#queue sir are a fish

[alwaysaslutforarthurmorgan]

The Braithwaite Manor

PC: Me

[mollyrolls]

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 1: the bet

prev. / mlist. / next

next in queue: roxanne - the police

Issei pushes open the door of the corner store, the air conditioning chilling the sweat on his skin. One clear chime rings out, echoing in the silence.

He doesn't need cherries. He knows they don’t, he got two jars yesterday and neither have been opened. Yet, he’s back at the market. Coming to buy cherries.

It’s also to see her again. Issei has no idea if she’d be working today, considering he doesn’t even know her name. Let alone a schedule. But if she wasn’t there, he could just ask a coworker for her name.

But maybe name is too creepy? He definitely couldn’t ask when she’s working next, that’s serial killer levels of stalker. And he was willing to play it cool. If something came up, he’d work it out.

“Welcome in.”

Her cadence is already familiar to him, and he feels his shoulders simultaneously loosen and tense. Any thoughts he had about restraining himself and playing it cool fly instantly from his head.

He turns on his heel, redirecting his path to walk in front of the counter. She’s sucking him in like a magnet.

He mutters a hey to her as he passes, but her earphones are in their rightful spot. Elastic rubber band is probably playing too loudly for him to be heard. It’s frustrating losing to a flimsy piece of wire.

Issei makes quick work of his shopping, choosing to forgo the mints completely. She didn’t seem to care about them in the first place. So it’s a quick grab of a pot of maraschino cherries and he’s right back up front.

She pays him even less attention than she did yesterday. He tries not to let it get to him, still confident in his plan to sway her.

She’s so distracted that he’s allowed a moment to peer over the counter to what she’s working on.

Her phone lights up once, a few texts slowly filling in. His main focus is on the sketch pad she’s hunched over, and the way that her mouth folds as she bites down on the inside of her lip.

He can’t quite make out what she’s working on, but he does note several sloppy hatch marks that shade some kind of background.

Issei tries to shift his head and get a clearer view, but his movement in her periphery alerts her to his presence.

For someone who was so stoic yesterday, her face does a poor job of hiding her reactions when she’s surprised. Issei watches in amusement as she notices him, recognizes him, panics when she thinks he saw her work, and rapidly schools her face into nonchalance.

She’s not as subtle with the covering of the notebook. He feels the tiniest bit bad for trying to pry on something she’s clearly protective of. He’ll be sure to course correct.

“Hey.” He starts, donning a warm and lazy smile.

“Hi. Did you find everything okay?” She responds, hesitant to act particularly casual towards him. She’s clearly on her guard, a bit like a scared animal.

“Just as easily as yesterday.”

Silence falls between them, Issei standing there and staring while she waits for him to hand over his groceries. He thinks briefly that he could hold her hostage like this, allowing him the chance to appreciate her in the way that he longs to.

Every second spent with her, simply in her presence, sends Issei further into this lovestruck spiral. One that he’s walking into with open arms.

She clears her throat, shifting awkwardly on her stool. “Excuse me, sir. Are you going to purchase those or just stare at me?”

“Mattsun.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Mattsun.” He replies, finally handing her the cherries. “Or Issei, if you’d like. But Mattsun is just fine.”

No response. She notes the cherries, looking up at him unamused, and scans it quickly.

“I told you, shirley temples are popular.” He starts, falling back into the song and dance they had yesterday. Waiting for a topic that excites her, which he’ll cling to.

“Mmmhmm. Cash or card?”

“Card. You know me.” He fishes it out once again, taking even longer this time. He even picks out his personal card, just to put it back and get the work one.

He dangles it, just out of her reach. She doesn’t bite, and they sit in another wave of silence, staring at each other.

Issei is loving it. She looks like she’s watching paint dry.

Finally she sighs, realizing Issei is getting what he wants by prolonging the interaction.

“I win.” He smiles at her while she reaches toward him. He momentarily thinks about pulling it farther, but remembers his promise.

He’s playing the long game.

So she takes it, expression still indifferent. The same taps on the register, the grind of the receipt.

“Hey, you didn’t ask me about that!”

She deadpans further. “Do you want a receipt.”

He knows his grin is stupid. “Yes, please.”

It’s dropped into the plastic bag, both thrust toward him with more annoyance than yesterday.

“Thank you for shopping at Kumonoue. Have a good night.”

“Oh!” He remembers, ignoring her goodbye. “I heard a good song this morning.”

She continues to look unimpressed. “I have work to do, sir. Other people need help.”

He brandishes his arm around, theatrically scanning the store for another living thing. When he finds none, he turns back to look at her with humor all over his face.

She just sighs under her breath, settling back on the stool and resigning herself.

He’s never been picky. Attention is attention, and hers is hard earned.

“It’s Mattsun. Anyways. It was Connection, by Elastica. You ever heard of them?”

His joke is not well received. Maybe he had pushed his luck too much earlier, and she really was getting sick of him. Or even worse, uncomfortable. He knew it was a bit of a toss up, but her reaction to his foolishness yesterday led him to think he had better odds.

Her face screws up slightly, looking a little betrayed. Before Issei could blink, she’s standing from the stool and disappearing behind a backroom wall.

“Oh, hey! C’mon, I’m sorry.” He calls out, hoping she can still hear him. “That was just a stupid joke, I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

Still, no response. Issei starts to kick himself, truly ruining his chances before he ever had a real shot. All of his flirtatious experience seems to fall away as soon as he’s near her, leaving her immune to his charm.

She emerges again, holding a box of some beverages on her hip. Making no motion to talk, or even acknowledge Issei anymore, she leaves him standing in the front of the store. Feeling like a dejected, rejected schoolboy.

Now, Issei has a choice. He could leave, tail tucked between his legs and with a bad taste in his mouth. Or, he can try again. Could make it worse, but he could also make it better.

The choice isn’t hard to make.

He waits a few moments before following her, focusing all his energy on seeming apologetic and polite.

He settles a few feet away from her, leaving at least one aisle of space between them. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

She startles at his voice, seemingly surprised that he’s still around.

“Um. I don’t know you.” She doesn’t sound scared, or uneasy. But she’s also not pleased.

“Would you want to change that?”

“Look.” She looks over her shoulder, still crouched down by the drinks. He notices how much energy she commands without trying, her nonchalance feeling intimidating and overwhelming despite being half his height.

“I’m not interested in anything. No boyfriend, no one-night stands, no hookup buddies, nothing. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“Okay. That works for me.”

She cuts him a cool glare, not buying it for a second. Granted, she’s absolutely correct in her assumption, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He leans against the side of the aisle, matching her energy. “We can just get to know each other. Would that be so bad? Being friends?”

She thinks for a second before humming noncommittally, trying once again to return to her work. Issei lets her stack about three drinks before trying again.

“Do you like to bet?”

“What.” She doesn't bother to look back. She’s probably getting whiplash.

“Do you like to bet. Like, if I proposed a bet to you, would you take it?”

“Money involved?”

“Of course.”

“Does it include you leaving the store?”

“Nope.”

“Oh well. Worth a shot.” She stands, turns, and leans back against the fridges. Arms crossed, but not combative like he might have thought. It’s almost like she’s indulging him.

“Let’s hear it.”

When he had planned this bet last night with Suna, he had predicted at least seven different ways it could have gone. Using it as a last ditch effort to make her not hate him was surprisingly not one of them.

Issei takes a shaky breath and clears his throat. He wants the floor to eat him whole, but he still asks it with confidence. “I’ll bet you ¥8000 you’ll fall in love with me by the end of the month.”

Her eyes widen. Not with fear, but in disbelief.

She covers her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh. “¥8000? That’s like, half a shift.”

“I work at a barely-in-business bar, I only have so much.” He responds, trying to stay cool. Every time she chooses to indulge him his heart kicks up; he loves the challenge she poses to him.

She takes a moment and Issei swears the world comes crashing to a halt. It’s nothing special, a sideways glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. But she’s got that crinkle by her eyes again, a soft and genuine smile donning her features. Almost wide enough to see her teeth, but she’s not that generous.

“Yeah, alright. ¥8000 is ¥8000.”

Issei fully stumbles. He can hardly believe his luck. Not only did she not view him as a creepy stalker, she tolerated him enough to take the bet.

She graces him with a laugh. “You’re something else Mattsun.”

“You remembered my name?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re kinda hard to forget about.”

He’s almost positive she didn’t mean it as a compliment, but the implication that she’s thought about him at all is enough to send him spiraling. Not to mention how nice his name sounded coming from her voice. If he could live off that alone, he would.

“Now, are you going to bother me more or can I do my job?”

He simply raises a hand, pointing one finger up.

“Just one more thing. You know my name, what’s yours?”

She takes another moment, chewing at the inside of her cheek. The only noise being the whirr of the fridges and Issei’s bated breath.

“Mmm. I’ll let you figure it out.”

She grins, almost evilly, and he suddenly feels very excited for tomorrow.

taglist: open! fill out here.

@bakingcuriosity, @nobodybutnnoorr, @ciderscape, @lilchubbyyy, @soulfullystarry,

@interstellarz, @wakashudou , @myromanempiree, @notverymarley, @zumicho,

@lllaw, @eggyrocks, @cnnmairoll, @cosmiicdust, @reignsaway,

@wyrcan, @garfieldissocool, @soobin1437, @guitarstringed-scars, @adorerinn,

@thiisisntlovely, @miliondollagirl, @snail-squasher, @pocketful-ofdaisies, @cherrypieyourface,

@honeekyuu, @rivaiken

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Fallin’ 

“I keep on fallin’ in and out “

Or the modern AU of Sophie Beckett spirling down the whirlpool of her past relationships, Richard Gunningworth, Phillip Cavender, and the person she would never want to admit, but Benedict Bridgerton.

Or the prequel to Light Switch that no one wanted, but the little drabble I can’t get out of my mind, inspired by the song ‘Fallin’ by Alicia Keys.

Read Light Switch from here!

And introducing a sequel written by the talented @hopepaigeturner ‘The Alchemy’ (Read from here!)

A03 post from here,

⚠️ SMUT. NSFW.

Trigger Warning: mentions of sexual harassment/assault/ Domestic Violence/

“Sophie,”

“Yes?” Sophie looked up from her worn-out sneakers, but she still couldn’t help herself from fidgeting her hands. 

“All this, Sophie…” Mandy said with a small sigh, but it wasn’t stained with disappointment or frustration; Mandy’s glasses were placed on the coffee table very gently, very softly, with genuine care. And her eyes were kind and soft, 

“Sophie, this is,” Mandy paused. “Sophie, first, I want to say that I am so grateful you came here today. From your stepsister’s recommendation, you told me. But It must have taken so much courage to come here and share this story with me. And I am so proud that you are here right now, safe and sound.”

“...Thank you.” Sophie stared down at Mandy’s Crocs, a yellow smiley face trinket just on her toe.

“None of it is your fault.”

“None of it is my fault.”

Sophie closed her eyes and repeated her words.

“None of it is my fault.”

“Can I ask you one last question? If it is okay with you?”

“Of course.”

“Why,” Mandy paused, yet again. “Why do you think it took time for you to come to therapy? Has anyone suggested you before? Perhaps during your childhood or at school? During your hospitalization? The court hearings? Or after the restraining order?”

Sophie nervously placed her hand on her throat, making her nails bite into the back of her neck. 

A sharp, trickling pain, but Sophie reminded herself that she was allowed to breathe. Breathe. 

“It didn’t seem important.” She said quietly. “It never seemed important.”

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

The first day of the summer holidays was the only day in a year her father would take her out. It was mostly the same restaurant; Poppie’s Fish and Chips, the one on Hanbury Street, a noisy cramped place where Sophie could hardly hear her father’s voice. They would always line up in the long queues, and her father, who had been a man of very few words, never told her the reason why he took her there. 

When she had first come back from boarding school, Sophie had excitedly rambled on about her new friends and teachers; the exciting classes, and the school library she had always enjoyed. But it was only when she looked up from her cartmel toffee pudding she noticed that her father seemed to be focused on draining the Ale in front of him, rather than her whole speech about Cinderella being the best Disney Princess.

“Um, sir?”

Playing with the topping almonds, Sophie asked hesitantly, peering into her father’s deep forest eyes,

“Yes?”

“What’s your favorite Disney movie?”

“I’ve never seen any of them.”

“Really? Oh, you have to watch every one of them. They are kind of like musicals!” Sophie’s cheeks rosied, excited to introduce her to her favorite movies, “Nana used to sing me the songs at bedtime,”

“Yes, that is all very good, Sophia.”

“And Mama left me a copy of her book,”

“Sophia.”

“Maybe Sleeping Beauty, everyone likes that so maybe,”

“I don’t want them, Sophia.”

“But,”

 Before she could continue, she stopped herself, seeing the man in front of her tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. Exhaustion.Weary. His forehead buried into his right hand. His eyebrows would be knitted, and over the years, Sophie would understand that it was stitched with the words of regrets and utter disappointment,

Sophie clenched her fists on her lap, feeling the hot tears rise to her eyes. Although she had enjoyed the peaceful life in the countryside, she deeply missed her grandmother, her Nana, who had passed away just a year ago; her warm smiles and hugs, and her delicious Breton stew.

Although she was still quite terrified of the man who whisked her away from Norfolk and dropped her at the all-girls dormitory; she had thought; perhaps he would be excited to see her.

He was her father, after all.

Even if she was never allowed to call him that.

But as tears kept dropping on her melted vanilla ice cream, a hand placed on her head, a hesitant touch on her honey-colored curls, the wild ringlets that she didn’t quite know what to do without her Nana, 

“Just like your mother,”

Sophie tried to look up, but his hands were more firm in the place, forcing her to keep her eyes on her lap. His fingers tugged her curls, just a little,

“Your mother had the same curls.”

There was an unfamiliar color in his usual drawing voice; a tint of softness, a drop of melancholy.

“What was she like?”

Sophie asked softly, only knowing her mother through Nana's oddly ambiguous stories and photo albums. 

He touched his fingers to her chin and tipped her face up to the light. 

“You have the same eyes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like?”

She asked again. 

“An intelligent woman.”

“How so?”

But her innocent inquiry had crossed the line. His forest green eyes would harden into pitch darkness, the detached cold gaze that clutched her throat, preventing her from saying another word, 

“How so?”

And even after 20 years, Sophie continued to make the same mistakes. Asking when she isn’t supposed to ask,

“Baby, because that dress is just asking for trouble,” 

He roughly tugged the short hems of the silver dress: the one she had fallen in love with when she saw it shining and shimmering under the city lights. She normally thrifted her clothes, but the dress; she had to wear for herself,

“Go and change, babes.”

“But, Phillip,”

“Baby, baby, baby.” His hands would roam against her waist, his eyes would darken, “You really don’t see how other men look at you, do you?”

“Phillip, I didn’t mean to,”

“So naive,”

“But,”

“Be a good girl for me and change the dress, will you?”

And in one swift motion, he would zip down the dress, the glittering silver sliding down from her shoulders.

“So beautiful,”

He murmured against her neck, a small moan escaping from her lips with his every breath, every touch. 

Only a few hours had passed since the nameless man led her to the dance floor, but it was almost as if he knew everything about her, every stroke of his hands, his tongue, his lips, it was just sweetness rising to the air, making her fall apart in his arms.

A tiny bit of sanity left inside her was thinking, perhaps Phillip was right when he said the dress was asking for trouble. Because this man was truly trouble indeed, god, she didn’t even know his name, and between the darkness and the blinding lights, she couldn’t even see the color of his eyes.

But it wasn’t the cold eyes that pushed her miles away,

And it wasn’t the dark eyes that left her trembling, 

For Sophie, that was all enough.

“So, so, beautiful,”

His soft, deep voice, which Sophie couldn’t help but adore, whispering into her ear, 

“Just let it go,”

“No more questions about your mother.”

Her father’s tone was always flat and monotonous.

“But,”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

And the two continued to eat in silence. Her father on his ale, Sophie on her caramel toffee pudding. But Sophie could hardly enjoy the melted vanilla ice cream, it was just too sticky, too salty, mixed with the taste of her tears and her runny nose. The taste of her own fluid was making her feel sick. Her father didn’t even take out his handkerchief. 

“Sophia.”

On the way to his London flat, her father finally broke the silence.

“I…” He paused. He sighed again, tapping his fingers on the car wheel. “Your teachers told me that you excel in your studies,”

Sophie finally felt like she was permitted to look up from her black shoes. 

“I’m expecting a lot from you, Sophia.”

“Yes, sir.”

But did her father actually expect something from her?

No matter how many times she reached the top of her class, how many prizes she got from her literary essays, her father never said anything to her, report cards she found disregarded in the bin at his home study, unopened, ignored, 

“I’m so proud of you,”

Sophie felt overwhelming pride and joy as Phillip shot her one of his dashing smiles from the table, pouring wine into her glass. It was a lovely Italian restaurant he had taken her to celebrate her promotion; the kind of place that had dimmed lights and romantic candles, petite roses placed in the middle of their table. 

“The effort you put into each writing is truly extraordinary. A lady of most exceeding talents,” Sophie blushed as Phillip raised his glass for a small toast, a teasing smile on his lips, “Matching to your equally beautiful looks,”

A light tug in her throat, but she decided to let it go. After all, Phillip Cavender, one of the senior editors, had been so caring and helpful to her from the first day of her internship; always making time to chat with her, leaving coffee and little sweets when he passed by her desk.

“It’s all thanks to you, Phillip” Sophie said shyly, “I wouldn’t have gotten the promotion if it weren’t for your assistance, and your recommendation to Danbury.”

“Anything for my little intern.”

Sophie’s heart leaped as Phillip gently took her hand, his thumb gently drawing small circles against her skin. And she noticed that she couldn’t quite draw her hand back,

“I, I really don’t know how to thank you,”

She stared down at her feet, trying to ignore her beating heart. 

“Well, I could think of some ways,”

Under the table, Sophie felt Phillip’s shoes trailing up to her ankles, and his other hand was reaching for her thighs,

Sophie froze in her seat.

“I’m not really…”

“Come on, Beckett, I’m just messing with you!” He laughed wholeheartedly, his hands returning to the table, “It’s only a joke, Beckett. Loosen up a little! Do I look like a guy who would let a woman sleep one’s way up?”

“No, of course not.” Sophie tried to smile back, fondling with the hems of the tablecloth. “You wouldn’t never do that,”

“But,”

“But?”

“I was wondering if we could make this a date?”

“A date?”

“I said I’ll take you out to celebrate,” Phillip continued, his warm hands placed on hers again, “But I really want this to be our first date. I really like you, ”

“Oh.”

“Come on Beckett,” He grinned teasingly, “You’ve got to give me some credit for giving you this promotion.”

After that, Phillip had walked her home to her flat, and Sophie couldn’t quite believe that Phillip Cavender actually liked her, or how Phillip intertwined his fingers between his, or how his hands slipped to her waist, tugging her close to his arms as they walked down the London streets. Phillip Cavender! Always the first to crack a joke in the room, the dashing smile and his wide circle of acquaintances, always in the center of heated debate,

And he was walking her home. For her.

“So, here we are.”

“Who knew Ms. Beckett lived above some fine little China?”

“….It’s a Vietnamese restaurant.”

“It’s all Asian.” Phillip shrugged. “Basically the same.”

“Every culture’s different.” Sophie shook her head with a weak smile, “The Banh mi is absolutely gorgeous here, you should try it sometime,”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Come on, Beckett. you wouldn’t have missed that,”

She was surprised to find his soft brown eyes quite close to her. Philip took a step closer, and her back hit the lamppost, feeling the coolness of the metal pole against her coat. But his warm hands cupped her cheeks, and Sophie noticed that she couldn’t quite move. Or even utter a word.

“I like you, Sophie.”

Right. 

“And I would like to kiss you.”

Right, of course, right. Right. Right. It was a date, after all.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nodded.

And there was a kiss. 

Wet?

“I’ve always wanted to do this since I first met you in Danbury’s office,”

“Really?”

“Mmm,”

His beard scratching her skin, 

“I always wanted you so much,”

“Um,”

“Mm?”

“Would you like to come up to my room?”

“Oh, hell yes.”

When Sophie admitted hastily about her lack of experience in that area, Phillip had broken out in a satisfying smile, grinning from ear to ear. He began to stretch out his fingers as if he were warming up for another round of volleyball.

“So,” Phillip slowly undid the buttons of her lace blouse, his hands gently tracing her soft curves, “Does it mean I’m your first?”

“Um, kind of?” 

Sophie smiled weakly as Phillip unhooked off her bra with composed expertise. Sophie’s breath hitched as he began to nuzzle her neck, his beard tickling her skin, 

“A pretty girl like you?”

“I just,” Sophie gasped as his hands cupped her breasts. “...Didn’t have much time for relationships.”

“Bet you were waiting for me,”

“Sometimes you are far too overconfident,” Sophie giggled but her light tease was taken over a muffled yelp as he pinched her nipples.  

“Shhhhh.” Phillip would whisper to her, “Hey, just leave it all to me. Just relax and listen to your body. It's going to be alright,”

But it was never all right. Just a lot of twisting and grasping, a lot of panting. But it was insanely addictive. The moans and gasps of satisfaction against her shoulder, endearments rasped into her ear as he thrust in faster and faster. The hot striking pain lost in the flood of sweet words, 

Is it supposed to be like this?

She didn’t question the fact that her father never came to school on visiting days, spending the lonesome hours alone in the library, listening to the homely domestic chatter from the window. She didn’t question the reason why she was locked up in the upstairs closet; not knowing how many hours had passed by. Huddled, shivering in the corner with her head on her knees. And her father never questioned the swelling of her cheeks or the burnt marks on her ankles. While Araminta screamed at her from the table, her father never stopped his hands on the knives and the fork. 

“Worthless git,” Araminta’s voice was still engraved in her head, 

Is it supposed to be like this?

The thrusting inside her gradually ceased, and the heavy weight of Phillip over her body suddenly pulled her back to her tiny studio apartment, Sophie trying to keep her focus on the little mold in the ceiling..

Mucky. Sticky . Sweaty Hot. Heavy. Wet.

“I think you’re amazing,” Phillip whispered to her breathlessly as he rolled onto the side, propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re just so perfect,” 

As Phillip wrapped her around his arms and gently cuddled her against her back, Sophie finally felt the tingling warmth inside her belly, just like the warm little tingle she felt on Christmas mornings. All alone in the dormitory, she would pop peppermint candy in her mouth, the one her father sent in his Christmas packages.  

It is supposed to be like this, 

First few months were the definition of bliss. Flowers every morning, little banters on the morning subway, stolen kisses on the elevator. Always the smartest, the funniest, leaving her in giggles as they spent the weekends in bed. He wanted to know everything about her, from her past (which she hardly told the truth) to her hopes and dreams, and ambitions for the future (which she always told the truth). Living in the countryside, owning a little bookstore in a small town, (So modest, he would laugh at her.) And he had believed in her, trusted her as an editor, as a person, in a way no one else had ever had. 

And he was the first person who told her that he loved her. 

Love. Love. Love. 

Like sweet chocolates. Bubbling lemon drops. Shimmering glass crystals.

Always scribbled hastily on a scrap of crumpled paper; 

To Sophia. From Richard. With love, never written. 

Delicate music boxes. Intricate picture books. 

Fairytales and dolls. 

Necklaces and trinkets. 

Ribbons. 

Love.

Love.

Love.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

“Love your chicken soup,”

“I love you.”

“Just turn off the phone and focus on me, babes.”

“I love you.”

“Relax, I’m good at pulling out.”

“I love you.”

“I thought you were going to spend the weekends with me?”

“I love you.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me here while you get yourself drunk with your colleagues?”

“I love you,”

“All you need to do is take these pills,”

“I’m just saying because I love you.”

Love.Love. Love. 

The neverending debt, 

Love.

Love.

Love.

Isn’t it supposed to be like this? 

“Do you even understand what love is, babes?” Phillip muttered irritatingly, tapping his fingers on the silver fridge. “It means having my back at all times. Supporting me. Unconditionally. Never heard of the word ‘unconditional love’? Or do you even love me?” 

“Of course, I love you,” Sophie said quickly, her hands still working on the dishes, cleaning the leftover ravioli Phillip always craved on Saturday evenings. “But this is another matter, Phillip. I just wanted to say that some expressions in your article might provoke discomfort,”

“So are you calling me stupid?”

“I never said that, Phillip.”

“But you did,” He quietly placed the wine glass on the kitchen table. Sophie froze in her place, noticing the shift in the air. 

“How could you ever think you could question my judgment?”

“Phillip, I didn’t.”

“When did I say you could stop washing the dishes?”

“I thought I should listen to you,”

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” Phillip sneered at her, a light jab on her ribs. “You would still have been the fucking intern if it weren’t for me.”

“You can’t do anything right.”

“Sophia, why is it that you always seem to be causing trouble?”

But Rosamund punched me first, Sophie wanted to scream back at him, but seeing the chilling glare in her father’s eyes, she knew it was better to seal her lips shut. Despite the ice pack the school nurse had given to her, there was still a burning pain in her swollen cheeks, still tasting the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

“It’s the third time this semester, Sophia.” He added coolly from the metal stool that was placed next to the bed. “I told you to deal better with Rosamund,”

“I tried,”

“Did you go?”

“I did my best,”

“And, it’s not ENOUGH!”

Sophie froze on the infirmary bed. Unlike Araminta or Rosamund, her father rarely raised his voice. While Sophie sometimes managed to bite back at Rosamund or flee from Araminta’s screeches, her father’s voice always left her petrified. But Sophie also knew that his eyes would go to her ringlet curls, all reminders of a woman who only remained in photo albums, the curls that he always played with as she bit into those fish and chips when she was much younger, 

“Fucking hell.” He cursed under his breath, “I can’t deal with this anymore.”  

Sophie stared down at her shoes, clenching to the hems of her skirts. 

No, Rosumund was not going to make her cry again, 

“Did you know I had to drive four hours to come here?”

“I’m sorry,”

“And I’m missing four meetings, Sophia. Do you understand that?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to Rosamund,”

“But,”

“I don’t want to hear any more from you.”

With an exasperated sigh, her father turned his heels from her, his fingers twitching for a cigarette; but Sophie foolishly grabbed the end of his jacket, stopping him dead on the tracks.

“Don’t go.”

“Sophia”

“Please,”

“Sophia,” Her father flickered his fingers impatiently, but he didn’t have the nerve to smack off her hand, “What did I just say,”

“Won’t you let me change schools?” She hated how weak and desperate her voice sounded, “Araminta doesn’t like me here studying here with Posy and Rosamund. Can’t you send me to another school in London where I can go from your flat? Just please, please. Please. Don’t leave me here,” 

But her father stepped away from her clutch, a click of his tongue was enough to tell her that he wasn’t going to stay. 

“This is for your own good, Sophia.”

His leather shoes were still trimmed with dirt; Sophie would shine them every day when he took her to his flat on holidays, just to see a small smile on his face when he left her alone for work, but miles and miles away from London, she didn’t have the chance to wake up early in the morning to grab a cloth and a leather cleaner, and she rather missed the smell of the white leather cream as she sat on the floor,

“Just do better, Sophia.”

And he left, 

All alone in the room, Sophie broke out in a sob, but she heard her father say in just barely above a whisper,

“I’m doing this all for you,”

“Baby, baby, baby.” After a violent slap, Phillip would always hold her tight in his arms, softly placing an ice pack over her swollen cheeks and gently placing a kiss on her forehead. “I forgive you, Babes. Besides, it’s not your fault that you can’t do anything right. Hey, hey, it’s all right, Baby. I’m always, always here for you,”

Despite the soothing tone, Sophie was beginning to feel dizzy, very, very sick in the stomach. Dashing to the washroom, Sophie vomited everything that was inside her, including the sticky white fluid that went down her throat a few minutes earlier. But a gentle hand kept rubbing her back, soothing her from the nausea. Wiping bits of vomit and cum with a handkerchief. 

“You’re so lucky to have me, aren’t you?” Phillip cooed, wiping off the painful tears that kept running down her cheeks, “I’ve given you so much, haven’t I?”

“So, so, much.”

“So you wouldn’t say no, would you?”

His fingers moved to her neck.

“Because it’s not enough,”

As Phillip sent her a small wink from his desk. Sophie smiled sweetly back at him, softly playing with the rose petals. A little note was placed between the lush blossoms; 

To my sweet dumplings,

“Gross.” Eloise gagged in her tea as she read the note over her shoulder. “Why does Cavender call you that?”

“It’s supposed to be a joke,” Sophie said, quickly hiding the note in her desk drawer. “Sorry about the flowers, I know I’m invading your space.”

“More like Cavender’s invading my space,” Eloise scoffed. “Can’t you tell him to just fuck it off with the goddam flowers every day?”

“I could never tell him that,”

“Never?” Eloise raised her eyebrows, and Sophie felt a slight sense of panic.

“I’ll tell him, El.”

“So you say,” Eloise snared sarcastically. As Eloise returned to her laptop, Sophie couldn’t help noticing that her fingers tapping the keyboards were a little louder than usual. Sophie nervously put away the roses in her paper bag, away from Eloise’s sight, 

“El, I’m sorry,”

“What are you even sorry for?” Eloise muttered.

“For not backing you up,”

Yesterday’s editor meeting was chaotic. Although Danbury had agreed on Eloise having the Sunday feature, Phillip had suddenly insisted on taking it down, saying that her coverage was too dark for the Sunday cover. 

“TOO DARK?”

“Yes, Bridgerton. You do understand that our target audience is,”

“THEN JUST THROW AWAY ALL ARTICLES!”

As Eloise and Cavender broke out in a thunderous fight in the conference room, Phillip suddenly turned his attention to Sophie, who had been trying her best to stay invisible. 

“Babes, you understand what I mean, right?”

“Beckett, if you had the fucking decency, you would agree with me.”

Of course, Eloise, Sophie opened her mouth to say those words, but Phillip raised his eyebrows, tapping his forefinger on the table. 

Tapping. Tapping. Tapping. 

Sophie was suddenly entrapped by the sound of the noise, those fingers that wrapped around her throat just the other night. Clenching them so hard that it left marks on her neck, and even though he was a foot away, Sophie noticed that she couldn’t quite breathe again, 

“I thought I gave you ‘The big break’”

“Do you want this job or not?”

“Don’t you ever think about questioning me ever again,”

“I thought you supported my article.”

“I did, Eloise. But Phillip did have a point,”

With a large bang, Eloise snapped her laptop shut.  

“Do you not know that two women are being murdered each week by their partners? 242 domestic abuse-related deaths were recorded last year. 242, Beckett. And it’s my job to bring awareness to the public. I SPENT BLOODY SIX MONTHS ON THIS ARTICLE DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I POURED MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THIS?”

“Eloise.”

“You know what I respected about you, Beckett?”

“Eloise,”

“Your goddam integrity, I respected you because you had some fucking integrity,” Eloise pointed her finger angrily, “And you still call yourself a journalist?”

“Eloise, I’m sorry,”

Eloise stormed out of the office, a packet of cigarettes in her hands. The office was oddly silent. 

“Serves her right,” She heard someone mutter and murmur of agreement around them. 

In the corner of her eye, she saw Philip laughing hysterically with the other senior editors; Heasley and Fletcher. Joking something about hormones, periods, and female rage. 

“Bridgerton does have a point,” Theo said quietly from the other side of the desk. “I think you should talk to her.”

Sophie found Eloise on her usual rooftop, puffing away her Benson and Hedges. Although Eloise ignored her as Sophie sat next to her on the bench, she was the first one to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

“You have all the right to yell at me,” Sophie said weakly. “It’s all my fault.”

“Oh, stop it with your self-loathing and self-deprecation. I hate all that crap.” Eloise muttered between huffs, “You just can’t stand up for yourself, can you?”

“Eloise,”

“Why are you letting Cavender take over you?”

“I’m.”

“You never come to drink these days, saying that it’s a date night. Even if you did come, you are constantly on the phone, You’re always backing his pitches in meetings, and you even laugh at his jokes. His sexist jokes, Beckett. You’re unbelievable.”

Eloise dropped the cigarette in the ashtray, 

“I know I shouldn’t tell you this,” Eloise said quietly. “Do you know why no one speaks to you anymore other than me or Sharp, or the Toxic Lord Squad? Because everyone thinks you are sucking his dick to get your article on the table,”

Am I? 

“And you know I hate gossip, Beckett.” Eloise continued,  “But from where I see it, it isn’t far from the truth.” 

“Just break up with him.”

I can’t.

“And just go back to your normal self.”

I can’t.

“Araminta, I can’t pay all this money.”

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“I can’t, Phillip.”

“Go on, Sophie.”

“But,”

“But you can,”

He would zip down his trousers, softly caressing her curls, 

“Don’t I deserve this for buying dinner?”

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

The perfect daughter.

The perfect sister.

The perfect student. 

The perfect colleague. 

The perfect girlfriend. 

The checkboxes she just couldn’t fill. 

The debts she couldn’t repay.

No matter how hard she strived. 

All the things that she just couldn’t do. 

The list of requirements.

Drowning her. 

And she couldn’t breathe. 

She was almost drowning in her own bathtub as Phillip mounted over her, his leather shoes drilling in her bare skin, and the clear bubbles were becoming cloudy, mixed with mud and dirt,

“No, Phillip, please,” 

Between gasps, she managed to croak out, but the grip on her neck only became tighter.

“You think that you could break up with me?”

“No, Phillip,” The flood of water and bubbles entered her mouth, and she could only cough, gasping for air. “I wasn't, I just maybe, break, a while, ”

“How could you do this to me?”

But in the next moment, she only saw a clenched fist coming up to her eyes,

And she only saw darkness.

So Sophie ran. Through the great hall, through the blooming gardens, through the dark forest, Sophie kept running, running, running until she noticed that she didn’t quite know where she was going. But she had to escape from Araminta, her shilling screams and the broken plates, no, she couldn’t bear them anymore, 

So Sophie ran. Through the streetlamps, through the chaotic carnivals of cars, through the flashing lights, Sophie kept running, running, running. And twenty years later, she still didn’t know where she was going. But she had to escape from Phillip, his banging fists, and the broken plates, no, no, no…This shouldn’t be happening. 

Over and over again. WHY? WHY? WHY?  

“You can’t do anything right.”

“You can’t do anything right.”

“You can’t do anything right,”

Sophie found herself laughing. Laughing hysterically. Alone in the streets of London. One hand leaning on the lamppost, one hand on her stomach. Sophie wheezed and giggled, the absolute irony and the absurdity of the situation was leaving her in stitches. Pure comedy. So, so, hilarious. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so bluntly. Fits of laughter.

Until she was crying again on the pavement.

Alone again. 

But Peculiar looks she was getting from the other pedestrians slowly pulled her back into her senses. She suddenly felt her cheeks turning red; afterall, she was barefoot and only wearing her bathrobe, her hair drenched to the skin. God, she must look like a bloody pervert. Taking a deep breath, Sophie tried to list out the places she could go, perhaps for a decent set of clothes and a place to stay for the night. 

Eloise? No, Eloise stopped talking to her after the article incident. Posy? No, Sophie had cut off all her contact with her family when she left home. Araminta? No, after saving every penny to escape from her, she wasn’t going to go back to that hell ever again. 

But then, she noticed that She didn’t even have her phone or even her wallet.

“You can’t do anything right.”

All she could do was go back to her apartment. 

Perhaps Phillip would forgive her if she apologized. 

Apologize. 

But for what exactly? 

“No, no, no, she just fell down the stairs,” Outside the white curtain, Sophie heard Phillip's usual gallant tone, explaining that he was the chief editor of Whistledown and how he knew a surgeon in the hospital who happened to be his long time friend from college. “She’s really clumsy, you know. Always knocking over things,”

“You’ve explained that to me multiple times, Mr. Cavender,” A voice said rather cooly, “I have to ask you to step away, I’ll be taking her pulse, and the doctor would want to check if she needs an MRI,”

Sophie’s fingers were shaking yet again as a figure entered her compartmentalization; but it wasn’t the booming body looming over her, but a petite, bubbly nurse with a friendly smile, 

“Posy?”

“Sophie, oh, Sophie, Sophie,”

Posy hugged with all her might, and although Sophie still felt a sharp pain in her ribs, she noticed that she didn’t mind the pain at all, 

“Are you all right, Sophie? Oh, Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. Oh my god, it’s been ages since I last saw you. Why didn’t you even leave your phone number? I’ll be the last person on earth to snitch on Mum. And Richard misses you. I think. I don’t know. I don’t talk to him as well. But I missed you so much! You know Sophie, I also left home! Oh, and I’m married!! To Hugh! Oh, I’d love for you to meet him, Sophie. I wanted to invite you to the wedding so I tried to search you up on the Internet, but you’re not on anything! Oh, Sophie, it’s so nice to see you again. I saw your name on the board and I just had to drop by, and Sophie these bruises on your neck,”

“I thought you were taking her pulse.” 

As Philip popped his head from the curtains, Sophie’s mind suddenly started spiraling. She was still halfway through her research, but She didn’t have dinner ready at the table, and she knew she left the laundry halfway. On Monday she had to pick up his shirts, and she might have forgotten to brush out the bookshelves, and the pitch meeting on Thursday, she would have to watch Phillip as he tapped his fingers, 

But Phillip gently sat beside her and cupped his hands to her cheeks. 

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me you woke up?”

“I’m sorry, Phillip, I just.”

“Shhhh,” With a soft smile Phillip held out his hand in a stop. “It’s all right, baby. I was just so worried about you.”

Phillip placed a small peck on her cheeks, 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Posy and Phillip hastily exchanged greetings, but as soon as he realized Posy wasn’t the one specifically in charge of Sophie, Phillip shooed Posy from her bed, rambling on that his girlfriend needed the doctor and not the nurse. But Sophie noticed that Posy had scribbled a tiny note in her hand, her phone number and her address. 

Call me, she wrote, Please, 

But the intimidating banging never stopped. Whether it was early in the morning, or so deep in the night, Phillip would always bang on her door, and Sophie had no other choice but to open up; after all, she didn’t want to be kicked out of her apartment for bothering the neighbors; the only place she had been finally able to afford for herself, away from Araminta. Even when she knew that Phillip was under a strict restraining order, Sophie would flinch as the door banging started again, just when the clock struck midnight. Sophie knew it would be the same all over again, the same bouquet of lilies, the endless begging, the endless pleas followed with another swing of his fist,

“Hi,”

“Hi,”

But this night, it was the sweet kiss of Benedict Bridgerton that welcomed her, the soft scent of Sandalwood and Soap. And cigarettes. And weed. She quickly pulled away, breaking off from his passionate kisses with a tug on his shoulders. Benedict pouted his mouth with puppy pleading eyes and held her waist to follow her lips. Sophie quickly covered his mouth, stopping him from chasing any further.

“But, your girlfriend, isn’t she,”

“Gen?”

His voice was muffled, and Sophie quickly removed her hand,

“Her name is Gen?”

Benedict gave her one of his lopsided smirks, loosening his tie with his right hand, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Another kiss was pressed on her lips, his tongue slipping from the corner of her mouth, melting her,distracting her from every thought; every emotion, the every confusion that battered her when she heard the London cockney accent on the other side of his phone that morning, 

“Then who is she?”

“Do you need to know?”

With a raise of an eyebrow, Benedict asked her, a slight tilt of a head. But his jacket was again discarded on the floor, his fingers were slowly working on his shirt, revealing an inch of his skin every minute,

“No,”

Because he had a sweet, melodic rhythm, 

and she would hold on tight. 

Leaving her breathless and a little desperate, 

Always wanting a little bit more,

a little bit more of him. 

Hips rocking.

Chasing him.

Is it supposed to be like this?

“I don’t do relationships.”

“Oh,”

Sophie didn’t quite know how to respond to his not-so-guilty confession. After all, Phillip had been all out about her being his girlfriend, and Benedict had been her first casual fling. The checkboxes of “girlfriend” she had tried her best to perfect, but no strings attached? Sophie didn't exactly have the playbook for ‘Casual Relationships’. 

“Seriousness is not really what I want,” He sipped from her mug, the Earl Grey she passed to him minutes ago, “Rather Live my life as a free spirit?” He fluttered his hands jokingly, like a little bird. 

It is supposed to be like this, 

“I understand,” She said, a small smile on her lips “I’ve seen too many broken relationships as well,”

Benedict gently placed the mug on her kitchen table, his fingers weren’t tapping on the fridge, but it softly brushed a strand of hair from her face. 

“I’ll leave if you want, I really don’t mind if you don’t want any of this,”

When his hands softly caressed her cheeks, she noticed it wasn’t the hesitant touch of her father or the violent grip of Phillip, it was the touch that she had never felt, and in three seconds, his fingers left her skin, his feet stepping away to the door, 

Leaving her all alone again,

Sophie had grasped him by the collar, slightly tiptoeing to reach the corner of his mouth.

“Stay,” she murmured against his lips, “Don’t go,”

Sophie felt Benedict's lips twist into a wicked grin, 

“Then make me want to stay, Sophie.”

Sophie felt shivers down her spine as he rasped in her ears, his voice now hoarse and deep, rumbling from the deep part of his lungs.

Unconsciously, Sophie found herself dropping down on her knees, softly fondling with the smooth material of his St.Lauren suit. Sophie heard Benedict’s breath hitch slightly as she traced his manhood with her palm, softly, gently as Phillip had first taught her.

Benedict softly played with her curls as she worked her way through his belt and the silver zipper, and she was actually quite pleased when she noticed that he was already quite hard under his boxers.

“Baby Yoda?”

“You wouldn’t leak that to GQ, would you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,”

Benedict groaned as Sophie pressed the heat of his erection against her eyelids. She softly placed her hands on his penis, gently stroking them upwards and downward.

“Upcoming fame Benedict Bridgerton,” She rasped against his hardness, placing a soft kiss on top of his shaft. She tasted him, salty in her mouth, and she felt his body harden, 

“No, Sophie, don’t talk right there,”

“Revealed to be a Lucasist,”

“You’re not going to call me a nerd?”

“I pay my fair respects to George Lucas as well,”

With a toss of her head, Sophie flipped her curls back and eased her lips up and down, a little twirl of her tongue. Licking up his length, Sophie smiled softly, his eyes were closed tightly as if he were relishing into depth of delight, His eyebrows were knitted not in disappointment or embarrassment but sweet relief and pleasure, the deep satisfaction bubbling up to her stomach as she watched his expression change every second. It was quite fascinating, THE Benedict Bridgerton flushed, withering and gasping with just a flick of her tongue, the snap of her wrists, a touch of her fingers, and somehow it was all so thrilling, 

and she slipped her hand between her legs, 

And Sophie continued, 

Because she had a sweet melodic rhythm. 

and he would hold on tight.

Leaving him breathless and a little desperate. 

Always wanting a little bit more, 

a little bit more of her. 

Hips rocking.

Chasing her.

“Christ,”

A desperate, breathless moan escaped from his lips as she took him further deeper, 

“How the fuck are you so good?” Benedict muttered, tilting his head back to savor the gentle pleasure Sophie was giving him,

“So, so, good.”

The grip on her curls would gradually tighten.

“Be a good girl for me.”

“Such a good girl,”

It would always begin with a suggestion,

 slowly changing into demands.

In just the briefest of seconds,

In one touch of the hand,

 everything would slip away from her fingers. 

Again. Again. Again.

Over and over. 

“Be a good girl for me, Sophia.”

His hands firm in place. So she can’t look up. So she can’t even see. 

“Baby, Baby, Baby,”

Crammed deep down her throat, hot tears running down her cheeks.

“Sophie.”

Her sweet tempo lost in his thrusts. 

And Sophie couldn’t breathe again, 

“Such a good girl,”

A hesitant hand stroked her curls as Sophie continued sobbing.

A tall broad man with slicked-back hair was standing next to her before the cathedral, the man who had taken her from sweet Suzie, her grandmother’s nurse from the hospital. The cold detached voice told her that he would be addressed as ‘Richard’. But Sophie had never seen or heard of the man’s name. 

“I was…” Between tears and sobs, Sophie saw his black shoes drizzled with specs of mud, “A friend. Of your mother’s.” 

He went down on his knees, trying to peer into her eyes as she hid behind the stone pillars.

“And I promised her that you will be taken care of.”

“I promise I’ll take good care of you, Sophia.”

“I promise.”

And Sophie had taken his hand. 

“Such a good girl,”

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

“Sophie?”

“Yes?” Sophie looked up from her worn-out sneakers, but she still fidgeted her hands. Thanks to the sleeping pills, Sophie’s sleeping habits had definitely improved, and the quiet, slow life at Wiltshire had given her time to loosen up a bit. To look back and reflect. However, the crisp country air and the lovely armchair she sat in weren’t quite enough to forget everything she had kept in the shadows all her life. 

“Sophie, did you hear my question?”

“Yes.” Sophie nodded, “Sorry, I was just. Thinking.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Sophie.” Mandy smiled sweetly from her clipboard. “Take all the time you need.” 

“It’s just.”

“Everything gets fuzzy sometimes.”

“Like,”

“I get lost.”

“And everything keeps overlapping.”

“You know.”

“A lot of voices”

“Hands.”

“Fingers.”

“And I can’t.”

“Breathe.”

“And I keep drowning.”

“And keeps spiraling.”

“Repeating the same mistakes over and over and over again,”

“Sophie, I can assure you that coming here was not a mistake.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s start from the very beginning shall we?”

“The very beginning?”

“Yes.”

Sophie took a deep breath. 

“Um. Richard. Richard. My father.”

“But he wasn’t Papa, or Dad, or anything.”

“He, he would only ever take me out on the first day of summer holidays…” 

#Writer’s Notes

Again, Shoutout to @hopepaigeturner!!

Thank you so much for saving the Light Switch Benophies,

[jellybear455]

Let me heal you - Neteyam x reader (Part 7)

a/n: Okay but this is a mildly depressing chapter. Also two in one day because I couldn't wait to get this up :)

Characters are aged up.

Warnings: a LOT of spoilers (don't come at me for it), Lo'ak being a shxawng, violence, injury

Readers name is Stela, and uses she/her pronouns.

Word count: 1108

Previous part

Next part

--

All hell had broken loose. Ronal and Tonowari were shouting at me, Jake Sully and Neytiri were shouting at Neteyam, and all the adults were shouting at each other.

“We have taken you in out of our kindness and you let your son mess around with my niece?”

“You should have though this through, Neteyam These people have given us sanctuary, and you risk that!”

“Ay, Stela, after I took you in, knowing you had demon blood, thinking I could change you! I almost wish my sister had been killed in the war instead.”

It becomes silent. Ronal covers her mouth with her hand. She had gone too far, and she knew it. Tears prick at my eyes again, but I will not cry. I will not.

“Go back to our mauri.” She whispers. “Go!”

I stand, and Neteyam pulls himself up with me. He gives his parents a sideways glance, before cupping his hand to my cheek. Ronal stays silent.

“Don’t worry, my syulang, I will work this out. Okay?” He mutters.

“Okay,” I whisper back, but somehow this feels like goodbye. I kiss his forehead, Ignoring how Neytiri squeaks in annoyance. “I will see you later, my Teyam.”

As I leave the mauri, my eyes begin to sting. The whole walk back, I cry bitter tears. I ache for Naola’s sweet words of comfort.

--

The next morning, I sit in the mauri, quietly weaving a fishing net. I had not been allowed to leave all morning. Ronal had told me indirectly, through Tsireya. She was yet to speak a word to me.

The creaking of the walkway alerts me of the approaching group. Tonowari leads Tsireya, Anoung, Neteyam, and Lo’ak towards me. Ronal brings up the rear, her hand on Lo’ak’s back. They all wear solemn expressions, and Tsireya is on the brink of tears.

Neteyam catches my eyes, offering a small smile. I can see Ronal watching from behind, but she does not comment. Instead, she paces in front of the group.

“You allowed this,” she finally says, her eyes darting between Tsireya and Anoung. “You allowed him to bond with the outcast.”

She glares at Lo’ak, who hangs his head, but does not look ashamed.

“Tsireya,” Tonowari says. “You disappoint me, daughter.”

I stand from my seat behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. I will not let her feel like I had. My cousin clutches my hand tightly, still fighting a loosing battle against a wave of tears. She hangs her head, but unlike Lo’ak, she does look ashamed.

Tonowari turns to Lo’ak. “And you, son of a great warrior, who has been taught better.”

“Bayakan saved my life, sir. You do not know him.” Lo’ak insisted, unaware of his parents approaching from behind. Neytiri spots me, but this time her eyes are filled with pity instead of anger.

“No, Lo’ak,” Tsireya whispers in warning.

“Sit.” Tonowari mutters. Lo’ak lowers to his hunches. No one else moves. “Sit down!”

I take this as my queue to resume my weaving. I do not want to become the subject of Tonowari’s rage today. Not again.

“Hear my words, boy. In the days of the first songs, tulkun fought amongst themselves. For territory and for revenge. But they came to believe that killing, no matter how justified, only brings more killing. So, all killing was forbidden. This is the tulkun way.” As Tonowari spoke, Ronal paced behind him, and Neteyam keeps his eyes on me. “Bayakan is a killer. So, he is outcast.”

“I am sorry, sir. But you’re wrong.”

Neytiri hissed. “Lo’ak.”

“I know.” Lo’ak insisted.

“That is enough.” Jake Sully finally spoke up. He grabbed Lo’ak by the forearm and dragged him away, not unlike how Ronal had done to me the night before.

Tonowari let out an angry sigh, running a hand down his face. Neteyam stood quickly, following his mother and father. Dropping my weaving, went to do the same, but Ronal took my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I did not think you would want to be in the presence of a vrrtep (demon).” I said, shaking my arm out of her grip. She did not protest as I left.

“My Teyam!” I called.

He flashed his beautiful smile when he spotted me. “Stela.”

“I’m sorry about last night. I did not mean for them to find out.”

“They would have had to eventually.”

“I suppose,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. “But I did not want it to be this way.”

Neteyam hummed, before taking my hand and leading me down onto the beach. We sat in the sand together in silence. Any worry that Neteyam would no longer be interested in me were gone.

Ronal and Tonowari rushed by on their Ilus, followed by a group of Metkayina, Jake Sully and Neytiri. Neteyam and I exchanged looks. We left the beach, and I called my Ilu. We followed them outside of the bay until we reached the tulkun pod. There, floating lifelessly in among them, was Naola.

A scream echoed in the air, but I didn’t stop to realise it was my own. Neteyam clutched my waist tighter as I urged my Ilu faster. I pried his fingers off me before diving into the water and crawling onto Naola’s fin. Her lifeless eyes stared into nothing, and another scream ripped at my throat.

“My sister…” I pressed my already glowing hands to her side searching for something, anything, any sign that she was still there, and I could bring her back. There was nothing.

“Who did this?” I asked, but it remained silent. “Who did this?”

“The sky people.” Jake Sully called from his Ilu.

“The sky people…” I repeated, struggling to see through the barrage of tears. “The sky people killed my sister… my Naola… I will kill them. I will kill them!” I sobbed and sobbed, wrapping my arms around my sister.

“Stela, we must go, it is not safe here.” Ronal urged, reaching out towards me.

“No, no! Don’t touch her… don’t touch me! No, no…” My head hurt. I could not see. I felt sick with grief and helplessness.

“Syulang,” Neteyam. “You must come.”

I let him pull me away from my sister and hold me in his arms. The ride back was long and painful. Neteyam’s arms around me, and the sweet memories of my Naola kept me grounded. By the time we had arrived back at the village, the tears were gone, replaced only by the suffocating anger squeezing at my heart.

I will get my revenge, and I will kill the people who did this. Who took away my sister.

--

Tag list:

@sloppierjewel

@inutheangel

@nopenopebutyepyep

@directioner5life

@yogirlfriend

@casuallydogobsessed

@yzulu

@fanboyluvr

@mashiromochi

[lunasohma]

gone fishin’

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Two exorcists wade into a river.

Alternatively: Natori and Matoba’s riparian adventure with an 80% chance of death or at the very least, grievous injury.

There is a hold-up at the pet shop. The sounds of a disagreement filter back through the shelves and Natori listens with the vaguest sense of disquiet. A separate queue has been formed so he moves along with it.

Matoba Seiji is arguing about aquarium dimensions at the counter.

"So, will you take this one, sir?" He watches the cashier age ten years in real-time.

Natori himself is next in line and there is nowhere to retreat.

"Yes, thank you." Matoba side eyes him when he finally steps up to the counter and he is all but pinned to the floor.

Natori Shuuichi can't help the sneaking suspicion that his day off won't be a day off anymore.

—

Once they're outside, Matoba generously offers the use of the trolley he's borrowed for Natori's bag of birdseed.

Natori relents.

The look Matoba fixes him with is innocently curious—the one he makes when it comes to potentially finding out something about his contemporaries.

So rather, it's carefully cunning.

"It's for birds," he blurts out inelegantly.

Matoba's expression morphs into bemusement and mild alarm. "Well, I should hope so, Shuuichi-san."

And so, as it always goes with Matoba, he feels the need to explain himself further.

It had started one morning with his half-finished breakfast. His last piece of toast had been spirited away before he could blink. The sparrow had glared at him in such a way that Natori had felt abashed.

Tossing a preemptive handful of crumbs before breakfast had turned into an investment of a bird feeder and birdseed. His elderly neighbor who shared his balcony space had turned up at his front door one morning.

"I find that they like these!" Natori had hurried to relieve her of the bag of birdseed that was more than half her height.

"So they'll grow big and strong," Tachibana-san had beamed.

While he ensured the safety of his future toast, the little bit of wildlife really was a respite in the city. He had found Hiiragi admiring them through the window on more than one occasion.

In fact, it had been Hiiragi who had sent him out this morning.

"They don't like this kind." They had run out of the usual brand. She was quietly devastated and Natori could not abide that, so he'd set off on his mission.

Of course, his luck had landed him in the same pet shop as Matoba Seiji.

"How sweet, Shuuichi-san.” Matoba is fighting a smile.

"I am." Natori lifts his chin and is pleased.

Matoba Seiji cuts a severe figure against the haze of the summer day. All harsh lines with his tailored suit and perfect posture. Natori would reckon that he was previously with a client. Or on the way to one? Either way, Matoba doesn't seem to be about to volunteer any information. Least of all about the fish tank.

So when he stops abruptly, Natori crashes into him and then knocks his shin sharply against the trolley.

"Shuuichi-san." He turns to him with a one-eyed stare.

"What." He rubs sullenly at his leg.

"I need to catch a fish."

"…What."

”Would you help me?"

It is with this plea and the look on Matoba's face—one that would sooner be seen on a basset hound—that Natori finally, officially, forfeits the rest of his day off.

—

There is a fish in the river.

This particular fish has been terrorizing the waterfowl and fauna. Growing at an alarming rate, it is poised to singlehandedly (fin-edly?) wreak havoc on the local ecosystem.

“Big. This big.” Matoba had held his hands apart, adjusting after a moment. “Well, thereabouts.”

Natori raised an eyebrow. “Very descriptive.”

”My informants were, yes.” Matoba said solemnly.

You’re being oddly cryptic, Seiji, Natori thinks.

“That’s about all they knew.”

Oh. Guess he said that aloud then.

And time is of the essence, apparently.

It wouldn’t be long before larger things were on the menu. The local poodle. The local poodle’s owner. That kind of thing. Natori makes a face.

”It’s not unimaginable,” Matoba says.

”I never said it was. Just improbable.”

”It’s not like you to lack imagination, Shuuichi-san.” A sliver of a smile.

“That is not something I’d like to imagine.”

“Me neither.”

—

Spells are out of the question for now.

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

”As you’d like.”

Water is difficult. The smallest ripple can and will push spiritual energy off course, disabling and dissolving a spell entirely. Forget about a river.

Conversely, if he were to believe the rumors he’s heard, if you have patience in spades, it is possible to work the ebbs and flows to your favor. Just a bit. Because ultimately, Nature has no qualms for your efforts.

Natori himself has a day job and finds solid ground preferable.

—

Currently, they are seated upon the bank, Matoba reinforcing his fish tank with pieces of spell paper.

”If only that kitty cat was here.” Natori smiles at the frown he can hear in Matoba’s voice.

“Natsume’s? He’s very conditional. I doubt you could afford his starting fee. Plus…” Natori lies back in the grass, catching sight of Matoba’s consternation in full. “For you, he’d probably refuse on principle.”

With a huff, Matoba returns to his seals.

After a while, Natori fidgets with the need to do something.

When he impulsively begins rolling up his pant legs, Matoba blinks up at him in surprise.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

”Well…”

“Exactly.”

Natori doesn’t miss how Matoba glances down at his left leg.

“Seiji.” The other man startles. “If this is it, promise me that you’ll finish me off.”

With that, he steps carefully down the bank.

And it’s true. Monster fish claims exorcist’s cursed left leg. Natori shudders. Even he is under no illusion that he would be able to live that down.

.

Is it really summer? Natori hadn’t been able to hold back a yelp when he’d stepped into the river.

“Something the matter?” Matoba calls from behind him.

“Oh, s’just fine.” Natori just barely keeps the chattering tremble from his voice. “Just lovely.”

You brought this upon yourself. A voice in the back of his mind chides. It almost sounds like Hiiragi.

I wouldn’t wish this upon my worst enemy!

”Is it cold?” Natori turns with a beatific smile. Sparkles too, surely Matoba can’t be immune.

“Not at all. Come on in.” Matoba watches him warily, starting to back away.

Oh no.

It is on.

“You get in here!”

—

It is only once they have both been thoroughly soaked and have started to dry out on the bank that Natori starts thinking about poetry.

Because there is something of the sort at work here. An expanse of unfamiliar ground that they find themselves navigating together again.

Contrary to what one might think, Natori Shuuichi is not against poetic justice. The fluffy kind that his acting allows him to indulge in is the best fun. And the fact that it helps pay the bills doesn’t hurt either.

Then there are the ancient grudges and blood oaths he encounters in exorcist work that are all too real. But that’s kind of exciting in its own right.

And whatever he and Seiji have going on. Natori’s not blind. More… willfully ignorant. Ever trying for blissfully obtuse.

For today, Natori is not going to be the one to point it out. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.

The clouds are that wispy kind, all gossamer and lace, combed out against the blue of the sky above.

It is all too easy to let his eyes drift closed. His dreams are full of poetry.

—

“Surely this is not how you operate nowadays, Shuuichi-san.” Shuuichi wakes up to find Seiji peering down at him.

“Only on my days off.”

“Oh. I apologize for that.”

“S’not a big deal.” Shuuichi stretches, feeling surprisingly refreshed. “Have you seen our fishy friend?”

Seiji shakes his head. “That’s why I woke you up.”

“What?”

“We’re going to buy bait.”

.

Bait is an assortment of sandwiches from a nearby convenience store. Two of them are for Shuuichi and Seiji. One is for the fish.

The sandwich does the trick.

—

And it has teeth.

Several rows, like a goddamn shark. Shuuichi knows this because he has the fishy fiend by the tail, an arm’s length away. What good that does him is anybody’s guess, the creature is a good deal longer. That leaves him with one arm to keep its jaws as far away from his person as he can.

A burst of panic had made quick work of the restraints they’d managed to cast.

“You want this thing alive?” Shuuichi staggers back, thrown by the yokai’s frantic thrashing. The spell circle they’d set up as a last resort is a tempting thing.

“If you can manage to keep it like that,” Seiji calls over his shoulder, with a lilt of challenge. He’s making last minute adjustments to the tank.

Shuuichi proceeds to exhaust every curse he knows and then some as he attempts to keep the fishy devil from taking a chunk out of his hand.

—

When all is said and done, it is an impressive specimen of a fish.

Fans of fins sparkle with iridescence and its eyes glow cat-like.

Shuuichi almost feels bad, seeing it in its glass prison. Granted, he feels like that whenever he goes to a zoo or an aquarium. Of course, those animals have never tried to eat two of his fingers.

Yet the principle stands. So he is almost tempted to tip the tank and tell it to swim away as fast as it can.

Go on. Only if you apologize first. They make eye contact. A piece of Shuuichi’s shirt sleeve is still stuck in the fish’s jaws. It slurps the rest of it down before turning its tail to him. Ungrateful little brat.

—

“Hey, Mister! You caught it!” Shuuichi looks up to find two boys scrambling down the bank towards them. Dragging his heel through the last remnants of the spell circle, he watches them approach Seiji.

Seiji greets them with a pleasant smile. “Hello, again.”

The boys enthuse over the brooding behemoth at a safe distance.

“Oh yes, it put up quite a fight, but we managed.” Shuuichi rolls his eyes at the ‘we’.

They have placed bets on all manners of its features and now one boy owes the other a week’s worth of manjuu.

For some reason, Shuuichi feels his throat closing up.

“Dinner?” Seiji is saying. “No, actually this one’s going to be my pet.” He pats the tank. Absurdly, the fish seems to be enjoying the attention. It executes one lazy barrel roll.

The boys cheer.

Seiji turns to Shuuichi then, raising his eyebrows. “My informants,” he intones formally. The kids are amused.

Big. This big. Potential poodle devourer. It all makes sense. Shuuichi simpers internally.

He’ll spare Seiji today. Time for some Old Man and the Sea-esque regaling of their catch.

—

“Really? A pet?” Shuuichi asks. They’re waiting for Seiji’s car to come pick him and his new charge up.

“Maybe pet is a little generous. Rather… garbage disposal? And if it doesn’t work out…” Seiji gives a noncommittal shrug. Shuuichi shudders. Right. The Matoba are nothing if not resourceful.

“Don’t worry, Shuuichi-san, your efforts won’t go to waste.”

“The least I could ask for, I suppose,” Shuuichi sighs. He glances at the fish.

“It was nice.” Seiji watches him. “That you did that.”

“You know me, always a wellspring of goodwill.” His tone is light, a touch sardonic. The sentiment could float away to nothing. Shuuichi won’t let it.

“Yeah, you can be. Sometimes.”

Seiji doesn’t say anything. Shuuichi wonders what he’s thinking. But he won’t press that for now. Instead, he pursues the other thought nagging him.

“Do you think that they…” Shuuichi doesn’t know how to finish. At least Seiji gets the gist of it.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s grown powerful enough to be seen.”

Shuuichi considers that. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah… okay.”

There’s nothing more to say, so they don’t.

—

Seiji is surprised when Shuuichi takes him up his offer to drive him home.

The birdseed is settled next to the tank in the back and the fish snaps at the colorful bird pictured on the front of the bag, knocking its nose soundly against the glass.

The sound Shuuichi makes can only be described as a guffaw. Seiji quickly shoos him into the car, not wanting to further cement this vendetta between them.

Shuuichi promptly falls asleep.

And then maybe it’s not the best time, but when has Seiji ever really been good at that?

”Thanks for helping, Shuuichi-san.” His head falls onto Seiji’s shoulder and Seiji doesn’t have to hide his smile.

“I’m glad you were here.”

Seiji wonders what Shuuichi will say when he wakes up to find their hands laced together.

He doesn’t mind waiting to find out.

[camerica]

@sicariav​ asked:

He is teeth and fury, a beast wild and ravenous tearing his way through armor and defense alike.

     It’s brutal here. He learned that from day one. Don’t be a fish out of water, don’t offer your hand when someone stumbles, don’t wipe the blood from the Soldier’s brow and tell him he did a good job. This is expected. Anything less is a failure. Anything more is HYDRA.

     Still, he watches out of the corner of his eye, picks up on queues that tell him exactly where the fatal blow will land, how the spine will snap, which way the legs will buckle. In theory, of course. This is training after all. No one loses their life until hubris or sheer stupidity drive them to it.

     “Sign there, sir.” Sir around here feels a lot like spit in the face. It’s a damn good thing he doesn’t know these men. Won’t ever get to. And just to spite the asshole, he turns fully to watch the beast they created do the damn good work he was meant for. Funny how a single man can look so god awfully different in the span of a few years. Tugs right where the strings are.

     Never really noticed how vibrant the blue of Bucky’s eyes could be under a splash of crimson, either. The corners of his lips twitch downwards, brows knitting the longer he watches.

[ultrastupid]

My pinned post: Hello, my name is Echo! I come in relative peace. My dysgraphia will leave me making all sorts of typos, so be ready for that lol.

If you're curious about things like my queer labels, pronouns, names, and just what I have that makes me disabled and mentally ill, you can click here.

I have been on tumblr since 2011 originally, and have been using a secret account to follow and like and reblog posts that has no connection to me lmao, since about 2015. I guess I got tired of doing that and now I am here as myself.

Main fandoms are: No Straight Roads, Hellaverse (Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss), Welcome Home, Cult of the Lamb, and Steven Universe right now.

I am sir-swears-a-lot, just warning in case you don't like a lot of swearing! Also, sometimes I spam reblog from my mutuals or people I follow, just a warning!

Click/tap the read more for boundaries, my main tags (plus tags you can use for filtering if you have triggers, squicks, phobias, or just don't want to see me post about certain things!), and misc info!

I have a queue set up to post 12 posts per day, and I shuffle it 3 times after I get done adding more to it. The blog pretty much runs on it now. For my queue, I've started to focus on lining up non-political, non-discourse posts for a gentle stream.

LAST UPDATED: August 20th, 2024 (08/20/24)

I hate DNIs because they don't really work like at all. So instead, I will give you a rundown of things that I am, that I support, and that I don't support, and YOU, the VIEWER, can decide if you want to interact with me or not. Taken from my carrd, includes alt-text.

System-related stuff: Click here for more detailed info about my system! Below are tags that my alters use:

#💋eve

#🧸doll

#⚡zap

My main Ao3 is indeed my tumblr username. The real "social media" place that I use most is a mastodon instance, you can find that in my linktree on Ao3 if you're brave enough (and 18 years or older) lol. I am completely unfiltered on there, so be careful and stay safe!

Tags for reblogs (and maybe posts) in case you need to filter (not all tags are listed her btw):

#Q = Queued posts, aka what this blog runs on

#discourse tw = Most forms of discourse

#shipcourse tw = Ship discourse specifically

#ableism tw = Discourse, but ableism focused

#queerphobia tw = Discourse, but queerphobia/exclusionist focused

#racism tw = Discourse, but racism focused

#sexism tw = Discourse, but sexism focused

#current events tw = For (mostly USA) politics, wars, genocides

#traumacore tw = Traumacore/ventcore related things

#mental health tw = Mostly dark humor relating to mental health

#abuse tw = Mentions of abuse (relationships, child, etc)

#drugs tw = Drugs and drug mentions (regardless of use purpose)

#rapid switching images tw = Rapid switching images (for epilepsy)

#flashing lights tw = Flashing lights (for epilepsy)

#shaking images tw = Rapidly shaking images (for epilepsy)

#eyestrain tw = Bright colors, optical illusions

#loud sound tw = Loud audio, typically sudden

#ai tw = AI-generated images/video/whatever else

#insect tw = Any bug or bug-like thing, so spiders included

#sea creature tw = Fish, sea creatures (seaslugs, octopus, etc)

#rodent tw = Rodents (rats, mice, squirrels, etc)

#bird tw = Avians, flying or otherwise

#bat tw = Real/realistic bats

#reptile tw = Reptiles (snakes, lizards, etc)

#amphibian tw = Amphibians (Frogs, salamanders, etc)

#dog tw = Canines in general, so yes wolves are included

#horror tw = General horror tag (body, psychological, etc)

#trypophobia tw = Clusters of holes

#scopophobia tw = Eyes that are staring

#dead dove tw = The "typical" problematic themes

#gore tw = Gore, guro, etc, lots of blood here

#nsft tw = "Not safe for tumblr", aka nsfw or suggestive stuff

#PSA = For important stuff. Tends to have other TW tags on it too!

#mutual aid = Mutual aid reblogs, self-explanatory

#polls = Polls, both ones still going or done

#the dream = An eclectic tag that can mean many things tbh

#reblog bait tw = Stuff that can be considered "reblog bait"

#AOE = Psychic AOE damage (aka cursed, usually NSFT posts)

#resources = Resources for things, usually fandom or helpful

Specific fandom tags I use because I am too scared of getting dogpiled while using main fandom tags:

#En Es Ar = NSR (No Straight Roads) #Double U Aitch = WH (Welcome Home) #Aitch Aitch = HH (Hazbin Hotel) #Aitch Bee = HB (Helluva Boss) #Sea Oh Tee El = COTL (Cult of the Lamb)

Tags for my own purpose, typically text posts I make.

#burntembers.txt is my tag for text posts or general rambles and general stuff. Will use this a lot when making text posts!

#warmembers.txt is for nsfw rambles/talk, maybe some links to Ao3 stories if I'm feeling brave haha.

#sparkingembers.txt is for ranting/rambling about disabilities, mental illnesses/disorders, and general neurodivergent shit.

#moltenembers.txt is for fandom related talk/content. Typically me blabbing about headcanons and general deranged shit lmao.

#snuffedembers.txt is for ranting/rambling, discourse related things, and general venting. Because why not, why not?

[goblogger]

Exploring Singapore from the Water: A Comprehensive Guide to the Singapore River Cruise

Singapore, a city-state renowned for its futuristic skyline, lush green spaces, and vibrant culture, offers a myriad of ways to explore its beauty. One of the most enchanting ways to experience this dynamic city is by embarking on a Singapore River Cruise. This unique journey along the iconic Singapore River provides a different perspective of the city’s landmarks, blending historical charm with modern marvels. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll delve into everything you need to know about the Singapore River Cruise, including the best time for Singapore River Cruise, the sights you’ll see, and how to make the most of your experience.

Understanding the Singapore River Cruise

The Singapore River Cruise is a popular sightseeing tour that takes you along the Singapore River, which meanders through the heart of the city. This cruise offers a scenic and relaxing way to explore the city’s landmarks, historical sites, and architectural wonders. As you glide along the river, you’ll gain insight into Singapore’s transformation from a humble fishing village into a global metropolis.

The Best Time for Singapore River Cruise

When planning your Singapore River Cruise, timing can significantly impact your experience. Singapore’s climate is typically hot and humid year-round, so choosing the best time for your cruise can enhance your enjoyment.

**1. Weather Considerations

The Singapore River Cruise is enjoyable throughout the year, but the weather can affect your experience. The city experiences two main monsoon seasons: the Northeast Monsoon (December to early March) and the Southwest Monsoon (June to September). During these periods, occasional rain showers and high humidity are common.

**2. Best Time of Day

To make the most of your Singapore River Cruise, consider taking the tour either in the morning or evening. Morning cruises offer a peaceful start to the day and provide a chance to see the city as it awakens. Evening cruises, on the other hand, offer a spectacular view of Singapore’s skyline illuminated by lights. The vibrant colors of the cityscape against the backdrop of a setting sun create a picturesque scene.

**3. Avoiding Peak Tourist Seasons

Singapore experiences peak tourist seasons during school holidays and major festivals such as Chinese New Year and the Great Singapore Sale. To avoid large crowds and long queues, plan your river cruise during off-peak periods. Weekdays and early mornings are generally less crowded, providing a more serene experience.

What to Expect on the Singapore River Cruise

The Singapore River Cruise typically lasts around 40 to 60 minutes, depending on the package you choose. Here’s a glimpse of what you can expect during this delightful journey:

**1. Historical Landmarks

As you cruise along the Singapore River, you’ll pass by several historical landmarks that narrate the city’s rich history. Key sites include:

Clarke Quay: A vibrant riverside quay known for its historic shophouses and bustling nightlife. It’s a popular spot for dining and entertainment, with a blend of colonial and modern architecture.

Boat Quay: A historic waterfront area that was once the center of Singapore’s trading activities. Today, it’s home to a mix of heritage buildings and contemporary dining establishments.

Raffles Landing Site: This iconic location marks the spot where Sir Stamford Raffles, the founder of modern Singapore, is believed to have landed in 1819. The statue of Raffles at this site commemorates his role in Singapore’s history.

**2. Architectural Marvels

The Singapore River Cruise offers stunning views of some of the city’s most impressive architectural feats, including:

Marina Bay Sands: A striking integrated resort with a distinctive three-towered design and an iconic rooftop infinity pool. The cruise provides excellent views of this landmark from the water.

The Esplanade – Theatres on the Bay: Often referred to as “The Durian” due to its spiky exterior, this performing arts center is an architectural marvel and a focal point of Singapore’s cultural scene.

The Fullerton Hotel: A grand colonial building that once served as Singapore’s General Post Office. The Fullerton Hotel is now a luxurious hotel that retains its historical charm.

**3. Cultural Insights

During the cruise, you’ll gain insights into Singapore’s cultural heritage and transformation. Many cruises offer guided commentary or audio guides that provide information about the landmarks and the city’s history. This enriches your understanding of the places you see and adds a layer of depth to the experience.

Booking Your Singapore River Cruise

Booking your Singapore River Cruise can be done through various channels, including online travel platforms, hotel concierge services, and local tour operators. Here are some tips for booking:

**1. Choose the Right Cruise Package

Several types of river cruise packages are available, ranging from standard sightseeing tours to premium experiences with added amenities. Consider what interests you most and choose a package that suits your preferences. Some cruises offer dinner options, which can add a special touch to your experience.

**2. Book in Advance

While it’s possible to book tickets on the day of the cruise, booking in advance is recommended, especially during peak tourist seasons. Advanced bookings ensure you secure your preferred time slot and avoid disappointment.

**3. Check for Deals and Discounts

Look for deals and discounts when booking your cruise. Many travel websites and tour operators offer promotional rates or bundle deals that can enhance your overall experience.

Tips for an Enjoyable Singapore River Cruise

To make the most of your Singapore River Cruise, consider these tips:

**1. Dress Comfortably

Wear lightweight, breathable clothing to stay comfortable in Singapore’s warm and humid climate. A hat and sunglasses can provide extra protection from the sun.

**2. Bring a Camera

Don’t forget your camera or smartphone to capture the stunning views and memorable moments during the cruise. The skyline, landmarks, and reflections on the water provide excellent photo opportunities.

**3. Stay Hydrated

Keep a bottle of water with you to stay hydrated, especially if you’re taking a morning cruise or during the hotter parts of the day.

**4. Arrive Early

Arrive a bit early to check in and find a good spot on the boat. This ensures you have time to settle in and enjoy the cruise without feeling rushed.

Conclusion

The Singapore River Cruise offers a captivating way to explore the city’s historical and architectural wonders. Whether you’re a first-time visitor or a seasoned traveler, this cruise provides a unique perspective of Singapore’s dynamic landscape. By choosing the best time for your Singapore River Cruise and following our tips for an enjoyable experience, you’ll be set for a memorable journey through one of Asia’s most exciting cities. Embrace the charm of Singapore from the water and create lasting memories on this unforgettable adventure.

[littlerequiem]

— cause i'm a mastermind ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x f!reader

Levi has had enough of holding back from you.  He’s played this Game of cat-and-mouse for far too long. It all started the moment he met you—when you spoke to him with snark and mischief—and tonight, oh tonight, he puts an end to it.

CONTENT — Rated E - Alternate Universe - Modern AU, Swearing, Alcohol, Consensual Sex, Hotel Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Mutual Pining, Levi’s POV, Sub!Levi undertones (wc: 5.5k).

Thanks to @stellar-smth for BETA reading this.

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi has had enough of holding back from you.

He’s played this Game of cat-and-mouse for far too long. It started the moment he met you—when you spoke to him with snark and mischief—and tonight, oh tonight, he puts an end to it.

And it’s all your fault.

There you are, looking like a goddamn masterpiece, wearing that silk green dress that hugs every curve of your body, the rich fabric draping your breasts and ass just right.

And all the while, you stare at him from across the golden room, a lopsided smirk adorned on your face. You bring a flute of champagne to your lips, never once breaking eye contact with him.

Fuck.

“Levi, did you hear what I said?” Erwin asks, his familiar husky voice calling Levi back to reality. Levi scowls and turns towards his colleague. He finds Erwin’s intense blue eyes on him as the man takes a sip of his whiskey.

“I... no. Can you repeat?” Levi mutters as he downs his own drink—a Moscow mule, the least worst option out of the drinks available in this hotel lobby.

Erwin cocks an eyebrow, gazing at Levi curiously. “I wanted to hear your input about the plans to expand to the APAC region next year. It seems like an astute decision from the board, given the margins we saw this year.”

“Mm.” But Levi doesn’t want to discuss the strategic importance of the Asian-Pacific countries in the expansion of this company. In fact, that’s about the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Levi, what’s going on?” Erwin probes, tentatively poking the bear that is Levi’s frustrating lack of getting laid. Or perhaps, to be more precise, the fact that he hasn’t been able to have you.

“Erwin, I need a minute,” Levi interrupts.

“Evidently,” Erwin answers with a hum, taking a sip of his drink as he stares at Levi with quiet curiosity.

“I’ll be back,” Levi insists.

“And I’ll be here, once you get whatever is riling you up out of your system,” Erwin says, amusement laced in his tone.

Levi opens his mouth to answer, only to close it again. Whatever. Levi doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

Levi has bigger fish to fry.

And so, he pivots on his heels, walking across the room with determination in his stride. But he doesn’t simply approach you. He’s not a total idiot, after all—that would be a little too obvious, a little too desperate.

Instead, he heads to the bar, deciding to go for a pick-me-up first. A crowd of people are already gathered to order their drinks, and he takes his place in the queue, refusing to gaze in your direction again.

Just as he gets to the front of the line, drumming three fingers on the table impatiently, one of the barkeepers approaches him proactively.

But not to take Levi’s order.

“A Sex on the Beach, Sir. On the house,” the barkeeper tells him, handing him one of the most fluorescent orange drinks Levi has ever seen. It looks absolutely ridiculous.

“I didn’t order this shit,” Levi says dryly.

“It’s from the young lady over there. She sends her regards,” the barkeeper explains, sounding confused as he gestures to the other side of the bar. Levi turns his attention to where the barkeeper pointed, meeting your fluttering eyes as you twirl a strand of hair around that pretty finger of yours.

Oh, of course.

Cursing under his breath, Levi grabs the outlandish cocktail and makes his way across the crowd.

As Levi comes closer to you, your movements seem to mirror his approach, placing an elbow on the bar and leaning your cheek against your raised palm. By the time he stands in front of you, you are fully facing him—conveniently giving him the perfect angle to your cleavage.

You little minx.

Levi makes a point not to stare at your breasts, because he isn’t some pervert, thank you very much. Even though you’re doing a hell of a job to break his resolve, he doesn’t intend to make a complete fool of himself tonight.

“You. A word,” he snaps, trying to ignore the warmth pooling below his stomach, quiet excitement simmering in his veins.

“A word? Why, what could I possibly have done to warrant the privilege, Mr. Ackerman?” you ask as you take an innocent sip of champagne, smirking against the brim of the glass.

“Don’t play smart with me. You ordered this drink knowing full well I don’t drink this shit,” he mutters, gesturing to the cocktail in his hand.

“Oh, come now, I thought you would enjoy it. It matches your lack of a personality,” you answer with a devious grin. He narrows his eyes at you, but already, you continue, “I was just looking to repay the attention. I’ve noticed you staring at me all night.”

Levi stays silent, hating to be put on the spot. He’s thankful for the dimness of the room, which conceals the blush creeping up his neck and ears.

“You keep staring at me,” he answers with a low voice.

“I have, haven’t I? Mm, I just feel that the air tonight is, ah, how to say? Electric?” you murmur with twinkling eyes. “Almost like a musical crescendo, wouldn’t you say?”

“I couldn’t say,” Levi answers, taking a sip of the horrendous drink you ordered. His face sours instantly—it’s way too fruity.

His reaction to the abysmal cocktail makes you chuckle, your hand shooting up to hide your amusement.

“Now the real question,” you begin with a sultry tone, taking a furtive step towards him, “what are you going to do about it?”

Levi’s ears are ringing, his body suddenly too hot. He gulps, trying to ignore the twitching in his pants, the way his heart lurches in his chest. He keeps a steady facade of indifference, refusing to let you on any of his emotions.

“I see, still a man of few words,” you say as you finish your drink, tilting your head curiously.

“You’re such a pest,” he says. That statement is kind—there’s a whole range of vocabulary Levi could use to describe your constant nagging. But Levi is keeping it classy tonight. “I can’t believe I’ve put up with you this long.”

“I have a feeling there’s a lot of things you’re needing to get off your chest,” you point out, taking a step back. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more… private to discuss this?”

And without waiting on his reply, you eclipse yourself away from the bar, your heels clicking across the marble floor. You exit the hotel lobby—smugly confident that Levi will follow.

The way you highlighted the word private isn’t lost on Levi and neither is it lost on his cock, which twitches in his pants.

Levi clears his throat, looking around once, and takes one last sip of this ridiculous drink. Then, he follows you.

Neither of you makes any sort of trivial chit-chat on the way to finding this heaven of privacy. In fact, Levi doesn’t even walk next to you, trailing behind you like an animal tracking its prey, admiring the angle the view provides. Your backless dress gives him an advantageous glimpse of your bare back—your hips moving sensually with every step you take down the dark corridor of this five-star hotel.

It’s like you both know, both understand that tonight is the night to end the Game. All these months of banter, of lingering gazes, of choke-holding tension… all this back and forth ends now.

Levi doesn't even realize where you’re taking him, too absorbed in your sumptuous derrière, when he finds himself entering a hotel room. Your bedroom for the night, no doubt. His own hotel room looks similar, though less luxurious—you’ve got at least double the amount of space.

When he looks up, he finds you staring at him curiously from the middle of the room. He closes the door behind him and stays put, looking at you like a scientist looks at an experiment: gauging your facial expressions, analyzing your body language and trying to understand what will be your next move.

“Like the view?” you ask casually, turning your head in a way that Levi can admire your side profile. “I convinced the manager to upgrade me to a Junior Suite. These rooms face east.”

You point at the large windows which provide a glimpse into the city at night—a constellation of lights draping the velvet sky.

But while Levi can certainly agree to liking the view, it isn’t the landscape that captivates him.

It’s you.

And fuck, are you ravishing.

“Now, where were we?” you say, turning back to him and crossing your arms over your chest. “Ah, yes, you were about to get something off your chest.”

His eyes flicker to your mischievous face, scrutinizing every facet of your features—admiring the flames in your eyes, the shape of your nose, the shadows dancing on your face, and finally… your lips.

Your lips which have long haunted him; your lips, which have been the subject of his daydreams at work; your lips, which now seem so tender, so soft, and so inviting.

Levi wonders if they taste like champagne.

“Tell me, have you dreamed about this moment before?” you murmur quietly with roving eyes, as if devouring the sight of him. “I have, you know. I’ve thought about the way this would go many times.”

Levi sucks in a breath. His palms are clammy, fingers twitching nervously, and it takes effort to not let it show.

Good grief, he’s nervous.

The truth is, Levi’s not good at this, whatever this is. Levi simply isn’t someone who goes around chasing skirts. Hell, he’s not someone who’s particularly sexual for that matter.

But perhaps you know this too, the way you look at him now with a knowing look, a strange softness behind your eyes that makes Levi’s heart race.

“I have,” Levi manages to admit, hating himself for sounding so desperate.

“Do any of the fantasies include this?” You take a step forward, just a breath away from him.

“Yes,” he confesses.

Now that you’re closer to him (but still not touching him, to Levi’s great frustration!), Levi can smell your alluring perfume—cherries and cognac clinging to his nostrils—making his brain dizzy with desire.

Your fragrance is like branding iron, imprinted in his brain. How many times did the ghost of your scent cause night upon night of frustrating hand jobs?

“What else?” you wonder, lifting a finger and grazing the collar of his suit, leaving behind a dizzying trail of touches.

Fuck, do you expect him to spell it out?

“This too. Your touch,” he murmurs.

“Oh my, my finger tickling you? How scandalous,” you add sarcastically.

Levi could bite your ear off if he wasn’t so turned on already.

His hand jerks up, grabbing your wrist in one movement and placing it firmly against his chest, right on his heart. “Stop teasing me already, woman.”

Don’t you see, goddammit? Don’t you see how much he wants this?

You chuckle. “Tut-tut, always so crude, Ackerman,” you murmur, lips twitching. “But well, I suppose that it’s made for some amusing banter at work, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he answers with pressed lips, remembering all the times you would tease him, the way you played with your lips while he presented his presentation—always trying to distract him.

How he wished to kiss you then, to fuck you at that conference room table that overlooks the city.

“Well then, if you’re not going to tell me what it is I want to know… why don’t you show me?” you suggest, interlacing your fingers together.

Levi holds your gaze just a while longer, seeing the trepidation behind your stare, the way your eyelashes flutter. He realizes how much you want this too, despite still playing so coy around him.

Always the Game with you, even now.

But Levi obliges you all the same—he’s always had a soft spot for your antics, after all—and he finally caves in.

His lips crash down on yours.

And Levi realizes he was right: you do taste like champagne—fresh and exquisite.

The kiss starts off wet and soft—your tongue playfully teasing him as his hands settle on your waist. Slowly, one of your hands moves up to grip the back of his neck, fingers grazing his undercut delicately.

These feather-like touches leave him wanting more—so much more.

Levi takes a step forward as he grips your body tightly, pushing you back so that your back stands firm against the walls. Levi’s hands then start to explore, at first caressing your hips softly and then moving up, admiring the dip between your ribcage and your waist, the arc of your back. So delicate, so warm.

How long has he craved to feel you like this?

“Mm,” you breathe out, seemingly relishing in his touch. This verbal praise only seems to ignite Levi further and he can’t help but groan into your kiss.

He’s apparently not the only one who feels this buildup of desire because moments later, he feels one of his hands being stirred by your own, guiding it to your chest. There, you lay his palm flush, angling your body towards him. Levi cups one of your breasts, feeling your nipple harden under the fabric of your dress.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The things you do to me…”

A confession, said in the peak of the night. Usually, Levi wouldn’t be caught admitting moony shit like this, but this, right now, feels like the moment to say things that wouldn’t be said otherwise.

He breaks the kiss, watching you with a slanted stare. For once, you don’t seem to have a witty reply to say to him, all dark eyes and swollen lips, appearing to be in as much of a daze as he is.

Levi leans forward again, this time with steady and meticulous movements, basking in the cherry hints of your perfume. He can feel your hot breath on his cheeks, the way you’ve stopped moving, as if assessing him. Slowly, he begins to trail kisses down the exposed column of your throat, all the while kneading one of your breasts gently. His palm moves aside the fabric of your dress, the tips of his fingers grazing the delicate skin of your nipple.

Levi bathes in your little sighs, causing a delirious amount of desire to swell up. One of your legs bends and presses against his hip, reeling hard against him. Instinctively, his free hand reaches down, cupping the curve of your ass between his pleading fingers.

Goddamn does he love your ass.

Levi’s breath turns ragged, fingers digging in the flesh of your bucked hips, his lips nuzzling against the vein on your neck. You moan, and he moves his other hand from your breast to your face, pushing your hair back to expose more of you. There, he lays his desires bare, tasting your skin in an incoherent mixture of lewd noises and wet kisses.

“Fuck,” he growls against your skin, his cheeks tingling as you caress his face tenderly. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea of this, silly,” you tell him in between ragged gasps.

Levi huffs in response, placing one of his knees in between your two legs in the hopes to silence your wits. But as you begin to grind against his limb with so much desire that makes his head spin, Levi thinks you must be some sort of mystical nymph.

He wonders how wet you are, under all those layers.

At the thought, Levi’s cock throbs, almost painfully so.

Finally, he’s had enough of this—because isn’t this all again just part of the Game, an anticipation of everything still? He bends down, lifting you with ease, and hitches your legs around his waist.

You make a sound that’s akin to surprise and tighten your hold around his back, heels digging into his spine as your fingers tug into his hair fiercely.

Levi takes a few steps across the room and lays you down on the king-sized bed like a precious thing, fully intending to take his time to marvel at you.

But you have another idea altogether. As Levi leans back to look at you, you grab his tie, keeping him firmly in place. You give him your most lecherous gaze, a sight that could make Levi get on his knees and beg.

“You still haven’t told me what it is you want to do with me,” you point out, all cheek-and-smile.

Levi’s jaw clenches.

“Isn’t it clear?” he says flatly, looking at you from under dark lashes, admiring the way your chest rises and falls—cheeks glowing from the dim lights and lips glistening from his kisses.

“Afraid not. You’re going to have to spell it out for me, sweetheart,” you tell him pointedly, a devious grin on your face.

“What is this, a fucking elevator pitch?” Levi mutters back.

“C’mon, Ackerman. You’re a big boy. Tell me what you want,” you tell him again, grabbing his hand and placing it on your cheek.

Fuck, when you say it like that…

“I… I want you,” he snaps, the painful humiliation of being put on the spot making him crumble. “I want to feel all of you.”

He sees your face, the way it settles into a quiet smile of understanding. “Well done.”

The praise makes him shudder. He closes his eyes for a moment and leans forward.

“May I?” he asks with a half-lidded stare.

“Oh, you certainly may.”

And then Levi looms over you, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and all the way to your chest. There, he delicately removes one sleeve of your dress, exposing one breast in the process.

And Levi shows you the meaning of worship.

With his hands on your hips, his mouth kisses your nipples with every fiber of his body, his tongue nibbling and teasing and flicking. Your skin tastes divine, the flavor reminding him of the salted caramel lattes you drink every morning in the cafeteria—rich and mouthwatering. He always made fun of you for your choice of beverages, but oh, right here, he realizes he may have a taste for it after all.

Your back arcs as his kisses turn more arduous and his teeth dig into the sensitive skin around your nipple, leaving it swollen and wanton. Instinctively, one of your legs bucks and moves between his own, finding his erection throbbing for you—needing you more than ever.

“Ah,” you breathe out in a series of moans. “You’re so hard for me already, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off,” he hums against the nipple in his mouth. He pulls back to fully glare at you, a thread of saliva dripping down his mouth. Disgusted at himself, Levi quickly rubs it away with the back of his hand, a scowl on his face.

“Ah, ah, that won’t do. Let a lady enjoy the sight of you,” you answer, raising a tender hand to cup Levi’s cheek, burying one thumb in his mouth. Levi can only groan in response, the perverted way your digit fucks his mouth and the sight of you—half-naked with a glistening tit—leaving him shattered for more.

Moments later, you take your wet hand out of his mouth and tilt your head, your body twisting on the mattress. “All good things come to those who wait.”

But isn’t that what you’ve both been doing all those months? Waiting? Playing the Game?

Levi decides he’s had enough of waiting for a lifetime—he’s shown the patience of a saint with the way he contained his desires.

Now, Levi wants to take it all.

And Levi will start his taking by making you come undone for him.

Levi moves over you like a goddamn predator, pulling away from you slowly and deliberately. As soon as his feet land on the carpet floor of the room, he kneels down, taking one of your bare calves in his hand and gently caressing your soft skin with his digits. All the while, he removes his shoes with his free hand, not even bothering to look where they land. Then, he undoes your heels, feeling very much like Prince Charming removing Cinderella’s shoes—or wait, didn’t that story end differently? Levi can’t think straight.

“You haven’t got a foot fetish, do you?” You laugh from above, your voice carrying over like glazed honey, causing goosebumps to trail all over his skin.

“Tch, no.” Levi clicks his tongue impatiently. “But it’s fucking filthy to wear your shoes in bed. Even for sex.”

“A clean freak even in bed. Shocking.”

Your tone of sarcasm isn’t lost on Levi.

“You always have to have a smart-ass answer to everything, don’t you?” Levi’s mouth begins to lather your calves with kisses. “Fucking annoying.”

Levi doesn’t add what he wants to say: that your answers have haunted him endlessly, that your voice plagues his dreams.

“That’s because I’m smart, Ackerman,” you answer. “And speaking of annoying, you really should tame that mouth of yours. I never resort to cursing to get my point across.”

“You will be cursing once I’m done with you,” he promises you.

Levi continues to bestow siphons of touches with his lips, sweeping your skin with conviction, all the while tugging at your underwear and slowly removing it. As he reaches the sensitive skin around the upper part of your knees, you inhale sharply, pressing your thighs together and squirming in his grasp.

Levi smirks against your skin and pins one of your legs down. Then, using his tongue and teeth, he starts to nuzzle the oh-so-delicate flesh of your right thigh. When he hears your little noises of approval, he moves to nibbling, carefully carving out little bruises that will no doubt linger tomorrow.

“Are you marking me, Ackerman?”

“Is that alright?”

“Oh, certainly.”

Levi just sucks harder in response, a wildness to him that feels almost out of character. But Levi doesn’t care, he loves the way you tremble under his touch.

Soon enough, your legs spread with shakiness and he continues to go up and up...

“Ackerman, you sure know how to tease a lady,” you mutter with a ragged breath.

“You’re still talking. Clearly, I haven’t done enough,” Levi rasps as he looks over your dripping cunt. He can feel the heat of his breath on your sex.

And then, Levi grabs your legs and Levi buries himself in you.

The reaction is immediate. Like a loose rope snapping, the electric synergy in the air seems to explode, deep yearning shooting up in Levi’s body as your legs buck and squeeze his face.

Levi is nothing but meticulous when it comes to showing you the meaning of worship, and he gets to work. His tongue darts out to explore your folds, all the while digging his nails into the flesh of your ass, his hands pulling you closer to him.

He’s dreamed of this so many times, but this, this right here… it feels even more intoxicating than his wildest imaginations—tasting you in all your glory.

As Levi’s tongue slides against your cunt, he starts to create little sucking motions with his mouth, learning where to find your deepest points of desires. When he hears your uneven breathing turn into erotic moans—mumbling incoherent words and finally cursing with that goddamn filthy mouth of yours—Levi knows he’s on the right path. He smirks and buries himself further into you.

Soon, your moans grow more arduous, and Levi pulls one of his hands back to his side, slowly trailing one finger against your inner thigh. Positioning his elbow into the soft mattress, he inches his fingers higher, finding heat at your center.

As one of his fingers enters you, the tremor of your voice reverberates against Levi’s lips. You begin to let out what Levi can only describe as deeply lewd noises—it’s about the most enchanting thing Levi has ever heard.

With his mouth still on your clit, Levi runs a finger into your core, curling it delicately towards your pelvis. There, he starts to pump back and forth, slick and smoldering movements.

“More?” he asks roughly.

“Fuck… yes.” Your voice has gone up an octave. It only makes Levi want you more, his cock twitching and groaning for attention.

But Levi isn’t done with you yet. Oh no, he wants you to squeeze and come completely undone for him—for him to finally have the pleasure to whip that smirk off your face.

And so, Levi slides a second finger in, his movements faster and rougher. The pad of his thumb teases while his tongue continues to flick your clit, responding to your hips bulking and asking for more.

You come undone moments later, your tights squeezing his face, your hands shooting up to fist his hair in a desperate attempt to hold him through your orgasm. Levi basks in your sweet and musky wetness, admiring the way your whole body convulses and curls in itself.

He lifts his eyes to look at you and he watches the way your face looks as you ride through the waves of your orgasm—the desire in your blown-out pupils, your lips biting down a moan, the trembling of your eyelashes.

And what a fucking sight it is to behold. Levi could frame it in a museum, just for himself.

When your orgasm seems to subside and you let out a content sigh, Levi stands, looming over you with a stormy stare, cleaning his fingers with his handkerchief. The look of you, sprawled out post-orgasm on the fluffy duvet—your silk dress still hugging your curves effortlessly—makes him groan with desire.

Levi’s patience is growing thin.

He wants to know what it feels like to be inside you.

You seem to notice the almost predatory movements of Levi as he towers darkly over you, his fingers digging into the pillow around your head, his knees trapping the rest of your body in a cage. Gone is the amused smirk from earlier, now there is only primal hunger.

Levi needs you to know the torment you’ve caused him.

“Fuck, you’re so…” Levi mutters raspily, desperation clinging to his words as he feels his erection go hard as wood, “...breathtaking.”

With a mischievous gleam in your eyes, you push yourself up with your elbow.

Like two powers clashing together, you seem to have an almost visceral ability to control him, sliding your legs up and falling to your knees in front of him. There, you kneel as equals, your half-lidded stare on him as you chuck away his tie, his jacket, his waistcoat and finally, his white shirt.

With his chest now laying bare in front of you, your eyes rove over his upper body, one finger trailing patterns over his porcelain skin. Levi swallows, hands coming to rest on your hips. As you tug at the belt on his pants, his heartbeat jolts.

“It’s unfair, really, all this fabric,” you murmur into his ear. “So much pretense. What do you say if we just… remove it all?”

Well, Levi certainly can’t argue with that logic. His nails dig into the fabric of your silk dress as you pull him into a languish kiss, smiling against his mouth as you move to fumble with the buckle of his belt. Not wanting to lose more time, Levi breaks the kiss with a groan and moves off the bed to peel off his pants.

In one swift movement, Levi is naked in front of you, his erection on full display for you to ogle, pre-cum on the tip of his dick. Your eyes are methodical, fluttering as you give him a positively devilish look.

“Fuck, woman, stop staring at me like that…” Levi mutters, his cheeks burning.

“Then be a good boy and come claim me already.”

Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. He seizes your body with tight hands, helping you out of your dress with frightful speed. Now that you’re fully naked, his eyes take in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way the light and shadows mingle together to accentuate your curves.

Fucking beautiful.

Unable to contain his pent-up desire, Levi straddles you and pushes you down, kissing you torridly. With your back pressed into the mattress and limbs intertwined, he feels your fingers drag along the curves of his ass, sending thrilling shivers down his spine.

Levi’s length presses against your hot cunt as he watches you tremble under his touch. Pupils dilated and lips cooing paltry words he can’t make out, Levi thinks he’s been bewitched by the image of you. It’s maddening, the chokehold you have over him.

One of your hands trails down to seize his dick with so much conviction that Levi’s body lurches with ecstasy, and you spread open for him—watching him with a devious grin.

Levi feels his last ounce of restraint turn asunder.

Levi enters you with a groan, his mouth panting on the dip of your shoulder. His vision goes white as pleasure shoots up, the most wonderful sensation Levi has ever felt. The tips of his ears feel scorched, the rest of his body flushed.

And holy fucking shit, is it wonderful.

He feels your fingers dig into the flesh of his hips, pushing him deeper into your core. The simultaneous moan shatters Levi’s very essence. He rolls his hips, bursts of pleasure everywhere, your body embracing him like they were made for one another,

You’re so fucking pretty under him and Levi feels like he’s on another planet.

With renowned confidence, Levi slides back and forth into you, thrusting deep into your core, pushing your soft walls and leaving them swollen and throbbing for more. Everything turns into a frenzy—an explosion of sensations.

How long have you both dreamed of this moment?

Your head dips further into the pillow, rolling back to display your arched neck. Beads of sweat trickle down your face, teeth biting down your moans, fingers tugging at the sheets. Levi can tell you’re close and he grabs your hips and thrusts into you with red-blooded vigor.

You cry out louder with your second orgasm. Your mouth parts as your whole body tenses and spasms, all the while mumbling his name in incoherent strings of words.

Levi, Levi, Levi.

It’s about the sweetest thing Levi has ever seen, and his own climax erupts moments later. Muscles clenched, Levi feels like he’s seeing stars.

He lands on top of you, face buried in the crane of your shoulder, heaving for air. For a moment, that’s all he can do—ragged sighs, dampness everywhere and intermingled limbs.

But once reality settles, once Levi realizes what just transpired, a bizarre feeling washes over him. He lies next to you, the two of you staring at the ceiling.

It’s over.

The Game is done.

After this, he can finally get you out of his head.

Right?

“Levi, you’re up.”

Levi stands up coolly, smoothing his suit with one hand. He gathers his belongings and walks towards the projector, where he plugs in his computer to display his slides. As the presentation loads, everyone in the meeting is deadbeat silent, knowing full well how much Levi hates to be distracted by mindless chit-chat.

Levi thus begins his presentation. His usual curt and meticulous speech ravels the crowd, his voice carrying information with deadbeat precision.

It takes about fifteen minutes for him to go through all his slides and by the time he’s done, Levi feels confident he was thorough enough.

“Any questions for Levi?” One of the managers asks after Levi finishes.

Levi turns towards the crowds, a flat expression on his face.

Voices muffle around the room, everyone agreeing that they do not have any questions. Satisfied, Levi goes to gather his belongings.

“I do!” One hand raises in the crowd. Levi freezes, turning towards that familiar, sultry voice. “Mr. Ackerman, can you clarify something for me?”

Levi snaps his attention to your face.

He finds you in your seat, a notepad in hand, twirling a loose strand of hair with your finger. Levi doesn’t know when you entered this meeting—you certainly weren’t there at the start—but as you explain your question (and a damn good question at that), Levi realizes something.

Perhaps it’s the tone in your voice, the way it carries that same allure Levi had heard so many times. Perhaps it’s those eyes again, half-veiled with a twinkle only he can see. Perhaps it's the way your shoulders roll as you speak, remembering the way your back arched for him.

But as he gazes at you, Levi realizes how fucked he is.

Because there you are—business as usual—acting as if nothing changed.

But everything has changed. Everything changed the moment the two of you made that decision in the hotel lobby.

And all Levi can think about is all the familiar ways he knows you, and the words still left unsaid.

“Mr Ackerman,” you call out again, a curious smile settling on your face.

Levi realizes he hasn’t answered your question, that he’s just been staring at you for the past minute in complete silence.

Shit.

You tilt your head and speak up again, “Did you hear my question?”

And Levi knows the Game isn’t over yet.

It’s only beginning.

— Masterlist

[alwaysaslutforarthurmorgan]

New Hanover

PC: Me

[jomanila]

La Primera Clase Prostitute

Scene:  1

He was the most handsome man I ever met.  He was with a umbrella hombre ella is the code.  He is like like a fish with butter and lemon.  And his sarap y taste.  Very Very tempting with british accent. A sophisticated man for a change. No I meet a lot of sophisticated men all my professor.  He is like a glimpse of what might happen if only I take chances.  Before the meeting I went to the powder room and pretty myself.  I will meet sir Henry your professor.  I told elaine but before that thing happen I am chin chin an actress.  So talino St. Scholastican  Maria Clara ha-ha-ha naloka tuloy sya.  Its almost night time on the way  home.  Home is where your heart is and its about to be taken to my family.  I graduate Masteral so we had a party with friends.  I was happy and I cant believe my dream every walk is a way to get to there.  I chose to be a nun so I can help poverty we are trying to fight it even in our family.  Heaven gives chances.  This is the second scene.

Dialogue

Elaine:  Margaritte please help me with this subject.  Its sociology interaction to other classmate

Margaritte: Yes I would do your assignment. 

Narrator:  I would try to do this assignment is a good subject and I learn a lot from it.

Scene 2

My bestfriend since Highschool asked me to be with her and try to groom ok.  This is our first meeting I don’t know what is with the umbrella I decode it in scene 1.  Doctorate in Spanish too who perfected her worksheet.  So what stop you for going to him my ambition so he code me ambisyosa.  Hoy sir priest ang hirap sa atin mga filipino wala tayong ambisyon kaya tao iniiwan ng dayukyok na aeta para para social at rich sila at yung ipapanganak nila eh totoo ba.

Narrator:  She told herself being a handsome is a temptation to their student then how do we interact to men if there is no men there its sociology hmmm we did not talk to each other but how do we learn the language of men and its action.  He is so white and his face is like heaven.  She tried to imagine this feeling like a feather pillow.  And the dimension changes.  I heard my classmate being so tense.  The intuition of the mother superior or hunches are maybe right.

Scene 4

Narrator

My friends are like a younger sister.  Always happy to see me and I go shower and slumber party with her but not without group study or my father will kill me.  I know him so well.  For payment because I am a professional, she treated me with my favorite food with protein diet because I am so thin.  I love eating so much aside from its being delicious that we had a beautiful restauranter.  Its sumptuous and very very delicious a foreigner maybe like me.  My friend course is HRM but in short course so we try to be there often.  At talagang Espanyol to I eat with gusto pero sosyal.  We met osang she a friend of us and she knew I would like to give money so she gave her kaya share kami dun.  Kitam mabait talaga ko ayaw nyo maniwala.  My friend makes me laugh often in the convent she makes me laugh and we seated in a chair in pergola near the church.  I know what her test why she keep on praying.

Dialogue:  Halika na magchapel na tayo. 

Narrate:

And we prayed together to keep too our friendship.  So we prayed our need and we kneel in the chapel.

I don’t know what I prayed to God maybe blessings.

Scene 5

I got my ambition when? after community in PVI.  No Highschool third year CEO of McDonalds.  I pass the interview which is my resume.  Working student in Easycall I set up the call center.  Where we transmit message.  First Christmas that I was not with them I look at the table all full of foods and I almost I need to be strong so I should not be crying.  Christmas is not Christmas without my family.  So miss it.  Did not eat.  There is this long queue and I tried to beat the clock and all the managers to cheer me.  I am doing good with job exemplary par excellence.  All the money goes to my family so I was saving up for heaven.  My family is my heaven.  You know heaven comfort and love with mixture of color that is very Daddy.  I am always proud of him with pride and honor I told him.  I became a banker when I was in elementary in Bangko Filipino where the China Bank is now.  So I need to study in Business School Harvard Scene 3 not 4

I became the Chief Executive Officer of Bengued Mining my practicum in Makati.  So this is Makati I told myself they said this is the riches city.  People are working and they are not eating food.  I was in the pool of secretary at that time.  I paid them my lunch and my father went to Palawan to pay mining and the company of PAL.

Scene 5

My friend elaine always makes me  to go to God she would usher me to the church and pray for dreams and penance for our sin.  Then we go in another scene in altar the prayer room. 

Dialogue

Elaine inaantok na ako dito sa kandilang to and she prayed for his future husband while convent school. They went to student lounge.  Its smells feet and try to rest. 

Dialogue

The nun says parang pagud na pagod pati sa library natutulog kasi masteral nya pagiging librarian kasi natulog sya therefore I  cannot sleep there but there are pillow.

Dialogue

The Librarian said parating  Parating gutom code nila to sa fraternity brotherhood to. 

This is my favorite food white spaghetti and corn dog jumbo hotdog kaya mo bato kaya bato.  Creature of habits will eventually die maybe not routine is when they will try to kill you.  Masteral nga.

Scene 6

I took up Rizal in UP and Ateneo.  Doctorate of Filipino language at the young age of 11.  After the module I saw my professor briefing us on how to flunk the subject.  First second third late you will have an F.  Second late the traffic is causing my heartbeat so loud I about to had a heart attack.  Maybe this is a hint from the cosmic universe that I will fall in love with Filipino. So when I enter the premises my exhaustion is causing me to fall.  So I ran so fast when I saw the professor so I wont fail Rizal.  I was looking for subject I was in line going to the registry.  Anthropology the study of race.  When I first met anthropology in the classroom of God, the male specie is nice to look at.  There anatomy is well proportioned the height is tall and I forgot because of his handsomeness everything that I learned.  Maybe A love spell cast on us which race believe in sorcery and witches and magician.  I tried to have a remedial studying in Australia for the 4 kind of races.  Jose Rizal we are spying men on who will be reincarnated as Jose Rizal. Opps I just came from the book of Noli Me Tangere when the souls played your playwright.  Is it reincarnation?  Dejavu or the belief like synchronicity, serendipity and the likes.

Scene 7

She was holding the paper and she get humanities as a subject.  Well humanity is about saving lives and not doing things that will hurt human.  Why do we go on war?  So many will not be enslave.

Dialogue

Margaritte:  Syempre elaine para di ma slave

Elaine:  Bahala ka nilalabanan mo na naman ang lipunan eto eh kung ikaw naging slave hindi kaba nalulungkot eto kasi makatao nga ako. At saka yun nga yung subject. And to learn that they can stop perversion by the use of ART. 

Narrate

I studied Van Gogh the painter who has a problem with his ear,matisse,gaugin,Michael Angelo which is last supper,studied mona liza and her nerve problem in the convent.  For humanitarian reason they said why we save criminal so they tried so what is the logic prolonging the agony.   Impressionalism, Renaissance,Cubism,Baroque, Modern Art, Abstract Art and Pop Art like Warhol.

Logic and Philosophy 8

Doctorate in Law and Philosophy

There are question before you reach your dream how can you help humanity.  If I study and philosophize what there culture belief and the things that makes them alive. 

Scene 9

Women Studies, Computer Lecture, Computer Lab, Chemistry Lecture and Lab

So we study about woman today.  Do you know yourself that well as you bathe and touches your breast your navel your pussy to get sanitize.  What do you think is your threat.  Kidnapping with ransome,rape ,humantrafficking,bioterrorism.  Where did you learn it the Scholastican Newspaper and what are you lobbying Anti-Terrorism.  Does the means justify the end depending on how you use  the money.  In the Computer laboratory.  We discover Einstein because she chat the Ms.  She told her in the coded message radiation with Heat will kill us.  Heat wave and radiation that is why we are droopy eyed.  Pleas save us we are sporadic we can breathe what should be your answer changing temperature the aircon should be increase.

Dialogue:  Bruha you would learn to behave.

Scene 10

She was in the canteen or cafeteria her schoolmate told

Dialogue in the ESP

Pagikaw nakidnapped bahala that is the first transmission.  How to stop radiation eat a lot protein food.

[squidgamesmut]

Seong Gi-hun | Know your place 🌶️

MINORS DNI!

Prompt: There is a lot that Seong Gi-hun can tolerate, but there are boundaries that you shouldn’t cross. Eventually, it comes to the point that it’s time to put a brat like you where she belongs.

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x Reader

Word count: 3.5K

Tags: Thigh riding, daddy kink, age gap, degradation, dirty talk

Requested by @marstheplanet

The morning after the bloodbath started out with bodies being retrieved by the pink guards, but as soon as the final coffin disappeared behind the thick steel doors, you were all left to yourselves for the rest of the day.

Apparently, the Game Makers had decided that today would have no real game, seeing that something that could be considered a game had taken place last night, and because there were no windows around to indicate any time of day, it did not take long for you to become bored out of your mind.

You were laying in your bed, counting the rings in the base of the bunk above you, and rolled backwards, tensing your muscles, placing your feet against the bed on top. It felt funny underneath your feet, and so you pushed against it.

“Will you stop doing that?” you heard a grumpy voice from above, which caused you to kick against the bed in protest. “Aish! Stop that, that hurts!”

Another kick.

The frown of Seong Gi-hun appeared in your field of vision as a mop of dark hair appeared on the left side of your bed. “Are you deaf? I said that it’s hurting me. I’ve already done you a huge favour by giving you the bed on the floor because you were afraid to fall off, so be grateful at least.”

You rolled on your side to face him, plopping your feet back onto the bed much to his delight

“I’m bored,” you huffed, “Why don’t you think of something to do?”

Gi-hun looked at you with irritation lacing his features. “Think of something yourself. I’m not your babysitter.” You sighed and rolled onto your back again, kicking his bed once again. A grunt was heard from above you.

“Listen here, you little--”

The PA cut off Gi-hun’s rage, announcing that food was going to be served very soon and that all players should gather in the middle. You let out a sound of relief, finally having something to do again, but after getting out of bed and walking towards the middle, you felt Gi-hun’s eyes burn into the back of your head.

You turned to look over your shoulder, giving him a look of feigned innocence. “Need something, sir?”

“Didn’t your parents teach you manners?” Gi-hun countered, “Completely dependent on others despite being in your twenties.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted forward in the queue. The pink guards had brought forward something to eat for lunch, though it appeared to not be a lot. Nevertheless, you were looking forward to getting food, for the egg and cider of the evening before had left a bitter aftertaste.

“Can you believe the nerve of that girl? Sang-woo, did you see what happened earlier?” Gi-hun looked at his friend, who frowned at him, unsure of what he was talking about. “That girl kicks me awake from my much-needed nap and then whines about being bored.”

“Nothing you can do about it, Gi-hun.” Sang-woo said with a shrug. “Just avoid her and you’ll be fine.”

You overheard the conversation and exasperatedly sighed, taking the food the guard was holding out for you - another bottle of milk and a fish bun.

“Milk again?” you heard Gi-hun sigh, “Can’t they understand that I cannot digest that properly?”

The revelation caused you to laugh a little, at which Gi-hun scoffed. “Think that’s funny, huh? Stop being so rude.”

“Big boy can’t handle some milk? Boohoo.” you mocked, “Not such a big boy now.”

“Listen, being lactose-intolerant does not mean that I--”

You moved your hand in the air to represent a talking mouth. “Blah blah blah. You’re always complaining, sir.”

“I don’t have to take that from you - you’re the one constantly bothering everyone with your bratty behaviour and annoying voice.”

“Well,” you responded, “You’re being a real adult about it apparently! If you think I’m immature, why don’t you just ignore me like the others do?”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to bite something back, but Sang-woo came in between before he could speak. “Calm down, both of you. Gi-hun, sit here. Miss (L/n), sit over there. Don’t speak to each other.” Sang-woo gestured somewhere out of range and you sighed, walking over to the assigned spot. Upon sitting down, you locked eyes with Gi-hun and stuck out your tongue, unwrapping your fish bun.

Gi-hun was munching on his food in an annoyed manner, gaze fixated upon you. “Who does she think she is? Disrespecting her elders. Huh… To think that I agreed on switching beds. That is how she thanks me?”

Sang-woo sighed and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let it go, Gi-hun. She’s not worth your anger.”

Gi-hun kept quiet, deciding to stop complaining, though his eyes were still looking at you as he ate his food in silence. You raised a challenging eyebrow at him before turning to your bun, looking at the floor instead.

~*~*~

The tension between Gi-hun and you remained until far after lunch time. The wrapper of the fish bun had remained in your pocket and you idly tore off pieces of plastic, rolling them into small balls in between your thumb and index-finger, throwing them to the floor.

A shadow blocked the light in the room from your view, and you looked up to see Gi-hun towering over you.

“You are going to clean that up, right? I don’t want to slip on those when I go to bed and break my neck because of your littering.”

“What’s it to you? Might be better, too. It would be a lot quieter around here. Even the old man isn’t complaining about me, so what is your problem?’

“I could ask you the same,” Gi-hun countered. “You pretend like this is your kingdom, whine when you don’t get your way and disrespect your elders.”

You let out a noise of indignation and showed him a humourless smile. “And what? It’s not like the guards are respecting us in turn. We’re all equals here, aren’t we? Get used to it, old man.”

“I am not--” Gi-hun sharply pointed at you, obviously agitated, “I am not old!”

“Yes you are.” You tore off another piece of the wrapper and threw it against his chest. “Very old. One-foot-in-the-grave kind of old. You’re boring as fuck.”

Gi-hun stared down at the piece of wrapper you had thrown against him. “You think so, huh? You’re acting like a child. Behave like the adult you are, before you get into any serious trouble.”

You cocked a brow and tilted your head slightly. “Was that a threat?”

“Perhaps.” Gi-hun straightened his back to appear tougher and you grinned, fighting yourself from laughing out loud. “What are you laughing at?” he snapped. “Shut up and don’t kick my bed!”

He walked off, frustrated with how you were acting. You smirked a bit, blowing a lock of hair away from your face before laying down on your bed, feet against the one above, thinking about how to kill time.

~*~*~

A few days passed, but the annoyance between the two of you did not die down. As the population of the room continued to decrease, you and Gi-hun started to become unable to avoid each other. Whereas you could usually hide behind a few other people, it became more and more difficult to not interact.

After the marble game, the group remained with only half of the players that had participated in the game, and you had retreated to the bathroom to freshen up a little and gather yourself over the bloodshed you had witnessed.

A pipe leaked somewhere, and you inspected your own face through the mirror, deliberating whether to turn back to the common room or not.

The door of a stall slammed behind you, pulling you from your thoughts. Seong Gi-hun’s reflection approached you, and you stood straight, turning off the tap.

“Can I help you?” you quizzed, raising an eyebrow and turning around to look at the man walking towards you, Gi-hun’s eyes narrowing as he neared.

“For starters, I don’t know what your problem with me is.” he stated, “I’ve tried to be civil with you, but it looks like you’ve got respect for nobody.”

“I had respect for the old man.” you said, scratching some dried blood from under your nail. You raised a challenging eyebrow at Gi-hun’s hands balling into fists, for you had struck a raw nerve. “If you respect me, I’ll respect you, as simple as that.”

“Yet you were the one who started being annoying to me.” Gi-hun countered, crossing his arms. “You really need to learn and be nicer to your elders.”

“Etiquette means jack shit in a place like this.” you told him, tilting your head slightly. “Do you really think that I’m going to spend my time with things like that? It means nothing.”

You walked forward, attempting to walk around the man and exit the bathroom, but he stepped to the side you were going, successfully obstructing your path. You sighed and stepped the other way, but he went with you, peering down at you since you were standing straight against his chest.

“Let me pass.”

“What’s the magic word?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Really, are you going to do this? Fine. Let me pass, please.”

“That’s not the word I was aiming for.”

You laughed with slight disbelief in your voice and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Fuck me, what the hell do you want from me old man? You better let me pass right now, before people come looking where I am.”

“I think you know the word I want from you, and you won’t pass before you give it to me.”

“No.” you said, inspecting Gi-hun from up close by narrowing your eyes and attempting to look taller than you were by straightening your back, nearly brushing against him. “Even if my life depended on it.”

You stood like that for a good minute, staring at each other in silence, neither of you caving in. It gave you a chance to analyse Seong Gi-hun’s features better, a light stubble coming through on his face, and his hair was messy, with a wave sticking out over his forehead. If you didn’t know better, you’d consider him attractive.

Suddenly, a large smile spread over your face, as charming as you could muster. “Let me pass?” you quizzed softly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying the word he so desperately wanted to hear from you.

He did not respond, instead walked towards you, and you took a few steps back out of pure instinct. “A young woman like you should know to not mess with a middle-aged man like me.”

You raised a brow and smirked. “Or what?” you challenged, watching how he leaned closer. The gesture made your eyes widen in surprise, which caused Gi-hun to step towards you upon noticing your faltering confidence.

Your back was met with cold tiles, and you gasped a bit, Gi-hun soon standing against you. “Your tongue is way too sharp for my liking,” he hissed, pushing a knee between your legs, his body otherwise fully pressed against you. Something warm grew within you, something far more dangerous than anger or annoyance.

The fact that a man almost twice your age was standing so close to you with his knee at your groin made your cheeks flame with sudden lust, for you weren’t awfully familiar with seducing men this much older than you. Certainly, you did have quite a bit of experience in swaying guys around your own age, but they were easily coaxed into bed.

Gi-hun, on the other hand, was icy towards you and old enough to be your father, and this distance in age between the two of you was so easily bridged by the sudden need for sex.

Perhaps he hated you, you thought for a moment, and perhaps you hated him.

Not that it mattered in this case, for everything was fair in a situation between life and death. Sometimes, you just had to do what you could to survive, and you wondered if you and Gi-hun would have been so prickly towards one another if you had met under different circumstances.

“Do something about it, then,” you challenged him, leaning closer towards him. Gi-hun hummed, something flickering behind his dark eyes, a gaze that had your throat run dry. Perhaps you should not have looked upon them, but on the other hand, it made you decide your very next move.

Without any kind of warning whatsoever, you leaned in to kiss him chastely. As far as this very situation was able to remain chaste, for snogging a man this much older than you would be considered impure and thoroughly inappropriate.

Gi-hun froze, something that made you both proud and upset. On one hand, you had successfully shut him up and could most likely slip away from him without him putting up any fight, for he was too baffled to respond to anything at this moment. But then, part of yourself did not want to leave him behind like this. Maybe you even secretly hoped for more.

You did not want to go when he was standing so awfully close, where you could practically smell him, and his lips were softer than you had expected, even after days of stress and fear. You had thought them to be dry and chapped, but in truth, you wanted to feel them again.

His eyes found yours and something soft laid in them. You blinked slowly, bridging the gap between you once more though halting when your face was in front of his. “If you want respect, you’ll have to earn it.” said you with a whisper.

Something in his features snapped.

“That’s daddy to you, girl.”

You opened your mouth to respond to the sudden shift in dynamic, but his hands were upon your arms before you could comprehend what was happening. “First, I wanted you to call me sir, but your childishness requires you to call me something else. You like to kiss older men in order to get what you want, hm? What a slut.”

He parted your legs by pressing his knee against the wall in between them, and you had no choice but to sit on his thigh. Your wrists were brought above your head, soon pushed against the tiles, a gasp leaving your throat involuntarily.

Gi-hun pressed his face against your neck, inhaling deeply. “You get turned on by having someone so much older than you touch you? Such an… Experienced man?”

You let out a chuckle in order to throw him off guard: “A loser like you certainly lacks experience.”

“Your body tells me otherwise, (Y/n).” Gi-hun tutted, and only now you noticed how your body was grinding against his leg, your straining clit throbbing at the stimulation. “Ride it.” he breathed against your neck, licking a stripe across it to your ear, “Ride my leg like the needy slut you are.”

The friction against the many layers of clothing made annoyance well up in your chest, and you grunted whilst almost pitifully rubbing yourself against his thigh, and he looked at you with lust-blown eyes. “Not used to a young thing wanting to have sex with you, are you?”

He gritted his teeth and grabbed a hold of your collar firmly. “You want to have sex with me, is that it?”

Your eyes widened almost challengingly, and you smirked. “Don’t you?”

“You’re such a whiny little girl. You’re not worth the effort.”

“Oh, really?” you mused, “Your body tells me otherwise.”

He pushed you against the wall, forcing you to halt in your grinding. You whimpered slightly, the wall cold even through your track suit jacket, and Gi-hun brought his face against your neck. “Don’t act so funny with me, (Y/n). You know that I can’t handle spoiled brats like you.”

An involuntary shiver went down your spine and his hand slid past your waistband, rubbing across the soaked folds of your cunt. You brought one hand to the back of Gi-hun’s head and laced your fingers into his hair, grabbing him tightly. “Who knew that behind all those layers of polite awkwardness hid such a lustful beast?” you purred.

Sharp teeth on your neck and you gasped slightly, letting your free hand go towards his groin, which was stiffly pressing against his trousers. “If it’s a beast you want, it’s a beast you’ll get.”

The huskiness of his voice made you whimper and he spun you around without a fair warning, pressing your front against the wall. He kicked apart your legs and rid you of your trousers and underwear in one swift motion. You braced yourself, the soles of your shoes squeaking against the floor.

“A spoiled brat like you,” Gi-hun muttered, licking his fingers before prodding at your soaked entrance, stretching you out. You moaned at the intrusion and looked over your shoulder to watch him. “A spoiled brat like you needs to be reminded where she belongs every so often.”

He pushed the trousers of his tracksuit to his knees and revealed the average size of his erection, uncircumcised and purple around the head. You gasped slightly at the angling of his fingers inside of you. “So needy,” he groaned, thrusting his slender digits. “Such an arrogant, impatient girl. Taking my fingers like that. Pathetic.”

You moaned, moving back your ass so that he would quicken his pace. Gi-hun removed his fingers instead and licked them clean. “We’ve got to hurry before they come and start looking where you are.”

He stepped behind you, one of his hands on your butt, the other lining himself up with your core. He bottomed out in one swift movement and you hissed, a moan getting stuck in your throat.

His girth stretched you out and you chewed your lip to prevent yourself from becoming too loud, and began to move in time with his thrusts, maximising your pleasure. Your hand went between your legs to fondle your clit, but Gi-hun grabbed your wrist, forcing it against your back. “You think that you’ll be allowed to touch yourself, after acting like that? You should know your place, (Y/n).”

You weren’t sure how you had exactly brought forth this side of Gi-hun, but you were not complaining. Gasping, you pressed your cheek against the awful tiles of the bathroom, icy cold in contrast with the heat of his pelvis pummeling against your ass with every roll of his hips.

Another knock on the door. “Hurry up there, or I’ll come in!” sounded the muffled voice of a guard, and you looked over your shoulder to see Gi-hun fully focusing on fucking you deeply. He grunted in enjoyment, though let his face harden on purpose when he noticed you were checking him out, and you grinned.

“Who has control over who now, hm?”

“Shut up.” Gi-hun hissed, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room. “You’ve got such a tight little pussy. Need a real man to fill it, huh?”

You moaned softly at the sudden flutter of his fingers over your throbbing, swollen clit. Perhaps that he indeed realised that you had to make haste if either of you wanted to finish before those pink guards would head in to ruin the fun.

“A needy, whiny girl like you should know her place.” Gi-hun muttered, bending over you, his thrusts becoming ragged and slow, his cock swelling inside of you. He was close, and so were you, so as your reply, you merely whimpered. “Your place, (Y/n), you should never forget… Is between the bathroom wall… And me!”

With a grunt, he spilled inside of you, and a quick fondle of your own fingers upon your clitoris - he wasn’t paying attention in the bliss of his climax - you also unravelled, moving against him, barely finding grip on the smooth wall.

He pulled out and you winced at the feel, his seed sliding down your thighs almost right away. You stood up straight whilst Gi-hun redressed quickly, going to wash his hands at the sink.

Moving to one of the stalls, you went to grab some toilet paper to clean up, but Gi-hun was soon next to you. “Nothing of that. Put your knickers back on.”

“But they’ll get dirty.”

“That’s the point. Put them back on, before the guards come in and see you all naked like that.” Gi-hun clicked his tongue and you raised an eyebrow at him.

Silently, you followed his order, sticky semen gathering on the inside of your pants.

“If acting like that gets me fucked in the way you just did,” you murmured, “I’ll make sure to be annoying more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” Gi-hun deadpanned, “If you do, I won’t be so kind next time.”

You smiled. “Next time… Sir?”

“That’s not sir to you, (Y/n).”

You sighed, caving in. “Daddy.”

Gi-hun gave a small nod, shrugging. “Good girl. Now, let’s head back to the main hall, and I’ll think about it.”

You smiled, following him outside of the bathroom, feeling his spend gather in your knickers, looking forward to the next time he’d take you.

Tag list: @badedum-badaboom / @a-gay-elephant-called-jonathan / @leia-origami / @dean-samw67 / @therealromewrites / @hoebag123 / @thefleetofdreams / @momona-ha / @frontmanfanatic / @secretagent101 / @gihunmybeloved / @dancedannydance / @smutnafiranka / @fairielovegood / @phoeberosewald

[newhanovere]

Out of curiosity, why do people write the hashtag #quesirareafish?

hi! so that’s actually my personal tag lmfao, other people may use it or some variation of it on their own blog (i’m sure it’s a pun other people have thought of before me), or they may accidentally copy it into their reblog from me bc of tumblr glitching. but basically it’s my queue tag - it denotes any post that i’ve queued so i can keep myself organized. i queue most posts rn tbh, but that may change eventually!

a lot of people come up with puns or specific tags that mean queue, so that we all don’t share the same one and have a blog specific one. but some people will just use the word “queue” and that denotes their blog’s queue! some people don’t use the queue function at all though so that might be why you only see it on my blog or a handful of blogs.

and finally - the quote comes from the game! you may know this already lol but when arthur pulls a fish off the line sometimes he’ll go “you, sir, are a fish” and it cracks me up so i decided to use that for my queue!

i hope that clarifies things/wasn’t too confusing haha

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

@cayeeast​ 🥰 You are never too late, my inbox is always open. :) I hope Damirae?! I have to preface this:  I apologize in advance. I don’t really do fics like these—this is the first. But I want to grow, be a better writer, and try new things. I have never written anything like this before, so honestly, THANK YOU.

Prompts

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

"More sauvignon blanc, Miss?"

A bottle of wine was withdrawn from the metal ice bucket, lifted by their waiter's practiced hands. Beads of ice cold perspiration were congealing, beginning to travel downward as Raven swallowed another gulp of air. Though it was slight, her grasp began to shake around her cutlery. She had done her very best not to look at the bottle during the duration of the meal.

Now it was practically in her face, sweating.

Her breath hitched in her throat, as she watched the condensation continuing a steady drip.

It was quite possibly mocking her.

The moment seemed to stretch on before veering into uncomfortable, until both gentlemen glanced down at her untouched white.

"Malbec, sir?"

"Please."

The waiter gently replaced the white before disturbing the red. He swept around the table to refill another glass for Damian, who murmured a polite thanks.

Damian fingered the long, thin stemmed wine glass and turned it towards himself in circles. Several rotations were completed to air out the liquor. He guided the blackened magenta beverage to his lips and sipped thoughtfully.

"Raven."

Though Raven didn't immediately glance up, she was focusing on her meal rather intently. She shuffled slices of swordfish steak and capers to make them chase her chanterelle mushrooms and root vegetables around the triangular shaped plate in different patterns.

Of course, the half-demon was sure to select the appropriately suited silverware as she did so. Her efforts were starting to slow, however, as the lemon cream sauce became nearly nauseating when paired with seafood vapors.

Did fish always smell quite so pungent?

"Is there something wrong with the food?" She refocused on the handsome face of her dining companion, flickering in and out of the candelabra light.

"No, it's wonderful," Raven insisted. "Really, wonderful—great... presentation." His emerald eyes parsed the perfectly placed parsley and the latticework of sauce that was now a soupy mess saturating a plate of parsnips and fish.

"Oh, well it must have been." Damian exhaled sharply out of the corner of his mouth. "But, I'll always say nothing is too beautiful to eat..." He drawled.

"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought..." she mumbled, flushing a little more than delicately.

"I hope our waiter doesn't insinuate to the kitchen that the meal fell short of perfection tonight. If the chef doesn't already know..." He scanned the perimeter of the dining room, as if expecting to be ambushed by the staff or a number of dining guests.

"I'm willing to bet if it wasn't so busy, he'd be out here himself, demanding to know what's wrong with the food." He cut his steak as he reminisced. "Remember what happened the time you asked for salt...?"

"It could just be me." Subtly, she slid her plate nearer to the center of the table. "Even though, I'll never be fully assured that fish is the best idea on a Monday... Are you sure it's fresh?"

"Is it fresh?"

A part of her was teasing, but Damian physically recoiled an inch. To insinuate that he would frequent an establishment that would serve his fiancée day old fish? His face was drawn with his jaw so set, it was as though he had been slapped—or someone in the vicinity had insulted his mother.

"I called ahead. That swordfish was caught earlier today. They're in season, sustainably sourced, and delivered directly to the restaurant—"

And with a menu that read: price available upon request, where other establishments printed dollar amounts, they all but prepared it table-side.

"But... you didn't follow them to the docks?" She asked in a deadpan. "You didn't call the fishmonger either? And I'm guessing, you didn't stand in the kitchen and observe the process?" Raven folded her arms. "Well, I don't understand how someone who takes shortcuts manages to run a billion-dollar corporation."

Raven wasn't at all new to this and she wasn't sure she would ever fully get used to it.

But sarcasm always helped.

"I was under the impression it was your favorite... You enjoyed it so much when we were here months ago." Damian's eyes darkened and then shone, like a man accepting a challenge. "Have your tastes changed already?"

"It's just... It's a little strong—the smell." Raven cleared her throat with her cheeks draining of their remaining color. "It's much stronger than I remember."

"Tell me... Is it work?" He surveyed the tail-coated waiter standing at the ready and lowered his voice accordingly. "Is it...something else?"

This was meant to speak of their nightly activities, the ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime.

Well, the other ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime—no safe words.

Inwardly, Raven groaned, because once again she was reminded of how much harder this could become.

By Azar's blood.

"It's not...that either. My stomach really is too unsettled for fish today." She took the napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth. "Normally it wouldn't be, but maybe... I'm a little unsettled, too."

"Tch... Well, I knew there had to be something." A half frown stole across Damian's full lips. "It's me, Raven... And this is us. We don't hide things from each other. Not anymore."

"I know." She heard her voice wavering. "I know that..."

"If there's anything at all, you'll tell me." He reached across the table to brush her hand. "If you're unhappy, tell me. I'll do whatever I can..." he whispered, lifting his eyebrows to punctuate his next words. "And I mean... anything."

Now Raven couldn't contain a crude snort. "I know, Damian."

"We can stop by a jewelry store - that engagement ring looks awfully lonely by itself." She sucked her teeth in a manner that was less than refined.

"Shoe store then... You can never have too many pairs of those very similar—" Haughtily, Raven blew air up through the side of her mouth to ruffle through her hair. "—but different, black pairs of boots..."

"We can take a trip..." His voice grew lower still. "...have a threesome." But, that one might have been a question rather than a suggestion. And as he pondered his words, his fork went sailing straight through the remainder of his steak without the aid of the knife. "Well...maybe not that last one."

"You're incredible...suggesting a ménage à trois at a French restaurant? Coquin." The half demon shook her napkin at him. "I'd laugh if this fish wasn't making my eyes water."

"Well, I'd do anything for you..." he replied evenly. "If it would make you happy, I'd even consider thinking about that last." And Raven shot her lavender eyes straight up towards the domed ceiling. They both knew the truth. "Maybe someday in the far, far future..."

As if he would ever share her.

That was exactly right, wasn't it? As if he would ever share her, or their lives with anyone?

Why would he?

They lived on the top floor of an elegant building in Gotham with a vintage lift whose golden grills led straight out into their penthouse apartment. But, it could be argued that the building wouldn't have been complete without their elderly doorman, Tom.

On the daily, he hailed cabs for Raven. Semi-weekly, he handed Damian hangers of dry-cleaning that refilled their twin walk-in closets of the numerous suits, trousers, and shirts and monochromatic dresses, blouses, and skirts.

Each morning, he bade Raven good morning as she went off to work and each night he held the door as he bade Damian good evening, a spectator in the lover's lockstep.

Weekly, Damian and Raven maintained long-standing lunch dates clustered in his corner office at Wayne Technologies. Monthly, the couple attended Sunday brunch with the extended clan of brothers, sisters, partners, kids, and pets all assembled together at the Manor.

Yes, there were others in their lives.

Even though Damian would argue they existed more or less on the fringes of a tapestry, while he kept her framed at the center.

Still, he seemed to love everything exactly as it was and he was in no hurry to change it. Especially when every night ended with them tangled together in their king-sized bed.

Two.

Plus one dog.

Titus was the only exception. Unless things changed in the far, far future.

"Do you mind if we cut dinner short?" Raven suddenly suggested. It must have been abrupt because Damian seemed caught off guard. "I think I want to go home early, curl up next to you, and finish those final pages of my book."

"Alright." He signaled for the check. "I'd like that... We'll get you home and I want your final thoughts on the ending. They better be scathing." The waiter reappeared instantly and it was like he'd never left. And even though his eyes remained lowered to the ground, she knew he had to be appraising her.

Raven mumbled something about the ladies room. She considered splashing her face with water and giving herself a pep talk. But to what end? The evening had already gone array. Something unexpected had cropped up.

Unexpected.

How was she supposed to tell him this?

Damian was a planner and for the most part, so was she. They didn't do unexpected.

"Actually, I'm going to grab my coat."

She excused herself and placed her napkin next to the untouched glass of wine. Her feet were pinched tighter in the heels with every step towards the exit. Raven followed the partition around the perimeter of the dining room, arriving at the stairs to the entrance hall.

As she waited in the queue for her coat, her eyes wandered past the sweeping architecture and up the wrap around staircase, where Damian was probably talking to the head chef and the owner. Just as he predicted.

She handed over her ticket, her heart leaping towards her chest as the end of the evening dawned on her. And as Raven grabbed the coat, she wanted to whirl around in her uncomfortable heels and march back up those stairs. Uncaring of her rudeness, she'd steal Damian away, tug him towards the hallway with the row of chandeliers and kiss him.

And tell him absolutely everything.

She would tell him why La Chandelle wasn't at all appealing tonight. She would tell him why she'd suggested going out to dinner in the first place. She would tell him why things had changed so suddenly.

And why everything could.

Instead, she slunk away. Out of the restaurant. Onward. The best she could do now was hope: hope they could get home, hope she could get out of these heels as soon as she could. And then, Raven would figure out how to tell him tomorrow.

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

"Raven?"

Damian was racing down the stone front steps of the restaurant to meet her at the curb.

"There you are." He was hurriedly slipping a pea coat over his suit jacket and he sounded nearly breathless. "Where did you go?"

"The coat check. Did you get the car?" Her voice sounded small and defeated. "I really, really want to get home..."

"I can see that," He deadpanned. "But that's not what I meant and we both know that." His brown-black brows began to knit together. "You were somewhere else for most of the evening. I know when you slip into your mind fortress and this is different from that. So where did you go, Raven?"

She swallowed and held out her hand for him to take. They walked a few steps in silence, turning towards a side street. The sound of laughter, music, and chatter faded away and for the first time all evening, she felt like she could finally think. Raven exhaled, deciding this was far enough.

"Damian, when I asked about dinner," she began. "I wasn't expecting this... I figured we were going somewhere with a little less wine and a little less fish—less wine cooked into fish..."

He blinked, processing slowly with his hands in his pockets, his head pointed down towards the cobblestone street, coated in a mixture of oil and water. It had to have rained recently. "Well, it's not too late, we can go somewhere else—nothing French, I promise."

He licked his lips before he continued, probably sensing her apprehension. "We can go to that noodle place and ask for two pots of oolong tea instead of the usual one... Or we can just grab tea?" He offered. "But if you're too tired, we can always make it at home. I'll make yours with the biggest, widest mug and saucer we have."

"So you're just...not going to give up on tonight, are you?" Raven murmured, her lavender hair moving as she shook her head from side to side, as if wondering who this man was.

"No, I don't think I will." A smirk started up on his face. "That's the thing about having a fiancée. You can't get rid of me that easily." He tapped her cheek good-naturedly and ghosted over her forehead with his lips. "I'm always going to be here."

"Didn't we...just get engaged?"

"Is that what this is about...?" Her husband-to-be searched every single inch and orifice on her face. "We can slow things down or postpone the wedding for a few months. The last thing I want you is for you to be stressed about this."

"What I mean is..." She ran a hand across her damp forehead. "Gods, I had this whole speech planned—how I was going to tell you..." Raven's unease fell away when she felt warmth radiating in waves, like he was lending her strength.

"Anything," he whispered. "You can tell me anything." He placed his arms on her shoulders.

Raven took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his, and—

"I'm pregnant."

The words froze suspended before them in midair. Damian continued to stare at her, but without blinking. Then, Raven nodded. And then Damian started to nod too.

She couldn't believe she said it aloud; she couldn't believe that it even happened. "I know it should be impossible... And not just that it's too soon."

"You're..." Damian breathed. "You're pregnant."

And he was taking her hands with his own to squeeze them tight. He started to smile—not just smile, he was beaming in a way Raven had only seen once before: when she said yes. This was more than elation, he was in absolute awe of her. He lifted her from the rain-soaked street in a generous hug to sweep her right off her feet.

Damian was holding her, lifting her. Supporting her from below. He was staring up, as his breath streamed sweet steam swirling against the seam of her lips. From somewhere inside blooming outward, was a warmth that no amount of healing or surge of power or strike of hellfire could ever compare.

And he too was giving himself over to this sensation.

With fingers gliding through his hair, eyes welling emotion, she nodded again. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, and drew closer to connect. Deeply, gently, then sweetly, they kissed into the night.

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

Damian feathered his lips over hers, placing her gingerly onto her feet. And he was grinning madly at her. Then, his grin slid down a little. And then a lot.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something. He started to talk and stopped. Started and stopped.

"The wine—"

"The fish—"

He ran a hand down his face while he replayed the events of tonight. "I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so sorry, Raven."

"It was a nice meal. I had a great time. So, I couldn't eat anything or drink anything—so what?" Raven chuckled. Whatever cruel sense of irony there was in the world, it was a wonderful night. "You know, it's actually hilarious in hindsight, and now we have a funny story to tell our friends... A-and our—our—"

She was enveloped by the warmest, safest embrace Damian could manage as he was trembling. He rocked her and held her tight, inhaling deeper and exhaling harder until they both relaxed. "I am sorry. I should have sensed something more was going on."

"Well, neither of us thought this was even possible. Up until three days ago, I didn't know it was," Raven blurted. And it felt so good to blurt around him again. "We live together. I could have said it at breakfast. Or at the movies on Sunday... When we were in the shower together, last night. I'm the idiot. "

"The shower..." he repeated. "So that's why you were a little touchy about your body." She groaned loudly—this was not happening. "Raven, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about," Damian insisted. "And besides, you're not even showing yet."

"That's what you think," she grumbled.

His lips curled up. "Habibti." Raven raised an eyebrow. She knew as well as he did, that he had better choose that next sentence very carefully. "Habibti... you've always had an aura glowing about you, only now it's just going to grow brighter."

"Pfft," Raven muttered. "Right. As I grow bigger and rounder."

"You know what, yes," he scoffed. "You will get bigger and I don't care. For that matter, neither should you." Gingerly tilted her chin towards him. The way he was gazing at her, with unconditional love, understanding. "You'll be just as beautiful—equally exquisite."

Who could ever doubt Damian?

"And you'll be even more sensitive in all the right places." His low voice was filled with the darkest promises of sin. "I can hardly wait."

"You're dangerous," Raven murmured, knowing she was turning pink.

"Dangerous?" His nose traced the curve of her neck, as the skin shivered.

"As if you didn't know," she said flatly. "It's probably how you managed to conceive with a half-demon in the first place."

She felt him chuckle into her skin, then it morphed into something like a groan. "So, I botched dinner... And sex in the shower... I should have drawn you a nice, hot soak in the tub... Gone down on you for an hour at least...gone a few blocks past the park to grab some slices of 99 cent pizza..."

"How did you know about the pizza?" Raven's eyes widened on her flushed face. "Did Tom tell you?" Whenever Raven said she was going to 'feed the pigeons in the park', what it really meant was she was going to cut through the park to grab a slice of the cheapest pizza she could get her hands on.

So much for the code.

"You actually thought that was a secret?" And when Damian rolled his eyes, he looked less worried and more like his usual surly self. "Please. I've seen the napkins and the pathetic excuses for paper plates... Really, I should have known something was up, there were a few more than usual."

Through the ovens of pizza and pregnancy, he knew and he loved her.

And Raven threw herself forward and held him tightly to her. "You're sort of perfect, you know that?" she mumbled into the hard chest, smelling the usual amber and spiced apricot. She lifted her head and he brushed an errant strand of lavender from her eyes. "I don't want to cut tonight short. Actually... I kind of want frozen yogurt."

"Fro-yo it is."

And as they walked, he bent his head towards her. He touched her face and murmured, "I...can't believe you're carrying my child..."

Damian began to kiss her so avidly, so impatiently, they had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She was moaning and pulling pomegranate and malbec from his lips until they were both breathless.

Damian gave her a final peck and they walked back to the restaurant. It was all such a daze, Raven barely remembered him asking the valet to bring their car around. She made a motion towards the door and she noticed he'd already held the passenger side ajar for her.

"I can still do that myself."

"Hmm..." He stared off into the distance with a vague smile, as though contemplating their future. "You're going to fight me at every turn aren't you?"

"No," Raven said quickly. His eyes flickered faintly with amusement. "Not frozen yogurt—I want ice cream. Real, honest-to-goodness, ice cream made with cream, and all the toppings. Whipped cream, hot fudge..."

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

"Birdie's Diner?"

"Ignore the name, it's a good restaurant. I used to come here all the time, even before we were—" Raven was trying to pull his fingers aside to see his flushed face lit by the bright neon sign. "All diners serve eggs, alright? I'm sure that's all it means."

"And that's the only thing that drew you here?"

He hung his head in defeat before holding the door. "After you."

There were low lamps hanging over the booths and classic rock stringing out of a jukebox in the corner. Raven hadn't been to a diner like this one in well, ever. The hostess handed over two laminated menus and told them to seat themselves. So Raven sat in a red vinyl booth in the back corner, and very discreetly, slipped off her heels.

Instantly, it felt much homier than La Chandelle.

"Raven, we're getting you the best OB in Gotham—that's non-negotiable," Damian was saying. One coffee down and he picked up exactly where he'd left off in the car, driving and planning particulars. "Or Kori can recommend us hers - they're probably accustomed to working with unique cases."

Demonic blood or not, Raven sincerely doubted there was any OB-GYN in the city that wouldn't pass off a patient or two on a colleague, to quite literally, bag a Wayne baby.

The caffeine had fully set in because he was drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the table while he spoke. "It'll cost us another Sunday morning, because you know Kori will want to do an extended brunch when we tell her and Dick the news."

And the second they told her, Raven would promptly conjure up an extra-strength, soundproof barrier around her cellphone to contain the joyous shrieks. And she'd probably have to buy a new phone.

"But it'll be worth it... You know what, it's not too late, I can probably call Dick right now." His left hand darted towards his pocket.

"No. No, you won't." She placed her hand over his. "We'll do it in the morning. Tonight, you're going to sit here with me and eat ice cream, okay?" Then, her ears perked up in a way that Titus would have been proud of. Hearing the sound of a whipped cream dispenser, behind the diner counter, she was almost gleeful. Her ice cream was in transit and was arriving on a round, plastic serving tray.

"Here ya go, sweethearts." A waffle-printed glass dish and two spoons were deposited onto the smooth, scrubbed surface between them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." She smiled back at the kindly woman in the light blue waitress uniform, with a name tag that read Shirley.

Cookies and cream on a bed of bananas, crushed oreos. Whipped cream and hot fudge. Even one of those radioactive-red cherries on top. And it was absolutely wonderful. She passed Damian one of the long, thin-handled spoons, which they both knew was ill-suited for ice cream. According to Alfred, it was technically for iced tea, but appropriate cutlery was far from her mind. She tapped her spoon to his.

Cheers.

Raven dug in and moaned. In a word it was: heavenly, and far better than she could remember of ice cream. Six more bites and she could just imagine the tip of her spoon about to hit the bottom of her half. That cherry was hers.

"Hey Damian," she nudged his spoon with her own. "Now you're not eating."

"I was thinking..."

"You can think later... You've done more than enough." They would deal with the rest tomorrow. For now, she chose to think of this as a little celebration of the news—just between them.

"Come on, don't let me eat this alone... Sympathy weight starts tonight." She swallowed another spoonful while he glowered at her. And Raven knew full well he'd already had an entire steak earlier. "Don't worry about abs, your aura will just glow brighter."

"Tch—I wonder what genius said that..."

Raven snorted, but didn't argue. In fact, she was absolutely fine with riding Damian's abs—and hard body—straight into the next two trimesters.

"But I have to agree about one thing." Damian drew up his thumb, using it to wipe a smudge of whipped cream from her upper lip. "There is something about real cream..." He held her gaze as he licked his finger slowly.

The blood in Raven's core was warming, the temperature forming liquid fuel for an ache of a different kind. Officially, they had been together for over a year. And this man was now her fiancée. How did he always manage to turn her into some sort of sticky mess?

It had to be unnatural because it was utterly unfair.

Not so subtly, Raven tilted her head at the space next to her. And Damian joined her on the other side of the booth. The diner and the ice cream were so much better with his thigh lined against hers.

"Raven, can I...?" He hesitated, waiting for her approval. He held his hand up to her stomach.

"Of course you can."

Softly, he stroked the skin over her shirt, where the tiny swell would eventually grow. "Raven," he whispered at last, and she opened her eyes. "I want us to take that trip."

"A trip?" Her eyes were so wide only a sliver of purple remained. "A moment ago, you were talking about baby-proofing the apartment." He seemed unfazed. "Nannies? Au pairs? Daycare? What happened to buying every pregnancy and parenting guide our devices will permit? We can't take a trip, wouldn't that be an irresponsible start?"

"We can make time for something important like this," he insisted. "It could be good for you. And for us."

"Why in the name of Azar and all her disciples would this be a good idea?"

"Hear me out... A mother and father-to-be take a trip before the baby actually comes—a baby-moon. That's what they're called," Damian murmured. "I propose we take one, before our lives, and bodies change." He spooned a dollop of whipped cream and slid it between his lips. "What do you think?

"Oh..."

"We don't have to..." He said quickly and dropped the spoon in the dish.

"I think...it could be an interesting idea."

"If you think it's not for us," Damian reached for her and stroked her hair calmly. "I understand."

"No—Damian—we should do this." She searched his eyes. "I want to do this with you."

"Yes." Damian kissed the top of her head. "Just you and me, Raven. We can go anywhere you want."

[pinetush]

“Hopper and Chris Pine at the Fly Shop." - via Wild Trout Outfitters (fb)

[furby-organist]

> So! After hearing his friend Valera was accidentally poisoned by an Angel Dust, as well as another Alastor’s science experiment drinking a Sir Pentious’s venom, local Alexa’s last two brain cells decided he needed to partake in the fun! Thus, he’s going to find out if local Angel Dust is venomous. What could go wrong.

> The scene: One (1) Radio Demon, way too excited at the prospect of being potentially injected with venom, currently hanging out in his radio tower. More specifically, the studio room used by PCU College Radio. He’s hovering over the shoulder of a small fish-type demon, an exhausted college student who will absolutely be liveblogging the impending shitshow over on @killstreaming . (Her roommate is broadcasting but he’s out of eyesight really and minding his own damn business, a luxury Marina doesn’t get!)

> (Alastor had debated whether he should have some privacy in the event he reacts poorly to the alleged venom, or if he should allow voxblr commentary, and he decided that getting liveblogged about meant more attention on him! What is dignity? He doesn’t really know! Queue a mic tap.)

> “Hel-lo Pentagram City! This evening, we’re doing a segment in the name of scientific inquiry! We’re going to find out if the famous and fabulous Angel Dust is venomous! If he is, will the venom affect me? In what way? I’m terribly curious, and I imagine you are as well!” 

> “If I’m greeted by double death, and this station broadcasts nothing but dead air -- my apologies!”