissed your sleeping form absentmindedly on the cheek before he left the bedroom, and jogged the three miles to the training facility.

He’d worked on his digs, on his jump float, and looked over the drills. The team had two practice games and had huddled up for the review at the end, the same as always. As Kiyoomi made his way out of the locker room Atsumu and Bokuto had both clapped him on the back, joking about the fleeting joys of ‘youth,’ and congratulating him on his performance on the court before they all went their separate ways, each gliding along their own trajectory. 

No, there’s nothing special about birthdays.

You’re not back from work when he gets home, so Kiyoomi pads around the empty apartment, flitting from room to room, disjointedly flipping on lights and switching them back off seconds later. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Should he take a nap? He could sleep off these uncharacteristic and frustrating jitters that keep coursing through him. No, he reconsiders naps just make him groggy and irritable. What else?

He’s showered twice today, there’s no need for another, and it looks like you’d cleaned up the living room and kitchen before you’d left for the day, so there’s nothing for him to clean either. Ugh, what’s with this restlessness? 

There are old matches that he can watch, already primed and loaded onto his laptop, but it’s charging in the bedroom, likely tucked under some of your leaflets and various heapings of paperwork. It’d be a pain to move everything.

Eh, he could start a puzzle, maybe flip through some channels, see what’s on TV, and there’s that book that you’d told him he should check out, he’s weeks behind on starting that, but it’s in the bedroom too, and–

Damn it. It feels like he’s stuck in some kind of loop.

He flops down on the couch, tipping his dark head back, obsidian curls fanning around his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do. He smiles at that thought, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep exhale. It’ll be alright, he reasons, you’ll get back and he’ll shake himself out of this funk, and then maybe he can–

The sudden scrape of the lock turning makes him jump, and he pops his head up just as you step through the door, a smattering of canvas bags tucked under your coiled hands. You spot him as you tap the door closed, a broad grin lighting up your face. “Hey there!” you call out, stepping toward the kitchen to deposit your purchases. “Did you just get home? Practice go okay?” 

“It went well,” Kiyoomi replies, hunching forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That reminds me, the next match is this weekend, you still planning on going?”

“Yeah!” you confirm, tucking a few things into the fridge before you pace over to his seated figure. “It’s right before the playoffs start, so it’ll likely be one of the last ones I can get a good seat to. Once you guys get in those end of season bouts it gets...Hey, you sure you’re alright? You look a little, I don’t know, downcast?” You kneel in front of him, your hands reaching, stroking gently over his hair and down his jaw. 

“I’m fine. Feel a little...off...is all. Happens.”

“Off?” you question, bright eyes finally catching his onyx. “Well, we can’t have that. Not today!”

“Hmph, it’s just a Saturday,” Kiyoomi huffs, catching your wrists and lowering your hands from his face. 

“Yes,” you continue, watching as he distractedly toys with your hands, trailing his thumbs over your fingers and flipping your palms this way and that within his hold. “It’s also a Saturday where I’ve played the role of good– no great, girlfriend and got us some tickets! Surprise!”

“Tickets?” he echoes, his head cocking to the side as he lifts his gaze back to yours. “To what? If it’s some kinda concert, not to be an ass, but I don’t really want to go to a–”

“Really?” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at his morose expression. “You think, after two years of dating, that I’d take you to a concert? You? Kiyoomi Sakusa, the man who is pretty much allergic to crowds, who completely dipped out of a shoe store once because there were five people in the ‘athletic wear’ section, who abhors the mere thought of tight spaces and groups of twenty or more, thought that I, his loving partner, decided to put some some color into his living nightmares, and on his birthday no less, by bringing him to a concert?”

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and exhales a tight laugh. “When you put it that way, no. But on the off chance that you did, and you’re trying to bluff your way out of the situation by over elaborating your reasons for not bringing me, well…I’m gonna have to decline the gift.”

You narrow your eyes at his impassive face and purse your lips. “And to think, I was gonna come over here and give you a kiss and everything.” 

“You’ll still give me one,” Kiyoomi smarts, a coquettish smirk lifting his lips when you openly scoff at him. “So, out with it, what are the tickets to?”

“Oh? Now you wanna know? Suddenly you’re curious. Well you can hold on to that buddy, cuz’ I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s my birthday,” he intones simply, broad palms already sliding up your arms, pulling you closer. You smell nice, Kiyoomi thinks, lips barely missing your own as you twist playfully away from him.

“Pfft, what happened to ‘it’s just a Saturday?’” you tease, following his insistent tugs, one knee pressing down into the cushions of the couch as you lower yourself over his lap. 

“Changed my mind,” Kiyoomi states, finally catching you and caressing his lips sinfully against yours. “I’m allowed to do that,” he continues, sucking a rasp from you as he drags his sharp teeth across the plush swell of your lower lip. “Mmm, you might have gotten a little distracted, so let me repeat my question: what are the tickets to?” 

He is genuinely interested; he wants to know what you’ve planned for the two of you, but his hands have already started that downward journey, long digits stroking over the curves that flow down your side, cupping and pulling just the way you like. Your knees lift when he buries his fingertips into the flesh of your upper thighs and you sigh, breath warm against his flushed cheeks. 

Actually, this is fine. After all, he’s good at this. He’s had plenty of time to learn you, to practice, and he loves that he knows just what to do to make you quake between his heated palms. But when he jerks you closer, your lips slip from his and you’re careful to brace yourself away, momentarily safe from his distracting caresses. 

“Baseball,” you pant, hands resting over the hard plane of his pectorals.

“Huh?” he queries, heavy brows furrowing, wholly distracted by the rise and fall of your uneven breaths and the gentle twitch of your spread legs against his hips. 

“A baseball game. I got us tickets to a baseball game.”

“It’s smaller than what I was picturing,” Kiyoomi says, adjusting the placement of his mask before looking down at you. “And what are you gonna do with that bag? Can you even take that in here?”

You laugh at his question, hoisting the thick strap of your insulated pack higher on your shoulder. “It’s the Yomiuri Giants, they’re part of the minor league so it’s a smaller stadium and don’t worry, they let you bring coolers and snacks in.”

“Eh? Snacks? Don’t they have concessions? Seems counter-productive if they let you bring your own food. How are they supposed to make money? Atsumu said that half of our vendors make a good deal of their revenue from their booths during the playoffs and the regular season. So I don’t see how that’s practical. What do you have in there, anyway? It looks heavy. Oh. Did you want me to carry it?”

“I’m not sure which one of those I should answer first,” you grin, dodging his extended hand and stepping forward. “Come on, I think we can head in now.”

The seats are located in the shade of the upper deck, right behind the third base, giving you both a perfect bird's-eye view of the action that will take place down on the field below. True to your word, the ticket inspectors had let you and your pack pass through without a word of protest, and as he flipped down his plastic seat, you carefully tucked the thick canvas between the two of you. 

“What’s in it?” he asked again, peering over your shoulder as you unzipped the long teeth and reached into the dark depths, hands searching for something. 

“You’ll see,” you promise, leaning back once you found your prize, a small bottle of hand sanitizer. You pop the lid up and nod for his palms, carefully pressing some of the clear antiseptic onto his hands. “Game should start soon,” you inform, repeating the cleaning process yourself before closing the top and tossing the bottle back into the bag. “And I wanna make sure you’re set before I head down to the concession stands.”

“So it’s food,” he determines, slipping his mask off of his face, tucking it under his chin, an appreciative smile winding its way up his lips. 

“Of course it is! You think I’d leave you to languish for 9 innings while I sit beside you, gorging myself on the delicious food they sell at the concessions, which you refuse to eat? Alas, not even I am that cruel. Nah, I brought something that I hope you’ll like.”

“I’ll like it,” Kiyoomi replies, resting his muscled shoulder against yours, watching as you arrange a few clear sets of Tupperware in your hands, lifting them evenly out of the bag. 

“Careful,” you jab, tossing him a mischievous grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s from you; I’ll like it.”

Your hands still after his declaration and you twist your head back to him, eyes wide, searching his placid expression. “Okay,” you laugh, setting the Tupperware aside, fully turning to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, your other hand cupping his cheek, pulling him down to your seeking lips. “That was too much. There some sort of class you stoic types take? How to make others swoon in five lessons, or less?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, prying your hands from him. “It’s true. No need to make a big deal about it. You put a lot of effort into today, and I...I just think that...I mean...thanks,” he finishes lamely, dark eyes balefully avoiding yours. You chuckle again and reward him with another peck to his cheek.  

“So cute.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Weren’t you gonna show me something? Better hurry. After all, there’s still time for me to mess it up.”

“What does that mean?” you puzzle, pulling away.

“I dunno. I always say the wrong shit. You know that.”

“Well,” you ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “We’re at a baseball game, so, in the spirit of the sport, why don’t I give you three strikes?”

“Just three? I mean, wow, that’s so generous of you.”

You flash him a quick glare, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Oooh, swing and a miss. Strike one!”

He’s just about to give you some retort when you press two of the containers into his hands. The heat of the plastic feels nice against his calloused palms, and he can see the fresh steam that surrounds the food that’s waiting inside. “Onigiri?” he questions, popping the lid, mouth watering at the sight of all of that pristine rice. Damn, when did you have time to make these?

“Homemade onigiri with pickled plums,” you inform him, a gleeful smile lighting up your face, pleased that he’s already reaching for one, a look of genuine happiness falling over his usually impassive expression.

“You remembered,” he murmurs, picking up the carefully shaped ball and lifting it to his lips. He bites into the fluffy rice, fastidiously letting the flavors fall over his tongue and across his pallet. It’s perfect, he thinks as he chews, just the right amount of pickled savoriness and clean, delicate grains. Damn, when did you do all of this?

You let him finish the first onigiri before you pass him a can of beer. It’s chilled, likely sitting toward the bottom of the bag, and he flicks a stray chip of ice off of the rim. A sealed can of beer, a carefully packed meal. Is there anything you haven’t thought of?

He’s just about to turn, to tell you that...well, he’s not sure what exactly. Maybe it is something about how lucky he is. How he’s somehow stumbled into something so sublime, so wonderful, as you, and how he should tell you that more, when you stand. 

“I’m going to hop down to the food stands. Inning should open up any minute. I’m glad this is an off season game, we’ve pretty much got this whole deck to ourselves! Be right back, ‘kay?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hands, your smile, your eyes, just everything that he can see that’s you, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. What’s he gonna say? Don’t go? Stay here. He’ll go down. 

He’ll do whatever you want; anything for you, anything.

You tilt your head at his stony, almost stricken expression, but you don’t comment on it, content with tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear before you spring up the steps, stepping away from his overwhelmed and utterly entranced form. 

Damn. 

He’s scrolling through his phone when the 1st inning ends, thumb whisking over the lists of required paperwork, the $50 dollar notarial fee, the Kon-in Todoke, mentally counting up the required signatures, the necessary witnesses. This is crazy, he thinks, skimming over the U.S. Embassy & Consulate regulations on the ‘Affidavit of Competency to Marry’ in Japan, he hasn’t even talked with you about this, but he’s honestly never felt more sure of anything in his life.

Right as he flips to a secondary tab, one that holds a few jewelry stores and ideas about ‘how to pop the question,’ he catches sight of you. You slide down the row of empty seats, your hands filled with various snacks and a tall glass of foaming beer. 

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting to take that long, I completely missed the 1st inning! Good thing no one scored. Hopefully things will liven up with the 2nd and 3rd innings.” You settle in beside him, setting your beer against the cold concrete before jostling your popcorn and hot dog to your opposite hand, eyes peering over the brightly lit field. 

Kiyoomi bites back his grin and switches his phone off, obscuring the glittering pixels of diamonds and his future plans from view and tucks his device into his jacket pocket. You turn to look at him, your eyes narrowing and brow arching at his poorly controlled attempts to hide his giddiness. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he replies, slinging a long arm around your shoulders, tugging you close and planting a quick kiss against your temple.

“Liar,” you accuse, leaning back, eyes following the sharp angles of his handsome face.

“What made you pick baseball? You feeling homesick or something?”

“Hmph, no! I just...hmm, how to put this. I figured it’d be nice to take you to a game that’s not volleyball. One that we can just watch. There’s no need to worry about analyzing anyone’s performance, or your own here…you can just relax.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head at you, a few errant curls falling over his brow. “Do I do that when we go to a volleyball game?”

You nearly choke on your beer. “Mmm...koff...do you do that? Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, obsidian eyes watching you closely. Wait, is he a pain to go to a game with?

“Kiyoomi?”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t about to take you to a volleyball game for your birthday. That’d be like you taking me back to the office and asking me to celebrate with you in the staff break room. I mean, I know you love the sport, but it’s your job. It’s what you do all day. Besides, the last time we went to a match I don’t think you said more than five words to me and you were constantly writing down the plays on your phone. I–Oh! That’s not a bad thing, not at all! It makes sense,” you amend, catching sight of his abruptly ashen expression. 

“It’s just...you’re good...no good doesn’t cut it...you’re amazing at what you do. You’ve got that hunger that all the sports documentaries I’ve ever watched talk about and you’re constantly looking to improve. It’s impressive, really! But...I just thought this might be a change of pace. Something that we could both go to, could watch, with no additional stakes. Who cares who wins? I mean, I want the home team to, obviously, but we can leave here when it’s over and just take memories, not more worries or challenges. And definitely not any notes. Sorry, that prolly’ sounds so rude, but I really want you to relax today. You more than deserve it.”

“It’s perfect,” Kiyoomi confirms, finally leaning back against the strong plastic of his seat, pulling you closer, bringing his knee toward your thigh, pressing until he can feel the heat of you past the material of his jeans. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do. If you’re happy, then I’m happy! Oh! Speaking of, you gotta try this beer! It’s so good!”

He looks skeptically down at the plastic glass that’s still clutched between your fingers. “No. I’m not drinking out of that cup.”

“Kiyoomi,” you begin, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know we live together, right? If I pick anything up from this, then, and I hate to tell you this, but you’ll get it too, eventually.”

With a scoffed exhale and a curl of his lip he leans away from you, nose wrinkling distastefully at your threat.

“Come on,” you taunt, shaking the cup playfully in your hand, “You won’t regret it!”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, you know that?”

“Never heard that before,” he laughs, coiling himself toward you, his arm around your back, squeezing you closer, holding on as tight as he can. 

It’s dark when the two of you get back home, but you won’t let him flip on the overhead lights, not yet. “Just wait, gimme a sec. There’s one more thing I wanna do...why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll turn on the lamp and be right back, promise.”

Obediently, he perches on the edge of the cushions and waits. 

He can hear you as you move around the kitchen, and he feels like he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. Throughout the game, on the cab ride home, as he stood behind you in the darkened hallway, waiting for you to unlock the door, he’d kept his hands on you. It was like you were some kind of magnet and he couldn’t help but be tugged forward by your irresistible pull. 

“Hey! Close your eyes!” you call, feet soft against the wood as you pad back to him. He shakes his head at your request, a faint smile pulling at his lips, but he obliges you. How can he not? “No peeking,” you warn, and he it’s like he can almost feel you again as you come to stand in front of him once more. “Alright…I think that’s good. Now...open them!”

The space in front of him is bathed in a soft glow, with whisking yellows and gentle oranges dancing, flickering across your arms. The light from the candle illuminates your face, catching against your eyes and making them shine, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing anymore. 

“I know it’s not much,” you justify, cupping your fingers around the delicate flame and lifting the cupcake toward him. “But I learned my lesson last year. Got you that huge cake and the leftovers languished in the fridge for almost a week. And you know what they say, less is more, right?”

Without thinking, his hands race forward, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “Woah,” you exhale, a laugh bubbling from your lips. “Careful! I don’t wanna catch you on fire. Some birthday that would be. Come on, time’s a’wasting birthday boy, blow it out and make a wish!”

He’d lied earlier. 

When he’d thought that there was nothing special about birthdays. There is something special about this birthday and, for the first time, he knows just what he’s going to wish for. 

It’s easy to blow out the light. It’s a little harder to protect the cupcake from his downward tug, his hands insistent, firm, but somehow you safely tuck it behind you and twist back to him, fingers lacing into his onyx curls. 

“What did you wish for?” you ask, settling yourself across his lap.

“Can’t tell you yet,” Kiyoomi answers honestly, lips already seeking yours.

“Huh? You’re not supposed to tell me at all!”

“Too bad,” he intones, silencing any further retorts with the heady persuasion of his caresses and wandering touch. “I’m gonna tell you soon. Now let me enjoy you.”

notes: hbd! shoutout to @albinoburrito for her excellent edits and suggestions :*

[superlinguo]

Practical advice if you want to start a podcast

I wrote a post for the RED team at La Trobe with some general advice for podcasting, but I’ve found there are some recurring questions that I get about setting up a podcast. This post is here to answer those questions.

If you’re not interested in starting a podcast, but want to listen to more linguistics podcasts, I’ve got a list for you!

I last updated this post in June 2021 - if you find this post a few years after this you might want to search for some more up to date specs. I’ll continue to update this from time to time as new questions (or answers) come up.

Picture your audience

Before you make any decisions about your show, know who it is for. Your topic might be incredibly niche and have an audience in the hundreds, which is very different to a potentially larger but less engaged audience. See the classic blog post from Kevin Kelly on the power of 1000 true fans. Knowing your potential audience, where they hang out online, and how they’re likely to support you, will help your decision making. I have a self-guided slide set for refining your project before you start working on it. It’s also ok to know who you don’t want as your audience, and make choices that don’t actively include them. Do this early and clearly so people aren’t disappointed. For example, having a show with clearly noted explicit language selects away from young kids and their parents.

The length and format of your show are a product of your aims

I personally like shows in the 25-35 minute range. But, having said that, I love Shortwave, which regularly clocks in at 10 minutes, and I’m disappointed when an episode of You’re Wrong About is less than an hour.

Know your audience and the level of depth you want to explore a topic in. The frequency of episodes and the amount of time you have to prepare and edit will also affect how long episode end up. Record a few episodes first and share them with people you trust will give you good feedback.

The best interviews are conversations

Good interviews are just conversations that are intentionally lopsided, and good interviewers make the conversation feel like it’s not lopsided. Do your homework, write out some questions, and then take a step back and actually listen to the person you’re interviewing.

Anyone who has done even a few interviews has already faced most of the questions you first think of. There are some fixes for this: push through your initial brainstorming, think about the specific angles on their topic that are most relevant to your audience and (again) listen to what the person is telling you. Like many podcasting skills, good interviewing takes practice, and you can practice by staying curious about humans you interact with in any area of your life, not just your podcast guests.

Use the best mics you can, but don’t over-invest

You don’t have go and buy the fanciest tech. If you have access to a studio, great! If you don’t, then decide what your budget is. When we started Lingthusiasm, Gretchen recorded into her phone, because we were running the show on no budget and had no idea if we’d stick it out more than 6 months. When we started making money we got Gretchen a Zoom H4n to match mine. It’s still not the fanciest, but it’s rugged and adequate, especially if you make sure you’re in a closet with some blankets. Do I regret the earlier episodes of Lingthusiasm don’t sound amazing? Not as much as I would have regretted investing hundreds of dollars in a podcast that had 4 episodes.

Edit your show

Even a light edit will make the show easier for your audience to listen to, and show respect for the people you interview. I know people believe there’s an aesthetic of authenticity that comes with not editing, but all podcasting is a performance. Editing is a politeness to your audience.

Editing means a very wide range of things. You can do full production editing, including the addition of music, multiple different voice-overs and voices reading parts (e.g. getting someone else to read author quotes to bring them to life) and additional sound effects. Or you might just edit out the start and end of the recording, and any false starts and errors throughout the show. A lot of the pauses and fillers we use in conversation are designed for an audience who is in on the conversation and can reply, and can feel like they’re holding up a conversation when you’re a passive listener like a podcast audience. Many of the best conversational podcasts are given an edit to make them easier on the ears.

I use audacity to edit

Audacity is free to use. It takes a little longer to learn than something like GarageBand, but once you know how to use it, you’ll be much faster at editing. I appreciate that it has stayed pretty much the same since I started using it almost 15 years ago.

Get your levels right

Once you’ve edited your show, making sure there aren’t too many loud laughs, or your two hosts aren’t unbalanced in loudness. You’ll also need to make sure your podcast isn’t too loud or soft compared to others in people’s list. You need to regularise it. A lot of podcasts regularise to -16 LUFS. A few other numbers bounce around (-14, -18), but this is what we use and no one complains.  Audacity can’t do it. You can process a certain number of hours of audio for free each month using the web-based Auphonic. It’s great. 

There’s lots of great free music to use

You want to look for music that has a license that’s free to use. Even if you don’t plan to make money from your podcast, make sure the license includes commercial use so you don’t limit your future options. SoundCloud and YouTube have lots of options, as does Kevin MacLeod - who has created royalty-free music in a massive range of genres. 

Web hosting is different to getting your show on iTunes

We use SoundCloud to upload and share our audio. It’s fine. I have no complaints. Once you’ve uploaded a few hours of audio you’ll have to pay annually for a pro account. Anchor seems to be a good new competitor, it’s free - I assume they make money off people choosing to run ads on their podcasts. You then generate an RSS feed, which is the thing that points all the podcast players to the place you’ve uploaded your recording. You’ll then have to add your show to major podcast platforms (Apple Podcast, Google Podcast), smaller ones will pick it up from there.

It takes a few days for your show to get picked up on all the podfeeders

Launching a podcast is a bit of a mess - it will go live on your hosting site but then you’ll have to set yourself up with iTunes, Google Podcast etc. and that can take a few days to update and populate. The sites that are popular, and the process of linking into those spaces, changes often enough that you should just google advice when you’re ready to launch, and give yourself a few days. This is part of why some podcasts launch a short ‘episode 0′ or a trailer, it gets the show set up.

Transcripts should be one of the first things you fund

Not every podcast has the time or funds to make transcripts. I do think they’re important though; for people who can’t or don’t want to listen, for discoverability and for your own record when you can’t remember when you talked about a specific story. If you have any time or money and want to be taken seriously at all, this should be one of your earliest priorities. This is even more true for educational podcasts, where a transcript ensures all students can appreciate the content of your show.

You don’t neeeeed a website, but it’s handy

You can run a show using a hosting platform and some social media. Having a website does allow you to add more information about the show and yourself. The Lingthusiasm page has grown over the years as the show has; we made a page for our liveshow events, we provide a list of episodes by topic, information about our Discord community, and our marvelous wall of supporters. The website was much more minimal when we started, but compared to just having a SoundCloud it gave the show room to grow.

You probably want socials, but be selective

You need to make your podcast discoverable by people who are likely to be your audience. Social media is one way to do this, but it’s better to be actually engaging on fewer social platforms than overextend yourself. Focus on platforms that are the intersection of where your possible fans are likely to be and where you enjoy being.

Funding a podcast takes time, and takes work

There are three main revenue streams for podcasts: advertising, crowdfunding and merch. A fourth option is institutional support (through your university or business), but then you’re beholden to the funder. Whichever revenue options work for you, think about them and plan towards them early. Part of that is making sure your podcast gets in as many ears as possible. Most successful podcasts spend as much, if not more, time on marketing, audience engagement and business planning as they do podcasting (it’s just not very glamorous to admit that!).

Choose whether each episode can stand alone

Some podcasts build a narrative over multiple episodes. Others allow listeners to jump in at any point and listen in any order. Whatever you choose, make this clear to your audience. This choice is going to influence a range of choices around what information to include in the opening and closing, how topical to make the show, and how you promote your podcast. 

Seasons are a great structure to keep a podcast manageable

Regardless of whether your show runs in a sequence, planning a season with a fixed number of episodes allows you to take some time off, to maybe change some things that weren’t working, or to step away from the project with a podcast that hasn’t been left hanging.

[hawksugarbaby]

Fatgum x reader- Atlas

Fluff + Greek mythology AU.

You were nothing more than a simple human, roaming the built up world to find something new and interesting, something no one could see but you, a secret for you and the universe to hold together. You needed to find something special is what you thought, taking a break at the atlas mountains in the scorching Morroccon sun. sweat bead down your forehead and your skin was hot to the touch but the adventure and experience, the trials to find something undiscovered was worth the peeling skin on your shoulders being soothed by aloe over and over.

Your persistence to find the unknown secret may have started genuinely, you wanted to find what the universe wanted you too, but eventually it gave you a reason to travel the world. You've travelled to 28 countries in 4 years, beginning at 18 and now you're 22, you skipped uni and college, you made money from ad revenue on youtube since your vlogs became popular, and you were incredible when it came to saving money.

Of course, you were still searching, but now you felt like you had even bigger reasons. Exploring the world, drinking in fountains of culture and knowledge, that was perfection enough. But the secret was missing.

You stood up rolling your neck and started your walk up rocky paths of mud and stone to the sandy houses forming a village and your senses lead you to a vendor, golden couscous with colourful, roasted vegetables mixed through smelled amazing and glasses of fresh mint tea lined up for you to drink while eating couscous at the vendors stall. You requested a glass of the tea, sat down, and drank it too quickly, burning your tongue from the hot water. You sucked in sharply and hummed in pain. "Thank you!" you said paying for the drink and continuing to the mountains past the beige buildings with terracotta tile roofs.

You felt like if you walked between the fingers of the mountain grabbing the earth with their hands you would find something unknown. You walked around the spurs peering into the joining point of each interlocked section but none tugged you in, pulled you towards them with mystery.

Apart from one. The sun was on the opposite side so technically there should have been no light, but it seemed perfectly visible to you? Was it a trick of the light? Possibly an illusion? Either way your heart longed to investigate and so you did. You trudged forward kicking a stone out your way and looked at the joining line. "You have to be something right?" you muttered and put your hand between the drack. You drew a triangle, mimicking the shape the spurs made and as quickly as you could blink, the mountain began to shake, not violently, but it trembled like being coerced into sharing it's deepest secrets.

"Okay... mountains don't usually do that" you say with wide eye's as the seam rips apart and balls of moss and rock tumble into a pile on the floor. Was it a doorway for you? Who knew, you didn;t care, whatever it was you were finding out one way or another.

You stepped into the cavern, dripping stalagmites made your head turn in the direction of every 'plop' into the puddle and your hands brushed against the side of the wall for stability and a sense of surrounding. "These feel like bricks?" you whisper in a questioning tone as your eye's begin to adjust to the dark and you found that you were going aimlessly through a long, triangular corridor. The bricks were a muted clay colour with green moss and algae blanketing them, the grout in the walls was black and viridian unidentifiable as something anyone had ever known of.

The terracotta sparsely began to cut into black white and grey granite eventually forming a whole wall as if the bricks had never been there to begin with. The marble was just as unkempt and ruined as the bricks but the walls got wider, further and further away from each other until they opened into a wide, white cavern, glowing and inhumanely clean. In the middle was a statue of a hulking man, holding the sky. He wore no shirt and had a pair of orange shorts on and black sandals, sandals that looked real and hyper-realistic looking shorts that flowed with the draft and skin you could see the detail of every pore in. hold on... fabric made of marble should not flow in the wind and should not be such an even orange no matter how much paint.

You slowly looked up, the chest rising and falling with a huffing breath it had to take, the hands trembled and the lips quivered. The hairs on his leg and arm stuck up with the chill of the wind and his elbows dropped slightly making the sky move. Finally, you dared look at the eye's of the giant, who was looking back at you confused as a bee trying to escape through a shut window. Mustard yellow eye's with sunken bag's looked right back at you and you backed up letting out a girlish scream.

"Hey hey wait!!" he shouted, wishing he could reach out and shake your hand or reach after you to emphasise that he wanted you to stay. "Please! Please don't go. I don't have anyone to talk to, I promise I won't hurt you!" he begged, glancing at your figure backing up and starfishing against a wall like it would absorb you and push you out the other side. "Y-you you're talking! And moving! But you, you're a statue?" you shook your hands in front of you and he laughed lightly. "I'm not a statue, I'm a titan. I'm just a big God to be honest, big God doing his job" he nodded his head at his rhyming ability and you slid down the wall grazing your burnt back. "Don't do that you'll hurt yourself" he said.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself then blew out, another deep breath and blew out, another deep breath then blew out. "Okay. so... what you're like atlas or something? He was... he was a titan right and he just held up the universe forever and that looks like something important like the universe" you pointed at the sphere on his back constantly shifting and changing colours and he made a whiney voice at the back of his throat. "Sorta? I'm Taishiro, nice to meet you" he greeted with a nod and you nodded back glancing again at the exit.

Could you trust him?

One look from him and it wasn't hard to tell he was overjoyed to finally talk to someone so you stood in front of him with your hands on your hips so he could see you while he was looking down. "Should I know who taishiro is, not to sound rude but everyone's heard of atlas, who is taishiro?" you asked biting a nail and the titan nodded understandably, fair enough, you would ask valid questions.

"so like, zeus wanted to do something cool and like "oh look i'm redeemable" se he basically said hey all the titans weren't so bad and just did what dad told them to so they all got freed or whatever but someone still has to hold the sky so they gave me the job" he said in one breath which was impressive to you but he wasn't finished. "which is okay, I don't mind it here but it's boring and lonely and my arms have cramp and God I miss food. And like they just made me a titan, they just chose me off the street after work and were like yo we need a new titan and I thought, hey y'know what i'm a hero, i'd be doing good for the world but i'm bored and hungry" he finished his ramble and you giggled.

You opened a packet of pistachios and a muffin and looked at him. "Can I climb you?" you asked gripping the pistachios in your teeth and pulling the muffin in a travel cup that clipped to your belt. "Sure! Not like you're very heavy to me" he joked and you laughed quietly grabbing the threads of his sandals and pulling yourself up like a climbing wall. "Oh you're so small. It tickles" he laughed. Resisting the urge to twitch and jerk you off his leg. You climbed quickly like the ropes in gym class then when you got to the shorts you pulled yourself up until you rested on his knee, flat as a table.

"Uhh, I think this should be good" you nod and balance cautiously to sit down pulling out the muffin and tapping his knee. "Hey open your mouth" you ask and he does so without question. You throw the muffin like a shot put and he grins, savouring the sweet, chocolatey taste "sorry their human sized" you sigh and shuck the pistachios for yourself, chewing on the green nuts with hundreds of questions buzzing in your head.

"So you were a hero?" you question flicking the pistachio shell into the bowl below you where taishiro's feet stood rooted to the ground. "Mhm. BMI hero: fat gum. I was like 46th, the world thinks I retired, that's what I told them but to me i'm still being a hero" he explained and you hummed agreeingly. "It's pretty hero like to give up everything to hold the weight of the world" you smile up at him and he blushes lightly. "Aw, you sound like one of my old interns. I miss it sometimes though, and I miss talking to people so much, it gets lonely here" a breeze flew past you and he shivered, but didn't lose an ounce of balance on the sphere, it was firmly rooted above him, it could have been suspended for all you knew. "Yeah, I bet, especially since being a hero is a pretty team focused job right?"

He smiled sadly and looked up at the tiny exit. He couldn't fit through doors like that anymore, he was the height of the eiffel tower and with one step he'd crack open the crust of the earth. "Yeah. you sound like you know what your talking about" you smiled tucking your hair behind your ear and shrugged "I do. I went to shiketsu to be a hero but when I left I was like... nah, that ain't my purpose. I wanted to like, find a secret the universe had that no one else knew about so i've been travelling for 4 years and I guess you were the secret right?" you thearised and he agreed happily. "It's cool knowing the universe wanted you to find me!" "heck yeah it is!"

You stayed with taishiro for a few days before having to leave and you had never felt so sad before. It was finally over, you didn't have a reason to travel anymore, you found the secret and had solidified a friendship with him but now you were leaving? Despite the snacks and drinks and stories shared about what you'd seen. You felt guilty leaving him again but he looked overjoyed. "I'll visit soon okay!" you shouted and he nodded "I'll see ya around. Say hey to little red riot for me, and suneater!" he instructed and you saluted exiting the cavern back into the dank corridor.

You kept your eyes trained on the ground until you left the mountain. A shimmering rainbow was directly in front of you and you swiped your hand through it like a cloud of smoke you tried re-directing.

The rainbow fizzled and formed into a human with long white hair and pasty skin, a long sundress with rainbow accents and black eye's. "Hi, (y/n) (y/ln) am I right? Oh I know i'm right don't worry, i'm iris Goddess of the rainbow and a messenger for the Gods of sorts. See I'm here to offer you a fast pass from wherever you are to right here in Morocco, next to our dear friend Tai whenever you please" she said with a smile, arm around your shoulder and walking away from the entrance like a car salesman.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow interested but cautious. "What will it cost me?" you ask bluntly and she laughed, slapping your back lightly. "Your hilarious kid. No it costs you nothing more than a prayer or 2 to me and my dear friend Hermes, see he's the God of travel, he's my partner in this see, and what we'll do is just zip you over here faster than you can think!" she exclaimed. You nodded and thought. A free service from 2 Gods? Were they typically that kind? No not really so...

"Oh I see. Zeus wants a fuck doesn't he" you jeered and the sky's went pale grey, like the colour your skin would go if you;d seen a ghost. Iris choked and looked up. "Um... the God of the sky does take an interest in you, yes." you rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at the sky. "Keep it in your pants buddy! I want the fast pass for free or I tell yo wife!!" you bargained, though it was hardly a haggle as the king God, terrified of his wifes wrath, told irish to just give you it for free.

"Thank you! I'll be sure to think of you when I see rainbows from now on, maybe we can have a chat! Oh oh or come see me and Tai some time, he says he gets lonely, you should visit him!" you grinned with a wave and said your address, being transported immediately like cargo from morocco to your home.

You crashed into your bed and huffed grabbing your limbs to make sure you were completely there. "DOES THIS WORK WITH OTHER COUNTRIES!" you shouted to no one in particular, your voice cracking while you spoke and then collapsed into bed, falling into a deep slumber.

A/n: Not gonna lie I really dont like thos chapter. It feels rushed and boring, I think I'll revisit it at somepoint. If you have any feedback feel free to comment!

[hexalene]

how to truly annihilate data from your flash/external drives for both windows and mac from someone who also glazes over and zones out of those jargon-laden tech bro tutorials trying to maximize your desperation for ad revenue by breaking every single step into a separate article with more jargon and more links and more jargon and more li-

So there you are, hand CLENCHED around your brand new 32GB flash drive from the discount bin left over from the back to school blitz at Walmart. 32GB of POSSIBILITY.

Unfortunately, after a few months or years of packing the damn thing with weird shit, like, idk, furry porn and weird candid shots of Gritty, idk I’m not here to judge your life, you clear out the damn thing, empty....but not.

Those 32GB of possibility now struggle to accommodate a PITIFUL 800MB of deep investigative research into the origins of the Florida Skunk Ape. What has happened? How could your memory have been eaten away like this?

So it turns out your flash drive will hold on to as much of the data you put onto it even AFTER you’ve dragged the files to the recycle bin or the trash. 

This sort of news can be a blessing or a curse. For the blessed, yes! If you’ve deleted something by accident, YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO GET IT BACK. But that’s not this tutorial. 

If You Gargle Cock For The Google PC Master Race:

>Plug in the flashdrive >Go to “Start” >Go to “This PC” >Go to “Devices and Drives” >Right click your flash drive >Click “Format” >Careful now boys, it can get scary here: >Okay, so now you’ve got some spicy options. >In “Capacity” This should show approximately whatever the drive’s original capacity was, maybe a little less. Leave this alone. >We’ll come back to “File System“ ignore for now >Skip to “Allocation Unit Size” and make sure it’s on the default setting, whatever that is. >For “Volume Label” this is just the name of your drive. Call it whatever you want. It’s the thing you can rename whenever, so it literally doesn’t matter. >Now all that’s left is “File System” and “Quick Format”

File System For Basic Bitches:

>All memes aside, you can end up with a few or a lot of options. I’m sure there’s a proper answer for this, but the options you MOST LIKELY need to worry about are “NTFS” and “ExFAT”. If you’re needing more than that, that’s way out of my paygrade. > “NTFS” is your default, 100% safe for windows option. Can’t go wrong, especially if this drive has only ever been used with Windows. >HOWEVER: >If you need to switch between Windows and Mac for whatever reason, you’ll want to pick “ExFAT” >”ExFAT” is the option for compatibility across both systems.

Format Options Making Your Files Unrecoverable Even With The Patriot Act:

>I’m being funny, but this IS actually, kinda, for real, what you’re dealing with, so READ CAREFULLY. >The default is for “Quick Format” to be UNchecked >UNchecked will unleash holy nuclear hellfire upon your drive, burning away your sins and leaving only a pure, newborn flash drive behind. >THIS CAN TAKE LONGER THAN YOU THINK IT SHOULD. If you need this drive quickly, DO NOT CHOOSE THIS OPTION. >This will annihilate all the data on the drive. The data will be UNRECOVERABLE. >Now, memes about the CIA and weird furry shit aside, you may want to be cautious about using this. If this flash drive has ever stored anything important, like family photos or important paperwork, or anything you’d be turbo fucked to lose, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE BACKUPS.

>If you’re uncertain about going full nuclear hellfire, CHECK the “Quick Format” option. >This is faster, and leaves the data somewhat recoverable on your drive. How much or how little? No idea. That Basic Bitch comment up in file systems also applies to me.

>WITH THAT NONSENSE DECIDED: >Click “Start” and then “Yes” >Now you’re cookin’ with peanut oil. Fresh, beautiful, full of data and ready to ride.

If You’re a Slut For Steve Jobs’ Forbidden Fruit:

>Plug that drive in >Go to “Applications“ >Go to “Utilities” >Go to “Disk Utility” >In the column on the left, you should see your main drive, and under “External” should be whatever you call your flashdrive. >Click it to enter the SpiceZone >Now here we have a few interesting things to note >The main section breaks down all of the info about your drive, and actually lets you see the Invisible Memory Eater haunting your device. You’ll see what data is under “Used“ versus the drive’s actual capacity. That used shit is what we’ll be clearing out. >On the top of the window, you’ll see five options: >First Aid (worth talking about, so we will) >Partition (abandon all hope ye who click thee) >Erase (THE GOOD SHIT WE CARE ABOUT) >Restore (out of my paygrade) >Unmount (fancy eject key this is fine we just don’t need it now)

File Systems For Basic Bitches: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

>Click “Erase” >”Name” is whatever your drive is called. Call it whatever you want, it can change any time, no harm no foul. >”Format” is where it gets spicy > “Mac OS Extended (Journaled)” is your default, 100% safe option. Can’t go wrong, especially if this drive has only ever been used with Apple computers. >HOWEVER: >If you need to switch between Windows and Mac for whatever reason, you’ll want to pick “ExFAT” >”ExFAT” is the option for compatibility across both systems

Format Options So Tight It Meets The US Department Of Defense (DOD) 5220-22 M Standard For Fucking Over The CIA

>It sounds funny, but the title is literally an option you can pick, I’m not kidding >First off is “First Aid” >TECHNICALLY, this is not an erasure function. This is a basic system diagnostic tool that can be used on your main hard drive to find any errors or corrupted files. It can do the same for a flash drive, which in my experience often results in freeing up some of that precious precious data without the commitment of a full wipe. If you’re nervous about nuking the drive, this is a safe place to start. >If all you want is a quick and easy wipe of the drive, ignore “Security Options” and hit “Erase” >Now for the good shit: “Security Options” >Click this bad boy. The window that drops down will be a slider with four options. “Fastest -> Most Secure” The middle two don’t have names. >”Fastest” is the default option. This is the equivalent to Window’s “Quick Format” which clears your drive, but like, leaves a potential breadcrumb trail back to your embarrassing One-Direction-During-The-Purge fanfic, so be warned. The second and third options are escalations of erasure, each taking a little longer, since it’s re-writing the data more and more each time. >”Most Secure” is your CLEANSING NUCLEAR HELLFIRE option with the hilarious note about the DOD. >THIS CAN TAKE LONGER THAN YOU THINK IT SHOULD. If you need this drive quickly, DO NOT CHOOSE THIS OPTION. >This will annihilate all the data on the drive. The data will be UNRECOVERABLE. >Now, memes aside, you may want to be cautious about using this. If this flash drive has ever stored anything important, like family photos or important paperwork, or anything you’d be turbo fucked to lose, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE BACKUPS. >HAVE YOU CHOSEN? >Hit “OK” >Hit “Erase”

AND WE’RE DONE.

This last bit down here isn’t necessary for the tutorial, but I wanted to include it as a fun side trivia thing:

All this shit is the secret behind those cop shows recovering “““““deleted””””””” computer data. Remember how my joke example went from 32GB to 1GB despite the flash drive being “empty”? The Invisible Memory Eater is actually the drive’s previously held data, despite what efforts you may have put into deleting it. It’s still there, like a ghost. 

This is my best understanding of what exactly is happening, and why some data is recoverable, and why some is not: Using a painting as a metaphor, let’s say this:

You have a blank white panel and you paint a picture of a cat.

Next, you take white paint and cover the cat up. The cat is still there, but now there’s no way to see it. 

You paint a sunflower. And then you cover it in white paint. The cat and the sunflower are still there, and now your panel is pretty thick with paint. 

You paint a house. And then you cover the panel in white paint. All three paintings are still there, and the panel is really bloated and heavy. You had two options.  

1. It’s not as capable of being worked as it was previously, so you give the panel away. The next person gets the canvas and notices how thick the paint is. With an x-ray, they can see multiple paintings under the plain white layer. Now, with a special tool, they can carefully scrape off each layer of paint to see each image. The house shows up well enough, maybe a bit of a mess. The sunflower is more degraded, and the cat is unrecognizable. But now they have an idea of what the old paintings were. And that wasn’t your intention at all, that was private. But you can’t do anything about it now.

OR

2. You decide to freshen up the panel. Maybe it won’t be as good as new, but you can work with that. You take the panel around back, and blast the damn thing with the power washer until all traces of the paint are gone. Maybe the board is a little worse for wear, not quite brand new, but the evidence of the old work is absolutely gone, forever.  There’s no image left to access. 

Now when you give the panel away, well, maybe someone could notice the wear and tear, maybe a hint of old paint in the nooks and crannies, but there will never be enough to bring the old paintings back to life. Or even know that there were more than one painting at all. 

That’s simplifying, obviously, and doesn’t perfectly line up with the technical things that are happening, but I think it’s a decent metaphor. To line it back up to the cop show bits, they’ve basically got the x-ray and the special tools to get at the old data, and the tutorial above would be the power washer annihilating everything. 

[billythecryptid]

Lemuel Fike/F!Reader

Lem comes up with a plan that involves you and a tree, everything is great until it's time to... get down from the tree. But don't worry our loveable little nerd baby is there to help.

I just love Lem so goddamn much

I've replayed the moonshine missions so many times.

I whipped this together in about an hour so judge lightly.

Also... please just accept that Pishawing is a verb and also don't start with me about how you can't use the word card when you are describing someone running their fingers through someones hair.

Just enjoy the Lem content

<p>There was something enduring about Lemuel that despite the many tight situations he’s gotten not only himself, but you in as well made you readily agree to just about anything he suggests. </p>

<p> So now here you are perched up in a goddamn pine tree, Lem himself boosting you up to the first branch which was above your head, you shakily climbing the rest until you could see across the valley. </p>

<p> “Now just tie yourself up there, make sure yer secure.” He calls up. </p>

<p> “Don’t gotta tell me twice,” You laugh nervously and suddenly Lem is doubting his plan. He’s never seen you as anything less than sure, confident, and uncomfortably calm in sticky situations. Compared to all that you sound terrified. </p>

<p> “Maybe we should-”</p>

<p> “Lemuel Fike!” You snap. “My ass is already up here, now go get into position.” </p>

<p> “Yes, yes, of course,” he flushes. “I will come back for you I promise.” </p>

<p> “I know you will,” you reply softer. “See you in a bit.”</p>

<p> “See you in a bit.” He repeats. </p>

<p>You slip your prized rifle off your back, and set it up so it rests on another branch. Peering through the sight, he was right, there was another moonshine camp not too far from your shack and a road block not too much further. Then you see Lem, tearing through the camp on his horse faster than you’ve ever seen, in fact you don’t think you even thought he had it in him. But there he goes, you watch his back like a hawk, taking out anyone who even reaches for their gun. You aim mostly at their hands and they become frantic trying to figure out where the shots come from. Lem makes it through and you feel yourself relax a little, and force yourself to wait, knowing they have to chase him as part of the plan. You gotta say it’s pretty clever, as goofy as Lem is he comes up with some interesting ideas. They follow him right through to the road block where the revenu men let him right through, opening fire on the Moonshiners, who start shooting back. It’s a bloodbath, but Lem is clear. You pick off a few of each, making sure everyone is down. </p>

<p>“Hey,” Lem calls up. “How’s it going?”</p>

<p>“Yer a goddamn genius Lem,” you laugh, relieved to hear his voice again. </p>

<p>“I would not go as far as to say something like that…” he blushes, thankful you can’t see him before he moves to the base of the tree. You look down and immediately regret it. Your body freezing in fear as the ground looms far below you. “You can come… are you… are you okay?” he squints up at you, and even from far down below can tell you’ve gone pale.</p>

<p>“I... “ you swallow your pride, one hand clutching your rifle, the other clutching the closest branch to you. “I c’ain’t move Lem… I’m… I…” </p>

<p> “It’s alright, I am coming up,” and sure enough with agility you didn’t know he had in his gangly limbs he had scaled up the tree until he was on the branch below you. “Here, hand me your rifle, I will be careful with it I promise.” </p>

<p> Had you not been terrified of dying from your body hitting the ground you would have been touched by the careful way he took your most prized possession from you. “Alright, now I want you to turn onto your belly and put your legs down towards me. Can you do that?”</p>

<p>“No,” you whimper, closing your eyes tight, your newly freed hand gripping another branch. </p>

<p>“Hey listen,” he speaks gently. “The rope is tied to you and the tree, I won’t cut it until I got a hold on you, okay, you hear me?” You nod, eyes tightly closed. He places his hand on your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze.  “I’m right here alright?” His hands find your hips and you reach one hand out to touch his hand taking a deep breath. You slowly turn and he guides your leg down. You are now between him and the tree trunk and you feel him shift. “I’m going to cut the rope now okay?”</p>

<p> You feel sick with relief as you get to the last limb, Lem jumping down then turning and holding his arms up to you. You lean forward and let yourself fall, he catches you in his arms and the two of you are chest to chest. His hands on your waist from where he caught you and yours resting on his shoulders. </p>

<p> “There, safe and sound,” he hums, looking pleased with himself for getting you down in one piece. </p>

<p> “Thank you Lem, I don’t know what got into me.” You blush and he gently lets go of your waist. Your hands slip off his shoulders and down his arms where you can feel the muscles flexing beneath his soft flannel shirt. </p>

<p> “Everyone has got something they’re afraid of, “ he shrugs, then without thinking , brushes some pine needles free, tucking your hair back behind your ear. You're still gripping one of his upper arms. Both of you look down to your feet blushing, but instead of pulling away you squeeze his bicep, nervously looking up, breath hitching as you take in the way he’s looking at you. You swallow then lick your lips. </p>

<p>“I would very much like to kiss you right now,” he says. </p>

<p>“I would very much be okay with that,” you reply before he bends down as you lean up, your lips meeting in a shy, careful kiss, which you follow with another then a more firm, sure kiss, hands fisting in each other's shirts as it deepens. He cups the back of your head gently, as you tilt your head and open your mouth, inviting his tongue in. He moans into the kiss and you hook your fingers in his belt loops pulling his hips flush with yours as he backs you into the tree. </p>

<p> Your hands roam over his back, sides and chest as the kiss continues until you’re breathless and the world has grown almost too dark around you and the bugs start biting. </p>

<p> “We should be heading back, Maggie gets worried when I keep you out too late,” you tease lightly and he laughs leaning down and kissing you once more. You card your hand through his hair before resting your palm on his cheek. </p>

<p> “Thank you for saving me,” you sigh one last time. </p>

<p> “Please,” he pushaw’s “after all the times you’ve saved my sorry hide, it’s the least I can do.” </p>

<p>The two of you head back to Maggie’s hand and hand, making it back just as the sun sets. She’s waiting on the porch and you pull your hands apart, faces heating, but she only scoffs at the two of you, getting to her feet. </p>

<p> “Was wonderin’ when you two would quit with the longing looks and just get it together already,” she grumbles, heading inside. “Whatever you get up to, keep it in your tent out back…” She’s muttering to herself as the door shuts behind her, leaving you two severely red faced. </p>

<p> “I-uh…Aunt Mags...” Lemuel coughs through his embarrassment, “She’s always been rather presumptuous.” </p>

<p>“It don’ bother me none, I’ve always been an <em>Impetuous </em>sorta person,” you turn, looking up at him demurely, before hooking your fingers back into his belt loops, tugging him forward in a suggestive motion. He responds with another heated kiss, only stopping when Maggie comes back out to extinguish the lantern hanging by the door. </p>

<p>“I said keep it in your tent!”</p>

[pinkhairedlily]

Into the Wonderful Unknown

Chapter 11 of The Spring He Came Back | 11 of 12

Momo: I told him don’t go and his response was to hold my hand. What does that even mean?

Rukia: He thought you were cold, didn’t he?

Momo: How come you know this?

Rukia: I have an idiot too, just so you know. (^,^)

“Why are you still up?” A yawning Hitsugaya appeared behind her. Hinamori hurriedly shut off her phone and turned to him.

“Why aren’t you still sleeping?” she asked. She closed the door to the patio and lightly walked towards Baba’s room. The heaters were still broken when she asked her again this morning. She might have to call utilities to do a home visit soon. Weirdly enough, Baba adamantly refused the home service when Hinamori proposed it to her over dinner.

“You weren’t sleeping yet.” His nonchalant behavior was what was confusing her. Her trauma made it hard for her to read actions and connect these with words. She was often taken advantage of in her ignorance in the past, and she knew deep down that Hitsugaya was not that kind of person. But will it do her any good if she wears her heart on her sleeve again?

He mumbled a soft good night as he pulled the blanket over his head, some of the strands still stood out. “Like a broomstick,” Hinamori noted.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you cold again?”

“Not really.” Why? Will you hold my hand?

“Hmm. That’s unfortunate.” He turned his back on her and soon fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning, Hinamori inspected her room again while Hitsugaya helped Baba prepare breakfast and bento lunches. She tried to find the heater but to no avail. Baba might have placed it in the storage in the backyard? Following her hunch, she went to the small detachment at the back of the main house. True enough, she found the heaters from their rooms.

“Okay, let’s do quick repairs before I go to work.” She rolled her sleeves and started to look at each nook and crevice of the device. They were both in pristine conditions. Baba, like all their friends and all her acquaintances, was doing wingman duties. She mulled her next decision for the next few minutes – whether she should be angry at her grandmother for forcing her to be literally closer to Hitsugaya or just go along with it.

Ride this one out. Do or die. Wear my heart on my sleeve.

Hitsugaya was setting the table when she returned. “Did you check the heaters? Can they still be repaired?” Baba had an apologetic smile on her face, knowing that Hinamori figured out her scheme.

“Ah, they’re really destroyed. I called the repair shop too but unfortunately, they’re backed up for at least a week.” She really lied through her teeth, and Baba chuckled at the progress. Grunting to herself, Hinamori just occupied herself with a bowl of miso soup and hoped Hitsugaya won’t check them himself.

“Ah well, you and Baba will have to put up with me for the remaining days.”

Hinamori heard another thing entirely. He still intended to leave, and she only has two nights left to convince him to stay.

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

Hinamori visited the café after she closed shop. She was quite fulfilled with herself today – her antidote spray worked on the peonies and gerbera, she found a supplier for dried flowers, the impulsive arrangement she made this morning sold well, and she didn’t think of Hitsugaya the whole day. Well, not until she realized he didn’t come visit her at all today. He also wasn’t in the café, talking with Yuki. So where was he?

“Here’s your brew, Momo.” Yuki handed her drink to her. He might have noticed her curious expression because he asked next, “Are you looking for Dr. Hitsugaya?”

Hinamori shook her head rather strongly that there were neck cracks. “No, not really. He might just be busy today. Not like I minded it.” I apparently minded it enough to wonder.

“Oh, you’re right. He was in a hurry earlier when he ordered an americano to-go. He’s probably tying up loose ends because he’s leaving tomorrow,” Yuki surmised. This information caught Hinamori in surprise. Tomorrow. She thought she had two more nights with him. “That means, it’s his last night in your family house?”

“The town’s rumor mill sure works hard, huh? What are they saying?” There was a slight tremble in her hands.

“Rumors were so bad in his first days. Sleeping in your house instead of a hotel? That was a scandal waiting to happen, and then when people saw that he was still leaving, the rumors died down to you two being sibling-like. Of course, he would sleep in your family house. That was his second home, and you were his second family.” Yuki was looking at her intently, possibly gauging her response. She didn’t know herself – she didn’t know whether she should be offended or saddened. Hitsugaya might have confessed to her when they were teenagers, but ten years have passed. Could it be that this was all she was gonna be to him?

The doors to the café opened, interrupting Yuki and Hinamori’s conversation. Rukia and Renji were holding hands but remained unflustered when they saw their friend.

“Nice timing. I was just about to message you,” Rukia said. “We’re holding a farewell dinner for Urahara’s team.”

“It’s only a small crowd. Us and the three professors. Well, four now because Hitsugaya’s one already,” Renji further supplied. Both of them saw apprehension flickered across Hinamori’s face which soon got covered by a smile. They knew her for far too long that they recognized this was her immediate façade.

It was the academy, after all. There was a long history and probably some bad blood. She wasn’t sure if she was entirely welcome. Then again, this was an opportunity to spend more time with Hitsugaya and talk about his decision. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know about it. He clearly told her he’ll only be here for a week. And it wasn’t as if she bottled up her feelings; she told him “don’t go”, didn’t she? She just wanted to know if this was for good, if he won’t come back again, if there was another life waiting for him on the other side, if she was a thing of his past, or if he just came here for closure. “I’ll freshen up first. Where do I meet you?” Ride this one out. Do or die. Wear my heart on my sleeve.

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

Hinamori couldn’t remember the last time she went to a party. Rangiku forced her to join a mixer last year, but no one really interested her. She was far too engrossed in mapping out the business in her head while everyone in their table exchanged information. Then Hitsugaya came, and she was reduced to a blushing mess.

She let her shoulder-length hair down, finally making her strands experience the curling iron. Rangiku’s impromptu and overly enthusiastic make-up sessions proved to be useful despite her and Rukia rarely using cosmetics. She also took out from her closet the olive green blazer and short coordinates which she bought when her revenues finally went beyond breakeven. A comfortable pair of loafers completed the look. Just what was she thinking this would convince him to stay?

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

“Working girl, Hinamori,” Rukia quipped. This earned her a glaring look from Hinamori. “Are you changing tactics? Is this ~seduction~?” she jokingly whispered. This time, it was Renji who elbowed her.

“I’m pretty sure Hitsugaya will get a neck strain from staring too much at you.” Renji’s assurance served to fuel the fire stronger. Her two friends were so amused.

“Don’t get the wrong idea! I’m not trying to seduce him!” Hinamori fumed. There were still a few minutes to spare; she could go home and change into her more normal clothes.

“Hinamori! You look good!” Rangiku’s voice rang through the alley. She wore a strawberry midi dress in blocked heels, and her long curls were made up in a loose bun. It wasn’t hard to see the source of her flushed happiness as she was walking with a silver-haired guy who they presumed to be Ichimaru Gin.

Thank God Rangiku dressed up, Hinamori thought. However, she was still wary with how she looked. She immediately turned on her heels to make her way back to the house despite the rising protests from the 3Rs, but she hit someone soon enough. She got a sudden cramp in her foot and almost fell on her back but strong arms steadied her shoulders.

“Momo, are you okay?” It was Hitsugaya. Just her luck.

“Hello, Hinamori.” The professors beside him greeted in unison. Unohana, Byakuya, and Urahara waved hello, dispelling any negative scenarios Hinamori made up in her mind. Suddenly conscious of Hitsugaya’s arms on her shoulders, she moved away from him and bowed to the other professors in greeting.

“Barbecue, barbecue, barbecue,” Urahara led the small group into the restaurant. Hinamori failed to see Hitsugaya’s reaction as she quickly moved towards the safety of her friends’ exchanges and out of his sphere. So much for wearing her heart on her sleeve.

It was so typical of the academy regulars to reserve the whole restaurant for a small dinner. A long table was laid out in the center of the room, and lots of meat were ordered. Bottles of wine and beer were also prepared.

Maybe drinks will give me courage. Dejected, she sat beside Rukia and Renji and across the lovey-dovey Rangiku and Gin. While the former couple was subtle in their affections (because Byakuya was in the room), the latter was nonstop flirting. Never in her life has Hinamori felt so single. At the other end of the table was Hitsugaya and his mentors, debating over something else. Unohana, now the head of the academic board, claimed the seat beside her.

The dinner started out smoothly, and Hinamori enjoyed grilling meat for everyone, particularly for Unohana who apparently wanted a certain cooked appearance. She also got to relax for a bit since Ichimaru Gin took the hot seat.

“It’s your time to eat, Hinamori,” Unohana gently stopped her arm from cooking another batch of pork belly and urged her to sit down.

Taking a bite of a grilled asparagus, Hinamori’s eyes strayed to Hitsugaya’s seat at the other end of the table. He was downing a bottle of beer which he almost choked on when Urahara said something funny. She quickly peeled her gaze away when he noticed her staring. Her seatmate chuckled at the silent exchange.

“It’s a wonderful thing. I’m sure you knew the things Hitsugaya did for you,” she said. The professor placed a few strips of bulgogi beef on the grill. “He really hunted down all the affiliates of Aizen in five years, presented all evidence in the international teaching board and revoked Aizen’s and his accomplices’ teaching licenses. They also got blacklisted in the research field. The items you mailed to the academy – they were also part of that repository.”

The things Hitsugaya did for you.

He really looks out for you.

Even from afar, he was protecting her. “It took me quite long though.” There was a tinge of regret in her voice which Unohana picked up.

“At least you arrived where you wanted to be.” The professor took a sip of her tea. “Although, isn’t it time for you to go back and study in the academy?”

Hinamori’s eyes lit up at the possibility. Yes, she was contented with self-studying, but a focused curriculum would greatly improve her skills. “Wouldn’t there be a conflict of interest based on my past record?”

“I believe that record was already expunged. You didn’t have any knowledge of his operations, after all.” Unohana took from the grill the burnt strips of bulgogi beef. She smiled at Hinamori and ate them in one mouthful. “The academy isn’t the academy you knew before. There are no more Soul members and no networking involved. Just regular admissions and equal access to resources.”

Hinamori sighed. She briefly forgot about her business. “I’m not sure if I can. I have a flower shop.”

“And we have night classes for working students, parents, breadwinners, you name it. The academy tries its best to accommodate everyone and be flexible if need be. We also heard what you were doing in the flower farms. It’s a talent difficult to miss, Hinamori.”

“Am I not too old to pursue a bachelor’s degree?”

“Is there an age limit in the pursuit of knowledge?”

“Five already,” Gin said aloud. Rangiku laughed when Unohana and Hinamori finally steered their attention to them.

“I’m telling you it’s six.” Renji almost slammed his beer mug on the table. He might love drinking, but his tolerance was so high. Rukia, though, was another matter.

“What are they counting?” Hinamori asked Rangiku who was rather tipsy at this point.

“The number of times he looked at you.” Rangiku pushed six shot glasses to Hinamori. “Drink them all, baby.”

I didn’t even notice. Again, a blushing mess when it came to him.

“You just wasted your night cooking for us. You need a break.” Gin supported his girlfriend. “Drink your share, Hinamori.”

Slightly affected by the new opportunities coming her way and the enthusiasm of her friends, she downed three shot glasses in full. She cupped her fourth when her eyes strayed to where he was seated. She was supposed to make use of this time to talk to him, but he seemed intent to put some distance between them. In that moment, his eyes flitted to where she was. If it was possible to swallow the shot glass, she would have.

“This is so entertaining,” Unohana quipped.

“I don’t have any patience for this stealing-glances-game,” the intoxicated Rukia said. “You, Momo, are to confess tonight!”

“Ooooh I heard confession!” Urahara yelled from across the table. He stood enthusiastically and went over to Hitsugaya’s side. “I’ve got a story to tell!”

“Shut up, Kisuke.” Byakuya tried to pull him away from his mentee.

“What story?” Hitsugaya asked. He also finished his bottle in one long drink. Finally remembering what story it was, he reddened in embarrassment. “Urahara no!”

“That time when someone confessed to you in the middle of an open forum!” Urahara let them in on the secret. “The girl started with, Dr. Hitsugaya, your presentation was very nice and it answered big knowledge gaps in the field of Physics. Now I was wondering if you would fill in the gap in my life. It was so hilarious. The auditorium broke out in cheers.”

Laughter erupted around the table and more so when Hitsugaya just continued pouring himself a drink.

“We had to screen attendees at that point onwards because she might ask the same question again.” Byakuya also found the memory funny. “You maintained contact with her, right?”

“What is it to you?” Hitsugaya pouted in his defense. The laughter shifted into yells and whistles. This light atmosphere turned quite heavy for Hinamori.

So there really was someone else.

His phone rang amid the cheers, and he excused himself from the table. Hinamori’s heart sank further. The decision was made; she should just go home. “I need some air.”

When Hinamori was out of earshot, the people around the table sighed collectively.

“I can’t believe I’ll say this, but we have two idiots in company,” Unohana said, breaking the silence.

“After Rukia and Renji, of course,” Byakuya added, teasing the two lovebirds at the other end.

“Let’s hope those idiots realize it soonest huh?” Urahara went back to his seat and opened a new bottle of wine.

“It’s literally your fault.” Byakuya and Unohana were both clearly exasperated.

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

“I should say goodbye,” Hinamori muttered to herself. She saw Hitsugaya walked to the alley beside the restaurant. She tried to follow him, but a group of local drunks blocked her way. She sidestepped, but they also matched her move. She was feeling a little light on her feet. It was a bad call to finish the shot glasses Rangiku gave her.

“Hey cutie, where are you going?”

“Are you striding towards my pants? I mean, my heart?”

“Hey fuck off, I saw her first. Finders keepers.” Someone’s hand grabbed her wrist, pain shooting throughout her body.

Fingers wrapped around that someone’s arm, the grip was so tight one could see veins popping on his hand. “Don’t fucking touch her.” Silver hair in her periphery. An air of intimidation. Eyes like icy daggers. The strong arms holding her steady. “Stop hitting on my girlfriend.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let her out of your sight? Fuck off dude.”

Hinamori was trembling more because of anger and less because of fear. Alcohol was truly a source of courage. “Why don’t you fuck off yourself?” She kicked the one in front in the balls, and elbowed the one grabbing her wrist. It happened so fast that Hitsugaya forgot he was holding someone hostage.

The local drunks scurried away, leaving the two unharmed. Hitsugaya pulled Hinamori gently into the abandoned alley, usually reserved for dumpster area, the dark acting as refuge for their recent encounter. She was still trembling, her hands cold and sweaty. Hitsugaya hesitated to come close within her personal space. A few minutes passed and she reached out for his hand, her pinky barely holding on to his other pinky.

“I’m sorry I lied,” Hitsugaya asked. “I drank so much I’m not sure I could fight them all off. So I thought the boyfriend card would be enough.” He hovered his fingers above hers in a quiet question of consent. She closed the space within their hands, their fingers finally intertwining, the cold dissipating in the warmth of his skin. “You were so badass there.”

“Thank you,” Hinamori chuckled. “But I guess you shouldn’t be holding hands with me when you have a girlfriend abroad.” But her fingers stayed where they were.

“What girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend, Momo.” HItsugaya protested. He faced her this time, the closeness of him backing Hinamori against the wall. “Urahara was spouting nonsense earlier. I rejected her. I don’t have any form of contact with her.”

“Why are you so adamant in proving it?”

“Then why did you rile me up with it?”

Hinamori couldn’t answer. Maybe she should have drunk two more shots.

“Are you okay?” Hitsugaya was clearly worried. He was red on the face, but Hinamori didn’t know if it was because of the drinks or because it was cold outside.

“Why should it be a pretense?” she asked, letting go of his hand. She turned her gaze away from his striking eyes.

“What? Momo, look at me.” He cupped her face, securing any form of escape. “Are you drunk? Because I’m kinda tipsy too. Byakuya made me finish one bottle of wine and some bottles of beer. I think my stomach is riding a pirate ship. So what pretense?”

“I like you.” Her stomach was a pirate ship suspended at the highest point, a roller coaster stuck upside down, and a basket at the peak of a ferris wheel.

“I know what you mean. You said it before already.” Her words were not getting through to him.

“I like you, Shirou. I meant it back then when I said I liked you too.”

“Of course, you like me as a friend.”

“How can I prove it to you, you broomstick idiot?” She felt like crying. What was running through his mind? How can she get her feelings across in actions if words were not enough?

Ah, there was one thing she could do, and she had the advantage. Ride this one out. Do or die. Wear my heart on my sleeve.

Hinamori’s hands strayed to his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. Her stomach lurched into a journey, the wide deep swing that came after the high, and then an expanse of space. This was probably why they associated butterflies with it. It seemed as if she was fluttering herself, her heels flying on to space, and the only thing grounding her was his hands on her face and his soft lips on hers.

Thank you, courage. She pulled back, content with her declaration, no matter the result.

“You look so beautiful tonight, Momo.” Hitsugaya spoke as if someone took his breath away momentarily, but his hands were still cupping her face. “Didn’t know you were so fashion-forward.”

“I’m glad you think so. It’s my alternate persona.” She joked back. She gathered what was remaining of her courage and truly looked at him.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You can be angry at me tomorrow.” He pulled her face closer and kissed her again, full on the mouth, a little longer, and a little deeper. Over and over again, they would pull each other in with small rests for breathing, like how the world was rushing to bloom again in spring.

NEXT CHAPTER | 12 OF 12 | ENDLESS SEASONS WITH YOU

[ophiebot]

MAMA MIA ! AU

NOTE: So I did a little one shot for @llamagoddessofficial​ for this little Mama Mia AU. I figure the Skull, Sans, and Red would show up a few days before MC’s birthday (so soon in relation to this snippet) and I just wanted to explore a little bit of what Hit and MC’s dynamic would be! pardon if there’s any spelling errors i wrote this pretty quickly and only looked over it like once LOL.

***

You were sitting out on the porch of your modest cottage that was tucked into the woods about a mile from the beach. It was almost summer, but a good number of the trees were still pink or light green with their first buds and flowers. You took a deep breath.

The island smelled the same every year, fresh and floral with the occasional salty breeze blowing in from the ocean that was so close by. It was like a dream, and you’d never get sick of it.

A skeleton monster was sitting on a porch chair across the deck table from you, looking out to your front yard as well where your 12 year old was running around trying to catch frogs. It had stormed pretty terribly the night before so the ground was wet and muddy. Worms were wiggling around in the grass and crawling onto the driveway just to perish in the now emerging afternoon sun. Your daughter, Ellie, was also trying in vain to place them back in the mud so they wouldn’t dry up. These two very important tasks had her splashing about in her rain boots and getting all kinds of muddy. She was definitely in for a scrub down tonight when she finally tired herself out all the way. But you decided you’d worry about it later. She was having too much fun now. Your skeletal companion took a drink from his glass of lemonade. The pitcher you had made after lunch was sitting ice cold on the table between the two of you. Hit always dressed smartly. Even now in the creeping heat, but you figured maybe it didn’t bother him on a account of his lack of skin. He was wearing a button up and slacks , casual compared to his usual attire, an two of the buttons were undone to loosen his collar. You took a sip from your own glass. Your daughter disappeared into the woods in front of your house, probably retreating to the impressive fort she had built back there a couple summers ago. Hit finally spoke up. “You gonna be busy this week?” You shrugged, glancing over at him “I’ve got a couple day camps to run down at the library but other than that not really” “Yeah? What about Friday” he leaned back a little bit in his seat and raised a brow bone at you. “....I told you I don’t want a big party or anything.” “Oh come off it it’s not everyday you turn 33” “Im serious, hit” “So am I” You sighed and rolled your eyes, looking away from him briefly. “Like, sure. A cake would be nice. I’m just not in the mood to....I dunno” you sighed, rubbing at your temple and leaning your elbow on the arm of the deck chair. “....no yeah. I get it. It’s your mid 30s. Came outta nowhere and now you feel like you’re gettin old” “Wow thanks that makes me feel so much better” you snorted. “You know I don’t mean it like that. But hey. Why don’t we just get a cake. Me you n Ellie can celebrate. It’ll be nice” “....well” you tapped your fingers along your glass thoughtfully “I...I guess that would be nice. Couldn’t hurt” “Well don’t sound so enthusiastic about it now” he chuckled. “No I would totally love to hit ! Really. I just..... You know I don’t wanna put you out” “Hey. Look at me” He leaned over the table a bit. You flicked your eyes up to meet his, your stomach twisting a bit anxiously. His eyes always did that to you. But you were good at hiding it. “I always tell ya, I like doing this kind of stuff. It’s not even a big deal. And I’m always here for ya. So don’t go talking like that ok?” His voice was soft. You Were quiet for a moment. Before relenting and tearing your eyes away, looking down “yeah. I know. And I really appreciate it, you know that” He sat back again, relaxing into his chair. “I know ya do.” Of course you appreciated Hit. He had been your main support and source of income when you first came here. No family to claim as your own any longer and no revenue of any kind. He was right there to pick you up and put you on your feet. He even bought you this house. It was all incredibly.....kind. Yeah. That was the word wasn’t it? Kind. He was kind and thoughtful. But there was a tension in your relationship with him. He had made it abundantly clear what the nature of his feelings towards you were, even if he didn’t come right out and say it. You didn’t need it laid out in front of you to get it. It’s just....you weren’t ready for that kind of thing!! The things he wanted from you....you weren’t sure you could give. And you’d already given a fair bit. A few lapses in judgement and he ended up warming your bed on more than one occasion. It hadn’t happened in a while. You had made a habit of it a few years ago, but there was a point where you simply had to set a few unspoken boundaries. It wasn’t good for you. But you had to admit when the nights got especially cold or lonely you considered calling him, only to remind yourself it was a cruel cycle of regret. All for reasons you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You did care about him....of course you did. But part of you constantly told yourself to keep him at arms length. So you did. You had learned to trust most of your instincts. That being one of them. Your daughter emerged from the woods again, running and brandishing a huge frog she was carrying in both hands....Wait....no that was a froggit. And it looked particularly distressed. Ellie was giggling like a madman. Hit burst into a fit of laughter as well when he saw her. You quickly stood and hurried to catch her before she could do any terrible psychological damage to the poor small monster. She evaded you for only a few more seconds before you snatched her up . “Get over here you...troublemaker!!” The girl was still giggling in your arms but lost her grip on the froggit. The monster leaped from her hands and hopped off to the woods again. Your daughter wiggled out of your grip and dashed off to the porch to show hit the handful of worms she had also been holding in her dirty little hands. He lit up a bit and scooted forward in his chair to listen to her ramble about her expeditions of the day. You watched from the yard, mud smeared and....damn near content. It was your chest twisting now as you watched him dote on your daughter. It was moments like this that brought your walls down. And you thought maybe you should just dive in and not think too hard about it. That was your problem nowadays. You just thought too much. You longed for the you that existed on this island 12 years ago. With your feet in the sand and.... Your hand clenched lightly in your skirt. Thoughts of that summer always made you feel a little foggy. And melancholic. You shook your head. Collected yourself, and headed back up to the porch. It was bath time.

[summonerscenarios]

Can I ask for Andvari with handholding number 16, please.

Honestly I love Andvari but I always worry I can’t write him properly sdfghjkkhgfds BUT THIS WAS TOO CUTE AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF. So here’s an overindulgent fluffy fic lmao

-----

16. Bringing it to your lips

“You’re an idiot”

You bite back a groan at the hold Andvari has on your arm - it isn’t rough, but there’s enough bruises scattered across the skin that anywhere he touches stings. Even so, you’re taking it well enough that you still find it in yourself to smile, an ice pack pressed up against your cheek as you retort.

“Yeah, but I’m a victorious idiot~!”

“Doesn’t make a difference when it’s outside of the guild’s battle zone!” Andvari shakes his head as he dabs along your arm with a cloth, brushing off debris as he mutters to himself. 

“Sheesh, you weren’t even getting paid for the fight”

A valid point. Whenever you weren’t at the guild to pester Andvari, you were here to build up some revenue for your own guild, not wanting to pile all of the Summoner’s monetary issues onto Shiro when you could make a pretty coin and train at the same time. You had to admit the roar of the crowds got your blood pumping, and riding the high of a fight once the battle is over often left you with more energy than you know what to do with. It just so happened that this excess energy went right back into another fight...outside the guild...beyond the safety of the app...severely outnumbered.

Well, you hadn’t been alone at least.

“In my defense, Pollux said that it was a good idea” you retorted, only getting an unamused huff from the dwarf in response.

“And since when did you listen to anything Pollux says?”

“Umm...since he threw the first punch?”

Andvari shoots you a pointed look and presses the disinfected cloth firmly into your arm without warning, and you bristle with a hiss.

“OWOWOWOW-Okay, okay! Maybe it was a bad idea - but they tried to jump us first! Besides, we won, didn’t we?”

“‘We Won’” he makes sarcastic air quotes with one hand, not looking up from your arm.

“Pollux did fine - you nearly got blood on my counter”

For a moment you wonder if it’s worth the risk to fish an ice cube out of your pack and flick it at him for the jab, but a surprise attack on the guy actively patching you up probably isn’t the best idea. Instead you grumble something noncommittal and rest your head on your uninjured hand, keeping an eye on him as he works. For how thick and rough his hands are, he moves deftly, fingers working their way across your arm until he’s satisfied that you aren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out on guild property. 

Well, bleeding out is probably an exaggeration - sure you’re cut up but you’ll live, could probably have gotten back home and been fine too. But Andvari had insisted on you staying put until you were good to go - at heart you knew he was worried; careful wasn’t in your dictionary, and at this rate you’ll probably end up giving him enough white hairs from stress to last a lifetime, but it makes you feel a bit better to know that he does care.

He moves away from your arm to focus on your hand, lifting it up to gauge how bad it’s injured. Your knuckles are split, but they already look better than they had when you’d stumbled back into the Colosseum after the fight, having been washed up and cleaned as best they could under the nearest faucet before Andvari had caught you and promptly tugged you over to the nearest first aid kit. For a building made for fights, you’d think they’d have more medical supplies on hand. 

You’re at least grateful that his grip is gentle, trying to avoid actively hurting you, and you allow your eyes to close while he works in an attempt to forget the soreness that’s already making your muscles ache. 

Man, what you wouldn’t give for a hot bath right about now….

Andvari suddenly pauses and your eyes immediately flicker open to see what’s wrong. His eyes are trained on your hand, staring directly at the ring decorating your middle finger - his ring, to be exact. It’s the same one he’d given you last year, after the whole mountain fiasco - you’d initially slipped it onto a chain and kept it as a necklace to keep it with you, and it had lasted a while before that same chain had snapped after a small accident (Thanks Kengo...). After that you’d decided it was easier to just wear it instead, keeping it on your hand so you didn’t end up losing it in the mess of your dorm room.

He seems surprised to see you wearing it, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at your hand with an expression you can’t quite make out.

“Still kept this around, huh?”

You have to grin at that. “Yeah, bet that one left a mark - pretty sure they’ll be walking around with that imprinted on ‘em for a few days”

At your lighthearted tone he hums out a noise of acknowledgement but keeps looking at your hand. Running his thumb over the ring on your finger, you can see Andvari’s expression soften. Then, in a quick motion, he brings up your hand and presses a kiss just above your ring finger, and your heart just about screeches to a stop in your chest.

That....okay, that is not what you expected him to do.

Suddenly that soreness you were feeling is all but forgotten and you straighten up, looking down at Andvari. It’s not bad in the slightest - if anything the motion’s really sweet, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a sucker for cute, cheesy gestures. But you didn’t know what to do.

Okay, think quickly - keep it sweet? Yeah, let’s go with that.

The moment Andvari makes a move to pull away from your hand you twist it around and cup his cheek in your palm. You weren’t really thinking it through, with it being a spur of the moment decision, but it gets the reaction you were hoping for. He freezes for a second, startled, but then holds onto your wrist and leans into the curve of your hand with a sigh that sounds almost relieved.

It’s quiet for a little while, nothing else needing to be said, but the words eventually bubble up before you can stop them.

“Sorry for worrying you”

“I wasn’t worried,” he grumbles in protest. “Just try not to make a habit of getting hurt”

At that you can’t help but chuckle - you both know that’s easier said than done.

“Why? Bad for business?”

“Yeah…” Andvari trails off, pausing momentarily to pat the hand against his cheek before adding under his breath like an afterthought “and my heart”

Oh, you definitely caught that.

“I’m sorry, what was that~?” You grin, leaning forward with a knowing smirk as he pulls away and rears back from you when you keep closing the distance.

“Nothing”

“Aww, c’mon, Andvari~! What was that about your heart~?” At this point you’re close enough that you’re almost touching, and you can see the tips of his ears turning pink before he snaps.

“O-oi! That’s it, I’m charging you double for that!” Andvari swats at you with the cloth still in his hand as you buckle over laughing, almost toppling back off of the counter in the process but managing to catch yourself at the last second. 

You’re not sure if he means it about the double, but you know he won’t stay mad at you for long - not when you catch him smiling as he shuffles forward to help you back onto the counter.

[jaskierswolf]

If you’re inspired - Could I request demisexual/greysexual Netflix!Jaskier with either Priscilla (if you’re doing the games), Anna Henrietta (if you’re doing the books) or Essi Daven, please?

Ummm... sooo... I had inspiration! I don’t think it’s what you were after but it’s what I’ve got. This one tackles one of the issues the ace community faces. I know there are certain people that don’t believe ace/aro people belong in LGBT+ community because they don’t face discrimination.

I, quite honestly, think that’s bullshit and I think this one kinda explores one of the reaons I think that. I’m putting warnings and story undercut. Please, I beg of you, read the warnings before you read the story. This is an uncomfortable ride.

TW: Issues of consent, implied past rape and attempted rape (that is stopped before anything happen) _______

Jaskier strolled through the streets of Oxenfurt. It had been years since he’d been back but his professors had asked him to lecture over the winter. Geralt was hauled up with the other witchers at Kaer Morhen so really he had no excuse. Still Oxenfurt brought back some troubling memories to this day. He’d been a bard in training and everyone knows that bards were easy to bed.

He shuddered as his hands trailed along the walls. Fucking around had practically been an extra class for him. To become a travelling bard one needed to flirt in order to get coin. A well placed wink and touch to an arm did wonders for his revenue but it never failed to give people the wrong idea. He could appreciate a beautiful person as much as the next person but really it didn’t mean he wanted to fuck them.

He just wanted their attention and their coin.

Some people just couldn’t take no for an answer. Things had gotten easier since Geralt. Having a witcher looming over your shoulder to glare at potential miscreants really helped to persuade them that he really did mean no. Jaskier’s growing attraction to Geralt had been a surprise to them both. It had started without Jaskier even realising it, until one day Geralt had thrown him out of the way of a charging fiend and after fight Geralt had held Jaskier’s face in his hands to make sure he wasn’t injured and Jaskier had been hit with the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

So he did.

And Geralt hadn’t immediately stabbed him.

The attraction came and went, changing like the weather. Neither of them could predict when Jaskier would be filled with burning desire for his partner or whether the thought of sex would make his skin crawl. Geralt was patient and never pushed for anything, letting Jaskier initiate the more sexual contact.

He desperately wished that he’d had Geralt during his time at Oxenfurt. He’d needed that shield in his youth. He’d needed his best friend before he’d even known he’d existed.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, worrying on his bottom lip. He could do this. He was Jaskier. He walked alongside the Great White Wolf, watching with wonder as killed vicious monsters. He could lecture a class of pimply teenagers who barely knew how to hold a lute. He had his own office and everything!

He was halfway to his lecture room when he heard cruel laughter and a girl’s cry. His eyes widened and he almost dropped the long tube carrying his notes for his lecture in his hurry to find the source of the crying.

He tripped as he rounded the corner, gripping the wall to steady himself. Two boys had a young blonde pressed up against the wall, there were tears rolling down her cheeks and Jaskier saw red. He pulled the boys back by the scruffs of their necks and tossed them both to the floor. Years by Geralt’s side had meant he’d developed quite a lot of muscle, and not just in his legs.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” He snarled, doing his best impression of Geralt’s scary face.

“She said she’d never done it, sir!” One of the boys hurried to say and Jaskier’s nails dug into the palms of his hands as he placed them on his hips. “Said she’s never wanted to!”

“Yeah!” The other boy grinned smugly. “We were just showing her what she’s missing! Told her she just needed the right man.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and counted to ten very slowly in his head. “My office. Now!” He growled at the boys.

“Yes, Sir.” The both mumbled and scurried away. He would be having some serious talks about consent with boys but for now he needed to check on the girl.

He spun round to look at her. She was a pretty young thing, soft long blonde hair that fell in front of one of her eyes. She was clutching her lute case to her chest and he could see tear stains on her cheeks. “Are you alright?” He asked softly and she nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Essi. Essi Daven” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

“I’m Jaskier. Mr Pankratz now I guess.” He chuckled and gave her a small salute. He would normally hold out his hand to shake but he didn’t want to spook her. “You know…” He said with a tilt of his head. “I never wanted it either.”

Her eyes widened and she stared up at him. “What?”

“I still don’t a lot of the time. Some people never do.” He hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m broken.” She sobbed and he knelt down in front of her so he could see both her eyes under her long fringe.

“No.” He insisted, hoping to every god he knew of that she believed him. “No, you’re not. You’re just made a little differently.”

“Like you?” She asked, hoping beginning to shine in her cornflower blue eyes, eyes that were so very much like his. She could almost be his little sister if he had blond hair rather than brown.

He smiled and nodded, holding out his hands palms up as an invitation. She took one hand tentatively and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you have to have sex or romance for life to mean something. Friendship, Essi, friendship is the most beautiful love of all. Lovers come and go but a good friend will stay with you for life.”

“Thank you, Mr Pankratz.” She gave him a sad smile, one that made him want to wrap her up in her arms and protect her from the world, but he didn’t. Instead he squeezed her hand once before letting go.

“My office is open all winter, any time. Even if I’m lecturing, you can go there. It’ll be a safe space for you. I promise, and if those boys don’t learn their lesson then my very good friend Geralt may have to pay them a visit in spring.” He winked and she laughed.

“The witcher?”

“The one and only.” He agreed.

She flashed him a mischievous smile. “I think I would like to see that.” She laughed and her fingers tapped on her lute case.

“Me too, Essi. Me too. Now off you go. Any more problems, come find me, alright?”

She nodded and then skipped off down the corridor. He turned back around with a sigh. Now he just had to deal with the bastards in his office. Fuck, when had he become so grown up?