#the new chapter is just over 15k words too

[quil12]

I just wanted to post on my tumblr too that I updated this fic - it's the first part of a two part finale and my plan is to have that second part up on the 29th (a week after today), so, if you're interested at all in souyo childhood best friends AU, now's a good time to read it!

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | Masterpost (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆status: on-going (next update: June 21, 2024)

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC and others.

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆total word count: 192.9k (lmao my fingers slipped)

☆a/n: I got the idea for this fic just a little over a year ago, following a power outage that lasted for a few days where I live and Jungkook's live where he kept coming back with different outfits (the white dress shirt hit me right in the gut). It took me a long time to write, as I was working on multiple other projects at the same time, but I am so so happy to be ready to share this baby with you guys <3

☆Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing this monster <3 (and for all your encouragement and support)

☆And a special thank you to @wintaerbaer and @btsborahaee for encouraging me and supporting me whenever I screamed to you about this fic

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆discord server link here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

➳Teaser (Jungkook pov): the day he met you (1.1k)

You fucking touch her, you're dead.

➳Chapter one: when the Incident happens (11.8k)

Jungkook is Tae's best friend.

➳Chapter two: when Jungkook teases you (10.2k)

You know I hate that nickname.

➳Chapter three: when Valentine's Day happens (13.1k)

You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.

➳Chapter four: when you and Jeon Jungkook clash (9.5k)

I was just going to say that we should keep this between us.

➳Chapter five: when you have to go back to reality (12.1k)

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

➳Chapter six: when Jungkook hosts his friends over (9.6k)

I really want to kiss you right now.

➳Chapter seven: when doubt makes you question everything (15k)

Why do you want to believe the worst of me so bad?

➳Chapter eight: when secrets are unveiled in New York (13.5k)

I want you.

➳Chapter nine: when a party makes Jungkook jealous (11.2k)

You make me insane.

➳Chapter ten: when time slips through your fingers (10.1k)

I don’t want to lose you, peach.

➳Chapter eleven: when Jungkook visits Taehyung in Paris (8.4k)

Can’t wait for you to be back.

➳Chapter twelve: when it breaks (7.3k)

I can’t be with you.

➳Chapter thirteen: when it's too late (8.9k)

I have to talk to him.

➳Chapter fourteen: when the truth comes out (12.2k)

We never told each other how we felt.

➳Chapter fifteen: when you find your way back to Jungkook (7.4k)

You came?

➳Chapter sixteen: when Jungkook takes you out on a date (8.9k)

I think I was waiting for you my whole life.

➳Chapter seventeen: when forever awaits you (9k)

Getting to love you is the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me.

Drabbles in Jungkook's pov (might add more as the story goes on)

➳Chapter 1.5: the first party (1.6k)

Then why are you bringing him home, peach?

➳Chapter 3.5: Valentine's Day (1.1k)

We should have hung out like this before.

➳Chapter 4.5: a walk through campus (852)

You love it, peach.

➳Chapter 5.5: the return to reality (2k)

You wanted to talk?

➳Chapter 6.5: hosting his friends at the apartment (4.4k)

What the fuck is wrong with you?

➳Chapter 8.5: the engagement party (453)

Have fun while it lasts.

➳Chapter 12.5: after a call in Paris (596)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

➳Chapter 13.5: a conversation with his mother (644)

Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak.

➳Chapter 15.5: a conversation with Taehyung (1.1k)

It’s never been like that with her.

☆☆☆☆☆

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[sugarandlemonbuns]

fire & ice - chapter one of incompatibly compatible

━ in which you are one of the college's top role model students known for her excellent grades and blinding looks, but when hwang hyunjin, the new transfer student arrives, he quickly seizes your spotlight and begins to ruin your plans.

'they're incompatibly compatible.' ⎯ 2k words

pairing: hyunjinxf!reader | tags: enemies to lovers, collegeau!, use of alcohol, slow burn, fluff, angst, and smut. fashionista!mc, model!hyunjin MNI! 18+,

A/N: this is my first series, i hope you enjoy it!

contents page here

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚━˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hear it everywhere. 

Walking down the hallways, clutching onto your bookbag, you try not to roll your eyes in irritation as you hear the slurred whispers and gossiping chatter. A few words bounce between the walls, helping you to piece out some of what they are saying. A new transfer student is arriving tomorrow afternoon. What’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s some prophet sent down from heaven to finally solve world hunger. 

That doesn’t matter to you. You’re currently Winterville’s top and most popular student, and you cannot let irrelevant gossip like this get in your way of achieving your goal. Majoring in graphic design, you wish to become someone important in the fashion industry – a well-renowned fashion designer. And nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal, nothing. 

But what sets your head ablaze just a little bit is that for the first time since you’ve stepped foot into this college, no one’s gaze is on you. There are usually many greetings from others as if you’re their friend, or some more guys trying to shoot their shot. Sometimes there would be random people catcalling you. It’s not like you hate that no one’s paying attention to you for once, it's actually sort of nice, but it’s just weird and different. And you don’t like different. At all.

Before you know it, you reach your dorm. Taking out your keys from the front pocket of your bookbag, you twist them in the lock and walk inside, seeing your roommate Lia singing a song while elegantly playing on the keyboard.

Winterville College is known for its talented creative arts students, ranging from art students to dancers. You and Lia happen to be one of them. While she is training to become a songwriter and vocalist, you are majoring in graphic design in hopes of a competent job in the fashion industry - or even more.

‘Nice playing,’ You give a remark so she notices that you’ve arrived. Locking the door and tossing your bookbag to the side, you lie down on your bed for some relief after your tiring lecture.

‘Nice designing.’ Lia winks back, referring to the unfinished mannequin covered in scattered pieces of fabric. ‘Very… abstract.’

‘Shut up, I haven’t even started,’ You laugh, ‘And it’s due next week, I’m so screwed!’ Lia stands up from the keyboard and takes a seat next to you.

‘So, miss popular. How was today’s stampede of compliments down the hallway huh? ‘Oh! Y/n how was your day? Oh, y/n, what class did you have! Oh, y/n what-’’ You interrupt Lia by slamming a pillow on her face, causing her words to turn muffled.

‘Oh, shut up,’ You throw the pillow away and she exaggerates catching her breath, ‘I didn’t even get any of that. Which is weird, because everyone was just talking about the new transfer student. I don’t even see what the big deal is anywa-’

‘Hwang Hyunjin! The new transfer student oh my god I forgot to mention!’ Lia jumps up in excitement, pulling out her phone. 

‘Seriously? Not you too!’ You groan, taking the pillow to cover your own face this time. 

‘You’re so cold Y/N. Here, look!’ Lia pulls the pillow from your grasp to shove her phone in your face. It shows an Instagram profile of a man with over 15k followers. You take the phone from Lia’s hand and begin investigating. 

‘You follow him?’ You cock an eyebrow at your roommate and she lets out a nervous giggle before twisting your head to look back at the phone. He has a few posts. Going through them you see how perfectly flawless he looks in every photo. His burgundy hair sweeps beautifully, just enough to show some of his forehead. He has big round eyes that look like they could carry the whole world, and thick luscious lips that you can’t help but want to touch.

Looking through the comments you can see they’re filled by mostly women, sending flirty and suggestive lines. Does he even read his comment sections, it looks like he hasn’t replied to a single one. How cocky is he that he doesn’t even pay attention to his fifteen thousand fans?

‘See! He’s so good-looking!’ Lia smiles widely down at you.

‘You got a crush on him or something?’ You chuckle, only to be responded to by a deadpan face.

‘No. I’m into someone else.’

‘You’re what! Who? Why have you never told me this!’ You stand up in shock and tackle her down to the bed. She brushes you off and continues talking. 

‘Anyway… Hyunjin is from some rich family, he’s Korean, and…’

‘Hey! Tell me! Tell me!’ The two of you end up in some wrapped-up brawl on your bed saying two random unrelated topics at once until Lia breaks you two apart and stands up. 

‘I’ll tell you if you buy us ice cream right now.’ 

‘Deal.’

Two ice-creams later, she’s going on about a guy named Felix she met outside campus who is apparently a dance major, and that he asked her out on a date that’s happening tomorrow. You listen intently as she babbles on about everything, from his looks to his possible friend circles. She promises to tell you everything after the date tomorrow, and soon you both fall asleep on your bed. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚━˚ʚ♡ɞ

Your most recently assigned assessment has your head aching. Each graphic designing student was to choose a season of the year – whether it was Summer or Autumn – and create a fashion piece that was both stylish and practical. You chose winter, which was probably the stupidest thing you’ve done. You wish you could turn back time, but there’s only a week left until the due date, so what are you supposed to do?

The season was currently Autumn. Of course, you made the most impractical decision.

The sun had just risen and you were walking to grab coffee for you and Lia. Reaching the local coffee store, you stared through the windows to see mountains on mountains of people in lines. Just great. It would take forever to get your coffee and you really wanted to get some part of your assessment done before your first class of the day. What was everyone doing up so early anyway? 

As you are contemplating what to do, you hear someone behind you call out your name. What the hell? Turning around, you realise it’s another one of those people who like to pretend to be your friend. You see them rushing up towards you, bringing others behind them. 

Usually, you’d make a run for it, but they’re all in your face before you know it, going off about some random gossip. You’re tuning out until you hear that same name again.

‘Hwang Hyunjin!’ You freeze and stare at the group of people, feeling intrigued.

‘Wait um, could you please repeat everything you just said again?’ You want to know what the hype about this new kid is, and how it can concern you.

Someone from the back of the group speaks up, ‘Hwang Hyunjin, the new transfer student. How do you not know?’ 

‘Yes I know…’

Another person you don’t recognise speaks up as well, ‘How do you feel?’

‘How do I feel?-’

‘Yes, how do you feel about him taking your top student spot?’

‘What?’ That comment sets your head on fire. Since you joined Winterville in freshman year you made sure to diligently work your way to the top. And after piles on piles of effort, you had it. You were the top of looks, the top in popularity, and the top student. No one has ever been close to taking that away from you. 

‘Hwang Hyunjin! He’s from the rich Hwang family. He’s bound for success, and he’s so good looking too. So, how do you feel?’ 

‘How do I feel?’ Crowds of people begin to form around you and your buried overwhelmed feelings start to take over. Your vision feels hazy and the crowds of people chattering around you start to go in and out of your ears. It feels like amplified radio static, and you want to crumble to the ground and yell at everyone. ‘No fucking way that’s going to happen.’ 

You push away from the crowds of people, breaking free and walking away. You make sure to ignore all the people trying to chase you up. Fisting your skirt and biting your lip, you walk back to the campus with no coffee in your hands. Just a strong urge to punch someone you haven’t even met. Who was this guy and what was he doing trying to take away everything you’ve worked so hard for the last three years?

What were all these lifeless and gossiping people doing with their time anyway? It was fucking 6 in the morning. And out of nowhere, you suddenly had a huge grudge over someone you’ve never even spoken to.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚━˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Sitting in your first class of the day, you bury your head in your hands. You’re slowly drifting to sleep. Business studies was never a subject you would’ve chosen, but it’s necessary if you want to open your own fashion company one day. You never sleep in class, but all these thoughts of a random person taking your position in this college are gradually getting to your head. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to sleep in one class. You’ll definitely catch up later. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the lecture room door swings open. Trying to remain unbothered, you dig your head into the desk, trying to go back to sleep.

‘Class!’ Your professor speaks up, almost cheerfully. Since when was he ever happy? Giving up on your sleep you raise your head to see the person who just entered the room. Oh fucking hell. ‘I’m very delighted to say that Hwang Hyunjin, the college’s new transfer student will be joining our class!’ Since when was the professor delighted? This random man just walked into the room and was changing everything just with his eyes. Did he have fucking telekinesis or something?

‘Hyunjin, this room is quite full but there must be a seat somewhere…’ You look around the room and see only a few empty seats, one of them on your right. Please don’t sit here. Please don’t sit here. Please don’t sit here. ‘Ah hah! There’s a seat right next to Miss L/N over there. Y/N, could you raise your hand?’ Shit. Of course, he had to pick the seat next to you.

You slowly raise your hand and you feel the room’s gaze on you. The class bursts into a field of whispers and you just know this will be spoken about later on.

‘Top student sitting next to top student! How perfect.’ Did he just call the new guy, a top student? He just walked in! This was the first class of the day! You hear the whispers become louder as Hyunjin makes his way to the seat next to yours, taking his delicate time. He’s practically like fire – with the same burgundy hair from his Instagram, plump lips, and glossy eyes. The way he walks is burning too. Flames are bursting in a trail of his path, and you want to roll your eyes at his vain manner. But you don’t because now he’s right next to you. 

The professor continues on with the lesson and you decide to actually pay attention now. 

‘So you’re the top student huh?’ Hyunjin cockily whispers. You turn your head from the lecture powerpoint to face the boy next to you.

‘Excuse me?’ You raise an eyebrow at his tone, fighting the urge to punch his perfect face.

‘You heard me,’ His attitude is just as you imagined. You’re slightly happy because it gives you a reason to dislike him. ‘I’ve been hearing it all around. You’re the top student, and I’m going to be taking your spot.’

‘Watch it!’ You eye him up and down. ‘I’ve fought so hard for this spot. You can’t just take it away.’ You still remember when they announced the student rankings the year before, opening your email and seeing the number one. It was the most accomplished you have felt since your family degraded your skills before moving out.

‘Really?’ He leans in closer to you. It’s almost uncomfortable with how thin the proximity is right now. ‘Watch. Me.’ 

That ticks you off. If you could, you would’ve slapped him in the face and walked right out, but unfortunately, you’re in a lecture room with a hundred other people. But then he gives a sly smirk and returns to the papers in front of him, scribbling down some stupid notes that he probably doesn’t understand. 

You scoff, glaring at him to do the same, hoping he gets the reciprocal memo. 

He’s like a cocky firepit, and you are as cold as ice. Placing you two next to each other was a mistake because you’ll never mix unless the other dies.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚━˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

chapter two here (tbc)

[thebarontheabyss]

Hello patrons!

Exciting News: I've just released the prologue of Chapter 3, and it turned out to be unexpectedly longer!

What was initially meant to be a brief segment somehow expanded into a whopping 15k words! Oops.

The next part I'm working on, the night shift, promises to be even more eventful.

Here are a few spoilers:

Death indulging in a bit too much liquid courage and getting absolutely hammered

A tense showdown between Yaga and the Devil

The arrival of a representative from a distant realm, here to collect a long-standing debt

Could it be that Shelly has a secret crush?

A late-night rendezvous with the Witch

A sneak peek into the mysterious enigmatic Hastur

Plus, a plethora of other afterlife shenanigans!

Also, if you find the time, I'd greatly appreciate any feedback or comments you could provide on the game's topic over at the Choice of Games forums.

Your input not only helps the game gain more exposure but also provides invaluable constructive feedback to enhance the experience. Your support means the world to me!

Looking forward to seeing you at the bar – cheers! 🍻

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER SIX

WISH UPON A PAPER PLANE [1 pt.]

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, slight manga spoilers, profanity, mentions of alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, touch-starved!Gojo, slight yandere themes (if you squint);

Words count: ~15k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[Nov 23, 2019; 10:51pm; hunter's headquarters]

You stared at the contents of the refrigerator in bewilderment. You closed the door and immediately opened it again trying to make sure you weren't crazy. All the chocolate milk you had bought just yesterday was gone.

It's been going on ever since you had another lodger in your workroom; it didn't matter that you bought twice as much of anything when he arrived, it all disappeared as fast as it appeared.

You came to your senses with the click of the kettle boiling. You calmly brewed the tea, automatically added six sugar cubes to the mug, set it on the table, and then began to pick up the things scattered around the room.  

A redhead appeared in the doorway. "Adoptee, borrow me earphones."

Holding the pile of things in your hands, you glanced over your shoulder at Rachel. She was already dressed in a black uniform; her perpetually unruly hair was tied back in a high ponytail, she wore a black mask with small notches on the sides of it, she had a belt around her waist to which a hip harness was attached, and she was holding a pair of boots. "In the bedside table."

Rachel tapped the mask. "And new respirators."

"Top right drawer of the desk."

"And also elastic bandages."

You tried not to roll your eyes. "Look on the bottom shelf in the closet."

When she found everything she needed, Rachel plopped down in your chair and started bandaging her legs. "Who's that in there?" she asked casually, nodding toward the bathroom door, where you could hear the muffled sound of water.

Gathering up all clothes, you tossed them into the laundry basket. "Three guesses," you mumbled.

Rachel raised her eyebrows playfully. Even though she was wearing a mask, you knew her enough to realize she was biting her lower lip right now. "Is there something between ya two?"

"Definitely," you spread your palms apart, as if trying to measure something. "A huge household chasm, for example."

Rachel chuckled as she continued to bandage her legs. "That bad?"

"Well, not really," you said a little hesitantly, stepped closer to Rachel and sat down on the table. "Once I asked him to throw some of his own clothes in the washer, and, uh… he threw his black t-shirt in with my white clothes," it was supposed to sound like an excuse, but saying it aloud only made you bury your face in your palm more making your next words sound muffled. "I don't have any more white clothes."

"Don't ya think he did it on purpose?" inquired Rachel, pulling on her boots. "Ya know, so you wouldn't ask him for anything else."

You took on a blissful look so suddenly that it made Rachel cringe, and question your normality for the umpteenth time. "Nah, I'm not sure of anything anymore. I'm just graciously accepting the trial God has sent me."

"Why don't ya just punch him a couple times?" she turned to you, jumping up from her chair and starting to stretch her arms.

You sighed ruefully, grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. "Calm down. I'll definitely get over this one somehow. A couple more months and I might even be able to put up with his God complex."

A hurried exclamation was heard from the bathroom. "Y/N! Where's my uniform?"

You rounded your eyes indignantly, and Rachel hissed because your grip on her shoulder had gotten too strong. "I put it right on the door in front of your nose!" you exclaimed trying to shout over the sound of the water.

"Adoptee, easy," Rachel whined trying to remove your hand from your shoulder.

You tore your gaze away from the bathroom door and perked up. "Sorry," you mumbled guiltily and pulled your hand away.

Gojo came out of the bathroom. You let out a silent sigh of relief when you saw that he had deigned to get dressed after all. Even though he was already in his uniform, drops of water fell from his damp hair onto his cheekbones slowly dripping down, and your mind was already drawing his protruding collarbones. You slapped your palms gently over your face. What were you even thinking? "Mochi," he turned to you, coming closer and closer. "Did you make tea?"

He had already gotten close enough to stand between your legs when you fumbled for the mug on the table and shoved it at him literally pressing it into his chest, pushing him away from you.

"Thank you," Gojo chirped. When he brought the mug to his lips, his expression changed and he frowned his eyebrows seriously. "You added sugar, didn't you? Otherwise, I won't drink it."

You stared blankly at his face for a few more seconds, and then a nervous laugh escaped your lips. You turned to Rachel, and for a second it looked like your eyelid was twitching. "If I do end up in the electric chair, tell everyone it was self-defense."

Rachel nodded understandingly, and jumped out of her chair and headed briskly for the door, forgetting her respirators and headphones leaving them lying on the table.

"Wait!" you shouted after her, but your exclamation was answered only by the metallic creak of the door slamming shut.

Shaking your head in annoyance, you stood up from the table and picked up Rachel's belongings, and before you knew it, his arms were gently around your waist and he rested his chin on the top of your head. "It was a joke. You know I'll drink poison from your hands, right?"

Dazed for a moment, you tilted your head and looked his fingers that delicately traced the fabric of your sweater. He was becoming more touching by the day. "Enough. The temptation is already too strong," as you continued to look at his hands, your gaze locked onto the black uniform. Will ya be gone for long?"

"I'll try to get back as soon as possible," he said to the reason he held in his hands.

He had to hold on harder because for before he could blink, you slipped out of his embrace. "Okay. If anything happens, text me."

Gojo had long since ceased to boast of his strength at such phrases you said; he comforted himself that you said such things not out of underestimation but out of concern, and the thought was so soft he wanted to drown in it. "I can only write to you if something happens?"

"If I say 'yes', will that stop ya taking pictures of every bush and sending them to me with a note saying they look like me?"

"I don't think so."

You nodded understandingly and looked away, but he noticed the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes. You were smiling. "I gotta go. While Rachel and Issu are still here, I need to give some guidance."

You had barely reached the workroom door when you heard his voice again; you had to strain your hearing, for this time he sounded unaccustomedly quiet. "Say you'll miss me."

You felt nothing but joy. The joy of standing with your back to him so he wouldn't notice your surprised eyes, and when you turned around, there was nothing left of the surprise. "See ya," you threw over your shoulder, and the metallic creak of the door slamming shut reached his ears.

***

The three of you were standing on the practice field.

You screwed the respirators harder into the young man's stiff mask and pulled them apart to make sure they fit tightly. His gaze was off to the side and completely blank. You raised your hand up and made a rotating motion with your index finger. He obediently turned his back to you. You looked him over from head to toe, and rubbing your chin, you pulled him up by his belt, where a small hip bag was attached, and tightened the clasps more firmly. He didn't make a sound - you took that as a signal that he was comfortable. You put your arm around Issu's shoulders and turned him around to face you. "Everything alright? Did the mask fit okay? Straps aren't pulling?"

He only shook his head.

You threw a glance at his black disheveled hair falling over his shoulders, then pulled off your scrunchie and held it out to him. "Put ya hair up."

While he obediently tied his hair, you kept looking at him and thinking about how you'd never heard his voice.

Rachel stood beside him and with her hands at her sides, beat the toes of her boots rhythmically against the ground.

Thud-thud.

Issu had already managed to deal with the unruly strands that were poking out, and he was tying the last knot of the elastic band.

Thud-thud.

He shifted his gaze to you, waiting for further instructions.

Thud-thu—

"Calm down!" you barked in Rachel's direction.

"How much longer?" she whined before you could even utter your word.

"Okay," you turned in her direction and clasped your hands together across your chest, exhaling noisily through your mouth. "Now ya. What aren'twe doing?"

"Don't get kid in trouble," Rachel mockingly high-pitchedly teased you.

"Good," you said with a cluck of your tongue and turned back to Issu again. "Now ya're just going to see what the void looks like and try to get used to the sensation. Ya go out through the first rift you see; Rachel will continue raid alone. Clear?" kid nodded and you pull your phone out of your pocket. "Let's check it out."

While Rachel rolled her eyes irritably, Issu already had his phone at the ready. You unlocked the screens and carefully made sure the dials, down to the seconds, went on simultaneously. "Did ya check your watch against your phone?" you turned to Issu. The kid nodded.

"See ya," you said and took a few steps away from them.

"Finally!" exclaimed Rachel enthusiastically, and with maddening lights in her eyes, grabbed the kid's shoulder. You covered your eyes sharply with your forearm.

A purple glow swept across all visible space like an instant tsunami. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You pulled your hand away, and glancing at the darkened crowns swaying in the distance, you sat down on the cold ground and waited for Kyle.  

***

It was past midnight. Gojo shivered as he looked at the figure of you sitting in the distance, shrouded by the restless wind that had risen in the night. Your habit of running out of the house without outerwear at any time of year made him want to either mock you or silently walk over and give you his. Or maybe both. When he imagined you drowning in his jacket, he shyly lowered his eyes to the floor and grinned. After a couple of long breaths, he finally looked at you again, and took a step toward you.

His eyes stung, and he tried in vain to blink away the discomfort. When he gave up, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the backs of his palms against his eyelids; a purple flash was imprinted on the other side of his closed eyes.

Finally wiping the discomfort from his eyelids, Gojo opened his eyes, but only to see your figure clutched in another man's arms. You and Kyle were holding each other, swaying from side to side as if dancing; he wasn't sure if the man was saying anything to you, but he was sure he could hear you laughing. He seemed to forget one thing at times, which was your main difference.

You've never been alone.

His teeth clenched involuntarily and hard, and he buried his face deeper into the long collar of his uniform, and immediately tucked his hands into his pockets. When he saw you, he'd forgotten why he'd left the house in the first place, but the tight fabric of the clothes he was pinching reminded him that he had to go on a mission.

Glancing once more at your never-disengaged silhouettes, Gojo in one motion pulled the mask that had been hanging around his neck all this time over his eyes and disappeared before you would have been able to notice him. 

[Nov 25, 2019; 04:02am; United States, Montana, Granite County, Garnet]

You finally sat down on the porch of one of the abandoned houses; the path down the washed-out dirt road seemed impossibly long, and your shoes, covered in mud, felt leaden. Behind the towering trees in the hills around the abandoned town or the chirping of the early birds - you tried to catch a glimpse of anything.

You pushed the container away from you, and, unable to resist any longer, you lay down on the porch and stared up at the night sky. Here, in the wilderness, it was unobstructed and unobscured, the noise of light inherent only in inhabited, living places.

The more you gazed into the high night abyss, the more stars appeared on it; they appeared just as a pattern on a table would appear from beneath a layer of dust as if someone were slowly tracing it with a hand.

Was there anything out there? Beyond the observable universe, beyond the entire universe - anything at all? Swallowing the feeling of something exorbitant and unattainable, you raised yourself on your elbows as if it would help you somehow get closer to the sky. Whether the expanses of the universe drew you in with their mystery or drowned you with their silence, you were only concerned with one question: did they long for you as you longed for them?

With difficulty, you looked up from the sky and glanced at your watch. You'd agreed to meet at four a.m. sharp, but the hands were already past half past four. The insider wasn't coming.

With a frustrated sigh, you stood up to your full height and looked up to the heavens once more; barely touching your fingers to your lips, you blowed a timid shy kiss.

As you picked up the container, your hearing picked up a methodical and approaching tapping sound; it was muffled and barely perceptible. Carefully setting the container down, you stepped out onto the dirt road, and tried to look. At first your eyes caught nothing but darkness, but soon you saw the source of the tapping - a cane, and behind the cane as if out of nowhere, a man holding it.

The closer the man came, the smaller he seemed, and when he came close he was almost a head shorter than you. He raised his head, and from beneath his gray hat you were met by a aged but still shining look; his eyes were adorned with a kindly squint, and he held out a wrinkled hand to you. "How the killers from the North doing?"

"More like from the East," you shook his hand firmly.

The older man's thick mustache muffled the chuckle that escaped him. "The rest didn't bother you?" he unclenched your palm, and rested both hands on the handle of his cane.

You interlocked your fingers together and gave a long hum. "Nah, not really," you said shaking your head slightly.

The old man kept his gaze on you. "Have you lived in the East for a long time?" seeing you shake your head from side to side once more, the old man grinned condescendingly. "From the height of my years, I can say that it was in the North that the first hunter appeared-"

"And I dare not argue with ya," your respectful tone was at odds with your actions. It seemed to the old man that, under his gaze you would give in, yield, and give him - if not from status, then from age - the respect he deserved. And you did. But why did the old man find himself under the gaze of your slightly widened eyes?

He swallowed quietly and turned his gaze back to the container. You were leaning closer to his face inch by inch.

The old man clenched his teeth; he felt as if a huge fanged drooling mouth were breathing down his cheek. He turned sharply in your direction, and you immediately recoiled from him chuckling; there was not a shred of danger in your face, except for a benevolent squint. "Did ya bring it?"

"I brought it, yes," said the old man grimly, and adjusting his collar, tapped a dirty cane on the container. "Only that won't be enough. You know it's hard to come by in the present realities."

You nodded briefly. "I'll bring two next time."

"Six," the old man said.

"Three."

"Five," he persisted.

"Three or I'll take away what ya brought by force."

The old man was glad your ugly smile was hidden by the mask. He pulled a matchbook out of his gray suit pocket and held it out to you.

"Thank ya," you chirped taking the box from him. The old man didn't resist, but walked over to the container and picked it up. Despite his frail build, it was easy for him. You pressed your lips together. "Ya even know where the hunters came from, but where ya came from, ya still won't tell me?"

The man cast a glance in your direction over his shoulder. "Girl," he snorted condescendingly. "Only if you weren't human would I be able to explain it to you."

"Yeah, of course," you muttered idly, turning the matchbook in the palm of your hand. The old man turned to face you, and you gave him another glance. "One last question. Do ya know where Rei is now?"  

Black lines spread across the old man's lower eyelids, and his rounded glass eyes turned black. He took a step back. "No," he hissed.

You rolled your eyes irritably, for the man had disappeared too quickly for a truthful answer. You waved the old man away in your mind, and opened the box pulling out a tiny clear bag, staring at the creamy beige dust it contained. You would have stared at it longer if it hadn't been for the phone notification.

[04:31am] Kyle: Issu came out of the void

[04:31am] Kyle: The kid got bilateral pneumonia and dehydration, but overall, he's fine.

[Nov 26, 2019, 05:37am, hunter's headquarters]  

Gojo stood in the doorway of the workroom; his entire uniform was covered in dust and dirt, but he didn't have a scratch on him - as usual, he had come home infinitely alive.

Half of the desk drawers were pulled out; pens, vitamin jars, notebooks, devices that looked like thin black spider webs, and an inordinate number of written and blank sheets of paper were strewn across the floor - he had a few seconds to look at the mess you'd made, but not enough time to look at you. He was standing with his head against the doorjamb watching you and your every move; you were sitting on the floor, shuffling through some papers, humming something to yourself and moving your shoulders rhythmically, apparently to the beat of the music.

"Are you kidding me?" asked Shoko in a monotone voice. "Get up."

Gojo flopped down on the hospital bed where Ieiri had just changed the bedding and buried his face in the pillow.

"Get up already," she said, but he didn't move. Shoko sighed irritably, but sat down in the chair that was next to the bunk. She knew for sure she would regret her next words. "If you don't want to leave, then just tell me what's wrong already."

Gojo raised his head sharply. "I don't understand!" he exclaimed, and Shoko involuntarily squeezed her eyes shut at the loud sound. "I'm trying to make contact, to bond in some way, to form a friendship, and she!" he almost gasped with indignation. "I even walk around half-naked in front of her, and she looks at me like I'm an earthworm!"

"Disgusted?" asked Shoko wrinkling her nose.

"SHE DOESN'T LOOK AT ME AT ALL-"

Shoko abruptly covered his mouth with her hand, only for him to stop screaming like that. "Stop yelling," she hissed, and he nodded exhaling into her hand in defeat. Ieiri removed her palm. "Form a friendship, you say," she summarized skeptically. "Tell me, how often have you flaunted your bare torso in front of Suguru, then thrown tantrums about him not paying attention to you?"

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out; only an inarticulate snort and he turned away from her.

Shoko shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know what's on your mind, but don't you think you just romanticized the image of her in your head and now you're just pissed off that she's not acting the way you thought she would?"

"I've never done that."

"Oh, really?" she muttered raising her eyebrows. "How much do you know about her anyway?"

Gojo buried his face in the pillow again. There was a quiet, suppressed 'Back off'.

He immediately wanted to leave. He'd come here for comfort, not sticky guilt.

Shoko looked over his motionless figure before patting him on the back. "Well, go find out."

He pulled away from the pillow and finally assumed a sitting position tucking his long legs under him. "And you?" he met her questioning gaze. "Well, how do you feel about her?"

"I try not to cross paths with her at all," she replied dryly.

He glanced at her spitefully. "Why?"

Shoko began to restlessly twirl a curl on her finger. "I don't know. Rachel told me that she does something to hunters that makes them either get stronger or die. Guess the outnumber."

A skeptical grin showed on his lips. He couldn't believe his ears. Such words - and from her? "Are you serious?"

"I'm not fifteen years old," she bellowed, and nervously running her palms over her face, tried to pull herself together. "I'm well aware that it's unlikely she's doing this for pleasure or fun. It's just..." Shoko swallowed, and finding a lifeline in the form of a window stared out of it. "I've had two loved ones in my life who committed questionable acts, but somehow they were regretful, doubtful, sometimes even broken-looking. Even though they tried to hide it, you could always tell and that's okay. No matter how powerful the sorcerers are, they're still human," as he listened to her words, he hadn't noticed how long he'd been looking at his interlocked fingers. "And then... Then I look at her, and... I don't know," Shoko shrugged weakly. "It's like she doesn't regret anything. It's like she has no emotions at all."

Gojo had always believed his best friend. Even now he believed that Shoko was telling the truth. Only it was her truth.

Gojo put his palm to his mouth and suppressed a chuckle when you started humming once more, then moved slowly toward you. He stopped a few inches away, nervously fumbling with a tiny souvenir in his pocket.

His fingers were already a few inches away from the fabric of your sweatshirt as you pulled your head up. When you met his gaze, you pulled out your headphones.

He just needed to say hello. The usual word 'hey', there was nothing complicated about it.

Gojo leaned in to be closer to your face. "It's not even six in the morning and you're already villainizing," he gently rubbed his nose against your forehead.

"Back already?" you asked surprised, getting up from the floor. "Are ya okay?"

He went into a stupor. Up until this point, coming home from assignments Gojo had gotten nothing but short nods, questions about how it went or complaints from higher-ups. "Me?" he questioned dully. "Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Except I'm dirty. Uh," confused for words, he bit his tongue. "I-I mean, my uniform is dirty. See?" Gojo tugged his sleeve and let go sharply causing a tiny cloud of dust to rise.

You lowered your head and bit your lip, trying to calm the spasmodic heaving of your chest. "Uh-huh," you muttered quickly putting your palm to your lips. Coughing, you looked up at him again squinting your eyes.

He hid his face in his palms. "If you laugh now, I swear to God, I'll cry," Gojo mumbled.

He barely had time to say the words before you burst out laughing. "Please, just get in the shower," you turned to the computer waving one hand away from him and the other away from the tears that were coming, and he turned on his heels and headed for the bathroom.

Gojo slammed the door shut with force, and walked over to the mirror to meet his flushed face. "That witch," he muttered clenching his cheeks. "Pull yourself together," he quietly slammed his palms on his face.

He removed the mask hanging around his neck and quickly threw his jacket to the floor. Something clanked along with the familiar thud.

There was the sound of a palm slapping against his forehead. He'd forgotten to hand over the souvenir.

That thought made him shower as quickly as possible; he even forgot to apply the rest of (your) moisturizer to his body.

After getting out of the shower, he flew over to the dresser and pulled out a drawer, but the contents - or rather, the lack thereof - made him furrow his brows. Gojo quickly rummaged through all the drawers, but found no clean clothes.

He looked around the bathroom absent-mindedly. All that was left was a towel. 'That's even better,' he thought to himself smiling stupidly.

Gojo slipped the towel over his hips and looked at himself in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair tucking it back; a few unruly strands did fall into his face. He took a couple of deep breaths and walked out of the bathroom clutching a small gift in his hand. 

You were still standing with your back to him looking at something on the monitor. "I'm not looking," you nodded over your shoulder not looking away from the screen.

Gojo gave a barely audible chuckle. "That's a pity."

"What is it?" you asked stretching the words playfully. He was moving quietly toward you, not paying attention. You flipped your hair to the side exposing the back of your head - he gulped. "Has magic stopped putting clean clothes in the dresser?" You saw something on the screen that made you squeeze your thigh with your hand – it almost took his breath away. "Ah yes, that wasn't magic either. It was me," with a splash of your hands, you turned around and almost collided with his still-water-damp chest. You wanted to take a step back, but the table, which was already close by, hindered you. You looked up at Gojo questioningly.

Gojo had always thought he could take the stares of anyone; here with you he lowered his gaze and stared somewhere around your collarbones. He coughed softly, picked you up by the waist and before you could say anything, he had you sitting on the table.

Taking your hand, Gojo stroked it gently with his thumb as if to see if it was okay. You sat with your face buried in his shoulder not moving. He rested his cheek against the top of your head, his hand moving slowly up your forearm. He lingered on your shoulder and squeezed it gently, and at that moment he prayed to all the Gods that someone, anyone would turn off the damn sound in this world - because his breathing was too heavy and audible. He ran his knuckles down your neck barely touching the thin fabric of the tight collar. Finally, his fingertips sank into the black mask. He couldn't feel your skin, just an unpleasant tingle. He rubbed his nose against the top of your head forcing you to look up at him, and when your eyes met, he finally unclenched the hand that was against your face. Something jingled.

"And this is for you," Gojo smiled. "When I saw it, I immediately thought that, well... That it looks like you," on one of his fingers on a ring hung a keychain. It was a rubbery little astronaut. You couldn't see his face under his white spacesuit - it was hidden under orange 'glass'. The astronaut had a disproportionately large head, and his tiny arms were spread apart as if he were ready to hug anyone.

Seeing you hesitate, Gojo put the keychain in your hand.

The action made you perk up. "Thank ya," you chirped softly. He nodded briefly but contentedly at your words, but he took his time pulling away from you. His eyes widened at first when he felt your palm on his cheek, but when he felt you start to move closer, he didn't know where to look. To the right? To the left? Down? His gaze darted erratically this way and that, afraid to even move so as not to scare you away. When your lips were at his ear, his vision blurred. "Put ya pants on."

Gojo pulled away from you abruptly. "You!" he raised his hand pointing a finger at you. "You ruined everything!"

You jumped off the table and turned back to the monitor. "Look in the closet, I think there was some left over."

Behind your back, you heard a disgruntled muttering and the creaking of closet doors, followed by footsteps and the squeak of a mattress. 

He could hear the familiar clacking of keys. He couldn't get Shoko's words about not knowing you at all out of his head. "How long you here for?"

"Well... I don't even know," you muttered, not taking your eyes off the screen. "We have a town day coming up on December 5th, and Frank's going to kill me if I don't show up there. Which means I need to get as many things done as possible to keep my head down, and considering I'm going on a raid tonight, there's less and less time."

"You mean there won't be any free time at all?"

"What's wrong?"

"Pay attention to me," Gojo asked quietly. "At least ten minutes. Lay with me."    

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You looked up slowly and saw his figure nestled comfortably beneath your blanket, and you tightened your lips nervously.

"I won't do anything stupid," he said moving to the other edge and patting the seat he'd vacated. "I swear."

"Okay," you replied and walked over to the bed. As you fluffed your pillow, doubt crept into your soul. A viscous and sticky feeling that drowned you like a swamp. Anxiety went hand in hand with doubt, like a person pushing you deeper into the swamp.

You plopped down next to him.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, and in one motion he was on top of you. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his head on your chest. "There's no escape now."

You rolled your eyes. There he was - both the swamp and the man drowning you in it. "You're heavy," you mumbled softly trying unsuccessfully to shove him off you.

"You have to be patient," he murmured wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. Something crunched in your back. Gojo looked up sharply and seeing the tiny wrinkles on the bridge of your nose, he panicked. "I'm sorry! Does it hurt?"

"Ya know... You should learn to calculate your strength," you said quietly squirming and trying to get into a more comfortable position. 

Gojo loosened his grip a little. "I'll try to be more careful next time," he said and returning his head to its previous position, rubbed his cheek gently against your collarbones as if apologizing. He had experience. Combat, worldly, sexual.

But this was an experience he hadn't had yet.

Your hand was already burrowing into his hair. Water dripped from the still-wet strands straight onto your clothes, but you continued to massage his scalp ignoring it.

"Mochi?" he addressed you softly, and he heard you hum something to yourself. "Where are your parents?"

"Not here."

He hesitated a bit before asking the next question. "What happened to them?"

"Dunno."

Gojo furrowed his brows, and a sense of annoyance made him clench his teeth. The dialog wasn't flowing, but he never backed down either. "Your favorite food?"

The range of topics made you chuckle. "With this job I don't have much choice, so I guess you could say I'm an omnivore."

"Wow, what do we have here?" he playfully inquired raising his head. He began to gently nibble and tickle your sides. "An answer consisting of more than two words?"

You tried not to squirm or roll, but you couldn't. Gojo pinched just above your waist, and laughter burst out of you. "That's it, stop it, STOP!" you tried to pull his hands away.

"I won't do it again," he purred with a satisfied smile. "For now," he added laying his head back down. The tickling turned smoothly into stroking. "And your strength... Is it, well... Is it innate or acquired?"

You flicked him gently on the forehead. "What strength do ya keep talking about?"

"So it wasn't you who came in, snapped your fingers and got rid of the curse king?" he asked ironically.

You grinned. "Well, if that's what it looked like to you, then I haven't practiced for nothing."

"You still haven't answered my question," he pinched your side warningly.

You exhaled noisily removing his hand only for him to stubbornly put it back in place. "More like both."

The next question Gojo asked was kind of in-between, but it dumbfounded you. "What about you and Kyle?"

"Uh," you squinted your eyes and slowly swept your gaze around the room as if there was an answer to that question lurking around here somewhere. Or at least a little clarification. "What about Kyle and me?"

"Aren't you two a little too close?" he muttered into the fabric of your sweatshirt.

"What?" still as perplexed as ever, you asked. "What do ya mean? He's my brother."

"He's no relation to you," he blurted out and immediately felt your muscles tense.

"Now that wasn't necessary at all," you hissed unhappily, removing your hand from his head and trying to push him off of you.

"I'll definitely bite my tongue off someday," he promised holding you in place. He lifted his head and stared at your face. "I'm sorry," he whispered childishly tweaking his lower lip.

"Whatever," you said nonchalantly, returning his head to your chest

"One last question. Did anything happen between you?"

You shrugged. "There was a lot going on between us."

It was as if someone had broken off a piece of his rib and put a smoldering coal in it - just like that, everything in his chest was on fire. "What kind of answer is that?" he spat out.

"What kind of question is that?" you asked indignantly raising your voice, and that made him falter. "Look," you said on an exhale, and it was as if all emotion had gone out of you again. "If this keeps up, I'd better get to work."

"Five minutes," he mumbled. "I'll be quiet, really. Just...," he stammered, and shyly took your hand and put it back on his head. "Just let's lie down for another five minutes."

Instead of answering, you started going through his strands again. Gojo exhaled in relief. When you moved to the back of his neck, his breathing slowed with each movement of your fingers. When you heard him sniffle, you wondered if he'd fallen asleep without eating.

Five minutes seamlessly flowed into eight hours.

[Nov 28, 2019; 10:04pm; hunter's headquarters]

The sound of the waves - whether quiet or restless - always soothed tired minds. Maybe the water shimmering in the twilight mesmerized him, or maybe he didn't have the strength to look up at the horizon standing so close to the edge that he could see the waves licking the coastal rocks.

He had never thought of such a thing, he was too strong in spirit. However, in this moment the real him was as if he were looking at himself from the outside, chained and completely immobilized. It had been more than a year since those events, and he had never been able to talk about his feelings, and the others had not dared to ask: some  of them had no idea that all that time his soul had been torn as easily as an old rag; others had no idea what had happened.

He kept looking helplessly at himself, at the other version of himself that didn't have the guts to take one step forward, either one step back.

"Kid!" Itadori flinched when he heard the loud voice that overrode the sound of the water. He couldn't even turn around on his own - he was turned around by a strong hand that rested on his shoulder. "What ya doing here?" asked Kyle, it was impossible to see in the darkness as he squinted his eyes. "Let's get inside," he nudged the boy lightly and Itadori went forward out of inertia. Kyle followed him.

When they were on the doorstep, seeing Itadori heading for the stairs, Kyle put his arm around his shoulders and turned him toward the workroom.

Kyle sat Itadori down in a chair, threw a blanket over his shoulders, and made chamomile tea. Sitting down beside him, he held out the mug to the boy, but Itadori didn't react. Kyle exhaled worriedly and set the mug on the table. "Tell me about it," Itadori kept staring at one point as he continued. Interlocking his fingers, Kyle leaned over and looked into his eyes trying to find something there. "I know this isn't easy. Try to get one word out of you, and it'll get easier from there-

Kyle was interrupted by a ragged sob. Burying his face in his hands, Itadori bent down and began to shudder with his whole body.

It was always good to vent, but it was much better to tell what had gotten you to this point. Taking the mug, Kyle gently but stubbornly grabbed the boy's chin forcing him to look up. "Drink."

Itadori nodded curtly, took the mug and took a couple of sips. His eyes were as red as his crying face. "Tell me," he mumbled, and his lips trembled again. "Have people ever died through your fault?"

Kyle raised his eyebrows in surprise. Since when do such adult problems have such a childish face? "I don't know how ya'll feel about us after this, but I'll even say more than that. We killed people." 

"You...," Itadori began, but feeling a cry coming up to his throat, he sipped from his mug again. "You mean dioreacts?"

"No," Kyle shook his head nonchalantly. "We got over them a long time ago and just accepted as fact that the fusion process was irreversible. What I meant was that we were killing people. Ordinary people."

"But how come..."

"It just happened," Kyle exhaled grimly.

"How do you handle it?" asked Yuji with broken hope in his voice.

Kyle smiled sadly. "We'll tell you when we will," he patted Itadori on the top of his head. "And anyway... Ya're a huge empath, kid. And with a job like this... Well, I guess that's your truest curse."

Itadori didn't have time to say anything before a redhead appeared from behind the door. "I'm actually here for perfume... What's this?" asked Rachel with suspicion in her voice.

She was wearing a tight black evening dress, and her perpetually unruly hair was styled and tossed to the side. There was the sound of high heels clomping in the workroom as she stepped closer to the boys, and after dropping her clutch on the table, she pulled up a chair and sat down next to Kyle.

Rachel looked at Itadori's face, which was as tearful as it was lifeless, and turned a meaningful glance at Kyle. He only nodded awkwardly pressing his lips together. She wrinkled her nose and sucked air through her teeth as if she'd stubbed her finger on paper. "What, the moral compass has snapped a bit?" she turned to Itadori. "Don't worry, everyone's been through it."

"Anyway, what I wanted to say," Kyle began. "We're having a festivity in town on the fifth. And I'd really like to show ya something, so... Whatever you're up to, leave it, okay?" Itadori fidgeted in his chair and stammered. He only realized what he wanted to do when the other person said it. He nodded shamefully wrapping himself in the blanket. "That's good," Kyle smiled warmly, but the smile abruptly disappeared from his face when he looked at Rachel. "Where ya off to again?"

"On a date," she chirped tucking her hair behind her ear.

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and planted his foot on his leg. "Isn't it about time ya settled on one?"

"Look, why ya dancing so shitty?" she hissed glaring at him.

"What are you talking about?" he blurted out angrily

"I thought eunuchs weren't supposed to be disturbed by anything!"

"Shut your mouth!"

They were brought out of their argument by a faint chuckle that sounded like another sob. "Look at it," Rachel muttered glaring at Kyle. "Got the kid down again," she stood up, and taking Itadori under her arm, set him on his feet. She was already taller than he was, but in heels, she was a whole head taller. "Let's get out of here, sweetheart. I'll walk ya to your room," she said and putting her arm around his shoulder, she led a flushed Itadori who was no longer crying away from the workroom.

Looking at them, Kyle reached for Itadori's mug, but there was another one in the way - yours, with unfinished tea. The knock made Kyle jerk and when he turned around, he saw the tea spreading over the scattered papers. "For fuck's sake," he reprimanded you for the mess you left behind.

Kyle picked up the mug and took it to the sink. Returning to the desk, he crumpled up all the papers and tossed them in the trash. Wiping down the desk and coming across the pens and pencils, he tossed it into one drawer; seeing the papers, he tossed them into another. Still holding the rag in his hands, he walked over the surfaces of the furniture wiping away the dust.

He had already washed the few dishes in the sink and put them on the shelves. He came to his senses only when he put a pair of sneakers he'd found under the bed at the doorstep of the workroom.

"That's better," he exhaled contentedly, looking around the room.

There was a click behind him, and Kyle looked back, contentment replaced by rage. He clenched his teeth tightly so they wouldn't end up in the throat of the person who'd entered the workshop.

"Well, hey there," Gojo greeted him tilting his head slightly sideways and smiled.

"You're just an asshole, not a teacher," Kyle spat out into his masked face. As he walked out of the workshop, Kyle didn't even nudge him with his shoulder - he didn't want to touch him that much.

[Dec 4, 2019; 09:47am; Hopetown].

The morning was frosty, fresh, but windless, and the road was long, but long ago trampled and learned by heart, and from this took much less strength than in the first times.

But you were accompanied by newcomers - behind you could hear the heavy breathing from the long climb up the slope; someone was swatting from branches and coniferous vegetation; someone fumbled aside when stone chips fell from the high nearby cliffs.

"Y/N," Yuta's panting voice came from behind you. "How much farther is it?"

Yuta grumbled annoyingly when he heard your cheerful voice. "Nah," you chirped brushing a branch out of the way with your hand. "We'll go up now, and then we can see the town. Then all that's left is to go down."

There was a long exhalation behind you, and some unhappy muttering. "Ya didn't train their stamina at all, did ya?" you asked quietly, turning your head slightly.

"Somehow... I haven't had time for that sort of thing. You know, magic and all that," Gojo muttered on an exhale, dodging another branch. "Can't we just teleport?"

"Ya weak or what?" you taunted him. "Move ya feet, come on. We're almost there."

Overcoming the remaining distance, you pulled back one of the coniferous branches that obscured the view. "Welcome," you said, and bent in a mock bow taking your hand aside and pointing the way.

Surrounded by the mountains that threw a white-colored garment over their 'shoulders', surrounded by the vegetation that was now sleeping under the snow, surrounded by the river that had no beginning and ran away somewhere beyond the mountains, there was a town. The houses looked gingerbread, and the snow lying on them looked like icing.

Slowly floating across the sky, the heavy clouds were touching the peaks of the mountains and cutting themselves not worrying about anything. From up here, everything seemed so quiet as if no one had ever lived here.

You cast your eyes upon a distant cliff hidden in the high rocks, and your thoughts were filled with the troubles of the days ahead.

Now all that's left is to descend as carefully as possible.

***

"Careful, it's slippery!" you exclaimed uncontrollably as Maki stepped onto the bridge leading across the river into town, her foot going sideways. Taking her by the arm, you set off forward together.

It was no longer so quiet. There was clanking, clattering, negotiations, shouts and laughter everywhere. There were dozens of trampled paths: from house to house, from house to warehouse, from storage to powerhouse, from powerhouse to bar, from bar to house. Only one path almost covered with snow went somewhere over the mountain into the forest.

Some houses were made of wood, some of stone, and some of both, whatever material and strength was available. Because of the different landscape, all the houses were on different levels and were hidden behind each other, and the snowdrifts hid them as well. The chimney of each house was filled with thick smoke, and the glass windows were covered with patterns drawn overnight during the winter.

There was a thud behind you. When you turned around, you saw Danielle lying in a snowdrift.

"Dany, are you okay-" you faltered as you saw Megumi run up to her, and gently picking her up by the waist, set her on her feet. They held hands.

There was a disgruntled, indignant muttering above your ear. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You should wear a hat, fancy boy," you said looking at Gojo. "You'll catch cold."

"We're almost here anyway," he said, and smiling, he reached into your pocket with one hand and squeezed your warm palm.

"Okay, okay!" you shouted drawing attention. "We're that way, guys," you pointed to one of the large wooden houses standing on a high hill.

"...look at that, they showed up after all..."

Faces began to show in the windows hiding anger and discontent behind snowy patterns.

"...since when have there been so many of them...?"

People started coming out of the houses. Whether just to spit or to get a better look.

"...They're all kids, has she gone completely insane...?"

You didn't realize how tightly you'd squeezed Gojo's hand. He looked at you worriedly, but there was nothing on your face - the look seemed even emptier than before.

"Hey," he quietly called out to you tapping his finger gently on your cold cheek. "Let's go inside."

You nodded and he led you up the slope. He looked back at you periodically as if he were checking to see if you were missing, if you'd run away - as if he weren't the one holding your hand right now.

Suddenly, something small and fast came at you from the top of the hill - no, not an avalanche - and your eyes only caught a few red strands sticking out from under hat. "Y/N!" the boy squeaked before flying into your arms, and you almost went flying down the hill.

"Hey, Mike," you greeted him, cradling the imp in your arms.

"Where's mom?" he asked peering over your shoulders but only bumping into Gojo.

"I'm sorry, but she's on a raid right now. She won't be back until after the festivity," you stroked his back sympathetically.

"She's always like this," he mumbled frustratedly into your scarf.

"Don't get upset, it's not her fault. She'll come eventually anyway," you tried to cheer him up. You set him on his feet, and noticing that his hat had moved down over his eyes, you corrected it. Tears came out. 

There was a sob that heralded the beginning of disaster. What do you say to a child who's about to cry? That sometimes circumstances are stronger than we are? That tears can't help the grief? Or should you tell him that everything will be fine? Will he even understand what you are trying to say?

The first whimper that came out of Mike's lips was still soft. You put your hand to your forehead in panic trying to think of all the options.

Suddenly, Gojo scooped Mike up into his arms. "We'll be right there!" he exclaimed and you jerked as they instantly disappeared from your sight.

The panic only intensified. You looked around erratically, trying to catch a glimpse of them. What are you going to tell Rachel? That her son was stolen by a madman?

Your heart was stopped from bursting by them also appearing out of nowhere. Gojo's hair was more disheveled than usual, but Mike was hatless, his red hair bunched up in tangles. He sat quietly in Gojo's arms, his eyes full of shock.

"What did ya do to him, you-"

"That was so cool!" squealed a recovered Mike loudly.

"We... We scouted the area a bit. From above," Gojo said shyly, nodding to the sky.

You slapped your palm to your forehead. "He's going to bury us," you muttered quickly. "Frank's gonna bury us. Alive. When he finds out about this."

Gojo lowered Mike to the ground, and the boy immediately burst toward the house. "Calm down, everything's okay."  

You looked at Mike with round eyes. "Now he's going to find out," you whispered quietly. "That's it, we're dead," you started to giggle for some reason, and when you turned around, you saw that you weren't alone. "You're crazy," you said and Gojo kept laughing, pulling you close and burrowing into your scarf.  

***

Under the stare, you both bowed your heads. You were biting your lip and looking at your suddenly interesting shoes. You wished Frank would say something sooner because as so often happens, waiting for punishment is worse than punishment itself.

One of you couldn't take it. He couldn't take it, and he gave up.

"I totally take the blame," Gojo said.

There was a heavy sigh. Frank got up from his chair, walked over to you, and hugged you as hard as he could. "Ya," Frank addressed you in a bass voice. "Grab a shovel and go clean the roads."

A relieved exhale escaped your lips, you clutched your chest. "Thank God!" you squeaked, and before you flew out the door, you shouted: "Good luck!"

"And ya," Frank turned to Gojo squinting his eyes and appraising him with his gaze. "Ya're gonna help me cook dinner." Gojo furrowed his eyebrows incredulously. Was this the whole punishment thing? "Move, son," Frank said and slapped Gojo on the back with such force that his lungs nearly popped out.

"Your arm is... heavy," he wheezed rubbing the sore spot.

Frank only hummed and walked over to the locker and pulled out a bag of potatoes. "Here. Peel." Gojo shrugged, but began to do as commanded. In complete silence they began to prepare dinner, Frank chopping up meat and vegetables and serving him peeled potatoes.

Gojo glanced at Frank furtively, waiting for him to say something, but he seemed too focused. He didn't like moralizing, but at least he was ready for it. Silence was hard to get used to.

Gojo coughed quietly. "So, uh... Where's your wife?" he asked in a grayed voice. "It must be very hard to run a household alone."

"My girl's long gone," grinned Frank popping chopped onions into the pot.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Frank did not faint. "Don't be," he said. "We'll all be there. And besides, I've got great kids."

"That's true," he said quietly, smiling like a fool. Your face flashed before my eyes.

Frank looked at it with a sly look. "How's it going with Y/N?"

Gojo felt the blood rush sharply to his cheeks. "Fine," he wanted to end there, but the next words came out on their own. "Expect she's... I don't know, it seems she shuts people out. I mean, too much."

"She has her reasons," Frank brushed it off, while checking the pie in the oven.

"Like what?" he blurted out.

Frank hummed longingly, examining the golden pie crust. "Do you think we should wait any longer or is it ready?"

Gojo threw the knife into the sink with a loud clang. "Look, under her clothes I counted five scars on her stomach, nine on her back, three on her left arm, and what's on her neck... And that's just what I could feel," he listed angrily. "What happened to her?" he added in a whisper, barely audible.

Frank slowly closed the oven and sighed heavily. "I don't know." 

"What?" squeamishly and incredulously he blurted out his question.

"Cool your jets," Frank said calmly, rising to his full height. "I don't know not because I don't want to, but because my daughter never told me. Shall I torture her? When the time comes, she'll tell me and even if she doesn't, it's my role as a father to support and love her no matter what," Gojo only swallowed hard and nodded briefly, but his clenched fists wouldn't unclench for some reason. "But I'm old," Frank said sadly. "So I have the nerve to ask ya to look after her when I'm gone. You two seem to be...getting along pretty well." 

"I'll protect her," Gojo assured firmly, picking up his knife again and began methodically peeling the skin off the potato trying to calm himself down.

"Son, my daughter doesn't need protection," Frank shook his head. "Yeah, and caring isn't just about that."

"What else, then?" he asked quietly.

"Well, how about that," Frank began. He finally pulled out the pie, all smoky and flavorful, and set it on the dining table. "Emotional support. When person don't ridicule you or your hobbies. Praise, maybe even for the little things. Or when you come home all dirty and tired and they take you to the table and spoon-feed you," Frank glanced at the two chairs next to him, and for a moment, he saw two ghosts - his and his wife's. "A blanket to cover you, or give you the tastiest piece on your plate, and when you're sick you don't drag yourself feverishly to the drugstore to get medicine. In the little things, in general."

Gojo froze. All the clothes that had been washed and put on the shelves by you immediately flashed through his head, all the hot breakfasts, and your worried messages if he was even ten minutes late.. He remembered looking at you through the mirror while you dried his hair, and the discovery of the second blanket thrown on top of him in heavy frosts. He could still feel the warmth in his hands from the mug of tea you'd brewed. "I'll be right back!" 

"Where ya think ya goin'?" exclaimed Frank angrily, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "And the soup? What a bunch of kids," he muttered quietly to himself, and giving Gojo a ladle in his hand, ordered him to stir the broth.

***

Tris was sitting on your lap puffing and panting childishly, folding the corners of the paper repeatedly. Every time she failed or got it wrong, she would crumple it up nervously with her childish hands and toss it in the trash, and you would stare at the pile of scraps in the corner of the room.

It was getting dark outside the window, and Tris could barely see what exactly she was doing anymore, but her stubbornness kept her from saying a word. You turned on the nightlight.

"Better?" you asked her, and she only nodded angrily. "Don't be so nervous. It'll work out sooner or later. Ya want me to help ya?"

"No!" she squeaked angrily, clutching the paper into a shred again and tossing it aside.

You pressed your lips together understandingly, leaned back in your chair, and stroked her hair to make her feel better. She kept squirming in your lap, and you had to catch her from time to time, but she didn't even notice, too engrossed.

Her panting subsided a little when she finally successfully folded the first corners. "There, that's not bad," you said softly, resting your head on her shoulder and watching the result.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," you said not taking your eyes off Tris's labors.

"How is it going?" asked Frank softly, leaning over the table. You nodded slowly towards the table. "Tris, it's time to go to your room."

"I'll be going soon," she muttered without looking up.

"Watch it," he ordered you sternly, while kissing the tops of both of you. As Frank stepped back, Gojo appeared from behind his broad back.

Frank was already standing in the doorway. "Actually, I just came by to tell ya that we don't have any more extra rooms. So ya're gonna have to sleep together."

Before you could answer anything, Frank had already closed the door and the last thing you saw was his satisfied wide smile.

Gojo's sat down next to you. Tris only squirmed more at the attention being drawn to her and what she was doing.

"What is it you're doing?"

You sighed tiredly. "Trying to learn how to make a paper plane."

"What's that for?" he asked chuckling softly.

"When we were coming up, did you notice the high cliff in the distance?" you asked, and in response, you heard him purr something in agreement. "We launch paper planes from there every year for town day. With wishes. Although..." you stammered, remembering the words written out by your childish hand a long time ago. "It don't have to be wishes. You can write what you feel, or what you love. Anything that would make you happy. Something like that." 

"Can I do that too?" asked Gojo playfully.

"Well...," you stretched out, casting a glance in his direction. "Ya don't seem like a person who doesn't have anything."

He pressed together his glossy lips skeptically and pulled away from you. "That's how."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, shrugging your shoulders. "Apparently I was wrong," fearing where this dialog might lead, you decided to back off. "It's time for bed now. I'll lie down on the floor."

"What do you take me for?" snorted Gojo indignantly, getting up from his chair. He walked over to the closet and busied himself with finding an extra blanket and pillow while you and Tris watched him.

Looking him over from head to toe, Tris lifted her head and looked at you. "Was he born this way?"

Without taking your eyes off his already tall figure, which now stretched to the topmost drawers, you raised your eyebrows. "Yep. He's got the bamboo gene embedded in him."

"Really?" squeaked Tris excitedly.

"I bet."

"I can actually hear everything," mumbled Gojo. Finally pulling out a pillow and blanket, he pouted and began to make himself comfortable on the floor. 

You scooped Tris into your arms as you heard a faint sob. You turned her to face you in a panic, her tears welling up. "I want to sleep with you," she whimpered.

"Couldn't ya have asked without tears?"

You felt a poke at your ankle. "Don't talk like that to a child!" he hissed quietly at you.

You just stepped over him and got into bed with Tris. Climbing under the covers and snuggling in, she giggled happily and triumphantly.

You began to stroke her hair, as was your habit. Soon she stopped squirming and kicking at you, but she was still chattering quietly to herself. You tried not to make any sudden movements so as not to disturb the peace that was coming. Her arms around your waist went slack and she turned her back to you exhaling noisily.

In the room, besides Tris's sniffling, you could hear the ticking of the clock, the second hand seeming to beat against your temples each time. You covered your ear with the blanket, but quickly felt yourself getting hot, even though your feet felt icy cold. You buried your face into the pillow disappointedly.

"Hey," his quiet whisper called out to you. Pulling yourself off the pillow, you saw Gojo resting his chin on the bed looking at you. "Can I join you?" he asked and he was met by your quiet sigh. "I'm old now, my back hurts."

"Ya gave up too quickly," you whispered grinning. A chill ran down the back of his neck.

Gojo crawled slowly into the bed trying to get as comfortable as possible, and kept casting concerned glances at Tris. Finally resting his head on the pillow, he looked up at you. His fingers slowly, inch by inch, came up to your palm and touched it. He gently traced its contours and stroked your knuckles, occasionally giving the pads a gentle squeeze.

You couldn't see his cheeks reddening in the dark anyway - so he thought, not realizing that it wasn't just his cheeks that were reddening, but his ears, and his neck, and probably everything under his clothes. "Why you wearing a mask?" he asked quietly.

"No reason... I just had a theory that the judges don't perceive masked faces. And I... I don't know who judges will have or when. So I prefer to stay in everyone's memories like this."

"You brawling a lot?" whispered Gojo. 

"I don't know, it just makes me feel better," you mumbled averting your gaze.

Watching you, he decided not to push you. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. "Got it," he said, but there was a strange, unfamiliar sadness in his voice. "Listen," Gojo stammered hearing his own hoarse whisper, and coughed as quietly as he could. "You... Can you call me by my name, just once in a while?" 

"By name?" you asked confused.

"Hey!" he quickly faltered when his feigned indignant whisper came out too loud. "We've spent so many nights together and you don't even remember my name?"

"You mean Satoru?"

He couldn't find anything to say. Words became a lump in his throat when his name first came out of your mouth. He only nodded hoping you could see that desperate attempt at confirmation in the darkness.

"Okay," you said hiding a smile in your pillow, squeezing his hand "Good night then, Satoru."

"Uh-huh," he barely got it out of him and squeezed his eyes shut, extinguishing his hitched breath against the pillow. He squeezed your hand in return.

You checked on Tris again. She was breathing slowly and deeply - still asleep. You exhaled in relief, gently rubbed the tip of your nose against the top of her head, and waited for Gojo breathing to become the same - measured and deep, hoping you could do the same with him.

***

You gave up at 4:30 in the morning.

The room was hot and cold - you were terribly cold, though sweat ran down your back. Every time you closed your eyes, instead of seeing vivid and fake images, you were only protecting yourself from the intrusive thoughts. You couldn't even turn from side to side to soothe your soul, so as not to wake up two people who were sleeping peacefully.

You climbed over them as carefully as you could, and finally removed the sticking strands from your forehead.

They were sleeping so peacefully. You swallowed bitterly, adjusted the battered blanket and covered them, then moved quietly toward the door. At the door you turned around, opened your mouth as if you wanted to say something, but then stopped and slammed the door shut as you stepped out into the hallway. As you passed the mirror, you looked at yourself, and your reflection looked as if it had been hurt.

You walked down to the kitchen, and the first thing you encountered was Frank's back. "Hey," you quietly called out to him, but his back flinched anyway.

"Not sleeping again?" he mumbled his question stashing something in his pocket.

You approached him silently, and he immediately pushed back near chair inviting you to sit down. Glancing at his pocket, you walked up to him from behind and put your chin on the top of his head hugging him by the shoulders. "Ya miss her?"

"Every day," he whispered. He stroked your forearm, and after smacking the back of yours, he stood up. "Sit. Now that ya're awake, let's have breakfast."

You sat down obediently this time and watched as Frank worked in the kitchen. He took the meat out of the refrigerator, threw it in the oven to heat, while he boiled water, and chopped vegetables for the salad.

When he was done, you had a plate of meat, a bowl of salad, a mug of tea, and a loving father in front of you. "Thank ya," you thanked him picking at the meat with your fork, separating it into fibers.

"No appetite?" he asked popping a piece of tomato into his mouth. "Ya eat your vegetables. It has vitamins in it. Look at Rachel - she ate cabbage all her childhood and no problems. Not physical, not mental."

"Uh-huh," you stretched out, and sipped your tea from your mug. "Only alcoholism, but that's basic."

You received a soft slap. "Eat," he said, but nothing changed: you continued to mash your food with your fork. Frank dropped the cutlery into your plate with a clang. "I can't do this. What's wrong? What's bothering you?" he asked worriedly, lifting your chin with his finger and forcing you to look him in the eye.

You exhaled convulsively, and placed a clear bag of creamy beige dust on the table.

Seeing it, Frank was seized with panic. "How did ya...," he almost gasped. "Fuck, do ya have any idea what those fucking monopolists calling themselves higher-ups will do to ya if they find out about this?"

"Whatever," you waved it off indifferently. "Frank, I have no gardening skills. Especially since the black orchid is a very... um, demanding flower. Ya're the only one who can help me," you looked into his eyes hopefully.

Frank fidgeted tapping his fingers on the table, shifting his gaze from the bag to you, and back again. "What are you planning?"

"Not completely sure yet," you said rubbing your forehead, trying to hide from his eyes. He put his big hands around your face, once again wanting to see honesty.

As soon as he saw your eyes, his own anxiety swept over him. "Ya...," he stammered stroking your cheeks with his thumbs trying to reassure you. "It's okay, it's okay. I'll do everything," he assured you, and with what was the strength of a father's love - cradled you against him as you tried to quiet your ragged breathing. "Come on, let's go to the well," he stroked your back, his fingers feeling every scar whose origin you never told him. "We'll get some fresh air; get some water at the same time. Then ya'll take a bath," you nodded weakly at his suggestion, and rose from your chair as quickly as you could and rushed forward, tugging your blackened hair into a messy ponytail.

***

A rustling sound beneath the window and a soft poke on his cheek finally made him raise his eyes. Not realizing where he was, Gojo sat up jerkily pulling the blanket with him causing Tris, who had been sitting on it, to fall back onto the pillows. 

Panting and squirming, Tris rose again and sat down next to him. "Where's Y/N?" she asked menacingly.

"Where...," Gojo mumbled sleepily, rubbing his face with his hands. "Mom abandoned us," he summed up disappointedly, looking at empty side of the bed. "Are you hungry?"

Tris nodded.

Gojo picked her up in his arms. "Come on then, let's go brush our teeth and I'll make you something," he was prevented from turning around by another crackling sound outside the window. Seeing the familiar flow of cursed energy, still holding Tris in his arms, he walked over to the window, but there was nothing to see because of the patterns; turning the knob, Gojo opened it. 

Down below, in several sweaters and an oversized jacket, hat pulled to the side, Megumi was chopping wood. His cheeks were redder than usual, and he was out of breath; after a moment to catch his breath, Megumi brought the axe over his head once more.

Barely containing his laughter, Gojo reached for his phone. "Smile for the camera!" he shouted, and Megumi darted a glance upward and was greeted by a large number of flashes. Gojo only stopped when the axe flew into the wall with a crack, an inch from the window. "Rude!" he shouted indignantly, and with a jerk he closed the window.

***

Gojo hummed long and thoughtfully as he assessed the contents of the refrigerator. The fridge was full of food - a lot of it, and it was all different. The problem was he had no idea what to do with it. "Do you like scrambled eggs?" he asked glancing at Tris over his shoulder.

"Yeah," she muttered. She was trying to fold the poor paper plane again, and Gojo was already getting a smack on the hand when he tried to help.

Turning on the electric stove, he washed the eggs and beat them straight into the skillet. 'Maybe I should put some milk in it?' he thought to himself rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'But that would be an omelet, and we agreed on scrambled eggs. Though... Whatever,' and with these thoughts he poured milk into the pan and stirred the resulting mixture with a spatula. "And if I put some cheese in it..." he mumbled aloud.

Ten minutes later, he placed a plate of cheese omelet, neatly sliced tomato and cucumber in front of Tris, and slid her a glass of water and a cup of hot chocolate.

Tris froze. Gojo had managed to distract her from the paper planes after all, and she shyly pushed the plate closer to her. As she tasted what he had prepared for her, she smiled at him for the first time with all her teeth. "Thank ya," she babbled softly.

Gojo chuckled softly. She was too much like you for a foster child.

The front door opened and Frank, paired with the snow falling off him, stepped into the house. "Good morning," he greeted them in a brisk bass and set the huge buckets of water on the floor. "Awake? That's a good thing. Everyone else is already decorating the town, so join."

As soon as she heard the word 'decorate', Tris swept everything off her plate and drained her mug of hot chocolate ignoring the glass of water completely and ran to get dressed.

Looking at her unsuccessful attempts to pull on her boots due to the rush, Gojo reached out to help. "I'll do it myself!" she squirmed. A carbon copy.

After waiting patiently for Tris to get dressed, Gojo took her in his arms and left the house. He didn't even have to ask which way to go; the music was playing in the right place.

Gojo had no sooner come down the hill than he became more and more surprised as people kept coming towards and away from him, and they looked too happy. He didn't know or recognize any of them and probably they didn't know him either, but every person he passed congratulated him with a friendly smile, and he only looked back at them in bewilderment.

All the houses already had garlands that flashed and shimmered, and on every porch hung a wooden 'paper plane' that swayed from side to side. Closer to the center of town, the houses were painted with chaotic lines of color, and the lines shone as brightly as the sun at its zenith. Out of the corner of his eye, Gojo caught a glimpse of Ryan running along one of the houses and running his hand along it leaving a bright red glowing streak on the house.

There was laughter and loud conversations everywhere, he could even hear the cork popping from a bottle of wine. The air was filled with the smells of fresh baked goods, cotton candy and raspberry lemonade.

Some people were standing on stepladders right in front of the house - hanging colorful paper lanterns. A woman shouted at a man to redo everything, because the lanterns looked out of place.

All the roads had been cleared of snow, and it made the town seem bigger than it had the first time. The whole town seemed different from the day before.

Familiar silhouettes appeared on the horizon.

"Y/N!" exclaimed Axel joyfully. "Look what I can do!" he clapped his hands together loudly, and glowing golden sparks sprinkled from them - so tiny they were a hundred times smaller than a firefly. He swung his hands upward in a sudden motion, and the sparks obediently soared into the air flying over the town. "Kyle taught me," he added defiantly.

"Not bad," you said grinning. "It'll be especially nice when it gets dark," you said, and you were about to go back to painting Mike's face, but from over Axel's shoulder came two figures - one so wrapped in winter clothes that it looked like a balloon, and the other with windswept hair that was whiter than snow.

"Finally!" you exclaimed. "I thought ya were gonna oversleep," you gently put your arm around Mike's face and leaned his cheek against yours. "Say, do we look like a tiger?"

"Definitely," laughed Gojo sitting down next to you in the chair. "Now, growl," he turned to Mike. There was a fierce childish growl. Holding back a laugh, you turned Mike around to face you again. As you drew out the black and orange stripes, a bunch of people swept past you, humming and dancing. "So there are a lot of hunters after all," Gojo remarked.

"A couple or three houses would be enough for the hunters, not a whole town," you said concentrating on drawing Mike's stripes. "There's mostly people from the void here."

"You're not bringing them home?" he asked frowning his eyebrows.

"We bring some of them back, of course. We do some memory work, and then we let them go. But the rest... Uh, I don't know. Imagine ya're a coachman from the 18th century, ya've done your day's work and ya're rushing home to your wife and kids. And on the way home, some boogieman drags ya into a completely empty and cold place. And if ya didn't die of cold or disease, ya just wait, and it's unclear what you're waiting for. Death, I guess. Until ya come across a person who carries time with them and can get ya out of there. Only... it isn't your time anymore," you fell silent examining the result on the boy's face. "So ya come out and everywhere instead of horses there are incomprehensible rolling boxes, people talking on some rectangles, and in place of your house and your neighbors' houses now stands a huge shopping mall. And ya are standing there, and ya have no more people you knew, no more profession, no more wife, no more children. Ya'll never come back home again because you don't have it anymore. So that's how Hopetown came to be," and when you were done, you kissed Mike on the top of his head, and he squealed so you wouldn't ruin the coloring and ran off to the other kids to show off.

While you stared at the boy, Gojo looked at you and didn't know whether he wanted to hold you or shake you by the shoulders so you'd come to your senses. Shoko's words about you having no regrets came to mind. 

You could have been anything to him - private, insensitive, hysterical, kind, angry - and he would have understood every feature, but he still couldn't grasp it: how much do you have to love life to have the courage and strength to give another chance to live it to others? You've paid too unfair a price for that.

The only thing he wanted was for you to stop hiding.

When Gojo mustered up the courage to say something to you, you were distracted by a phone notification. 

[11:54am] Frank: Incident. We're short on torches. Go to the storage and see if there are materials

[11:54am] You: Ok

"Can you draw?" you turned to Gojo getting up from your chair

"I can do anything," he said smiling smugly.

You didn't get a chance to say anything before there was a rumble and a clink of broken glass behind you. When you turned around, you saw Danielle slumped on the terrace of the bar and a box lying next to her. Pieces of broken glass were scattered across the terrace, floating in the spilled wine. "Dany," you mumbled worriedly, running up to her. There was a crunching sound of glass beneath your feet. "What's wrong with ya lately?" you asked wrapping your arms around her waist and lifting her to her feet. Her pale face looked up at you, not even pink from the freezing cold.

"Nothing," she muttered smiling weakly. "Not feeling well lately, a little sickening."

You rounded your eyes. "Dany," you whispered, and leaned closer to her ear. "Did ya take pregnancy test?"

"What?" she resented weakly. "No, I haven't, we haven't yet... We... Well, uh, ya know," she burrowed into the collar of her jacket in shame.

"Okay," you nodded. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

A concerned Megumi ran up to you. "Is everything okay?" he asked excitedly, and you stepped aside giving him access. "I'll walk her over," picking her up by the waist, he told you. 

As you watched them follow, Gojo came up behind you from behind and put his hands on your shoulders. "What happened?"

"I don't know," you shook your head chewing on the pad of your thumb without realizing it. "What ya doing here?" you asked turning back to him. "The kids are waiting for ya, go on."

"I can actually help out in the storage too," Gojo muttered pouting his lips.

"You've already got an assignment and I'll manage on my own somehow," he snorted something grudgingly in protest, but went back to the kids nonetheless. 

You slipped your jacket over your shoulders and tied your scarf around your neck, and headed for the storage. You were about to round the corner of the house when Itadori called out to you. "Wait, I'm coming with you! We're out of paper lanterns!"

"Where ya going without a jacket, ya dumbass!" shouted Axel after him. "It's half an hour to the storage, put it on!"

***

You wandered between the racks, Itadori searching the shelves for boxes of decoration, and you looked around every corner of the room for a barrel of resin. Finally, seeing a yellow cross-painted in paint on one of the barrels, you approached it. "Itadori, give me a hand," the kid immediately jumped down from the rack and was beside you.

The two of you dragged the barrel to a table that stood against the wall, on which empty crates of wooden sticks and old rags already stood. "Do you need help?" asked Itadori sincerely.

"Nope," you patted him on the top of his head, and took a stick from the drawer. "Grab your decoration and run to the others, I'll be right back."

"Got it," Itadori said, and in two jumps, he was already at the rack where he'd left his box. You were already holding the end of the stick in the resin, slowly cranking it, and behind you came Yuji's confused voice that mumbled 'Hello', but no one answered him. You rolled your eyes, and taking the tip of the stick out of the barrel, tapped it against the edge to get rid of the excess tar. 

A glimmer of golden hair and the outline of a sharp chin showed from the side. "Good afternoon," Nathaniel greeted you taking one of the sticks and dipping it in the tar. Meanwhile, you were winding the rag around yours trying to get the fabric as tight as possible. "How's the work coming along?"

"Not bad," you said sniffing your nose. "Although there are getting to be too many loners in the void. Ya know anything about that?"

"That's not our area of responsibility," Nathaniel noted phlegmatically. "How's Frank doing?"

"He's fine."

"How's everyone else doing?" he kept trying to keep the idle conversation going by handing you a stick and picking up the next one.

"Same."

"You haven't found a settlement yet?"

There was the sound of tearing fabric. You wrapped the torch tightly around it, and folded it neatly into the empty box. "That's not your area of responsibility. The small talk has gone on long enough."

"Tell me, since when do you stick to the tactic of keeping your enemies close?"

"What are ya talking about?" you ask without taking your eyes off the case.

Nathaniel exhaled irritably, the overly forceful impact of the stick hitting the metal barrel echoed throughout the large storage. "You're aware the kid stayed near you, only to finish you off?"

"Well...," you stretched out chuckling. "I suspected something was amiss. I couldn't have such a miracle fall on my head for free."

"Is this a joke to you?" hissed Nathaniel, oblivious to the torches. You were calmly wrapping the cloth around another stick. "He's been walking all over you for a year now, how do you live with it?"

"A year, ya say," you thought for a moment. "You mean he made a deal with ya a year ago?

"With Christian," Nathaniel pointed out, and noticing your indifferent state, began to calm down himself. "Yes, almost a year ago."

"Well, why did you mess with my head?" you asked, and tossed the finished torch into the empty box not so neatly anymore. "What was it you said back then? 'They are planning something'? Couldn't you have said it sooner?"

"You mean why didn't I give details near our headquarters? You could have thanked me for warning you at all."

"Well, thank you."

"Get rid of him," Nathaniel hissed sternly as if commanding.

"Uh?" you went into a momentary stupor. "I won't do that. He's had a year to kill me and he hasn't even tried."

"Because he knows that- Ahem, that you can't be killed in this state," Nathaniel paused hoping nothing would happen. "He's been notified that your emotions make you weaker-"

"My emotions make me stronger," you interrupted him in a stubborn tone, but further on your voice grew weaker with each word. "But nothing good about that," you added in a near whisper.

"If you don't want to kill him yourself, then order me to."

The skin on your wrist hissed. "Ouch!" you exclaimed quietly rubbing a tiny glowing crosshair on the sore spot. "It hurts," you blurted out glaring at him. "Look, I know going around in debt is a nasty business, but I'm gonna to order ya to do it."

"Then why did you even make me promise to you if you don't use it?" he asked irritably.

"Uh... for fun?" you replied shrugging your shoulders in doubt. "I did you a favor, and you had nothing to charge at the time. Well I just wanted to test how the promise system works. Actually, I don't give a damn what you're saying. He's not that kind of person. Don't mess with my head."

"I shouldn't have approached you in the first place. You're just...," he sighed contritely, resting his hands on the table, not looking up at you. "You're the most immature and irresponsible person I've ever met," he shook his head dejectedly. "Even when I communicate the threat directly to you, you can't get rid of it," he met only your silence, your blank stare, and the mechanical movements of the hands that tied the cloth on the torch. "God," he said in a hoarse voice. "Don't tell me you're in love with the kid."

***

Itadori had stuffed too much into his box - he had to keep peering out from behind the mountain of paper lanterns stopping every now and then to avoid slipping.

Once again, Yuji looked out and spotted the familiar figures, and took in more air. "Hey! Need help!" he shouted. Axel immediately ran over to him, and promptly dumped half of the contents of the box into his own. "Thanks," Itadori said smiling.

Gojo watched all this perplexedly, completely forgetting that he was drawing a frog on Tris's face. "Itadori!" he called out to Yuji, and the boy setting the box down, ran up to his teacher. "Where's Y/N?"

"She stayed in the storage," murmured Itadori tiredly but cheerfully. "Some other man came to see her and..."

What?

"...he didn't even say hello back. He's kinda old, I didn't know that elderly could be so rude. But he has cool hair color, golden, I think..."

What?

"...he seemed to stay there with her."

If Yuji had said another word, a painful whimper would have come out of Gojo. His eyes blurred and he could barely squeeze out words while maintaining his usual attitude. "Itadori, where's the storage?"

"Over there," Itadori said pointing to the bridge. "Over the bridge and immediately to the right, that big hangar with the red doors. Sensei?" asked Itadori dumbly when he saw Gojo immediately dash toward the storage.

***

Gojo leaned his forehead against the cold metal door and frantically tried to catch his breath. His side stung, and his heart was beating so furiously that he didn't know whether it was the sound of snow crunching under his feet or his ribs breaking. He could hear your voices, but mostly Nathaniel's - you were either silent or humming. Gojo squeezed his eyes shut with force trying to listen.

"...for what it's worth. I'm not thrilled with our current politics myself, but I guess I'll agree with them on this one. You don't belong in this world."

Gojo's chest ached when he heard your voice. You sounded confused. "I don’t belong in their world either. Where should I go, then?"

"You have the answer to that question. Only you don't have the guts or the courage to do it," Gojo felt like tearing Nathaniel's vocal cords out. He didn't dare speak to you in such a condescending tone. No one did.

"Hey!" Gojo's shout was more like a growl, but turning toward him, you saw nothing but a casual, serene smile. "Frank said you need help here," he said in a soft voice. Gojo came over to you and put his arm around your shoulder, furtively throwing a warning glance at Nathaniel.

"Deal with it yourself," Nathaniel tossed over his shoulder waving his hand carelessly in farewell.

Gojo gave him a look, and after making sure that this dirt was no longer here, cupped your cheeks. "Everything okay?" he tried his best to hide the worry in his voice.

"Yeah...," you stretched out. "Yeah, everything's okay," you added in a more confident voice. "I just got another round of bad for doing things the wrong way."

His hands slid down your back, and he pulled you against him. "You know," Gojo mumbled into the top of your head. "I've cut out my higher-ups. I can do the same with yours, if you want." 

You chuckled weakly. "I see ya're bloodthirsty."

"You bet," Gojo confirmed nose burrowing into your hair.

You didn't put your hand on his waist, didn't ruffle his hair, didn't nuzzle your nose into his neck, and it was the first time you hadn't responded to his touch. A chill ran down his back, and he gripped the fabric of your jacket tighter with sweaty palms. He was willing to do anything stupid or say anything nonsensical to get you to do something.

"I wouldn't mind it myself, but the hunters would revolt. I'm not sure I have the strength to fight on two fronts," you said. You don't have the strength? That sounded like utter nonsense. Or are there some other forces he's not aware of? "Ya're kinda here to help," you remarked poking him in the side. He exhaled in relief.

"So what you're saying," he began gently nibbling your sides, which made you laugh softly and squirm. "That hugs are useless?"

Sure, hugs were helpful - they produce oxytocin in the brain. Nevertheless, right now you felt like you'd first fallen into a trap from which there was no escape.

next ⊳

[rainbow-nerdss]

Fic Writing review 2023!

I was tagged by: @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @aidaronan @exhuastedpigeon @jamespearce9-1-1 @theotherbuckley @aspecbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 (And possibly others, i may have missed one or two, sorry if i did!)

I can't believe 2023 is over, honestly. This year has had some ups and downs for sure but overall I'm so proud of what I've achieved. I started the year mainly writing Stranger Things fics, and while I still love that fandom and all of the wonderful people I met there, my inspiration for writing it was beginning to fade.

And along came 9-1-1. I am so happy with where I've ended up, and for all the new friends I've made since I found this show back in April!

Here's an overview of my year in fic:

Words posted to ao3: 235,060

Words written: 250,465

Works posted: 38

Fandoms posted for: 3 (Stranger Things, 9-1-1, MCU/Captain America)

Specifics and tags are under the cut!

Longest fic:

Crawling on Back to You 109k words, 30 chapters Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Rated E

Shortest fic:

Keep on Walkin' and don't look back 521 words Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Rated T

Top 5 by kudos:

1. Right in front of your eyes

9-1-1, Buddie, 15k

He and Chris, and Buck. They work, they’re a unit. Why should it matter that he’s single? Buck is watching him, like he’s reading every thought on his face. “You’re already planning to lie about the date. Why don’t you just tell her you met someone yourself?” Eddie shrugs and tilts his head to the side, squinting in thought. “She won’t set me up on dates if she thinks I’ve got someone,” he muses. “But she’ll want to meet whoever it is.” “So... Introduce them?” Or: Buck offers to fake-date Eddie so Pepa will stop setting him up on dates.

2. Pinky Promise

9-1-1, Buddie, 1k

Christopher Diaz doesn't mind that his dad's dating someone new. He's not dumb, he knows there's someone. The way his dad has been smiling lately, the way Chris catches him staring at his coffee, daydreaming like he isn't a grown man. The sleepovers Chris is suddenly allowed to go to on almost a weekly basis. Chris is happy for him, really he is. He’s just not planning to let himself get attached to whoever it turns out to be, just in case. He doesn't need a step-parent, because he has Dad, and he has Buck, and that’s enough. Whoever his dad dates, well. They'll probably leave, eventually. Chris doesn’t need to worry about them. Or: Eddie and Buck come to Chris with some news, and he doesn't take it very well at all.

3. Peek-A-Boo

Stranger Things, Steddie, 1k

Eddie tried not to stare. He really tried. He didn't notice at first, too preoccupied with the tub of pringles he'd been making his way through while talking about Corroded Coffin's last gig. Sure, he'd noticed the shorts. The ridiculous amount of leg Steve was showing, the way they hugged his ass, but it wasn't until Steve moved, lifted one foot to rest on the cushion, knees spread, that Eddie noticed another feature of the shorts. Or: Steve puts on a bit of an accidental show.

4. Definition

9-1-1, Buddie, 2k

It keeps happening, time and time again. People get it wrong. Whatever people say, it feels wrong and they don't know how to set the record straight, until Chris takes it into his own hands. or: 5 times people get Buck's role in Chris's life wrong, and 1 time they set the record straight

5. take my hand (knot your fingers through mine)

9-1-1, Buddie, 4k, written with @pock-o-pea

At least Buck’s okay. He’s outside, safe, doing his job. Buck’s okay, which means no matter what happens inside this van, If the crushing weight of the fridge takes him before Buck can get to him, if the van pancakes or flips or any number of likely disasters occur, if Eddie dies in here, alone, and in pain, then… He thinks of Mallory, of Jo. How they’d called out for each other. His eyes shut briefly as Mallory’s words echo in his head. “She’s not my daughter. Jo’s mother was my best friend… she saved me so many times.” Or: what 6x18 could've been

2023 Events I've participated in: AUgust, Fandom Trumps Hate

Current works in progress:

The bodyguard fic (somebody to someone) -One chapter posted, 3 more written and (almost) ready to post!

Steve time travelling in the upside down (of moments and unmoments (of time lost)) -One posted, two more in the drafts 😁

The break-up fic (you were my town) - Two posted, the third almost ready to post

Season 7 fic: 10 chapters, currently being edited to post

and then a bunch of isolated oneshots I've yet to figure out an ending for: 5+1 times Eddie sees buck with kids that aren't his, friends with benefits, secret relationship, Teacher!Buck, Buckley siblings kiss of death, Buck in the stairs (just started this one last night!)

Goals for 2024:

I want to finish posting all of the WIPs which are already on ao3, post my s7 fic before March 14, keep working on all the WIPs I have in my docs and of course write more and keep sharing!

Most of all I want to keep participating in this wonderful fandom I've found on here, I have had *such* a good time over the past year in fandom 🥰🥰

No pressure tags (sorry if you've already done this and I missed it!)

@hellwrites @the-emdash @wildlife4life @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @911-on-abc @bittersweet-in-boston @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @spotsandsocks @devirnis @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @mojowitchcraft @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @sunflowerdiaiz @cardamomsage @velvetjinx

Also tagging anyone else who might want to look back at the year and I've accidentally missed!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

[bettsfic]

Hi betts, I would love any advice please 💜 I've been writing original fic for myself for many years and it's been fun. But I want to publish my writing, and now I've got 2 issues: 1 - I have never stuck to an idea once I decide to write something that others will see. It's like stage fright and I'm throwing away idea after idea. And 2 - I'm literally not used to "trying" to write well anymore. There are moments in my writing that are much better than others, just a flow or getting into the zone, whatever, but I don't have to try. It's easy to write 10-15k words a day without the pressure to do it well, but now it's grinding and fussing over every sentence and paragraph, the pressure chokes it and my writing reads strangely no matter what I do or tell myself. I studied writing at university and always seriously choked when showing people my work then, too.

Would drafting/editing practice help this at all? Publishing fragments to loosen up and "test the water" before attempting a finished story? I'm a perfectionist and am rarely if ever vulnerable with others, which has me questioning why I even put myself in this position!! I'm so demotivated and wondering whether I'm a writer who really wants to do this, or just an escapist. Thank you for reading 💜

hmm, perhaps i'm missing something. if you've been writing original fiction for yourself for years, at 10-15k a day, that means you have a portfolio of work. a large portfolio. you don't have to make anything new. i would just go through what you've already written through the lens of an audience seeing it--which will suck and feel awful--and pick out the stuff that has merit. somewhere in there has to be something you can punch up. find the piece or excerpt or chapter that you feel is the least terrifying for someone else to see, then go through the revision process with it. identify the weakest sentences and play around with them. do some major developmental revision and rewriting. i don't think you have to start from scratch.

churning out 10-15k a day is an insane feat. even if you think the writing isn't any good, it is an exceptional skill to even be able to generate that many words. my 10-15k days are pretty rare and i usually have to sleep 9 hours to get my brain back. the thing is, the process from down draft to up draft is a slow one. you might be able to *revise* 10k in a day, and that might look like one good paragraph, and that's just the way of things. if you have a 100k project you wrote for funsies, it's possible that maybe 5k of a subplot may end up developing the premise of a different story that you end up fully rewriting anyway. but it's a lot easier to give yourself the task of revising an existing idea for an audience to read, even if you're embarrassed by it, than it is to generate a completely new one.

[manonamora-if]

April Check-In

HI! I AM NOT DEAD I PROMISE, ANON!

Just... Ugh... It's been a stressful end of the month. I have not kept up with the weekly devlogs at all, partly because I had little to share each week, but also IRL was just too much. Head seems out of the water for now. Though I will be MIA for the rest of the week.

Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

IF Events in the Next Month

Plan for the next month

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head on over to itch.io as usual!

March Progress

From last month, what did we do:

Complete my French Comp entry. ✅ Not only did I write it all in less than two weeks (and it was full of typo that was so embarrassing), I also managed to...

Complete my SpringThing entry. ✅ Because that's the same game but in English.

Play more games! ✅Obviously having finished playing the Smoochie Jam AND all the French Comp game (quite a few good ones, voting was so hard), but also the SeedComp! and the Revival Jam (maybe?). The harvest of games for this month was bountiful!

Finish the Code Ch5 ❌ of Harcourt and edit Ch6 ✅

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. ❌

Things, it turns out... No, really...

Yay! Still managed to make a decent chunk of stuff.

Let's start with the bummer: still haven't fixed the borked games. Yeah... I really should sit down at some point and get down to it. BUT I did get some feedback for the Egg-game, and got extra code to fix the container issue. So... I just need to get to it.

Still haven't worked on coding on Harcourt, though I finished my part of the edits of Chapter 6. The file, full of comments, is back on his desk which... Well. Herm. MelS's computer just 💥(not like fire everywhere, but sudden forever black screen), corrupting about half of his data... which included his progress on that chapter and the endings. We've been working on getting his data back (tbh this project is the least of his worries, more important stuff is still gone), so hopefully we can get him back to editing and writing by next month (best case scenario). YEAH...

But before that happened, I managed to finish Les lettres du Docteur Jeangille for the French Comp, at the last possible minute yet again. I had the idea for month, but didn't start working on it until I was truly done with Teatime with a Vampire. It still managed to write over 15k words in 18-19th century French style (and full of typo because, only two weeks...) in essentially 1 and 1/2 week. EPISTOLARY STYLE game :D

After that was done, I got to play the Smoochie Jam and the French Comp games (it's on the IFDB), and started with the SeedComp entries (it's hidden because I'm the organiser). Lots of fun little game, some very sweet and humorous, some VERY DARK, some suuuper hot, and some that required a bit of noggins.

And halfway through the month, I sneaked a mini-parser game for the Revival Jam. I wanted to try my hand out with the old-style Speed-IF jams, that ran all the way back at the start of the century, which were just 2h long. TWO HOURS! No preparation, just you starting to code and stopping after 2hs. I tried my hand at Inform but... didn't have time to learn a whole new program and make my mini puzzle work in time. So I switched back to Adventuron, and managed to make something... in just over 2hs... I ended up Reviving old versions of the EctoComp instead (3h limit). Still it was fun to try to make a parser game in such short amount of time. It's called FIA: The Vacuum Cleaner, it will take you maybe 5min to play. And... it was so fun I kind of want to make basic micro-parser in that little universe. Some sort of multi-episode series where you have a small puzzle in front of you to solve. Like an intro to parser type of thing. Maybe in different parser programs? We will see. I might end up popping up here and there as tiny little games.

When THAT was done, I went back to work on the English translation of Jeangille, cutting it so close for the SpringThing deadline I thought I would not make it (for real, my files were sent at 23:58! I honestly don't think this was my bestest translation. It probably would have needed a few more rounds of polish and maybe some beta-readers but... :/ the computer explosion happened in the middle of all this so. I guess it was enough... I hope it was enough... But yay! I made it! No bug! Probably just typos! I didn't manage to make the cool animation tho...

AND I updated my website to add all of these juicy thingies!

AND AND! I was interviewed by the Rosebush Magazine last week!

So that was my month. We did good, we did bad, we are exhausted.

What’s happening in April?

Oh wow, already April. WHAT DO WE HAVE HAPPENING? So much, we have so much happening.

First off, we have competitions looking for voters:

Vous pouvez lire le français ? Venez jouer et voter pour les entrées du Concours de FI Francophone ! La date limite est le 4 avril.

Also on the 4th of April, is the deadline to vote for the SeedComp! (@seedcomp-if) games! You can find the forms here. We really really need voters!

The Spring Thing just released a new harvest of games (including meee :P ), and will open voting in a bit less than 2 weeks. Come play!

Looking to create some games instead?

The next @neointeractives jam just opened for submission! Come participate in the Dialogue Jam!

Looking to attempt creating a parser that is easy enough for beginners? Come check the Text Adventure Literacy Jam! You need a tutorial and 5 puzzles to solve!

If you want a deadline to finish your project, maybe check out : Finish Your Project Jam 2024

And for lovers: Amare Games Festival 2024

On the shorter side, and in May: Narrative Design Awards 2024 (ranked), 🔥 Fuck Capitalism Jam 2024 🔥 (unranked)

Interested in other IF events?

April 1st is Source Code Amnesty. Come share the code of your creations! (I've added a bunch of mine on Github today)

You can now register to attend the 2024 Edition of the Narrascope! IRL or Virtual, there are a lot of great talks this year!

We had so far 10 actual entries for the Interactive Fiction Showcase 2024 ! If you made something in 2024, consider showcasing it there too!

Note: @neointeractives will have jams all year long. One a month/or so. And the next Planting Round of @seedcomp-if will start as soon as the results are dropped.

The PLANtm for April

I, erm... should take it easy this month. But also, actually finish stuff, because the more I start, the more I have to fix/finish and it's becoming A LOT...

Play more games: I haven't covered the Revival Jam yet (I'm getting on it!) and the SpringThing has just started. So I have a lot of new treaties just for me! (And also that 2nd Rank is so close I can taste it!).

Finish the Code of Ch5 of Harcourt and edit the Ending Chapter: the latter should be easy since it is pretty short. The former... I just need to bite my tong and get to it! It should probably take me a day to code those last passages...

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. Or An Eggcellent Preparation. Maybe the other parser too (it just needs a smidge of polish).

Complete the TALJ entry. The deadline is at the end of the month. I already have the basic structure. I need: a tutorial, commands to actually make the game work. And words. So many words. (Did I mention here I'm making a maze?)

I think that's good. I'm trying REALLY HARD not to tack on another Neo-Interactives entry (we're doing dialogues and I LOVE THOSE). But I WILL TRY MY BEST TO KEEP IT FOCUSED ON THE CURRENT PROJECTS!

~

The 2024 To-Do List:

LOL, I've only done the website! :D

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC + overall the French version to match (waiting for Adventuron to get the French language)

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces (giving up on the translation)

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent - this year should be it - for real)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm getting ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (2025? Might end up being a ST?)

[novaviis]

All The King’s Men.

Chapter Two. Fight or Flight.

Watercolour Series.

Words: 15k Status: In Progress Rating: Explicit Relationship: Dick Grayson/Wally West, BatFamily

Summary:

A threat against the Wayne Family arises, one that forces them into hiding. Stuck out in a cabin hidden in the mountains of Montana, Dick has to juggle keeping his family from tearing itself apart, missing his fiance like crazy, and a mystery that has plagued him all his life.

Chapter Two Excerpt:

“So, it’s a passive threat,” Damian said. “Something to let you know that someone is watching. How do we know this isn’t a juvenile prank?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “For over ten years?”

“It could be a copy cat,” Jason suggested. “Someone trying to get Bruce Wayne’s attention.”

Bruce shook his head. “The incident was never publicized. No one else could have known.”

Tim’s brows furrowed. “When did the first one appear?” he asked.

Bruce hesitated. It was only for a second, but Dick saw it. That vein practically jumped out from under his skin. “The first bird was left at the door exactly two weeks after the night I-”

“The night he found me at the docks,” Dick cut in without looking at him. Even still, he could feel Bruce’s eyes on him. His brothers and sister, even Selina, all turned to him. It was a small mercy, saving Bruce from having to admit that it was him, but it was one he was more than ready to offer. That night was still an open sore than had never quite closed. “We were on patrol, I went after a perp on my own and got shot at close range,” Dick said. They’d all heard the story before, the version that Dick told when their curious eyes first found that particular starburst scar on his abdomen. “And it wasn’t just a bird,” he continued. “It was a Robin.”

That certainly changed the air in the room. Until then, the incidents may still have been played off as a singular threat against the Waynes. Nothing terribly new. Now, the connection to their alternate identities was too close to dismiss. Someone out there knew who they were, and while they weren’t going to the trouble of exposing them.

“There is only one thing I know for certain,” Bruce’s voice broke the silence like a battering ram. “This is a long game. And they’ve just made their move.”

Good old fashioned family fun time begins.

[Read on AO3]

[boleynns]

Do u have fic recommendations?

I'm gonna assume this is for Daemon/Rhaenyra since that has been all I've talked about for months haha. And definitely have plenty of recs! In general I love reading really long fic (like, in really popular pairings I will set my parameters to see 50k+ or 100k+ fics only...), so due to the relative newness of this ship's popularity, most of my recs are incomplete. I also have way more that I am subscribed to that absolutely could be faves eventually, but that are just a little too early in the story to guarantee.

Canon/Canon!AU

To Ashes (Series) by Emerald_Aphelion (~30k, series incomplete but has 3 complete works so far) -- AU from Daemon's return from the Stepstones, basically where Daemon and Rhaenyra are just a little more thoughtful and forward-thinking within their relationship and with the political situation they're in. Established Relationship Vibes but also slow burn romance at the same time, they make each other smarter and better by working together, Rhaenyra bonds with baby!Aegon AND Rhea, Daemon picks Rhaenyra up and puts her on a table and calls her his queen at one point (hot), and this is the ideal Dance fix-it.

my eyes are aching to see you--126AC by SeveDeChampagne (~2.5k, complete) -- set between Episode 7 and 8, a very spicy First Time Post-Birth one-shot that contains multiple sentences that are some of the most intensely romantic things I've ever read. Considering my love of long fics, it takes a special kind of short fic for me to be so moved and attached.

How to Win Thrones and Ensnare Dragons by Writer_in_the__Dark (~15k, incomplete) -- Time Travel AU (my kink) where Rhaenyra is reborn into her baby-self. Only a few chapters in but I am HOOKED by the writing style and characterization of The Early Years dynamic, and am so looking forward to seeing how this evolves as time moves forward -- but based on the writing so far, I know it will be wonderful.

put down that gravestone by darkgods (~35k, incomplete) -- Post-Episode 4 AU, where Daemon went back to the Vale and Rhea didn't die, and then Rhaenyra gave birth to very Daemon-looking twins (wonder how that happened!), and then 10 years later Rhea has dead and Viserys invites Daemon back to be Hand. This story is so well-written and rich with character detail, I honestly just want to re-read it over and over! It has so beautifully dove into Rhaenyra's psyche, Daemon's personality (from his own perspective and from others), built a very sad and realistic portrait of Jace and Luke's lives as outcasts in court, set up some deliciously hurtful and complicated strings to unravel between Daemon and Rhaenyra due to this inciting situation, and has already indulged my pathological need for some Outside POV content by adding in Luke's (very well-written) perspective on a dinner scene. The fact that the chapter count is currently at 4/36 and we already have 35k words has me so hyped, you guys don't understand how badly I need piles and piles of giant fics.

Significance by AmazingAngie (~21k, incomplete) -- AmazingAngie is amazing because of how quickly she writes such amazing material! This is a Soulmate!AU, and this one in particular is just so insanely lovely so far! I'm a sucker for a "meant to be" setup so I will always love those from the get go, but I especially love the nuance in this story, and the ways that knowing that they are the endgame changes the trajectory of all of these characters lives.

you came/you called by scarlettscribbles (~10k, incomplete) -- basically an Episode 10 AU, kind of, but beyond that I just suggest reading it and going with the flow, because once I was like 80% into this first chapter I finally realized what was happening and it was so exciting. Needless to say I am pumped for the rest of the story.

Modern!AU

No joke I have literally NEVER liked Modern!AU's before, except for with 'Merlin' (because even if it wasn't explicitly stated, I could pretend that it was Reincarnation). It has just never appealed to me, until now with Daemon and Rhaenyra -- because they are just that powerful. Also none of my Modern!AU faves are any of that "Oh, actually, Daemon is adopted, or they're third cousins twice removed, or Daemon is only a ~symbolic uncle", like, we all know what we're doing here 😂

Lets Ignite Under the Ember Skies by grandlovescheme (26k, complete) -- So freaking good! The uncertainty, the jealousy, the tension, the ~vibes, the ~sexy ~vibes, it is a tightly-written and very well-characterized modern version of these characters and I love it.

Petrichor by sweetestsorrows (katschako) (~23k, incomplete) -- one of the chapters made me cry for real. Very intense "we are way too close to be appropriate, and it is causing angst, but i wanna be closer..." vibes, and I am so here for it. It really is wonderfully translating their bond to a modern lens, and all the problems and tensions that would come along with that dynamic. It made me go "omg that is so intensely romantic", it made me literally cry, it made me go "ooh ~spicy", its got it all.

the beauty queen in tears by writingwhatidream (~30k, incomplete) -- AHHH I am obsessed with this story (almost as obsessed as Crispin is with Rhaenyra in it...). To try and sum it up, it is a Modern!AU A/B/O Royal Family fic...but that all sounds so much more reductive than it actually reads. For me, it is: delicious Daemon/Rhaenyra "Us Against the World" vibes, where even if they're not physically together they are 100% together, with a healthy (or rather unhealthy, in-context) dose of creepy Outsider POV, and the promise of Alpha/Omega-induced drama, love, possessiveness, and danger to come. It is juicy and beautifully written, and is giving me so many things I want all in one place.

[chokchokk]

Hi! Can I request for mafia/badboy/CEO domSanHwa x freader smut? I’m not sure what you’re comfortable with so just make it freaky and write what you’re comfortable with and leave out those you are not okay with!!

Was thinking about: daddy kink, mirror sex, breeding and bulge kink, choking, voyeur, exhibitionism, dirty talk, slight hair pulling??, any other freaking things you wanna add~

dearest anon, when i got this request i smashed my fist into the desk because HOW DID YOU KNOW i am trying to rewrite my mafiateez-series because i just love the concept of criminials!ateez so muchthatihavebeentryingto— *inhales*

i know you don’t know but i am making this canon now LMAO!!!

and tbfh with ya i do not have a daddy kink LMAO but you phrased it so kindly, yet you asked for freaky so i really hammered down on that one (youre welcome.) hope you get your thirst quenched!

here's the link to read "serve time" !! if you want find out more about the series, click to read more :)

to be honest, i spent my whole life making fun of the western sexy man bad boy mafia-trope ok. LMAO sue me

as a sucker for korean noir, i just appreciate/love the angsty, gritty and morally scratchy reality of kkangpae/geondal (= korean gangsters), and that world portrayed in korean media a titsy tiny bit more.... lol

inspiration for this series over all would be "nameless gangster" (yoon jongbin) and "new world" (park hoon-jong) but only for my characterisation for the teez boys

there's always been a little lack of strong female characters in these movies and while i do understand where that comes from, i wanted to explore the morality and ethics a woman could stand for in an industry like this without being too much of a femme fatale? i think i do tend to write for a more dominant, cheeky fem!reader, but yeah!!!

i had this one in my drafts since june 30, with my mafia series i had on ao3 being posted idk when i started with writing for ateez this year and i just?? idk kinda held myself back from wanting to really take myself serious because i fr just wanted to make fun of the trope lmao....... now i'm here having written 15k+ words so uh. yeah look at me now right

that being said, my main influence is having read bai, aka @/hwaightme's mafia!gangster!seonghwa fic "bang bang" AND I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH LMAO BECAUSE UH? it might actually be tattooed into my brain idk. IT'S JUST SO AMAZING? and fulfills every little dream of mine to have a woman-centred mafia noir movie. UGH.

anyhowww korean culture!

i used a bunch of proverbs which will kinda become important but ill make very clear when you can or when you don't have to pay attention so dont worry LMAO !!!!

with the help of my irl friends, i have tried to make the honorifics sound more natural and will provide you a list now to kinda guide you through it (it's not THAT complex tho tbh.)

this is only for chapter 1, i dunno exactly how it's gonna be like for chapter 2 !!!

"teacher" = "seu-nim" to refer a buddhist monk

"brother" = "hyung-nim" to refer to older male, in this context used to express that san is a mafiaboss who speeaks highly of seonghwa ("hyungnim" is also used to address mafiabosses)

"baby" is honestly a standalone? the equal would be "aga" or "jagiya" but i think mafiaboss!san means it as like baby baby, so "aga" (the cuter version of "aegi")

"daddy" (LMAO HELP) = "OPPA"???? okay this one still has me baffled but it will not be that relevant anyway. we did think of this as.... oppa tho. like it has the same implications at least LMAOOO

[separatist-apologist]

Are You Ready For It

In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do

Summary: When Elain Archeron's roommate can't interview wealthy business man and school alumni Lucien Vanserra, Elain agrees to step in.

Little does she know what Mr. Vanserra does behind closed doors.

Or what he'd do to her, if she'd only agree to let him.

NOTE: Since this is a 50 shades of grey re-write, there is absolutely BDSM inside. It has been re-written to include an incredibly amount of consent/discussion/enthusiastic participation. However, if BDSM isn't your thing, it's just not your thing. No shame in the game. There is also some light DV but that occurs from a villain and not between the main LI's, but it will be included in the tags on AO3. Please use discretion when reading.

Also I've never read 50 sog so my knowledge is based on what I've heard. This is more like 50 shades of orange

written for @queenofsilverfire and @sjmkinkmeme

beta'd by the incomparable @the-lonelybarricade

Chapter 1: Some boys are trying too hard

Read more: AO3 | 15k words

Autumn in Velaris was Elain Archeron’s favorite time of year. In between the start of the semester madness of a new year and finals, October was a personal sweet spot for the college senior. Elain was looking forward to the future, one that saw her on her own for the first time in her life. Her roommate, Arina, would be moving out of their little shoebox apartment to live with her boyfriend Jack and Elain intended to take over the rent full-time. She’d been working more hours for a florist, squirreling away everything as best she could in order to ensure she’d have enough to live on.

It was a small life but it was hers. 

Elain biked from campus to her apartment, a mere seven blocks from the ancient, storied halls of Velaris U. The majority of the people living in the four story walk-up where also students which meant at any given time Elain could hear fucking, fucking, and partying through the paperthin walls. Rent was cheap and the neighborhood nice enough though the trade-off was the landlord was not interested in doing any maintenance at all. The gray hallway carpet must have been two decades old and the paint was peeling from every wall. Inside the apartment, Elain ignored the creeping black on the shower tile, scrubbing it away only for it to return with the humidity every spring.

Housing was expensive and Elain, like Arina, was poor. Splitting rent meant they always had money for cute shoes and clothes and, when the mood struck them, a drink at the bar. Elain stepped inside to find Arina sliding on a tall pair of heels. She was a cocktail waitress at a local sports bar that exclusively hired hot, tall co-eds. Elain had been offered a job more times than she could count and chose to see it as a flattering thing, though Arina’s shorts were basically cheeky underwear with sheer black tights beneath and the top was an actual sports bra.

“Do me a favor tomorrow,” Arina began by way of greeting.

“Missed you too,” Elain replied, setting her keys on the dingy kitchen countertop. Arina winced, pulling her thick, blonde hair up in a high ponytail.

“I’m supposed to be interviewing some hot shot CEO type for the school paper tomorrow. He's a former alum and this is a huge favor. I can’t make it, Jack—” Elain groaned at the sound of Jack’s name, plopping onto the thrifted seafoam green couch. “C’mon. Don’t be shitty about Jack.”

“And Jack? Is he allowed to be shitty?” Elain replied. Jack, who was so far beneath Arina as a dropout, wanna be streamer with a paltry following of two hundred. Elain had more instagram likes on a photo of the sunset than Jack had views on every bad video he’d ever made. He didn’t work, mooched off Arina for everything, and still had the audacity to treat her like she ought to be grateful to have him.

Elain didn’t get it. Jack was mediocre at best and Arina could have modeled if she wanted. Men routinely stopped her on the street to ask for her number and had literal celebrities in her DM’s on instagram. Jack was pale and skinny, unwashed and foul-mouthed. He’d never liked Elain and the only saving grace had always been that Elain wasn’t willing to abandon Arina like Jack wanted. For four years, Elain had been Arina’s roommate.

She would have continued, but Jack was dangling the promise of marriage over Arina’s head in exchange for her moving in full time. Elain understood it—Arina would spend the rest of her life financing his life while he played video games all day. Jack lacked all of Arina’s ambition and drive. 

Arina didn’t respond to Elain’s question, turning plaintive green eyes on her friend. “Will you for me? Thrity minutes if that. I’m sure he’s way too busy. I emailed him all my questions this morning so all you have to do is repeat them for him, record his answers, and thank him for his time. Please?”

Arina, head of the school paper, wanted to be a journalist someday. Elain sighed.

“I guess I can give some billionaire the ‘ol razzle dazzle. What’s his name?”

“Lucien Vanserra. He’s got some fancy tech company.”

“Vanserra? Like the Senator?” she questioned. Arina nodded with big eyes.

“Yeah. His oldest brother is the state’s senator in D.C. So he’s well connected. Just give him some doe eyes—yes, just like that—ask your questions and you’re free for the rest of the day.”

“Fine,” Elain agreed. “But you know I lack all your charm, so don’t be surprised when he writes a very angry e-mail.”

Arina rolled her eyes, well aware that when men found charming about her laid between her legs. “Thanks for this. Gray called, by the way. If you want to call him back.”

Arina still had a landline, complete with an actual voicemail. She thought it was charming though Elain found nothing charming about the shrill ring of ruby red phone at seven in the morning. Gray was her very recent ex and not by her design. He’d ended things, saying he wanted to meet new people in the last year of their relationship.

And Elain was still miserable over it. He wanted to be friends but Elain wanted to be in love. She’d blocked him so he’d stop sending her memes because it made her too hopeful he had changed his mind. She knew he hadn’t—she’d heard he’d slept with some girl in a sorority that same night. He merely wanted to keep her on the backburner and Elain needed to patch up her battered, bruised heart. 

“Thanks,” Elain murmured, suddenly guilty she’d been so harsh about Jack. Arina only nodded.

“Don’t wait up. My shift doesn’t end until one am but I can never kick those shitheads out until three.”

Elain nodded, watching as Arina grabbed her giant white purse and marched out. Arina made twice as much money as Elain did on one shift, though the trade was men constantly tried to touch her breasts. Elain didn’t envy her that.

She spent the evening working on homework and watching television when she could take staring at her screen for a moment longer. She wanted to stay awake for Arina and was forced to give up early in the morning for bed. 

Elain woke in the middle of the night to Arina’s giggling voice and a man—Jack— stumbling their way through the apartment. Elain reached in the dark for a shoe laying on the floor and threw it at the wall.

“SHUT UP!” she yelled, earning exaggerating whispering and a distinctly deep, masculine voice that did not belong to Jack.

“You have a roommate?”

Elain dug out ear plugs just in time for the moaning to start. Grabbing her phone on the side table, she noted the time was three thirty. Elain wasn’t about to condemn Arina for a one-night stand even if she did have a boyfriend. Maybe this was the first step in convincing Arina to leave him. 

Still, Elain woke bleary eyed at seven am to shower and do her hair ahead of the ten am meeting with the tech CEO. Lucien Vanserra. It was the sort of name that belonged to some snooty fifty something named by some bored heiress who wanted her son to sound more european. 

Elain curled her waist length, golden blonde hair carefully, letting it tumble down her back before she spent an hour carefully applying make-up so it seemed as if she wore none at all. She knew those types—something about the name Lucien made her think he was the sort of man that liked natural looking women, when there was nothing natural about her carefully lined pink lips. 

Dressed in a green and blue plaid dress and nice brown heels, Elain grabbed Arina’s list of questions from the counter, a sensible purse, made her way out of the apartment. 

As Elain was walking down, Jack was trudging up. Blue eyes swept over her, a sneer curling over his lips. He always looked at her like that, like she was the most disgusting filth he’d ever seen though Elain had it on good authority she looked quite pretty.

“Arina’s not in,” Elain told him by way of greeting. “Early morning meeting with her advisor.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” he snapped. Elain only shrugged.

“Maybe she’s ending things. Fingers crossed.”

“Bitch,” he hissed, shoulder checking her as she jogged down the steps. It had hurt her feelings once, the way he so casually called her that. Now, though, it was nothing to her. Every woman who disagreed with him was a bitch.

And Arina had brought home a man that wasn’t Jack. For whatever reason, Arina had abandoned her deeply held loyalty and Elain would cover for her. Jack was just behind her, shoving her at the bottom of the landing with the flat of his hand. Elain slammed into the glass door as a result, wincing from the force.

“Clumsy bitch,” he grumbled, slamming the door in her face and kicking her bike as he passed. As if it were her fault he wasn’t getting his filthy dick wet at nine in the morning. Elain was pissed by the time she got on the road, made worse by shitty drivers in big cars that seemed to have a personal problem with cyclists. She caught sight of her face in the mirrored window of the Vanserra building, noting the purpling bruise along her cheekbone. Fucking Jack. 

She pushed it out of her mind for the moment. Get through this interview and then she’d call Arina and rant. Elain took a breath and plastered a smile on her face. Thirty minutes. 

The lobby was sleek and clean, all tinted glass windows and shiny, slippery floors. There was a coffee stand opposite the elevators and huge, potted trees to offer color to the otherwise very corporate lobby. She walked to the front desk where a pretty blonde in a headset stared at her phone.

“Lucien Vanserra?” she asked when blue eyes flicked to her face. The woman clacked long nails on her keys.

“Arina?”

“Yep,” Elain lied, flashing Arina’s student ID so quickly the girl couldn’t get a read on it. Not that she cared—that receptionist could not have been more bored if she tried.

“I’ll let him know you’re on your way up. Twenty fourth floor.”

“Great,” Elain replied, though it wasn’t great at all. She joined the crowd of nice suits and skirts all huddled around the six doors that would take her upwards, glancing at the mirror between two of the elevators. She would have been flawless had it not been for that bruise. It wouldn’t matter—she doubted he’d notice. It was merely a stain to her vanity and a reminder that Jack was the worst man she’d ever met. 

Vanserra’s floor was just as sleek and just as clinical. Laminate wood broke up the heavy, shiny tile from the lobby though the effect was hardly better. Another blonde at another mahogany desk was waiting with the same annoyed expression. “You’re early,” the girl told her. 

Elain glanced at her phone. Early by two whole minutes. 

“Sorry,” she replied, her voice betraying just how not sorry she was. Elain took a seat on a nice elegant couch, practically sinking into the middle. She had to cross her legs not to look ridiculous or risk showing anywhere the underwear beneath her dress. While she waited, she pulled out her phone.

Sorry about last night.

Thanks for not telling Jack. 

I don’t know what got into me.

Let me know how the interview goes. I don’t think I’m going to see him tonight.

Are you mad?

Elain typed out a quick of course I’m not, I’ll see you soon just as the blonde answered a shrill, ringing phone. Her eyes slid to Elain before she murmured agreement.

“Mr. Vanserra will see you now.”

Why did she make that sound so ominous? Elain gingerly rose to her feet, ignoring the irritated receptionist and her clicking teeth. Was it a requirement to work for the Vanserras that a person have the worst attitude known to man? Elain followed the girl, dressed in a nice pencil skirt and tucked in white top, through an open desk space where people milled about, working and talking and generally going about their day. It seemed casual enough despite the heels on the girl in front of her. Elain caught jeans and legging on more than one person. The whole back wall was a long window overlooking the city, allowing sunlight to pour directly into the room.

She knew the corner office belonged to Vanserra before the door was ever pulled open. Tinted glass made it impossible to see in, though she was willing to bet he could see everything. King of his domain, ever the micromanager. The blonde rapped sharply on the glass, her sour mood melting into breathless fascination.

“Mr. Vanserra? Your ten o'clock is here.”

The tall, leather backed chair swiveled to look at Elain understood what had turned the angry receptionist into a purring kitten. She blinked at the man staring back at her, his shoulder length, auburn hair loose around his chiseled, golden brown face. Russet eyes peered at her with clinical interest and Elain wondered how he’d gotten the trio of scars etched through his otherwise immaculately thick brows. A full mouth turned upwards in a polite smile and when he stood she found that he was tall, well over six foot, and muscular despite the suit that hid his frame.

“Thanks, Beth.”

“Of course. If you need anything,” she added, drawing a bewildered look from Elain. It was so openly suggestive that Elain couldn’t help her open mouth surprise. Was that how he ran his business? 

He didn’t react. “Of course.”

And that was that. Lucien gestured for her to sit across his desk in another large chair, this one with a seat firm enough she didn’t sink to her neck. Elain’s eyes glanced over the shelves of books and the table of neatly organized awards and diplomas.

“So. Arina Novak–”

“Elain Archeron,” she interrupted quickly. “Arina is my roommate. She was…sick…so I’m filling in.”

Why did he look so amused? He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “Another journalist?”

“Botany,” she replied quickly. His smile faded for a moment and Elain knew what he thought. Young—likely no older than thirty—and rich, he’d imagined her coming to meet him. Elain reached into her purse for her questions while he reclined in his chair.

“What do you do with a botany degree?”

She shrugged. It was a question her older sister asked constantly. “Starve, I suppose. So, for my first questi—”

“What do you mean, starve?”

Elain looked back up at him, unnerved by his interest. “My sister always says I should have done something useful. It’s just a bad joke. I like making floral arrangements and event planning. Stuff like that.”

“Ah. Event planning for a wedding?”

Elain blinked. He was staring at her with such intensity that his words sounded sultry, like he was asking if she wanted to get married. Heart racing, Elain nodded. “Maybe.”

“My mother is remarrying. Maybe I’ll give her your number.”

“You don’t have it,” Elain said without thinking. A cheshire's smile spread over his impossibly handsome face.

“Easily rectified, I would imagine.”

She looked back at her questions. “Did you always know you wanted to–”

“This is the part where I say this was my dream, right? That I’m so fortunate to do what I love and I could never have done it without the education from Velaris U?”

“Is that true?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe I’m just good at conning investors out of money.”

“Spoken like a true nepo baby,” she said quickly without thinking. Lucien’s eyes went wide and too quick, Elain realized she’d crossed a line.

“I—”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound dark and rich like honey dripping over chocolate. “That certainly didn’t hurt,” Lucien agreed, eyes sparkling. “Who taught you how to interview?”

“No one,” she breathed, so utterly embarrassed she could have died from it. “I’m sorry.”

He waved a hand, revealing a well defined vein just beneath the skin and a watch that made his fingers seem longer, the whole thing seem bigger.

She looked away. “I ah…do you think your education was helpful?”

“Of course,” he agreed as Elain quickly scribbled his words down. “Don’t worry about transcribing. I’ll follow up with your friend so she can quote me directly. I don’t trust you not to remind everyone I am not the self-made man the media makes me out to be.”

“Oh. Then I’ll get out of you–”

“Stay,” he said with easy authority, the sort that kept her rooted in spot. “We still have twenty-five minutes.”

“I’m sure you’re a busy man,” Elain insisted, though she didn’t move at all. Lucien watched her appraisingly, waiting. 

“Not too busy for a current student at my alma mater. And if you leave, someone else will come in to talk to me. So really you’re doing me a favor.”

Elain very much doubted that. Crossing her legs, Elain couldn’t help but ask, “Why did you decide to do all this?”

His eyes glazed over, wholly focused on her knee. She didn’t dare move, certain he was just thinking though it felt as if he could see what was beneath her dress. He cleared his vision and exhaled a breath.

“I’m good at it,” he finally told her. “And sometimes you’ve got to lean into your strengths, right? I was never going to be an artist.”

“Is that a hobby of yours?”

She wished she hadn’t asked. His eyes went dark for a moment, that sultry smile back. “Not quite.”

Elain didn’t quite appreciate the sensual tone of his words or the way he was looking at her like she was a meal. What would he have done if it were Arina who walked into his office? Suddenly the blonde receptionist and her flirty words made more sense. He was sleeping with his subordinates.

How utterly cliched. 

“Well,” she began awkwardly.

“Sit down, Ms. Archeron.” her murmured and Elain immediately plopped back down before her brain caught up with her actions. Something about him exuded authority. Maybe it was the suit draped perfectly against his long, muscular body. Maybe it was the confidence in which he carried himself.

Maybe she just needed to get laid and any man looking at her the way he was would have been enough to make her obey. Elain didn’t want to examine that too quickly. Lucien cocked his head for a moment.

Studying her.

“What’s your plan after you graduate? Do you have a job lined up?”

“Why? Are you offering me one?” she replied, thinking of his receptionist. He was so utterly transparent, so completely absurd—

Lucien laughed again. “Oh, I don’t think you’d enjoy working here for a moment. Alumni help students find jobs all the time. Why should I be any different? I’ve been thinking on how I could support the school—”

“Maybe a scholarship,” she said quickly, noting how his smile never shifted. “Since you’re so fortunate to have so much.”

“Do you have experience in such things?”

She shrugged. “Do I need to in order to care about people less fortunate than me?”

“Touche, okay. I hear you. You find me spoiled and arrogant, then?”

Yes. A flush crept up her cheeks. She was messing this all up. “No, I…”

“It’s alright,” he all but purred, leaning forward, elbows on his desk. “Honesty is better than ass-kissing, right?”

“I suppose,” she agreed, shifting nervously in her chair. 

Pushing his luck, Lucien said, “Why don’t you give me your email and I’ll introduce you to someone I know in event planning?”

He slid an orange sticky pad and a rather nice pen Elain’s fingers itched to steal towards her. She scribbled the email quickly, wondering if this was going to come back to haunt her. It would be nice to get some help. Her advisor was utterly useless, uninterested in Elain’s future career and she lacked connections that other students had. Everyone else was lining up jobs so effortlessly and Elain was floundering in her interviews. If this man wanted to help her, Elain decided she’d let him. It didn’t mean she owed him anything—in fact, Elain very decidedly would not repay him with anything he needed. He’d get a thank you like anyone else. 

He glanced at his watch, frowning at whatever he saw. It was just enough time for her to jump out of her chair before he could boss her into sitting back down. 

“Well…this was…” this was what? A waste of her time? The new highlight of her erotic daydreams? “Thank you for your time, Mr. Vanserra,” she decided lamely. He rose and oh God she wished he hadn’t. He was like a dream, something from a fantasy and not real life. Men like him, with perfect bodies and perfect faces and the good sense to know exactly what cologne to wear, had no business walking around in real life. He offered her a broad hand and Elain accepted. His skin was warm, his grip firm.

“The pleasure was all mine. I’ll walk you out?”

And though he technically asked a question, he spoke it like a command. Elain didn’t bother to respond, merely nodding her head. She was oddly conflicted—he was so bossy it was irksome and so handsome she was willing to overlook it. That was a dangerous combination. 

Though ultimately, it didn’t matter. Lucien pressed the button that would take her back to the lobby and then made his way to the reception desk where his breathless secretary tracked his every move. She leaned forward, breasts all but spilling from her top and Elain was forgotten. 

She tried to pretend it didn’t disappoint her a little. He was merely a man very good at making people feel seen and special. That was his charm. She’d read too much into the interaction and now she felt stupid.

Still, Elain reflected on the meeting in her mind over and over, barely aware of the world around her as she biked home. Elain flung open the door to her apartment to find Arina on the couch, dressed in yoga pants and a slouchy shirt. She was frowning at her laptop screen and for a horrible moment, Elain was sure Lucien Vanserra had complained about her.

“How did it go?” Arina asked, brushing wisps of hair off her face. 

“What did he say?” Elain asked too defensively, dropping her bag loudly on the counter.

Arina didn’t smile. “That you were utterly charming and to let him know if we need anything else. Filled out all our questions. In and out, just like I said. Was he nice?”

And it wasn’t worth telling Arina the utter fantasy she’d let herself imagine. That a man like Lucien Vanserra, a person likely surrounded by a parade of beautiful, available women, was interested in college student studying botany.

“Yeah. Totally normal.”

“Good.” She snapped her laptop lid shut. “I need you to do something else with me.”

“With you? Or for you?” Elain sat beside her friend.

“With me. I ah…last night,” Arina took a breath, steeling herself. “I fucked up last night and if Jack finds out…”

“Fuck Jack,” Elain said automatically, though she omitted what Jack had done that morning. She could never bring herself to tell Arina the true scope of how awful he was. 

“A man came in and he was so charming and he was in this suit…he smelled good and he wasn’t being disgusting…I don’t know what happened, Elain. I swear, it was like…it was like someone else took over my body. I just wanted to be that girl, you know? The one that an attractive man wants.”

Elain’s mouth fell open because Arina was that girl to everyone but Jack. 

“He seems to think something is going to come of that night and I just…there’s this party this weekend and he invited me. Come with me. I’m going to tell him nothing can happen but I don’t want to go alone.”

“Why not just text him?”

Arina looked down miserably at her phone. “I don’t have his number. I’m afraid he’ll just show up and it’ll cause a huge scene. Please? Just one night. It’ll have free food and drinks–”

“Of course I’ll go,” Elain said easily. “If only for free drinks.”

Arina put her head on Elain’s shoulder. 

“You’re the best.”

LUCIEN:

Lucien reclined in his office chair, manilla envelope in hand, courtesy of his friend and partner, Jurian. Slicing it open with his finger, he pulled out the documents inside. 

Elain Archeron.

The very first sheet was merely a picture of a younger version of her–likely eighteen, likely taken on her first week on campus given it was her student ID. Jurian didn’t have much in the way of information. Elain was so clean she didn’t even have a traffic ticket. He’d watched her leave from his office on a cute little green bike, replete with a bell and basket. 

Jurian had dug up some things she’d written in the paper for her friend Arina—all on plant care—a few pictures of her that had been added to the paper, and then her former addresses. She’d grown up in the midwest which checked out to Lucien. She had that sort of sweet, down-to-earth persona that was refreshing to someone like him.

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since he’d last seen her. Just a day and yet when he’d gotten home he’d had to take his aching cock in his hand and pump one out just to get through the night. Lucien couldn’t recall ever being so affected to the mere presence of a woman. Not like that.

It was her eyes, wet and brown and wide like a baby deer. She radiated innocence and he wanted to put his filthy hands all over her and ruin her. He would have bet everything he owned on Elain being a wild, bratty little thing in the right circumstances. Lucien set the paperwork back to his desk, turning his eyes back to her email. He wanted to talk to her and had no excuse to do so. He’d lied about the contact—he’d have to find one, first, if he wanted to make that introduction. He’d merely sensed she wouldn’t hand over her phone number without a reason. Lucien remembered being a college senior and how stressed everyone had been about finding a job. She was no different. 

Of course he wanted to help…only his help really was centered around her naked body and his cock. She didn’t know that. Not yet anyway. He hoped she might, if he could figure out the right way to approach her that made him seem alluring and sexy and not like a fucking loser. It was a fine line and he knew it. 

His door banged open and Beth stepped in, blue eyes bouncing between his moron brother and him. Beth was so obnoxiously obvious with her hot for teacher eyes that Lucien was extra careful with how he spoke to her. He knew if he or Eris ordered her to her knees, she’d have done it without a second thought.

Maybe that was what drew him towards Elain. Nepo-baby. Fuck she was funny and more importantly, she wasn’t impressed with him at all. When was the last time he’d fucked someone that wasn’t hoping for an accidental pregnancy or that her pussy was the one that would make him fall in love? He just wanted to know what it would be like.

That’s all it was. 

“How young is too young?” Eris asked by way of greeting, before Beth had even shut the door. Lucien suppressed an eye roll at her obvious interest. Lucien waited for her to close the door before answering.

“If you’re asking, you already know.”

“I fucked a twenty two year old the other night. Jesus, though…if you saw her body–”

“It’s like you want a scandal,” Lucien reminded Eris patiently. “She’s going to rat you out–”

“She didn’t know who I was,” Eris breathed, pacing Lucien’s office to mess with all his things. Eris and his nervous, political energy and his utter control…except when it came to his dick. “I want to lock her up in my house.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the press would love that. Cut her loose—”

“She’s coming to the gala tonight. Come with me. I want you to see her.”

“I don’t need to see her. She’s too young.”

“There’s free alcohol,” Eris said, switching tactics. “And Jess will be there–”

“I don’t want to see Jess,” Lucien grumbled. What a stupid, old crush that had been. She’d broken his heart more times than he could count and still he always came back for more when she got bored or lonely or nostalgic. It had been two years without Jess. Lucien didn’t want to reopen that door. 

“Free alcohol then. C’mon. She’s bringing a friend,” Eris added. Lucien scowled.

“I’m not interested in fucking some twenty-two year old co-ed.”

“Jesus Lucien, what’s your problem?”

“I’ll go,” he grumbled. “What’s her name, at least? Have Jurian poke around before you start making declarations of marriage.”

Eris dropped into one of the leather chairs, crossing an ankle over his knee. “Arina Novak. God, Lucien, she could model, you should see….”

Eris’s voice trailed off in his head. Arina Novak. Elain Archeron’s roommate. What were the odds his brother slept with her the night before Elain came in her friend's stead. His whole body tightened at the thought of seeing her again, somewhere outside of work where he could be looser, where a little alcohol might lower her guard just enough to appreciate what he had to offer. 

If he let Eris know he had any interest, his brother would pounce. “Fine. But I don’t think a twenty two year old is a good politician's wife.”

“She’s got a face for television,” Eris disagreed, clearly pleased his brother agreed. “And a body for porn. You’ll see.”

And that was that. Eris left Lucien with that little piece of knowledge when he still had hours left of his workday. He got shit done, his mind constantly wandering back to Elain in her tight, flared dress that showed nothing more than her knees and buttoned practically to her neck. Her cascade of loose curls that fell down her back in golden brown waves and her fucking full lips, the sort he could not stop imagining wrapped around his cock while her arms were tied behind her back. Lucien wanted to see her on her knees so bad it made him sick.

He went home and fucked his hand twice before he ever made it into the shower. It helped, if only a little and by the time he was dressed in a white button up tucked into belted black slacks, a jacket thrown on overtop, Lucien felt sane again. Like a man firmly in control and not ruled by his stupid, needy penis. 

He left his hair around his face before heading out, checking his phone every eight seconds as if she’d text. Not yet. But tonight, he vowed. Tonight he’d work her into dinner, would lay the groundwork to getting her into his apartment…into his ropes. 

He was early as he rolled up to the hotel Eris was holding his little fundraiser in. Gala, as if this were a charity. Lucien jogged up the steps to the swinging glass door and made his way through the wide, open interior of the lobby. It was an old hotel made from marble and glass and crystal, back when craftsmanship and style were more important than towering, sleek skylines. He could appreciate the former—he loathed the latter. 

The ballroom had been transformed into something straight out of the roaring twenties, save for all the people in modern clothing. A massive chandelier poured soft light across white and black swirled marble floors. A long bar at the far end of the room was serving pre-selected cocktails along with the obvious beers, of course. Waiters in coats and tails walked about with trays of food they offered to people sitting at round tables draped in lacy white. A dance floor was cordoned off and though there was a DJ, the music could have come from a small quartet of violins. All very tasteful for Eris’s chosen crowd and the perfect, ambient setting for Lucien’s slow seduction.

All of which was interrupted by his mother. Swanning over in a pretty blue dress, she grinned when she saw him. “Lucien,” she breathed, kissing his cheek. He was sure she’d left a pink stain on his skin. “I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

“You know how work is,” he replied, though in truth Lucien couldn’t stand that old house. Beron, his father, might be dead but his ghost lingered. No amount of her engagement to Helion could alter that. 

“Mmm,” she agreed noncommittally. “You know, Jess is here.”

Lucien saw her the moment his mother said her name. Jess, with her straight, dark hair and her wide, coal colored eyes. She had glossy lips and her tits pushed up to her neck. An hourglass body taunted him, reminding her of all the nights he’d had her trussed up, that mouth gagging around him.

The thought used to make him ache. Their eyes met and Lucien was surprised he hadn’t had a visceral response. He merely inclined his head before turning his attention to the rest of the room. 

“Jess is over,” he told his mother without hesitation. 

“Well, let me introduce you to…”

Everything melted when his head turned towards those open doors and Elain Archeron stepped in. She wore a tight red dress and matching red lipstick. Her sultry eyes were all made up so they seemed wider and darker than before and her hair—fuck, her perfect waterfall of curls—hung loose around her face. The barest hint of breast peeked over the top of the nightmare she was currently clad in, the hem cutting against her slim upper thighs. Lucien’s whole body was tight again, his cock stirring in his pants.

She’d come just as he’d hoped he might. Beside her was Eris’s tall blonde—gorgeous, to be certain and yet Lucien was immensely grateful his brother had kept Arina from coming to her interview. 

Elain’s eyes swept over the room, snagging on him quickly. He couldn’t help his slow smile creeping over his face and was stupidly pleased when her face flushed. She wasn’t immune either, then. 

“Another time, mother,” he assured her, stepping away without waiting to hear her protesting words. Eris beat him to the girls, walking them towards the bar like an utter bastard. Elain glanced over her shoulder, looking away when she realized he was coming towards her. What was she thinking, he wondered? 

“This is my brother, Lucien,” Eris said with a practiced smile. Lucien extended his hand to Arina first.

“We almost met, once,” he replied. “Nice to meet you for real.”

“Thank you for talking with us,” Arina agreed, her golden face pale and nervous. Lucien could see the writing on the wall, even if Eris could not. She hadn’t come to fall into his arms. She’d come to tell him to knock it off. Elain looked at her friend with expectant eyes. 

“We’ve met,” was all Elain said, her tone very much saying do what you came to do.

“Can we talk for a second?” Arina all but whispered to cool, confident Eris. Elain squeezed her friends wrist before she left, turning her attention to him.

Finally.

“We meet again,” he said, gesturing to the bar they were leaning against. “Want a drink?”

“With you?” she asked, her voice breathless. Fuck. He wanted to hear her breathless in his bedroom. 

“Who else?”

And Elain, with her unbridled audacity, looked around the room. Lucien knew, in that moment she was no mere submissive thing but a brat who would need a firm hand. The realization made his cock ache against the soft fabric of his briefs and when she wasn’t looking, hips angled towards the wood of the bar, he rubbed the heel of his hand against himself to adjust. No need to let her know she had any affect on him at all.

Breathe, you dumb motherfucker.

She frowned, eyes snagging on someone Lucien vaguely recognized. The senior Nolan had stepped in with his blonde wife and their reedy looking son. “Him?” he asked, not bothering to hide how indignant the thought made him.

“What? No,” she breathed, looking back ut Lucien with those fuck me eyes. “I just…I know him.”

“How?”

“We dated,” she replied, eyes pinching for a moment. Lucien turned to study the man—boy, really. He was handsome enough in an obvious, eighties movie villain sort of way. Lucien didn’t know the Nolan’s well enough to comment on what it must have been like, though just by looking at Graysen’s weak chin, Lucien knew he absolutely did not eat pussy.

Elain, he bet, could use it. Lucien could too. He was distracted by the thought, of her riding his face, panting in that soft, breathless sort of way. Lucien could make her loud, could draw her out, could torture her for hours, keep her on that edge.

Fuck, how he wanted to. 

“Sounds fascinating,” he replied dryly, ordering a neat whiskey while she continued to stare. Elain jerked when she realized he had moved on, her whole face impossibly tight…and bruised. When had that happened? While she ordered a vodka tonic, Lucien brushed his knuckle over her cheekbone. 

“What happened here?” he asked, noting she’d clearly tried to hide it with her hair and a thin layer of carefully applied make-up. He turned his head to look at Nolan, wondering if he needed to take him out back and beat the shit out of him. 

Elain’s eyes widened, her fingers swatting him away. “I fell.”

Lucien stared for a moment, letting her see how little he believed her. “Face first?”

“I…can be clumsy,” his pretty little liar assured him. 

Lucien reached between them for her hands. He’d spent enough time around his mother, perpetually covered in those same bruises, to know that people who fell threw out their hands to catch themselves and people who were shoved violently or hit unexpectedly had soft, unblemished palms…just like Elain. She yanked it back.

“It wasn’t him,” she breathed when Lucien rose to his full height. “Just some douchebag in my apartment building. No big deal.”

“No…big…deal…” Lucien repeated with glassy eyes, thinking of his own mother and how often she’d breathed those same words. “If you say so.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, shifting on her feet to look at the clear, bubbling liquid in her hand. Changing the subject to shift his attention, but Lucien was single-minded. He’d find that dumbfuck and he’d show them what happened when someone bigger, someone stronger, pushed them around. He did not believe it wasn’t personal or even the first time. 

“My brother,” he nodded towards the pillar Eris was reclined against, talking to his too-young blonde. “Man of the hour, as always.”

“Does that bother you?”

He grinned. “No one cares if I stand here talking to you, so nope.”

Another flush crept up her neck. “Thank you again, for meeting with me. I know it meant a lot to Arina.”

“Sure,” he agreed, not caring one bit if he did Arina any favors. He wanted to know if she had enjoyed it. No way to ask without being a creep, so instead, Lucien added, “You should let me buy you dinner. Tomorrow.”

Her eyes were so big, her pretty, red lips parted. He had fight the urge to rub his thumb over her mouth, to smear it around her face. He wanted to see that lipstick stained against his cock and fuck, Lucien had to turn and face the bar completely to keep people from seeing the obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Dinner? For what?” she asked, the sweet little thing. 

“A date,” Lucien replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—because it was. “I’ll pick you up…eight o’ clock?”

“A date?” Was it really so unbelievable to her he found her attractive? Surely that wasn’t new. Elain was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She outshone her friend and everyone else in the room without even trying. She had an effortless way about her and Lucien was willing to bet that when she wiped off all her make-up, she was just as cock-achingly stunning. 

“I uh…”

Lucien reached in his pocket for his phone, sliding it easily across the bar. She caught it on instinct. “Put your number in.” It wasn’t a request and Elain, without even realizing what he was doing, automatically picked it up and began doing what she was told. 

Good girl. 

She bit her bottom lip. Lucien resisted the urge to grab her by the chin and kiss her, forgetting where he was for a moment. 

“It’ll be fun,” he assured her. “No pressure.”

“I pay for myself,” she began, unaware of how much heat that filled him with.

“Absolutely not.”

Her fingers hesitated on the screen. “I don’t want to owe you—”

“You won’t,” he replied. He didn’t want her in his bed because she felt obligated over a decent meal. He wanted her in his bed because she was dizzy and sick with desire. “I pay for dates, though. You don’t owe me anything except your sharp wit.”

“As long as you understand I don’t have sex on the first date,” she told him firmly. Lucien almost demanded a list of men who hadn’t understood that. In time. 

“Very reasonable,” he agreed, not bothering to mention there would be a second date…and third…and on and on so long as the relationship between them remained mutually beneficial and fun. He’d explain it all tomorrow, he decided. What he wanted from her…what he wanted to give her. Start slow, start easy before working her into his personal playroom. 

Pleased to have her number, Lucien shot her a quick text so she had his phone number, too. “Feel free to text me anything you like,” he told her, letting some innuendo seep into his voice. She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing a fraction.

“You want memes?”

I want to see your pussy.

“I love memes,” he replied. “And conversation.”

“Noted,” Elain agreed, just in time for a red-faced Arina to stomp over, interrupting what was proving to be the highlight of his night.

“Can we talk?” she said, eyes cutting to Lucien with open suspicion. He merely waved the girls off, watching the sway of Elain’s hips as she went. She looked over her shoulder once, finding his unabashed staring.

I want you, doe-eyed fawn.

He’d have her.

ELAIN: 

Elain woke the next morning to a text from Lucien.

Good morning.

It wasn’t real. She didn’t know how to deal with some millionaire and his fascination. Had he really sent her a good morning text? She’d been so sure she’d imagined the whole thing, that she’d somehow stumbled into a hallucination that involved the absurdly hot Lucien Vanserra that Elain hadn’t even considered texting him, even when she left. She had immediately gone home to take a shower and perhaps alleviate some of the tension in her body beneath the pulsating water but she could hardly be blamed. After all, Lucien’s hands were so big and he smelled absurdly good.

He was going to realize that every time he spoke, all Elain was looking at was his mouth. She took a breath, inhaling strawberry and cinnamon scented air from the candle she’d been burning, mingled against the smell of burning, cheap weed.

Jack.

If Jack was around, the text was real. Elain was quick to respond good morning with a pink flower emoji before she stomped out of her bedroom in her sleep shorts and tanktop.

“Nice tits,” Jack said by way of greeting, staring at their television as he slammed around a controller in his hands. 

“Where is Arina?”

He shrugged. “She wasn’t here when I got here.”

“Then why are you here?” Elain demanded. “You don’t pay rent.”

“Bitchy as always, I see,” he replied. “Do you ever chill out?”

“Nope,” she replied. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Fuck you,” he retorted. “I’m waiting on my girlfriend and I have a key. Take your own bitchy advice, though, if it bothers you so much and go somewhere else.”

“She’s going to dump you one day,” Elain told him, practically vibrating with rage. “And you’re going to die alone.” He looked over at her with such obvious hatred that Elain yielded a step. “Arina’s not a dumb cunt like you. Heard Graysen was out again last night. Wonder why you can’t keep a man?’ 

“I’m going to tell her,” Elain whispered, the only card she had left to play. All at once, Jack exploded, flinging his controller against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. He rose to his feet, quick as a flash, to stand in her face.

“Tell her what? What a fucking nosy ass bitch you are? How you’re so fucking jealous that Arina has a man you try and sabotage it at every turn? Arina is going to figure out what a miserable, stupid bitch you are one of these days and cut you loose.”

“Maybe Arina will realize she could do better,” Elain whispered, her whole body shaking. 

“I hope you fucking die you stupid–”

“What’s going on in here?” Arina’s voice cut through Jack’s fury. Eyes wide and rimmed red, Elain didn’t have to ask if her friend had been crying. Elain took another step back and so did Jack, his fury smoothing into nothing.

“Just a friendly chat–”

“You said you hoped she died,” Arina pressed, clearly outraged. “Why would you say that?”

“Baby,” he tried but Arina held up a hand. Jack’s anger was back. “She’s fucking jealous–”

“Of what?!” Elain demanded. “All you do is sit here all day playing video games and smoking weed! You don’t work, you don’t help out! Why would I be jealous when you’re such a fucking loser!”

“See!” he tried but Arina was nodding her head.

“No…Jack…God she’s right. You’ve been saying for the last four years you’d get a job and you still haven’t–”

“My streaming—”

“Is never going to take off!” Arina interrupted, her anger burning hot. “I need help now, not for some hypothetical future!”

“I’m going to take care of you–” he tried, but Arina flung the door open behind her.

“Get out.”

“Arina–”

“GET. OUT!” she shrieked. He hesitated before ripping his system from their television so hard it nearly toppled over. 

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?” he asked when he had his things. “What’s his fucking name?”

“Common sense,” she whispered. “I should have done this last year.”

“I’ll fucking bet. I’ll find out, Reena and when I do…”

“You won’t do anything. That would require effort,” she snapped before shoving him into the hall.

“You’re a loose, ugly fucking bitch!” he screamed from the hall. “No one is gonna want you you fucking trailer park, daddy-issues cunt! Good fucking luck, Arina!”Arina didn’t react to his words, kicking her shoes off with a relieved exhale.

“You okay?” Arina looked at Elain, considering her words for a moment. “I think it took having a one-night stand with Eris Vanserra to realize how bad things were.”

“One night stand?”

“Yes,” Arina said firmly. “But it was a good night. He didn’t badger me one time and I know that’s like, a low bar but when I told him I didn’t want to do things from behind and he just agreed I had this moment of like, what am I even doing? You know? I feel bad I cheated on Jack but I needed to leave him. Eris gave me a reason, I guess.”

“And you don’t want to see him? He seemed interested,” Elain hedged carefully. Arina flopped onto the couch, nose wrinkling when she caught that stale weed smell.

“No. He’s in D.C. half the time and men like him never want anything serious. Even if he did, they don’t stay faithful. I see it all the time in the bar.”

“Lucien Vanserra asked me out. I won’t go if–”

“No, go,” Arina said, waving her hand. “Just be careful. He’s cut from the same cloth. He’ll always want more. Men like that know they can have whatever they want. Today it’s us, tomorrow it’s a different barely legal teenager. Have fun…let him take you somewhere nice, at least. Get a little jewelry out of it. Maybe a car.”

“Gosh, you make it sound too romantic,” Elain teased. 

Still, she was grateful Arina agreed and didn’t find it weird. The advice was a good reminder, too. Lucien was a grown man and so utterly unlike the other men on campus that he was practically in a different orbit. She couldn’t expect anything genuine or long-term for him. It was a first for Elain, who was so used to relationships that spanned years that maybe this was what she needed. Maybe she ought to take a page from Arina’s book and have a one night stand.

With that in mind, Elain put on the tightest black dress she owned, the one that just barely covered her ass and showed a generous amount of cleavage. She put a lacy pink thong on beneath and the matching bra, having shaved herself within an inch of her life. 

More tall, black shoes meant she won’t have to stand on tip-toes to reach his mouth and Elain took a chance and left her hair down hoping he liked that soft of thing. A sleek ponytail might have gone better, given she’d smoked out her eyeshadow and put red lipstick on again.

She strolled into the living room where Arina was still sitting, dressed down in sweatpants and an over-sized university t-shirt. 

“Jesus, Elain, why not take out a billboard that says you suck dick,” she said loudly, just in time for knocking on the door. 

“Want me to answer?” Arina teased. “Take pictures for prom?”

“Shut up.”

Elain pulled open the door where Lucien waited, eyeing the dingy, loud hall of her building with distaste. He was so ridiculously out of place she almost laughed. She wasn’t inviting him in, not when he looked so good in another well tailored set of black slacks and his shirt—blue, this time—was half hidden beneath a vest that hugged his muscular chest. He’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows and still had on the watch but it was his loose hair that made her felt wet between her legs.

Lucien couldn’t help himself, it seemed, his lips parting in a soft oh as he looked her up and down. “Ready?” 

If he was affected by her appearance, he didn’t let it show.

“Use protection!” Arina yelled just as Elain snapped the door shut. 

“No expectations?” Lucien tried to joke as she led him down the stairs. Elain watched him move, just a half-step in front of her. He was so tall, so broad…what was he like in bed? Was he the sort of man who relied on his good looks and didn’t think he ought to do any other work beyond that? Elain chose to believe Lucien lived up to the promises his big hands were currently making. 

“Don’t tell me you’re the sort that thinks clothes and consent are the same,” she replied, letting him jerk open the door. He looked down at her while she passed, his eyes so utterly dark she shivered.

“Your friend said to use protection,” he reminded her. “I just want to ensure I’m living up to your whispered expectations.”

Fuck he was so stupid and hot. “She’s just…”

Lucien’s smoldering look silenced the lie about to pour from her lips. Instead, Elain slid into the door he held open, reclining against the clean leather. His car smelled clean and masculine, like he’d just bought it that day and had sprayed himself quickly with a bit of his cologne. She wanted to bathe in that rich, spicy smell. 

Lucien jogged around the drivers side, folding his body behind the steering wheel. Elain forced herself to breathe, to act normal even though she couldn’t take her eyes off the muscle flexing in his forearm. Lucien cut a glanced towards, reaching for what she thought was her leg before he swerved and set it against the stick shift. 

“I don’t think you look like you suck dick,” he said after a moment and Elain, who had currently been imagining what it would be like to kneel between his legs, wanted to die. He’d heard that?

Lucien cleared his throat. “That came out wrong. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she managed, just barely breathing. “You do, too.”

Lucien smiled ever so slightly, as if he knew he looked good. He’d be stupid not, she supposed, doubly so when they reached the restaurant and the hostesses eyes became wide like saucers at the sight of him. 

“Table for Vanserra?” His voice was smooth and dark and velvet, skittering up Elain’s spine before wrapping around her neck. 

“Right this way,” she breathed. Arina’s words rang through Elain’s head. What was it like to move through the world this way? To have people who always wanted you so viscerally? She imagined it was incredibly tempting and a good reminder that she could offer this man nothing but her physical presence no matter how fascinated by her words he seemed.

The interior of the restaurant was dim, with tables covered in thick white fabric and as far as Elain could tell, a pre-set menu. He was showing off, then.

Doubly, when she was taken to a rather intimate semi-circular table in the back. No chairs, only a long bench Elain slid onto and Lucien joined her on the other side until his leg was pressed against her own. She could barely think let alone speak which was just as well–Lucien ordered wine and other small plates for the table with practiced ease. 

He put one arm over the back of the book, drawing her closer against his chest and creating a bubble around them that made Elain’s whole body throb. He took a breath, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Good day?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I uh…” She couldn’t remember one thing she’d done. Lucien chuckled.

“I feel the same way. You’ve been on my mind.”

She looked up at him and fuck, that was a huge mistake. He definitely caught the way her eyes zeroed in on his mouth, the way she tracked his tongue moistening his lips. “I have?”

Lucien cupped her face in his hand, the size of him enough to hold her neck, too. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, over the bruise she couldn’t quite manage to hide. “You made an impression, calling me an arrogant, spoiled nepotism baby.”

“I didn’t–I never—you–” she spluttered but Lucien dragged that same thumb over her lips, silencing her entirely. 

“Most people only want to talk about how wonderful I am.”

“I’m sure you have…good…qualities,” she replied, the pad of his finger still against her lips, salty from his skin. Lucien gripped her chin, tilting her closer.

“Mm, I suppose,” he agreed, lowering his face. He was going to kiss her. Elain felt electric, her skin humming with anticipation. 

Just like in the car, Lucien swerved at the last moment. “Wine?”

Elain’s whole brain went blank for a moment, trying to catch up with what was happening. Lucien reached for the uncorked bottle and poured two glasses of red. He offered it to her, watching as she took that first drink.

“Do you like it?”

No. Elain had never been much of a wine drinker. It tasted like wine—Elain had never been able to identify a difference between vintage and type. It was just wine flavored, sometimes sweeter and sometimes not. “It’s fine.”

“Do you prefer white?”

“I prefer vodka,” Elain told him honestly, a little annoyed he’d put his lovely mouth so close to hers only to pull away at the last second. “And a nice cider.”

That clearly surprised him. Good. Let him see that all the wining and dining wasn’t necessary. Elain would have been perfectly content at a greasy spoon. His money wasn’t what interested her, besides. It was his hands and how they’d feel running against her body. 

Not that Lucien didn’t try. He’d ordered on their behalf, watching her eat beautifully plated creations with a watchful eye. What did she enjoy? Did she enjoy the flavors, the textures, the presentations? No, no, no. In fact, every new thing was having the opposite intended effect. It reminded Elain she did not belong in this world, that she should never have agreed to go. What would likely have impressed a million other girls only served to make her feel inadequate. 

Elain had put a considerable amount of distance between them by the time the last plates were cleared away. She could see he was frustrated, unsure of what he was doing wrong. Elain bet this had worked a million times before. Instead of trying to escape, she ought to be crawling in his lap and calling him daddy. Some part of her still wanted to, of course. It wasn’t as if Lucien had stopped being hot. He was merely unattainable to her now—a fantasy better left in her head. 

Lucien paid while Elain checked her phone brazenly. It was universal speak for a bad date that would absolutely not be replicated, a shame given how wet the fabric of her thong still was. Lucien kept eyeing her, letting the silence drag.

She couldn’t help herself, so annoyed with him for his stupid date and all his money and good looks that Elain dug through her clutch, pulling out a mirror and her lipstick, repainting it against her lips while he watched her with dark, nearly rabid eyes. 

“Well,” she began, snapping the compact closed loudly. “This was fun but—”

“But nothing,” Lucien interrupted smoothly. “Stand up.”

And fuck, Elain did exactly as he told her to. Lucien rose to his feet, putting a hand on the small of her back to guide her back to his car. A valet had it pulled up and Lucien, still showing off, pulled a neatly folded bill from his pocket and handed it over without a second glance. Opening her door, Lucien’s expression told her he was not done with her and dinner was merely a prelude for whatever he’d planned next.

This time, Lucien slid his hand over her thigh and squeezed. A rush of heat flooded between her thighs, filling Elain with want.

“Where are you taking me?”

“What would impress you, Elain?” he asked instead, pulling from the road in a dark alley and cutting the ignition. Elain hesitated. “You hated every minute of that, didn’t you?”

She blinked. She wasn’t used to being called out this way. Lucien leaned forward, blanketing her in his scent. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“What would it take to impress you?” he whispered, curling his other hand against her face. His thumb smeared lipstick over her cheek and Elain didn’t think she’d ever been so aroused in her life. She could feel her heart beating between her legs hot and insistent. 

“You can’t impress me,” Elain lied. In truth, she’d been impressed when he’d sidled up next to her at the bar and offered her nothing but his time and attention. Lucien knew it. One moment he was looking at her with his wild, needy eyes and the next his mouth was slanted over her own. 

Elain moaned at that first brutal touch. There was no polite first kiss, no slow seduction. It was as hot as he was, burning like there was fire just beneath his skin. His tongue swept into her mouth, hand tangled in her hair. Elain was electric, made all the worse when he yanked her into his lap. She leaned back, softly beeping his horn for all Lucien cared. He reclined his seat as far as it could go, forcing her to lay against him while he kissed her breathless and stupid. His face was messy from her mouth and when she pulled back to look, Lucien’s grin was feral and hot. 

“Did you make a mess of me?” he breathed, grabbing the back of her neck. He nipped almost painful kisses against her skin. “Am I making a mess of you?”

It was so utterly indecent. Elain pressed her hands against his strong chest. “I told you no sex on the first date.”

“As if you were going to give me a second,” he replied, skimming those same hands over the curve of her ass. “Besides, it’s hard to fuck you the way I want in my goddamn car.”

“Then what…” she trailed off when his hand slipped beneath her dress, brushing against her fabric.

“Soaked,” he taunted, lips back against her own. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

He rubbing her through the lace, teasing and taunting just enough to make her breathless but not so much he was giving her what she needed. 

“Last night,” she admitted, moaning against his jaw, her hips rolling against his hand. Lucien chuckled darkly. 

“Tell me.”

“You’re not the boss—”

Lucien tangled his free hand in her hair and tugged, exposing her throat. “Tell. Me.”

“Shower,” she panted, so obscenely turned on.

“Did you spray the water against your pretty pussy?” he asked, licking the column of her neck. 

“Yes.”

“All spread out?”

“Yes,” she whined, back to rocking against his hand. Lucien pulled the fabric apart, dipping one of his fingers into her body.

“What did you imagine?”

God she couldn’t tell him, it was so embarrassing. Lucien pushed and Elain couldn’t help the whimper that escaped.

“Tell me, baby. What was I doing to you?”

“Stop it,” she whispered and all at once his hands were gone. Lucien’s eyes were wide, his lust replaced by real fear. Elain ground herself against him. “I can’t say—”

Lucien kissed again, needy and hot, his hand back beneath her dress pumping roughly. His thumb rubbed against her clit, drawing out moan after moan. His tongue stroked against her own, his claiming, devouring her whole. 

“Was it this?” he asked, his voice a rasp. “Was I eating your pussy? Was I fucking you? Tell me, Elain. Tell me so—”

“Yes,” she agreed. “All of it.”

“Is that what you want?” he continued, each kiss sliding into the next. She was building, grinding in his lap. Lucien pushed a third finger into her body, filling her entirely with his touch, his claiming kiss. He curled those fingers, thumb rubbing tight circles and Elain came apart all over his legs and hands in a dark, abandoned alley. Lucien rode her through it, kissing hard until she was panting and sensitive. 

And then she was back in her seat while he wiped his hand against his thigh like nothing had happened. He restarted the car casually, as if she couldn’t see the large, heavy outline of him bulging in his pants.

“I—”

“The first time you touch me won’t be in my car,” Lucien interrupted before she could offer. 

“What will it be like?” she whispered. Lucien smiled, pulling them back onto the road. 

“Have you ever been tied up, Elain?”

Not really. Graysen had once bound her hands up in silk but she’d escaped easily. She suspected Lucien was not asking to do the same. “No.”

He nodded. “I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

Still coming down from her orgasm, Elain was in a lusty fog. “What kind of proposition?”

Lucien gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment. “I’m looking for a specific kind of relationship, Elain.”

She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going though she waited for him to just get it out. “I’m looking for a submissive. Do you understand what that means?”

She wasn’t stupid. “What sort of submissive?”

“In the bedroom,” he explained. “There would be…rules.”

She was certain he could deliver this information without making it sound so sinister. “What sort of rules?”

“I can send it to you,” he murmured, cutting a glance to her. “If you’re interested?”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then we part ways with no hard feelings,” he replied easily. “It’s not for everyone and I’m not in the business of forcing women into having sex with me.”

“But…but you won’t have sex without these conditions?” she questioned.

“Precisely.”

And Elain, who was perhaps not thinking entirely clearly and still far too interested in him, despite the disastrous date, decided to be bold again. “Send me your rules.”

Lucien smiled. “You got it, baby.”

LUCIEN: 

He didn’t hear from her all day. Lucien had his contract sent over that very next morning along with another good morning text. She’d said nothing at all, filling him with cold dread. Silence was an answer just as sure as anything and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d fucked his hand in his car and how it had still smelled like her when he’d gotten in that morning.

He wasn’t going to push. 

Still, he was in a foul mood when he returned home, throwing off his clothes angrily around his large bedroom. Phone tossed on the bed, Lucien paced restlessly. He could have had her all the same—he could have started out by meeting her expectations before easing her into it. He wanted too much all at once and Elain in that tight dress had made him too desperate.

Considering just walking it all back, Lucien went into his bedroom again where his phone screen was lit up against the black blankets.

My sister is a lawyer. I don’t think any of this is enforceable.

Of course it wasn’t. It was merely an agreement between them, one he could set expectations up front so there was no confusion later down the road. Not that things couldn’t be negotiated but Lucien had learned early it was better to just tell people what he wanted. Lucien liked to fuck rough, liked inflicting pain and he liked doing it to someone who wanted to take it. Clear consent, clear boundaries. 

Consider it guidelines, then.

He waited, staring at the blue bubbles on the other end. She’d read it and she wasn’t running. Lucien thought that was positive, over all. 

So you’d negotiate?

Fuck he would have done just about anything if she agreed. Still, there were some things he was unwilling to bend on—the submissive and the dominant roles being the most important.

Tell me your terms.

Elain was quick. 

I’m okay with spanking but no belts.

Reasonable. Lucien could abide by that. Still, he wondered if there was a middle ground as he texted:

What about paddles?

It took her a moment to formulate a response. Lucien appreciated how thoughtful she was.

Maybe. Ease me into it and we’ll see. How hard do you plan on going in the beginning?

Not hard at all, at this rate. He took a steadying breath.

We can start small, work our way into it. See what you like and what you don’t. 

He almost asked her to come over and find out. He’d tied her up with silk easy enough to escape and lick his way up and down her body. He wasn’t sure he wanted to fuck her just yet—Lucien was certain if he did, he’d compromise too much and lose the things he enjoyed, too. More bubbles from Elain.

How will you know if I don’t like something?

Lucien tapped out his reply.

We’ll have a safeword. Say it and I’ll stop. You have control, too, even if you’re yielding it. If you can’t trust me, this doesn’t work.

I barely know you.

Come over. Let’s rectify that. No contract—just conversation and whatever else feels good.

There was a beat and then—

Okay.

Lucien sent a car over, letting her know not to get on her bike given the lateness of the hour. Turning in a circle, he surveyed his apartment through the eyes of a new person. He hadn’t invited a woman over in…fuck. Since Jess, if he was honest. Not that he hadn’t had his moments in between but those were quick and dirty and never in his bed. 

Not that Elain was a girlfriend—Lucien didn’t want that. He merely wanted a reliable partner for sex, like a step above fuck buddy but step below girlfriend. Most women balked at that. He could see Elain finding fault with that, too, but Lucien had girlfriends in the past. Too messy, too painful. Jess had taken his heart out of his body and pulverized it beneath her immaculate shoes. No hard feelings, she’d said after sleeping with his best friend at the time. It hadn’t worked out with Tamlin but she’d almost launched herself into the stratosphere. Tamlin had money, power, and prestige without working for it. Lucien would always be working, would always be merely the seventh born son. 

Eris was too into blondes to ever give Jess the time of day. Still, Lucien hadn’t wanted a girlfriend before Jess, either. He’d merely romanticized her to the point of divorcing her desire to accumulate wealth and power from what he wanted her to be—someone who loved him for him, and not his last name.

He closed the door to his playroom firmly, though he intended to give her a tour if she expressed interest. He wouldn’t bring her in tonight…but maybe soon if she responded well to some light bondage and a small spark of pain. Lucien tied up his bedroom, changing out of his suit for a more casual set of black basketball shorts and an easily removed white t-shirt. He tied his hair off his face and left only ankle socks on his feet. Tossing his clothes in the hamper and his dishes in the sink, Lucien thought his space, big as it was, was obviously masculine and still tastefully decorated and inviting enough. It wasn’t as if she’d see much, anyway. The hall, the living room and the massive glass wall overlooking the city…but Lucien intended to veer her into his bedroom even if all she wanted was to talk. 

Get her used to coming straight here, at any rate.

A knock on his door sent Lucien scrambling, settling at the last minute to project an aura of cool. He opened the door casually, surprised to see Elain also casual. No dress and very little make-up. He could see the faint freckles on her nose and that ugly purple bruise still blotted against her fair, flawless skin. She had a bag shrugged over her shoulder which gave him hope. Dressed in skin tight leggings, slouchy boots, and an oversized top, he realized he’d been right that she was hot with and without the makeup. Had she put more lacy underwear on for him? Something to remove with his teeth, perhaps? 

She fiddled with the tail of her low pony. “I just brought the bag in case…I can go home—”

“No worries. Come in.” He hadn’t meant to leave her out in the hall ogling. 

Elain’s interest was polite, eyes wide as she drank in the large paintings on the wall and his immaculate furniture. 

“You know, the wealthy man who is a secret deviant is kind of a cliche,” she said, dropping her little bag by the door as she came into his bedroom. Lucien closed the open closet and the bathroom, having already closed the bedroom door. A mounted tv against the wall could provide entertainment if his hands and mouth could not, and Lucien thought it better if there was only them and four uninterrupted walls. 

“Oh yeah?” he replied, enjoying her sense of humor. “I’m starting to think you’re a brat, Elain.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out her phone to scroll through the photos she’d taken of his contract.

“It doesn’t say anything in here about being a bra—”

“You just are,” he interrupted. “I can work with that.”

“So I don’t have to be your docile little pet on a leash?”

“Jesus Christ, Elain.”

“I also see you want me on birth control–”

“I like to fuck raw,” was his explanation. “Go to the clinic and get checked out. I’ll do the same.” She blinked. 

“What’s the point of this? Is it like a NDA?’

He almost laughed. “I would prefer discretion, but I doubt anyone is interested that seriously in my sex life. It’s more like guidelines, like I said. I want to be upfront about what I’m looking for.”

“And what, exactly, are you looking for?”

Fuck. He recognized that guarded expression, her wary curiosity.

“Like a fuck buddy but with rules. As long as we’re doing this, we’re not fucking other people. No dating, no romance and if you change your mind, no hard feelings.”

“No dating,” she repeated. 

His heart pounded in his chest. “No dating.”

“You took me on a date yesterday.”

Ah, fuck. 

“That was different,” he tried to explain, unable to explain the relief cascading over her features.

“No dating is good. Great, even,” she replied.

“Because I’m so bad at it?” he tried to joke. Elain shook her head, toying with her ponytail again.

“My boyfriend broke up with me a few weeks ago and I’m sucking at getting over it. I don’t want another boyfriend…and I don’t think I would fit into your world, anyway. I’m always dating and maybe slowing down and figuring myself out and having a little fun without all the pressure of everything else would be nice.” Lucien’s relief was punctured by one sentence. I don’t think I would fit into your world, anyway.

He shook it off. “So…is that a yes?”

“It’s a conditional yes,” Elain replied. “I want to get a feel for it because I’m all in.”

She eyed the leather restraints resting against his headboard. 

“There’ll be none of that tonight,” Lucien murmured, though he very much hoped to spread her out at some point. Deciding he’d hold off on showing her the playroom, Lucien joined her on the bed. “Let's start easy.”

She nodded.

“The only thing I want to know right now is if you’re my good girl or if you’re my brat.”

Elain sucked in a breath, looking up at him with those wide, doe eyes. “What’s the difference?” she murmured as he stroked her face.

“My good girl lives to please me and a brat likes to push my buttons.”

“How would I know which one I was?” she whispered, eyes fluttering shut. Lucien wanted to kiss her. 

“My good girl would tell me how she really got this bruise,” he whispered, thumb rubbing over the hurt. “And I’d reward her for being honest.”

She exhaled against his palm. “And what would a brat do?”

“She’d make me pull it out of her.”

“I think I’d rather be your good girl,” Elain whispered, unaware of how immediately tight his entire body went. That was Lucien’s favorite dynamic, though he didn’t mind a little brattiness from time to time. 

Still stroking her face, Lucien murmured, “Tell me, baby girl, who hurt you.”

He waited for her natural resistance, for her to tell him some little lie. Elain opened those sweet, wide eyes and he watched her give in. Testing herself to see how it felt. Trusting this moment and him, too. If he reacted badly, if he flew off the handle or punished her unfairly, Elain would back away. He’d promised to reward her. 

“His name is Jack. He pushed me down the stairs.”

Lucien swallowed his hatred. “Is Jack the ex-boyfriend?”

“Arina’s,” she said, scooting a little closer. He could see, from the anger and anguish warring in her features, that Elain needed to tell someone this. He was a stranger, harmless to her. 

Ex-boyfriend. 

“No one gets to put a hand on what’s mine,” Lucien murmured. Elain practically melted at his words. She wanted to be taken care of which worked out perfectly well for Lucien. “Do I need to teach him a lesson?”

“He’s gone,” she murmured, some of the fantasy shifting into reality. He saw the wariness return. Too far, though Lucien wasn’t about to let it go. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he’d put it on Eris’s radar if he was still panting after the roommate. 

“You’ll tell me if he comes back.” It wasn’t a question. And Elain, the good little thing, nodded her head.

“Good girl,” he praised. “My good girl. I reward my girl when she’s good. Do you want to know how?”

Elain nodded, letting him push her gently to the bed. This was easy, was just a test run. He had every intention of putting her on her on her knees but first, rewards. After all, Lucien had promised and she’d been honest. Elain watched, heavy lidded, as Lucien straddled her hips. “Arms up.”

She did exactly as she was told, letting him pull off her shirt and find the lacy black bra beneath. He couldn’t help his smile.

“For me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. Lucien dragged a finger over the fabric, teasing her nipples just beneath. “Take it off.”

Her back arched, pushing her body against his erection without meaning to. She sucked in a breath but didn’t stop, unsnapping quickly and sliding it over her arms. Just like that, Elain’s small, pert breasts were all but in his face. Naked from the top up, Lucien wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone half as sexy. Her hair tumbled around her face, half covering her from view. It was all he could do not to bury his face between them though Lucien wasn’t above a little groping. His hands dwarfed her, taking them entirely into his palm. Elain watched, her eyes impossibly dark, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you going to be loud for daddy?” he asked because God he wanted to hear her scream. Lucien wanted to see her on her hands and knees and beg, but for now, learning that she needed to articulate what she wanted—and loudly—was enough. Elain nodded, still watching.

He licked the length of her abdomen, taking her pants in his teeth and tugging. She gasped softly and Lucien thought it was probably too easy to impress her. 

“When’s the last time someone ate this pretty pussy, Elain?”

She swallowed hard. “Um…”

He waited, sliding his fingers into the band of her pants to help shimmy them down her body. “I asked you a question.”

“I can’t remember,” she admitted, jumping ever so slightly at the tone of his voice. “A year, maybe?”

Lucien felt bewildered. “What about your boyfriend?” He said it with an ugly sneer. 

“He didn’t like it,” she said, utterly naked save for the matching thong. Lucien was obsessed with the thought of Elain dressing herself up for him, putting on cute little things only he could see.

Lucien lowered himself before her, slinging her slim thighs up over his shoulders. 

“No wonder you’re so needy,” he murmured, kissing her pussy through the fabric. “You’ve been neglected.”

Elain whined softly as he nuzzled against her, inhaling the sweet, musky scent of her body. What kind of man had this wet, soft creature in his bed and didn’t devour her? Lucien had been dying to have her pussy on his face since he’d met her, since he’d watched her cross and uncross her legs in his chair. 

Pulling her out of them, Lucien stared for a moment at her bare, soaking cunt. Spread open and quivering, Lucien couldn’t believe he’d put his fingers inside her and then drove her home. If he’d known how fucking sexy she was, he’d have had his cock in her, needs be damned. 

“Fuck, baby,” he praised, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Elain responded with a sweet moan. “So wet for me.”

He was toying with her, watching how she arched and wiggled. She’d come so easily on his hand, drenching his pant leg in her slick. Lucien had smelled her on his skin all day no matter how hard he’d scrubbed. Now he’d have her on his tongue every time he spoke.

“I’m going to taste you, now,” Lucien told her, breathing the words against her wet skin. “And you’re going to be really loud for me so I know what you like. Do you understand, baby?”

“Yes,” she breathed. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. Close enough. Lucien would take it, at any rate. He hadn’t quite figured it out with her, though he was usually sir with the others. He was testing out the whole daddy thing, had always wanted that dynamic, though he’d never had a submissive who made it seem genuine. Elain looked so sweet, so innocent that it felt more natural. 

Tired of teasing and fascinated with the thought that there had been a man out there that hadn’t like eating pussy, Lucien slid his tongue up the length of her, just to see if maybe there was something bad about the way she tasted. He groaned, grinding his cock into the bed at the explosion against his senses. She was fucking good, better, even, that he’d imagined. There was a sweetness that clung to her that made her more than palatable. He could have bottled her and worn her like cologne if he’d had half a mind.

“This is my pussy now,” he told her, offering slow, languid swipes of his tongue against her trembling clit. “No one else gets to touch it. No one but me gets to taste. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” she moaned, grinding her hips into his face.

“Greedy,” he warned, noting how her eyes went wide. “Behave yourself.”

And fuck Lucien if she didn’t settle herself down, spreading her legs wider. One day he’d let her be wild, would let her do whatever she liked but today she’d do everything he said if only to prove this was a good fit for them both. 

“Good girl,” he praised, returning to his kissing and sucking. Elain merely moaned every time he did something that felt good and remained silent when he didn’t. It’s how Lucien learned she didn’t like the hard and fast flicks and didn’t like when he combined sensations all at once. She liked a steady pressure and the flat of his tongue stroking up and down the center of her while his fingers teased at her opening without actually penetrating. Her hips began to roll again, her moaning reaching a fever pitch. Lucien wanted to die, was so hard he couldn’t think straight. She was so hot, so wet and when Lucien pushed a finger into her gasping, sucking pussy, he was reminded that she was tight, too.

She came apart with a scream, writhing and grinding against his face until he pushed her back to the bed. It was enough to punish her, at any rate, though he rode her through it just because he liked the sight of her naked.

“What did I tell you about being greedy?” he gasped when she was done, catching her wide eyes filled with lust.

“Sorry–”

“Get up,” he ordered, stunned when she scrambled to her feet to obey. Her tits bounced as Elain stood at the edge of the mattress, her legs still trembling from her orgasm. Lucien reached for a pillow and dropped it at her feet so she’d have something soft to kneel against. 

“Take off my shorts,” he said. Her eyes sharpened, stepping towards him.

“Can…can I take off your shirt, too? Sir,” she amended quickly.

“Daddy,” he replied, gauging her reaction. 

“Daddy,” she breathed. “Please?”

“Yes,” he agreed, if only to be as naked as she was. Lucien was still struck dumb by the soft curve of her body, the flare of her hips and the pull of her waist. Her breasts were perfect, tilted upwards towards the sky and tipped with the rosiest nipples he’d ever seen. Elain was stunning, obviously gorgeous but every inch of her was somehow pretty. He didn’t know how to describe it any other way.

She was careful with his shirt, sliding up over his chest was careful fingers. Lucien swallowed a groan at this slow exploration, helping her get it over his head, given Elain was a good head and shoulders smaller than him. Petite was the right word, he supposed. 

Perfection.

She stared for a moment, hands at her sides. “Someday, I’ll let you lick,” he murmured, reaching for her wrists and putting them against the waistband for his shorts. “Something other than my cock, I mean.”

She gazed up through dark lashes. 

“Take them off and then get on your knees.”

Elain treated his shorts and briefs the same way she’d done with the shirt. Slowly removing, fingertips grazing his skin. Her eyes went wide when his cock sprang free, swollen and thick and practically weeping precum. Elain sank to her knees, letting him tug her ponytail from her hair and sweep the curls up in his fingers.

“Greedy girls suck cock just the way I like,” he told her. “And I like to bruise your throat. Do you understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” she whispered. He was going to come in five seconds, he just knew it. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he ordered. “Be my good girl and stick out your tongue.”

She did so immediately, allowing him to wipe the beaded moisture of his slit against the pillowy soft tongue hanging between her lips.

“Swallow.”

She did, never taking her eyes off him.

“Good girl. Open again.”

This time, Lucien pushed himself into her mouth, stopping when he heard her gag softly. She barely had a third of him. He’d have to train her but Lucien had the time and the inclination. He’d bring her to work with him, put her beneath his desk, and have her work him root to tip all day like it was her greatest purpose in life. 

Dragging himself out, Lucien managed one command. “Suck.”

She did, hollowing her cheeks, eyes never leaving his face.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

Elain didn’t say anything at all, though a flush of pleasure stole over her cheeks. She was a perfect submissive, he decided. Rough around the edges but eager to please and so utterly trainable.

Lucien practically vibrated with delight, holding her face steady to push himself into her. 

“Can you take more? Widen your jaw, baby,” he murmured, watching her gasp a quick breath of air before he pushed further, the crown of his aching cock hitting the spongy softness of her throat. 

“Use your hand,” he added when it was clear anymore would hurt her. He was holding himself back, easing her in, just as he’d promised.  “Perfect. You’re perfect, baby. Look at how pretty you are, sucking my cock.”

Tears slid from her eyes, dragging mascara with it. Next time he hoped she didn’t wear it, though he wiped it with his thumbs as he pumped in and out of her mouth. She timed her hand, using her saliva to lubricate his skin. 

“My good girl,” Lucien praised, every inch of him impossibly tight. He was clenching his ass to keep from coming though he couldn’t hold back much longer. “Are you going to swallow daddy’s come? Hm? Good girls swallow.”

She hummed her approval and Lucien groaned again.

“Good girl,” he said, increasing his hips until all he could hear was the wet sucking and gagging of her mouth. “Fuck, Elain—” he came with a rough, ugly grunt, pushing an inch further than he’d meant to. Hot ropes of come spurted from his cock directly into her throat and Elain, with on hand bracing his naked thigh, her eyes wide with surprise, took it all. 

He hauled her to her feet, game over for the moment. “Good job, Elain, you did so well, c’mere—” he kissed her, lavishing praise and soft touches over her skin. At some point he’d keep her as his submissive the entire time she was in his apartment but for now, Lucien let her slide back into herself, the part that sassed him back, at any rate. 

Lucien got her into the bed, pushing back the blankets and tossing her his shirt while he pulled on his shorts. The sight of her draped in his clothes made him achy all over again. 

Tugging her against his chest, Lucien stroked her hair.

“How was it?”

“A little weird,” she admitted. “But I liked it. I uh…it felt nice,” she said, nuzzling into his chest. 

“Good,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you, alright? You can always stop–”

“Should we pick a safe word?”

They should have at the fucking beginning. He’d gotten lucky she hadn’t needed it. “Yeah. What do you want? Something that doesn’t belong in the bedroom…so don’t choose stop.”

She frowned. “How about vodka?”

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “Works for me.”

“Isn’t cuddling outside of the bounds of fuck buddies?”

“Nah. First of all, we’re  between fuck buddies and dating. Like…friends with very specific benefits.  And afterwards, you should get used to being taken care of, especially if something is painful. It’s just good practice…and I’m not above a little cuddling, besides.”

“What are you above?”

Lucien shifted uncomfortably. “Vodka.”

“Are you safe wording this conversation?”

“Yes. I don’t want to discuss what might convince me into a relationship. I don’t want one.” His voice was too hard though he kept his touch light, sweet. “Trust I won’t change my mind.”

That settled her.

“Well…just for the record, friends with benefits implies some manner of friendship. You could be open without worrying I want to date you.”

But Lucien didn’t trust that. He wanted to believe her because Elain was earnest and nice and had done everything he asked. He’d been around too many women with ulterior motives, who wanted to be a Vanserra more than they wanted anything else.

He kissed her head.

“Let’s watch a movie baby,” he murmured. 

She curled closer. “Whatever you want.”

Lucien smiled. 

“Good girl.”

[chayscribbles]

chayscribbles’ monthly writing update ☆ november 2022

☆ STATISTICS.

words written: 9835 drafting; 17606 redrafting/editing

projects worked on: Andromeda Rogue, Andromeda Rising

proudest accomplishment: i published my first art zine! oh and finishing the first draft of AR3 is also a thing that happened

books read: Memoria by Kristyn Merbeth; Cinder by Marissa Meyer, A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

☆ GENERAL COMMENTS.

(book comments first: Memoria (the sequel to Fortuna, which i read a few weeks ago) was MUCH better imo than the first, 4.5 stars. Cinder was very enjoyable but i do feel like i am simply getting too old for YA and would have liked it better if i had read it a few years ago, 4 stars. A Memory certainly wasn't bad, but in the end it fell a bit flat for me, 3 stars.)

this month has been Very Weird. within the span of like 3 days a lot of things happened, including finishing AR3 and other Personal Stuff that resulted in me suddenly having a lot of free time on my hands that i did not know what to do with. but everything ended up working out! and a lot of that free time went to working on my wip.

i had thought that after finishing AR3 i'd work on one of my lower-effort sidewips, or work on other hobbies like drawing, but the motivation for those things just... didn't manifest itself? (also the Secret Space WIP, has become bigger than i thought it would, and i felt it would require more commitment than i am currently willing to give it)

anyways i just ended up going right back to AR kjdfgkjfds whoops

more specific wip-related comments + featured excerpt below.

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA RISING (finishing the draft)

did i really finish this draft this month? it feels like forever ago jkfdjk

so my unofficial NaNo goal was to finish AR3. i had originally estimated it would take 15k, and then adjusted it to 10k. i didn't quite make the 10k either but i DID finish the draft, so that's still a win. to me.

this draft turned out way shorter than i had hoped... and there's a LOT that needs to be fixed, and i'm not completely satisfied with how it turned out. but i really was at the point where i had to just get through it to call it done otherwise i never would, so thank fuck that's over with.

(trying not to think about how much needs to be fixed yet. gritting my teeth.)

☆ COMMENTS: ANDROMEDA ROGUE (draft... 2!!!!)

so i had this whole plan of letting the entire series rest, then rereading, reoutlining, reworking some plot, character and worldbuilding stuff, and only starting draft 2 in 2023... and then i got impatient lmao.

i was somewhere in the reoutlining stage about a week after finishing AR3 when i realized it felt like i was wasting my time. not much of the main structure of this book is gonna change, so i was pretty much just rewriting the exact same outline i already had. (i plantsed through draft 1 but made a reverse outline as i was writing.) most of the changes are adding or changing certain details to scenes and no amount of planning was gonna help any more than just writing out the changes. so, on the 18th, i started draft 2.

(besides, it's not like i didn't let AR1 rest. i finished it in june 2021 after all.)

i also had a bunch of editing notes from when i was drafting, + stuff i thought about later while writing the sequels on how to better set things up, + notes taken during my reread. so i ended up just annotating the hell out of my first draft to show where i would add or change things, and then i put the old draft on one side of the screen and a new doc on the other side and started rewriting it to include the changes.

i've gone through about 5 chapters and added an epilogue so far! it's going pretty fast haha. i've already added over 2000 words just by fleshing things out a bit more, now that i know my characters and the world much better than when i started. it's SO much easier now that i have the entire series in front of me.

chapter 5 is where i've been slowed down as there is a considerable amount of stuff that needed to be rewritten completely-- it's quite exposition-heavy (it's the scene where Petra gets a rundown of her xenobotany mission), and when i first wrote it, i wasn't exactly sure where i was going with the story. and even though i now have a fuller picture in front of me, it's always hard to write an exposition-heavy chapter and include everything that needs to be said without making it drag. not to mention, foreshadowing and setting things up appropriately.

right now, i'm taking a quick break from redrafting to iron out some of the political backdrop of the story. not only did i need to rest after wrestling with chapter 5, but i was disappointed reading A Memory Called Empire, which was supposed to be a political intrigue, and it was one heck of a motivator to try to make the politics in my book better haha.

☆ FEATURED EXCERPT.

very short passage i added to AR1 to further demonstrate how much of a nerd Petra really is.

“Petra,” Dr. Derosy said, “you did your thesis on vitaplants. Would you mind giving us a brief definition?” Petra coughed and sat up straighter in her chair. “Vitaplants are a category of plants that boost the growth and health of other living organisms around them, specifically through the emission of vitawaves," she said. "Vitaplants have been found to have evolved independently on multiple planets around the sector and are not confined to a single genus, which has confounded taxonomists—"

“Thank you, Petra. I did say brief.”

☆ TAGLISTS. let me know if you want to be added/removed to either.

general taglist:

@nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @stormharbors @quilloftheclouds @ashen-crest @writeblrfantasy @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @extra-magichours @avi-why @lefttigerobservation @chazzawrites @bardolatrycore

andromeda trilogy taglist:

@bebewrites @nicola-writes @dgwriteblr @the-orangeauthor @stormharbors @akindofmagictoo @quilloftheclouds @nora-theteawriter @ashen-crest @corpsepng @writeblrfantasy @toboldlywrite @celestepens @stardustspiral @pepperdee @cheerfulmelancholies @extra-magichours @writeouswriter @cilly-the-writer @lefttigerobservation @rose-bookblood @drowsy-quill @chazzawrites @cynic-and-chief @enchanted-lightning-aes @aesa

[sanrielle]

Happy @tokkaweek everyone!!! I went against the grain a little and instead of writing seven one-shots (seriously, I can't write one-shots XDD), I wrote one fic with seven chapters. Hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Rating: Teen

Finished word count: Idk maybe like 15k?? XD (I'm not quite finished)

Genres: Drama, Romance, Humor, Wee Bit of Angst

Summary: Months after the sad news of Chief Arnook’s passing, the Gaang receives an invitation to the Northern Water Tribe capital of Agna Q’ela to celebrate the induction of his successor. During their much-needed vacation, Toph and Sokka both discover things about themselves and each other. Old feelings will resurface while new ones will bloom from a seed planted many years ago.

Sneak Peek:

“Wow,” Sokka said from the airship’s observation deck. The glittering city of Agna Q’ela in the frozen northern tundra dominated the view now. They were almost there. “I’d forgotten how beautiful this place is.”

Toph responded with a stubborn grunt. She had her arms crossed inside her bulky parka, empty sleeves dangling. For some reason, she refused to wear gloves and had already taken to cocooning herself within the thick garment instead. “If you say so.”

For about the ten millionth time since they’d met each other twenty-five years ago, Sokka winced upon becoming aware of his thoughtless comment. 

“The sun is kissing the horizon, but only for a little while,” he said by way of explanation. Over the years, he’d learned how to create descriptions she could feel rather than see. “Then it’ll drift away until this time tomorrow. For all seven days of our trip, it’ll never fully set. And in this dusky half-light, the ice seems to glow from within—a burnished gold, like…” He searched for tactile comparison. “Like a steaming cup of ginger tea that’s just the perfect drinking temperature.”

A glance at Toph’s blank expression told him she was unmoved by his valiant effort. 

“And how is that different from summer in the south pole?” she asked.

“It has its own beauty—similar, but different, too.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.”

Sokka sighed with annoyance. Spirits, I’m gonna have to work a lot harder to put her in a good mood, aren’t I? 

[shares-a-vest]

for the ask game: 3, 8, & 9 🥰

Wynn!!! 💖

Link to Steddie Ask game

3. Favorite three Steddie fanfics?

Oh boy, do I have brainrot over this question. Too. Much. Fanfiction. Also, I'm sooooo bad at keeping up with fics that are in progress or committing to anything over like 15K words (my brain won't focus).

Date me instead by Zhuletta: It combines faking-dating with too-dumb-to-realise-they-are-dating. I was in such a chokehold waiting for each new chapter and I was actively unwell waiting for the final chapter.

alone again, or by 96tears: Steve and Eddie still live in Hawkins a few years later and spend all their time together. Reads like an indie movie. Sooooooo well written.

You've Begun To Feel Like Home by nobetterlove: 5 (+1) of Steve and Eddie getting fake married then for real. I shouted on here about it when I read it. Weddings just get me, man. (This also contradicts my thoughts about Question 9 but idk lmao)

8. Favorite Steddie Headcanon you’ve read or written?

I answered this on my first ask:

How do I narrow this down??? I am obsessed with anything/everything that explores their physical trauma (this is absolutely personal stuff factoring in with this one for me). This is something I wrote about Steve's neck scars. The show doesn't explore it and probably won't so we have to do it. HoH Steve is canon to me at this point (which people write so well).

I'll also add my current love of Steddie as parents to a daughter. I wrote a little thing the other day about it that I'm expanding into a fic (who knows if I'll finish it lol).

9. Do you imagine they would have been childhood friends?

Honestly, no. I think Steve's parents (yes all aboard the Harrington parents hate train) really curated who he hung out with as a kid which eventually morphed into the high school King Steve era. I think of Eddie as a loner as a kid. Maybe having a friend or two in other kids that were outcasts so they hung out perhaps more out of circumstance.

Like Steve, I think Eddie's parents had an effect on his social life as a kid - but more so other people passing judgement on the Munsons (Eddie parents). But he starts to make actual friends when he begins living with Wayne because Wayne actually takes him to age-appropriate gatherings/activities and explains to the other parents their circumstances plainly and that cuts through the judgement a bit.

[hairstevington]

There’s No Place Like Home (Part 11)

Eddie Munson x Reader (first kiss!)

Summary: After Eddie makes you a mixtape, it’s impossible for you both not to act on your feelings.

Authors note: hi guyssss I’ve promoted this fic before but this chapter they FINALLY KISS after 15K words and I thought some might enjoy it as a stand-alone. Anyone who wants to read the full fic can find the first chapter here on Tumblr or the full fic here on Ao3

“Can we listen to it now?” you request once you break from the hug.

“Yeah, if you want.” You hand him the cassette back, and he walks over to his desk again to place the tape into his player. The familiar opening riff of Paranoid fills the room. You close your eyes and smile, swaying to the beat absentmindedly.

You catch Eddie watching you when you open your eyes again, his arms folded across his chest, leaning back against the desk. You freeze, blushing.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks you, a look of admiration in his eyes.

“Because you’re looking at me!” you respond. He shakes his head, then smacks his palms over both of his eyes and keeps them there.

“Better?”

“Much,” you say, laughing. You look around the room again, examining the different icons and words on the wall. You try to make a mental note of some of them so you can look them up later. There’s what you assume is marijuana on the table next to his bed, but it looks different than you expected. You’d only ever seen it in a joint, not in a jar. When you look back at Eddie, he’s still in the same pose. “You don’t actually have to do that.”

“Oh, thank god,” he says, bringing his hands back down to his sides and blinking a few times, his eyes readjusting to the light. “Seemed a lot funnier in my head.”

“No, it was great! Very much appreciated,” you tell him, sincerely.

You both let the song play over the silence between you, until it clicks to the next one. It’s slower, more stripped down.

“What’s this one?” you ask.

“It’s called Dear God. It’s pretty new,” he answers. You listen to the lyrics.

“It’s sad.”

“I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I mean Paranoid is sad too. I think the best music is,” you tell him. You’d always connected most to the songs that were honest and vulnerable.

Hearing somebody’s favorite music is way more personal than asking somebody what they listen to, you’ve found. It’s intimate in a way, knowing you’re listening to something that obviously means a lot to them. You just want to focus and take it all in.

“Do you want to sit?” he suggests, looking around his room. There’s really only 2 options - bed and floor - so you drop to the floor. He laughs, seating himself on the floor across from you, his back against his bed. You continue listening until the song ends.

“I really like that song,” you tell him.

“I hoped you would.” He smiles. The next song starts playing, and you recognize it immediately.

“Hey, I know this one!” you let him know. “Van Halen, right?”

“Wow, have you been studying?” he asks, impressed.

“Just a little bit,” you admit. “Why’d you put this one on here?” You ask as if you don’t already know the answer. It’s a song about a girl driving someone crazy, the intent is not lost on you.

“Uh, well, I, uh-“

“Eddie I’m totally kidding. And flattered,” you assure him.

“Oh, right,” he realizes. “I tried to keep the songs on here pretty tame, but it wasn’t easy. I never realized how dirty some of this music is until I had to pick some to show a girl I like, you know?” He jokes, and you laugh, hoping the blush spreading across your cheeks isn’t noticeable. You abruptly stand up and start pacing the room.

“‘A girl you like,” you echo. Eddie looks up at you, confused.

“Yeah?” You continue pacing.

“Sorry. Suddenly feeling very nervous.” Eddie stands, concerned.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, seriously. I’m nervous, too,” he admits.

“Really? Why?” you ask, then elaborate. “I mean, what are you nervous for?” He takes a moment to figure out what to say before he answers.

“Uh, let’s see. I have this smoking hot girl in my bedroom, listening to music I chose for her, and she’s amazing and sweet and funny and I can’t stop worrying I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“Oh,” you respond, processing.

“Yeah. What are you nervous for?” he wonders. You take a deep breath.

“I’m nervous because I want to kiss you, badly, and I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I’m worried I’m not good at it,” you admit. He looks at you, unsure how to respond. “It’s just that the longer we wait, the more nervous I’m going to be, because I’m going to build it up in my head, so just…Can you kiss me?” His eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he says, stunned. It’s like he still can’t believe you asked, even after everything.

There’s nothing standing in your way now. He knows it, you know it, It’s happening. It’s really happening.

You heart beats faster at the realization, the butterflies rising to your throat. You each take a step closer until you’re within arms reach. His hand reaches up towards you, his rings glistening when they catch the light. He gently moves a strand of hair off your face and behind your ear, and you try not to completely melt at his touch. He continues, sliding his fingers along your neck and under your hair, until they lock into place at the base of your skull. Your breaths become shallow, your heart racing.

“You sure about this, Princess?” he asks, looking you deep in the eyes.

“Yes. You?” His glance lowers to your lips, and he nods, so subtle that only you would be able to see it.

You lean forward and connect your lips to his, pressing softly. He pushes back against you, readjusting, clinging to you just a little bit more. It’s a weird feeling. His lips are soft and warm, but there’s a hesitation on his end, and you don’t really know what you’re doing. Still, it’s your first kiss. It’s nice.

You pull away, smiling at the fact you can no longer say you’ve never done that.

“Hey, we did it,” you say, quietly. He doesn’t respond. “You okay?” You start to worry that maybe the spell was broken, maybe now that it’s happened, he doesn’t want it anymore. Maybe -

“Can we do that again?” he asks, silencing your thought spiral. He looks at you as if he could devour you whole. This time, you nod, and your consent is the last thing he needs to take the plunge.

With his other arm he finds the small of your waist, wraps around it, pulls you in closer. Your body presses against his now, your thighs on his thighs, your stomach on his stomach. He drives your head forward, urging your lips to meet his. He’s kissing you, much deeper than before. Your eyes close and your mind goes blank.

Hands. Arms. Lips. Hair. His thumbs rub back and forth against your back and neck. It feels like every nerve in your body is on fire.

He digs his fingers into your hair and pulls, causing you to lose any restraint you have. You’re both desperate, as if touching isn’t close enough.

You move your hands up and over his shoulders, around his neck. He stifles a moan as you grip his hair the way he gripped yours. Your lips dance around each other as he kisses your top lip, then your bottom, then your top again.

You want him. You want him so clearly, and yet it’s not a want you’ve ever felt before. It’s a want that up until this point never really existed for you. You break away, gasping for air.

“Wait,” you say, catching your breath.

“You okay?” he asks you, panting.

“Yeah, I just, um. Yeah. That was…that was intense,” you explain.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

Your forehead presses to his, and you both close your eyes and breathe together until you’re able to assemble a coherent thought. Your hands drop from each other’s necks, sloping down to meet at your sides and interlock with one another. You smile.

“You’re amazing,” you tell him.

“Ughhh, I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He smirks, gently pressing his lips to yours briefly. He kisses your nose, then both cheeks, then your forehead, and exhales. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Uh-huh,” you agree.

“I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“Me, too.”

“Hey, Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re amazing, too.”

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