#the suspicious red liquid is supposed to be wine

[flutt3rb4tz]

bwaah i had fun drawing this one im ngl. i love drawing men(?) in dresses and also fit men i love it its sooo fun. and shines.. heheh shiny

anyway character is named valentine (he/any)

[batrachised]

Adventures in Maud's Recipes

Tomato Jelly Salad

The Recipe

It's been a while since I've picked up LMM's cookbook, after the successes of the New Moon Pie, the cornbread, and the potato soup! I experienced hit after hit - New Moon pie was light and delectable, the cornbread a taste of Eden, and the potato soup apparently academy award worthy. Why at this point, I thought to myself, I should trust Maud's judgement implicitly when it comes to the dinner table. But then I pondered: I'd only tried the recipes that are difficult to get wrong. What if I tried one of the more out there recipes? Cornbread is one thing; raisin pie another. I considered my options. There was dandelion wine, but that required wild dandelions and I didn't feel like curling up with a book and a glass of pesticide; salmon jello molds (yes, really) but that was too much for me (there are some paths even I dare not tread for the sake of lm montgomery); or, I found, there was the aforementioned tomato jelly salad. This salad involves tomato juice, vinegar, onion, sugar (hold on, now we get crazy) which you combine with gelatine to make a jello (keep holding on) and then while the molds are forming, you add a vegetable such as peas or cabbage. For the crunch, I suppose. After all, everyone wants their jello to be crunchy. For obvious reasons, I hesitated. While I do not hate jello, I am suspicious of jello combined with tomatos and peas. In fact, it took me months to build up the emotional resilience to try. Yet, try, I have, and you shall hear of it.

The Results

After a rather disastrous mold experience (I made the mistake of pouring into a floppy dish instead of a metal one, thus meaning any movement of the dish resulted in tomato jello liquid everywhere), we landed on this:

Do you see the peas? Waiting, in the jello like little minnows? What's not to like about this presentation? I love all of my meals to look like bloodsoaked peas. I go for "Veggie Tales mass murder" when it comes to meal presentation, personally.

After bravely moving past the Veggie Tales crime scene, I popped a piece out onto a plate. Here's what it looked like out of the mold (featuring wizard hat roommate's banana chips in the background, my food photography skills are truly impeccable):

That looks vaguely pretty, if it weren't for the peas. One last photo - much like a crime scene, I feel obligated to provide photos from multiple angles. The mold is definitely molding. I suppose you could argue this is vaguely Christmas themed due to the red and green.

The Review

You're supposed to eat this wrapped in a lettuce leaf, but I detest lettuce leaves in that form and refused to do so. I would take this pure, raw, unfiltered by any form. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on watching as I took the first bite. Tremulously, I took up the fork. Would it taste all right? Would the texture be too much? Would Lucy Maud deliver? I paused, then boldly took a bite.

I want you to imagine the flavor of ketchup. Then I want you to imagine this flavor transmitted via the medium of jello. Then on top of that, as the cherry on this veggie tales sundae, I want you to imagine this ketchup has peas in it. Needless to say: I did not enjoy it. It tasted wrong...disordered...as if the earth itself shuddered as I bit into it. Is this how Frankenstein felt, feeling his creation lurking in every corner of the world? Haunted by the work of his own two hands?

Okay, in all honesty: it wasn't that bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad. The taste was okay - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The texture was weird - I didn't like it but it wasn't disgusting. The two combined admittedly pushed it, but it only toed the line of being gag worthy.

It didn't help that the color of the jello meant my subconscious kept expecting a sweet cherry flavor, only for my mouth to meet vinegary tomato and peas. Ketchup jello with peas on top is not for me personally, though I won't speak for anyone else. Wizard Hat Roommate insisted on trying one, and actually finished hers. She described it as something she'd never make, but she could eat. We shall see if Clifford Roommate has the same opinion.

So, what would I rate this? Well, if a zero is a mouse in a pudding sauce, and a ten is Susan's monkey paws, I rate it Aunt Martha's ditto served cold and topped with peas.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Too Much Alcohol (Scarecrow x Reader)

Showing up to a meeting place for a business deal without the Riddler wasn't ideal. Showing up to a meeting without the Riddler when the meeting is with the Scarecrow was a whole other issue.

"I would get comfortable, Edward is hardly ever on time. Only when he thinks it important enough." Jonathan sighed. "Come and have a drink with me." He beckoned you with his finger. You hesitated. "Why?" You asked suspiciously. "Well, because Edward won't be here for a while and you're going to pace a track into the floor doing absolutely nothing." He lifted the bottle on the table. "The brandy will take the edge off." He smiled wryly. It was a fair argument.

Reluctantly you moved towards the couch, sitting on the edge of it, leaning against the side. "You said brandy?" You asked after Jonathan, slid another glass towards you and filled it as well as refilling his own. "Yes and there is red wine over there." He nodded to the pool table. "Why alcohol for a meeting?" You asked. "Do I need a reason?" He countered. You grimaced, once again backed into a corner socially. "I suppose not. You're the Master of Fear and one of the most notorious criminals in Gotham, I guess you don't need a reason to do anything." You uttered quickly. "That's what I thought." Jonathan looked at his glass before taking a sip. He noticed how you were on the brink of falling. "(Y/N), you can scoot over." Jonathan said flatly. "I'm good." You replied quickly. "I'm not going to gas you again." Jonathan said. How could you forget the time Jonathan gassed you and a few other henchmen for the fun of it? "Are you sure?" You asked. "Yes." He replied. You paused. "Clearly you don't know what the Riddler had me put in your hideout." You mumbled. "What was that?" He asked. "Nothing!" You spoke with wide eyes.

You hesitantly met his piercing gaze. Jonathan seemed almost amused by your squirming. Silently he slapped the space beside him, silently inviting you closer. As much as you were uneasy to think what he'd do if you did move, you were just as wary of what he'd do if you refused him twice. You inched closer and Jonathan's arms shot out, grabbing you and pulling you onto the couch properly and sitting beside him, thighs almost touching. He scoffed with a chuckle as he shook his head. You stared at the two glasses. "You gonna drink that?" You nodded to his glass. "Or that?" You nodded to your own. "It...seems kinda planned that you just conveniently have two glass-" "What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?" Jonathan smirked. "I don't know what I'm trying to say, sir. I'm just saying everything I think and I can't help make myself stop." You replied quickly. "Do I make you that nervous?" He asked lightly with a small grin. "I don't think I should answer that." You pressed your lips into a tight line.

You went back to staring at your glass. Your fingers twitched as though about to take it and changing your mind. Jonathan exhaled, putting an arm around your shoulders. "You watched me pour it. You know I haven't done anything to it. It's just anxiety holding you back. I've already told you I'm not going to do anything and you know I wouldn't bother lying to you if I was planning it. Now drink it." He said lowly. "Is that an order sir?" You asked. "It might be." He replied. You took a deep breath before taking the glass and bringing it to your lips. The second the liquid was in your mouth you scrunched your face up using everything in your power to swallow. "That burns!" "You don't drink much do you?" Jonathan sounded amused but looked completely unphased. You shook your head.

Once you had collected yourself, you were back to the stare down with your glass. "So do you want me to drink...all of it? Or can I watch you drink yours and then you drink mine too?" You asked. "Actually I think I'd like to see you finish yours." A mischevious twinkle hit Jonathan's eyes. You sighed. "I really don't like it." You grimaced. "Does it look like I care?" Jonathan countered. "That's a trick question. You don't really emote like a regular human. You just kind of have a...blank expression at all times." Jonathan didn't reply, instead bringing the class and tilting his head back until the glass was empty in one. He brought the glass back down to the table, licking his lips.You raised your glass and offered it to him. "Thirsty?" You asked. "Nice try." He smirked quietly. "Why do you hate me?" You grimaced. "I don't." He replied flatly. "I'm pretty sure you do." You countered.

Once you finished that first glass, Jonathan offered you the wine. Surprisingly the wine was even easier to drink than you remembered. Although when you went through it all, it would be no surprise to anyone that Jonathan was no lightweight. You on the other hand...most definitely were.

Almost two hours passed and you had somehow ended up lying across Scarecrow's lap, rambling about absolutely anything and nothing worthwhile. Yet he appeared to either tune you out or be content regardless as his long fingers traced the skin on your forehead and around your jaw. "(Y/N), you're a little bit of an idiot. Has anyone ever told you that?" He asked lightly. "An idiot who's gonna take down, Batman!" You added and kicked your leg upwards. "I'm sure." He didn't sound convinced and more like he was trying to appease a child. You began to slowly roll off his lap and he quickly pulled you back into him. "Where are you going?" "To take down Batman, silly!" You declared. "Not right now!" He sighed. "Yes now, why not now?" You asked. As you struggled against him you ended up leaning on him, your back on his chest and he held you to him. With one hand he began to play with your hair, making you relax. "Oh, that's nice." You mumbled, relaxing against him and he smiled in amusement. "Anyway, as I was saying..." You began. "(Y/N)..." "The Riddler's last name is so we-" "(Y/N)..." Jonathan said louder. "...shut up-" his voice lowered when he had your attention. "-and kiss me." You looked up at him with a look of confusion. "That's a really weird expression." You said. "It's not an expression." He shook his head with a smile. "What? You really want me to-mmph!" Jonathan broke the space between you, connecting you both in a long kiss. When he pulled back, you blinked a couple of times. You nodded, as though accepting your fate. "Yeah, okay. Does this mean you love me? Like I get to say I made the Master of Fear fall for me and want me to marry him and have babies and all that?" Jonathan quirked an eyebrow in response. "Don't make me take this back, (Y/N)." He said flatly. "Okay." Your shoulders sank. "This can be an abusive relationship between us." He warned you. "It already is, sir. You gassed me for fun." You pouted. He rolled his eyes. "Can I ask you a question before this goes further?" You asked. He hummed, surprised but waited for you to continue. "What's your diagnosis? Like you're super smart and I bet its super awkward to be diagnosed by colleagues. The Riddler tells us all the time about how Arkham misdiagnosed him." "I don't think you'd like my diagnosis very much." He smirked faintly. "I just wonder because you're both super smart but nothing alike...so what did they diagnose you with?" "Sociopathy." Jonathan's smirk grew as your eyes widened.

You did not remember falling asleep yet you woke up on the floor. You groaned. "Oh my head." You noticed the couch beside you and saw an old worn decorative cushion. You tugged it down and cuddled into it. Your groan made Jonathan stir. He turned his head to see your back and smiled slightly. His fingers reached out as he shuffled closer. That was when he saw it. You were clutching a cushion tightly to your face. He pieced together what had happened and blanched. Did you seriously look for something to cuddle when he's right there!? Maybe it was the alcohol plaguing his mind even now but he couldn't deny it to himself. Jonathan, in that exact moment, was jealous of a cushion. He did not get this lucky just to be trumped by a cushion. "(Y/N)..." Jonathan sat up. You mumbled incoherently. "(Y/N)!" He snapped and you shook yourself awake in a panic. Your arm swung and he caught it before you could hit his ear. Your eyes were wide in horror, prepared to meet your doom when- "What are you sleeping with?" He asked blankly. Unexpected question. "Nothing." You murmured. "Clearly not nothing!" He ripped the pillow out of your grasp. "No! Jonathan!" You whined pathetically as he tossed it away. "You have me right here!Why do you need a cushion!?" Jonathan huffed before moving to lay back down. "Because it's nice." You whined again. He paused, leaning on his elbows as he stared into your soul. "Am I not nice?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow sternly. You shook your head. "No...you're actually quite mean." You assured him. "Can't one of us be happy?" "I can be happy." Jonathan fired back, defensive in tone. You shook your head again. "No...no." You didn't even look remotely convinced and didn't even bother trying to pretend. "I'm right here! Why would you need a pillow!?" He huffed. "You think I don't know what you could do to me if I even lean the wrong way?" You countered. "We're together." Jonathan deadpanned. "No, we're not." You replied. "Think back to last night." You did and that's when the memory hit you like a train.

The drinking, the kissing!? Why was there kissing!? You recalled later that night literally calling him your boyfriend and- "Oh no!" You exclaimed, disrupting any and all thoughts either of you could have. You stared Jonathan down in horror. "Riddler!" You screeched before moving to roll away. Jonathan pulled you back to him with an amused smirk and a shake of his head. "The Riddler's going to kill me." You whined, almost coming across as a tear less sob. Meanwhile Jonathan wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "He's gonna kill you and then he's gonna kill me!" "Pull yourself together, (Y/N)." Jonathan sighed. "No, you don't understand. The Riddler is really possessive of his employees which includes associating with outsiders-" "He's not the only one." Jonathan said calmly, his eyes running up and down your body. Suddenly he smiled widely. "We should speak to him now." He pulled back and got up. You panicked. "Um, can we not?" Jonathan left little room for complaint as, with or without you, he walked off to find Edward. "J-Jon-Jon-Jona-Jonathan?" He didn't answer you, leaving you very frightened for the near future.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Can we get the skeletons getting kissed by their crush when the fireworks go off for New Years?

Undertale Sans - You took him by surprise. Everyone was screaming and when it reaches midnight, you grabbed his head and kissed him, in front of all his family and friends. Now everyone at Grillby's is congratulating him as he is trying to hide into his hoodie, so embarrassed. Everyone will tease him for weeks after that. Though, he doesn't regret anything.

Undertale Papyrus - Ok, maybe you both drank too much. It was an accidental kiss, you couldn't find each other cheeks and aimed right at the mouth. Papyrus is blushing so hard and already apologizing, but then you hold him back and kiss him again. When you finally release him, Papyrus becomes liquid in your arms and then you turn your head and you can see Sans, sitting all alone at the bar, staring at you while drinking his ketchup suspiciously.

Underswap Sans - When you kiss him because of the festive spirit, he stops in shock for once second, then let go "THANK GOD I THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEVER NOTICE I WANTED TO KISS YOU" before grabbing you aggresively for more. Blue is so happy, that new year is going to be great.

Underswap Papyrus - The second you release him, he faints lol. Warn the boy before doing something like that. Honey was not ready, he didn't think he would have to deal with his feeling on a night like this and now he is regretting he didn't plan anything. When he wakes up, everyone is worry about him while you're trying to explain to a pissed off Blue that you were just trying to be nice and not kill him.

Underfell Sans - He was planning to do the same thing. You both bonks your heads because you wanted to get it done fast. Now you are both whining on the ground, holding your head/skull. What a great way to start the year.

Underfell Papyrus - You asked him to crouch so you can tell him something, then you gently kiss him. When you retreat, Edge's face is entirely red and he is desperatly trying to stay neutral, reminding you with a strange high pitched voice that you forgot to talk. You kiss him again to make him shut up. It's very effective.

Horrortale Sans - Everyone hates you. You kiss Oak a few seconds before midnight, as he was looking into space, tired. Then he let go the loudest purr you had ever heard him do. It's so loud it ruined the countdown for everyone else around you. You doesn't care, though. Oak already locked you into his hoodie and he is confessing right here right now because why the hell not.

Horrortale Papyrus - He was confused about why you were insisting so hard to jump on the table despite the fact it's clearly rude. But then his words died as your face got closer from his. "... UH, Y/N???" Then the countdown starts, and you jump at his head to kiss him. Willow falls of his chair, with you on top of him, still kissing him on the ground, as the poor guy is in desperate need of air. That's way too much for him and he starts crying. You are worry you hurt him in the fall, but then he giggles nervously. You broke Willow. He has no idea if he supposed to cry or laugh. He's still hugging you close though.

Swapfell Sans - He's way too far gone into alcohol to fully notice what's happening. You're kissing him and he kisses back, giggling, and then he said that you smelled funny because you farted. Rus apologized for him and dragged him out of the room, begging you to not running away because of how stupid Nox can get with wine. Rus will gently ask you to try that again once he is sober. He wants to get rid of his brother to have his room because it's bigger is very supportive ! You should totally marry him as soon as possible.

Swapfell Papyrus - Rus wanted to do the same thing, but there is a problem. Because Nox put a wig tonight after three glass of wine, and Rus is drunk and he is not sure who is his S/O and who is his brother anymore. Thank god, you stop him just before he jumps on his brother, because you wanted to kiss him too. Rus is so relieved and confess happily. Though, some time later, he hugs you like a teddy bear after a dance but it was actually his brother, passed out in his arms. You took a photo just at the moment Rus realised his mistake. It's a pretty hilarious picture where Rus is literally yeeting his brother in panic out of the photo. You put him on the fridge. Nox is really not happy about it once he is sober enough to see it.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (7/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison

Chapter Summary: Girls night - and Spencer and you accidentally meet each other the day after.

Warnings: a little bit of angst, and fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm sorry it took me song long, but I was really busy. I hope you like it! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

"Will you please pass me the can of glitter?", Penelope asks. Everyone gives her confused looks, except you. Your gaze is fixed on the pictures in front of you.

"What do you need glitter for?", JJ asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"This is supposed to be a vision board", she grins, grabbing the reddish can Emily holds out to her. She twists off the cap and sprinkles a little glitter on her hand before letting it trickle onto the glue-covered cardboard. "In my vision, my future is full of glitter. With the cruel things we have to see every day, everything should be full of glitter."

Emily has to grin, but raises her wine glass. The others do the same. "Here's to a future full of glitter." As the others toast and glasses clink together, you silently slide the pictures back and forth on your drab piece of cardboard.

It's been Penelope's idea for you girls to get together on a Saturday night to create vision boards together. It's been a week since Spencer and you spoke, and Penelope couldn't take your suffering anymore. She had tried so many times to cheer you up, but nothing had worked. Your heart was broken, your world was shattered, but Penelope can't take it. Ridiculous.

At first you were against it. In the last days you were just vegging out, your emotions as if erased, repressed and burned out. If you allowed your true feelings, you would break. You got up, went to work and went to bed at night. You weren't capable of doing more than that, because even every breath was far too exhausting.

And then, all of a sudden, the girls had shown up at your door. Their bags were filled with craft supplies, sleeping stuff, and alcohol. Penelope, not knowing what had even happened, had rounded everyone up and decided you needed cheering up. You wanted to slam the door in her face, but there was so much pain in her gaze and only then did you realize that you weren't the only one to suffer. Your friends were suffering with you and their visit was a kind attempt to get you back on track. And it started with them forcing you to shower and put on a sweater that didn't have a coffee stain on it.

"Y/N?", Tara addresses you and it takes a moment for your eyes to focus back on the piece of cardboard in front of you and you realize that you haven't put a single picture, saying, anything on it yet, while everyone else's hands are covered in glue. In your friends' faces you see confusion and pity. You look away. "You haven't picked out anything for your vision board yet."

Because I don't know what my future will look like without Spencer by my side, you reply in your mind. You don't want to pretend you can imagine a future without him when he's been a big part of it for years. And most of all, you don't want to admit it.

"What do you think of this one?", JJ asks, pushing toward you the snippet she's cut out of one of the countless magazines Penelope has brought. The words are written in thick letters. "Trust the timing of your life." Funny.

"Do you want to tell us what happened?", Penelope asks quietly, sipping her cocktail. There's already red glitter on the glass. "We can see how bad you are."

She only means well and she's also a good friend and actually you want to tell, but then it would come true. As long as you keep your conversation to yourself, you can pretend it didn't happen. You could go on as before and hope that everything will work out. But it wouldn't be the truth.

The truth is that Spencer and you would never get back together.

As you begin to tell it, all the dams break. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and you have to gasp in between as the words get stuck in your throat. No one interrupts you, they just stare at you, amazed that you are actually talking. And you don't leave out a single detail. You tell them that you were standing outside his room at night and he slammed the door in your face.That he wanted you off the team and insulted the crap out of you at Rossi's party, only to cuddle with you on JJ's couch afterwards and then call it a mistake. You tell them about the angry kiss, about your fights and reconciliations, and finally you tell them about your last night together and your conversation.

When you're done, you reach for your glass, which you haven't touched yet, and drink the wine down to the last drop.Only when the glass is empty and you put it down do you look at the others again.  Uncertainly, you look around and recognize an infinite number of questions in their faces, which they don't ask - to be honest, you wouldn't have the answers either - and mixed feelings, which you can't interpret despite your good profiling skills. But there's one thing you can recognize in every look you meet: pain. And even though they look at you with a lot of pity, you don't regret telling them about it.

If you break from it, you know the girls will put you back together.

"That's ... a lot”, Tara says first, taking a sip of her cocktail. You nod mutely.

"We always hoped you'd find each other after all”, Penelope confesses, twisting the glitter jar shut.Apparently, she's lost the desire to put more on her cardboard.

"Even though you left Spencer, we always thought it was for a reason other than you didn't love him anymore. You were the perfect couple and we just couldn't imagine it." Up until this point, JJ had been suspiciously quiet. She looks up from her cardboard. "And now you're back, and the way you're suffering right now, we can imagine it even less. So why would you say that to him? If it's not true after all?"

"That's enough, guys. We should change the subject”, Emily interjects pouring wine into your empty glass. You're infinitely grateful to her. Talking has drained you, and just thinking about Spencer hurts. Talking about it doesn't exactly make it easier to deal with it all, but the weight on your shoulders doesn't feel quite so crushing anymore.

"You still love him, don't you?" Penelope sounds hopeful. And you don't want to take away her hope, and especially you don't want to lie to your friends, but it has to be done. You promised, even swore, that the deal would stay secret, and it was already too dangerous to have told Emily then. You wouldn't risk your friends' lives.

"No, Penelope." The glimmer of hope in her eyes goes out. It's a feeling you know all too well.

"I don't want to get too close to you, Y/N”, Tara begins. "But then why do you feel so bad? If you didn't love him anymore, then you wouldn't be so heartbroken, would you?"

And you don't have an answer to that anymore.

The topic is over and will not be brought up again. At the end of the evening, your cardboard is still empty, but you feel a little better and you mentally make a note to yourself that you owe them. When the girls say goodbye the next morning after breakfast - Penelope hugs you a little longer than the others - you head out as well. Thanks to your friends, you've realized that there's nothing you can do about the situation, that you're going to have to deal with it - and definitely not alone - and that sitting lonely in your apartment waiting for a miracle to happen is not an option.

The warm sun on your skin feels good, like a hug, and you reach out to it as you walk to your favorite bookstore. There are many people out and about, walking or shopping. Countless people are sitting in the small cafes, eating and drinking and talking. You've only been back in D.C. for a few weeks and it feels like you've never been away.

Over the past year, you've been on the road a lot, not only in the States but also in Europe. In addition to work that has sent you nearly halfway around the world, you've sat in the Hamburg State Opera, eaten in the cute cafes in Bucharest, and admired the medieval old town in Lund, Sweden. You've seen and experienced so much, met new people, but nothing resembles home. And not being able to be here for a year had been incredibly difficult.

As you enter your favorite bookstore, the smell of old books rises to your nose and goosebumps spread across your warmed skin. How much you missed it. You may have been to other bookstores, but you know this one like the back of your hand. How you've missed this. You walk down the aisles, running your fingers over the various spines before stopping at a book. The cover is a faded red and somewhat damaged, with white writing that makes you want to pull it off the shelf and open it.

You are so engrossed that you don't notice how someone comes up to you and stops next to you.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair," the person begins to quote and you wince, but don't turn around. "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt fort he liquid measure of your steps."

You have to swallow, put a finger between the pages to find the poem again before closing the book and turning around. "Hi."

Spencer smiles at you. "I didn't think I'd run into you here."

You pucker your lips into a thin line. "Yeah, um, I haven't been here since I got back. Wanted to see if it's changed."

Oddly enough, it doesn't feel strange to be standing in this bookstore with him, considering you'd been here almost every day before and this moment is the first time you've seen each other outside of work since you had your clarifying conversation. Nervous, though, you are. You suppress the urge to tap from one foot to the other.

"So, has it changed?" Spencer tilts his head, but doesn't avert his gaze from you.

You shake your head. "Not really. But I guess the salesgirl who had the hots for you back then doesn't work here anymore." You try to lighten the slightly tense mood with the joke, and it seems to work. Spencer laughs out loud.

"I still don't think she had a crush on me." His smile widens, and it's so infectious that you have to smile, too.

"One hundred percent”, you return, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "It was pretty funny watching her flirt with you all the time, but you didn't go for it."

The bookstore is completely empty except for you and the clerk at the entrance. Silence surrounds you, but it is not uncomfortable despite the circumstances and the new situation. You just stand there smiling at each other until Spencer takes the book from your hand.

"Neruda writes beautifully." He flips through the book once before handing it back to you. As your fingers graze, a flash goes through you, but you try not to let it show. "Very nice poems."

You nod. "I know. Only know him through you”, you answer truthfully.

Spencer has to grin. "True." He runs a hand through his tousled hair. "He's in that book I gave you once."

"Right." You don't want your conversation to end, and you don't want to leave, but it would be best for both of you. You're not ready to be friends yet, and while your meeting doesn't feel awkward, you're not sure how to handle it. You tap the book and look at him.

"I'll go pay for that." You walk past him, but turn back to him. "It's good to see you, Reid." You use his last name on purpose, knowing full well that his first name is reserved for friends. And in your opinion, you're not ready yet.

"It's good to see you, too."

You nod to him again before leaving without turning around again. You feel his gaze on you anyway.

When you get to work the next day, there's a gift on your desk. It's wrapped in brown wrapping paper and a cord is tied around it and tied into a bow. Simple and beautiful. You set your bag down, confused, before sitting down and inspecting it.

"Who's this from?", Luke asks, walking past you to his desk. You shrug ignorantly.

"I don't know."

The gift is slightly larger than your hand, but not particularly heavy. After opening it and putting the paper in the trash can under the desk, you take a closer look at the book. It's black, and the cover features a plain white flower, with the word "poetry" engraved underneath. As you open the first section, you come across something written. You recognize Spencer's handwriting.

"And then the day came, when the risk to remain tight in a bud, was more painful than the risk it took to blossom - Anais Nin."

Your heart skips a beat and you block out the feeling spreading through you. You flip through the book and realize it is completely blank except for this poem. The pages are lined and practically screaming to be filled.

"Do you like it?", Spencer asks, sitting down across from you at his own desk. He sets his fresh cup of coffee down in front of him and you give him a friendly smile.

"It's wonderful." You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. "Thank you."

"I found it in the bookstore after you left. And I know you like to read poetry, and I thought you could write down your favorite poems in it." He takes a sip of his coffee.

"That's very sweet of you. Really, thank you, Reid."

"Spencer." A thin smile spreads across his face and you warm. "My friends call me Spencer."

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[ginazmemeoir]

Sister Rivalries TM

With Garuda away to retrieve the Amrit, Vinata was left all alone on Ramaniyaka amongst the nagas. However, Garuda’s little attempt at roasting them alive had shaken them, and they kept their distance from her, perhaps fearing his wrath should something happen to her. The silence gave Vinata plenty of time to hatch a plan to catch Kadru in her lie, and show the world her true self. She had crafted it to perfection, going over each detail, and soon set it in motion.

Kadru sat dressed in a simple red sari in an enormous cave, studded with gemstones, veins of gold running down and the sound of water dripping from a stalactite punctuating the silence. Sculptures and murals decorated the walls, showing the gods involved in a frenzy of sexual activity. Clearing her throat, Vinata asked for permission to enter. With her, she carried the largest pitcher she could find, filled to the brim with soma, and a pot blazing with fire. She had used the last reserves of her power to invoke the fire, thus making Lord Agni witness to whatever would now happen, unbeknownst to Kadru.

She set the pitcher and a goblet down on the ground, the fire still in her hands. “What is this for?” Kadru asked, gesturing to the assortment.

“The Amrit is too potent a liquid maharani. Your body must be trained to handle its effects, or it can knock you out. Hence the somaras. It will rejuvenate you and attune you to the nectar of immortality.”

Suspicious, Kadru further enquired, “And the fire?”

“Fire has been extolled as the greatest purifier devi. Its energy will sanctify and cleanse you.” Vinata replied deftly.

“And where’s your glass?”

“Slaves can’t drink with masters, my lady.” She replied, eyes looking at her feet, mirroring the fire she had lit.

Kadru struck fast and grabbed Vinata’s hair, dragging her down to her feet. Vinata yelped and clutched at her hands in an attempt to free herself, her hair feeling like they would be torn from her scalp.

“Perfect Vinata! Obedient Vinata! Oh Vinu, even as a slave you excel.” She whispered furiously in her ear even as Vinata’s eyes widened with fear. Perhaps she had miscalculated her sister’s hatred for her and overplayed her hand. Even still, she looked Kadru directly in her eye. Kadru slapped her face with the back of her hand, cutting her cheek with her ring. Touching her face, Vinata found her fingers stained with blood.

“Slaves are also not supposed to look their masters in the eye.” Kadru said in a cold voice, pouring herself wine from the pitcher, downing the goblet in one go and going for another helpful.

“Oh Vinu, must you always anger me so?” she asked, leaning back on the bed. Wiping tears of anger, Vinata drew her knees close to her chest and sat beside Kadru’s feet, apologizing in a small voice. Kadru savoured the power she held over her sister at the moment, and the future she had envisioned for her children and herself when they got the Amrit.

Breaking the silence, she said, “You know, we were once close Vinu. Had you not been a bitch, we could’ve remained close.”

Vinata wanted to waterboard Kadru with the soma then and there. But she kept mum. Let her speak today. Let her expel all of her venom, with the fire there as her witness. And when she’ll be done speaking, Vinata would make sure that she would never be able to wag that tongue of hers again. Kadru grabbed her face in her hand, inspecting it. “Hmmm… That didn’t cut as deep as I thought it would.” She said, swirling her glass and drinking more of the wine, finally dropping Vinata.

They sat there in the silence for a long time, with Kadru gulping the wine like it was air. Vinata had to tread very carefully here. Any change in her demeanour, or a slip of the tongue, and Kadru would see right through her even though her senses were addled with the divine drink. Gulping, Vinata said, “It was the bet wasn’t it. The thing that changed everything?”

Kadru let out a cruel laugh, spilling some of the wine on her sari. “Oh please sister dearest, things were rotting between us for a long time.”

“Between Aditi, Sati and Shraddha, our parents didn’t really have much time for the rest of us. They really were the children they had hoped for, weren’t they?” She said wistfully, reminiscing the past.

With this, Vinata could agree. Their parents had a lot of children – sixty daughters, and it wasn’t exactly possible to love each one equally for someone like them, given that they were responsible for literally creating society and held ridiculously high standards. The best ones were lavished with their attention, and the others did whatever they could to win their approval, leading to a lot of intense sibling rivalries, which they never corrected. Kadru and Vinata however, were different. They had been joined at the hip, sisters and confidants first. Kadru’s voice penetrated her thoughts once again.

“Even though I tried, I tried so hard, you were better at everything. Looks, dance, singing, art, writing, you name it and you won it. What’s worse was, you didn’t really seem to care. I tried being happy for you, I really did, but there’s really so much that one can do. So I had to find my forte, and turns out strategy and debate and administration were right up my sleeve. But you can’t really make a good wife with those skills can you.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Her acumen in those areas was the only reason her father even remembered her name, the only reason they could talk for hours. Her mother too would praise her, though those were reserved for the occasional game that she won.

“When we married Kashyap, I thought I could finally be at peace. We could finally be sisters, away from all that competition. Seeing Aditi and Diti, I had vowed that we would never be the same. Who knew that vying for romantic affection was tougher than parental validation? You were the soft-spoken wife, the householder. I was the outspoken one who didn’t really know ‘how to behave’.”

She referred to an incident that had happened soon after their marriage. Along with a friend, Kadru had pranked some sages, who had promptly cursed both to be reduced to rivers. Kashyap had to intervene and save them by drying up their riverine forms. Another time, a sage had mocked Kashyap and she had given him one of her infamous ‘glares’. However this time, the sage cursed her to end up losing that eye, which is why she only had one functional eye now.

“I will tell you when things went south. It was when we told him we wanted to have children, and you told him you wanted only two who would be better than mine. Even in getting screwed you wanted to be the better one.” She said, that burning hatred creeping into her voice again.

“Back then, I said nothing. But then I gave birth to the nagas. The others were so happy at my cute snakelings, even though I could tell they were a little worried about how I’d feed so many kids. You? You barely acknowledged them. You were their mausi, their mother’s sister. I had always cheered you on, and yet you couldn’t find happiness in mine?” Tears glistened in the sisters’ eyes – Kadru’s, through intoxication and years of resentment; Vinata’s because of the life that could’ve been had she been a little more sympathetic to her sister.

“And then came the final blow. You cracked Aruna’s egg open and they flew away, cursing you. I was the one who found you devastated on the floor, covered in yolk and eggshell, sobbing to death! I consoled you, bathed you, fed you! But the ashram ladies blamed me for your impatience! I was the one who was called ‘goddess of miscarriage’! What did you do you bitch?! YOU KEPT MUM! YOU SAID NOTHING EVEN AS OUR SISTERS GANGED UP ON ME, HOVELED UP CRYING LIKE A LAMB! I HAD TO FUCKING CLEAN SHIT FROM THE STABLES TO ABSOLVE MYSELF OF THE SO-CALLED SIN!!” she shouted, flinging her glass across the room, her chest heaving. Tears now streamed down Vinata’s face, realizing why her sister turned into this unrecognizable monster. She realized where she had gone wrong, and now that she thought back to the incident, she really should have handled the situation differently. But did that still give her sister the right to be this cruel, not only to her but to her son as well, who wasn’t even born back then?

Kadru screamed some more, letting lose all the anger inside her. Vinata however wiped her face with her sari; she could not fall weak now. A tragic encounter from the past couldn’t justify her sister and her children’s unbridled apathy and tyranny towards them, and she certainly couldn’t quit now – if not for herself, then at least for her son. Steadying her voice, she asked the question in a measured voice, scared of what might happen next. She could be killed, but she had to take the risk.

“My ladyship, I have always wondered – does Ucchaishravas really possess a black tail?”

“What? No you clueless owl. Obviously not, the horse emerged from the Samudra Manthan.” Kadru replied with an incredulous look, as if Vinata had enquired about the taste of water.

“Well then, how did he get one?”

Beckoning her to lean closer with her finger, Kadru said, “I had the nagas climb on him,” smiling.

“And they agreed?” she asked, joyous in that her suspicion ages ago was correct.

“At first, no. Ever since Shesha had left to go on his adventures and become Narayana’s abode, the others had become more spiritual and preaching. I had to threaten and curse some of them, and soon the rest complied. How do you think they got burnt on Garuda’s back? Many of them will also die eons later in a magnificent sacrifice, at the behest of a king. Besides, I had to win. Can you even imagine me as your slave?” she said, twirling her hair. Vinata had heard enough, and the fire had too, blazing brighter and hotter with the truth now. Standing up, she combed Kadru’s hair and changed her into a fresh sari, the drunk woman complying. Resting her on the bed, she wished her a good night and left with the fire. Now all she had to do, was wait for Garuda.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Anniversary (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Claire and Ethan celebrate their anniversary.

Warnings: Alcohol, tiny allusion to the adult situations, the rest is so fluffy I’m gonna die.

A/N: You may ask yourself “Does Perrie have any self control when it comes to fics?”. And the answer is ‘no’. Always a ‘no’.

It was a rare sight, two doctors walking home from work at noon. Their hands were full. Literally. After leaving the hospital, they stopped by the store to get everything they’d need for the next two days and they got a little too excited on their shopping spree. Two bags of food, swinging slightly from Ethan’s right hand, and a bottle of expensive wine, held tightly in Claire’s left. Fingers of their unoccupied hands were tangled loosely, and they walked closely together, not wanting to take up too much space on the sidewalk.

“How did Naveen even pull this off?” she asked, turning her head towards him slightly.

“I think we have your friends to thank. They volunteered to take our patients, not even Bloom could argue with that.”

“They’re your friends too, you know?” Claire teased, pressing a kiss to his arm. The gesture made him smile thoughtfully.

“I… suppose can agree with that.”

The apartment was bright when they walked in, curtains pushed back to let in the sunlight. Claire left the wine on the counter, stretching her arms above her head with a broken sigh. Meanwhile Ethan, even though he still held two heavy bags, watched her with wonder. She fit right into the picture of his home, like she’s always been there. He wanted her to be there – all the time.

He set the bags down in the kitchen, then turned towards the cabinet to grab two glasses. The burgundy liquid set a shadow, tinting the white marble red. Ethan passed his girlfriend a glass, smirking at her surprised expression.

“It’s noon.” Claire argued, eyeing him suspiciously as she accepted the drink.

“It’s happy hour somewhere.” He shot back, taking a slow step towards her. “And besides, it’s our anniversary – we have to start celebrating sometime.”

They clinked their glasses, taking a sip. Claire eyed him, her finger tracing the rim of her glass, which she set down on the table, humming under her breath. Climbing onto the tips of her toes, she pressed her palms to his cheeks and kissed him gingerly.

“Happy anniversary.” She whispered against his lips, giving him a vivid smile. Ethan couldn’t fight a smile of his own if he wanted to – and he didn’t, because he was happy like he’s never been before.

Brushing his thumbs up and down the column of her neck, he whispered right back. “Happy anniversary.”

Slowly, the day progressed. Two people moved around the apartment together with the comfort of a pair that’s been doing this for years. When the time came for them to begin cooking dinner, Ethan immediately sat her down on the counter, having assumed that she’d want to watch.

She didn’t.

Almost immediately, she jumped onto the floor, scratching his forearm with her nails as she declared that she wanted to help. They divided tasks and got to work, sipping on their wine. Claire got through her tasks without a hitch, wandering over to Ethan to look into the pot. The strong aroma of spices wafted over them, filling the room with warmth and comfort.

She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against the shell of his ear. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Wordlessly, Ethan watched her walk away from his side, a hint of a smile present in his eyes. Not for the first time, he realized that not having her in his life wasn’t an option anymore. He simply had to have her by his side, nothing less would do.

The sun illuminated her, bringing out the freckles on her face. Amplifying the highs and lows of her strands of hair that brushed the skin of her neck with every move she made. She was glowing – his very own ray of light.

As soon as their dinner was on its way to be done and could be left unsupervised for a moment, he joined her by the sink. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies fitting like two puzzle pieces. The feeling of familiarity came back with a breathtaking force, squeezing his heart.

In that moment, he felt invincible. In that moment, he felt like everything was possible. Because she made him see that everything was possible.

In that moment, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“I love you.” he muttered into her ear, barely above a whisper – the moment too fragile to break with anything louder than that. Claire didn’t freeze in his arms, just slowly grabbed the towel to dry her hands, then turned around in his arms so she could face him.

Her eyes were shining with emotions so powerful that he felt as though she put all this force into his heart and made it beat again, faster than before. Ethan smiled – a blinding and beautiful smile that he kept hidden from all but her. He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together so he could remain in their little personal bubble, his eyes never losing hers.

“I love you.” he repeated a bit louder, voice full of certainty and faith. His hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone so softly, it seemed as though he was scared she’d break. But she wouldn’t, he knew she wouldn’t.

“Ethan…” she whispered as her hands traveled up his back and onto his shoulder blades, her words shaky but filled to the brim with affection. It felt right, like they were finally in the right place, at the right time. Everything coming together to form a perfect picture. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones, searching for any sign of fear. She found nothing but love.

“I love you.” once more, he said it, his lips brushing against hers as he did. Now that he started saying it, he couldn’t stop. He would never stop – as long as she wanted him around, he’d always tell her just that.

“I love you too.” Claire mused, tilting her head upwards, their lips meeting in a breathtaking kiss. Their bodies were already close, so much so that they didn’t think they could get any closer. Still, his arms, looped around her waist, tightened their hold, hauling her onto him with enthusiasm she’s seen in him only a handful of times before. With a giggle, she threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.

“Again.” he bit her lip playfully, voice deep and velvety.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I. Love. You.” she punctuated every muse of a word with a kiss, leaning back against the counter and pulling him onto her.

Ethan’s hands grabbed her hips, using them as leverage to hoist her up onto the counter. Claire shrieked in surprise, laughing at his carefree behavior. Standing between her legs, he kissed her again, taking a deep breath of relief. There was nothing that could potentially stop him from losing himself in her.

Except for the insisting sound of the pot that demanded their attention.

With a disappointed sigh, he let her go, rushing to check on their food. She observed him, amused, but didn’t dare to move a muscle. Seconds later, he returned to her arms, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Not the best time?”

“I’m afraid so. But think about it this way.” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “We have two days before we have to go back to work. And I already told everyone to not contact us until then.”

“They’ll all think we didn’t leave the bed for two days.” Ethan argued halfheartedly, his lips now pressing soft kisses to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine at the sensation.

“Will they be wrong?”

“Absolutely not.”

It was far later in the afternoon when they finished dinner and retired to the couch for some much-needed rest. For the past hour or so, the screen of the TV was occupied by some show neither knew the title of. Neither could also say what the show was about, as they very much preferred talking to each other and finishing the bottle of wine they bought.

Claire stood up and headed towards the kitchen to grab a second one from his liquor cabinet, just lightly tipsy. She returned not long after, placing both the wine and the bottle opener on the table, then turned towards her boyfriend with a smirk full of mischief.

She extended her hand wordlessly, wiggling her fingers. He eyed her palm, then her, suspicious of her sudden idea, but found nothing that stopped him from joining her in the middle of his living room.

His own movements were slightly off balanced as he himself was intoxicated, but nevertheless, his arms embraced her and pulled her closer, holding her gently as they began to sway. Claire pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“There’s no music.” He pointed out, looking down at her with a crooked grin. The light of the late afternoon enhanced the features of her face, giving her green eyes a golden hue. She hugged him tighter.

“I don’t need music.” Claire muttered, kissing his jaw and snaking her hand up towards the back of his neck.

“Then it’s perfect.” Nodding, he let her guide his head a bit lower so that their foreheads would touch. With a smile, he added. “Because I don’t need it either.”

Notes

Once again, thank you so much for being here, every single one of you. It’s a privilege to be able to create for you, I can’t stress this enough <3

Time to go back to my corner and cry some more. Or write smut, who knows. Well, I do, but that’s beside the point.

Tagging separately

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 2]

Genshin x fem! reader

I was able to write this up during my New Year break, though I cannot promise fast updates in future with school. TwT;;;

Hope you enjoy!

[Masterlist]

“Wanna grab a drink?”

Venti was all too happy to receive an unexpected treat. You were pretty excited too. A drink with Mondstadt’s Archon? It was a dream come true!

“Are you really who they say that you are?” You asked as Venti chugged back half a mug of dandelion wine.

“That I’m Barbatos? Yes, yes, that is very much hic true.”

It has been his tenth cup of dandelion wine and he seems all set to drain you of your Mora.

“First off, could you chill on the wine? You’re drinking way too fast…” You were feeling a tinge of regret now as his face was turning a bright crimson red.

“Can we get a glass of water? Thanks!” You whispered to Diluc, who gave you a stoic nod. You bit back your smile. So handsome…

“Hear ye! Hear ye! I hereby declare that every son and daughter of Monstadt hic should taste this! Finest of wines for the finest of people!” Venti was definitely drunk. You huffed in bemusement. Taking the mug of water Diluc had offered to you, you aimed your finger above the cup. Closing your eyes, you imagined 4 ice cubes forming and dropping into the cup.

With the sound of water splashing, you opened your eyes to see 4 cubes of ice in the cup. You grinned with glee.

“Now, drink this.” You offered it to Venti, who laughed and took a swig from that cursed mug. In exasperation, you grabbed the mug from him and willed for the liquid inside to freeze over.

“Wha-hey!” Venti complained, pouting so adorably as he snatched it back to drink more but found it completely frozen.

“Enough, drink your water!” Venti reluctantly took it from you and drank it down.

“You really should take care of yourself.” You sighed as he laid his head down on the wooden table. You and Venti sat in comfortable silence.

“Are you not going to drink?” Diluc asked as he swiftly polished a wine glass.

“I’m not really one for alcohol, they can be a tad too bitter for me. Perhaps some…Grape juice?” You hummed to yourself. You noticed the slight surprise in his eyes as you ordered his favourite drink from the menu.

“...Please wait a moment.”

“You really do have strange clothes. Anyways, you have not introduced yourself to me even after all these hic drinks.” Venti balanced his head on his hand, detaching himself from lying on the table.

“I’m (F/N) (L/N). You could say that I kinda came…A long long way from home.” You nervously laughed as Diluc raised an eyebrow.

“Aha! No wonder I liked you! That sense of freedom to go exploring and adventuring!” Venti grinned. His flushed face was an indicator that he had too much to drink, even with the iced water you made for him.

“Ah…Aha, I didn’t have a choice to. It’s more of Fate’s Decision for me.” You pressed your hand against your chest self-consciously. You could feel the thrum of the Gnosis against your chest and hand.

“Fate or not, you have a choice in everything you do and you chose the one you believed was right. Isn’t that good enough?” Venti giggled.

“That’s…That’s about right.”

You were surprised. Even though he was not there, he seemed to know what you have been through and speak into your heart. You did have a choice and you picked what you thought was best.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of the path you chose. Just enjoy learning and walking on it.” Venti’s eyes looked into yours and it felt as though he knew you for years.

“..Wow…Thanks. I really needed that.” You felt a weight lifted off your chest.

Diluc came with your drink in hand, pushing it onto the wooden table. You took a sip, reveling in the taste of grapes.

“You may be a young Archon right now, but it will be okay. You’ll grow as it comes along, no sweat.” You blinked in surprise as he murmured softly. You had never mentioned your form to Venti.

“How did you- We Archons can recognize when there is a new one among our ranks. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” Venti winked, stage-whispering to you.

“But…Will everything be okay?” You wondered. You distinctly remembered that the Fatui were actively hunting for Archons and their Gnosises.

“There is no sense in worrying on things you cannot control. Just do what you can.” Venti remarked, watching as the last customer staggered out of the door. Before you knew it, the moon was high in the sky.

“W…What about the Traveller?” Venti tilted his head in curiosity as you asked. He reminded you very much of a cat.

“Uhh…Aether?” You tried guessing.

“Ah, he went off to Liyue days back. He’s probably still there since the Lantern Rites are in a week’s time.” Venti managed to defrost the last of his dandelion wine and casually sipped on it.

“Are you looking for them?” Diluc asked, his eyes studying you closely. While you had strange clothing, he could not sense any malicious intent. You tugged at your sailor school uniform self-consciously as he seemed to check you out.

“Well, maybe, kinda? They helped me out when I was in a pickle so I really wanted to thank them for it.” You inwardly gulped. You could feel Diluc’s eyes pierce you. Could he tell that you were lying?

“Ah, maybe you should set off tomorrow. You might be able...to catch them there...” Venti finished off his wine before he slumped over the table, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey! Don’t sleep there!” You huffed as he seemed to black out. You heard the door open. The amicable spark in Diluc’s eyes vanished instantly and his shoulders stiffened. You knew one of the few people who could cause such a reaction.

Kaeya.

“Aether mentioned that he would be visiting the different lands and Archons, perhaps you might be of assistance.” The blue-haired man sat himself beside you. The way he jumped into conversation…Had he been listening in this entire time?

You couldn’t help but feel that something was off as Diluc stared at you. What is he planning?

“Oh…I guess I need to get going for Liyue tomorrow, I suppose. Don’t suppose you know of a good inn to stay in?” You stretched, trying to play off your nerves.

“You can stay with me for the night.” Diluc interrupted Kaeya as he poised to open his mouth. Diluc wiped his hands with a towel before donning his gloves, barely concealing his contempt for his stepbrother.

You could feel your gulp echo in the room. The air had became so heavy.

“Uh, you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose…” He was unusually…kind. It was strange as he reminded you of the typical cold characters in your manga.

“I insist. Also, that will be 1000 mora.”

“Ah.”

You handed up the payment for the drinks you had ordered for both Venti and yourself. As you stood to help Venti, Diluc pressed his hand against yours, stopping you from waking Venti from his wine-induced slumber. You felt your cheeks flush as you jerked back your hand.

“Leave him. He will be alright.” Diluc adjusted his gloves and coat. With a sharp jerk of his head, the bartender who was switching shifts hoisted the young boy up to the room above.

“…If you say so…” You nervously followed Diluc out to Dawn Winery.

Walking out of the walls of Monstadt, the questioning began.

“What will you do once you meet Aether?”

“Thank him, maybe follow him if he allows for it? Since he is visiting the other Archons and lands, I’d like to tag along to learn about them too.” You hummed.

“…Is that really all?” Diluc frowned.

“Yes. Besides, I have absolutely nothing to gain if I try to hurt him. If you are still that suspicious, you could always tail or follow me. Though, that means you have to…abandon your responsibilities here.” You said as you massaged your neck.

“That will not be a problem. You will find that my servants are well equipped to handle-“

“Oh Mr Hero, I was not talking about your Winery, though that is a fair point.” You stole a glance at him.

Diluc was silent as you both saw the Winery in a distance.

“…How did you know?” Diluc asked.

With a soft smile, you booped his nose, “That’s classified.”

As you settled in, Diluc took a moment to take a breather while his maids handled everything. Despite his suspicions, you were right. He had responsibilities to take care of. He could not rely on the Knights to do his job.

“Well, looks like I need to call in a favour…” Fetching a quill and some paper, he sealed the letter with wax.

“Head for the Umbrella Apothecary in Liyue and give this to the Healer who resides there.” As his servant bowed his head and disappeared into the shadows, Diluc sighed as he looked back towards your room.  

While it was a relief to find out that you mean no harm to Mondstadt or Aether, he could not help his curiosity.

“Classified information, huh?”

[joshslater]

Christmas Dream

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Andrew knew right away it was a dream. That in itself was weird. He had read about lucid dreaming, but never experienced it himself. Normally when he dreamt everything made sense, no matter how impossible or out of place the elements of the dream were, until he woke up. While the memory of the dream rapidly disintegrated from his short term memory without bogging down his long term memory, he could recognize the ridiculousness of the fragments of the dream he could grasp before they too slipped through his conscious inspection. But standing in the snow outside an impossible castle, wearing only his pajamas it was clear he was in a dream.

He hadn't attempted any of the tricks given in any of the lucid dreams texts he'd read, but perhaps just knowing about them made them work, eventually. Like learning about the FedEx arrow, if you hadn't noticed it before. Once you see it you can never not see it. He tried to remember any of the practical tips. One was to push a finger through the opposite palm to prove you are in a dream. He held out his arms in front of him and slowly moved his right hand's pointing finger towards his left-hand palm. They connected as you would expect if you were not dreaming. Well, absence of proof isn't proof of absence. Parts of the castle were levitating after all.

He walked closer to the castle, walked through a big archway, and into a large courtyard. Everything looked serious but cute at the same time. Like the castle in Austria or Switzerland or wherever that the Disney Land castle was modeled after. At one point there must have been a hanging or beheading there, but still it had a feeling of being friendly. No angry French gargoyles or winged stone grotesques looking down at you. No drawbridge to keep you out, or in.

But no people. There were fires lit everywhere in those metal basket fire things placed on the cobbled courtyard floor. Everything was dusted with snow, but there were steps and trodden paths all over the place. He stood still to take it all in. There were quite a few large doors leading out from the courtyard, most of them open and with welcoming light flickering from inside. He raised his gaze up the walls and saw row after row of windows, each one with a lit candle inside. Above that were the towers, reaching high above where he stood. Some of them were clearly floating in the air, with bridges leading to them from other towers. It felt like the first level of a game. Was this where got his first weapon and gear?

There was something else also. A noise like a constant sea, or a wind sweeping through the castle. He couldn't feel any breeze, but then he was standing barefoot on snow on cobblestones and didn't feel a thing. There was also.... like a faint pink mist around him, around the entire courtyard. It was thicker closer to the doors, like it was flowing out of the castle, or into it. And smack in the middle of the square was a small hearth with a black cauldron hanging over a lit fire on a tripod, looking suspiciously like Halloween props. He moved closer.

It looked out of place in the large courtyard. Next to the fire stood a little tray with small metal steins. There was a smell of autumn spices and fruit wine as he moved close to the small cauldron and its dark contents. The setup was obvious, mulled wine and mugs, but would he dare Alice in Wonderland the situation? It was his dream, he decided, and picked up one of the steins. It was warm from the nearby fire, but not hot. He dunked it into the cauldron to scoop up some of the liquid. He hesitated again. You are not supposed to smell anything in dreams, are you? Perhaps if you lucid dream you get to do whatever. It was already clear he was dreaming in color.

The hot liquid was sweet, boozy, and well-spiced, but as soon as he'd swallowed his first sip the world began to slow down. To his horror he could see the licks of the flames in the fire move slower and slower, like one of the drugged-up addicts in the Judge Dredd movie. The good one. He put down the mug on the ground, afraid he would spill the hot liquid on himself if he collapsed. He moved as fast as before, but the flames were just getting slower. As he looked up he realized that the pink mist wasn't mist anymore. It was people dressed up in white hemmed red Santa clothes moving around him like flash. DC, not Gordon. But they were all also getting slower and slower. They all looked like they moved with a purpose, and none of them gave him even a glance as far as he could see, though at the speed they were moving he could absolutely miss it.

Although they were of all different ethnicities they all looked remarkably similar. All boys similar in age to him, all of them of similar height, slim, athletic build, cute faces with an overall clean look. This part of the dream he recognized from before. He had struggled with his sexuality, desperately trying to like girls, but somehow he always dreamt about boys before waking up sticky. Always cute, slender boys that were totally out of his league. That's another big reason why he hadn't come out yet. He felt coming out as a pudgy teenager would just bring forth the full brunt of bullying with no upside.

Now he was surrounded by a flurry of handsome boys, all dressed up as small Santas in tight, red pants, loose-fitting white hemmed red jacket, and a red hat with a white, fluffy ball at the tip. Peaking out below the pants were black shoes or boots that looked far more rugged than the rest of the outfit. Amazed he was looking around him at the slowly slowing traffic that he almost jumped of surprise when he found someone pacing right next to him that appeared to be observing him. So he wasn't invisible to them after all. "You can see me?"

"Of course I can," he said in a high pitched voice. "Drink more so we can have this over with." The observer looked like all the other boys rushing past him, lean, pretty, and clad in Santa clothes. In addition he looked bored bordering on annoyed. That did nothing to make him less attractive to Andrew. Fair skin, chiseled features, and tufts of blonde hair was peaking out from under his Santa hat. This was clearly some sort of Christmas fantasy so Andrew decided to call these boys elves. "Ok," he answered, grabbed his half-filled stein from the ground, and drank the rest. Everything around him rapidly came down to normal speed, or something close to it. It still looked like everyone was in a hurry, but their movements didn't look unnatural anymore.

"Come with me, he is ready to receive you," the elf next to him said. "Who is?" "Santa. It's my job to bring you up to speed. Follow me," and he dashed towards one of the open doors without checking Andrew was following him. Andrew was caught off guard and took a moment to start following him, so he had to sprint to catch up. "What about?" "Be quiet unless spoken to. This is a place of efficiency." "What about getting me up to speed?" "I did. You are."

They reached a set of grand stairs. Five people could easily walk next to each other up or down the stairs, and indeed they met several other elves rushing down the stairs and a few passing them running up. The stairs were a consistent marble staircase but the flights looked very different from each other. He could only see doors or hallways around the stairs, but the floors were made of different materials and architecture. Even the ceiling height differed. The first few floors looked like what you would expect from a castle, but then they passed floors looking like modern offices, like concrete factory or warehouses, even one floor appeared to be wood, like a barn or a stable. He wished he had counted properly from the ground floor, because he soon lost track of how many flights they ascended. He was astonished he'd manage without running out of breath.

Finally his guide turned in a different direction, not following the impossibly long stairs up another flight, but instead turned left down a hallway, and then left again into the belly of the building. This floor looked a bit like a castle again. Everything was tall and wide and big, and hefty lit torches lined the walls, sitting in ornate brass holders. Suddenly they came to a stop in front of two massive, white, ornate doors. Andrew's guide turned to him and looked him over. Andrew suddenly felt self-conscious again, having forgotten about himself while taking in the strangeness of the sprint. His hair was damp with sweat, his checkered pajama shirt was stretched around his body, and his jammie pants clearly showed his erection. Andrew thought he could detect a flash of a sneer or smirk in the face of the elf. "Good enough," he said and opened the door for Andrew.

Inside was a grand waiting room with marble floor, high white walls, and several sets of comfortable looking armchairs, and a large desk next to another set of doors. Behind the desk sat another handsome elf who looked up at them as they entered. He had a more tanned skin than the first elf, and black hair. "He'll soon be ready for you," he told them unprompted. "Have a seat." Andrew tentatively moved to one of the armchairs, while his guide just stood there motionless and looked bored. The other elf had returned his focus to a book that he appeared to study carefully. As soon as Andrew sat down in the armchair the elf behind the desk looked up and announced "He will see you now." Andrew's guide elf motioned impatiently towards the inner set of doors. Andrew jumped up, and quickly joined him as he opened the doors.

The room revealed as the doors opened was nothing like what Andrew had imagined. Instead of an impressive office in the style of the waiting room preceding it, the room was styled like the inside of a forest cabin. In fact, looking out the windows it looked like a snowy forest landscape dimly lit by stars. In a corner of the room a fire was crackling, and right next to it was a small desk with a man sitting behind it. Compared to the man the simple wooden desk was hilariously undersized. Although sitting down he could tell the man would rise to a sizeable height standing up. He had black boots on that, unlike what the elves wore, were polished into a reflective pitch surface, reflecting the fire. His red woolen trousers were tucked into the shin high boots. Around his waist Andrew could hint a black belt in the same shiny black leather as the boots, but only because the desk was so small and the belt was massive, 4-6 inches wide. But above that his body was naked.

A massive upper body, while not as defined as a bodybuilder sure had at least as much muscle on it. He was strongman competition ready. Even though he probably looked more muscled hunching forward over the desk, making his shoulder and traps pop into big hunks of ham, there was no denying this man could deck most people. His skin complexion was slightly darker, like Mediterranean, and his body hair most certainly was. He was covered in black hair. Arms, chest, shoulders, all of it. And looking at his face he sported a thick but neatly trimmed, black beard, black eye brows, and black hair, topped with a red and white Santa hat. In this case Andrew was pretty sure it was THE Santa hat.

He looked a bit lost and pushed some papers around until he found a book on his disk. He scratched his chin through the beard while opening it. "Let me see... Let me see... Andrew was it?" his voice boomed in the room. "Yes, Sir!" Andrew responded, quick as he could. While the man acted gentle enough, he didn't look like he would respond well to fools.

"So, what do you wish for?" he said, looking up from the book, haven’t barely looked at the first page. "Eh... The new PlayStation." "That's just something you want, not a wish," the man said, almost with disdain before going back to the book. Andrew felt stupid. Was there a difference between wanting something and wishing something? Should he have wished for an end to all wars and global warming?

The man silently flipped through the book, sometimes going back and reference something from an earlier page. "So you stole a wallet at Walmart in second grade?" Andrew felt a chill and a panic as he was racking his brain for any time he had been at Walmart in second grade. He knew he hadn't stolen any wallet, but was there another wallet incident he could think of? "The wallet I found at the parking lot? I handed that in to a cashier," he answered, still not sure if that was it. The man flicked forward a few pages. "Ah! And then the cashier kept it. I see... I see..."

He then continued to skim forward in the book, occasionally looking up at Andrew. Minutes felt like hours. Andrew didn't even know what this was all about. Was this some sort of sentencing? Was this the actual afterlife? Had he died? Somehow his heart kept racing. "Tell me about miss Sullivan, your neighbor up the street. Why did you mow her lawn?"

"I've done it many times. She talked to mum about it and offered me a job, so I went there sometimes during the summer and mowed her lawn and got $10 for doing it." Words just poured out of Andrew without him even breathing. He was sweating and not sure what the man was after.

"What about last summer?" he asked. "She got ill, not sure what. She didn't want anyone to see her in case it was contagious. But I thought I should just continue as before." "And you got paid to do that?" "No, I'm not even sure she knew I did it." "Did that make you disappointed. Not getting paid?" "No" Andrew knew immediately that that was a lie. "I mean, yeah, I would have liked to be paid. But at least I got a workout." "You work out a lot?" "No. No, I don't." "And yet you'd like to look like you did?"

Damn, he kept making everything look bad. Andrew wanted to shout "Yeah, I wish I looked like the guys on the football team or the basket team or the swim team or any other fucking sports team, but I don't because I'm a loser that isn't good at any of that or good enough in school to not spend all my free time to catch up with everyone else so it's not going to fucking happen!"

"I just don't have time." "Time for miss Sullivan's lawn apparently."

With a loud thud he closed the book, making Andrew jump. He looked straight at Andrew. "I think you need some time as a proper helper." Then he shifted his gaze towards the elf Andrew was surprised to realize was still behind him. "Make it so"

"Yes," the elf responded and ushered Andrew out of the room.

Back in the waiting room the elf behind the desk looked up at them exiting the cabin room. "What's the verdict? Naughty or nice?" he asked. "Helper duty," Andrews guide responded. Andrew felt that things were happening outside of his control that he needed to be more aware of. "Wait. What's happening? Helper duty?" "Don't worry. It'll be fine," the guide elf responded. "Don't say don't worry. Tell me what's going on." "Ok, then. Do worry. You are going to become a helper. Just follow me." and he started to walk out of the waiting room back out into the corridor outside. The receptionist elf had stood up, walked around the desk, and patted Andrew in the back to motion him to start walking. Reluctantly Andrew started to walk, following the first elf. To his surprise the other elf followed him.

All three of them turned down the corridor in the opposite direction of the stairs and walked further into the building. Andrew was thinking about the encounter he just had. Somehow he wasn't sure if it had been a good or a bad one. He clearly wasn't getting any useful answers from his guide. The way they were walking, one in front and one behind, was kind of telling. Like he had just been sentenced and was on his way to receive his punishment. As if there was anywhere he could run. And he was still hard. Big fucking oblivious dick just happy to see everyone. Like a stupid puppy not understanding the situation. But did he?

After some twists and turns they stopped in front of a much more mundane door. One of many they had passed, and there were many more ahead of them in the corridor. The first elf opened the door and they all stepped inside.

This room was reminiscent of a locker room. Well lit, white walls, green plastic floor, a shelf system along one wall with rows after rows with labeled boxes, and in the middle of the room, a knee-high, sturdy bench with something akin to a gym mattress as a top.

No sooner had the door shut behind Andrew before the guide elf jumped him and started kissing him. Andrew's brain just went completely blank at first, not knowing what to do. He'd never kissed a handsome dude before, or any dude, and the kiss with Sophie didn't really count as a kiss really. They were just practicing. A few seconds in he realized he should perhaps do something too and grabbed hold of the elf. He started to actively kiss him back, or tried at least. He wasn't quite sure all the parts of his body were doing what he wanted them to, but holy fuck what was going on? Then he felt the other elf behind him, breathing at his neck. He could feel him kissing his neck while his hands went up inside his T-shirt. He was almost out of air and begun to feel light-headed when the first elf pulled away from their kiss. His vision came into focus again and he looked straight into the steel blue eyes of the boy. He was smiling for the first time Andrew had seen. Crisp white teeth, pinkish lips, and smooth skin. This was as up close as you could get and he was still gorgeous. They were both panting. "I need you... to take off... your clothes," the elf managed.

Andrew was happy to oblige, and the other elf behind him helped him out of his T-shirt. Andrew untied the drawstring on his pajama pants and stepped out of them while the first elf came back from the wall of boxes with some items, the first of which was a pair of grey socks. "Here, put these on." Andrew sat down on the bench and put on the socks, where we was joined by the receptionist elf. He kept rubbing Andrew's shoulders and back, and gave another kiss on his neck as he reached down to put a sock on his second foot. "You've never slept with anyone before, have you?"

Andrew turned to look at him directly. He hadn't really given him a proper look, as the elf had walked behind him all the way. He looked like a Brazilian photo model with tanned skin, hazel eyes, and pitch-black hair. His flimsy Santa jacket was opened and revealed a magazine cover perfect view of pecs and abs, and below that a bulge in his pants straining to be released. Andrew, naked except for the socks, was already showing his willingness with an almost painfully erect penis. "No..." It was like Andrew's brain was shortcircuiting next to this beautiful boy and couldn't come up with proper sentences.

The elf guided him to a bridge position. "Here, roll over." He kissed his way down Andrew's spine down to his butt. Then he dabbed his finger in Andrew's precum and started to slowly massage Andrew's butt hole. Then gently going in and out, then using two fingers, then three. Andrew thought he would explode with cum right then and there, but somehow that didn't happen. He kept his eyes closed and thought of the handsome boy behind him that was loosening his asshole.

When he opened his eyes he saw something sliding in below him. The other elf, the blonde guide elf was on his back in front of him on the bench, completely naked. Andrew was staring down at the elf’s balls and erect dick just below his face. He looked up over the body, the same perfect abs and pecs as the other elf, and all the way up to his handsome, chiseled face. He saw that the Santa hat was still on, so not completely naked after all. He looked down at the dick on offer in front of him again. He realized he was salivating. Tentatively he lowered himself and began to lick the tip of the penis a few times. Then he did a quick attempt at putting it in his mouth. Then he started to suck it in earnest. At the same time he could feel the reception elf entering his butt.

Andrew tried to keep the same pace with his sucking as with the penis going in and out of his butt. That way he felt like he could just zone out into bliss and not think of anything but pleasure. When he eventually did orgasm all three came at the same time. Andrew wasn’t prepared for any cum, and more as a panic reflex swallowed everything that got pumped into his mouth, just as he came on the bench and the second elf in his ass.

"Now these." Andrew realized he had been standing there on all four, frozen just trying to process what had just happened. "What?"

"Put these on," the but for his hat naked elf repeated, holding out a pair of red trousers of the same kind as they wore. As he put his feet down from the bench Andrew realized his legs looked different. Then he realized that his upper body looked different too. It was the same lean abs and pecs as all the other elves. Almost dazed he took the trousers, stepped into them, and slid them up his legs. Were his dick and balls any different than before? Perhaps. Hard to tell.

"These should be your size now," the other elf said, and placed a pair of black boots in front of him. Sturdy, no-nonsense, military style black leather boots. "I..." Andrew began, but couldn't really verbalize what he felt. There were a faint trail of hair from his pubs to his belly button, flanked by the most pronounced V he had ever seen in real life. It was one thing to see the bodies of all the elves, but on himself was another thing all together. He pushed one then two feet into the boots, tied them, and let the trousers hide them.

"Almost done. Just these two left," the guide elf said, handing him a jacket and a hat. Andrew grabbed both and quickly put them on. "Now what?"

"Now you look like a helper. Always were one."

The room is black save for the faint blue light from the alarm clock on the nightstand. Andrew stared into the black ceiling wide awake. He glances over at the clock. 05:16. A bit too early to run downstairs and check the Christmas stocking. He's supposed to be almost grown up after all. What a weird dream. Hot, but weird. He sticks his hand down the pajama pants. Sticky, but not bad enough to not sleep a few hours more. As he turns to the side he feels the boots on his feet.

[lustbile-archive]

Hey, Bartender!

YutaxReader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary/Warnings: The usual for this series. Smut Yuta and Reader are complete strangers. Sharp object play, blood play, and semi public. Yuta just being generally suspicious at times.

This is a part of my Club X series. The other works can be found in the masterlist Here

(I recommend reading the other works to get a better idea of how club x works)

Maybe it wasn’t in your best interest to wander over to this side of town in the first place.

It definitely wasn’t in your best interest to willingly walk into the messy apartment of a man you had only been messaging since the night before, but he seemed nice enough and you needed something of a distraction. Plus he promised you a few free drinks and a nice movie, so why not take a chance and lean back into his old worn couch?

You weren’t surprised when he made a move on you. Yeah you had explicitly told him you weren’t looking for a hookup tonight, but he was still some random guy from a dating app that you were really only using for some attention and free alcohol so you couldn’t even feign shock when his rough fingers landed far too close to the hem of your dress.

Luckily, you were only a few drinks in, and his stuff was cheap and watered down, so you simply brushed him off and walked out of his door and back into the dark and unfamiliar street.

Not many people would walk out of an unsuccessful tinder date and immediately stumble into a shady club, but tonight you weren’t in the same mindset as many people. In your eyes, your judgment was already a little off tonight, so what was the harm of adding to it?

The blaring white of the neon sign almost felt hypnotic when you passed it on the way to the bus stop. Was it there when you walked by earlier? You didn’t remember seeing it, but maybe they just hadn’t opened yet. It was as if your feet moved on their own, moving you to walk through the cramped doors, the fact that there was no waiting line to enter the building completely ignored by you.

The deep bass that shook the floor pecked at your head like a sculptor trying to carve a likeness from the marble of your skull, the red lights making you feel like you stepped directly into an unknown hell. The air smelled strangely sweet and it was as if it clung to your skin the second you stepped in. Sweaty bodies filled every space of the room, the amount of energy pumping into the atmosphere made you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed. The small voice in the back of your mind repeating that you should leave was slowly being suffocated by a sudden urge to move.

You stumbled over your own feet, shoulders of people rushing past shoving and pushing you around. Though the roughness of their bodies were drowned out when you saw the bar stools lined up one by one.

A drink. That’s why you came in. That’s what you convinced yourself of as you crawled into one of the seats at the end of the bar, the vinyl of the seat was split and cracked exposing the foam underneath.

Once you're seated, it’s like a crash after a sugar rush. You're sleepier than you were on your way through the crowd, but the small buzz of energy was still there. Your forehead meets the palms of your hands as you lean on the worn wood of the bar, it takes strong will to ignore the sticky substance that your elbow had landed in as you try to even your breathing.

“Someone needs a drink,” mean spirited sarcasm dripped from the voice in front of you, a small laugh punctuating the words of what you assumed was the bartender. How’d he get over so quickly?

“You could say that again,” you slowly lift your head, your skull feeling like it was filled with sludge.

When your eyes meet the ones of the boy in front of you, you can’t help but notice the shift that happens behind his eyes. He’s still amused by your misery, but there’s something there that almost reads as recognition, as a knowing. It seemed like the devious grin he wore twitched down to a concerned frown, but only for a moment. Or maybe you were letting your need for normal human interaction mess with your head. Either way you ignore it for more important matters.

“You wouldn’t happen to have wine back there would you?” the small smile he offers has a tinge of pity that makes you cringe.

“I’ll see what I can find,” you try not to flinch when his hand meets your arm in what was meant to be a comforting tap, “are you partial to red or white?” he’s already turned to look at the bottles lined behind him, turning momentarily to add, “or something tells me you might be a rosé type hm?”

“I’m not really in a position to be picky right now,” you offer a tight lipped smile at his assumption, as no amount of time that you’ve spent talking to this boy warrants him making assumptions about you.

You turn in your seat, letting your eyes fall over the crowd of people around you. You can’t help but notice that there’s an unspoken perimeter surrounding the bar that hinders the club goers from crowding too close. From what you can tell from the types of people that chose this place as their place of the night, you’d assume there’d be a group of party girls taking shots or a handful of boys with weak relationships with their masculinity placing bets on who could chug a beer faster, but it was nothing like that.

There were a few other people seated at the bar, but none close to you, and even then they seemed to be in a similar situation as you. Even from the long length of the bar, you could see a few people slowly sipping drinks with their heads dipped low, one man even having his face pressed flat against the wood seemingly passed out.

A cold glass touching your arm pulls you from your thoughts and makes you jump. You turn faster than you planned making you feel dizzy as it feels like your brain has started to freely float in your head. The presence of the bartender was confusing as you had thought he would leave after giving you your drink.

“Here,” he smiles in a way that should read as nice, but there’s something behind his wide eyes that makes you shiver as your fingers wrap around the glass, “I hope you like it, it’s a good one.”

The liquid swirling in the glass is a cool lilac. It swirls with blues and whites and almost looks like it glitters below the low lights. You look up at the boy in front of you warily, your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip before you bring the glass to your lips.

It’s cool as it slides past your drying lips, the taste almost like candy as the alcohol bleeds into your veins. There was nothing you could compare it to, as it was a flavor you’ve never had in your life. With only one swallow in your system, you already feel your muscles relaxing, the nerves that bit at you calming as your mind was set into slow motion.

“It’s really good,” you smile up at him in a way that can only be described as gooey, but you can’t suppress the warm feeling that floods you regardless of the temperature of the drink.

“I’m glad you like it, it’s a favorite of mine,” the underlying meaning of his words pass completely over your head as he reaches for a glass a few feet away and begins to wipe it with the rag on his hip. Was that glass there when you sat down?

“So,” he starts, he leans against the bar as he twirls the glass between his fingers, “what brings you to a club like this? You don’t seem like the type to be in here.”

“Bad week,” you shrug as you bring the glass back to your lips momentarily, “bad life.”

You only quietly mutter the last part into the rim of your glass, but he seems to hear it regardless. You always assumed spilling your guts to a bartender wasn’t something that actually happened, or at least happened to people much more inebriated than you, but the response fell from your lips so naturally there was no holding them back.

“That’s what I figured,” he shakes his head slowly, before lifting the glass to inspect it for any spots. Once he’s content with the cleanliness, he places it down and looks at you again, “but I guess it’s my job to help.”

“Help?” your head tilts as you speak, a dry laugh coming out as an exhale from your nose, “aside from keeping my glass full I don’t know if there’s much you can do.”

“Of course there is,” his eyes squint as he assesses you, the smile he offers makes his teeth look too sharp for his mouth, is this what it’s like to be hunted by a shark? “Like I said it’s my job.”

“Your job to keep random club goers happy?”

His head shakes again, and you nearly jump from your skin when the tips of his fingers brush the back of your hand, “not club goers. You.”

The look he holds in his eyes suddenly shifts with the single word. The stare he gives you is hard and almost unnerving, but you can’t force yourself to look away. It’s as if he’s trapped you frozen in your seat.

“And how are you going to do that?” you wanted to sound doubtful, maybe accusatory, but your voice comes out small and curious.

“You look smart,” he pinches the skin on the back of your hand, before he turns it over to pet at the sensitive skin of your wrist, “I think you can figure it out.”

“We’re supposed to do that in a crowded club?” you play along, your fingers returning the favor as you brush them against the length of his arm. The offer didn’t sound unappealing, he was gorgeous. Enough that you questioned why he had chosen being a bartender in a shady club as his profession, and if he wasn’t working and he offered to take you home you wouldn’t say no. But in the middle of a club?

He shrugs before he wears a devious smile, “everyone else is.”

Your chin juts forward and you eyes widen in confusion, before you turn slightly to face the crowd. You’re not sure why you made sure not to turn enough to lose his touch.

What he said was true. Maybe you were too eager to get a drink when you first walked in, or maybe you just chose to ignore it, but he was right. The crowd that once seemed like it was only filled with dancing bodies, takes on a new monstrous form as you look at it now. There’s still people dancing, but as you look closer you begin to notice greedy hands and desperate mouths moving without a care of who could see. Skirts push up and underwear pushed to the side as random couples, and even a few groups, enjoy the pleasures of one another.

“Oh my god,” you turn back to face the grinning man in front of you, your fingers wrapping around his arm in an attempt to ground yourself, “what kind of club is this?”

“Oh come on,” he sounds unimpressed at your shock, his nails now gently scratching at your skin, “you’re grown, don’t act like you’ve never seen it before.”

“But I- I don’t know what…” you stutter over your words. The sight was a shock, and you can’t help but feel a bit scandalized, but there’s no way for you to ignore the warmth that settles in the seat of your underwear at what you saw and what he’s suggesting.

“But I’m still technically on the clock so we’d have to be quick,” he ignores your rambling as he pulls away from your skin to untie the small black apron he had wrapped around his hips.

“You want to have sex with me in, not only a crowed club, but a crowded club that you work at?” your fingers grip at the edge of the bar as you lose his arm to hold to, your body all but vibrating as he scans the space at the side of the bar for something, or someone. There’s no ignoring the way your heart begins to rapidly beat in your chest.

“You won’t believe me if I tell you why it’s okay for this to happen,” his casualty to the situation makes you curl into yourself, “but there’s a reason you're here, so there’s no point in acting like you don’t want it to happen.”

Your mouth closes tightly at his accusation, but you have no points to argue. He was something of a charmer, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could convince you to help him rob a bank at this point. You’d be ashamed to admit out loud that the idea of this is getting you excited.

He waves a younger guy over, before turning back to you, “you want it. It’s impossible for you not to,” he clicks his tongue as his eyes travel your body. You lift slightly from your seat in anticipation, your legs shaking in response, “but you still seem apprehensive, so what do you say we go somewhere quick and private?”

You wordlessly nod as your nails dig into the old wood of the bar. The guy he motioned over is now leaning over the bar with eyebrows raised in curiosity, as the bartender leans to whisper something about covering for him while he’s gone. The knowing smile the guy offers in response makes your hair stand on end in embarrassment at the idea of someone else knowing what you were about to do.

Your embarrassment fades slightly as you watch the man begin to round the corner of the bar to reach you. Your heartbeat reaches your throat as the situation you’ve found yourself in begins feeling too real.

The younger guy presses himself against the bar, patiently waiting for the man to pass. All he offers is a teasing, ‘we told you someone would come’ earning him an irritated swat on the shoulder.

The grip around your wrist is tighter than you would have expected as he begins to pull you along his side. When you glance back at the boy left at the bar in curiosity, all you’re offered is a sly wink.

The trek through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor is nothing like the one you took earlier. It was as if people were purposefully moving out of the way of the cold man you trailed behind. You would have thought that was exactly what was happening too, if it wasn’t for the fact that no one spared you two a glance.

You can’t hide the cringe that hits your nerves when the bathroom sign comes into view, you hesitant steps only making him tug you harder behind you. Was this really his idea of somewhere private?

The door of the men’s restroom creaks loudly as he swings it open, a loud bang ringing out in the space when it hits the graffitied wall. Surprisingly, it’s empty when you enter, and for a restroom there doesn’t seem to be any strong smells. Your curious eyes dancing around the room are interrupted as he shoves you into one of the bigger stalls, a small yelp sounding from your chest as you shoulder bumps against the door frame.

When you turn his back is facing you as he tries to latch the door, giving you an opportunity to admire his form. His shoulders shifting under the shirt and the short sleeves allows you to see the muscle of his back moving. He’s almost gaunt in his slouching stance but that does nothing to erase how much he intimidates you.

You anxiously swallow your saliva when he turns to face you, the smile he shows different than any he had given you at the bar. If people could be evil incarnate, it would be the man in front of you. You shrink into yourself as he devours you with his eyes.

“Remember I said we gotta be quick,” he grabs your waists tightly in callused fingers making you squeak, before he roughly turns you to press your front into the wall, his chest immediately meeting your back, “there you go.”

You hear the sharp metallic sound of your dress’ zipper being shoved down roughly, you can only pray that he didn’t break it when the fabric pools around your ankles. You aren’t given the opportunity to check, before he’s pressing you tighter against the wall, your face pressed flat against the tiled walls, and one of his rough hands grabs the back of your neck while the other falls between your legs. The motions happening to fast for your mind to keep up, your life being set to fast forward.

He pets at the dampening fabric of your underwear, barely ghosting the tips of his fingers over your core. You pant in impatience as your hips begin to roll in search of friction.

“I thought we had to be quick?” you attempt to ask innocently, but the question comes out more demanding then you had intended, your thighs softly clinching desperately. You don’t remember the thought forming in your mind before it escaped your mouth, but you’ll be glad if it makes him pick up the pace.

There’s a dry laugh from the man behind you before he shifts to dig the heel of his hand into your aching clit. You whine loudly in response seemingly forgetting someone could walk in at any time as his fingers dig harshly into the back of your neck.

“Just wanted to get you ready, but you’re already wet aren’t you?” he shoves the fabric to the side, his fingers quickly dipping into where your arousal drips out of you, a pleased groan rattling his chest, “of course you are. I knew you’d be.”

“Please,” you plead, your hips rolling faster when he dips two fingers into you, pushing and pulling you apart.

“You’ve been dripping for me the moment I gave you that drink haven’t you?” his hips press forward into you back, digging his erection into the flesh of your ass. You desperately rut into it the best you can as he kicks at your feet making you spread your legs further.

“You’re right though,” he hums at the quiet noise you make as he pulls his fingers away. He wipes them on the skin of your thigh, before he moves to mess with the fabric and zipper of his jeans, “gotta fuck you quick hm?”

Even with his hand away from your skin and his hips away from yours, your hips still twitch and dip in search for pleasure. Your hands lay flat on the grimy wall, your nails gently scratching lines into the chipping paint.

You gasp when his wet and sticky tip hits the inside of your thigh, the way it spreads his arousal against your skin telling you that he slowly running his hand up the length.

“You good?” he mutters into the air as he moves to press against your entrance, not moving to enter you until you answer him.

“Please I need it so bad,” you huff in frustration as your walls begin to flutter in anticipation, “please, please, please.”

Your rambling is cut off with a deep groan when he fills you in once thrust. Being filled so suddenly melts your brain as your nails claw at the wall. You feel yourself clench a few times around him, but his stillness and lack of verbal response tells you he’s not as affected as you.

He shushes and coos at you as both hands find a place on your hips, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

Once you’ve gone quiet, he slowly leans back, only slipping a few inches out of you. You hear him adjust his stance before he starts roughly thrusting into you. His thrusts are slow and short, pulling against every hypersensitive nerve inside you as he never fully leaves your body. He uses his hands that grip your hips to pull you to rock back and meet his thrusts at an equal pace.

Your legs shake as you try to hold yourself up, his hips knocking you into the wall in front of you. With your fingers curling desperately in search for something to hold, you reach behind you. A sigh of content slips from your mouth when you find his wrist, your fingers wrapping around it as he knocks into you making a content growl fall from his mouth.

Mentally you’ve left the bathroom you're in, you mind slipping into a space where only you and this man you barely know are existing. Not even the sharp coolness of the wall biting at your nipples through your thin bralette is enough to break your facade as one of his hands slowly runs up the dip of your spine. With only one hand gripping your hip, he’s thrown slightly off balance, forcing your body to slam flat against the wall with his unrelenting pace.

“It will only hurt for a second,” his promise is muddled in your brain, the words making no sense to you as your body is wracked with pleasure. You only begin to understand what he said when you begin to feel it.

A small bite of pain, the warning of a bee sting telling you it’s about to get worse. His fingers press flat against your shoulder blade as something, what you assume is a ring you didn’t notice him wearing, begins to slowly cut open the skin.

You quietly sob into the air as the pain mixing with your unnatural amount of pleasure floods your veins. Tears slip down your face suddenly as he stops cutting into you to wrap his arm around your waist and his fingers search for the space between your legs.

“What did you do?” you want to ask in curiosity as the pain subsides momentarily, but the words die on your tongue. At the exact moment his greedy fingers find your buzzing clit, his tongue flattens against the fresh cut on your back as he lets your blood spread on his taste buds.

A quiet muffled, ‘I knew you’d taste sweet,’ is all you hear before his lips wrap fully around the wound. He harshly sucks at the tender skin as his fingers rub rough tight circles into your bundle of nerves making new tears slip from your eyes.

The pain in your shoulder, mixed with the blooming pleasure between your thighs, makes your whole body shutter against his. The beginning promises of an orgasm crawling across your skin.

If it wasn’t for the cut he created on your skin, you probably would have been more concerned with how your nails dig harshly into the skin of his wrist. Your eyes roll back and loud moans rip from your chest as the tip of his tongue presses into your cut at the same time you begin to come.

He’s teeth dig into the tender skin next to the wound as your walls clamp tightly around him. Another growl is pulled from him and his hips still as he begins to come as well. The feeling of his come spilling deep inside of you and his still moving fingers, flooding your system with another wave of pleasure.

You feared your eyes would fall out from how far they roll back into your skull, your orgasm ripping you apart at the seams as you become completely consumed by it. His hot panting breath now hitting your neck as he tries to sooth you with soft kisses to the space below your jaw.

His fingers relent, moving instead to pet at your stomach, as he slowly pulls his softening length out of your shivering body. With your forehead pressed against the cool wall, he begins to gather your dress from the floor.

With careful fingers, he adjusts your underwear to hide where he’s made a mess of you, the fabric of your dress joining to cling to your sweaty skin.

He pulls you to rest against his chest as he begins to rock you back and forth. If your mind was clear you’d be aware enough to suppress the dopey smile that graces your features. The damp air that surrounds you is thick, and would have been suffocating if it wasn’t for your mind being too delirious to register the feeling. You’re in his arms for what feels like decades as your breathing evens and your legs gain strength. The fact that you stand in a restroom is completely ignored as you think you could comfortably stay here forever.

Once he feels you’re coherent enough, he speaks, “you need to get out of here,” you only hum in content and confusion before he continues, “you need to get home sweetheart. The last bus leaves soon.”

You petulantly whine as you turn in his arms. Your own circle around his neck as you tiredly press your nose into the space of his shoulder. He laughs at your sudden clinginess. He was told it would happen once you’ve met, but he never thought it would be as immediate as the other boys had made it seem.

“You’ll be fine,” he pulls you away slightly, enough to look into your eyes and bump his nose against yours, “if you get on the bus you’ll be safe until you get home.”

“You?” you whisper, your proximity making your lips brush against his, the small contact making your heart leap. The word alone doesn’t make much sense to even you, but he seems to understand as he offers a warm smile.

“Next time you come I’ll be here, and if I’m not at the bar ask for Yuta,” his fingers brush against your back where he left his mark, now protected and slowly healing under the fabric of your dress, “but I should know that you're coming before you get here.”

[reginarubie]

Working on next chapter of “Deadly Sins, part 2” and the first of its intersecting story “Cardinal Virtues”

So, the ambitious project of this (mafia Jonsa AU) series is to write one main story (divided in seven parts of at least 5 chapters each) inspired by one of the seven deadly sins (each part features one single POV, for example, Gula~gluttony is told entirely by Jon's POV) but the story told by these parts is not devoid of eventual other POVs, those though are told in another intersecting story (so the stories have to be read paralleling) inspired by the Cardinal Virtues (and will be divided in four parts).

The first chapter of the main story (Gula~gluttony chapter 1) is already up and you can read it here and these days I am working on chapter 2 of it, and chapter 1 of the intersecting story Prudentia et Sapientia~prudence and sapience.

Here, have a sneak peek

Gula~gluttony, chapter 2

He won’t patronise her by asking.

Alayne curls her lips in a soft smile that makes his heart skip a beat “Cheers to that,” she comments clinking their glasses together and taking another small sip of the red wine. 

“You’re cautious,” he comments “and suspicious” he says noticing that the level of the liquid is almost unchanged since she has first taken her first sip. Alayne shrugs and says nothing. Jon settles his glass down and leans a bit forward, pressing both elbows on the table — Alayne flashes him a glare, such well manners wrapped so nicely — and adds “I won’t harm you, Alayne” he tells her.

Alayne cocks imperceptibly her head to the right “Won’t you?,” she asks “and I am supposed to take your word for it?” her eyes sparkle dangerously as she herself leans back against the back of the chair she occupies “you know you aren’t the first to make such promises? There’s a reason I don’t trust them anymore” her accent is so lovely, so curling across her lips that Jon would like to chase it with his own. 

“I am not any of those men who have betrayed your trust,” he says “when I give my word I keep it” 

Alayne arches a brow by a millimetre, almost in disbelief and definitely indulgent with a side of impudent, she twists her wrist making the liquid dance in the glass before bringing it to her lips again “So you say,” she comments without elaborating further.

Prudentia et Sapientia ~ prudence and sapience, chapter 1

Aw, does he has you hooked on him as well?, Randa teases, it is like a cold bucket being throw in her face.

Fantasies are tantalising, but they are also dangerous. Alayne cannot afford them. She has to be always alert, one eye fixed behind her shoulder and the other forward. 

She scoffs, but Randa is already on the verge of a giggling fit and it is just almost normal, to be just a girl telling to her friend of the dashing man she has met in a club being groped by a lysenese and how soulful and deep his eyes looked and how raspy and caressing his voice— 

And Alayne is not a normal girl. She has never been. Yet for a moment more she lingers into that dream, that fantasy of a normal life. 

“Keep me posted” she says as she closes the call, almost half-an-hour later. Let him dig. 

I loved you, more than anyone else, Petyr had pleaded when she had testified against him during this trial. 

And yet you betrayed me. 

(...)

— are you listening to me?

“No, sorry,” she offers “I was lost in thought”

I said don’t let him fool you, Arya repeats, we may want him to be part of this, but we don’t need him to. 

And Alayne wonders. If someone had come for them, that time, would Arya still hold belief in people around her?, Arya had to survive in the streets, she had to learn to rely only on herself and few trusted friends that proved their worth time and time again. Alayne’s own experience had been different, she had learned that to survive you needed to learn to play nice and make people work together. 

He’s not pack, Arya reminds her. 

“Not yet,” Alayne says in the phone “but he could be” 

See?, Arya demands from the other side, don’t let your wishful thinking blind you sister. We cannot afford it.

Alayne straightens her shoulders “I know. I am not” she assures “he’s been searching for me”

Arya scoffs, I bet, she butts in, just— be careful, ye?

Alayne smiles “Ye” she replies in the affirmative. Arya sighs on the other side of the device. 

Alright, she says, I really need to go now. Forget this number, I’ll have you have the new one. 

Alayne shrugs. She knows this “Yes,” she says “take care, okay? Don’t get into too much trouble”

Trouble is my middle name, is Arya reply, you stay out of trouble, then the line goes silent but for static and Alayne lowers her phone and lets her hand hang at her side. She looks at the city pretty lights and sighs. 

So, stay tuned for they are coming soon!

[solomonish]

From the Mouths of Fools

Belphegor has a habit of forcing his brothers into trouble, mostly with you. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look of horror on their face when they think they must have dashed their chances with you and that they’re digging the hole deeper. Each time, you reach out a hand and ease their worries, and Belphegor’s stomach twists as you tell them with kind eyes not to worry, that they’re very sweet. Why did you have to be such a spoilsport?

(also posted on ao3 @ treetunkdaddy)

Poems:  A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings, I Love You by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Leviathan: I love you. Leviathan: I love you more than anyone else in this world. You: Thanks! Leviathan: Happy now? Leviathan: As I thought, this was the right thing to say.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment longer with one eyebrow raised. Something here wasn’t right. Though you weren’t some grand detective, you could tell that the texts didn’t sound like Levi at all Even beyond the sudden boldness, if you pictured Levi texting those messages you could only imagine him with a rain cloud over his head as he hunched over his phone in sorrow. The somber tone didn’t match his usual excitement. Maybe he was trying to get into character for some sort of cosplay…? Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out if he had mentioned getting into character for something. Still, there was no way he wouldn’t know all the lines of a character he was trying to embody, and it seemed far-fetched that he’d choose something so...overt, let alone practice it with you.

Before you could distract yourself too much from the tasks you were supposed to be working on, a solid oof a few feet away from your door caught your attention. You could just barely hear a half-hearted grumble barely covering the low boyish giggles of a scheming Belphegor as Levi freaked out in a jumble of words that sounded more like a keysmash than an argument. A moment later, you got another slew of texts that seemed much more like the demon you knew.

Leviathan: AAAEWAGVNAFBPEABD Leviathan: WAAAAAIT! Leviathan: I take that back! Leviathan: AARGH, no, that’s not what I meant! Leviathan: I left my D.D.D. on the couch and Belphie ran off with it!

Ah. That made sense. It also explained the nervous energy you could practically feel radiating from where the two demons undoubtedly still lay in a heap. With a devious look on your face, you tapped away at your phone.

You: I took a screenshot of it!

You were right about one of them being outside your door. You could hear Levi’s startled yelp, followed shortly by frantic footsteps running down the hall to his door. The three dots danced on your screen as the sound got quieter, the message reaching you just as the door to Levi’s room slammed shut.

Leviathan: No, you can’t! Delete that ASAP! DELETEIIIITTTTT!

Snickering to yourself, you hefted yourself out of your seat and opened your door to peer out into the hallway. A little ways to your left, Belphie lay sprawled out on the carpet with a half-dazed expression on his face. Taking care to keep your footsteps quiet in case he actually was asleep, you bent over his face to look at his half-lidded eyes. After a moment of shifting into focus, Belphie gave you a lazy smile and patted the floor next to him.

“You should join me,” He offered. “The carpet is surprisingly soft.”

“Yeah, and surprisingly dirty,” You added, gently toeing at his shoulder as if that would spur him to move.

“If you stare at the pattern on the ceiling and let your eyes get unfocused, it’s real easy to fall asleep,” He suggested. You turned your head to look at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a boring, dark texture above you. If you squinted, you could almost make out swirls in the paint. Maybe demons had a better time seeing details in the dark.

Beneath you, Belphie hummed contentedly, folding his hands at his stomach. He almost looked like he was sunbathing in a meadow, surrounded by fragrant flowers - the image made your heart jump the slightest bit. Maybe, if that was the case, you would have joined him. Lying next to him as a gentle breeze danced over your skin and the tall grass kissed your skin...that didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hey,” Belphie asked suddenly, holding you in a serious stare. It was one he didn’t bother to give you often, saving it only for when you trespassed him so greatly he needed to make it known (more often than not when he told you how lame Lucifer was if you mentioned how he’s helped you with some administrative details for the exchange program). “What did you feel when Levi sent you that message?”

“What?” You asked, shaken by the jarring change in his voice. He sounded much more stern, and though it was hard to tell while looking at him upside down, you were pretty sure he was holding you in a glare, albeit a very gentle one.

“Did it make you happy?” He asked. “That he might love you?”

Your face flushed at the personal question and you averted your gaze, missing the way Belphie’s gaze hardened at your reaction. “I-I knew they weren’t from Levi,” You answered, shaking your head and looking back at Belphie. “They sounded way too suave for him. I thought maybe he was playing a character, or something. I didn’t think they meant anything.”

“You thought they didn’t mean anything…” Nodding, Belphie’s mouth twisted in thought as he looked just past your shoulder blankly. Suddenly his arms shot up and he grabbed at the air a few times, shutting off any gateway to questions you might have. “Help me up. I wanna nap somewhere softer than this where I won’t get trampled.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the idea of leaving him there around once before shifting to his side and pulling him up. He took the chance to stumble into you, jamming his chin into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. Instead of feeling his breath tickle your skin, however, you felt his hair brush against you as he adjusted, eventually stopping once he was satisfied. You realized for a moment he was listening for your pulse, and your breathing shallowed on instinct, as if you wanted him to hear it. He didn’t tell you what he was listening for, only groaning when you started to ask him to let go so you could resume your day.

“Mmmm….maybe I should nap here? So comfy….” He murmured. Though he made no move to let go, he also didn’t fight you when you finally separated him from your body. Giving him a farewell smile, you turned your back to leave, not seeing his face fall in displeasure.

---

A few days later, there was a book on your bed that you were positive wasn’t there when you left that morning.

Dropping your backpack unceremoniously by your door, you peered at the worn cover to see it was an old collection of romantic poems. There was no suspicious Latin on the cover, now jewels (or missing jewels) to indicate it was a spellbook or otherwise enchanted, so you picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was a collection of human poems, many of which you read in your early school days. There were a few multicolored tabs stuck in it, no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Though it looked to be Satan’s book, you couldn’t imagine him risking getting adhesive on the worn pages. Curious, you flipped to the first marked page and scanned it, face flushing almost immediately.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

Flipping to the next marked page, your face turned an even deeper red as they scanned the page.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Each page you turned to gave you smooth velvet words that someone very clearly wanted to direct at you, each getting more intimate than the last. Every poem you read sent more blush to your face until you were positive another word would have you passing out.

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the lovelight lies Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm white flesh Touches mine in a fond embrace; I love your hair when the strands enmesh Your kisses against my face.

Honeyed words of Shakespeare and Dickinson forced your heart to pump faster in your chest than you ever thought possible. Though your body really did feel like it might collapse under the affection the poems held, you couldn’t stop yourself from flipping through. Even though it was clear these poems weren’t written for you, the slightest implication that someone could think so highly of you had your head spinning. Before long, you were skimming the last marked page, barely able to catch your breath.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

A loud roar of Belphegor’s name shook you out of your love-stricken trance. Slamming the book shut as if you’d been caught doing something wrong, you listened to the hasty, angry footsteps of Satan right outside your door. The closer he got, you could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to contain his anger. “Where is that book? I know you were the last person in my room!”

Though the thought of being on the receiving end of Satan’s anger was enough to send you running, you slowly cracked open your door and peered out. Satan immediately whipped his head around to look at you, softening just a bit in an effort to let you know that you weren’t what he was after.

In a timid voice, you asked, “Which book would you happen to be looking for?”

“It was a collection of poems. You wouldn’t have happened to see it, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door all the way and held the book out to him. Snatching it out of your hands, Satan widened his eyes at the tabs. “Did you-”

“It was like that!” You defended. Satan realized you were jumpy and slowly inhaled, willing himself to calm down before you continued. “It was on my bed when I came home.”

With a gruff hum, Satan nodded at your explanation before flipping through the marked pages. “It’s alright, (Y/n). It’s not your fault. I’m positive Belphie was the one who took it since he was-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Satan flushed a deep red once he read which poems were marked to be read. “O-oh,” He murmured, pulling at his sweater collar and clearing his throat. “This is...these are pretty romantic, huh?”

“Well, it is a love poem collection,” You offered helpfully with a shrug. As if he didn’t believe you, Satan looked at the cover himself.

“I hope you didn’t mistake my intent. I didn’t mean for this book to end up in your care.”

“Ouch,” You hissed through your teeth. “Aren’t you a heartbreaker?”

Satan’s eyes widened before he furrowed his brows and backed a few steps away. “No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on his chest and shut his eyes as he scowled. “Thank you for returning it to me. Have a good day.”

Satan turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving you to chuckle at the empty space before retreating back to your room. On your bed, beneath where the book was, lay a green sticky note you had missed in the excitement. Picking it up, you saw a note scrawled in messy handwriting that made you question just how genuine these advances were.

I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Maybe if I borrow the words of others, you can finally know how I feel.

---

The pattern continued for a few days, with each brother falling victim to one of Belphie’s tricks. Each time, they managed to fluster themselves to impossible standards, aside from Asmo who insisted he never sent you that love letter and don’t you know how beautiful his handwriting is like the rest of him? Oh, but if a love letter was what you were after, he’d send mountains and mountains until you just couldn’t resist him anymore-

By that time, you had gently shut the door in his face and jogged back to your room, just as red as the rest of the brothers were when it was their time to be the victim. Belphegor even managed to send you an email with a fake account with a name so similar to Lucifer’s you almost didn’t catch the differences. By that time, you saw through his jokes and simply asked:

You: Really? An email? lvcifer.pride@dmail.com: What? He’s such a loser that I wouldn’t put it past him.

Even now, over a week since the last incident, Mammon was shouting in the hall as he kept running circles around himself, demanding Belphie to stop making advances on his human and to stop making him look like a fool. Without fail, Belphie always asked, “Oh? Is it foolish to think highly of the human?” Mammon was sent into a new frenzy every time.

By the time they were finished, you were exhausted just from listening to their incessant bickering. Mammon had scurried off, desperate to hide his embarrassment, while Belphie slumped down on the couch next to you and gave you a lazy grin. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to return it. The antics had to stop.

“I think you should stop using me as a tool to mess with your brothers,” You said, not yet unpausing the show you were watching before the fighting started. Belphie scrunched his face and looked at you without moving his head.

“No can do. It’s too fun to see how desperately they try to save your honor from themselves. Idiots.”

Cringing at the insult, you continued, “Okay, but can you stop with the love advances? It’s a bit...much.”

Finally moving, Belphie turned his head to give you a scrutinizing look you didn’t understand before relaxing back into the couch. “Sure,” He answered humorlessly, tone dry and brittle with what was, to you, misplaced disgust. “It was losing its charm anyway.”

Now he was sulking, and you had half a mind to press play and just ignore his bitter mood. Still, you didn’t mean to make him pout, even if you had no idea where it came from and therefore weren’t exactly responsible for the shift. Sighing, you turned your back on him and leaned back, moving so your head was resting on his slumped chest. Without sparing you a look, Belphie reached his slim finger up and slowly carded them through your hair, making no effort to comb any tangles and deciding to ruffle it instead.

“I would like to know what’s got you in such a sour mood,” You said bluntly, turning your head to watch Belphegor stare at the ceiling blankly. Other than the occasional slow blink, you would have thought he had fallen asleep with how long it took him to respond. You knew better than to think he was ignoring you - he was either thinking of an answer he was satisfied to give or teasing you, seeing how long you’d wait for him and then pointing out how much you must value what he has to say if you’d wait that long.

“You enjoyed it too much,” He finally said, keeping his gaze from yours.

“I enjoyed it?” You repeated, narrowing your eyes. “I can assure you, I enjoyed none of what happened.”

“The fighting, maybe,” He agreed. “But I heard you tell Levi you thought it’d be sweet if he had texted you. I saw your face when you thought the poems were from Satan.”

“You were there?” Trying to remember the scene with Satan, you ran a hand partially through your hair and rested your palm on your forehead.

“The love letter, the gift basket, everything- you enjoyed it before you realized it was fake.”

“Belphegor, where were you?” You asked, knowing he would ignore your question. How many other times had he been secretly watching you without your knowledge? The thought made you shiver.

Clearly disgruntled, Belphegor growled at your questions before rolling his eyes. “At first I was just messing with you, but I never would have guessed you would sooner take sweet nothings from the mouths of fools before you’d ever take the real deal from me when I offer it out to you.”

Blinking rapidly, you felt your face warm and your heartbeat stutter for the thousandth time this week. “You...you never offered me anything,” you answered dumbly. Displeasure flickered across Belphie’s face before he sighed again and slumped further down, forcing your head down with him.

“Of course I didn’t. The others did, but not me,” He replied in such a way that barely hid the frustration in his tone, but the irony he was lamenting was lost on you. Sitting up, you shifted to sit on your knees and bent over Belphie to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Belphie turned his head away, but you grabbed his cheeks and gently pulled them towards you so he could face you directly. “Belphie, tell me what you were trying to do.”

For a moment, Belphie wondered if he could just slump out of your grasp and lock himself back in the attic, clear by the pondering expression he wore on his face. You squished his face a little tighter, just enough to keep him in place and speak up. “I guess...I was hoping you would think the love letters and everything were from them and you’d reject them.” He looked to the side to avoid the pity you couldn’t hide on your face, his gaze unintentionally hardening. “Why didn’t you reject them? You should have rejected them.”

“I knew it wasn’t real! I was just trying to make them feel better,” You defended. Swiping your hand away from him, Belphie lifted himself up so he was sitting straight and crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. “Is this...is this your version of a confession?”

Though he did his best to maintain his glare, Belphie couldn’t fight the light pink that tinted his cheeks. “So what if it is?”

Thoroughly pleased with yourself, you sat back on your heels and pretended you needed to mull things over. His hair was covering his eye and he kept his head turned away from you, but you could feel Belphie’s pensive gaze on you as you made your decision. Grinning and leaning closer, you asked, “Is this another prank?”

You felt his cold hands on either side of your face before you even saw him move. He glowered at you with no heat, putting on an upset show. If anything, he was more upset that you insisted on teasing him when you were so nice to the others. “If you can look at me and say you think I’m pranking you right now, you really are just a stupid human.”

Your grin widened. “A stupid human you’d have no qualms about kissing, though, right?”

There was no need to answer you with words when showing you was much more enjoyable.

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics - (OC edition) - The Reception

Part 2 of the OC edition of the Tech story, again it's mostly the same just with more description and

Part 1 - The Wedding

Part 3 - The Honeymoon

Tech x Reader Edition

The Reception

So far so good. The wedding ceremony was done and all Ameidith had to do was keep an eye out during the reception. She and the boys… all dolled up and looking for bad guys. Yep… that’s all it was. Just work. Just… work. She was handed a glass of bubbling clear liquid and from the first sip she knew there was alcohol in it. Now… on the job was not a time for drinking. But even as she tried to pretend, one sip became two. Became three… became half a glass… and then she had a second glass. It was just part of the act of course. No other reason. She took another sip.

“Might want to slow down on those, Feisty.” Echo muttered beside her, making her jump slightly.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied as she cleared her throat. “If I didn’t have a sip occasionally people might get suspicious.”

“Occasional sip huh? Is that your fourth glass?” He smirked, scanning the guests carefully. Currently Hunter was by the bar, Crosshair had claimed a particularly comfortable spot of wall to lean on, Wrecker and Omega were walking around the outside perimeter… and Tech… she was painfully aware of the presence of the last member of the crew. He was behind her. She was thankful for that at least, that way she didn’t have to make more awkward eye contact.

“It’s only my second.” She huffed in reply. “I’m… not a fan of weddings.” No need to explain everything, in all honesty the boys didn’t know much about her, her past, her choices. They didn’t know why she became a bounty hunter at all, and hadn’t cared to ask. Though she knew they wondered, she’d seen the curious looks… no, it wasn’t that they didn’t dare to ask. They respected her enough not to. Maybe she’d tell them… about Lothal, about her home, her sister. But not today.

“Could have fooled me.” Echo let out a deep chuckle, leaning a little closer. she slowly turned to look at him, her brow twitching slightly.

“And what do you mean by that?” She asked quietly.

“Oh I don't know… she just seemed a little distracted earlier…” The red head felt him smirking without looking at him.

“You’re as bad as Hunter. There is nothing wrong with me, I am not distracted. Let’s just get this mission done and go home. Then I can drink as much as I want without you judging me.” She huffed and Echo just laughed.

“If you say so, Feisty.” He petted her shoulder as he turned away. Ameidith bristled, she knew Echo was looking out for her but… oh what would he know? She wasn’t staring during the ceremony. At anyone. Certainly not the gorgeous member of their crew in goggles. Nope. She wasn’t.

Gathering as much grace as she could muster, she swept past the dancefloor and out onto the balcony for some fresh air. It was growing late, and she was itching to head back to Ord Mantell, grab some Mantell Mix with Wrecker and Omega maybe. They’d allowed the red-headed bounty hunter to join them the last few times so she hoped they’d let her tag along again. She leant on the railing overlooking a wide garden, the place was stunning of course, but that didn’t mean the danger was gone. It was hard to feel battle ready in a dress like this, the entire back to the waist was transparent mesh, a line of buttons up her spine. A jewelled detail in the centre between her breasts and sweeping purple fabric trailed down to the toes of her heeled pumps. Her usually untameable red curls were pinned to one side of her head and hung over one shoulder, a far cry from the usual attempted updo she kept when she had to hide it under her helmet.

The sun was setting in the distance, and while she paid it little attention, the man now standing behind her was drinking in the way the golden light reflected off her hair. The way it set her hair aflame and kissed her freckled skin, with a warm touch he could only envy. The way the dress was cut to accentuate curves that were usually hidden under armour. The way the buttons trailed down her back like a path he yearned to follow.

“I--” He began but got nowhere before she turned. Her eyes widened suddenly. she’d recognised the voice even before she moved but instinct had taken hold. There was Tech, a few feet from her, looking ever so dashing in his suit and eyes that felt like they looked right through her. When did he get there? What was with that look on his face? She didn’t quite understand it.

“Oh… is-is there an update?” She stammered pathetically, she hadn’t been expecting to talk to him so soon. He blinked before seeming to snap back to attention.

“Erm… oh, yes.” He nodded and looked back to the comm device in his hand. He’d kept it in his coat this whole time, she guessed and came out to check without anyone noticing. “The signals have been rather steady through the evening, I am not picking up any disturbances along the outer perimeter.” He stepped over, now focused on the screen. Of course, there was no way that he wasn’t totally focused on the mission. As she ought to be as well. He had just been surprised she was out here. Her eyes were drawn to the screen as he pointed out the signal and a fluctuation he had been worried about, though it turned out to be a false alarm. She chuckled lightly and she saw him look up at her out of the corner of her eye.

“You always have everything under control, don’t you?” Ameidith murmured. How did he always seem so calm, so unaffected by everything? She tried to be like that, but her emotions slipped out too often.

“Not… everything.” He confessed. She looked up and instantly regretted it. The red head hadn’t realised how close she’d gotten when looking at the screen and now Tech and his stunning eyes the colour of warm leather were right there. Inches away from her soft freckled face.

“Wha-what do you mean?” She asked. Her eyes wandered his face, he looked flushed, and his lip was trembling. Her concern grew and she stood up fully, to step in front of him with a slight frown, both hands came up to cup his cheeks, he didn’t feel clammy. “Tech, are you okay?” She asked, green eyes flashing out of concern for him, she hadn’t seen him like this before. Was he ill?

“Of-of course-of course I am.” She leaned in closer, her eyes full of concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Meidi…” Now he sounded out of breath.

“You know I would be terribly upset if something happened to you.” There was a slight pause as he raised his free hand to hers against his face, a little bashful smile on his lips as he avoided eye contact.

“And I, you.” He replied. Her heart ached. He was so sweet. Her eyes lingered on him, the way he nervously flicked his gaze over her, the way his lip twitched slightly as though trying to suppress a smile. His skin was warm and though he was still flushed, he didn’t seem like he was in any pain or anything. Maybe he’d had a sip of the wine too?

Before she knew what was happening, the gap between the two of them grew smaller, her lashes fluttered against his cheek as her eyes closed, and her lips pressed to his slowly, gently. A kiss full of admiration and affection. His hand gripped hers a little more firmly and she felt her stomach tighten. Heat bloomed in the touch and it was like there was some music playing that only she could hear as his mouth moved against hers. She’d heard about fireworks when lovers kissed but she’d never felt it before… until now.

Suddenly a loud cheer from inside the ballroom startled the two of them apart. Apparently the wedding guests were partaking in another toast. That's right. The wedding. The mission. She was meant to be paying attention. Not out here kissing one of her squadmates. Wait. Oh no. She kissed Tech. She kissed Tech! No no no! This was unprofessional! This was wrong! She wasn't supposed to do this with colleagues, it was dangerous to get involved. Not only that, Tech never asked for this, probably didn’t want this. He stood there with wide eyes, looking as horrified as she felt. All these thoughts slammed through her mind in a second before she tore sherself away.

“I’m sorry…!” She gasped, it was a weak apology. She felt a little dirty, there was no way he would have wanted that, not really. She’d just surprised him before he had the chance to push her away. No no no! This was not how things were supposed to happen!

A quick stop to the refresher to make sure she didn’t look dishevelled or out of place and she was back to work. She buried the awkward encounter and decided to pretend it never happened. This was going to be a long night.

Tags:@stupidbitchesenterprise @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick @belladonnaeyes @theroguesully @1fineslytherin @ashotofspotchka @sunipostsstuff @shuttlelauncher81 @cosmicsierra @two-black-leviathans

Join the taglist here, and lmk if you do not wanna be tagged. Love ya!

[btxtreads]

💫 Shot in the Dark 💫

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: INTERMISSION

↳ Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x Reader

↳ word count: 2.2k words

↳ rating: PG

↳ genre: fluff, angst

↳ warnings: cheating, break-up (?)

Y/N was just finished the last touch-ups on her hair when the doorbell rang.

She stumbled out the guest room, peeking her head out the door to see Soobin poke his head out from the kitchen.

“Is that him?” He asked, eyes wide as he slammed his freshly opened can of coke on the counter.

Yeonjun rushed out of his bedroom, wide-eyed as Soobin fumbled over to the door and opening it with narrow eyes.

“Hello,” he greeted slowly to a wide-eyed Beomgyu.

“Soobin-hyung?” Beomgyu asked, eyes darting all around the manor. “This is—You live here?”

“You’re late,” is all Soobin replied with. “You said 8 PM,”

“Traffic,” was all Beomgyu could say.

“Bin, lay off,” Yeonjun snorted as he leaned on the staircase. “This is my manor, but yeah they sort of live here, too, I guess,”

Beomgyu gulped as Yeonjun urged him in.

Soobin narrowed his eyes at Beomgyu one more time, adjusting his tuxedo coat before wandering back to the guestroom—where Y/N was.

“He’s a little wary of you,” Yeonjun informed as he reached the boy by the stairwell, patting his shoulders. “but you already know that,”

“I mean no harm,”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Yeonjun hummed. “They never do,”

Soobin slammed the guest room door open, his groans of pain loudly ringing around the area.

“Ah, let go—Ow!”

“That’s for being mean,” a familiar voice scolded.

Beomgyu looked up to see her—clothed in the prettiest lavender dress that seems to fall around her body like waves.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves.

Her soft lips were pouting as she released Soobin’s ear, head snapping over to the boy at the bottom of the staircase.

“What was it this time?” Yeonjun rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“I called Beomgyu a wasted sperm ce—“

“Soobin, shut up,” Y/N hissed as she pulled on his arm, descending down the stairs. “Beomgyu, hi.”

“This is for you,” Beomgyu cleared his throat, ignoring the suspicious glances from Soobin and Yeonjun as he thrusted the bouquet in his hands.

“Sunflowers?” Yeonjun hummed, tone challenging. “That’s not her favorite flower.”

“No,” Beomgyu cleared his throat. “But, uh, that was what I got her on our first date,”

Soobin raised his eyebrows in interest as Yeonjun nodded, impressed.

“You remembered,” Y/N said, surprised as she took the bouquet.

“I always will,”

Yeonjun nudged a zoned-out Soobin next to him as Y/N blushed, making the taller boy snap into attention.

“I think we should go,” Soobin said, checking his watch as Yeonjun softly tugged the bouquet out of Y/N’s hands and plopped it into a nearby vase. “We’re late,”

“I’ve got a lime for us,” Beomgyu offered his arm out to Y/N with a smile. “Do you want to come with, hyungs?”

“Nah,” Yeonjun shook his head and pulled out his car keys. “Soobin’s driving my Lamborghini,”

“I’m like your glorified driver,” Soobin huffed as he snatched the keys from Yeonjun and marched out of the house.

“You love driving my Lamborghini!” Yeonjun called as he followed Soobin.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way.” Beomgyu said as soon as both boys were out of hearing range and arguing over by the Lamborghini, making the girl next to him jump.

Y/N turned to him, smiling softly.

“I—you, too,”

Beomgyu chuckled at the flustered girl.

“Let’s go?”

“Okay,”

Beomgyu wasn’t hers the whole night, she already knew.

The boy had to take a few photos with her and mingle with his associates—it was a company gala after all.

A quick glance around the venue would show her all four of her dateless friends (despite Yeonjun claiming that he was ‘Soobin’s eye-candy sugar daddy for the night’) frolicking around.

Yeonjun and Soobin made it their living mission to taste-test all the dishes in the buffet table, while Hueningkai was busy playing a game on his phone.

Taehyun was talking to a close associate somewhere nearby.

With that being said, Y/N found herself leaning on one of the terraces away from the event—hand clutching a wine glass.

“Sorry that took some time,” a voice greeted, making her smile. “I had to talk to some people that are interested in making some deals with the company—you know how it goes,”

“That’s fine, that’s what this gala is for,” Y/N smiled, sipping the glass in her hands.

“Merlot?”

“You didn’t have anything I liked,” Y/N shrugged, turning around to see Beomgyu with raised eyebrows—carrying two glasses of whiskey.

“What about these?”

“Well, that I prefer more,” Y/N laughed, setting her wine glass on a nearby coffee table and taking the glass from the boy.

She watched as he leaned back on the terrace right next to her, eyes watching the traffic pass by.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Beomgyu said, sparing her a quick smile.

“Anything for a friend,”

Beomgyu was silent at this remark, fumbling with the cup in his hands.

“Hey,”

“Hm?”

“I really didn’t cheat on you,” Beomgyu said, locking gazes with the girl. “Please believe me,”

“Beomgyu, it was five years—“

“I need you to believe me,” Beomgyu spoke, sighing. “It was—everything was a set-up. I couldn’t do anything, even until now,”

Y/N let the silence envelop her after Beomgyu’s reveal—eyes following the twinkling lights of the traffic below.

Y/N cleared her throat looking up at him.

“Until now?”

“It’s arranged, Y/N. I never liked Eunbi,” Beomgyu sighed. “I couldn’t say no. Next thing I knew—we were dating, you broke up with me, we were having sex, we were getting photographed in public, we were engaged—It all happened so fast,”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

“Sex doesn’t happen just out of the blue, Gyuu—“

“I was sad and drunk—I just lost you,” Beomgyu explained.

“Well, those dates and that proposal wasn’t an accident—“

“I already lost you, what else did I have to lose?” Beomgyu sighed.

Y/N closed her eyes, breathing out softly as she listened to her rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I—“

“I never wanted to leave—it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I still have your photo in my room,” Beomgyu confessed. “This—it’s just what my family wanted—“

“Then why did you leave?” Y/N asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Because you were so big on family—I thought it was what you would have wanted!”

“I loved you, why would I want you to leave?” Y/N argued back, frowning at the boy.

Beomgyu shook his head as he took another sip of the alcohol in his glass.

“I—It’s okay, it was the right decision anyway. I would only be a burden to you,” He mumbled.

“You wouldn’t have,” Y/N mumbled softly.

“The press was getting wind of me, especially when my brother decided he’d rather be a lawyer instead of a businessman,” Beomgyu snorted as he recalled.  “I was suddenly shot into the spotlight—I couldn’t just let the press ruin you because of me,”

Y/N reached out, letting her hand rest on his as she willed her heart to calm down as they locked gazes.

“I would have been fine if I was with you,” Y/N said, sighing at Beomgyu’s sad gaze.

“I loved you,” Beomgyu confessed. “I think I still do,”

Y/N smiled sadly.

“I know,”

“Can I kiss you?” Beomgyu suddenly asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down on his alcohol glass. “J-Just tonight, I just want to feel like you’re mine again,”

“Gyuu,” Y/N said, furrowing her eyebrows and setting down her own glass. “You’re drunk,”

“Maybe,” Beomgyu hummed, narrowing his eyes on his glass. “Or maybe, I’m not drunk enough,”

“What?”

The boy raised his glass to his lips, tipping his head back and finishing the alcohol down in one gulp.

Y/N’s eyes widened as the boy slammed the glass down on the table, wincing at the burning sensation of the alcohol and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Gyuu—“

The boy reached out, hands grasping her hips tightly as he swooped down to crash his lips on hers.

Y/N gasped in surprised, freezing as she felt his lips back on hers for the very first time in five years.

Beomgyu pulled away, whimpering softly as he leaned his forehead on hers.

“Please,” He whispered. “Say—do something,”

Y/N stopped for a second, hand resting on his shoulder.

“Beomgyu,”

“Please,”

Y/N bit her lip, letting all her inhibitions escape as she closed her eyes and leaned her head up to kiss him back.

She let her hands snake around his neck and entangle in his hair as she felt Beomgyu’s lips glide smoothly on hers.

Just like it used to.

Just like it was supposed to.

As Beomgyu’s grip on her hips moved to her waist, Y/N heard a few clicks on the floor that sounded so familiar.

Almost like platform shoes.

Immediately, she can feel something dumped on her head—the smell of red wine strong as it dripped down her head.

Beomgyu flinched as Y/N pushed him away, suprised but still gripping on her waist.

“Y/N?” He gasped in surprise as he saw the red liquid drip down her head.

“You cheating bitches,” Eunbi hissed as she slammed the finished wine glass in her hands into the hands of a nearby person—a wide-eyed Kai that just happened to wander by.

Y/N’s eyes locked with the tall boy’s, silently asking for help.

The boy immediately turned and called for Soobin and Yeonjun as Eunbi stalked towards Y/N and Beomgyu.

“Eunbi—“ Beomgyu started, stopping short when Eunbi’s hand flew across his cheek.

“Gyuu—“ Y/N said, stopping when Eunbi turned to her.

“I should have known this was your plan all along, you desperate slut,”

“Slut?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have kissed him tonight—my mistake,”

Yeonjun, Soobin, Taehyun and Kai arrived—stopping by the doorway.

Yeonjun blinked in surprise as Y/N held her hand out to pause him in his tracks, eyes narrowing over at Eunbi.

“However, Ms. Song, you don’t get to act like a saint—you were blatantly cheating on Beomgyu in the Bahamas for months—“

“This isn’t about me,” Eunbi hissed.

“Oh, so it’s only about you when it benefits you?” Y/N shot back, making Soobin wince in faux offense.

Yeonjun elbowed Soobin as Beomgyu shot his head over to them, shaking himself out of his haze as he finally stepped forward to gently grasp Eunbi’s arm.

“Eunbi, calm down and let’s—“

“No!” Eunbi shrieked as she pushed his hand off. “Y/N is fired. Today,”

“You can’t do that,” Beomgyu said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yes, I can,”

“No, you can’t,” Y/N challenged, crossing his arms. “You’re not my boss—Beomgyu is,”

“I’m Beomgyu’s fiance,” Eunbi challenged, making Y/N clench her fist.

“I’m leaving if Beomgyu tells me to,” Y/N said with a firm tone, turning over to the boy beside him. “but if you do you have to know that I’m really giving up on you,”

Beomgyu furrowed his eyebrows as he wracked his brain for a decision.

“Beomgyu,” Eunbi said in an irritated tone. “Fire her—now—and I’m not telling your parents,”

Beomgyu opened and closed his mouth indecisively, his eyes flying back and forth between Y/N and Eunbi.

Y/N only bit her lip as Eunbi continued to rant.

“Im your fiancé, Beomgyu,” Eubi hissed. “Would you really dump your fiancé, the girl your parents want you to marry—who knows the industry and you since you were a child—for this lowlife peasant?”

Beomgyu closed his eyes, sighing.

“Gyuu?” Y/N asked softly as the boy opened his eyes, giving her a pleading gaze.

“Y/N, can we talk alone?” Beomgyu stuttered.

Immediately, the girl’s demeanor changed—her fists unclenched as her eyes lost all determination.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t decide right away. I—“

“I’ll decide for you,” Y/N mumbled softly as she straightened out her dress. “I quit,”

Beomgyu’s eyes flew over to her in surprise as she stood up straight and shot him a small nod.

“I’ll have my resignation files forwarded to you within the week,”

“Y/N?”

The girl kept her head up, biting her lip and holding her head up.

Eunbi’s glare followed the girl, who promptly ignored her furious gaze.

Yeonjun stumbled forward, hands reaching out immediately to Y/N as he shot Beomgyu the darkest gaze he could muster.

Soobin’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, mumbling out a silent words of comfort as he glared over at Beomgyu.

“Wait—Y/N, Soobin-hyung, Yeonjun-hyung—“ Beomgyu started, stopping short when Soobin stopped and turned back.

“Fuck off,” Soobin hissed darkly.

Soobin, the nicest hyung he’s ever met, just told him to fuck off.

Yeonjun only ignored Beomgyu, turning over to Kai with Y/N in his arms.

“We’re going home,”

And just like that, Beomgyu felt his final intermission with Y/N finish as the curtains close between him and her for the last time.

[dalish-spectre]

Trust the abyss - a Baldur's Gate 3 backstory. Ch. 4 Haunting riffs of a vazhan-do pierced the air accompanied by the sharp vocals of a deathsinger – drow bards whose vocals could command the undead if they so chose.

Tonight, however, this vocalist was entertaining rowdy crowds of guards from the various noble houses of Menzoberranzan at a tavern located on the fringes of the bazaar.

It was called the Jewel Box and Dinin had never been anywhere like it before.

He had never been this drunk before either.

Kelzt and Masryn had insisted on dragging him out of House Darketh’s perimeters and into the noisy crowded streets of the heart of the spider city.

Before House Do’Urden fell, the former elder-boy had only visited the bazaar on rare occasions when his Matron Mother had required him to. He had never been permitted to drink. Even after joining Bregan D’aerthe, he had only ever indulged in a few drinks with the band’s leader Jarlaxle. He preferred to keep his mind sharp and sober but going undercover as a guard within Darketh, his first mission as a houseless rogue, he was expected to play the part.

It would be suspicious if he refused to drink with the two guards that had decided to befriend him.

He didn’t know how much algae ale they’d be able to polish back.

So here he was, five ales deep, being dragged into a brothel by two drow he hardly knew.

“Don’t scowl so much, Dinyrr, you’ll scare the whores away,” laughed Kelzt as they’d stepped through the door. “I’d say a brush with death is a perfect reason to wet one’s blade somewhere other than the belly of a hook horror.”

Masryn chortled from beside him. “Maybe that’s what he wants – have you ever been to a whorehouse before? I’ve heard Gracklestugh has several.”

“I’ve no need of whorehouses,” Dinin replied coolly as they took a seat at a stalagmite table, the alcohol softened the usual edge of his voice.

Kelzt’s own laugh reverberated through the cavern as he motioned a serving slave over.

“We’ll take a bottle of sul-paga here,” he said to an older dwarven woman who had been around long enough to not bother flashing her eyes in an alluring manner. She simply nodded and wandered back towards the bar.

The Jewel Box was filled with tables made of stalagmites, twisting upwards with slate tops. Stone benches on either side accommodated guests who wanted to sit.

It was lit by faerie fire, candles and glowing blue fungi wound its way around various stalactites that protruded down from the ceiling giving the place a very ethereal feel.

Kelzt rubbed his hands together as he looked around the room.

“We got here just in time,” he said. “Narbondel has only just died and that means the artists will be coming down soon.”

Dinin cocked an eyebrow.

“Artists?” He tried not to roll his eyes. “Why are they called artists?”

Masryn snorted.

“Why do you think? They are trained in the arts of sexual pleasure,” the young drow emphasized the first part of the word for effect, waggling his white brows up and down.

Dinin ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair anxiously. He needed another drink.

His hopes were soon answered as the dwarven woman returned with three glasses and a large bottle of sul-paga.

The crisp, distilled scent of the alcohol pricked the hairs up on the back of his neck as he watched Kelzt pour the clear liquid into his cup.

Masryn drank his own glass deeply, scrunching his face up. Dinin had only drank wine when he lived in House Do’Urden and he tried desperately not to make a face as the sul-paga burned his throat on the way down.

Sputtering, he wiped a gloved hand across his lips.

Kelzt watched the two younger drow, mirth shining in his dark red eyes as he casually sipped his own drink.

“Ah, youth rushes into everything – sul paga is to sip lads, it is made of the finest sul roots this side of the Underdark.”

The music took a frantic toll as the singer began the first verses of the beginning of Tornan’s Guts – a common song in Menzoberrazan though Dinin was not familiar with the words.

Chants and hymns to Lloth were all he knew of music. He found his foot tapping to the rhythm of the vahzan-do while a table next to them burst out singing loudly and offkey.

O’ Tornan was a great warrior indeed

The greatest warrior did Menzoberranzan ever see

A bell rang out above the singing, Dinin followed Masryn and Kelzt’s gaze at it shifted towards a staircase at the back of the room.

He took another swig of sul-paga as he watched silk-clad figures make their way down the stairs and mingle with the tables.

Much to Dinin’s dismay, his scowl did not in fact keep the whores away.

A surface elf slave with long red hair twined her way over to their table and sat down beside Masryn.

The last time he had been this close to a surface elf, he had inadvertently witnessed his family’s doom as his brother failed to please Lloth by killing one.

She spoke Undercommon quite well, he supposed, but he could not bring himself to find her attractive.

Masryn however had fallen under the enchantment of her tinkling laughter. She clutched a glass of dark liquor in one hand and used the other to brush away a strand of hair from the younger drow’s face.

“I personally don’t understand the appeal,” said Kelzt, watching the surface elf lead Masryn from the table. “Our young friend however appears to have a liking for pale flesh albeit a sadistic pleasure – here, anything goes as long as you don’t mark their faces.

It’s a pleasure house yes but it’s also a place where men are freely allowed to take out any emotion on a female.”

Dinin scoffed, “Surface females don’t matter.”

“Aye but it’s not just surface females here – there are drow ones as well, low-cast but drow,” Kelzt replied. “Master Dro pays a pretty penny to the council to keep the place in operation.”

The older drow explained how he thought the Matron Mother’s figured if there was a place the common guards could blow off steam it would make them more pliable.

“I’ve heard from our weapons master himself that Matron of Darketh pays the tab here for us idiots to keep us in line,” he continued. “If keeping me in line means all the paga and ale I can drink and a warm place to lay my cock then I’m all for it.”

“I could think of worse things I suppose,” Dinin swirled the clear liquid in his glass pensively. He watched a human female take off her top across the room with mild interest. Peals of laughter rang out from behind their table as a slender male drow clothed in a silk robe poured wine down a guard’s throat.

“It appears they cater to all tastes here,” He shifted in his seat to face Kelzt again. The alcohol was making his face warm or was it the atmosphere which was becoming slowly more debaucherous.

Kelzt nodded his head and took another drink.

He stole a priestess’s virginity

The scandalous line of Tornan’s Guts rang out above the din. Some of the crowd cheered and Dinin glanced over his shoulder, fearing the sting of a snake-headed whip.

Feeling none, the tension in his shoulders released. Old habits died hard.

For this Lloth could not forget

Tornan would have to pay his debt

She put a toll upon his soul

Kelzt had begun to sing along, periodically punching the air with the hand holding his glass, grinning.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dinin’s lip as he watched the merrymaking a scene quite unfamiliar to him.

“Don’t you find it kind of funny that we’re singing a song about a man who was killed for defiling a woman at a place where men come to defile women?” Dinin asked, raising his voice over the chaos.

Kelzt laughed.

“The irony is not lost on me, young one.”

Suddenly a young male slid in between the two of them.

“Why Kelzt, I thought you had forgotten me,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth. His head was shaved on either side leaving a disheveled white strip of hair – black orbs for eyes that glittered in the candlelight of the table.

Dinin begrudgingly shifted to make room for Kelzt’s friend. The boy had a pleasing enough face and a cocky air about him.

“Ah, Naxir, how could I forget about you, you bring an old warrior so much joy,” Kelzt slid his arm around the younger drow.

“Such sweet words,” Naxir laughed and turned to fix Dinin in his stare. “Hello, who is this treat? Will he be joining us this evening?”

Kelzt laughed and shook his head while Dinin felt his cheeks burn. It had been sometime since he had indulged in the carnal pleasures of flesh and while Naxir was attractive, the thought of seeing the older soldier rutting didn’t interest him at all.

“I think I’ll pass this time,” he poured himself another drink and let his gaze wander as he halfheartedly listened to the old warrior flirt with the handsome young drow.

Tornan’s Guts had ended, and the bard seemed to be taking the crowd in the direction of a sensual macabre tune.

A familiar laugh rang out and Dinin noticed Taztar, the patrol leader of his squad, sitting two tables to the side of them with some other guards from House Darketh.

A slender figure in a short, flowing red dress was gyrating before them, unbound hair illuminated by faerie fire.

“Come closer, girl,” he heard Taztar growl and watched as the girl obeyed. Her skin was not as dark as Dinin’s and as she moved closer to the candlelit table, he could tell her hair was a dark silvery colour.

Suddenly one of the guards’ arms shot out and poured a mug of ale over her head. “Get out of here half-breed, you can tell Dro that I want the real drow tonight.”

Laughter exploded from the table as Taztar said, “We all want a real drow tonight lads.”

Dinin watched intently as the girl’s hand clenched at her side, the shocked look on her face quickly replaced by anger and she swung her fist, a soft thud as it connected with the guard’s face. Just as quickly as it happened, Taztar reached out and grabbed the girls arm and pulled her in roughly.

He couldn’t make out what the patrol leader said before shoving the girl backwards.

Impressed, he watched as she strode toward his table, delicate brows furrowed as she fought to keep a smile on her face.

As she passed, he found himself drawn to her – her delicate features belaying the scowl she was trying not to show.

He watched her enter a door near the back and come back out again with a white-haired female drow. They parted and for a moment he watched the new girl saunter over to Taztar’s table.

It was then he realized that Kelzt and his friend had left him alone. At least they had left him the bottle, but he cursed as he went to pour himself a drink.

What in the hells was he going to do now, wait for them to finish rutting?

Sipping his drink, he glanced about for the girl with the dark hair again when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He was mortified to see it was her.

“You’re staring at me.” Her voice was terse. “Do you see something that you like?”

Her arms were crossed causing the curves of her breast to peek up from the low cut of her dress.

“Yes – I mean, no, I’m not here to …” His words caught on his tongue as she glared at him.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say at first.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that I’m not like they,” he said. “And I’m not here looking for sex.”

“Let me guess, you probably have no problem picking up women – or men, whichever you prefer,” the girl sat down beside him and propped her cheek up with her hand.

Her eyes swept him up and down, assessing him. He leaned back in his seat fixing her with his own cool stare.

“Whichever I prefer depends on many things – why did you punch that guard, surely you’re lucky to not be injured,” he asked, truly curious.

To his surprise, she laughed, a strange melodic chuckle that made him want to laugh with her though he knew not why – probably the blasted sul-paga Kelzt had fed him.

Still he poured himself and the girl a glass.

“Hrazzra is an idiot, he comes here every tenday, my master hates him, but he likes Taztar’s money,” the girl paused, accepting the glass of liquor. “Besides, Taztar will make me pay for it later but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.

“The trick is to make yourself numb and you don’t feel anything anymore.”

She emptied the glass with one smooth gulp without making a face. Dinin followed suit but was unable to keep the look of disgust off his face over the taste of the alcohol.

The girl laughed again.

“I prefer the taste of mushroom wine if I’m being perfectly honest,” he chuckled. “This stuff tastes like how the cleaners smell.”

“Mushroom wine – you have rich tastes for a common soldier.”

The alcohol had loosened his guard and he cursed himself inwardly.

“I have only been so fortunate that my former master would allow me wine after a victory in the slave pits of Graklestugh,” he attempted damage control, and briefly explained his backstory to the girl who watched his eyes intently as he told of how he was fortunate to be sold to House Darketh of Menzoberranzan.

“Well, former melee master of Gracklestugh, I bet I can find us some mushroom wine, stay where you are.”

The music remained at a mournful pace as she picked her way through the crowd towards the bar where the older dwarven lady polished the too-smooth slate.

It had been hours since Narbondel died and the number of patrons in the bar seemed to be getting less and less.

Dinin looked over to see that another surface elf had joined the white-haired drow girl at the patrol leader’s table. Only Taztar and two other soldiers remained and were tossing coins at the girls as they writhed on one another atop the stalagmite table.

“Noril and Alunira are very beautiful aren’t they,” Dinin almost jumped as the girl whispered in his ear, sitting back down beside him.

He turned to look at her and noticed she was grinning holding two large bottles of mushroom wine.

“I don’t have any fancy glasses, ussta zhennu sargitlan, but this is not a fancy place, we could drink it right from the bottle if we wished.” To emphasize her point, she uncorked a bottle and drank deeply, a little drip of liquid glowed green as it spilled from the corner of her lips.

He tried to hide the grin as she playfully called him my great warrior in high drow. For a slave, she was brazen and he found he liked talking to her.

“High drow, that’s an awfully rich language for a common slave,” he said, taking a swig of the wine, feeling almost sacrilegious drinking it straight from the bottle.

Her laugh was infectious as she snagged the bottle back from him, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

She brought the tip of the bottle playfully to her lips before drinking then leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe we both have … secrets,” her lips grazed his earlobe as she pulled away and offered him the wine coyly.

Flustered but intrigued, he changed the topic to mushroom wine and how it wasn’t as noble a drink as one might think as it was fermented from the most common fungi but as he was trying to cover up that the wine was made from mushrooms that had never seen any form of light, it was a highly arduous process, and she was nodding as if she believed him even though her eyes told him she didn’t, Taztar stumbled over to their table.

His breath reeked of ale.

“Ah, Dinyrr, I never expected to see you here – I didn’t know the house paid for slave soldiers to drink and fuck,” he slurred as he stood over them. “I see you’ve met my girl – Tavari – she may be a half-bred but she’s quite beautiful to look at.”

He gruffly grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her gaze steeled over.

“Yes patrol leader, she’s quite nice,” Dinin forced himself to play his part, as this common man’s lesser when he could easily slice out Taztar’s tongue and present it to Jarlaxle.

“Indeed she is and I think she’s quite done talking with you – it’s time for her to repay her folly in punching Hrazzra, don’t you think?

"We’ll take that extra bottle of mushroom wine as well, Tavari will need the extra help tonight.”

He made a show of knocking over the almost empty bottle they had been sharing. Dinin ground his teeth.

“Come girl,” he wrenched her up from her seat. Her face paled in the candlelight, she looked disheartened.

Suddenly, Dinin rose from his seat and grabbed Taztar by the shoulder.

“The girl stays with me,” he said, the alcohol he consumed wouldn’t allow the slight of this mere man – this third patrol leader of the 35th house of Menzoberranzan taking away his enjoyment.

The bard, whose interest had been piqued by the exchange began to play a new tune he had been commissioned to write. A song that would surely get the males blood up as it told the tale of the destruction of a noble house.

The fall of House Do’Urden.

Taztar laughed and shrugged off Dinin’s hand.

“I’ll have you killed,” he sneered, not letting go of the girl’s wrist.

As the singer began to sing of Lloth forsaking a once ancient and noble house, Dinin noticed the words of the song, speaking of Zin-Carla, Malice’s folly and a wayward son.

“The girl is with me tonight,” he growled., stepping in front of of the solider.

“Are you stupid? Did you hear what I said – I’ll have you killed and if not, the weapons master will have you sacrificed to Lloth for breaking the chain of command,” Taztar replied, dropping the girl’s hand and clenching his own into a fist.

Their faces were inches from each other, Dinin breathed heavily, egged on by the song.

“You’re nothing – you worthless,” Taztar’s slew of insults were cut short by the crack of Dinin’s fist against his jaw.

The thicker drow swung back catching Dinin in the lip, splitting it open. He tried to grab Dinin but the former master of melee magthere’s reflexes were quick as he swept to the side. He wasn’t a fist fighter as some were but his swift blows fueled by alcohol and rage were enough to fell the shorter drow to the ground.

The bard remained impassive and kept singing. Those left sitting around the tables cheered and promptly resumed drinking.  Dinin’s heart was pounding. How dare there be a song about the fall of Do’Urden. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. He had potentially blown his cover for his mission. What would Jarlaxle do to him? He opened his eyes to see the girl, whose name was Tavari, stand up from kneeling over the prone form of Taztar. Her fingertips looked for a second as if they had glowed.

“Come with me,” she said, picking up the bottle of wine from the ground.

She grabbed his hand, he jolted back to reality at the physical touch.

“Taztar won’t remember anything,” she assured him as she led him up the stairs. “But, let’s get out of here before Master Dro sees him on the floor.”

“You really knocked him out,” the girl giggled as she led him past rooms filled with moans. He followed her down a dark windowless hallway, lit sporadically by candles.

She opened the door to the last room on the left, lit a candle – did she use a match? Dinin wasn’t sure. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the alcohol was beginning to make him feel a little nauseous.

“Thank you for what you did back there, by the way, Taztar is awful, I hate him,” she crossed her legs as she sat down on the bed.

“I can assure you from working with him that I hate him as well. He allowed half of our latest patrol to be slaughtered by hook horrors,” Dinin replied, sitting beside the girl on the thin mattress. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves, my name is Din-in-yrrr.” He almost stumbled out his real name. “Dinyrr, it’s Dinyrr. My apologies, I don’t usually drink this much.” He was embarrassed to note that he was almost slurring his own words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Din-nin-yrr, my name is Tavari and I am always drunk,” the girl chuckled but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes.

“Just Dinyrr is fine, and you shouldn’t drink so much, it’s not good for the mind. A mind like yours is only diminished by liquor,” he sloppily scolded her.

“That’s very sweet,” she replied. “Now, you have me up here – you said I’m yours tonight, what would you wish of me?”

She began to slide off the thin red fabric that barely covered her lithe form, but Dinin stopped her muttering shhh.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. “Let’s just finish this troublesome bottle of wine.”

He helped pull the dress back over her head. The girl, Tavari looked shocked then laughed, deep from her soul, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He couldn’t help but join her – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.

“What do you want to just talk?” She asked playfully. “I’ve never had a man nor woman ever buy me just to talk. It’s not normal.”

“I’m not normal,” he replied slurrishly, with a grin passing her back the bottle of wine.

She nodded her agreement.

“What do you want to talk about?”  She shifted closer to him, propping her cheek on her hand as she had earlier that night.

“Memories,” he replied, looking out the window, the streets of the bazaar were quiet this deep into Narbondel’s death.

“Good or bad,” she asked.

“Are there such things as good memories?” He countered, turning to look back at her again with a wry smile.

“Not really,” she shrugged.

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth, each sharing their own cryptic stories, edging towards truths they could never share with one another.

The last thing Dinin’s half-blurred vision noted as the two laid facing each other on the threadbare mattress was the colour of her eyes as Narbondel’s first light filtered through the small window.

Orange, like the flame of a candle. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33301066/chapters/84017953

[itshalza]

The Egg Has to Go

I wrote this a while ago and it's kind of irrelevant now, but this was my headcanon of how the red banquet could have gone. Obvious canon divergence. Just Foolish having main character energy

!! Content Warning: implied drugging?, manipulation, brainwashing, zombie like imagery, mild depictions of violence, has hbomb in it (again this was written like, the week of the banquet before anything happened)

Summary: Foolish quickly realizes that the Red Banquet is not what it seems.

Foolish entered the grand hall that Bad and Ant had built for the Red Banquet. The event was beginning to be well known throughout the smp, and Foolish had accepted his invite on a whim, expecting to be able to put an end to the egg then. Oh, how he was wrong. He was running late as his duties at the temple took him a little longer than expected. But he was here now, quietly mingling with Niki and H. He absent-mindedly tightened his tie as Bad lightly tapped his silverware on his glass.

The clink of the dinnerware got everyone to quiet down and their attention on Bad. "I'd like to propose a toast. To a new era of peace on the server." He called out, raising his glass in the air. Everyone followed suit, Foolish only doing so half-heartedly as to not draw attention. The crowd in the room called out cheers before taking a drink from the glasses.

The liquid in the glass was.... strange. It was a deep red. Much.... much deeper than any wine Foolish had ever seen. Considering that, and the fact he was still suspicious of how he witnessed Bad and the others celebrate over Tommy's death, he didn't drink it. He raised the glass to his lips, tilting it to act like he was taking a sip when in reality his lips were sealed tight. He lowered the glass without a word, trying to ignore the feeling that someone was watching him.

That's when HBomb's words snapped him back to reality. "Uhh overworld to Foolish?" He said, moving to get himself in the totems field of vision.

Foolish shook his head slightly, blinking a few times. "I- what?" He asked, looking over at his 'manager.'

"What has gotten into you tonight?" Niki asked. Her tone was light, but Foolish knew there was genuine concern in her words as well.

Foolish hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. Just have a bad feeling about tonight, I guess." He scanned the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He didn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.

“Loosen up a bit, man. Tonight’s supposed to be fun, so let it be.” H said with a grin, leaning back in his seat and taking another drink from the glass.

Foolish didn’t respond to the words. He looked around again before standing up from his seat. “I’m gonna go look at the buffet, I’m starving.” He said, his tone returning to its usual lightheartedness, but it was completely fabricated. He didn’t want his friends to worry about him, but he really didn’t feel right about this whole thing. It was a little too… perfect.

He made his way up to the table lined with food, weaving through the crowd muttering short apologies as he went. He grabbed a plate and began looking over the options. He went to reach for the serving spoon for the mushroom stew before getting startled by Bad’s voice.

“So are you enjoying yourself, Foolish?” Bad said lightly. Foolish jumped slightly, letting go of the spoon and cringing at the clatter it made.

It was obvious that the friendly attitude that Bad displayed was a front. Foolish and Bad had been at each other's' throats over the Egg multiple times. The two were hardly even acquaintances. Their first interaction was rather neutral, sure, but the last couple of weeks Foolish has witnessed a turn. It wasn’t Bad’s fault of course; the Egg was only manipulating him to do its dirty work. But that didn’t mean Foolish had to like him either.

“Uh yeah! I’m doing okay, all things considered.” He said, putting up a similar front. He didn’t want Bad to suspect anything, although if Bad had come over to talk to him, he obviously knew something was up. “What would you recommend from the selection? There’s too much up here for me to decide.” He asked, a light laugh coming from him.

Bad hummed in amusement. “I’d say you made the right choice with the stew.” He mused. He watched Foolish nod and begin serving himself a helping of the stew.

“Oh Foolish, by the way, I’d love to get your opinion on the wine! You’ve been around a while so I’d assume you’d know a thing or two about good wine.” Bad asked. If Foolish hadn’t known better, he would have assumed that Bad was being genuine. Something was definitely wrong with the wine. What it was, Foolish didn’t know. But he knew one thing: he absolutely was not going to drink it.

Here’s the problem. Foolish didn’t know anything about wine. He needed a clear head while guarding the temple so he avoided alcohol as a whole. He really had no idea what to say about it, but he knew he had to come up with something quick.

He looked the demon up and down before replying. “Yeah it was good. Probably not the best I’ve ever had, but it definitely was up there. It had good… earthy undertones,” he said, hesitating slightly.

Bad hummed slightly, as if he knew that Foolish was bluffing. “I see. Well I’m glad that it’s enjoyable. It cost Ponk an arm and a leg to get the cask from a village due south. And you know, he’s already down an arm,” Bad said, giggling softly at his own joke.

Foolish laughed too, a slight hint of nervousness behind it. Foolish looked down at his dish of stew before back up at Bad. “Well, I’m gonna head back to Niki and H, I don’t want to keep them waiting.” He said sheepishly.

“I’ll see you later then, Foolish. Bad said, grinning and walking away, still laughing at his joke. Though once he was out of earshot of the totem, he grumbled lightly. “Why does he constantly have to ruin my plans?” he muttered before going to find Antfrost or Punz to ask them what they should do.

Foolish made his way back to the table, trying to mask his growing anxiety about this whole situation. Something was wrong here, and he wanted nothing more than to leave and go back to the temple.

He sat back down to hear Niki rambling about the construction of her new city. It was a noble project, but it took a lot of work for it to be functional.

“Oh by the way Niki, if you need me to come back and work on fixing up that waterfall area, just holler.” Foolish interjected.

Niki chuckled lightly. “No, no it’s fine. I’ve been working on it a bit and I think I’ve gotten it the way I want it for now.” She said.

“Plus, would you even have time with all those build projects you have going on? I have you booked for Tubbo, and Kin-”

“First of all, HBomb, you don’t have me booked for anything. Second of all, I'll always make time for my friends. You guys need help? I'm right there, okay?" Foolish said. He flashed a bright smile before taking a spoonful of the stew.

The three continued to chat about things. HBomb complained that no one had signed up for maid service in a while, Niki spoke cryptically about a trip to Snowchester she took with Phil, and Foolish rambled on about the progress of the mansion and his future plans.

The banquet hall slowly began to quiet down as the night progressed. The pair in front of him had gone through two glasses of wine and Foolish had yet to take a sip.

"Foolish, aren't you thirsty? You've barely touched your wine." Niki asked, her tone still light.

Foolish looked up from his dish. "Uh, it's just really not my favor-" his voice dying out as he finally took in his surroundings. How had he been so oblivious?

The Egg was glowing a soft red and emitting a low hum. The walls looked… well, looked like they were dripping with the wine in his glass. The room was dead quiet, eerily quiet, other than the hum of the egg that he could feel in his bones.

"Foolish, come on. Don't be silly. It's really good wine, I would know," HBomb said. The friendliness in his voice oozed with tension. His smile was too wide, too forced.

The realization hit Foolish like a ton of bricks. His eyes flicked from H's tense smile to his eyes. The bright blue was replaced with a deep, off-putting red. It was a similar color to the wine, but they looked as if they were glowing similarly to the Egg in the corner of the room.

Further observation showed that it wasn't only H. As he looked around the room, not only were everyone's eyes a monstrous red, but they were all trained on the totem's figure.

He had to leave. He had to get away. But where? The Egg was spread all around the smp. Even if he could get back to the Temple, Bad and his crew have proved they aren't scared of trespassing on Temple grounds. But the Temple was his only shot. Everywhere else was too vulnerable.

Foolish laughed nervously. "Well, I think I should be going now. I have a big day of building tomorrow. Need to be well rested, you know?" He said, standing up. He slowly began moving toward the exit.

"Foolish, please. Stay and enjoy the night with us." Bad said, standing up as well.

"Yeah, Foolish. Don't be difficult." Punz called out.

No one else in the room reacted. They only stared blankly at Foolish.

Foolish laughed lightly. A smirk coming across his features. "I think I've proven multiple times that I'm not scared of you and your Egg, Bad." He muttered.

"Maybe you should be." The demon spat back. Any false friendliness that was in his voice before was gone.

Foolish's smirk only grew. "Obviously you haven't learned anything from our past encounter. Don't be foolish, Bad." He said, his voice lacking any emotion. He wasn't angry or upset at all. If anything, his tone was just smug.

Bad just glared, and Punz seemed like he was itching to aim his crossbow and put an arrow through Foolish's chest. He didn't have much time left to figure out his escape route.

"Or perhaps I'm the foolish one… for not taking care of that pathetic Egg sooner."

In a split second decision, Foolish grabbed his trident and threw it at the Egg. Sparks of electricity spread throughout the corner of the room and into the shape in the corner of the room. The Egg let out a shrill scream, and the guests in the hall grabbed covered their ears and let out groans of pain.

Foolish took this as a chance to escape. He called back his trident, which left a sizable crack in the shell of the egg. He threw an enderpearl toward the water elevator at the edge of the room.

"GET HIM!" The Egg cried out. The horde of mind controlled puppets reacted instantly. But Foolish simply saluted the crowd before hopping into the water elevator.

Once he hit the ground, he was running. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran through the land of the Dream SMP. He needed to get to the community portal. If he didn't travel through the Nether, there was no way he'd make it by foot. He ran through the remains of the community house before hurrying up the stairs to the portal.

An arrow, dipped in some potion, lodged itself into the obsidian of the nether portal, but Foolish was already gone. He sprinted as fast as he could while still being observant to the difficult terrain of the Nether. One wrong move could send him into the pit of lava. And it didn't make it any easier that he had a swarm of armed Eggheads behind him.

He dodged arrows left and right, some of them on fire, some of them potion tipped. He looked behind him to see Punz throw an enderpearl in his direction. Foolish grabbed his own bow, lining up the shot and shooting the enderpearl in mid air, sending Punz falling onto the netherrack below him. Foolish finally made it to the portal that led to his summer home.

Standing in the obsidian frame, he lit a block of TNT and left it on the other side of the portal, faintly hearing the explosion as he appeared on the other side of the portal, his summer home lightly glowing in the distance.

He took a moment to use his pickaxe to break the frame of the portal, just as a safety precaution. He ran to the temple, breathing hard. He didn't stop until he reached the heart of the temple. He slumped down, the cool glass of the beacon against his back.

He took a few deep breaths, hands shaking slightly. The distorted faces of his friends were stuck in the back of his mind. They tried to kill him, they…

He couldn't think like that. It wasn't their fault. It was the Egg's. He tried to push the image of his friends away as he thought about the monumental task that was just placed on his shoulders….

The Egg has to go.