#root server check

[felixcloud6288]

Some of the Death Note's rules are really funny if you think of them as clarifications for users, necessary fixes to address exploits, or bugs that the Shinigami king isn't going to fix.

If a Death Note owner accidentally misspells a person's name four times, that person will be free from being killed by the Death Note. -> patch to fix exploit where users would attempt to brute force killing someone by writing every possible name in the Death Note

However, if the Death Note owner intentionally misspells the name four times, the owner will die. -> Patch fix to stop exploit where users would try to grant themselves immunity

The person whose name was misspelled four times on purpose will not be free of death by a Death Note. -> Necessary clarification because users thought they could grant someone else immunity

If the same name is written in two or more Death Notes within 0.06 seconds, the entry is regarded as simultaneous; the Death Notes will not take effect and the individual will not die. -> Rare bug related to When the same name is written in two or more Death Notes, the Note which was used first will take effect, regardless of the time of death. Root cause is server requests first check if the same existing request was already made. Simultaneous requests assume the other request is valid and delete themselves. Will Not Fix. Bug is rare and fixing it could result in new exploits related to repeatedly writing a person's name in the Death Note.

When you write multiple names in the Death Note and then write down one cause of death within 40 seconds of writing the first victim's name, the cause will take effect for all the written names. Also, after writing the cause of death, even if the conditions of death are written within six minutes and 40 seconds in the human world, the conditions will apply only to the victims for whom they are possible. Those for whom the conditions are not possible will simply die from the specified cause. -> Code bug caused by undefined and ambiguous input syntax. Will Not Fix.

Once the victim's name, cause of death, and conditions of death have been written down in the Death Note, the death will take place even if that Death Note, or the part of the note used, is destroyed before the stated time of death. -> Clarification to stop users from pointlessly destroying the Death Note

The Death Note will not affect those less than 780 days old. -> A patch added to get around various cultural arguments related to when something is considered "Human"

You cannot kill humans who are more than 124 years of age with the Death Note. -> Added in reference to a Shinigami meme

You cannot kill humans with less than 12 minutes of life left (in human calculations). -> Patch that addresses undefined behavior from edge cases where the victim dies naturally before the Death Note can normally take effect or during the window the user can write additional details to the cause of death.

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when satoru gojo fakes vulnerability and someone responds with actual care?

a/n: reader using a male avatar so she doesn't get underestimated and satoru using a female avatar to scam his way through life is literally the silliest dynamic i’ve ever cooked up. like hello??? gender who??? one’s silently carrying the whole server with raw skill and the other’s sobbing in sparkles for loot he doesn’t even need. peak clownery. I LOVE THEM.

satoru didn’t play the game to be noble. he played to win.

he lounged on a mossy ledge in aethergate online’s emerald forest, legs swinging above luminous roots, beams of late afternoon light dripping through the tree canopy like syrup. his avatar—a petite girl with tousled silver hair in a wispy bob, watery blue eyes wide with a kind of fragile wonder—sat delicately beside him, barefoot, skirts artfully dirtied, wand trembling in her small hands. she looked like she’d burst into tears if you so much as raised your voice.

and she was him.

he’d picked the flattest chest size the game allowed, for maximum "innocent lost fairy" effect. her voice—filtered through a pitch-tuned modulator—was airy and lilting, like a tearful anime side character two seconds from fainting. her idle animations were rigged to sparkle when she wasn’t doing anything. a helpless deer stuck in traffic. a damsel in distress.

who also happened to be capable of obliterating an elite raid squad with one broken staff and an accidental crit chain.

in real life, satoru slouched deep into his gaming chair, hoodie collar bunched beneath his chin, white hair curling in a sleepy cloud around his head. his bangs hung low over a pair of gleaming, mischief-fueled eyes behind the visor. he stretched, knuckles cracking, before lazily adjusting the mic attached to his cheek. a bowl of half-finished cereal sat nearby, forgotten. his room glowed faintly with neon strips and a flickering holographic map of the game world plastered to one wall.

he was, objectively, the worst.

and today, he was feeling particularly theatrical.

the forest shimmered around him—twilight casting gold against the thick moss, background players flitting through with cloaks trailing behind, the soft ding of system notifications blending into birdsong. a sprite child NPC chased a floating pet butterfly near the stream, while two players argued over loot nearby, their chat bubbles popping like comic panels. satoru squatted in an overgrown fox den, triggering a scripted ambush, and let a swarm of level thirty wolves drag his health bar down to red. he screamed through his girl voice like a starlet in an old movie. “aah~ not againnn~ i’m sooo scaaared~ someone heeelp~!”

just in time, the brush behind him rustled.

you stepped out.

no fanfare, no slow-mo entrance. just calm, heavy steps. armored boots pressed moss flat as you walked into the fray, blade already swinging. three clean arcs. no wasted motion. the wolves fell without even a snarl. your avatar—broad-shouldered, practical, with short dark hair and a jawline like it was carved by someone very tired—stood tall against the dappled light.

satoru’s avatar blinked slowly up at you. perfect mark.

he mashed the sparkle emote.

“waaah~ thankyuuuu~ i was totally gonna diiie~ you saved meee~ teehee~”

you stared. then crouched, dropping a low-tier potion by his feet.

his real grin stretched wide. “ehhh? you’re sooo nice~ i ran out of everythiiing~ do you maybe have a few moreee?”

you paused. then dropped three more. silent.

he squealed for real. in real life, he kicked his feet against the desk.

“i love you,” he breathed through the mic, voice mod still on. but you just nodded once.

and left.

or tried to. satoru scrambled after you like a glittery barnacle. every time you stopped to check your map, his dainty avatar would sit cross-legged behind you, hands folded in her lap. if you set traps, he’d walk directly into them with the most tragic whimper you’d ever heard.

you always helped.

he couldn’t believe how easy it was.

on the third day, he managed to scam your epic raid-earned sword out of you with a long, high-pitched plea and a sparkly spin.

“n-noo~ i feel sooo baddd~ i’m scamming youuu~!!!” he cried, while pressing confirm before you could blink.

and you just... nodded.

no mic. not once had he heard your voice.

but you always turned to face him. always healed him. always gave a little wave at the end of a dungeon. sometimes you’d do a silly dance emote if he pretended to cry hard enough.

he was on top of the world.

until the boss hunt.

he was half-tempted to ghost you when the invite came in. but... he liked the attention. and the freebies. so he showed up, sparkles and all. actually tried a little. even dodged once or twice.

afterward, when the rare loot dropped, he waited for you to start dividing it.

instead, you traded it all to him. the legendary cloak. the mount egg. the enhancement cores. he stared at the trade window, then at your avatar. you stood still, like a sentry carved from obsidian.

his fingers hovered over the confirm button.

“w-wait, are you sure? i don’t— i don’t deserve all this—”

he flicked on the sparkle emote again, panicking.

but you only bowed gently. then waved.

then disappeared.

he stared at the empty space where your avatar had been.

“…what the hell,” he muttered, voice modulator still on.

then, real voice: quiet, almost pouting. “what the hell.”

he sat down in the same mossy spot, skirt fluttering in the still forest air. around him, players sprinted past in the distance, gear clinking, birds chirped lazily, a low-level bard sang off-key to a party of two, while an animated slime NPC bounced in slow circles nearby. the world went on, coded and infinite.

satoru stayed frozen.

then, slowly, he typed.

“did u mean to give me all that stuff?”

an hour passed. the sky dimmed from golden dusk to violet evening. fireflies blinked in and out between fern leaves. his cereal had gone completely soggy.

then:

“yes. u looked happy.”

his visor fogged a little. his fingers paused on the keyboard.

he didn’t log off for another four hours. just sat there, tiny legs swinging off the ledge, face pink.

slightly smiling.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“The Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets”

This week only, Barnes and Noble is offering 25% off pre-orders of my forthcoming novel Picks and Shovels. ENDS TODAY!.

While we truly live in an age of ascendant monsters who have hijacked our country, our economy, and our imaginations, there is one consolation: the small cohort of brilliant, driven writers who have these monsters' number, and will share it with us. Writers like Maureen Tkacik:

https://prospect.org/topics/maureen-tkacik/

Journalists like Wired's Vittoria Elliott, Leah Feiger, and Tim Marchman are absolutely crushing it when it comes to Musk's DOGE coup:

https://www.wired.com/author/vittoria-elliott/

And Nathan Tankus is doing incredible work all on his own, just blasting out scoop after scoop:

https://www.crisesnotes.com/

But for me, it was Tkacik – as usual – in the pages of The American Prospect who pulled it all together in a way that finally made it make sense, transforming the blitzkreig Muskian chaos into a recognizable playbook. While most of the coverage of Musk's wrecking crew has focused on the broccoli-haired Gen Z brownshirts who are wilding through the server rooms at giant, critical government agencies, Tkacik homes in on their boss, Tom Krause, whom she memorably dubs "the Fagin figure leading Elon Musk’s merry band of pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" (I told you she was a great writer!):

https://prospect.org/power/2025-02-06-private-equity-hatchet-man-leading-lost-boys-of-doge/

Krause is a private equity looter. He's the guy who basically invented the playbook for PE takeovers of large tech companies, from Broadcom to Citrix to VMWare, converting their businesses from selling things to renting them out, loading them up with junk fees, slashing quality, jacking up prices over and over, and firing everyone who was good at their jobs. He is a master enshittifier, an enshittification ninja.

Krause has an unerring instinct for making people miserable while making money. He oversaw the merger of Citrix and VMWare, creating a ghastly company called The Cloud Software Group, which sold remote working tools. Despite this, of his first official acts was to order all of his employees to stop working remotely. But then, after forcing his workers to drag their butts into work, move back across the country, etc, he reversed himself because he figured out he could sell off all of the company's office space for a tidy profit.

Krause canceled employee benefits, like thank you days for managers who pulled a lot of unpaid overtime, or bonuses for workers who upgraded their credentials. He also ended the company's practice of handing out swag as small gifts to workers, and then stiffed the company that made the swag, wontpaying a $437,574.97 invoice for all the tchotchkes the company had ordered. That's not the only supplier Krause stiffed: FinLync, a fintech company with a three-year contract with Krause's company, also had to sue to get paid.

Krause's isn't a canny operator who roots out waste: he's a guy who tears out all the wiring and then grudgingly restores the minimum needed to keep the machine running (no wonder Musk loves him, this is the Twitter playbook). As Tkacik reports, Krause fucked up the customer service and reliability systems that served Citrix's extremely large, corporate customers – the giant businesses that cut huge monthly checks to Citrix, whose CIOs received daily sales calls from his competitors.

Workers who serviced these customers, like disabled Air Force veteran David Morgan, who worked with big public agencies, were fired on one hour's notice, just before their stock options vested. The giant public agency customers he'd serviced later called him to complain that the only people they could get on the phone were subcontractors in Indian call centers who lacked the knowledge and authority to resolve their problems.

Last month, Citrix fired all of its customer support engineers. Citrix's military customers are being illegally routed to offshore customer support teams who are prohibited from working with the US military.

Citrix/VMWare isn't an exception. The carnage at these companies is indistinguishable from the wreck Krause made of Broadcom. In all these cases, Krause was parachuted in by private equity bosses, and he destroyed something useful to extract a giant, one-time profit, leaving behind a husk that no longer provides value to its customers or its employees.

This is the DOGE playbook. It's all about plunder: take something that was patiently, carefully built up over generations and burn it to the ground, warming yourself in the pyre, leaving nothing behind but ash. This is what private equity plunderers have been doing to the world's "advanced" economies since the Reagan years. They did it to airlines, family restaurants, funeral homes, dog groomers, toy stores, pharma, palliative care, dialysis, hospital beds, groceries, cars, and the internet.

Trump's a plunderer. He was elected by the plunderer class – like the crypto bros who want to run wild, transforming workers' carefully shepherded retirement savings into useless shitcoins, while the crypto bros run off with their perfectly cromulent "fiat" money. Musk is the apotheosis of this mindset, a guy who claims credit for other peoples' productive and useful businesses, replacing real engineering with financial engineering. Musk and Krause, they're like two peas in a pod.

That's why – according to anonymous DOGE employees cited by Tckacik – DOGE managers are hired for their capacity for cruelty: "The criteria for DOGE is how many you have fired, how much you enjoy firing people, and how little you care about the impact on peoples well being…No wonder Tom Krause was tapped for this. He’s their dream employee!"

The fact that Krause isn't well known outside of plunderer circles is absolutely a feature for him, not a bug. Scammers like Krause want to be admitted to polite society. This is why the Sacklers – the opioid crime family that kicked off the Oxy pandemic that's murdered more than 800,000 Americans so far – were so aggressive about keeping their association with their family business, Purdue Pharma, a secret. The Sacklers only wanted to be associated with the art galleries and museums they put their names over, and their lawyers threatened journalists for writing about their lives as billionaire drug pushers (I got one of those threats).

There's plenty of good reasons to be anonymous – if you're a whistleblower, say. But if you ever encounter a corporate executive who insists on anonymity, that's a wild danger sign. Take Pixsy, the scam "copyleft trolls" whose business depends on baiting people into making small errors when using images licensed under very early versions of the Creative Common licenses, and then threatening to sue them unless they pay hundreds or thousands of dollars:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

Kain Jones, the CEO of Pixsy, tried to threaten me under the EU's GDPR for revealing the names of the scammer on his payroll who sent me a legal threat, and the executive who ran the scam for his business (I say he tried to threaten me because I helped lobby for the GDPR and I know for a fact that this isn't a GDPR violation):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/

These people understand that they are in the business of ripping people off, causing them grave and wholly unjust financial injury. They value their secrecy because they are in the business of making strangers righteously furious, and they understand that one of these strangers might just show up in their lives someday to confront them about their transgressions.

This is why Unitedhealthcare freaked out so hard about Luigi Mangione's assassination of CEO Brian Thompson – that's not how the game is supposed to be played. The people who sit in on executive row, destroying your lives, are supposed to be wholly insulated from the consequences of their actions. You're not supposed to know who they are, you're not supposed to be able to find them – of course.

But even more importantly, you're not supposed to be angry at them. They pose as mere software agents in an immortal colony organism called a Limited Liability Corporation, bound by the iron law of shareholder supremacy to destroy your life while getting very, very rich. It's not supposed to be personal. That's why Unitedhealthcare is threatening to sue a doctor who was yanked out of surgery on a cancer patient to be berated by a UHC rep for ordering a hospital stay for her patient:

https://gizmodo.com/unitedhealthcare-is-mad-about-in-luigi-we-trust-comments-under-a-doctors-viral-post-2000560543

UHC is angry that this surgeon, Austin's Dr Elisabeth Potter, went Tiktok-viral with her true story of how how chaotic and depraved and uncaring UHC is. UHC execs fear that Mangione made it personal, that he obliterated the accountability sink of the corporation and put the blame squarely where it belongs – on the (mostly) men at the top who make this call.

This is a point Adam Conover made in his latest Factually podcast, where he interviewed Propublica's T Christian Miller and Patrick Rucker:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_5tDXRw8kg

Miller and Rucker published a blockbuster investigative report into Cigna's Evocore, a secret company that offers claims-denials as a service to America's biggest health insurers:

https://www.propublica.org/article/evicore-health-insurance-denials-cigna-unitedhealthcare-aetna-prior-authorizations

If you're the CEO of a health insurance company and you don't like how much you're paying out for MRIs or cancer treatment, you tell Evocore (which processes all your claim authorizations) and they turn a virtual dial that starts to reduce the number of MRIs your customers are allowed to have. This dial increases the likelihood that a claim or pre-authorization will be denied, which, in turn, makes doctors less willing to order them (even if they're medically necessary) and makes patients more likely to pay for them out of pocket.

Towards the end of the conversation, Miller and Rucker talk about how the rank-and-file people at an insurer don't get involved with the industry to murder people in order to enrich their shareholders. They genuinely want to help people. But executive row is different: those very wealthy people do believe their job is to kill people to save money, and get richer. Those people are personally to blame for the systemic problem. They are the ones who design and operate the system.

That's why naming the people who are personally responsible for these immoral, vicious acts is so important. That's why it's important that Wired and Propublica are unmasking the "pubescent sovereignty pickpockets" who are raiding the federal government under Krause's leadership:

https://projects.propublica.org/elon-musk-doge-tracker/

These people are committing grave crimes against the nation and its people. They should be known for this. It should follow them for the rest of their lives. It should be the lead in their obituaries. People who are introduced to them at parties should have a flash of recognition, hastily end the handshake, then turn on their heels and race to the bathroom to scrub their hands. For the rest of their lives.

Naming these people isn't enough to stop the plunder, but it helps. Yesterday, Marko Elez, the 25 year old avowed "eugenicist" who wanted to "normalize Indian hate" and could not be "[paid] to marry outside of my ethnicity," was shown the door. He's off the job. For the rest of his life, he will be the broccoli-haired brownshirt who got fired for his asinine, racist shitposting:

https://www.npr.org/2025/02/06/nx-s1-5289337/elon-musk-doge-treasury

After Krause's identity as the chief wrecker at DOGE was revealed, the brilliant Anna Merlan (author of Republic of Lies, the best book on conspiratorialism), wrote that "Now the whole country gets the experience of what it’s like when private equity buys the place you work":

https://bsky.app/profile/annamerlan.bsky.social/post/3lhepjkudcs2t

That's exactly it. We are witnessing a private equity-style plunder of the entire US government – of the USA itself. No one is better poised to write about this than Tkacik, because no one has private equity's number like Tkacik does:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

Ironically, all this came down just as Trump announced that he was going to finally get rid of private equity's scammiest trick, the "carried interest" loophole that lets PE bosses (and, to a lesser extent, hedge fund managers) avoid billions in personal taxes:

https://archive.is/yKhvD

"Carried interest" has nothing to do with the interest rate – it's a law that was designed for 16th century sea captains who had an "interest" in the cargo they "carried":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/29/writers-must-be-paid/#carried-interest

Trump campaigned on killing this loophole in 2017, but Congress stopped him, after a lobbying blitz by the looter industry. It's possible that he genuinely wants to get rid of the carried interest loophole – he's nothing if not idiosyncratic, as the residents of Greenland can attest:

https://prospect.org/world/2025-02-07-letter-between-friendly-nations/

Even if he succeeds, looters and the "investor class" will get a huge giveaway under Trump, in the form of more tax giveaways and the dismantling of labor and environmental regulation. But it's far more likely that he won't succeed. Rather – as Yves Smith writes for Naked Capitalism – he'll do what he did with the Canada and Mexico tariffs: make a tiny, unimportant change and then lie and say he had done something revolutionary:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2025/02/is-trump-serious-about-trying-to-close-the-private-equity-carried-interest-loophole.html

This has been a shitty month, and it's not gonna get better for a while. On my dark days, I worry that it won't get better during my lifetime. But at least we have people like Tkacik to chronicle it, explain it, put it in context. She's amazing, a whirlwind. The same day that her report on Krause dropped, the Prospect published another must-read piece by her, digging deep into Alex Jones's convoluted bankruptcy gambit:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-02-06-crisis-actors-alex-jones-bankruptcy/

It lays bare the wild world of elite bankruptcy court, another critical conduit for protecting the immoral rich from their victims. The fact that Tkacik can explain both Krause and the elite bankruptcy system on the same day is beyond impressive.

We've got a lot of work ahead of ourselves. The people in charge of this system – whose names you must learn and never forget – aren't going to go easily. But at least we know who they are. We know what they're doing. We know how the scam works. It's not a flurry of incomprehensible actions – it's a playbook that killed Red Lobster, Toys R Us, and Sears. We don't have to follow that playbook.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/07/broccoli-hair-brownshirts/#shameless

[natashashill]

tell me you love me

pairing: agatha harkness x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ angst, hurt/comfort, cunnilingus, thigh riding, happy ending

a/n: this was my first time writing smut so tell me if it sucks so i can improve lowk but i have some more reqs to get to so hopefully it’s only up from here!!!

summary: based on this req

Opening up the text, you couldn’t focus on anything else for the rest of the day. Agatha’s text was vague, asking you to meet by the campus cafe once you were done with your classes. Her text lacked its usual warmness, something that was reserved for you alone. You turned your phone off immediately after shooting off a quick confirmation, trying to focus on your upcoming meeting with Professor Maximoff, who never tolerated distractions. You were so close to finishing your senior project, and her guidance is crucial to helping you finish.

The meeting flies by, with the two of you reviewing source material necessary for the finishing touches on this presentation. Soon enough, you were packing up your things and getting ready to head to the cafe. You check your phone for any other messages from Agatha, but there were none. You make your way to class with a slight frown, a funny feeling in your stomach deeping with every step made.

You see her sitting at a corner table, eyebrows furrowed as she stares at her phone. You take a few hesistant steps towards her, until she can see you. Her head slowly raises, a small smile gracing her face but it fails to meet her eyes. She gets up to meet you in a hug and waits until you both place your orders before saying anything.

“Y/N, I know that you’re about to graduate and I just need to say this now and get this out of the way. You’re such a smart girl with such a bright future ahead of you and my precious girl, I cannot be the one to hold you back. I’ve seen the way you worked so hard for this degree and I refuse to hold you back. I love you so much sweetheart, but you have your entire life ahead of you. You have all this time to explore the world and meet new people, and I know it will be a matter of time before this comes to the end. I don’t want this to end bitterly, I love you so much and I have only love for you. I will always cherish you and be rooting for you, but I can’t keep seeing you anymore, I need to let you go.”

You stare blankly at her while your brain starts to process what she just said. Almost at perfect timing, your server comes back with your orders, and she drops eye contact to focus on her drink. Your eyes start to well up with tears and suddenly your throat feels extremely dry.

“Agatha, I don’t want to break up with you. I love you, I only love you. I don’t want anyone else in my life, but you. I couldn’t have made it through this year without you, I can’t imagine my life without you now.”

She looks up at you with a watery smile, but you can tell she’s made up her mind. Your heart plummets at the thought of the situation. You start to replay all your moments in the head.

The movie nights at her place after she came back from work and picked you up from college along the way. Your head on her shoulder as you both giggled through another cheesy romcom and shared a pint of ice cream.

Your birthday, where she pulled out all the stops to make you feel cherished. Inviting all your friends and planning a special party, where you ended up going to a beautiful dinner before returning to a surprise party with all your closest friends. You knew she was behind the entire thing especially when she came up to you with a small box at the end of the night containing a small necklace with a heart pendant that you haven’t taken off since.

You slowly go to grasp the necklace when you realize what she’s doing, paying the bill. You hear her say that she knows you won’t understand right now but she loves you and is looking out for you. You face the window as she exits, not willing to believe that she’s truly walking out on you right now, six weeks before you were graduating.

You blew up her phone for the next week when you realized what she had actually meant but you received nothing from her. No texts, no calls, and not a single voicemail. Two weeks later, she sends you single text stating how much she loves you yet she cannot continue to be with you when you have your whole life ahead of you. At that, you cry. You cry and cry and cry and mourn all the good times you have had that she seemingly gave up on.

—------

Three months have passed, and you still can’t get her out of your mind. You graduated, she sent you a bouquet of flowers with a congratulations note you couldn’t bear to throw away. It sat tucked away in a small corner of your bedroom until it died, where you could throw it away without another hesitation, although you did save the card, not that you would ever admit it. You started your first job, now stuck in a cycle of long days, before mustering the last of your energy into making something to eat and passing out until the next morning at 6am sharp. You mourn the love you used to have with Agatha, how lively everything was with her, and her encouragement that would set you ready for whatever you needed to face.

Agatha wasn’t doing any better. Her days became increasingly longer since she decided to end things with you. She couldn’t stomach her thoughts, wondering if you replaced her yet, someone new and younger who was more worthy of your affection. She knew deep down that she made the worst decision of her life by ending things with you but she couldn’t escape the thoughts that made her feel that maybe she was saving herself from the heartbreak that would have occurred if she waited until you met someone else. She avoided everything that had anything to do with you, too afraid that she could run into you while you’re with someone else, not even eating the same ice cream brand anymore. Her work days became increasingly longer, hoping that she could avoid the outside world, and hopefully you.

Her co-workers drag her out one Friday, deeming that she works to hard and needs to get out more. They drag her to a local karaoke bar where she immediately beelines to the bar, ordering a double shot of tequila and a lime. She started to loosen up for the first time in three months, starting to forget about you. Her time came next, choosing to sing Shallow. Just as she finishes wrapping up the song, she sees someone enter, someone who just happens to be you. She hurriedly exits off the stage, hoping you wouldn’t notice her. She orders another drink and nurses it, hoping you wouldn’t recognize her there. Unexpectedly, she hears your voice next to her as you order out a martini, and she hesitantly lifts her head up.

Interestingly, your friends decided that evening would have been the perfect time to reconnect through all of their busy schedules. You dressed up for the first time since graduation, hoping that you would finally be able to focus on anything but her.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your head whips around faster than it ever has, and all of your pre-gaming efforts went out the window as you lock eyes with her. You’re unable to speak, but you notice her. The subtle differences, how dimmed her eyes look now, how her eyebags grew. You manage to slip out a simple hello when you realize you’ve been staring at her for quite a bit now.

She reaches out towards your hand on the bar, stopping her hand right before yours, hesitant knowing she doesn’t have the right to reach out to you anymore.

“How are you sweetheart?”

“I’ve missed you”

Oh.

You shouldn’t have said that, but you couldn’t help but blurt it out. Her eyes have always been hypnotizing to you, and you couldn’t help but be putty around her. Your gaze quickly drops to where your hands are before slowly returning to her face, catching the way she’s looking at you hungrily. You have just a second before she leans in closer and kisses you. You kiss her back, arms wrapping around her and moving closer, you hope you never have to break apart.

Her arms wrap around your waist as she stands up and tugs you closer. Her lips capturing your bottom lip before leaving your mouth entirely.

“I’ve missed you too sweetheart, so much my darling.”

That’s all it takes for you to bring your lips back to hers. She kisses back for a second before slowly pulling back and leaving you with a small pout. She chuckles but takes a long look around making sure her co workers are thoroughly distracted, before gently moving towards your ear.

“Come home with me baby, even if it’s just for tonight, let me make you mine again.”

You let out a small gasp before whispering a small yes. You see the smile return to her face, the same way it always used to be. She covers both of your tabs before ushering you to her car, focused on getting you both home as soon as possible.

She just barely gets the front door open before you’re on her again. Lips desperately meeting hers and she kisses you back just as desperate. Her hands meet your waist again and she guides you both towards the couch. She lays you down before breaking the kiss, hands making their way towards the hem of your shirt, making a single tug, eyes meeting yours in a silent question. You nod and she starts unbuttoning your shirt, leaving small kisses and praises as she goes. After eagerly throwing your shirt somewhere you’d have to search for tomorrow, she goes straight to unhooking your bra. You look down at her with your eyes half-liddled, practically keening in anticipation with what she’s doing but to your temporary disappointment, she makes her way back up to your lips.

She meets you in a harsh kiss before making her way down to your neck. She starts sucking harshly and you let out a breathy moan, letting your hands get tangled in her hair. She makes her way down to your tits, lightly teasing one of your nipples with her tongue, before wrapping her lips around it and gently sucking. Your hands tighten around her hair and press her closer. She brings one hand to twirl and twist around your other nipple while bringing the other closer to your pant zipper. She takes your nipple out of her mouth with a small pop. She quickly unzips your pants before bringing them down leaving you bare with just your panties. You lock eyes with her as your hands untangle from her hair and move along her back until the reach the zipper of her dress. She gives you a small nod before you quickly unzip the dress. She busies herself back in your neck in the meanwhile, leaving marks that you’ll have a hard time justifying to your friends when they see it the next day. Leaning back to step out of the dress, she slowly removes her own bra for your enjoyment, savoring the look on your face as her tits come into your view. She leans eye level with your crotch, lightly rubbing your clit through your soaked panties.

Another moan escapes you and your hips involuntarily buck upwards, desperate for more. She softly slides your panties to the side, before slowly licking a stripe up your core. The first taste of you makes her desperate and suddenly she’s harsher than before. She places one arm at your hips to prevent you from moving, while they other goes to keep your thighs apart. Her tongue swirls around your clit before bringing her lips down and harshly sucking a few times. You can’t stop the moans that leave you and you bring your hands back into her hair, lightly pushing her head closer to where you need it. She doesn’t relent, lips harshly suckking your clit before slipping her tongue inside your core. Your fingers tighten around her hair and you feel the vibrations from her moan against you. She focuses back on your clit, sucking and teasing before slipping a finger into your core. She starts to pump her finger in and out, and your moans grow increasingly louder. Your fingers tighten in her hair, your thighs start to shake, and she knows your close. She adds in a second finger, sucks extremely hard on your clit, and suddenly you’re falling apart for her. She works you through the aftershocks, lightly pumping in and out while whispering sweet praise, before removing her fingers and bringing them up to her lips to taste. She catches the look in your eye and she sends you a small wink while gently rubbing her other hand against your thigh soothingly.

As she stands up, you let out a soft whine of displeasure to which she shushes you softly. She gently leads you upstairs to her bed, settling you in the center and slipping out of her panties before making her way to join you. Your lips meet once again in a passionate embrace and her hands hold your face as if you could slip away any second. Every moan that leaks through only spurs her more as she straddles one of your legs. She starts rocking her hips and your hands attempt to guide them, before she pulls them away and pins them over your head. The new angle gives her a better angle as she rocks her hips and her hair drapes over her face. The sight is too much for you to handle and you wish you could frame how she looks in this moment. Spurred on by your eager gaze, it doesn’t take long for Agatha to call you her desperate slut and push her leg closer to your center. Her degradation only turns you on more and you eagerly buck your hips against her thigh, desperately seeking whatever friction she allows you. Agatha watches you desperately hump her, the sight only pushing her closer to her climax. Pressing her knee right at your core, she eagerly watches as your face twists in please and it only takes another second for you to reach your peak. Watching you come undone, sends her over the edge as well and she breathes out a desperate I love you while she comes. She drops slightly next to you, out of breath but refusing to take her eyes off of you. She looks up at you with a soft smile and sweetly asks you to stay, and you knew you couldn’t resist her. You settled against her chest with the covers wrapped around you both and when your eyes started to droop, you didn’t resist.

Everything came crashing the next morning when you woke up to an empty bed. You look around desperately, hoping that there’s still a chance she may be in the bathroom or the kitchen. When you hear nothing, tears start cascading down your cheeks rapidly. You check for a note but there’s nothing and you can’t wrap your head around the fact that she just left you alone. Wrapping the covers around you, you start to sob and bring back all the hurt and pain that you felt when she first broke up with you. Suddenly, you hear keys rattling in the door and you rush downstairs as she’s entering the door. She drops her bags at the sight of your tear-streaked face and engulfs you in a hug as you reach her. Your sobs turn into wails as you bury your face in her neck. She rocks you both gently while whispering sweet nothings hoping to soothe you slightly. She gently pulls you away before reaching to wipe your tears.

“My darling girl, what happened? What’s gotten you so upset this early in the morning?”

You take a deep breath as you attempt to answer and she gently rubs your back encouraging you to speak.

“I thought you left me again. I woke up and you weren’t there and there wasn’t a note or anything saying you would come back and I thought you wanted me gone. I don’t want to be gone, I wanted to wake up in your arms again. I missed having you with me, I hate every day that I don’t get to be with you, and I wanted you back. I assumed that you thought this was going to be a mistake and that we can’t see each other again anymore. I love you so much and I want you to love me back.”

You look up to see tears glistening in Agatha’s eyes as she takes in your words. She gently cradles your face in her hands before speaking.

“My love, I’m sorry I haven’t made things clearer for you. I love you so much, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire time we were apart. It was my own insecurities that lead me to break things off with you. I refused to believe that you would still want me after you graduated, that you would see past this infatuation and find someone who’s more your age. I didn’t realize the extent to which I woud hurt you and for that I can’t even begin to apologize. As for last night, I have to admit, I was worried about where to go from here, but I don’t think I can leave you again. You mean too much to me for me to walk away again and I want you to stay with me for as long as you wish. My intention this morning was never to leave you alone, I went on a quick grocery run to get ingredients for breakfast in case you were willing to stay. I’m so sorry you woke up alone my love but I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”

You don’t respond but you fall right into her arms again, allowing yourself to fall and trusting her to take care of you. She knows that you love her just as much and that you will talk more on this later, but she focuses on making sure you’re alright and letting the future deal with itself. She guides you back to bed, bringing you back under the covers and wrapped safely in her arms as you start to drift asleep. She presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before letting sleep claim her as well.

notes: i absolutely adored this prompt so thank you to whoever sent it in. i hope this is okay and everything you could hope for!

[unknownmads]

thinking about dilf kiri😋😋

dilf kiri who’s officially hit his fourties face scruffy, body squishy, full of scars and stretch marks from years of being japan’s shield, and dark roots grown out from growing tired of redying it.

dilf kiri who hasn’t dated since his ex wife, divorcing because being a hero took too much time. Whose two girls adore him but their distance growing as they too age.

dilf kiri who is clearly too old for you but can’t help your attraction to him. having just started working at the cafe/ restaurant your friend owned near the red riots’s agency and lucky you did. you immediately recognized the big man, even with his hair grown out black overtaking his old red, face and arms littered with scars, bulkier with his age, out of his hero suit in something seemingly more comfortable, but same bright smile, red eyes, and same warms aura surrounding him.

dilf kiri who comes in with some of his buddies preaching about how much he loves this place. saying no other cafe compares with the atmosphere, drink, and treats. his friends making comments saying no wonder he’s gotten bulkier if he’s going here so often. you didn’t know he goes here often otherwise you would’ve started here MUCH sooner.

dilf kiri who comes up to order asking for a simple latte and croissant breakfast sandwich, your eyes taking in as much of him as you can before it’s his friends turns to order. one blonde with a black streak ordering a small box of treats and tea. The other blonde ordering a latte as well asking for extra expresso and a breakfast sandwich of his own. before heading back to his table takes a long gaze at you before smiling his signature smile “hey your new here aren’t you? i don’t think i’ve seen you working before!” you almost collapse from excitement from his very simple comment.

“Yea i just started today! hopefully you’ll be seeing more of me here!” you try to reply matching his cheer you see his smile grow a tad more if that’s even possible.

“yea i hope so!” he replies warmly before turning tail catching up with his friends at their table. Getting started on their drinks you drink in his body as he’s walk back to their table.

dilf kiri who blushes a little when his friends tell him how the cashier was checking him out, and most definitely flirting with him. of course he’s denying such a think with a “she was just being friendly and doing her job it wasn’t that.” swatting away his friends words with a grin but almost letting his mind wander.

dilf kiri who looks back over the counter checking you out with his friends thoughts in his head. you weren’t really checking him out right?? you wouldn’t flirt with him he’s probably close to double your age. right? who blushes even more so when you turn around locking eyes you smiling at him brightly from across the cafe.

dilf kiri who tried to compose himself when he sees you come over with their food and drinks, warning them while eyeing him personally to be careful of the hot drinks.

“so will that be all for you guys?” you try to gaze around the table but your eyes almost like magnets go back to the large man in front of you.

“yea that’ll be all thank you sweetheart” he replies for the table seeing his friends almost shoving him to take the shot with their eyes.

“alright i’ll be right back with your check will you pay all together?” cheeks clearly growing red form the nickname he threw in. this time trying to ensuring you look at all three men before the two blondes stare knives at their darker haired friend.

“nah i uh i got it covered, we’ll only be needing one check.” he checks with his friends before replying to you eyes locking with yours once more.

not breaking the eye contact “alright then i’ll be right back with your check” you smile brightly again keeping his gaze for as long as possible before breaking it when you walk too far to maintain it longer.

dilf kiri who’s cheeks redden when denki talks not so quietly about how he should ask out the server. trying to shush the friends as he continues about how she’s “Totally into you and you gotta take the shot!” you stifle your laughter when overhearing the conversation.

Dilf kiri who couldn’t bring himself to ask out you when you bring over the check but is left shocked and blushing when he opens it seeing you gave him a slight discount. he chuckles at the small gesture signing the check and writing something else before hurriedly scribbling it out then, handing the check back with his card inside. your face almost bright red feeling almost too forward with your gesture.

Dilf kiri who’s equally a mess hoping his gesture wasn’t too much or taking your signs wrong. Seeing that he hadn’t taken them wrong at all when he received his receipt seeing your number scribbled on it with your name under the digits. you quickly try to push out a “let me know if you boys need anything else!” before practically running back behind the counter.

dilf kiri who tells his friends to go ahead of him when they finish up their drinks and treats. telling them he’ll catch up in a minute as he heads to the counter.

“y/n.” your head spins around hearing your names seeing the tall man waiting at the counter for you.

“yes kirishima!” you quickly respond spinning around quickly to lock eyes with his almost spilling your drink in the process. his big hands reaching out to your arm to help balance you. blush growing in your face from his touch and realizing you outed that you knew him. “i’m so sor-“ you were cut off by his speaking before you could finish

“no it’s okay sweetheart, you okay?” he says referring to the almost spill which you quickly respond yes before he continues “well i’m glad you know my name, i actually just when i came to tell you. i’ll be sure to text you k?” soaring off his new found confidence given so graciously by you just from your reactions. you nod excitedly a soft smile on your lips confirming you heard him. He’s smiling brightly and heading out the door with a quick “see you soon!” but not before staring you down taking you in one last time before heading to catch up with his friends.

Dilf kiri who shoots you a text as soon as he leaves your cafe *hey it’s kirishima, when are you off so i can take you out?* you giggle like a school girl borderline like a maniac when reading the text practically feeling like you could fly.

✩✩✩

lmk what yall think i need lots of feedback so i know how to improve and better!!! HOPE YOU GUSY ENJOY!! IM GONNA DO MORE PRISON TOJI NEXT :3

[ivorysmp]

Ivory SMP is an 18+ whitelist-only Minecraft server rooted in cosmic horror, narrative survival, and the kind of storytelling that lingers with you long after you log off. This isn’t your average SMP—we don’t do fast-paced grindfests or throwaway lore.

Ivory is quiet dread. Slow decay. A world that feels like it’s always watching.

The land is beautiful in that haunting way old churches and abandoned towns are. Stories grow here like mold in the walls—if you know where to look. Your character is part of something bigger: a strange, sprawling mystery that unfolds in real time, shaped by the choices you make and the secrets you uncover.

We’re a community of writers, builders, and roleplayers who crave something a little darker. A little slower. A little more alive.

This server will not hold your hand. It will leave the light on. And then it will ask if you’ve seen what’s living in the walls.

If you’re an adult who loves immersive storytelling, unsettling vibes, and the slow burn of a world that remembers, you might have just found your place.

Ivory SMP is open. The world is waiting. Are you ready to listen to what it’s saying?

This being said, We are very lgbtq+ friendly, and a very small server that’s still looking to grow!

[kitsunecrows]

an ode to my roots <3 (more under the cut!)

hihi friends! a lot of busy changes and big updates have been happening in my life, but throughout it all, i just want to earnestly, genuinely thank everyone on here for making this a safe space i can feel at home on throughout it all :,)

on one hand, i thought of celebrating a big follower milestone i hit just today, or even the absolute hilarity that is how that one random sdvn sketch somehow blew up without warning (or even the fact that my birthday is coming up in T-minus a few hours!!), but, i realized that beyond that, i don’t even need a reason to want to give back and engage more w this community :,3 i just love it so much that i wanna remember to have fun w the little things along the way note: i'm new to a LOT of these ideas here^ so any boosts and all tips/tricks/advice would be greatly appreciated! im literally babey jhelp me gddhhdj

no matter in what stage of my life or fandom you may have met me in/through, i truly appreciate your presence, silliness, and support :,,3 even though im not always super active d/t being a full-time sleep-deprived uni student (save meeee), having this community to lean on and learn from keeps me going. and for that, i thank you so much /gen. i love you guys!

love, kit ✍️

psst, i have also opened a kofi! tbh i still dk how it works but. it would be so cool if u wanna drop by and say hi or share what u can; any and all support will help me as a student! thank you again <3

✨🌱✨🌱✨🌱✨

more on the characters featured in this little self-indulgent spread (note: these barely scratch the surface of my boundless interests; they just happen to be the few that got me going on tumblr hehe)

a homage to my first tododeku sketch and actually my first ever digital piece on an iPad from like. five years ago! more art of them and other characters under my #bnha tag!!

my #undertale posts, esp of my fav chara <3 cheers to the friends I have made both here and beyond and how this game teaches me what it means to live and to love (beep boop looper @ilikeflowey)

that one #toh warmup sketch of wittewife that blew up out of nowhere LOLLL i was never expecting it (if u want u could totally give this raine one some more love I really enjoyed making it!)

the besties from #beetlejuice the musical (the musical the musical) they are absolute menaces hehe :,) I watched the show live about two years ago and it changed my life FOREVER I cried in the stands

and ofc, my latest interest, #sdvn from #crk as u can probably tell from my past like. 10 posts... (I cannot stop drawing blue and gold guys HELP) anywaysssss hahah im behind on reading #jambound but im catching up to ch 30; please know u can find me screaming and crying to it any time in our dedicated community tab alongside @ilikerosesalot

if you've read this far, id love to hear more about how u found my page! feel free to say hi in dm's or even in comments/tags!!

love u guys <3 ciao (again)! -kit

[01zfan]

contact pt. 2

ex!shotaro x ex!reader | 10.6k words

the part two literally two people asked for. i can't help that i can't get shotaro out of my mind especially THIS shotaro.

contains: breaking up, exes with benefits, miscommunication, mushy gushy stuff, and comfort from not busy diners and soup-and-sandwich specials

contact: part 1 | part 2

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose. 

You met him on an impromptu journey of self discovery that lead you to the diner off campus. You thought you’d devise a plan to become a person that put themselves out there in the comfort of the place you went to nearly every day. Craft yourself a new personality over the best soup-and-sandwich lunch special the town had to offer, one of the few places that was so uninhabited you often got the entire place to yourself. 

The closest thing you had to a friend was Giselle, the part time server that had mainly night classes. Your opposing schedules made it so you could never really hang out, but you admittedly preferred it that way. You two had an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that your lives were total opposites. On Giselle’s Instagram you found out that she was involved in nightlife and other things beyond your single dorm. On your Instagram she found out you were never going to go to a party even if you seemed to really consider an invitation. 

You liked the relationship you had with her currently, small doses of you in the form of sitting at your table between stretches of dead periods in the diner or when she was on break. That was probably the manifestation of another problem you had, but that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that you had uncharacteristically built such a rapport with someone to the point that they knew your name, what spot in the diner you liked, and what you were going to order. 

Giselle brought you your food and sat across from you in the booth seat. She messed with the end of her high ponytail. Being friends with Giselle was easy. She didn’t hide anything, you didn’t know if she even knew how to. When you started at her blonde roots down to the cotton candy pink hair carding through her fingers you wanted to ask if it was damaged. When she sighed heavily you knew something was wrong. A perfect opening for conversation, so you didn’t have to force her to sit in silence with you.

“Long day?” You asked.

“Long week.” She answered.

“It’s only Tuesday.” You said.

“Tell me about it.” Giselle sighed again, putting her head in one hand as her other continued messing with her hair. You turned your plate towards her, offering the other half of your cranberry chicken sandwich. Giselle reached forward and dug her fingernails into one half to tear it into two pieces. She took the smaller portion. “I can’t wait for this week to be over.”

You nodded your head knowingly. If anyone had the right to be tired, it was Giselle. Between her involvement on campus, her work schedule, and her nightlife you didn’t know how she did it all. 

“When are you off work?” You asked.

“In like twenty minutes. But,” Giselle brought her hands to her eyes and rubbed them profusely. “Shotaro is coming so we can talk about. Something.” She said.

Giselle had the habit of thinking you knew the same people she did. More often than not she would mention someone’s name in passing, each time you would have to remind your friend you very much did not know who the person was. So when Giselle mentioned Shotaro, the one who was in her financial analyst class, you still shook your head.

“I’ve never met him.” You said.

Before Giselle could tell you an unimportant fact as if that would jog your memory, the tiny bell above the front door went off. Giselle turned around before you could peer over her shoulder to see who came in. She checked her watch, turning the loose band on her wrist so she could see the time.

“You’re early.” She chided.

“Had to get here before you left like last time.” He said.

Shotaro’s hand went to Giselle’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. You didn’t even get a chance to assume that they were together before he was already looking to you with curiosity. You don’t know why it made the hairs on the back of your neck raise, but you’d come to find out that being at the receiving end of Shotaro’s attention would always make you feel that way.

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose. 

Giselle always made sure to emphasize that when she told the story of how she brought you two together. She became your self-appointed love guru and wing woman when she told Shotaro about you like you weren’t sitting right in front of them. She patted herself on the back for keeping the conversation going when you would get nervous and stop talking. She always bragged about how she was able to set up a date between her two friends right before the dinner rush at her work.

Because you met Shotaro through Giselle, and you met in the diner you always came to, he became the de facto third person in previous duo with Giselle. Purely on technicality, and it made sense because the two ran in the same massive social circle, and the diner was one of the few places you ventured to in your small bubble. So more than Giselle saw Shotaro through mutual friends and school mixers and non-school parties she saw him with you, shoulders touching as he whispered playfully in your ear or leaned over to show you something on his phone. 

Seeing you two together was such a common occurrence that when you showed up to the diner without him in tow, she knew something was off. When you stayed focused on your food instead of looking up at her, Giselle tried her best to be neutral.

“Where’s Shotaro?” With her eyebrows raised she leaned down to try and get you at eye level with her. “Haven’t seen him in awhile.” She said.

Her hesitancy made you think she already knew the answer. Still you focused on your food and not her, looking directly at your caprese sandwich.

“We broke up.” You answered simply.

Giselle’s eyes went wide. You were so silent it was almost overshadowed by the rest of the chatter in the diner, and you provided no other explanation. You just continued to eat your food, looking at the your plate instead of your worried friend.

“Woah.” When you only nodded in acknowledgment you felt the overwhelming concern come from your friend as she simultaneously tried to mask it. You cleared your throat and pushed your food around your plate as Giselle sputtered in front of you. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked.

Only then were you able to look up from your food. You looked right past her to watch a couple walk by your booth to be seated. You nodded, turning your focus to the bell above the front entrance past Giselle.

“I am.” You answered. 

When you had nothing else to stare at, you went back to your plate. You messed with the edge, feeling the need to prove yourself more than the need to eat.

“I broke up with him. In case you didn’t know.” You added.

You could argue that Giselle’s shocked reaction was part of the reason you called it off.

“What happened? I thought everything was going well between you guys.” She said.

There were no secrets you were keeping from her about your relationship with Shotaro, if anything you were keeping how good you had it hidden away. There was no one else in your life that was so willing to put their lifestyle on hold for you. No one who wanted to give up their weekends outside to be inside up with you, no one that was as patient or caring or warm and gentle. No one was considerate of your heart to never break it, even if you were ill-matched.

But there was the overwhelming burden that started becoming unbearable when you realized you were pulling Shotaro further and further away from his life. You had no right to keep him inside, to stop him from enjoying his youth. 

You didn’t even know that it was weighing on you so heavily until you dropped the bombshell. Randomly on a Friday night, right when Netflix asked if you were still watching and Shotaro’s phone lit up with another message from his friend asking where he was at.

“I think we should break up.” You said casually.

“Sure babe.” You could feel Shotaro’s chest vibrate against your back as he silenced his phone. 

When you didn’t reply and when you didn’t press Yes, I’m still watching his demeanor completely changed. He froze behind you, peering over your shoulder to try and get a good look at your face.

“Wait, you’re serious?” He asked.

When you still didn’t respond Shotaro got up from his spot behind you completely. You both sat up your feet dangling over the edge of the sofa as he looked at you confused. Too many times you felt like you were trying to play catch up with Shotaro. You had to constantly learn his new friends names and the birthdays and the hangouts and the parties and the cool restaurants you had no idea about. You felt sick satisfaction seeing him try to catch up to you for once. 

When your words finally settled and Netflix went back to the homepage he let out a slow breath.

“Can I ask why?” 

You felt yourself grasping at straws as you tried to find the reason. He was with you on a Friday night instead of going out to the party his friends spent a week telling him about. They were still holding out hope, not knowing that the thing indirectly keeping him in was you. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, that you were somehow yearning for something you couldn’t explain when you were doing fine on your own for so long. You only shook your head and repeated the sentiment.

“I just think we should break up.”

“I want to know why.” Shotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. He was always so patient with you. 

Not having an answer made everything worse. Walking out without saying a word was arguably even worse. You did both while Shotaro followed you around his apartment, trying to get you to talk to him.

Even the morning after the funeral you didn’t have an answer. Your body woke up in Shotaro’s bed before your mind did, surging yourself forward like you were in a nightmare. 

For a moment you panicked, blindly reaching for your phone that wasn’t there as you took in your environment. When you saw the familiar curtains and relief sunk in. But then when you really realized where you were, you panicked again.

“Good morning.”

Shotaro’s shirt was on your body, you were on his bed underneath the comforter he bought because he knew you always ran cold. He spoke to you slowly, looking at you from his desk. He eyed you from his office chair like you were unpredictable. He must’ve been right in some way, because being underneath his gaze made you want to bolt out his apartment through the window and lunge at him from your spot across the room. You tried to feign calmness, stretching like you didn’t just wake yourself up violently from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and forced a yawn, trying hard to not look Shotaro in the face.

He picked at the bottom of his shirt, the one you were wearing last night before everything transpired between the two of you.

“Should we talk about last night?” He asked.

The way he asked it told you he already knew your answer. You still shook your head, looking down at the indent you were making on his mattress.

“Probably not.” You said quietly.

“Are you going to stay for breakfast?” He asked.

Same helpless infliction in his voice when he asked the first question. You shook your head the same, eyes on your pile of clothes neatly folded next to him.

“Probably not.” You repeated.

Shotaro nodded slowly. He knew you entirely too well. He turned away from you in his chair to face the dimly lit screen of his laptop. He started writing in his journal and typing, while you brought your legs closer and closer to your body. His room seemed a little colder, the floor was freezing underneath your feet when you slid off his bed. You padded around his room heel to toe, like you were trying your hardest to not make your presence known. But Shotaro always noticed, he always looked out for you in a way that made you panic. That’s why instead of continuing to ignore you for your sake he stopped typing on his computer when you reached forward to grab your neatly folded dress. 

“You can borrow my clothes.” Shotaro said.

You nodded silently before fully grabbing your dress. You didn’t know if Shotaro wasn’t looking at you as some sort of punishment for you avoiding to look at him but you admittedly felt grateful. The way he didn’t follow you through the space made it that much easier to leave without looking back.

There was three days of radio silence before either of you reached out. 

You fully intended to wait for Shotaro to tell you to bring back his clothes, or wait for a time in your schedule during the day to return his belongings. But after you called your mother and she guilt tripped you for leaving the wake without introducing Shotaro to all of your extended family you felt shitty. Then you went and bombed your exam that you were too emotionally drained to study for. Then it got unbelievably gloomy after your last class when you forgot your keys to your dorm. You sat in the lobby of your building, waiting for RA to come back from dinner so you could actually access your room. You felt that same sinking feeling you did outside of your mother’s house when you called Shotaro that night. You felt the same sense of overwhelming wrong that you just needed something to go right, or to completely top off the terrible day you were having by being rejected by him. 

You sat in the vinyl chair as you thought about your options. You leaned back in the seat and replayed the awful day you had. Your mother calling you rude for leaving the wake early. Your teacher recommending you to come by for tutoring. Realizing when you turned your locked door that your key was waiting on the other side. Your day made you reckless, you nearly slammed your fingers on the glass screen of your phone as you typed in Shotaro’s memorized number.

hey

can i come over?

it’s ok if you say no.

You waited in the lobby of your building, watching people come in and out. You envied those who had their keys ready to go in their hands, and the ones that seemed to have their lives together.

taro: what are you coming over here to do?

nothing

only going to stay an hour

taro: doors unlocked.

When you went over to Shotaro’s house a second time, there was less talking. Once you came through his door, Shotaro quickly filled in the unsaid gaps of your impromptu visit.

You take partial blame for the way you framed your text. Telling Shotaro you were staying only an hour made it seem like your visit was a hookup, squeezed into your very busy schedule. You didn’t get the chance to tell him you were waiting for your RA to unlock your door as you two stumbled through his apartment. 

Shotaro had his hands on your face as you blindly navigated the space, his lips on yours were bruising and almost rough as your legs hit the back of his couch. When you almost fell he pulled you tightly against his body, pulling a gasp from your already depleted lungs. You breathed hot air into his mouth, and drew the breath he was trying to take in through your nose. Still no words were said as you trusted him to guide you completely, your only job was to impatiently push open the door to his bedroom when he pressed you against it.

Instead of kissing you down to his bed gently like he had done all those times before, Shotaro turned you around. Before you could catch your breath he bent you over, the side of your face pressing into his mattress while your feet were still planted on the ground. The new position and Shotaro’s strength made you croak out a choked gasp.

Before you broke his heart, he was never like this with you. He never went straight to devouring you like he was now. He never put a strong hand on the back of your head, pressing it further into the mattress as his other hand felt you up. With widened eyes you tried looking behind you, but anytime your head moved out of place Shotaro would push it slightly harder into the mattress.

“Is this okay?” He applied the lightest of pressure behind his hand again and you drew in a breath. Your fingers started helplessly messing with the stitching of his bed. Shotaro’s hand that wasn’t palming on the back of your head grabbed your ass. “Is this okay?” He repeated.

Something about speaking seemed entirely too much. The small sounds you made during sex was always an indication to Shotaro that you liked what he was doing, that you wanted him to continue. Like your labored breath and the way you were gripping his sheets for dear life wasn't a big enough sign, you nodded your head against Shotaro’s palm and preened your ass backwards. But silence wasn’t enough. You felt Shotaro’s front press to your back, his body temperature making you sweat even more. You writhed underneath him, pressing your back further against his front.

“Use your words.” You could hear the sternness in his voice as his hand left your ass. “Communication is important.”

The second part of his sentence was quieter than the first. It also left something in the air between the two of you, something that had to be cleared by you swallowing your nerves and getting the courage to speak.

“Yes,” You breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Your dynamic in bed changed that night. Shotaro was no longer the sweet doting boyfriend but the energetic fuck buddy that was seemingly on a mission to bring you to tears. With a hand on the back of your head and his handprint swelling on your ass he kept you there for what seemed like an eternity. No sweet coos, no kisses on the lips. What was supposed to be an hour stretched to four as Shotaro bit your shoulder and grunted into your ear, asking you over and over again if this was why you came over. By the end of the night you were saying yes and more until your voice was raw.

You convinced yourself that this was another reason why you two had to break up. The way Shotaro fucked you now seemed to be the way he preferred. Throwing you around, pushing your body into positions he wanted. He needed someone to fuck rather than being the gentle and patient one throughout your relationship. He must’ve been holding back for your sake, and judging by the way he wore condoms and was constantly trying new things on you, you assumed other girls around campus were getting the same treatment. You convinced yourself that he wanted to try new things on you so he was ready for the countless girls that were probably waiting for him to be on the market again.

You forced yourself to be indifferent. When he would fuck you on the couch like you were just some hookup instead of carrying you to bed, you convinced yourself that it was just sex, and sex could be had anywhere. Anytime jealousy tried to consume you at the thought of Shotaro being with other girls, you told yourself that he didn’t deserve to be tied down by you. You were happy to be his willing guinea pig, even if the thought of him scrolling on Hinge or Tinder made your heart drop. Letting yourself be used was the least you could do after not even giving him an answer as to why you two had broken up in the first place.

Shotaro became accustomed to your arrangement quickly. After getting the confirmation to his question I’m guessing you want this to be a secret, right? he never asked again. He never asked if you were going on dates (you knew he already knew the answer) or if you were going out for the weekend (once again, you knew he knew the answer). You didn't ask him if he was seeing other people (you didn't want to know the answer) or if he started going out on the weekends again (you hoped the answer was yes, but you hadn't seen him on any of Giselle's Instagram stories and you two seemed to meet up on Friday and Saturday nights more than any other day of the week).

Outside of the space in his apartment you two were still broken up. Giselle was able to successfully drag you to Anton and Sungchan's place for the monthly movie night after telling you how much everyone missed you. On the big gray sofa you found yourself in the middle of tension. Quiet glances towards you and Giselle who was desperately trying to distract you from the quiet glances and the silence that surrounded Shotaro. You knew that your place in the friend group was linked to Shotaro, and your relationship was hailed as the one that was going to make it. There was a tension that came with everyone choosing their side in the "divorce" (Giselle on your side and everyone else on Shotaro's. Once again, you don't fault anyone, and you denied any well wishes or condolences people sent to your inbox).

Just when the nerves were were becoming too much and Giselle left the sofa to go to the bathroom, Shotaro came up to you. He sat next to you on the large sofa, leaving just enough room for one person to fit in between the two of you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. How was he not thinking about the position he had you in hours prior? How was he not showing any signs of mental distress when you felt like you were about to explode?

“How are things?” He asked, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He wasn’t being coy, Shotaro was genuine as he kept space between the two of you. You had to dig your nails into your thigh to stop you from closing the distance. Being here was cruel really. Putting yourself in this position was self-torture. You could feel everyone staring at you, the rest of the noise in the apartment fizzled away as everyone continued staring at you two.

“They’re great. Things are great.”

Shotaro smiled and settled into the couch, then as if on cue everyone else started flocking to the living room. People got comfortable on the floor and the sofa. Shotaro made extra room for Sungchan to fill the space between the two of you, and Giselle sat on the other side of you.

You would’ve loved to watch the movie the same as everyone else. When Shotaro’s friends would laugh along to the dialogue, or whisper before being obnoxiously shushed you were too busy staring at Shotaro. The changing scenes of the movie made him too visible to you, He was lit perfectly, and the darkness in the room provided you with just enough coverage to take your peaks. 

You spent way too long trying to figure him out. You didn’t know what was happening during the movie or what it was about. You were too busy thinking about all the other movie nights when he’d be stuck to your side like glue, a hand permanently touching your thigh or holding your hand. 

Now he wouldn’t even look at you. He stayed trained on the movie, only looking away to scold someone for talking or to reach forward and grab the snacks on the coffee table. He didn’t look over to you when you would laugh, or when Sungchan would look between the two of you from the sides of his eye. Shotaro didn’t give you anything, even when Sungchan inevitably drifted off to sleep right before the final act. 

No one would’ve noticed if he even looked at you from the corner of his eye. If he just turned his head towards you when he was laughing. From your side of the couch it really did seem like nothing was happening between the two of you. You were going over everything since the funeral. When you ghosted him for three days to show back up under false pretenses. Last week when you showed up in the middle of the night unannounced. Meeting up with him after you went to the diner. You had to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You had to make everything was real, if he just looked at you the way he always used to you’d know this was real. 

But Shotaro didn’t look. He only shifted in his spot on the couch when your fingers dipped underneath the collar of your shirt to run over that splotch of skin by your collarbone that Shotaro sucked raw. He only stretched his arm along the top part of the couch over Sungchan’s slouched body to bring his hand behind your head. 

And you said nothing. You only leaned deeper into the couch as slowly as possible so your head could rest in his hand. You only stayed pressed uncomfortably against the couch so Shotaro’s fingers could massage your scalp. 

After the movie you made sure to leave first. You were thinking about the secret display of affection as you narrowly avoided drinks and a talk about the movie by leaving the same time Giselle did. Shotaro had the same excuse, talking about a shift at work that didn’t exist. After he said he was leaving, everyone else followed suit. If anyone thought it was weird that you two were leaving at the same time, they didn’t let it be known. Shotaro’s friends only bid you a goodnight and safe travels as you scurried out of the apartment while he still gathered his things. 

“You left in such a hurry I thought you actually had something going on tomorrow.” Shotaro said when he opened his door to you.

“It wasn’t a complete lie.” You reason.

Shotaro closes and locks his front door behind you and leans against the door. He gestures towards your overnight bag hanging off your shoulder. You shake your head and bring the strap closer to your body.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You almost tell Shotaro that you have plans to study in the diner tomorrow. Breaking up with him forced you to bear through your weekly study dates alone. Putting your backpack in the place Shotaro always sat barely helped. You had also heard through the Giselle grapevine that he created his own study group and they occupied the biggest table in the library on Saturdays. You don’t understand how he could bare being around so many people while trying to get work done. But he also used to tell you he couldn’t understand why you liked being alone so much. 

“Nothing.” You said, shaking your head.

He didn’t press it any further. He stopped trying to coerce information out of you a long time ago. If Shotaro tried asking a question he let you avoid it the first time you deflected. He would only lift his shoulders and let them fall, mimicking the nonchalant attitude you tried to exude. 

He made it hard for you to feign indifference when he backed away from his door, giving you just enough space to walk through.

Shotaro started making you lead him through his apartment recently. After he’d walk behind you to turn the deadbolt lock he would just stay there. Shotaro would look at you from behind, and you didn’t dare to look over your shoulder at him. Being still behind you forced you to step further and further into his place unless you wanted to stand in the entryway all night. You took off your shoes and took your first step in, and Shotaro mirrored your step.

The shreds of dominance that Shotaro gave you made everything even more confusing. The suspension of control was supposed to be the appeal and the reason you were here. When life was too stressful or demanding you would come here to give the authority of your life in someone else’s hands. You came here to not worry about anything, but it was hard to keep your brain off when you had to make decisions to actively avoid an awkward atmosphere. Shotaro making you walk into his apartment instead of pulling you in forced you to make a decision with each foot you decided to put in front of the other. 

The responsibility made it feel like you were walking on a tightrope. You didn’t know if the next step would be the wrong one, if he would scold you for walking towards the couch instead of his bedroom. But Shotaro’s silence gave you nothing. You had to make sure each step was confident, even if having the ball in your court made your heart drop. Shotaro didn’t stop you when you walked past the couch in his living room, or when you gently twisted the handle to his bedroom. He let you lead him all the way to his bed, where he looked unsuspecting and you felt like you were going to explode.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked.

Shotaro nodded his head. He gently guided your purse off of your shoulder and set it on his computer chair.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

You truthfully couldn’t remember what the movie was about. Each time you tried to recall what was on the screen your mind only went to Shotaro’s hand inconspicuously massaging your scalp. You had your eyes on him more than you did the movie. Still you nodded your head, trying to find a proper segway to the reason you came here tonight. Shotaro again was no help. He stood next to his bed in front of you. His hands didn’t even cross the space to touch you first. You had to be the one to make the first move again, taking a step forward until you could press the palms of your hand to his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Lately you’ve been thinking about your mom telling you about that shell you were stuck in when she called you after the wake. You came out of your shell in front of the person who knew you best you felt like you regressed to something even worse than before. When you were asked what’s wrong, you used to answer with contention or shrug it away. Now, when Shotaro asked that question and brought his hands to your arms you felt tears prickle your vision. You couldn’t say it even if you could put it into words. You just lightly pushed at his shoulders, until he got the hint and started lowering his body.

Shotaro let you push him down until he sat on the edge of his bed. With you looking down at the crown of his head, it was manageable. The overbearing heat spreading across your body from embarrassment and an incoming cry turned to confidence, for a second you believed you had an upper hand in the situation of what’s wrong. 

You brought your hand to rest on the top of Shotaro’s head, trying to touch him the same way he did in Anton’s apartment. You weren’t caressing him lovingly, you weren’t offering the affection you swore your arrangement was supposed to be void of now. You were simply testing the waters. Running your hands through his hair was foreplay, nothing more, nothing less. When Shotaro preened into your hand the same way you did on the couch, he was simply returning the favor. 

When you felt him beginning to look up, the exhilaration shifted to nerves and before he could even make eye contact with you, you were already going down to your knees. His hands gripped the edge of the bed a little tighter. You hesitated the same time he did before he spread his legs wider. Regardless you kneeled on the hard cold ground, slotting yourself between his legs. 

Instead of touching his head, your hands rested heavy on his thighs. Shotaro spread himself further to give you more room, and you felt the air in the room shift. You continued rubbing your hands up and down his thighs, looking at the bulge in his pants instead of him. Being in this position was already enough torture. You prayed that Shotaro would give you a break this one time, that he would just tend to your silent cues of what you wanted to do. But his hand went from the edge of the bed to your chin, and you felt his fingers apply the smallest amount of force to tilt your head upwards.

Looking up at him had the opposite effect on you. Everything in you shriveled up when he held such intense eye contact.

“Tell me what you want.” He said.

Don’t read too much into it. Don’t acknowledge the somber look in his eyes or the pang in your chest. Just reach forward until your hands touch the belt of his pants.

“Can I—” He refused to let you off easy. He only raised his eyebrows, forcing the rest of your sentence from your dry throat. “I want to suck your dick.” You asked.

You don’t know how Shotaro said yes after the words tumbled so awkwardly from your lips. When your lack of sex appeal made you cringe, it made Shotaro’s hands undo his belt quickly. The buckle knocked against his hand but Shotaro didn't show any sign of pain. He set the belt next to him and you watched his hand go to the button on his pants next. Your hands waited for him to stop doing the work, and you took the time to compose yourself from going over the way you asked to suck his dick a million times. You tried to be in the moment for him, because you spent so much of your actual relationship doing everything but that. You shuffled on your knees, and moved your hands to work his pants the rest of the way when they got to his mid thigh.

While you pulled his pants down the rest of the way, Shotaro started palming himself over his briefs. The same ring you gifted him—the only one he seemed to wear these days—stared at you as he touched himself. You pressed your nails into his thigh, letting out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. He let out a breath too, and you pulled away from the sight to look at his face. Shotaro was already looking at you—but maybe he never looked away to begin with—as his head lulled to the side.

“You see what you still do to me?” He sighed.

If lust wasn’t actively replacing all of your sane thoughts, you would’ve asked Shotaro what he meant by emphasizing the word. You could only swallow a mouth full of spit and nod your head.

“I see it.” You looked back down to his hand. He stopped palming himself to grip it over the fabric of his underwear to really let you see. His dick twitched in his hand when his other cupped your chin. Your nails scraped Shotaro’s waist when they went underneath the elastic of his briefs, and he raised his hips from the bed to let you pull them down.

His dick sprung straight up before you could even get his underwear down to his ankles, and it continued to twitch as he gently pumped himself. Shotaro forced you to take it slow, you matched his pace of fully undressing him as you felt the nerves over your body. Shotaro only took his hands off himself and your face to take off his shirt. 

When his briefs were beside you, your hand reached forward to grab him. He was hard and already wet in your hands. When the nerves became too much Shotaro leaned back slightly on the bed. You stayed focused on his dick as Shotaro adjusted himself on the edge of his bed. Again you felt his fingers scratch against your scalp, but they didn’t push. Just having him touch you made the courage come back. You inched closer and Shotaro poked out his tongue to wet his lips.

“You got it.” He assured.

You nodded to Shotaro again before bringing him closer to your mouth. You licked the underside of his tip first, a flat tongue against him as he sighed above you again. When you took him all the way to the back of your throat Shotaro’s hand tightened, trying to pull your head back. He always did that, trying to always stop you from gagging or getting ahead of yourself. Feeling Shotaro still handle you like you were made of glass made you take him just as deep again. 

“Fuck.” Shotaro whispered. 

Hearing him curse underneath his breath made you feel like you were doing something right. His grip on you loosened and you took him deep again, and when you gagged he didn’t pull you back. He only spread his legs a little further apart and you scooted closer, ignoring the pain in your knees from the hardwood floor. But Shotaro pulling you off of him paled in comparison to his hands clasping over yours that were pressed to his thighs. 

When his thumbs started gently caressing your hands, you needed more. Maybe if he fucked your mouth it’d get rid of the tender feeling in the air. If he fisted your hair instead of moving to cup your cheeks it would be easier. If he told you that he knows you could suck dick better than that instead of cooing at you and telling you everything felt so good you’d be less distracted. Even when you purposefully lose your rhythm and grazed your teeth along a vein his hands didn’t guide you. He only sucked air through his teeth when you gagged again after taking too much.

“Slow down baby.” Shotaro says gently.

His hands cupped your cheek to prevent you from taking him so deep. You don’t even know if your attempts are even bringing him close to the edge, or if this is more for your benefit that his. There had been too many times you looked up to see Shotaro staring at you, more enveloped in you than what you were doing to him. Back then you were satisfied with his focus on you, but now you just wanted his head to lull to the side in bliss. You wanted to hear him curse because of how well you were taking him, and hear his toes crack and feel his thighs shake.

You can’t take it when you take a brave glance upwards to see him looking down at you. His eyes are locked on the same spot his thumb rubs over on your cheeks, then your earlobe that he lightly pinches with his fingers.

“So pretty.” His hand moves to your hair, massaging your scalp the same way he did during the movie. When Shotaro finally catches your eye before you go back down, his hand on your face becomes a little rougher. He doesn’t stop you from taking him to the back of your throat again. “Have you always been this good at sucking dick?”

You nod when you feel his tip heavy on your tongue. Even though it feels like his words are solely for your benefit they play in the back of your head to stop you from gagging and letting more spit dribble from the corner of your lips. Shotaro hums when he sees your resolve, and you blink your watery eyes. 

“All for me, huh?” 

You nod with his dick in your mouth. When you looked up again Shotaro finally had his head tilted back. He let his leg lose it’s bend and found a new angle to slowly thrust into your mouth. You accommodated to him immediately, ducking your head lower to meet his hips. You felt Shotaro’s hand loosen on your head to wipe the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. He went back to looking at you now, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Even though your pace remained the same, he sounds significantly more lost than before. You hadn’t even gotten to the part where you were supposed to gently rubbing the sensitive inside of his legs to get him even more bothered. But when you nod your head Shotaro moans again, and before you can take keep going he lifts your head off of him. 

You’re still blinking away the tears in your eyes and breaking the line of spit with your tongue when Shotaro starts pulling you up. You can’t stop yourself from pouting at not finishing the job as you were getting the hang of it and he was so visibly close. His dick was red and angry when he pulled you up, slapping against his stomach before going back to being upright. You can’t even tend to him before he brings you up to eye level. You’re still attempting to blink away tears when he grabs you by your chin and pulls you in.

When Shotaro’s soft bitten lips press to yours, you realize how long it’s been. Even though he put such an emphasis on how important communication was in your new arrangement, there was plenty that was left unsaid. No talking about why you broke up, no talking about why you came back, and no kissing. You two came to the silent agreement that kissing made everything too real, it was too intimate for the arrangement you currently had. Pressing your lips to his was too reminiscent of the kisses you shared before you broke up with him. He pressed into you the same way, and tilted his head before letting his tongue push into your mouth. You reacted the same way too, parting your lips and letting your tongue press against his.

You two were like that for awhile. Like no time had passed or like you two were doing it for the first time again. Shotaro worked extra hard in the moments you came to your senses. Feeling him pull you deeper made you forget everything. This wasn’t a bad idea when he pulled you by your waist onto the bed with him, and it wasn’t a bad idea that he was maneuvering your body to be underneath his. 

When Shotaro pulled away you followed after him. Your lips were still parted, your tongue in the same place he left it when your eyes fluttered open again. He was already looking at you, your glossy spit was still smeared across his lips when he smiled at you. You were too busy trying to hide the look of surprise on your face to do anything else. He rubbed his fingers over your expression before you could change it. You were trapped underneath his body and his soft gaze that was so much harder to bare than the hunger he had in his eyes earlier. He looks away from you when he reaches to his nightstand, pulling a condom from the top drawer.

“I don’t know how you still do this to me.” He said quietly.

There’s that still again. It’s persistent, it’s emphasized each time it leaves his lips. Shotaro kisses your lips again before you can ask him about it. He gently pushes your pants down your legs and you quick them off until you hear them hit the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist quickly, falling into the normal operations of the past two months. But instead of Shotaro bringing his hands to restrict both of your wrists he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Your hand hesitates, fingers sticking out straight between his. Shotaro looks at your rigid hand then to your eyes.

“I just need you.” He’s sincere. His voice almost breaks when he pulses his grip on your hand. The way he looks down at you makes you ignore everything else until you’re nodding your head to his request. Shotaro’s lips curl into a smile and his thumb rubs at your cheek. “In the way we used to do it. Please.” He begs like nothing happened between the two of you. You clasp your hand around his like it's another Friday night of you holding him captive in his room instead of letting him enjoy his youth.

“Okay.” You should feel terrible for doing this.

He doesn’t take off his ring to slip it into your mouth. He kisses you again as his hand drags down your body. Shotaro is the one who guides your legs around his waist as he situates himself between. He’s teasing when he rubs his tip across your clit, it causes both of you to moan into eachothers mouths. 

As Shotaro slides in, he holds your hand tight. You feel it being pressed into the mattress beside your head before he slowly rocks into you. Both of you are careful, knowing you’re liable to say something you definitely shouldn’t. But the way he slides back in feels like the first time, and when he goes to your neck to let out a sigh of relief you feel it.

“It’s like no time has passed.” Shotaro’s voice is barely held together, like he’s one step away from moaning directly in your ear. He pulls away from your neck to look at you. You close your eyes fast, but you’ve been in this position enough to know. The scene is painted perfectly in your mind, and you can feel his breath fan your cheek as he continues to talk. “Like that night never happened.” He says.

This isn’t dirty talk. This isn’t him telling you that you’re tight or wet, or that you sound so pretty. You should tell him that this is going to far, but it feels too good. You’re already feeling that knot in the pit of your stomach. The closeness and feeling Shotaro’s heart beat against your chest is making everything feel too intense. 

You’re not ready to rebuff his advances. There were many things you could’ve said back to him in this moment. He was giving you an opportunity to say something back without having to even look at him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hand holding yours tightly to show support, Shotaro was opening the door wide for you. You were silent, he pulled his hips back and pushed back into you until a strained moan fell from your lips.

“Do you miss me?” He continued.

He was desperate. He ground his hips against yours and you could feel him in your stomach. You arched you back off the bed again, nodding pitifully, holding his hand so tight you thought you’d break it.

“I miss you, Taro.” You say immediately.

“Don’t leave this time.” He said.

Before you could say anything else, Shotaro hooked your leg in his arm to open you up more. You were compensating the deeper spot he was hitting by digging your nails into whatever you could. His face pressed into the side of yours made it impossible to focus on anything else but him. He was looking down at you, biting his lip trying to hold on just long enough to hear your response.

You shouldn’t have opened your eyes. You should’ve kept them screwed shut until you came. You could blame everything on being theatrics of getting you to finish, but when you opened your eyes and saw how sincere Shotaro looked, it was impossible. You were the only thing he was looking at, so locked into your facial expressions like this was about you instead of him. There was no use in hiding your moans, or how close you already were to your orgasm. You just held him tight so he’d do the same to you, pushing your hips upwards to meet his movements.

There’s no words. Just the two of you moaning, making the bed creak, and holding on so tight. When you’re already on the verge Shotaro is right there, hanging his head low to whisper into your ear.

“I’m close.” He says.

“Me too.” You say back.

Like you two were still a couple, you came together. Shotaro always said it was romantic, so you made a point after you broke up to always cum before or after him. But this time it wasn’t on purpose and unavoidable when he sped his hips up. You were moaning into his ear and then crying, pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around his waist. Shotaro was rutting into you then he stopped, hand on your waist holding you in place. He grunted like he was really cumming inside of you, holding you in place while he panted in your ear. This was too real, too reminiscent of how it was before you ended things. He even stayed on top of you for a beat, coming back to Earth as he realized the both of you went too far.

Shotaro rolled off of your sweaty body to lay on the bed next to you. You stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath. This was definitely worse than the night of the funeral. Then you could blame it on the fresh emotion of breaking up with your ex and the overwhelming presence of your mother. But having intimate sex after pretending you two were solely here to fuck was worse. Significantly worse when Shotaro couldn’t even find the words to cut through the silence. The two of you just stared at the ceiling, hands that were just holding eachother looking for something else to hang onto.

You could barely bring yourself to look out the corner of your eye to Shotaro. He was matching your breathing, one hand resting on his chest while the other pushed sweaty bangs from his face.

“My mom asked about you.” You say.

Shotaro turned to face you and you averted your eyes back to the ceiling. He’s silent for a moment, tapping on his chest like he’s trying to find the words.

“Terrible thing to say after we had sex.” Shotaro laughs to the ceiling. “But what’d you tell her?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“That you’re doing well.” You answered.

You told yourself Shotaro’s heavy sigh was because he was still trying to catch his breath. He got up from laying on the bed and sat on the edge, his back facing you. He didn’t say anything else when he ran his hands through his hair again.

“Why would you tell her that?” He asked.

You got up after him, looking at the back of his his head. 

“Because you are doing well.” You answered.

Shotaro turned back to face you. His eyebrows were knit together and he tilted his head to the side. You should be looking at the ceiling light.

“How would you know that?”

You really should be looking at the ceiling light. Because Shotaro keeps his eyes on you and looks upset, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You’re gormless, mouth agape while he fully turns to face you.

“I mean. You haven’t had an actual conversation with me since you broke up with me.” He reaches to the ground and pulls his shirt over his head. You should be getting dressed too. What you came here for is done, but you’re still in the center of the bed. “The only time we actually speak is when we are having sex.” He adds.

Shotaro gets up from the bed and pulls his sweats up his legs. You start looking for your own clothes, they have to be somewhere near your body. You know your bag is still on Shotaro’s computer chair, the S charm he bought you still hanging off the bag.

“I thought you preferred for it to be like this?” You said.

“You think I want the person who broke up my heart to come over just for sex and then just pretend I don’t exist?” 

Shotaro’s bewildered expression makes you turn and face him. There’s no hiding the pain on his face, the confusion in his expressive hands. You have nothing to say.

“Why would I want the girl that broke my heart to come over just to break it again and again and—”

“I didn’t break your heart.” You say quietly.

Shotaro has to force eye contact between the two of you by propping himself up on his elbows. He looks at you confused and angry.

“How can you tell me that? You broke up with me and wouldn’t even tell me why. Then you call me outside your mom’s house after a funeral and it seems like you miss me and you need me but then after it’s like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You say quickly.

“Then tell me why we broke up.” The anger fizzled out somewhere. Shotaro is on the bed, looking at you. He’s so desperate, his hand reaches out and grabs yours to hold it tight. He shakes your hand when you don’t answer, and you can see that heartbreak he was talking about earlier. You find your clothes fast, locking onto them before pulling your hand out of his. “Please.” He begs.

“I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.” You say.

Before Shotaro can say a single thing you’re getting dressed. He follows you wordlessly around his place just like the first time. Anything he says falls on deaf ears. The only resistance was when he stood in front of his computer chair, stopping you from grabbing your bag. But after a moment he handed it to you, and you were gone.

November was colder than you thought it would be. You had to bring your jacket close to your body to try and preserve some warmth. Leaving Shotaro’s apartment even after he was calling for you made you forget that nights were cold. You were aimless suddenly when you made it out of his apartment complex. You should’ve shuffled home in the cold to spend another night alone, coming to terms with the fact that your relationship was over. But the other way like a honing beacon the lights inside of the diner were still on. It wasn’t that late after all, and Giselle was working. There was the soup and sandwich special and still the chance to reinvent yourself. So you shuffled across the gravel and then the grass and then the intersection to the warm yellow lights. The cream of mushroom soup and reuben sandwich special etched on the a-frame outside was like a honing beacon. 

You opened the glass door to an empty diner. Giselle sat behind the hostess stand, on her phone until the overhead bell chimed. She grabbed menus and prepared her customer service voice before she looked up and realized it was you. 

“Here kinda late?” Giselle asked.

The door slammed closed because of the wind behind you. Giselle said a fact, you were never here past the midday lunch special. You never came to the diner outside your window, you never really left your dorms this late into the night either. 

“I was wanting some soup.” You say.

Giselle said nothing else as she guided you to your designated booth. The cup of water and her hand lingering on your shoulder was some form of silent support, and she was heading to the kitchen instead of sitting down with you.

You were watching the rim of your glass and people filtering in and out of the diner. There were barely any people, there was never any people. Only stragglers, people studying late tucked into the corners near the outlets. People sitting at the bar drinking coffee even though it’s nighttime. A completely different crowd than what you’re used to. Being surrounded by people means you’re not alone, and that’s a feeling that’s been eating at you more than usual. So you people watch. You look at the workers behind the counter and the glimpses of Giselle’s pink hair you see behind the swinging door. You hear the bell above the door ring while you’re looking at the back of someone, trying to read their dimmed computer screen.

“I figured you’d be here.”

When you turned around Shotaro was standing next to the booth, dressed in a long coat. He was wearing his slides and socks, something thrown together. It was obvious he wasn’t concerned with dressing for the weather or for style as much as he was concerned finding you. He was still wearing his sweats and sleep shirt and out of breath as he motioned to the other side of the booth.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You nodded and Shotaro slid in. He took off his coat, shivering from the incoming draft as he settled into the seat. You tried to seem as calm as he did, mirroring his look around the cafe.

“This is where Giselle introduced me to you.” He says.

“This is where you came to talk to Giselle about that project and I just happened to be here.”

You’re playing with the straw in your cup when Shotaro shakes his head. He laughs to himself and looks at the table, running his hand over the top before putting it underneath.

“I used to sit in that back corner over there.” Shotaro points to the part of the diner you’ve never looked at. Someone occupies the space there now, sitting in an stool hunched over as they type away on their computer. You preferred booth seats over stools, so you never paid attention to that side. You’re stuck on the person you’re looking at, not even turning when Shotaro starts speaking again. “You used to come in here so often and order the soup and sandwich special.” He says.

You try your hardest to remember the times you’ve looked over your shoulder. Trying to remember the other table Giselle would always sit at before she started sitting at yours. You try to remember her friend she would mention on occasion, each time you’d tell her you didn’t know him.

“I had to beg Giselle to introduce me to you. She said you wouldn’t like me almost a million times.” He laughs and you see his hand go back up to mess with his eyebrow. A nervous tick that Shotaro always forgot was a nervous tick until he noticed your eyes staring at his hands. “I insisted I just needed her to introduce me to you and I could handle it. But I got so nervous she had to do all the talking for me.” He says.

Finally you turn back to Shotaro. You have to blink to see him clearly. 

“Why are you here right now?” You ask. 

Your voice is quiet, and so close to breaking. Shotaro leans closer, experimentally reaching his hand across the table. You shouldn’t grab it, you really shouldn’t grab it. But his palm facing upwards looks so comforting and you haven’t touched him outside the context of the bedroom in so long it feels like the first time. You let his hand completely clasp over yours and you look at him the same way he looks back at you.

“You haven’t talked to me. I just want to know why.” He says, just as quiet.

You don’t know why you’ve kept it a secret for this long. You couldn’t come to terms that you broke up with him for a ridiculous reason, or that you were in the wrong. You would’ve thought that he’d move on by now, and those girls you convinced yourself he was seeing would’ve cleared his mind. But he looked tortured for the first time in his life. His eyes were pleading and he was wearing the clothes he wears to bed in public. Withholding the reason why you two broke up was the thing that kept him here. You were trapping him again, unknowingly leveraging a breakup with sex. 

“I didn’t want to stop you from living your life.” You look down at his hand, still holding yours tight. “You stopped going out because of me and you stopped seeing your friends too.” You said.

When Shotaro scoffs you look up at him. He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe it, holding your hand tighter.

“Who says I stopped going out because of you? Maybe I just got tired of going out.” His other hand is on top of the table, motioning towards something. “I’ve been going out for as long as I can remember.” He says.

“What about your friends?” You ask.

“What about my friends? I see them everyday.” He says.

When you start shaking your head, Shotaro leans close, until the edge of the table stops him.

“I stay in with you because I want to. I still see my friends, and I still live my life.” His other hand wraps around yours. “I want to live a life with you in it. Come out with me, or we can find a new place together if you don’t want to be holed up inside. But I don’t see the harm in doing that on a Friday instead of going to a club I’ve been at a million times.” 

When you try to open your mouth to speak, you can’t get the words out. When tear wells in your eyes then rolls down your cheek you have to look outside, anywhere but at Shotaro. You can’t escape him when you see his reflection in the glass window, or when he looks at you even in the reflection. Your other hand wipes away your tears, laying flat on the table.

“I meant it when I said I miss you. I miss you. So much. I should’ve told you how sorry I was the night of the funeral.” You say to the glass.

You see Shotaro nod in the reflection. 

“I missed you too. I prefer this instead. Communication is important.” He smiles.

You smile too, turning back towards him. You wipe away more of your tears, fighting that lump in the back of your throat. 

“Next time we break up though, please kill me instead. My heart can’t take losing contact with you again.” Shotaro says.

Before you can ask him the question you already know the answer to—the burning question of if you’re back together—Giselle comes around from the back of house with two sandwiches. She talks about how she’s the matchmaker and how sick you two make her until the diner closes.

[keriarentikai]

A low/no-angst WangXian podfic rec list for hard times and cozy days

This list is far from complete and incorporates suggestions from the MDZS podfic discord server as well as comments on the last iteration of this post. But in the end, this is only my opinion of what’s cozy and low-angst, so please make sure to read the tags yourself before embarking if you’re feeling sensitive!

(list is alphabetical by title)

a garden in your ribcage by puddingcatbeans, G, podfic by GinevraFangirl (1 hour 48 min) – there’s just something about this one, a modern-with-magic AU focusing on plant magic, that gets me and feels so soft.

Accidents Will Happen by vesna, E, podfic by AuntieIroh (6 hours 26 min) – soft, post-canon mpreg. A little angst and illness, but mostly very sweet.

and having a marvelous time by varnes, M, podfic by Spinifex (13 hours 43 min) – this is a very sweet Sound of Music AU and Spinifex’s voices just KILL me.

Bodega Love by cicer, T, podfics by a big group in 2020 possibly for an event? (1 hour 16 min) and by Lotus Pier Lakeside team for VT Mystery Box 2023 (1 hour 37 min) – another very funny Modern AU with insane podfic energy

grow by cafecliche, T, podfic by jellyfishfire (1 hour 32 min) – post-canon, wwx is de-aged. Honestly I don’t remember this super well but it was recced by lightningshowl and I remember liking it. I’ll relisten and report back soon!

i know who i want to take me home by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic by rionaa (1 hour 45 min ish) – wwx finds a very drunk lwj in his bar and has to take care of him until his brother comes to get him (and then later they get together). I just love the fic and rionaa + Thali’s reading is so sweet.

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410), T, podfic by raitala (5+ hours). Lwj can tell when people are lying. It’s soft and lyrical and very soothing imho.

it is wednesday, my dudes by ritualist, M, podfic by jellyfishfire (26 min) – wwx is a health and safety inspector and needs to check out the strip club where lwj works. This podfic makes me laugh every single time.

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (a.k.a. The Asshole Dog fic), E, podfic by rionaa (between 10-15 hours, I didn’t look up the exact number, sorry!) - not entirely angst-free but this podfic is my happy place. Modern AU, lwj and wwx have a chance meeting and get to know each other and fall in love, of course.

Lost Boys by raitala, E, podfic by KeriArentikai (13 hours 41 minutes) – Modern AU, wwx and a-yuan are reunited with lwj after a long time and move in with him. Not angst-free, entirely, but it’s very soft and absolutely what I listened to when I was sick and needed a blanket in a podfic.

lovely thorns and singing crows by isabilightwood, E, podfics by exmanhater (3 hours 30 min) and semperfiona (4 hours 10 min) – super fun Addams-family vibes modern AU. Maybe not traditional comfort reading, but soft and fun.

Magical Marriage Ribbons by starandrea, Not Rated (but a bit of sex), podfic by dangercupcake (19.5 hours so far) – alt-canon, wangxian get together as teens, soft vignette style. It’s not an angst-free fic but it’s definitely a comfort listen for me.

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association by Ariaste, E, podfics by rionaa et al. (some length!) and GinevraFangirl et al. (also some length!) - another funny, manic modern AU to get your mind off of things.

My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun by nonplussed, T, podfic by neireid (3.5-4 hours) - I can’t sum it up better than the author: “AKA the fic where WWX crossdresses his way into winning his life, love, and liberty”.

plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser, E, podfics by exmanhater (4 hours 26 min) and knight_tracer (4 hours 52 min) – I’ll admit I don’t remember this one too well, but it was recced by flamingwell, LadyEn and addictedtostoriesandcrochet, so it’s clearly a winner. Another one to add more comments to once I’ve relistened!

save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae, E, podfic by exmanhater (3 hours 15 min) – funny modern-with-magic, wwx-is-a-gremlin AU. Maybe not exactly what I’d consider a comfort listen, but definitely a good, light distraction listen.

Seasons of Love by sweetlittlevampire, T, podfic by kisahawklin (some amount of time!) - very soft bunny-based modern AU

shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410), M, podfic by KeriArentikai (8 hours 10 minutes) – wwx raised by the Nie, told in a vignette style for the most part. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Somewhere I Belong by athena_crikey, E, podfic by zaffre (2 hours 6 minutes). Pilot!wwx takes scientist!lwj into the north of the Prairies and they hit it off.

stray cat strut by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic by KeriArentikai (6 hours 17 min). Canon-era, wwx gets trapped as a cat! And then a catboy! Very cute, funny, low-stakes fic.

The Peanut Butter Jar AU by ScarlettStorm, E, podfic of fic 1 by Khashana (3 hours 22 min), fic 2 by sunkitten_shash (4 hours 37 min) – fox-shifter WWX gets in a bit of trouble and is saved by animal-rescue worker LWJ. Super funny and quite light.

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale, T, podfic by kealdrakemna (8 hours 16 min) – time-travel fix-it that just makes everything a bit better.

this moonlit heart is home by Selenay, M, podfic by exmanhater (55 min) – cat!wwx! Very cute

through a window softly by impossibletruths, T, podfic by Rhea314 (1 hour 48 min) – yet another one I need to relisten to, but that I remember liking and that was recced by addictedtostoriesandcrochet.

without your new eyes by anaphoricae, E, podfic by LadyEn (7 hours 29 min) – soft didn’t-know-they-were-dating fic

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint, E, podfic by GinevraFangirl (2 hours 36 min) – modern with magic; wwx is Lan Sizhui’s flying instructor and is into his hot dad.

I will hopefully continue to update this as appropriate fics come to my attention. Everyone has different tastes as to what constitutes a soft comfort listen, but I'm extremely happy to hear suggestions of what should be added.

[wolfstarlibrarian]

9 books to read in 2025 (sweet + spicy)

Thank you SO much to @eyra for tagging me! I love an excuse to talk about books.

I had SO much fun reading these books I'm excited to share them, so pretty please let me know if you read any of them? I might put anon asks back on because I'm so eager to discuss them. Also, all of these books have HEAs.

Also, I'm working on related marauders lists for almost all of these, so stay tuned!

🌶️ = the more peppers the spicier it is

🍭 = the more lollipops the sweeter it is

Captive Prince: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

This series is one that ifykyk. It's a dark, dramatic, sexy mlm series set in a pseudo historic age and WOW. If it was a fic it'd come with tons of warnings and tags, but there's also an underlying softness between the main characters. Lots of angst and drama and characters you can't help root for. DEFINITELY an 18+ rec so please proceed accordingly.

Johann: Vampire Mates: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

I already rec'd one of the books in this series here, but this one is tied for my favorite. A modern soulmate/vampire au that's got humor, the CUTEST cinnamon roll who's inexperienced (and hundreds of years old), a russian mobster, and just enough angst to make me you ache.

Boystown Heartbreakers: 🌶️🌶️ 🍭🍭🍭

If you're a wolfstar fan, then you'll absolutely adore this friends-to-lovers modern story about a hairstylist who is so worried about dating his DROP DEAD GORGEOUS best friend. All the internal turmoil paired with a book boyfriend you'll absolutely love, and lines that actually had me laughing out loud makes this one of my top reads for the year.

The Charm Offensive: 🌶️🌶️ 🍭🍭🍭

This one totally surprised me with how well it dealth with mental health issues in the middle of a VERY charming story about falling in love with someone (when it's literally your job to help them fall in love with someone else). A bi-awakening and oblivious pining gem. If you want more fics that feature a reality show check out this rec list.

Myles Below Freezing: 🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

Okay can someone alert the Hazelnoot server? Because this one feels like a cross between Solntse and Sweater Weather. Myles (a cinnamon roll, nerdy Remus IMO) has to solve a murder mystery at the South Pole while trying not to fall for the sweetheart Russian Alexei. The banter is incredible and honestly my friends and I need a second book about the lesbians in it. Forced proximity, oblivious DATING, anxiety rep, action and chase scenes, cuddling, and locked-in together all in one.

Sapphire Sunset: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🍭🍭🍭

If you don't know Chris Rice, he's the gay son of Anne Rice (author of Interview With A Vampire) and thank god he's followed in her footsteps because his romance books are SO good and intense and yet fluffy? It's a ton of drama about an ex-marine and a hotel heir and a family scandal for the books. Feels delightfully like an age-gap modern Drarry book.

Lightning Born: 🌶️ 🍭

A friend recommended me this Frankenstein mlm retelling, and I was like "ew, no". However, I was completely surprised by how much heart it had, and how much it reminded me of R/S. Amnesia (due to ya know, dying), forbidden love, some serious angst, and thankfully a HEA that includes lesbians getting to live out in the tropics.

Honey Girl: 🌶️🌶️ 🍭🍭🍭

This is the only book on the list with wlw as the main pairing and by god, it's beautiful. The writing style gripped me on the first page and I've been recommending it to everyone since I've read it. Imagine waking up in a hotel room in Vegas, by yourself, with a wedding band on your finger and a note. The whole book feels like an intimate love letter and it should absolutely be on your TBR.

On Writing

No spice or sweetness in this non-fiction book, because it's a book by Stephen King on writing. Whenever I talk to anyone who's struggling with their craft I always recommend this book. It's short, to the point, and will leave you feeling much more confident in your abilities while helping you improve your writing. 10/10.

⭐

Okay well I hope you enjoy these recs! I've turned on anon asks so please share your thoughts or your own recs as I'm always looking for new books and fics to read. (We'll just ignore how long the TBR list is already...)

Tagging: @thedrarrylibrarian @wolfstarwarehouse @wolfstarmicrofic @pancakehouse @imsiriuslyreading @lavenderhaze @rainbowrowell @gayliketheancients @brandileigh2003 @mrtellmeafckingsecret @imjusthereforwolfstar And ANYONE ELSE who also love books

[firewolf111]

Hello!

I've had a fanfic idea in my head for a while, but have been struggling to find the motivation to write, especially since this idea would be a long form fic and I usually write oneshots. I have a bit of an all or nothing mindset, so convincing myself to work on a project I can't finish in one sitting is really hard. So I figured why not try a notes thing.

(Not sure why I'm trying since only my sanders sides ship posts seem to get any attention, but may as well)

So...

For every 5 notes this post gets, I'll write for 15 minutes. Every 10 notes I'll write for the 15 minutes and post a small blurb to keep myself accountable.

If we somehow get to 100 notes, I'll up it to 30 minutes.

Let's go over some basics for the fic so you know whether you want to root for me to write it or not.

It's a Hermitcraft fic. Although it is kinda, slightly a life series cross-over (the summary will make this make sense.

It would technically be Mumbo centric, but it would have scenes from multiple of the Hermits pov.

Sound interesting?

Here's the summary:

The life game was over. Mumbo knew that for a fact. Yet a part of him feels trapped there. Nightmares and paranoia have become a frequent experience for him. But it was just a game. He wasn't going to ruin his friends' fun just because he couldn't handle a little bloodshed. Besides, the game was over. This was Hermitcraft. Hermitcraft was a safe server.

Except... the server is safe. But the players aren't.

Most viruses and parasites that could potentially latch on to a player are normally large enough to be detected by the many firewalls and anti-virus programs Hermircraft has set up. Any of them small enough to slip past are too weak to attach to the players. Or normally they are. But Mumbo hasn't been doing too well.

Why would the Hermits think to check? Surely, if one of them was feeling bad enough that a virus could latch onto and feed off of to grow stronger, then obviously, they would reach out for help. Except he didn't.

And now the virus has grown too strong.

What happens when the virus gives Mumbo the ability to alter the server's code?

Well... he already feels like he is trapped in the life game. So why not bring it to life?

Let the games continue.

(Well, that summary got away from me. I might later make a better one.)

But anyways, if that sounds like a fic you may enjoy, send some notes. Comment, reblog it, tag your mutuals who you think might like it. Do whatever to peer pressure me onto writing this (otherwise, the idea will probably rot away in my brain).

Just preferably keep it to 5 notes a person.

[da-rulah]

A Personal Ritual - Cardinal Copia x gn! reader

This fic was inspired by the incomparably talented @delulluart. When she dropped the initial sketch into our discord server, I lost my mind, and wrote this for her. Now she's finished the final painting, we've decided to collaborate...

GO AND LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS PAINTING HERE

(If you don't go and check out this painting you will find me standing above your bed at 3:00am wielding something shiny and sharp.)

Summary: After a wonderfully sinful night in your lover's embrace, you catch him in a moment of domestic bliss that has you falling in love all over again...

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Barely any, tooth rotting fluff, some worship elements, hints at previous smut, teasing and flirtation, nudity

These sheets are softer than your own. Perhaps they’re the reason you continue to spend the night here instead of in your own bed. It couldn’t have anything to do with the warm body that usually occupied it at all, could it?  

Except that warm body wasn’t next to you right now. It wasn’t beside you, on top of you, or under you. Even the warmth hadn’t lingered, the emptiness cool and uninviting as you stretched your hand across the mattress in search of your lover. Sleep had only just begun to evade you, and opening your eyes to a golden morning sun was simply not yet in the cards, so instead you patted the mattress over and over, yet to no avail. 

With a subtle sigh, you roused your head from the pillow, squinting as the light attacked your retinas. The sheets concealed the evidence of a night well spent; nude skin peppered with marks only a lover could make. Your muscles ached as you stretched yourself out, still reaching and hoping he may appear at your fingertips if you just wished hard enough.  

As you came around, you thought maybe that was exactly what had happened, spotting movement from the corner of your eye. The bathroom door was wide open, steam still pouring out of it like an atmospheric addition, special effects that just seemed to follow this dreamy man around. That movement you’d spotted had been him, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself with a towel around his waist. Regrettably, you’d missed the best part, but even now you could see the way the muscles in his back flexed when he moved, the freckles over his shoulders that cascaded down his spine, the dip where the towel dug into the softness of his hips, tied a little too tight... 

His hair was getting longer, grey starting to speckle through the roots. He must have just towel dried it, the strands damp and wild in all manner of twists and curls but of course, they almost looked intentionally done. You shifted in the bed, laying your head on the pillow and snuggling back into the sheets at an angle that allowed you to watch him reach into the cabinet above the sink and gather products and tools to get himself ready for the day. As of yet, he hadn’t noticed you were awake let alone watching him, lost in his own little routine. 

He shut the cabinet, the mirrored glass of the door now lining up perfectly with his face, projecting an image of him back to you. A shadow was forming across his jawline; the same shadow that had left its mark on you the night before, grazing the sensitive skin across your body. Stubble looked good on him, you always thought, wondering what it would look like should he decide to grow it out like the rest of his moustache. But no, you liked this look; the face you’d fallen in love with to begin with, with its signature lonely moustache and carefully sculpted sideburns. 

He fiddled with something in front of him out of view, then lifted a brush to his face that he swiped in circles against his stubbled skin, painting it white with a creamy substance that from here smelled like citrus – but then, that could be any number of products he’d used in the shower too. He traced the circular pattern over his stubble, reaching it down his neck as he stretched and covering every inch of darkened skin. He lidded the product and stacked it on the edge of the sink, now reaching for a shiny little thing he’d already laid out.  

With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.  

You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even... It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate.  

There was only ever one person in the world who would see him in moments like these and however simple or mundane these little tasks were, they were humanising and so normal. The man before you was anything but normal with the life he led, the talents he possessed and the future he had ahead of him but those were things he shared with everyone. Much like his rituals, these moments were also planned and served a purpose and yet they were personal to him, and him only – until you. It was the normal moments, these ‘personal rituals’ that made him so special to you, and you alone.  

The razor continued to scrape along his neck in clean swipes, glinting in the bathroom light and sounding with a familiar scrape and ring of the metal. With his neck smooth and clean, he moved onto his face, carefully guiding the razor’s swipes to give him the sharp, clean edges of his sideburns on either side if his face. You’d always wondered how he got them to such a sharp point like this, but it was clear now; especially knowing he used a straight razor to do so. He’d clearly had years of practise perfecting his signature looks, avoiding his moustache yet tidying it to two thinner, well-kept halves.  

As he worked, your eyes drifted over him as they often did at any given moment. But these quiet moments of intimacy were ones you spent time burning into your memory, the details kept safe and hidden for only you. In his reflection, you watched as the muscles and tendons in his neck stretched and flexed with each lean forward and swipe of his razor. The more you watched, the more your eyes committed the details of his shoulders and chest to memory; the freckles, the dark hair that settled over his chest and barely concealed his tattoo, then tapered off into a trail to disappear beneath the low hanging towel. His stomach looked soft and warm where he kept leaning against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into the flesh just as his towel did his hips.  

There wasn’t a single thing you didn’t adore about him. There wasn’t a single thing you would change. All of it you would sync into your memories in a collection of things you never wanted to forget the sight of.  

Now clean of the shaving cream from his face, he took the washcloth he’d been using as a wipe rag and ran it under the faucets, cleaning away the excess he’d missed between swipes of his blade. Once clean, he ran the cloth over his freshly smooth face, a satisfying hum rumbling from his chest at the warm sensation of soft cotton on polished skin.  

Part of his routine included a moisturiser, dabbing it onto his forehead, cheeks, chin and one on the nose with a tiny little “heh” sound that encouraged a lazy little smile on your lips. He rubbed it in gently, similar circular motions to before with the shaving cream.  

He reached for a little blue glass bottle, pouring a liquid onto his fingertips and lathering them up before patting them against the freshly shaved skin of his neck. A hiss pushed itself from between his teeth, his nose wrinkling as he patted the liquid into the skin quickly, like the speed would help the sting of cologne on recently opened pores.  

“Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself, endearingly silly and something else you loved so dearly about him. You didn’t hold back the small giggle that bubbled in your throat but unfortunately now, that meant you had his attention. You were no longer peacefully watching your lover from afar, your show interrupted. 

His head moved only slightly, but his eyes somehow found you in the reflection of the mirrored cabinet door. They were wide at first, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t or had forgotten in his routine that you were present at all. But they soon softened, seeing you draped in his sheets, still breathtakingly beautiful in your sleepy state. His lips curled into a fond smile, and he wiped his hands on the towel around his hips while he quickly tidied away the products and tools, every so often checking back in the reflection that you hadn’t disappeared only to find you still watching him with hooded, lazy eyes.  

His own little sacred ritual complete, he wondered over to you, towel clinging to his hips for dear life until he stopped by the edge of the bed in front of you. You met him there on your knees, holding the sheets under your armpits with only the smallest and cheekiest amount of skin from your arms and collarbone displayed to him. He lifted a hand to trail his fingertips down your bare arm, lifting your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your palm.  

“You were watching, eh?” he asked, his accent deeper and thicker as the first he’d spoken aloud this morning.  

“Admiring,” you corrected him, holding the sheet against your chest with your free hand.  

“I see...” he mused, another kiss being planted to your hand. His eyes scanned the parts of your body he could see, marks from your long and impassioned night together still very visible on your skin. His eyes darkened at the sight, a need rising in him to always create more. He tugged you to his chest, using the pads of his fingertips to trace the bursts of colour across your neck and collarbone while he held you there, other hand still in yours.  

As if by instinct, you leaned your head to the side to accommodate him, stretching your neck like he had as he was shaving to elongate the space in which his fingers danced. He leaned in, pressing delicate kisses to each bruise and each mark he had left there. In contrast to his stubbly, rushed and feral kisses and bites from last night, you were met with the smoothest skin against yours and featherlight pecks as if trying to heal them. You weren’t sure which you preferred; both were divine. 

“You tempt me to stay like un succubo diabolico (a demonic succubus),” he whispers against your skin, goosebumps raising across every inch. How badly you wanted him to stay... You would take every second you could with him.  

“Is it working?” you asked with a playful lilt to your tone, yet the breathiness in your voice gave away your bubbling arousal. Lips continued to press against the marks, the tip of his nose dragging across the skin from one point to the next like he was drawing constellations from the bursts of colour he’d made last night.  

“Sí, sí,” he mumbled into your neck, “cediamo alla tentazione in questa cappella... (we give in to temptation in this chapel...)”  

He felt the chuckle that left your throat and broke away from you long enough to find your lips with his. The hand still holding yours squeezed against his chest and you forgot about the sheets precariously held up under your armpit when you wrapped your arm around his neck to deepen the kiss, fingers finding purchase in the damp curls on his head.  

He let go of your hand, instead, whipping the towel from his hips and gripping onto your waist, kneeling on the bed with you as you scooted back to the middle, never letting him go. He felt warm against you, his body pressing so deliciously to yours.  

“I don’t want to get you into trouble, Cardinal...” you teased, brushing your nose with his.  

“Amore, you have been doing so since the day I let you into my bed,” he grinned devilishly, bringing his lips back to yours as he toppled the two of you over and back into his sheets. The two of you could think of your excuses later; for now, there was no denying the palpable need that the intimacy of his personal rituals had stirred. A man, with so much power to his name and weight to his shoulders, boiled down to a moment of banality reserved for only the one closest to him.  

Oh, how deep you had fallen for your Cardinal...  

Once again, please go and check out THIS ARTWORK that inspired this. @delulluart put an initial sketch of this into our discord server, and she triggered this brain dump. This is all on her.

[tunastime]

How Deeply Rooted Trees Go

Hey y'all !! This was my piece for the @trafficzine 6th edition, full of art and writing for the beloved latest installment: Wild Life! I knew I had to jump on the chance to write BigB of all people after devouring his POV <3 it was so much fun to write a piece that both encapsulated what BigB had going on with the Creaking throughout Wild Life and describe the actual events of his dripstone kill, and I had a blast working on it. Huge shout-out to everyone involved—please go check out their pieces, everyone did a wonderful job! (1012 words)

It was important to keep a very careful, watchful eye on him.

No one had been doing this, of course. Too many people had written BigB off as some sort of outlier to their pre-existing equations, pre-formed alliances. Not in a way that had made him the outcast of these situations, necessarily, but rather in a way that had most, if not all, of his friends with their guard down. 

Creaking should be watched for sudden movements after all, and nobody had been watching BigB. 

Well—they had been for a little, their gaze like prickling nettle when he’d caught Skizz in webbing and killed him. His friends’ eyes had slid off once he’d spoken—spoken something like revenge—a word realized more through action than physical tongue. He’d slunk off after that—after revenge—after another painful death. BigB had found himself back in the sanctuary (if he could even call it that anymore) of the 5Gs base. 4Gs. Whatever it was when he wasn’t there. 

He had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Cleo and Scott again, who had watched as he muttered out complaints about needing to get a good kill. It had been, as it had always been for a red-life, a bone deep urge, a physical necessity.

Cleo and Scott had mused in return—speaking the idea into existence wasn’t anything like doing it themselves, mind, and if BigB happened to pilfer the supplies from somewhere, then good!

He had felt their gaze on him then, like a mark on each eyespot on brown-grey skin. They’d given him an easy trap, like he asked:

Dripstone.

The trap had been deceptively simple, a practice BigB had been intimately familiar with since they’d first been able to cut away the sharp limerock. Cleo had fetched enough to make his carrying bags heavy. It weighed down his steps as he paced and thought over positioning. The setup would be easy to confine to the foyer of any base, easy for someone to step through a front door and down into a maw of dripstone points, easy enough to slice skin on impact. 

Why not try something even simpler, Cleo had told him: A staircase landing. 

BigB had run his tongue over his teeth at the thought, felt the pull of interconnected sight and hearts, as he felt out the server around him.

Jimmy had found him first, BigB’s hands still dusted with limestone and dirt after carefully packing closed his tunnel from under the Bamboozler’s staircase. Or rather, Jimmy had nearly run straight into him. Regardless of whether or not he had them, Jimmy clearly wasn’t using his eyes—physical, metaphorical, or otherwise.

Just short of knocking into him, he’d stopped, and smiled, and his gaze hadn’t felt like much of anything at all. Jimmy had simply moved around him with the ease that only another red-name could feel, smiling, laughing, like nothing in the world mattered more than the moment they were sharing. It had been odd in the same way that it had been welcome. 

If BigB had thought it over (as he was doing now, all in this singular moment), it was a recurring thread in the fabric of these games: he was easy to let his guard down around. It was as easy as breathing, as easy as willing the world to let him pass through the small, fragile fold of time and silence and into the next, moving beat, undetected. 

He had smiled back and had sensed the way Jimmy’s hair stood on end.

Stepping closer, Jimmy’s eyes had been wide to the whites as he looked down into the freshly-dug pit, and BigB had to swallow the urge that rose up in him, violent and oppressive.

If someone had been turning the staircase slow enough, they likely would have seen the perfect slice of ground missing, leaving only black in its wake. But no one did—not even when he had pointed it out, not even when he had stood so deliberately as to make sure that his chosen target was his only kill. 

If he were being honest, Jimmy had slipped into his role then—one he knew nothing of—perfectly, halting Martyn and Grian’s advance up the steps as the Creaking heart beat solid in BigB’s ears. He could feel the world slow around him like he were dragging his hands through something tangible, like time were threads. No eyes watched his movements—it was a cold and soothing relief to not be pinned in place. The world had gone quiet. Not a breath, not a brush of wind through grass. Not a rustle, or a flit, or a heartbeat besides his own. The world had tunneled down to the prickle along BigB’s spine.

Lizzie, laughing, had rounded the corner, and as she slipped, BigB felt the world click.

He breathes as the weight of the world startles him back into a sharp, painful reality.

All eyes turn to BigB for the first time.

He feels the words bubble up in his throat as he’s held in place. Jimmy’s voice, sharp and shrill and on the edge of laughing, startles him first.

“Son of a—” he yelps. “BigB!”

BigB yelps too—mostly a laugh more than anything, his own eyes flickering over the crowd now around him. 

“It wasn’t me!” he shouts. His mind scrambles to place blame—despite the obvious. His gaze snaps to Jimmy. “Jimmy! It was Jimmy!”

Jimmy splutters, squawking in protest, and as soon as most of the eyes leave him, BigB scrambles back, like a moth with its wings unpinned, a rabbit unstuck from a trap, pins and needles shocking through his stiffened limbs as he tumbles over his own feet. 

“It wasn’t me!” He jeers, throwing it behind his shoulder as he stumbles down the stairs. There’s footsteps after him. There are too many heartbeats in his ears—too many people scrambling. Too many letting him slip away. He can hear Scar’s voice above the rest, shouting in disbelief. But BigB’s feet hit the grass, and he’s out of sight.

Not enough people were watching. And that makes him very tricky to catch.

[elliesaysfuckseattle]

Hi this is my first work so I’m excited to post it here!! I’m super open to feedback and I hope you enjoy :) also I wrote this while quite zooted so let’s blame any grammar issues on that!

18+ Work of fiction. AU Ellie in modern times. Men and minors please do not interact!

Content warnings: NSFW, some bondage (handcuffs), capitalism

Through hooded eyes, I can make out the veins in her hands as she grips the headboard above me. The corner of my mouth quirks up in a smirk as I hear her suck in a breath. My nose just barely bumps against her clit, her stomach tensing as a moa-

“You know you need to pay attention if you want to pass this menu test, right?” Ellie asks me, her scarred eyebrow rising as her eyes shine with something similar to amusement.

“Not my fault you decided to quiz me on a packed Friday night,” I retort, hoping the lights are dim enough to cover the pink spreading across my cheeks. Patrons chatter around us about things I could care less about. Hell, as long as those green eyes stayed focused on me, the guests could not tip me at all and I’d be none the wiser.

“Grab a tray for the espresso martinis. And don’t look at them as you carry them across the room.”

I give a quiet “Ay ay, captain,” in reply, which rewards me with a silent glare. I cautiously place the drinks on the tray, distributing their weight evenly and locking my gaze on my table. I hope the confidence I am faking is passable, despite the slight tremor in my hands. She reaches the guests before I do, joking about something that happened one of the hundreds of other times she’s served them.

I may have been out of the industry for the better part of a decade, but even through my rusty skills I could tell that Ellie was a good server. One of the best I’ve seen, honestly. I can’t even be mad when she got cocky at the end of last night, organizing her tips while she cleared what other servers only make on a holiday. I tried to ask her how she makes all her tables feel special, how she has that ‘it’ factor people can’t get enough of. “It’s just psychology.” She murmured distractedly while rooting around in her bag for a lighter. “Everyone thinks the experience they want is unique. Really, they either want you to sell them a bottle of wine like a sommelier and fuck off, or they want dinner and a show. If you want to make money here you need to memorize our wine pairings and their flavor profiles…otherwise you’ll be like all the others here.” She stood slowly as she rose off the bench in the back of the kitchen, stretching her arms above her head. “Now are you smoking with me before I walk home, or not?” She watched me as I mulled it over, but I can’t remember the last time I smoked. I don’t trust myself to not be embarrassing around her, so I shake my head no and promise another night.

My gaze falls to the tray I’m holding as the memory from last night fades. The liquor sloshes against the rims of the martini glasses, a few drops crashing over the side as I suck in a breath. I hold my breath the final few steps, only letting it out once the third glass is placed down. Ellie’s smile is brighter than LED headlights as she places a hand just barely on the plane of my back, telling the table that her last trainee dropped a full glass of water on a bride-to-be during the bridal shower. “I told them to stop hiring kids. I guess they finally listened and gave me someone with a fully developed brain this time.” The table erupts into laughs, even though it wasn’t that funny. Clearly they didn’t need this round of martinis to keep the party going.

“Enjoy! Please let me know if I can help you with anything at all,” I chirp in my customer service voice, a fake smile hurting my cheeks. I walk off, checking in on our other tables as Ellie chats with one of the bar regulars.

Five minutes later, I still see Ellie at that goddamn bar stool. A woman with black hair and cherry lips is looking smitten as her and Ellie sniff a sample of their Sauvignon Bl…Pinot Grigio? Chardonnay? Fuck, I really do need to remember which wine bottle is which. I can barely hear the timber of the woman’s voice at the side station as I print the check for a table, “I am buying tequila shots, and I insist you take the other with me. You know your manager won’t care as long as you’re subtle”. I can’t help but roll my eyes to myself. How do these kinds of guests just fall into her lap? Besides throwing themselves there?

I watch her shoot the tequila out of the corner of my eye, her face giving nothing away as she sinks her teeth into the green flesh of the lime. Cherry Lips is over the moon, acrylic nails resting on her upper arm. Eventually, Ellie tears herself away, the alcohol flushing her cheeks and the smattering of freckles across them. She stands close to me as I enter entree modifications into the computer, reading what I input and checking it for accuracy.

“How do you work them like that?” I say exasperated. “How can you get guests to love you?”

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before leaning in closer to me, “Let me smoke you up and I promise I’ll tell you all my tips.”

“Fine. I’m broke.”

Three hours later I swing my legs over her lap on her couch, the bare skin of my thighs peeking out from the pajama shorts she let me borrow. I pass the bong back to her, coughing as the smoke chokes my throat. She laughs, reassuringly patting my back, “You’ve got that, breathe through it.” I turn into her, my head tucked into her shoulder.

We’re both quiet as we realize how close to her neck my lips are. I see her bloodshot eyes flutter closed on each exhale, my breath sweeping across her pulse point. My head rises as my lips softly dance across her exposed neck. “This okay?” I murmur, and her quick nod coupled with the heavy breathing push me to keep going. I press my lips harder into her neck, my tongue languidly brushing under her earlobe. I continue, tugging her earlobe gently between my teeth and circling it. My tongue softly follows until Ellie’s hands are on my shoulder, pushing my back against the seat of the couch.

Her jade eyes loom over mine, as her chest rises and falls with the pattern of her flustered breathing. “I need to feel you on me,” she trails off, flicking her gaze down. Our mouths crash together, and I moan into her mouth when she gently sucks my bottom lip. Her teeth bite it deliciously, causing another moan as my eyes roll back. I feel as if her lips are melting me at each moment. I’m still kissing her as I use one arm to prop myself back up, switching to where I now straddle her. My thumb caresses her jaw as we continue to make out, and she lets out a breathy sigh.

“You sound so pretty for me,” I whisper into her ear, “such a good girl.”. Ellie whimpers at this, the noise softly settling in the room. I quiet it with a kiss, swallowing her moans. “I love how you kiss me, I’m so wet right now.”

“Ellie please ride my face.” I insist. “I want to feel you cum on my tongue.”

Her eyes shoot open, checking if I’m actually serious. I lift my eyebrows and nod, to which she grabs my wrist and practically drags me to her bed. I settle in on the middle of the centre of the bed, but she shakes her head, “I want you up by the bedposts. I need something to grab,” with an embarrassed smile. I chuckle and comply, my head now pressing against the wood of her bed frame. She settles her weight on top of me, but then grabs my wrists. Before I can protest, she has each hand cuffed to a bedpost.

“Holy fuck,” I sigh, hips grinding into her mattress. “You’re so fucking hot, Ellie.”

She grins before hovering above my face, just out of my mouth’s reach. I crane my neck and she lifts her sparkling core away, chuckling. “I can’t just let you have all the power, can I?” she asks. I moan, still trying to reach her pussy. She takes pity on me and lowers herself onto me. I can’t help but go right to her clit, wanting it to pulse for me. I lick a stripe up her center, collecting her juices on my tongue before swallowing. “You’re as sweet as I thought you would be.”

She moans louder now, one of her hands finding my hair and getting tangled in it. She uses her grip on my hair to ride my face and use my tongue. Her hips stutter around me as she continues, and I can’t control the moan I make into her. Her pace quickens as she begins to climax, her taste coating my lips. Her eyes lock onto mine as her mouth opens, a heavenly string of “oh my god”’s falling from her kiss-swollen lips. I can see her stomach tighten, and I keep pace with her soaked core as she starts to cum.

“Is my good girl cumming for me? Yeah?” I ask as she nods, loud moans filling her bedroom. She quivers on my lips until she is a mess of heavy breathing and overstimulation. Too soon she lifts off of my face, her mouth on mine. “I want to taste myself on you,” she says, kissing me until I am straining against the handcuffs.

She nimbly leans over and undoes them, rubbing my wrists to promote circulation before giving them a gentle kiss. I feel a small smile creep onto my face, her body fitting next to mine as her arm snakes under me. I curl into her, ending up with my lips near her neck again. I lift my head up slightly as I whisper “You so owe me your secret tricks now!”

A grin quickly forms on her lips, “I don’t know, you might have to show me again…” she trails off, laughing as you playfully slap her arm.

[haleswallows]

A wee gift for @little-dreams-of-life based on a prompt from the HxH server. Thank you for the inspiration <3

Timothy Drake is home alone. The Drake Manor is big and quiet around him. He fills it with noise.

This isn’t new or exciting. Tim is home alone a lot. What is new is the crate a FedEx employee insisted on carrying inside when Tim answered the door. The guy asks for an adult to sign for the package, but Tim just stares at him. Tim signs for the thing.

There’s a worried glance tossed in his direction as the courier leaves. But Tim shrugs it off like all the others and closes the door, then does up the locks and security system like he was shown.

Tim is home alone and he goes back to his homework without a second thought to the crate. He fills the quiet house with his own noise. When he needs a break, he skateboards down the hallways. The skate park is better, and Tim thinks about checking the weather report to see if it’ll be nice enough to go after school tomorrow.

Tonight is supposed to be clear. Probably a good night for birdwatching.

He pauses at the top of the stairs, one foot on the floor and the other on the deck, idly kicking it forwards and back. There’s a school field trip soon. Tim won’t be going – there’s no one home to sign his permission slip. If anything, he realizes, it’d be a great day to spend at the park. Even though he really wants to go on the field trip too. There’s nothing to be done about it. He resolves to make the day as good as it can be despite the loneliness that sits like gargoyle on his chest.

The crate sits innocently in the Entrance Hall. Tim peers down at it from the top of the stairs. He purposefully lets his DCs slap loudly on the hardwood of the steps as he gallops down.

There’s no note on the outside. Tim crouches down to look it over, but most of the markings are just shipping labels like “FRAGILE” and “THIS WAY UP – DO NOT TURN”. He doesn’t recognize the consignor address. Last he knew, Jack and Janet Drake were in Cambodia and the crate is from Ireland. But he is familiar with his mother’s handwriting on the Customs manifest in the outside pouch, so at least he can assume it hasn’t been shipped to Drake Manor as a type of postal assault.

The top is nailed down and Tim thinks of the hammer in the groundskeeper’s shed. It takes him only moments to find, but takes almost an hour to prise it open. He’s sweating and annoyed when he finally slides the top off.

Anti-climatically, he’s greeted with packing peanuts. 

Rooting around in the offending Styrofoam unearths a folded note – also written in his mother’s hand. The note is definitely not addressed to Tim, so he sets it aside then continues digging. Tim slowly unearths his parents’ newest relic collectibles, like his very own archeological dig. It’s all the same-old-same-old, old stuff and whatever his parents think is worthy of purchasing. Ceremonial relics, cultural artifacts, ceramic vases and bowls and small votives. There’s one odd wood carving that looks like something he’d have to make in art class.

Nestled in the bottom of a crate is a small wooden box, polished to a gleaming deep brown. The brass hardware stands out against the dark burnish. Tim turns it over in his hands and admires it, appreciating the way it fits neatly in his palm. It’s quite high quality, even Tim can see that. But of course, the box is only an accessory to its contents. There was a fleeting consideration to shake it, but Tim stamped down on the urge. Afterall, whatever was inside was an antique, if not ancient.

Tim puzzles over the small metal figurine inside. The purple velvet lining makes the pewter look like silver. But Tim has no clue what the shape is or what it represents. He squints at it in the waning afternoon light of the hall. The pronged circle attached to a wide rectangle vaguely resembles an ancient depiction of a human, if humans had horns. Or maybe the circle is a torso and the prongs artistic rendition of limbs? The prong is flared, almost like it has a crown.

There's a leather throng looped through the head. Tim thinks it's ugly and wonders what type of person would wear it. Sometimes Mother wore the ancient jewelry they collected, but this wasn't to her usual taste. Thus there must be something culturally important about it.

A mystery. Tim likes those. He likes solving things, he likes worrying his mind over pieces that don't fit until they do. Afterall, it's how he figured out Batman’s and both Robins’ identities and started birdwatching.

He pushes to his feet and jogs up the stairs. The computer in his dad's office has an internet connection. No one ever notices Tim using it. The housekeeper won't be around until tomorrow when he's at school. She won't suspect a thing as long as he turns it off and doesn't make a mess.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Tim trips over his abandoned skateboard. In the moment between losing his balance and hitting the ground, Tim thinks “oh crap” and prepares mentally for impact. Tim is no stranger to the fickle ways of gravity. You don't learn to skateboard without becoming the proud owner of scars and bruises. Tim automatically outstretches his hands to catch his fall

The strange pendant, still clutched in his hand, catches the soft meaty flesh of his palm. Tim hisses in pain, knee smarting. Gathers himself to sit cross legged and kicks the skateboard, annoyed at himself. He carefully uncurls his fingers, then gulps at the large gash on his hand. 

Oh god, Tim thinks while blinking at the deep cut. That definitely needs stitches. Oh shit, who can he call to get stitches? Who can take him? Tim glances around himself as if expecting someone to appear, to come running at the sound of his fall, to coo over his cut. 

A cold feeling fills his belly. Stupid. Tim knows there's no one there to help. But still he looked. Stupid.

Blood drips onto his jeans. He needs to get up, find a first aid kit. Skating is going to suck like this. He blinks back tears.

The light in the hallways shifts, darkens. It's getting late. He really needs to get up. With a sigh, Tim scolds himself then pushes to his feet, hurt hand cradled to his chest. But as he stands, the light continues to ebb away, darkness swirling around him. Tim freezes. The air pressure shifts and Tim shivers in the sudden chill.

“I am Fright Knight, Lord of Fear and the Spirit of All Hallows's Eve. Who dares summon me?” a voice rumbles, echoes, rings through the hallways, deep and haughty. Tim whirls towards it, hands halfway to covering his ears.

And nearly trips again on his skateboard. A man in a pure black suit of armor, glowing a menacing green, floats half a foot over the ground. Tim can't see the man's face as he towers over him, but the green glowing eyes bore into him.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” Tim snaps. Ok, dumb move probably. But what else is Tim going to do? He's twelve and home alone.

The suit of armor tilts its head. Oh right, duh, Tim. It answered that.

“Right, Fright Knight, summoned. Was it this?” He shows the knight his hand and thoroughly bloodied pendant. They both stare at his hand. A quiet plip-plip of blood dripping onto the floor accentuates the quiet.

“Where are your guardians?”

“Not home.” Tim isn’t an idiot. He knows better than to tell people his parents are out of the country. Or that he’s home alone.

“When will they return home?”

Tim stares at the floating suit of armor for a long time. There’s an impression it is squinting at him. He shrugs.

Plip-plip goes his hand.

(Remainder of the fic on ao3!)

[woman-respecter]

On the topic of tankies,

THEY HATE AO3 SO MUCH THAT THEY TREAT IT LIKE THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL AND IT NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME LAUGH 😭

Pre October 7th, most of the blogs I followed had always been very political but seemed normal for the most part.

Now, they're all constantly rage posting about AO3 like it's the most of everyone's problems 😭 it's giving 4chan talking about Jews every second and bringing us into everything not gonna lie.

"You evil queers support Ao3 but question Palestinians on Tumblr, racist genocidal zionazis 🤬" these people are sooo insane. People donating to Ao3 bothers them so much that whenever anything happens now it goes back to Ao3..it's giving Trump blaming everything on the libs

Whenever any sort of injustice trends on here the response from tankies is automatically "you use/donate to ao3 you guys are evil monsters" ???? 😭🤨

Oh and don't forget the constant "this is tumblr staff's fault". They're sooo extremist that suddenly whenever anyone gets banned it's prejudice from the staff. Like girl! You posted blatant antisemitic shit straight from mein kampf but you being banned is somehow *checks notes* a result of the staff silencing Palestinians? 🤨 if you cannot criticise tumblr without immediately diving into batshit crazy conspiracies where every move the tumblr staff makes is bigotry and an attack on minorities idk what to tell you.

Idgaf about anyone hating ao3 but it's very strange to watch how they decide to hate it in the most extremist way possible lmao.

Also obsessed with how they go so left they end up right. Popular responses from leftists about the fake Palestinian scammers was "you people are always poor and ebegging but you draw the line at giving Palestinians money" 😐

Wow being classist towards the people you don't like will surely show them! Also obsessed with how only Palestinians matter in this case. They are allowed to say these things and then get cheered on by many (these posts get thousands of reblogs and likes lmaoo) because Palestinians are experiencing the Worst Thing in The World which means only they matter and anyone who supports them are allowed to say whatever they want in support. Therefore making fun of poor people who ask for money on Tumblr is progressive actually because it's in support of Palestinians.

Funny enough tankies are also homophobic when it comes to hating ao3 and everyone who dares to use that evil website but they're #gay so it's okay 😭😭😭 they'll say shit like "you queers have money for ao3 and never Palestine" first of all targetting gay people when I know many straight people who use ao3 is insanee. 2) where do they get this info from because they are always saying this but i only ever see queers donating to palestinians 😭 are they seriously making shit up to be angry about ? they talk about it like every gay person in the world is donating to the evil ao3 instead of palestine when it's a much smaller number than they exaggerate it to be.

i made a post in like 2021 (which got like 30k notws but i can’t find it bc tumblr search function sux) about how tumblr users would act like its evil to donate to ao3 instead of people’s (like fl****s******e) personal gofundmes but once again you can just replace personal gfms with palestine scam asks this time. really nowadays donating to anything that doesn’t have to do with The Omnicause is seen as EVIL. like chill, people can care about multiple things. plus i bet most of these people raging against ao3 still spend many hours on the site and get free entertainment from it so its like. do u want this site to exist or not because servers cost money and it can’t exist without donations.