#where is the manual girls can’t live without their manuals

[nevvaraven]

Tf is a super boop? you’re telling me there’s levels to this?

[laundrybiscuits]

(young man what do you wanna be tag | Ch1-2 on AO3)

“Hey, did you and Jonathan tell Will to ask me about—” Steve glances around like the world’s worst spy, and leans close even though they’re the only living souls in the trailer. “About gay things?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “No? Wait, Jonathan might’ve.”

Steve pushes both his hands through his hair. “Why would you do that! Shit!”

“Again, I did nothing in this scenario,” says Eddie. “I’m pretty sure this one specific thing is not my fault.”

“He asked me about our relationship,” says Steve. “He wanted gay advice.”

Eddie swallows down his first impulse, which is to demand to know whether Eddie’s advice isn’t good enough for Will all of a sudden. “Okay,” he says instead. “What did you tell him?”

“I don’t know! I quit giving Dustin advice on girls, like, years ago! By the time I was Will’s age, I was pretty busy fucking up the only serious relationship I ever had.”

“Sure, maybe, but you can’t think about age that way. It’s like…” Eddie tilts his head. “For a lot of us, there’s a—a late start, right? It’s like a whole different time scale, because we gotta figure ourselves out first. We don’t get the manual to all this shit, so we either waste our time chasing some kind of picket fence life that we don’t actually want, or we just make it up from scratch.”

“Right, cool, okay,” says Steve. “I didn’t say anything like that. I told him to keep his chin up. I—think I called him slugger.”

Eddie pats him on the shoulder sympathetically, definitely not feeling at all vindicated about the fact that he’s clearly winning at gay mentorship. “Could be worse. What did the littlest Byers say?”

“He’s taller than Jonathan now,” says Steve.

“So not the point, sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, how’d it go?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Steve huffs out a breath and pushes his hand through his hair. “Not good, I don’t think. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with that kid. He just wanted to know how I figured stuff out, and like—why I wouldn’t just go with girls.”

“Yeah, uh, on that note,” says Eddie. “Is this a new development? Like.”

He pauses, trying to figure out the exact right arrangement of words.

“Like…” he says, slowly. “I’m just wondering, you know, why it hasn’t come up before. I mean, you already know about me, everybody knows about me. Is it—”

Did you not want me to think—

Did you not want—

“Pretty new, I guess,” says Steve. He lies back, arms folded behind his head, taking up more than his fair share of Eddie’s bed. Eddie climbs over him and takes his usual place tucked up against the wall, keeping a careful distance.

Steve’s parents are leaving again tomorrow, so this might be the last time for a while. It’s not like they won’t be seeing each other all the time; at this point, they’re so tangled up in each other’s lives that it’s not so unusual for them to hang out every day for weeks without even trying.

But it might be the last time for a while that they lie here like this, in a shadowy space where the line between thoughts and words gets slippery enough to cross. Eddie tries real hard not to think of it as anything special; it’s just his stupid fucking heart running away with him, the way it always does.

“Okay,” says Eddie.

After a while, he says, “Goodnight.” Steve doesn’t answer.

———

“Eddie!” Robin hollers from across the store. “We’re enemies now!”

“Okay!” he yells back. “Why?”

“Why do you think, asshole!”

This is getting unsustainable, so Eddie wanders over to the counter where Robin’s cashing out.

“Is it because I’m giving you a ride home out of the goodness of my heart? Unconventional, but I respect that.”

She chucks a balled-up receipt at his head. “Steve, dumbass.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, ducking out of the way and holding up his hands like he’s trying to soothe a spooked horse. “I dunno what he told you, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Exactly,” snaps Robin.

“Robin,” he whines, switching tactics. “C’mon, don’t be pissed at me. You know you’re my favorite lesbian in the whole wide world. You’re the cheese in my burger, the fries in my shake. My wretched soul cannot bear the weight of your scorn.”

He can tell she’s still trying to be mad, but the corner of her mouth is twitching, so he drapes himself over the counter and wails, “Milady Robin! Say only that you can forgive my dark and unworthy deeds, whatever they may be, or I shall perish right here in this fine establishment.”

“You really don’t know what you did, huh,” she sighs. “God, you’re the worst.”

Eddie peeks up at her through his hair. “Planning to enlighten me any time soon? Or are we going straight to pistols at dawn?”

“We are going to be driving me home,” says Robin. “And we’re going through Taco Bell on the way. We’re still gonna be enemies, but you can purchase a temporary peace treaty for the low, low price of two chalupas and a large Sprite.”

———

“Hey, Harrington, why’s Robin mad at me?”

“Mad at—? Oh. Uh, I think she misunderstood some stuff.”

Eddie groans. “Is this about the fake dating thing again?”

Steve looks a little pained. “Maybe?”

“Byers needs to go his own way! Call it another—lonely day, or—you know what I mean. Buckley can’t take in every wounded baby bunny that stumbles across her path.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening.”

“Sure, okay. So, do I need to defend my honor by finding Will a boyfriend or something?” Eddie pauses. “I realize that sounds like an insane scheme, but consider this: it’s still better than Operation Happy Ending, so I’m standing by it.”

“Not cool, man,” calls Argyle from the floor. Eddie has a theory that Argyle likes lying down on the floor because he’s tall. It’s not a very well-developed theory.

“No, no, I’m fully on board with the name,” Eddie assures him. “Baller name. You hit it out of the park on that one, dude.”

“Righteous,” says Argyle. “Appreciate the support.”

“The idea still sucks,” says Eddie. “But that is one hundred percent the fault of Jonathan Byers, and you remain the utterly blameless light of my life.”

A sudden thought strikes him, and he sits up, dislodging Steve’s hand in his hair.

“Hang on, Steve—did you ever actually tell Will that we’re not dating?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” Steve frowns. “Uh, probably? Man, I don’t really remember.”

Eddie shoots him a squinty look, and Steve holds his hands up. “Dude, I don’t know! I wasn’t trying to lie to the kid, there was a lot going on. Don’t know why he didn’t go ask Argyle instead.”

“Oh, he totally did, my bro,” says Argyle. “I think he’s, like, doing the rounds. I just told him not to worry about a thing and let the Lady Fate lead the way. I dunno if he was ready to embrace the Lady, though. He didn't really seem to get it.”

“Fucking great.” Steve leans back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Between the three of us, maybe he’ll get some kind of actual goddamn life lesson or whatever.”

“Fuck you, I am an amazing Gandalf. I mean mentor,” says Eddie. "Wait, shit. Does that mean Byers has been getting most of his actual gay advice from me? Holy shit, we can't let that happen. I'm like—the worst possible future for that kid. Steve, you gotta go back and try again."

He smacks Steve's shoulder. "Go back and tell him some real stuff! And tell him we're not dating, or he'll think he has to settle for the first loser that threatens him with a broken bottle!"

"Wait, is that—you don't actually think that, do you?"

"I mean, I'd like to say nobody will ever threaten him with a broken bottle, but Lady Fate works in mysterious ways. And frankly, given his whole…" Eddie waves a diffident hand. "Penchant for sniffing out trouble like a bloodhound after a T-bone, he's definitely going to wind up on the wrong end of a bar fight at least once or twice."

He pauses. "Don't tell Jon I said that, he'll wig out."

"Okay, but like—you know you're not—a loser, right?"

Steve touches Eddie’s back, a warm brush of fingers, and Eddie shrugs uncomfortably. "Just a figure of speech, Harrington. Don't worry your pretty little head about my ego, I'm doing great."

"Hell yeah you are," says Argyle. "Great as Gandalf."

Eddie is like 90% sure Argyle doesn't actually know who Gandalf is, but he appreciates the gesture.

"Thanks, dude," he says, poking Argyle’s head with his foot affectionately. "You're a great Gandalf too. The most Gandalferous."

"Can everyone stop saying Gandalf please," says Steve, so obviously Eddie has to bellow "Gandalf Gandalf Gandalf" right in his ear until Steve puts him in a headlock.

It's a pretty good afternoon.

[lottiecrabie]

Can you please do a blurb about pfms reader getting too drunk at a party matty isn’t at and matty has to pick her up and take care of her

omg not to again force angst down y’all’s throat BUT i will force angst down y’all’s throat again bc i see this so clearly when they’re broken up.

like she’s obviously doing extremely unwell without him. she misses him like a limb she’s lost, she’s completely heartbroken, and the worst part is she knows she could easily have him again but it’s simply better for both of them to stay apart.

but to deal with the fucking hurt beating alongside her heart, she goes to some party a faraway friend invited her to and gets sloppy drunk. she doesn’t even mean to, but parties just remind her of matty, and that’s not why she snuck out of her house and came here for. she wants to completely forget.

so she takes shot after shot every time his name slips inside her brain, plays beer pong until she’s too gone to aim, messily dances against faceless bodies, steals a few puffs of a joint circling around the living room. she’s on cloud 9 for a brief, sinful moment. nothing but a girl enjoying herself.

and then it all comes crashing down because the alcohol and the weed and the cigarette all catches up to her and she’s fucked up. she doesn’t know what to do— she’s never been this drunk before. all of her friends would give her some sermon for being in this situation, the one who invited her is completely lost to the crowd, and her parents would disown her if they knew she took a sip of wine outside of church.

she’s sitting on the porch, not nothing what to do, not knowing anything except the way the world spins and blurs around her. she blinks slowly, manually, trying to right herself. it’s not working.

grabbing her phone, she clicks on his number before her brain catches up with her fingers. it rings only once before he answers. ‘hey?’

matty’s voice is a blanket over her shivering shoulders. she wants to swallow the sound, to scratch it into her ears. her heart bleeds on her ribs. she misses him so thoroughly.

‘hey,’ she answers back, voice trembling, incertain.

‘are you okay?’ worry is clear on his tone. he always reads her so well.

‘yeah, yeah.’ she shakes her head, scrunching her face close. ‘fuck.’

‘love? what’s going on?’

‘i’m just—‘ she laughs bitterly. ‘shit. everything is spinning. i— i shouldn’t call you. i’m sorry.’ the words come out sloppy from her mouth, slow and chewed.

he’s standing up, the sound of keys ringing from his side of the line. ‘where are you?’

‘no,’ she shakes her head again. ‘i’m sorry. i’m truly—‘ the tears fill her eyes. she wants to scream. ‘i’m such a mess. i keep— fuck, i don’t know. i should hang up.’

‘don’t hang up.’ it’s an order. he’s deadly serious.

‘i’m sorry for calling. i didn’t know who else to call. i don’t have many people.’ her head falls between her knees. ‘i can’t stop thinking about you.’

his breath hitches. ‘baby, where are you?’

she mutters the address to him. he has her on the phone while he gets in the car, whispering soothing words to her while her lips tremble. she feels nauseous, dizzy even when sitting down.

he pulls up in front of the house, practically jumping out of the car as he runs to her. she grins at the sight of him. ‘you came.’

‘of course.’

‘no,’ she shakes her head, but it’s a bad idea because now the world is twice as blurry. ‘i didn’t know you would.’

‘of course i would,’ matty presses, almost offended.

‘i wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.’ he sighs, grabbing her hand, helping her up. she sways, falling into the side of his body. she continues, ‘really, you shouldn’t have come at all. i don’t deserve you to. i’ve been— i’m terrible.’

‘i don’t think so,’ he coos gently, getting her to walk on unsteady feet. ‘i’ll come whenever you ask.’

‘don’t. you could do so much better. i’m sorry i’m such a fucking mess.’ tears threaten her eyes again. she tries to hide from him even as she’s perfectly tucked under his arm. ‘i miss you,’ she whispers.

matty swallows thickly. he opens the passenger door. ‘i miss you, too,’ he answers back, getting her inside. her head falls against the glove box, groaning in displeasure.

‘your house or….’ she looks up at him deadpanned. he sits in the driver’s seat, starting the car, chuckling. ‘right. mine.’

the drive goes by in dazed confusion. he stops in front of his house, difficulty getting her out of the car. it’s the first time she takes the front door. she doesn’t let herself linger on that fact, instead letting herself be guided to his room.

she falls on his bed, moaning in relief. the sheets smell like him. she nestles her head in his pillows, breathing in happily.

‘on your side,’ he demands, rolling her over.

matty places a trashcan beside her, combing back her hair gently, before moving away. she groans, gripping his arm before he tries to leave, tugging him into her. ‘don’t go,’ she whines, half-asleep already.

he chews on his lip, but slips in bed behind her. it’s a deliciously warm body, an anchor into this world. it’s matty. it’s as simple as that.

she sighs contently, nestling deeper into his arms. ‘will you tease me in the morning?’ she mutters.

matty snorts a laugh. ‘yes.’

the blissful void of sleep swallows her whole.

[zwy01]

Noble OCs - Elenor

Making five OCs for every clan!

Acacia Elenor: Non-Pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Acacia loves magic. She uses magic to shortcut her way through everything and sometimes forgets how to do the most basic things because she relies on her spells so much. She can’t even manually dress herself without getting all tangled up, so she just creates outfits with her noble powers and disintegrates them once she’s tired of what she’s wearing in favor of new ones. At some point she had to spend four hours teaching herself how to comb hair in order to do her daughter’s hairstyle for mother-daughter bonding time. Her daughter had requested that Mama does it herself because “it’s more special that way”, so Acacia had to learn. Acacia only starts to walk long distances instead of relying on teleportation spells all the time because her daughter is a very active person and she wants to be a part of her girl’s life as a good mom. Sometimes Acacia still wishes that she can just get things done in the snap of a finger but reminds herself not to because maybe it’s better to learn a few practical skills after all.

Fumnanya Elenor: Non-pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Fumnanya is a quality checker of noble goods. She evaluates everything made in Lukedonia before they’re delivered to noble households for personal use. She has a specific spell to check for any small cracks, dents, bumps, and other flaws that are too small for even the most perceptive eyes to notice. Fumnanya takes great pride in her work of making sure objects are of the utmost quality. Everything the Lord uses has to go through her. Some nobles complain about Fumnanya sending back more than half of their creations that are “perfectly fine” for no reason but nah, she just has her standards. That’s why the Previous Lord hired her for this job in the first place. Well, maybe he just thought that she was pretty funny and wanted to see where it’d go from there. The two of them were friends and the Previous Lord often teased Fumnanya about how she keeps damaging people’s self confidence in their craftsmanship. She just replies that if they can’t keep it up with the consistency and quality, then that’s their problem. Fumnanya has a broom which she uses to clean her residence and while she doesn’t fly on it, she thinks she’d look pretty cool if she does.

Cosmo Elenor: Non-pureblood. Entered eternal sleep, belonged to Gejutel’s generation.

Cosmo was one of Rozaria’s caretakers. He was kind and patient and let her practice her spells on him when no one else was available. Once Rozaria cried for several days because she didn’t have full grasp on one of her spells yet and turned Cosmo into a succulent instead of teleporting him to the room next door and the spell didn’t wear off until later. She carefully held and carried him around in her hands and even arranged a makeshift funeral for her new “houseplant” because she thought he wasn’t going to come back to her. Luckily, he did turn back, and smiled and thanked Rozaria for giving him a “short vacation”. Cosmo’s talent was using his magic to make enchanted stuffed animals and toys that could move around and interact with their surroundings, which Rozaria loved. Cosmo was one of Rurik Volo’s friends who hosted him during his couch surfing days.

Orpheus Elenor: Pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to the Previous Lord’s generation.

Orpheus is a poet and musician. He spends most of his youth outside of Lukedonia, as he leaves home as soon as he becomes independent to travel through the world looking for new magic to learn. At some point he comes across a three-quarters human, quarter-werewolf orphan boy on the brink of death from starvation and saves him. Orpheus adopts the boy and raises him as his own as he continues on with his journey. Now, it’s their journey. He teaches the boy magic, plays with him, and helps him live a fulfilling life. Eventually the boy becomes an old man and dies from natural causes due to his mostly human heritage and Orpheus is heartbroken. Orpheus finally returns to Lukedonia because only then would he not be overwhelmed by constant grief from being reminded of his “son” and the many memories they shared in the outside world. He never leaves Lukedonia again. To this day he still has auditory hallucinations of someone cheerfully calling him “Pa” every now and then and he turns his head around every time he hears children’s laughter. Orpheus’ most treasured item is a leather wizard hat that his human son made for him from the very first deer they hunted together.

Ixchel Elenor: Pureblood. Alive in the present day, belongs to Raskreia’s generation.

Ixchel is the niece of Orpheus. Like her uncle, she leaves home to explore the human world, except she doesn’t come back to Lukedonia and permanently resides in the human world instead. She does go back to visit sometimes, though she can’t stay in Lukedonia for more than five days without feeling bored. There’s just so much more fun outside and she likes having cool gadgets like phones and computers and whatnots. The signal here sucks, if there even is any. Ixchel currently lives in South Korea and makes a living as a tarot card reader. Her fortune telling business is a huge success and the lines are always super long. People think it’s amazing how she knows everything about everyone. In reality Ixchel just discreetly reads her customers’ minds and uses her noble powers to rearrange the cards so she’s simply saying what they really want to hear. Her already successful business brings in even more money around exam seasons when desperate parents and students arrive in hordes. Sometimes she also helps facilitate break ups when less-than-healthy couples come in. Might as well use her powers for good, she thinks. Ixchel’s partner is a human and one of her old customers whom she helped break up with his toxic ex. He offered to take her to a high-end BBQ restaurant as thanks, and she went because he’s cute and they clicked and started dating not long after. After Ixchel explains to her boyfriend that she is a noble, he asks her to make a bond with him because he wants to be with her forever. Currently, they live together happily with their seven cats, three dogs, two birds and a turtle.

Thank you for reading! Tradio is next!

[desswright29]

So I was watching that video where Tish said her love language is making you laugh with her corny jokes. And I think she probably didn’t know the official types of love languages at the time so she just said what’s on her mind lol… but I think Tish’s love languages are like in this order

When giving love:

Quality Time- I think she’s big on this one bcuz when she likes someone she can become a lil obsessed and wanna live in your skin, but since she can’t she will settle for bringing you everywhere she goes. You will end up being her personal accessory, can’t leave the house without you! You’re the first person she wants to see when she wakes up and the last person she wants to see before she goes to sleep. If she can’t see you she’s definitely texting you ALL day! Telling you she misses you.

Physical Touch- she definitely gives the touchy feely type. I think she’s like that with everyone. Just always casually using her hands to connect with ppl, but with you she’s gonna be a lil more intentional where she places her hands. And she gives lots of cuddles. She’ll tell you she can’t sleep without cuddling next to you.

Words of Affirmation- I know she is really spiritual so she’s always speaking life into you, and boosting you up with compliments and praise. Very casually, like she doesn’t even know she’s doing it sometimes.. to the point where if she doesn’t, your asking her what’s wrong 🤨

Acts of service- she will always try to make your life easier. She doesn’t like to get her hands dirty and do any type of manual labor but she will hire a guy to put your tv up or ask her assistant to make sure to dry clean your dress after y’all go out.. you don’t even have to ask, she’s just always thinking of you and taking care of you.

Gift Giving- she definitely is gonna spoil you, but within reason. She’ll buy the flowers, take you on trips, get you matching jewelry, and all that but after she really gets to know you and what you like, she’s gonna buy you smaller more meaningful gifts.. like I saw you were down to the last pages of your journal, I bought you a new one, with your name engraved. Or you mentioned you wanted to make a vision board, I bought all the supplies, come over and let’s make one together 🥰

When receiving love:

Quality Time- so Tish is the type to want the same energy given back to her that she’s giving out. So since she wants to be around you all the time, she expects you to feel the same. If she feels like you don’t, she will immediately fall back and give you space. Cuz she doesn’t wanna seem like the clingy one. But match her vibe, and she’s a happy girl!

Words of affirmation- she needs all the moral support she can get. I’ve noticed that Tish leans on confirmation from others a lot. Like in the video where she was walking to the stage, she got a lil nervous and told the crowd to keep the applause up. She’s always looking outward for that extra support so when her partner is her personal hype man it gives her all the confidence in the world!

Physical Touch- so I don’t think that she needs you to be touching her all the time, but she definitely appreciates those moments where you request for her to touch you lol like if you came up to her and burried your head in her chest so that she can give you a big bear hug she would feel so wanted. And she lovessss giving you affection so when you show that you need it, like nudging her to come closer.. she’s on you like white on rice, every single time!

Gift Giving- she doesn’t need anything at all from you and honestly doesn’t expect much but she secretly lovessss being spoiled. She will always be like babe you didn’t have to, and like omg that costs way to much take it back. But when you spoil her regardless of what she says she will be so grateful and feel all special. And she will cherish that gift forever!

Acts of Service- I think the same with this one like she doesn’t want you going out of your way for her but just being supportive is enough for her. Like practicing lines with her, or reading a script out loud to her when she’s feeling lazy, making the reservations or ordering the Uber cuz she will definitely forget.. cooking dinner, or buying her groceries cuz going to the store is annoying for her now lol stuff like that she appreciates.

I agree!

[toxophilitis]

No Virgin Schoolteacher   cont

CHAPTER EIGHT

Warren didn't say when he'd meet her again. But Jamie knew he was a very busy man and that it would be awhile before she could expect another round with him. That was too bad, because she felt hornier than ever.

The more he taught her about love-making, the more lusty she got. That evening when she went home, she was almost shaking with need. Warren's expert pussy-eating had been fantastic, but it only made her want more -- and right away.

Well, she was out of luck. Warren was busy every night that week, and he had to have several dates for the weekend. That was his style. The whole school joked about it. Warren was a good teacher, but his leisure time was devoted to juggling lusty women.

Jamie wondered how she'd survive till she saw him again. She could always read her sex manual and beat off and fantasize, but that didn't do much far her now. She wanted a real live lover. The evening promised to be a very frustrating one.

After dinner she tried to watch TV, but her mind kept wandering. She recalled every delicious second of her lunch hour, the hot salty taste of Warren's come, the exquisite pleasure she'd gotten from his sucking and tonguing. Soon she was drenching her panties with molten cunt juice.

"Oh, hell!" she moaned. "What am I going to do?"

Probably the easiest way to get to sleep would be to beat off till she collapsed. Sighing, she went to her room and undressed. She read the sex manual for awhile, then turned off the light and lay on top of the covers, caressing her naked body.

With the light out, it was easier to pretend that Warren was with her, feeling her all over, about to make love to her. She slid a hand between her thighs and touched the fever-hot swollen flesh of her pussy. It felt nice to stroke herself there, but not nearly as exciting as Warren's big wet tongue.

Well, it would just have to do, because there was no other way for her to get off. She began rubbing her middle finger stiffly over her sizzling slit, giving herself a steady buzz of pleasure. She tried very hard to fantasize that her finger was Warren's tongue.

"Yes, yessss, baby!" she moaned. "Lick me all over, don't stop!"

But her fantasy wasn't working very well, and then to make matters worse, she heard voices outside her window, distracting her. There was a man's husky voice and a girl's high giggling. Sighing deeply, Jamie opened her eyes and squinted into the darkness.

It was a hot night, and she'd left her window open. She suspected her neighbors were trying to beat the heat, too. There was another apartment building right behind hers, and she'd noticed a young couple moving into the apartment across the way. It sounded like they were climbing out onto the fire escape.

"Greg, this is crazy," the girl giggled.

"Aw, come on, Tawny!" he laughed. "What's life without a little adventure?"

Jamie's fantasy was destroyed, and she couldn't beat off with the distraction of voices just a few feet away. But maybe she could get something out of the evening after all. She could spy on the neighbor couple and hope they did something exciting.

Naked, she slipped off the bed and crawled over to the open window. She parted the curtains just a little and peered out. Sure enough, Greg and Tawny were hauling their mattress out on the fire escape, where it would be a lot cooler to sleep. Jamie hoped they decided to do more than sleep.

Greg was wearing only his shorts, and Tawny was wearing a matching tank top and panties. She had a terrific body, tail and slim yet big titted. Her thick honey-blonde hair fell to her shoulders. Greg was watching her braless tits wobble as they struggled with the mattress.

"Terrific idea, honey," Tawny said dryly. "I'm more sweaty than ever from dragging this damned mattress."

"Then take off your clothes," Greg leered. "That's what I'm gonna do."

He stripped off his shorts and tossed them in the window, Tawny gasped.

"Greg, you nut!" she cried. "You can't sit out on the fire escape naked! You could get arrested!"

"Aw, nobody's awake," he laughed. "Come on, take off your clothes."

He lunged for Tawny and whipped off her top. She gasped, tried to cover her big tits, and glanced around to see if any of the neighbors were looking out their windows. She seemed satisfied that she and Greg were the only ones awake, but she still looked uneasy.

"The panties, too," Greg leered.

"No way!" Tawny gasped.

He dived for her and started pulling off her panties. She let out a squeal, and he said, "Sssshhh, you don't wanta wake the neighbors, honey."

Tawny quieted down a little, but she was still muttering protests as Greg whisked off her panties. Jamie was watching everything, wide-eyed and excited. She was sure Greg was interested in more than getting his wife cool and comfortable.

As they wrestled around on the mattress, his cock was getting hard. Jamie eyed it and almost moaned with longing. She wished she had a nice hard cock to play with right now. She wished she had Warren in her bed, warming her up for losing her cherry.

Was she going to be a virgin forever? She was really beginning to wonder. God knows she'd tried her best to give it away, and Warren seemed eager to help her, but every time they got together they were frustrated. Jamie squirmed and shivered with lust.

"Greg, for heaven's sake," Tawny giggled, "stop that. We can't get it on out here."

Greg had her down on the mattress, half pinning her with his powerful body, and he was playing with her pussy. He was rubbing a stiff finger over her slit, and she was pushing at his shoulders, trying to shove him away. But as he stroked her gash, she began to moan and writhe. Pretty soon she went limp and opened her legs wide.

"Damn you!" she moaned. "Don't get me hot!"

"I think I already did," he leered.

He drew his finger from between her legs and showed her that it was wet and glistening with her cream. Tawny blushed and tried again to wriggle out from under him, but it was no use. He moved fully on top of her and kissed her.

"Mmmmmmm!" she moaned.

Jamie felt molten cream running down her legs. She was in the privacy of her own bedroom, so there was no reason she couldn't beat off. She just had to remember not to make a sound. The neighbor couple were so close, they'd hear her.

She slid her middle finger stiffly between the slick hot folds of her pussy and started rubbing back and forth. It felt nice, and it helped ease her hot lust a little. But she never took her eyes off Greg and Tawny. She was sure now that she was going to witness some hot action.

Greg kissed his gorgeous blonde wife sensuously, working his tongue in her mouth, till she stopped struggling. Then he started kissing his way down her body, over her full stiff nippled tits, her flat belly, and her golden bush. He pushed her legs wide open and nosed between them, and Tawny gave a hoarse gurgle of pleasure.

"Oh, honey, yessss!" she hissed. "Lick me!" Jamie barely stopped a moan of envy and lust. She ached to have Warren going down on her again. She'd never felt anything more delicious in her life than his big wet tongue and expert lips on her pussy. That brief session had made her ravenous for more.

"Ooooooh, shit, ooooooh!" Tawny moaned.

Jamie wondered why she was torturing herself by watching. She could have closed the window and gone to bed. But something kept her there, even though she seethed with need and envy. Maybe there was something more to learn, something she could try later with Warren.

Greg was flicking the stiff tip of his tongue up and down over his wife's swollen clit giving her hot little stabs of pleasure. Tawny was really into it now, flat on her back and with her legs bent and wide open. Her pretty face twisted into a horny grimace as Greg tongued her.

"Unnnnnhh, damn, I never can resist that!" she moaned, clawing the mattress.

"I know," Greg chuckled, "that's why I'm doing it."

"But don't you think we should go inside, honey?" she asked breathlessly.

Greg obviously didn't think so, and he silenced her by shoving his lips down around her throbbing clit. He started sucking her off, and Tawny almost flew off the mattress. She struggled not to wail in ecstasy as he sucked her most sensitive organ.

"Ugggghhh!" she gurgled. "Unnnhhh?" Jamie just wished she could imitate the wonderful sensations Tawny was getting from Greg's sucking lips, but there was no way she could do that with her fingers. She did the best she could, though, grasping her slick clit between her thumb and forefinger, kneading it fast.

Her whole hand was soon soaked with her spurting sticky cunt juice as she masturbated and listened to Tawny's hoarse moans of pleasure. The pretty blonde housewife had her eyes squeezed shut, blotting out everything but the exquisite sensations she was getting.

"Greg, honey, I'm gonna come!" she whimpered.

Greg made sure of it, sucking even harder and faster on her nearly-burstingclit. Jamie could hear the lewd wet sounds of his sucking, and it drove her wild. She kneaded her throbbing clit even faster. She wondered who'd come first, her or Tawny.

Tawny beat her by just a couple of seconds. The big-titted young blonde arched her body till her ass left the mattress, hungrily shoving her clit harder against Greg's sucking lips. Then she began a steady hoarse moan as he sucked her over the top.

"Ooooooh, fuck, shit, unnnnhhhhhh!" she cried. "Unnnnnhhh, I'm comingggg, oooooh!"

Jamie clapped her free hand over her mouth to muffled her groan of bliss as she brought herself off. She gave her clit one long last squeeze and felt her bones rattled by a shatterig orgasm. She slumped to her knees and convulsed.

Still muffling her hoarse moans of pleasure, she heard Tawny whining and sobbing as she climaxed. After almost a minute the sounds faded. Jamie dizzily peered out the window again and watched Greg lifting his cream drenched face from his wife's smoking slit.

"See?" he grinned. "We can make out on the fire escape. Nobody's complained yet."

And nobody's going to, Jamie thought wickedly.

If anybody else was watching the young couple, they were probably getting off on it just like Jamie. She'd just climaxed pretty hard, but she kept her hand between her thighs, stroking and arousing her wet slit, famished for more pleasure.

Now Greg was turning Tawny over onto her belly. He grasped her hips and drew her up into the doggy-position. She got wide-eyed and glanced around again, fearing that someone might see them. She gasped as Greg slid his long thick cock into her cunt.

"Greg, no, that's insane!" she cried. "We can't fuck out here! Ohhhh, God -- unnnhh!" Her alarmed tone of voice dissolved into lusty gurgles as Greg began fucking her fast and deep. She dug her nails into the mattress and held on tight, her body shaken by the impact of his lusty fucking. Her gorgeous big tits swung heavily back and forth.

"Oooooh, fuck it to me, fuck it to meeeee!" she wailed.

Obviously she'd stopped worrying about waking the neighbors, because she was making quite a bit of noise now, moaning and squealing as her lusty husband fucked into her faster and faster. Jamie glanced around and spotted one window with the curtain just slightly open. She grinned.

She knew who lived there, a mousy little guy who worked as an accountant and kept about a dozen cats for company. She pictured him watching the fucking couple and jacking off. Go for it, honey, she thought wickedly.

He wasn't going to report Greg and Tawny, and neither was Jamie. This definitely beat watching TV. Jamie focused on Greg's huge hammering cock, and she slid her middle finger into her cunt and finger-fucked herself to his hard rhythm. But one finger didn't give her the thickness she wanted, the thickness of a genuine cock.

She shoved another finger into her slick steaming cunt, and even that wasn't enough. She ached to know what it was like to fuck. She worked a third finger into her seething pussy, cramming herself full of stiff meat. That was more like it.

She finger-fucked herself deep and hard, and she started coming just as Greg and Tawny did. That was lucky, because she could moan and groan all she wanted without them hearing her. They were making plenty of noise of their own.

"Awwwww, shit, awwwww!" Greg bawled.

"Ooooooh, honey, yessss, cream meeeee!" Tawny wailed.

"Unnnhhhh, fuck, unnnnnhhhhh!" Jamie groaned, her cunt exploding with pleasure.

When she'd finished coming, she saw that her neighbors were fucked out for the night. They settled down, and she closed the window, went to her bed, and picked up the phone. She called Warren's number, and he answered in a sleepy voice.

"This is Jamie," she said.

"Jamie?" he whispered. "Hey, I can't talk now! My, uh, date's here with me!"

"I'm not surprised," Jamie said. "I just want to give you one short message, Warren. Tomorrow is your last chance to do that little job for me. If I'm still a virgin tomorrow night, I'm looking for somebody else."

She hung up before he could reply.

[yatescountyhistorycenter]

Setting up a colony (house) in Penn Yan

By Jonathan Monfiletto

As I begin to write this article, the phrase “If these walls could talk…” comes to my mind. I just can’t help it, even though the phrase seems too overused and unoriginal. Obviously, walls do not literally talk; no inanimate objects can talk without human intervention. Yet, if you know where to look for the right information, then the walls can tell some interesting stories.

Such is the case with the house at 324 North Ave. in the village of Penn Yan. Though the house is the former home of Baron von Lingke, who seems to have been an interesting character in himself, the house is probably better known in local history as the Colony Home or Colony House. The home is described as having 12 rooms, two complete baths, kitchen, pantry, and laundry room and standing on six acres of land.

More accurately called the Penn Yan Colony or Newark Garden Colony (as it was operated by the Newark State School), I first heard about the home from someone who was seeking information about the house and where it is located in the village. However, I had been hesitant to write about the Penn Yan Colony because I didn’t seem to be able to find much information about. What I did find out about it caused me to think this topic deserved some privacy for those involved in it.

According to a typewritten statement in our subject file, the colony housed young ladies who had committed some kind of legal infraction that did not require incarceration. My further research through our digitized newspapers, however, shows this to be inaccurate. I realized there appears to be a discrepancy between the information in our folder labeled “Colony Home” and the actual history of this organization.

While the colony moved to North Avenue in 1931, the story of the Penn Yan Colony goes back a few years before that to November 1926, when the Newark State School first announced its plans to open the colony. The story also goes back to a different location; initially, the school leased what is called the Ralph Norris house or the Lockwood place on East Main Street in the town of Milo. The location is seen elsewhere as Milo Center Road, but this may be an error as East Main Street becomes Himrod Road and Milo Center Road runs parallel to it.

According to the initial article, 15 to 20 girls would occupy the Norris house under the charge of a matron and an assistant. The girls would be available to serve as domestic helpers in homes, working in homes during the day and returning to the house at night. On December 9, 1926, it was reported the girls would arrive in 10 days. A year and a half later, additions to the home allowed it to increase its capacity to 20 girls from 15.

Penn Yan was one of five locations in the Finger Lakes region in which the Newark State School established its colony homes; the others were Lyons, Geneseo, Watkins Glen, and Canandaigua. The Penn Yan Colony, like the other locations, was operated by the Newark State School for Mental Defectives, using in its full name the umbrella term of the day for anyone with a developmental disability, mental illness, or other special need.

According to an April 1934 newspaper article, Dr. John Holffer – the head of the school – was the guest speaker at a Penn Yan Rotary Club meeting and gave a history of state schools and colony homes. At Newark in the 1930s, the people housed there were trained in “the manual arts” in an effort to “prepare them for return to the community.” Particularly, girls were trained in “domestic science,” given practical experience, and then placed “on parole” in colony homes throughout the area.

At the time, according to the article, about 200 people lived on parole at the five colony homes and 1,600 people resided at the state school. At that point, some people had been released to foster homes.

In May 1931, the Penn Yan Colony announced plans to move from the Norris property into the village of Penn Yan, leasing the David Ayers residence on Clinton Street. The move would further increase the colony’s capacity; at its most, 24 girls lived in the home and 12 girls lived in the homes in which they worked. After a renovation, the Ayers residence itself would accommodate 35 girls. However, those plans were thwarted by a protest of “practically all the residents on Clinton street, between Main and Benham,” according to a May 1931 newspaper article, who presented a petition to the village board.

The residents believed the colony would violate zoning ordinances, apparently outlawing penal institutions in residential areas. The article notes, however, the colony may not be considered a penal institution to which people have been committed for legal infractions. Nevertheless, after hearing from both the school and the street residents, the village board passed a resolution opposing any action to move the colony into village limits.

Instead, the colony moved into the von Lingke residence. In addition to performing housework in village homes, the girls who lived at the colony raised fruits and vegetables on the land around the home.

Not quite 30 years later, in February 1959, the Newark State School recommended closing the Penn Yan Colony, citing a lack of sufficient work placements for the girls there. Both the supervisor and assistant supervisor of the colony and the residents of the village felt, however, there was a need for the colony in the community and there was sufficient work for the girls outside of the slow winter months. That article noted the North Avenue home hosted as many as 24 girls but hosted only 12 by that point.

The next month, though, it was announced the colony would close and the girls would be transferred either to the Newark State School or to other colony homes in the area. By the end of March 1959, the home was listed for sale in local newspapers.

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Unblock Gridlock

Unblock Gridlock: Real Sounds In Fake Space

Watch this video on YouTube

Thumbnail and script below the fold

You might know this game, at least by looking at it. I learned about it the first time from watching ASMR channels softly talking while they tried and solved the different puzzles of a physical version of the game. They call it Rush Hour, because that tends to be the branding attached to it.

It’s a sliding block puzzle, where you have a bunch of blocks that can only be slid along their longest axis. The idea behind it is inspired by a thing from a bygone history, where people would depict in magazines lots of cars all locked in against one another, stuck in place, until the road cleared, all at odd angles, and getting out involved shifting everyone just enough in the right way.

It’s funny to think about how ‘rush hour’ as a concept is kinda dated to me. Obviously it happens, but I grew up knowing it was one of the worst things my dad had to deal with, and we had to map whole days around it, but also now I couldn���t tell you a thing about it because I catch the bus everywhere. Perk of living in a place with nice public transport, not going to lie to you.

The original puzzle design driving Rush Hour is the product of a designer known as ‘Nob.’ Nob is short for Nobuyuki Yoshigahara, a prolific puzzle designer from Japan. Now, I don’t know Nob’s work very well, but based on reading up on Nob’s work, the reason I can’t really appreciate the scope of Nob’s work is the reason why standing on the ground outside my house, I can’t really see the scope of Australia. I don’t know Nob well but by what I can see, looking at his work, as a game developer, and its scope, it is remarkable for its *vastness.* The man wrote over 80 books on puzzles, and was at one point writing seventeen monthly columns on puzzles across a host of different puzzle publications. If you’re into puzzles, you probably are into puzzles made by people who built on the work of Nob.

My favourite anecdote learning about this history, by the way, is that when the 4×4 Rubiks Cube was released with a mechanical flaw that meant it could fail under stress, Nob was so intrigued by the design that he redesigned it – someone else’s design! – and mailed the revision to the publishers of the game. This being the 1980s, they implemented his changes. You got one of them little metal elk puzzles? Yeah, there’s a reason there’s an ‘N O B’ inscribed on them.

Nob was also an early adopter of computer technology to design and solve puzzles. Foreshadowing.

I don’t know why Rush Hour became a darling of the ASMR set. For those of you unfamiliar, ASMR refers to the Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, a science-sounding way to describe a phenomenon of experiencing pleasant tingles due to a wide variety of subtle stimuli that are hard to explore in most everyday situations. It’s a big deal on Youtube, a platform that gave the medium a lot to work with and if you’re not interested in it, you might not know anything about it. It has that name because it’s a lot easier to talk about, and a lot easier to search rather than ‘that nice fuzzy feeling in the back of my head.’

It’s also the genre of reading like this. I’m deliberately aiming for a soft-spoken version of my normal presentation without making anyone feel like their ears itch.

ASMR is a really interesting, broad community – I think I’m in the ‘selfconscious fictional’ part of it, where I want someone to talk to me nicely about something obviously fantastic. Some folks want to hear a pretty girl playing with cellophane, some folks want to have their cranial nerves examined, and some people like to watch methodical, slow playing of manual tabletop games. It’s a thing that provides structure for a video that’s often about forcing yourself to not act quickly, not do things maximally efficiently. Sometimes, when you go looking, you’ll find an ASMRTist playing Rush Hour.

Rush Hour has a lot of potential as an ASMR game. It has moving physical pieces. It can make pleasant sounds when the pieces are slid into location. It rewards thoughtful consideration of pieces and what they need to fit in various places. It’s something you can get better at over time, too, which means the learning process shows itself in longer videos. It’s brightly coloured, to make sure it’s reasonably easy to understand what it’s doing.

I know I’ve been talking about Rush Hour a lot in this video ostensibly about a different game, Unblock Gridlock. That’s because Rush Hour serves as the underpinning of it, but there is a big difference in computer games and videogames, and that flows from a place of scope. The Rush Hour physical game ships these days with forty cards, showing forty puzzles, and they’re complicated, but the really long solutions can’t really be shown on a card easily. It’s not like you’re going to get a puzzle that’s forty steps long.

What you do get, though, is a weird cousin of procedural level generation. Under the hood, Rush Hour is a math puzzle. The math is about graphs, and involves something called nondeterministic constraint logic, but ultimately, if you can give a computer anything that fits on a Rush Hour board, it can solve it pretty much trivially, because largely, computers are pretty good at solving this kind of math. That means that while Rush Hour presents you with forty puzzles, Unblock Gridlock presents you with a positively bananas 9,392 puzzles. I’m pretty confident to make that many puzzles, the designers made the computer generate possible puzzle configurations that could be solved within a certain number of steps, and picked a reasonably-sensible set of those.

It’s a good value proposition if what you want is a giant pile of puzzles to work through. If you get a Jumbo 10,000 Puzzles book and think bet, well, Unblock Gridlock is going to be good for you. It feels kind of bottomless to me, and I say that with over a hundred puzzles under my belt after seven hours of play, in little two-and-three-minute increments.

And now I’m gunna talk about something that’s a bit of a bummer.

Oh, and in Unblock Gridlock you’re playing a cop, so, mnyeh to that I guess.

It’s a great puzzle game, I like it a lot. I just need to dedicate myself to controlling when and how I play it.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[sunny-sis101]

Ashes, Ashes

Notes: (I can't believe I wrote this about 5yrs ago... my cuz demanded I post it somewhere, so here we are)

Word count: 580

Genre: angst

TW: mention of character death, contains fire, and trauma… very sad!

The flames circled around me, and spread almost as rapidly as my heart was beating against my chest. I ran as fast as I could; I couldn’t see where I was going, but I knew I needed to get out. Away from the fire, away from the smoke, away from the schoolhouse. Somewhere behind me, a girl screams. Her frightened voice floods through my ears, before she fades away. Now I am coughing from the thick black smoke. It flows through my feeble body, and leaves me gasping for air. Air that I don’t have. Ahead of me, I see the outline of Julia’s cat headband amongst the crowd of other scared students. I watch in awe as the high ceiling crashes down, in pieces, landing directly on top of an outline in a cat headband. This must be one of my nightmares, it must. But there is no time to stop and pinch myself. I turn and run the other direction, hoping to find the rest of us a way out. Finally, Kimberley sees the emergency doorway, the one we’ve been searching for, the one that could have saved my dear friend Julia. We burst through the door, and see light. A comforting sort of light–that warms you up–differently than fire. 

That was 5 years ago, today. The day when I lost my best friend. Every year, when this day comes up, I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t live without thinking if Kim just found that door sooner… No, this wasn’t Kim’s fault, it was all mine. My fault my best friend is gone. My fault she never made it to her Sweet 16. My fault Julia is DEAD. I can’t help but wonder why. I just don’t understand why such a talented young person died, and not someone like me. Julia had major potential. She was very intelligent; she had a special way with animals, where she could communicate with them and understand their struggles. If it was an injured bird, she felt their pain. Sort of like how I feel her pain of the fire, whenever I hear my mother turn on the stove. She would’ve been a great veterinarian, probably the best that has ever lived. We were going to live together in a beautiful house in the country; her as a veterinarian, and me the pop star. Yeah, right. That dream was almost as realistic as the dream that one day she will come back.

4 years and 6 months of therapy to get where I am today. Frankly, I’m right where I was when I began. Ms. Nickelson thinks she is on the road to recovery, but there is no recovery to something that can’t be reversed. You can't reverse Julia’s death, so you can never make me recover either. She always says, “If Julia were here, she’d want you to move on. And I’m sure if you were dead, you’d want her to move on, too.” She says it as though she knew Julia, or she had a long casual conversation with her about it. The fact of the matter is, before Ms. Nickelson, there were 3 other therapists who told me the exact same thing. I guess it comes in the Big Therapy Manual book. I tried telling everyone that there’s no point. The person I used to be–the girl I once was? Well, she died along with Julia in that stupid fire. She’s lost in the ashes.

[rodricksfilipinagf]

Rodrick Is Secretly in Love With You HC

- your school was doing this thing where they use a computer program to match people up based on interests

- they claim it’s a “friendship” thing but everyone thinks of it as for dating

- you get Rodrick

- And you’re SHOCKED

- like of all the people to match you up with....

- you’ve heard about the wild pranks he pulled at school

- and you didn’t go to his party because you didn’t think it was worth lying to your parents about but deeply regretted it after seeing pics of how fun it was

- and you know about his band because they played at the talent show and you performed at it but never thought to pay attention to him

- you thought it was weird they had a 35 year old in it though

- you thought they did great though and didn’t get why your town boo’ed them

- you’ve never really paid that much attention to him but you thought you’d never have anything in common

- he brought this sexual magazine to school once and you looked nothing like the girl on the cover

- you think he’d be disappointed once he learned he got matched with you 

- you wonder if he has unrealistic expectations about women's bodies and sex, and expect girls he dates to be like the ones he sees in magazines and probably porn

- you’re not OPPOSED to dating him

- but you’re afraid of him possibly being ableist or making fun of you

- you can get like obsessively into fandoms and sometimes they’re underground, or weird, or really niche, or something that was everyone else’s past but that means the world to you

- you’ve known people that have made you feel weird about it

- if Rodrick did you would probably want to punch him in the throat

- Rodrick comes up to you in the hall and you’re really nervous and he asks you if you wanted to hang out after school

- when you’re at his house he tells you that you were really good in the talent show and wanted to invite you to eat with him and his bandmates at a diner afterwards but you left and he couldn’t find you

-you tell him that he was really good too, and his band deserved to win

-he asks why you didn’t come to his party, and you’re surprised he even noticed you weren’t there

- you wonder out loud why the program matched the two of you up, and he says it’s probably because you both like music, and offers to make a playlist of his favorite songs so you could get to know him better, and you agree to do the same thing

- you stress out over which songs to include

- it’s very hard not to put entire show albums on it put there’s a lot of Broadway, and pop and social justice rap, and even some Kpop and you’re afraid he's not going to like it or even listen to it

- but he actually listened to the whole thing

- he texted you live commentary while he was listening 

-~the dedication~

- and you find out he has really good taste in music

- you start to hang out more and more 

- you really vibe with his sense of humor, and you laugh so hard at the unintentionally funny things he says

-over time you start to see that he’s a huge dork

-he can’t get out of his van without staggering or tripping sometimes

- and then he turns to you and is like “you didn’t see that”

- but you think it’s really cute

- sometimes the side you’re so worried he’ll make fun of leak out because you’re so comfortable with him

- but he’s sweet about it and doesn’t start acting weird or treating you differently like some people at school have

- he doesn’t stop taking you seriously and starts to confide in you about his home life- about how his parents don’t approve of his dreams and even his little brother thinks he’s stupid and untalented

- he tells you he’s lucky to have someone like you in his life that understands him

- and it means so much to you that you’re slowly starting to earn his trust 

- you tell him about how you got yelled at for trying to act like how you thought normal girls were supposed to to get the life you wanted

- telling him about this makes you cry

- you talk about how life doesn’t come with a manual and so you’ve had to cobble it yourself using TV, books, and movies, and people get mad at you and hate you and talk shit about you when you’re just trying to figure out the world the best way you know how

- and you’re still crying because you think he’ll think that’s crazy

- but instead he gives you a huge hug and tells you you’re safe to tell him anything

- you talk about how you’re worried you’ll never get a boyfriend because your brain naturally obsesses over your crushes just like it does about everything else you love and sometimes you’re unafraid of showing just how much you like them and it scares them off

- and he tells you that if someone ever liked him like that he wouldn’t be scared 

- and in fact that kind of love would be a refreshing change from his family, who don’t see the best in him at all

- you like that he’s able to see and appreciate the real you and knows how to comfort you when you’re upset so you start to develop really strong feelings for him

- later that night he texts you to see how you’re feeling and lets you know he’s always going to be there for you

- at night you cry even harder because you can’t believe someone this amazing can be real

- you write a song about how much you love him

- you’re not really planning on doing anything with it

- but after this huge family party Rodrick went to that he felt especially shitted on he came over to your house

- everyone was accusing him of being this mean person who had no future and then demanded to know why he wasn’t nicer to them

- he felt miserable the whole time and wished he could be with you instead

-you showed him the song because you knew he didn’t deserve any of that and wished he could see himself like you did

- and you told him his family was stupid if they didn’t realize what a great guy he was

- and then you tell him straight up that you love him

- he says he loves you too, and he has for a while, and he’s glad you feel the same way, because he knew that he could love you the way you deserved to be, and all this time he was hoping you would feel the same way about him

- he becomes your boyfriend, and kissing him becomes your favorite part of the day

-and you think back to that matchmaking program, and shake your head at your past self, unaware that Rodrick was the perfect person for her

[storiesofsvu]

A Redemption Earned Ch 5

Heather Dunbar x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, i think that's it.

“Mom?” Becca’s brow furrowed, glancing both ways down the hallway to see if anyone was with her, even more confused to see that there wasn’t. “What’d you do?”

“Excuse me?” Heather nearly laughed, the one that did come out one of offence.

“You showed up here with no warning saying you need help… that’s kinda what I’m gonna jump to.”

“I just need your advice.” She huffed and Becca nearly snorted.

“That’s not helping. But come in.” She stepped back from the door, letting her mom into the apartment, swinging the door shut behind her.

Becca expected Heather to pause, expected to watch her lips purse as she took in the place where her daughter chose to live, what she called home. Becca had to admit, it was definitely cheaper than her budget, but she’d just wanted something close to work and school and this suited her needs perfectly. After growing up with such a vast house and so much extra space, she preferred the two bedroom, an open kitchen and living area, a neat little desk tucked away in the corner, though the kitchen island was currently covered in papers and her laptop. Thanks to having just finished school she was onto a couple of more personal research papers and job hunting and had hosted a small graduation party with her friends a couple of days earlier. It wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t exactly mother approved clean in here, and Becca was worried Heather was going to instantly lose track of whatever she’d come over here for and force her into some manual labour to get the place cleaned up. Honestly, it would’ve been even worse if she simply picked up her phone and called one of the housekeepers to do it for them while she whisked Becca away to a luxury dinner.  

Instead Heather’s eyes swept through the space, thankful that it looked comfortable and lived in, that Becca enjoyed where she got to come home to every night. It was brief, she didn’t even notice the pizza box sticking out of the trash can before her she glanced back to her daughter.

“This place is cute, how long have you been here?”

“Like…four years?” Becca shrugged, “didn’t want to live in the dorms the second time through.”

“That I can definitely agree with.” Heather laughed, placing her bag down on a free chair though Becca could feel the nerves practically vibrating off her, the awkwardness of whatever the situation at hand was.

“You want a drink? I’ve got some of that pinot you and Dad like so much…”

“I… you know what that might honestly help, thank you.”

Becca swiftly moved through the room, grabbing down a glass and the bottle, cracking open a seltzer for herself before handing the wine glass to her mom.

“So what’s up?”

“I guess I need your… opinion on something….”

“Okay?” Becca took a hefty swig of her drink, watching Heather do the same.

“I’m just…I’m in a situation and being that I really only have work acquaintances this felt like not the thing to go to any of them with.”

“Mom….” She warned with a near half glare, “you think maybe this might be something you should discuss with your therapist?”

“Uh.” Heather froze, wine glass halfway to her lips, considering how things played out, this certainly was something that should come up in a session, that would even come up in a session without prompting. “Eventually maybe, but right now I, God this is gonna sound so bad, but I need the opinion of someone who…. enjoys the company of the same sex, and I can’t exactly waltz up to the white house to talk to Nat or Jackie.”

The concern on Becca’s face melted away to one of near laughter as she took in the woman standing across from her.

“This is a gay thing isn’t it!?”

“I—” Heather opted for another swig of her drink before letting out a heavy sigh, “there’s this girl…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there!” Becca held up a hand, swallowing back more of her seltzer, “when you say girl do you mean someone of the female gender? Or like, some bimbo twenty two year old? Cause the rule is half your age plus seven.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Half your age plus seven! And even that’s pushing it for you to be honest. Same thing I told dad if he ever wanted to start dating again. So is she…” She paused for a moment, attempting the math in her head, her brow furrowing once again before giving up with a huff, “is she over thirty? At the bare minimum?”

“I… I don’t know how old she is.” Heather’s own brow furrowed as she tried to remember if you’d mentioned an age, scrambling to piece together all the little tidbits of trivia that would help her figure it out, “she’s got to be at least thirty? She’s been teaching for years…” suddenly she shook out of it, “that’s not the point! I need to know if she’s flirting or just being professional.”

“Not yet.” Becca turned back to her with a sly grin on her face, “besides, age is important. Mom, c’mon…” she pleaded silently with a serious look on her face, “if you’re going to get back out there and start seeing someone I, you, all of us, we need it to be someone who’s good for you. Meaning they need to be an appropriate age and have their head on straight to call you out on your bullshit.” Heather paused for an offended scoff, “the last thing I need is to show up at your house to find a harlot in her lingerie in your kitchen accusing me of being another one of your affairs… again…” Heather grimaced at the memory, although her excuse of being in major grieving would have been a somewhat acceptable one.

“Yeah she really wasn’t the brightest bulb in the pack…”

“And when you’ve got your head on straight you’re literally the brightest in the country.” She nearly blushed at the around the bush acknowledgement, hiding behind her wine glass as Becca seated herself in front of her laptop. “So what’s this girl’s name?”

“Y/n.”

“I’m gonna need a last name.” Becca turned to her like that was the most obvious thing ever.

“I can’t remember!” Heather laughed and Becca rolled her eyes.

“You said something about teaching, is she a witness in your case? You’ve gotta have her name written down somewhere.”

“God.” She held back an eye roll, moving back through the room to her purse to pull out the file.

“You’re the one that wanted help in this.” Becca muttered and Heather laughed,

“Summers.”

“Thank you.”

The younger girl swiftly typed the name into the Facebook search engine, she tugged her bottom lip into her teeth as she scrolled through then scrolled back to the top to adjust the filters before she settled on a couple of profiles.

“Any of these look familiar?” Heather leant over the back of her chair, peering at the computer, feeling like a goddamn school girl at the entire situation.

“Second one down.” She admitted and Becca let out a small cheer, clicking onto your profile.

“Okay, okay, well she is cute, I’ll give ya that.” She clicked through to the about info, “elementary teacher? Adorable. Oh damn, she lived in Japan that long? Okay if this doesn’t work out am I allowed to still be her friend?” That earned a swat on the arm from her mom, “oh! Oh my god! She’s in her forties! Fucking perfect!!”

“Okay well none of that matters if she’s straight and just being friendly.”

“Well give me a minute.” Becca shot her half a glare, scrolling through more of her personal info, “hmph, looks like she doesn’t have any relationship status stuff on here. Damn. We’ll have to do more sleuthing.” She suddenly swiveled in her chair, “I thought your case took a deal? Is this like, weeks old gay panic? Or did you call her to tell her and that sparked this?”

“It did. I actually ran into her at a coffee shop this afternoon.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow.

“She said she’d been meaning to call over an art assignment the vic did, then she paid for my coffee and we got to talking. –Is something burning?” Before Becca could open her mouth to reply there was a sudden blaring through the apartment as the smoke alarm started to go off, causing Becca to jump off her seat.

“Shit! I forgot to turn the timer on!” She raced into the kitchen, silencing the alarm and wrenching open the window, Heather moving to slide open the patio door in an attempt to pull the small amount of smoke out. “Sorry. The alarm’s way too sensitive. It went off one day when I was curling my hair.”

“Better safe than sorry.” She commented, moving back to the island, her gaze darting down to your smiling face staring back up at her from the laptop.

“Fuck.” Becca pulled out a completely charred pizza from the oven, “so much for that.” Hucking it into the trash she turned back to her mom, “did you eat yet?”

“No.” She paused as she thought about it, “I don’t think I’ve actually eaten since breakfast.” She admitted sheepishly and Becca frowned.

“Is this a lawyer thing? Cause you were fine when you were politics.”

“There was always free food in the white house.” She rolled her eyes with a laugh as Becca picked up her phone, it only took a moment for her to light up with excitement.

“Hey! You know what I’ve been craving for recently?” Heather raised a brow, “Dumplings! We used to order from them all the time! I haven’t had them in ages.”

“I would not complain about that.”

“The usual?” She asked and Heather nodded, watching as she quickly dialled the phone.

As Becca began to order her gaze drifted back to the laptop in front of her, clicking on your profile photo she began to slowly scroll through them. She examined them a little too much like a lawyer, but she was looking for clues after all, something to figure you out a little bit more than she already had, though she knew Becca would probably be able to see something she couldn’t. She was suddenly torn from her train of thought by her daughter’s voice.

“They’ve only got one delivery driver tonight, it’s gonna be over an hour for that, but it’ll be ready in ten for pick up and I’m fucking starving. I’m just gonna run down there any grab it, okay?” She was already pulling on her coat and grabbing her purse before Heather could think of speaking, “and be careful! Don’t click on something and accidentally send her a friend request from me, okay?”

With that, Becca was out the door, this time trusting leaving her laptop in her mother’s care. Although, this time there was something that was much more distracting than snooping on her own family on her mind. Not to mention, Becca was mentally making a list of all the changes, all the things that normally Heather would’ve flipped out about that now were simply part of life. And on the top of that pile was that she wasn’t simply taking what she wanted, she was waiting to see if you were both on the same page, and better yet, seeking out advice from other people about the entire situation.

Old Heather would’ve had you in bed two weeks ago and left you on read yesterday.

**

You parked outside of Dumplings and Beyond, honestly expecting a higher end restaurant from someone like Heather, but she said these were the best in town and you weren’t about to fight that before you’d tried them. Plus, you’d put the take out in order in already so you were either walking away without food or walking away with a crappy dinner, you may as well try. The lobby of the restaurant was relatively empty, the seating area full when you approached the hostess stand, mentioning you were waiting for takeout. You settled the bill and stepped back to wait until the order was ready. A couple of other people came through in that time, a few looking for tables, a college aged boy with a clear hankering for Chinese, and a girl younger than you also waiting for take out. She did as you had, paying for her order and stepping back to wait, occupying herself with her phone.

A few moments later a worker brought a couple of bags up to the host stand, sorting through them before the host called out,

“Shrimp lo mein, chive pockets and treasure dumplings?” Both you and the girl stepped forward, awkwardly apologizing to each other and the cashier before she spoke.

“Uh, mine was a double order?” The cashier simply looked between you, glancing down at the ticket before they spoke,

“This is for y/n.”

“That would be me.” You waved somewhat awkwardly with a smile and the younger girl stepped back,

“So sorry!” She apologized and you waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You thanked the cashier, and quickly made your way out of the restaurant, eager to get your food home and eat it. Though, the entire time you couldn’t help but feel the girl’s eyes on you, wondering what exactly was going through her head. Then again, having the same order and mixing up whose was whose was probably something that happened more often than not. You shook your head, laughing at yourself, she was probably just offended your order was ready before hers, you really needed to stop reading into these things so much.

**

Heather’s head flicked up from the laptop at the sound of keys in the lock, giving Becca a small smile as she returned to the apartment. The girl quickly hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes, dropping the bags on the kitchen island.

“So…question…?”

“Yes?” Heather mumbled over a bite of whatever she’d found in Becca’s pantry.

“When you saw her today, is there any chance you mentioned Beyond Dumplings having the best shrimp lo mein and treasure dumplings in the city?”

“She asked for restaurant recommendations.” She shrugged, “she’s relatively new in DC, I figured why not start with the best, why?”

“Well…” Becca smirked, leaning against the island for a moment, “I’m ninety percent sure this is a gay thing…. also she’s even cuter in person.”

“What!?” Heather nearly shot up from her seat, her eyes wide.

“Wait…” Becca’s brow furrowed, a mini panic shooting through her, “what are you eating? I didn’t unpack anything yet.” Heather let out a huff, rolling her eyes,

“As soon as you were gone I realized how hungry I was, figured it’d be fine if I snagged a couple of brownies.” She gestured toward the Tupperware on the counter and Becca let out a low gasp.

“How many did you eat?”

“Two.”

“Oh sweet fucking Jesus please put that down.” She laughed, gesturing to the third brownie her mom had picked up.

“Why? Also why have you been holding back on me? Your baking is delicious.” She took another bite and Becca let out a sigh.

“There’s eight milligrams of weed in each of those brownies.”

“What?” Heather’s eyes widened, the brownie dropping from her hand, “why the fuck do you have weed brownies?!”

“Cause Nat can’t exactly risk being photographed smoking a joint!” She explained, scooping up the treat and dropping it back into the container, “and you’ll be fine. The Christmas Jordan left out spiked brownies the doses were double that; we keep them low cause Nat’s technically on call 24/7.” She filled up a glass of water, sliding it towards Heather.

“So I’m just supposed to be the only high one here?”

Becca laughed at that, shaking her head at the slow panic Heather was experiencing, knowing that it would shoot into relaxed giggles pretty quickly.

“No, calm down. Start eating dinner, I’ll go smoke, it’ll hit me faster.” She paused for a moment, “I can trust you to unpack the take out, right?” In return Heather simply shot her a death glare that she cackled at, ducking out onto the balcony for a minute or two before returning back inside.

“You said she was at the restaurant?” Heather asked over a bite of lo mein, “you sure it was her?”

“She had the exact same order as us but half the size, and the right name….and she looked just like that.” She gestured to the laptop screen before beginning to plate up her own dinner, the weed sinking into her system slowly making her even hungrier than before.

“And why does that make this a gay thing?” She asked and the younger woman let out a snort.

“Cause earlier today, you mentioned some good food in the city. And less than what? Like, a few hours later she’s there, ordering exactly what you suggested, alone….if she’d been looking for like, hotspots for date night she would’ve been with someone, or at least a friend, or been picking up a bigger order than she was. She only had enough for one…. She’s probably sitting at home thinking about dinner with you right now.”

“How are you so sure about this?” Heather asked, glancing towards the girl who stared blankly back at her, deadpanning as she spoke.

“How on earth did you have like sixteen fucking affairs and yet you have no idea how to talk to a pretty girl?”

There was a small gap of silence while Heather let out a huff, both thinking of a response that would make sense, one that wouldn’t shift the mood to a bad place, and one that wouldn’t be too influenced by the high, the weed now fully settling in. She popped another dumpling into her mouth, chewing as she thought before swallowing down and turning back to Becca.

“Because I never gave a shit before.” She stated bluntly, “at least not at this stage.”

Becca simply stared back at her for a moment, taking in the very different version of her mother than she was used to. It was so vividly different, and a strange experience from her entire near thirty years of life. Heather had truly had her kids, kept them around ‘til they finished elementary (though the nannies did most of the work) and shipped them off to boarding school the next six years. Becca felt like she barely knew her mom as is, and when she finally came back for Jordan’s graduation, she discovered just how horrible of a human Heather had been and was continuing to be. She’d technically only been a legal adult for a few years in the States when Heather left DC, when everything came crashing down in 2016. So to be seated across from her, high, a little tipsy and talking about crushes, now approaching her thirties….. was beyond bizarre. The entire dynamic had changed. Sure, she was still her kid, but things felt more friendly and less family.

“Well,” she let out a small sigh, pulling her laptop towards her, “then we better make sure she plays for our team, shouldn’t we?”

She clicked through a couple of links, sifting through to y/n’s photo albums, starting with the tagged pictures. There were a few comments here and there as she pointed out things in the photos, Heather either contradicting or agreeing, occasionally insisting on going back or scrutinizing a small detail that Becca would snort a laugh over, saying she needed to stop being such a lawyer. It didn’t take long before the two of them were constantly giggling, Becca teasing her mother over the way she’d jump in her seat at a picture of y/n in formal wear, or one that Becca referred to as a ‘thirst trap’, or one that proved she had the brains to keep up with someone like Heather. Heather scoffing, swatting at her arm before scarfing down another dumpling, sipping at her wine. There was a mutual near shriek of joy when Becca clicked to the next profile picture and it was one of you at Pride, rainbow flag temporary tattoos on both your cheeks with a group of friends.

“So we’re clear then!” Heather giggled and Becca couldn’t help but laugh at her inebriated state.

“She might just be an ally! Or there with friends, I mean, everyone who’s accepting is welcome at these things.”

“Well keep going then!” Heather urged, nudging at her arm.

“Okay, okay!” Becca snorted out a laugh, “but hold on, Facebook is fucking lame, and it’s the social media you have all your old, shitty relatives on, it’s like, the most filtered and guarded ones.”

“Okay?” Heather giggled.

“Gimmie a sec.” She chuckled, picking up her phone to open Instagram. It took a couple of minutes to find your actual page, and thankfully, it wasn’t private. Becca was able to scroll quickly, you didn’t post that often, but as she had guessed, it was more personal on here. “OH!”

“What?!” Heather jolted toward her, lunging for the phone.

“That… is a lesbian flag.” She gestured to the one tied around your neck in the pride photos she swiped through.

“So she’s not just being friendly?”

“No, I would most certainly say she is being much more than friendly.”

Becca raised a brow with a smirk on her cheeks as she nudged Heather with her elbow. A mini fit of laughter broke out between the two of them, the feeling of familiarity and fun filling the air, a sense of comfort encasing the room. It was soon broken by the sound of keys in the lock, both of their heads shooting up to the sound, a smile breaking out on Becca’s cheeks at the sight of her dad entering the apartment.

“Hey…” He glanced between them with a warm grin, “what’s goin on here?”

“Mom has a CRUUSHH!!!” Becca immediately squealed, earning a scoff from Heather.

“Stop it!”

“Never!” She giggled back, “did you want some dumplings?” She offered to Rob as he moved through the room, snagging one from the takeout container.

“So who’s the crush?” He asked, and Becca gestured to the computer screen, “oh! She is a cutie, though I shouldn’t be surprised, you did have great taste in women, look at Nat.”

“Dad ewww!!”

“Oh please” he laughed, “I do believe you had a crush on her when you first met her.”

“Yeah well a lot happened after that.” Becca snorted, “we’re just besties now, and I am very happy with Sarah.”

“Good.” He dropped a kiss to the top her head, he noticed they both had drinks, moving through the kitchen to snag a beer from the fridge while Heather and Becca continued on their sleuthing. He paused for a moment, raising a brow in the direction of Heather before looking to Becca, “why… is she so giggly?” Becca laughed harder at that, pulling an even harder laugh from the older woman as they both collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“She unknowingly ate a couple weed brownies when I left to pick up dinner.” Becca managed between her laughs.

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“She’ll be fine.” She waved it off, “now come help us sleuth!”

Rob let out a bark of a laugh but circled back around the island to group behind them at Becca’s computer as she pulled up a couple other social media sites, searching y/n’s name. They managed to find a couple of reviews, articles, whatever you wanted to call them about her teaching career both overseas and in the States. Rob commended Heather for potentially finding someone that could keep up with her, rather than rely on her for everything, someone that could hold their own.

Heather had been scrolling through y/n’s Instagram, pouting suddenly at what looked like a rather intimate picture of you and another woman. Becca quickly shook her out of it, pointing out the picture was years old, but now the topic of investigation was if you were seeing anyone or not. Some quick math from the more sober Rob helped them figure out that the chances were pretty high, especially since you had mentioned being relatively new to the city.

While the sleuthing continued, Becca suddenly turned to her dad, asking if she’d forgotten dinner plans or something and he laughed, reminding her of their plans to watch the game tonight. While it wasn’t Becca’s favourite past time, it was time she got to spend with her dad, and she enjoyed every chance of that she could get after everything had blown up. The detective work continued while the party moved over to the living room, settling on the couch as the tv was turned on and half paid attention to. Heather once again whined about not being sure if you had been flirting or if you were just trying to be friendly and maybe that was all you wanted. In turn, Becca guided her through the two interactions and conversations that Heather had with you, commenting on what things were definitely flirting, and what might have just been curiosity. She kept the thought to herself but was immensely proud of how Heather had reacted to talking about Jordan and tip toed around what happened before she left Washington without completely ignoring it. In the past she would have just completely lied and twisted her words around to make herself the victim and blame it on everyone else around her. It was yet another piece of her that Becca saw growth in, and in turn, she let down her walls another notch, feeling more and more like she could finally trust her mother again.

It was roughly an hour or so later that Heather let out a heavy yawn, starting to sink deeper into the couch and Becca let out a huff of a laugh.

“You’re gonna pass out any second now, let’s get you to bed. Hopefully I have pyjamas you deem worthy.” She teased, tugging her protesting mother from the couch, “trust me, you won’t make it the time the car service takes to get here, much less the ride back to your place. I know how this works.”

Heather finally gave in and was more than happy to snuggle deep into Becca’s bed, passing out only a moment after her head hit the pillow. Back in the living room Becca managed to make it just to the end goal of the game before Rob turned to her.

“You sure you’re not about to green out on me?”

“Dad…” she whined, rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, “you’re a doctor, you should know the difference between greening out and being sleepy.”

“Why don’t you head to bed kiddo.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” She groaned, pushing up from the couch, “you’re welcome to stay, you know how the futon works.”

“I don’t want to intrude on girl’s weekend.” He gestured toward the bedroom and Becca laughed.

“I had plans with you, she just showed up. Kinda feel bad we didn’t really get our night.”

“Yeah, but you two have a lot of missed time to make up for….”

“You’re right.” She sighed, glancing back toward the bedroom door, “let’s hope it keeps going the way it’s going.”

“Yeah.”

“Night Dad.”

“Sweet dreams kid.”

_____________

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[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

people say "things are so much better now."

I think I was raised with this notion that violence towards women is nothing like it was 100 or 2000 years ago. That rape was down. That we have gotten more heard than was ever possible before. That we are safe.

But recently I have been forced to seriously ask: What policies have been put in place to correct this violence, rape, erasure what new ideologies have allowed women to benefit more now than in the past?"

the conclusion I come to is almost always "none." I look up rape statistics in the US: from 2014 to 2018, the instance of rape has shown a 20 percent increase. according to Rainn, one American is sexually assaulted every 68 seconds. 1 in 6 women have been raped and 1 in 33 men have been raped. (Interestingly, there was no statistic for how many men and women are rapists.) Instances of child-on-child rape in schools are increasing. That's just in the U.S. that isn't counting the millions of child marriages and millions of sex trafficking victims across the world.

Another lie I think is always accepted before we think more critically: "women are getting paid fairly for their work now."

While this isn't even true in practice, it is evident that working women with male partners and children now effectively must work a double shift, taking on the entirety of the housework, childcare, cooking, and emotional labor while still being paid less on average than her husband. The near-full responsibility of the children and the statistically meager earnings of these women means they may have no way to escape from male partners if they become abusive. The social mobility and freedom that "equal pay" promises for women are not often a reality.

It is not that our world is better, but that the crime is hidden more effectively. Hidden, in conservative circles, or, in the case of the liberal, broadcasted so totally (and liberals own the media) that it becomes accepted. Porn culture erodes our understanding of consent and intimacy, so even the nonrapists are neutralized to coercive sex/sexual domination. "It's not bad anymore," they say. "Where sexual domination was once humiliating, it is now liberating." the "reclamation" is not in fact a powerful statement but a Stockholmed concession to a rampant epidemic of rape. Rape is possibly the most horrific assault anyone can go through, and it is normalized. As for the "women work/equal pay" scam, the amount of money from work women are making is measured against men, which gives a skewed but hopeful statistic: 77% of the man's dollar? Well, it's not great, but it's something that can be improved on with patience.

In this statistic, in no case is the emotional labor, childcare labor, sustenance labor (grocery-shopping/cooking, which we cannot discount as minor) of men measured against the emotional, childcare, sustenance labor of women; nor has there ever been a price on this labor because it has always been women's labor. The backbreaking, 24/7 work assumed to be free and mineable, in reality, provides the most necessary products imaginable to men and children: physical sustenance, by preparing meals; emotional sustenance, by being the only friend and confidante their emotionally constipated husbands have, and by being the most powerful, wisest, most dependable figure in their children's lives. Not to mention, because she does all or most of the housework, she is the lone fighter in the war against entropy that her husband, children and time flings at her. litters the house with. She alone restacks the charred and crumbling bricks—that, until she breaks down herself and is declared mentally ill, borderline, antisocial, sent to reprogramming institutions to be fixed.

Women are as if not more exploited than ever before. I think I saw a statistic that says women do over 60 percent of the world's labor, but I can't find it so don't quote me. Even if women did, say, 40% of the manual labor, they without a doubt do damn near 100 percent of the emotional and household labor that literally allows every one of us to survive. Women and girls are still being trafficked in the millions across the world, are raised with rape as the silent or celebrated normality. In The US, women's male partners are literally the number one person most likely to kill them.

Let's not delude ourselves. The people before us thought they were modern and civilized too. That their men would never do those things, having been "raised right", and that they were raised smarter than to fall to abuse. But we are smack dab in the middle of history, not at the top or end of it. We are living the same history that, pointing at our textbooks, we call a nightmare.

[whump-town]

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Shades of You

A/N: Here’s the next in this ‘Kutte Too Deep’ series of flashbacks set in the AU of Kutte to Black! These fics can be read as standalone one shots or as part of this ‘KutteVerse’. This one is just a short ficlet of fluffy smut about you being Jax’s muse and the two of you having hot passionate sex outdoors…

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, a fuck in the park (it’s a secluded little spot of greenery – no one else is actually watching but they could be in theory)

Word Count: ~1.2k

“Babe, can you do that again?”

You glance up from the book that you were just about to begin. In these few weeks since you and Jax became a thing, you’ve spent the better part of all day and night fucking, though you pause from time to time to take his Harley for a ride or something. Head off someplace far from all the dusty streets of Charming. Pack a picnic so that you can spend a lazy afternoon feeding each other grapes and talking. 

For today’s outing Jax also packed a notebook, as he told you that he’s recently been bursting with a surge of inspiration for the novel he’d spent years struggling to write. Apparently just finding the right muse was all it took. He wants to churn out a whole chapter sitting in this park with you, admiring the sunlit view. Promised he’ll let you read his work after he treats you to another epic fuck later tonight.

Meanwhile you’re reclining on this big plaid picnic blanket with the paperback you’d packed, to catch up on some summer reading. But your badass biker boyfriend seems determined to distract. You’re not sure what he means by what he asked—‘do that again’ when you’re not doing much of anything—you’ve literally just been breathing.

From where he’s sitting on a rock nearby with his manuscript spread across his jean-clad thighs, Jax catches the confusion in your eyes. And so he clarifies. “The way you blinked real quickly twice. It was just really nice. Your lashes looked like butterflies.”

Oh Jesus Christ. He’s so fucking adorable, it’s honestly deplorable. You swoon and giggle, playing into it a little. Batting your lashes theatrically and shooting him a sultry look. Still have no clue, just what he sees in you, and yet somehow his every move makes you believe you’re the loveliest thing in the world. “Now if I didn’t know better, Mr. Teller… I’d think you were sketching me rather than writing a book. Draw me like one of your French girls.”

He laughs sunny and bright, shaking his head at your reference to the tear-jerker the two of you just watched the other night. Never did Jax Teller think he would spend a weekend getting all sappy romantic. Asking his girl if she wanted to cuddle and stay up late watching Titanic. 

“Hey, I’d take any excuse to get you naked...” your tall blonde prince charming admits as he sets his notebook aside and strides across the grass to join you on the blanket, “but I promise I’m not a nude lady artist. Just an aspiring writer in love with his muse and everything inspiring about her because she’s the hottest.”

Jax brings his big strong body down to yours and then blesses your lips with a soft kiss to prove that he’s honest. Pulls back to adore you with his gaze of blue. “You’re in everything I do. I see the world in shades of you.”

Fuck—every word that he breathes is a sonnet. This love is a drug, and you’ll live and die riding high on it. “You’re corny as fuck and I love you.”

Grins darkly and grinds the stiff bulge of his cock against your crotch as he knows how badly you want it. “I’m horny as fuck, too.”

“Mmm, what else is new...”

Without words, with the crush of his summer-lush lips against yours, he replies though you already know this is true: Everything is shiny and new when I’m with you.

Every damn time feels like the first. Everything blurs, present and future ever fading into past. The thrust of untold fate—the rushed soul-crushing weight, the fucking curse—compels you both to take each time like it’s the last.

The man in him loves smooth and soft and full of slow sensuous passion. But the beast in him moves rough and hard and fast. The fucking sex god that is Jackson. Barely even needs a second or a fraction, for his huge cock to get rock solid once he is at half-mast.

Moan into his mouth at the feeling of his denim-covered length. Rubbing against the flimsy fabric of your skirt, so hard it hurts. His hand caresses your cheek, giving you the strength, to take this love that makes you weak. Love beyond words. Your tongues were made to tangle up and taste the truth too big to speak.

Sometimes he says it anyway, though you both know he means more than the words could ever say. Says it a thousand times a day.

“Love you so fucking much,” he murmurs and the love tastes so delicious, in the blissful midst of kisses, as you melt beneath his touch.

Jax’s hand wanders from your face down toward your chest, shape of his grip made for your breasts. Beat of your heart rewrites the lines across the palm to which it’s pressed. His other hand is frantically unfastening his fly, then hiking up your skirt with a firm squeeze against the slick flesh of your inner thigh. So pleased yet not surprised to find that you’re already a wet mess. Both know there’s no one else nearby... no witness, other than the sky... but still out here it seems safest, to free his meat and push your panties to the side but otherwise stay dressed.

And so he does and wastes no time driving in deep until his dick hits home inside your soaking hole. So deep it hits your fucking soul. Hits every time and it’s the motherfucking best.

Something so blessed... has to be cursed. You think that way sometimes and it’s the fucking worst. Like fate is twisting you to tempt the pearly gates ahead and this is just a test. 

But when his hips are thrusting perfectly in sync with yours... his throbbing cock pounding and plowing through your pussy till it bursts... there’s nothing else on earth that matters—nothing else in all the universe... just ride this crest of pleasure, high together, as you crash the pearly gates until they shatter, and to hell with all the rest.

Sun spreads its golden heat and sheds light through the overhanging tree. So long content to shine upon this rock that orbits in its gravity—yet seething now in envy—so enraged at the eclipse, the air you’re breathing off his lips, the fire in his fingertips, so hot and heavy—heavenly. He is the only sun you’ll ever see.

The sun and shadow all at once. Heaven is here on earth yet someday hell will come claim what it wants. Can’t beat it back. But you don’t have to when he’s buried in your cunt. Beneath the shade of Jax, all else just fades to black.

You see the world in shades of him. Just as he does of you.

You love him, as he loves you, and you’ll make this love until the jealous sun burns out above you... even if it tempts the other stars to take it from you.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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[julemmaes]

ahem... cassian taking nesta to that bookstore (fluff, don’t try making shit sad aight?)

Our First Non-Date

SURPRISE I GUESS!!

Nessian Archeron x Cassian

You can find the first part here.

A/N: this month has been really nice on me. I finally feel better, not crying every day for literally nothing and I wanna dedicate this to my fren Sim (@perseusannabeth) cause homegirl just finished the offcampus series and she's grieving. I know she is. So yep. Take some Nessian fluff

And Nina, I had to add some angsty parts, but they're not Irene Angst Level, okay?

Word count: 6,833

When Cassian had called her back the night after their outing with Amren and Varian, she'd stared at the phone for a full minute until it had stopped ringing and she could go back to reading the article on poisonous plants that Elain had sent her.

It hadn't even been five minutes before the words had been obscured from the call screen again and the name "Cassian Navarro" appeared.

When she had ignored the call for the second time as well, he had decided to change tactics.

Hi Nes, I was thinking about when you'd be free to go to the library. I need a couple of manuals because I'm building a little gazebo in Rhys and Feyre's garden and your sister is putting a lot of pressure on me, so I was wondering if you had the day off tomorrow.

Nesta was stunned at the amount of useless information he had given her, but managed to reply with a simple, Working tomorrow, day off on Wednesday. Sending you the address later.

She certainly hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to get up that day, her will to live must have been hiding somewhere under her bed and Nesta didn't know if it was directly related to their going out or just her stupid brain not being able to connect to real life.

The only other worst thing she'd been able to think of at that moment was having to explain to Cassian what was going on, so, pulled out of bed by the future embarrassment they'd feel in such a situation, she'd managed to dress, wash and style her hair so that she had a braid crowning her head.

She hadn't put too much effort into deciding what to wear, after all, it wasn't a date and Cassian had seen her many times before in far more outrageous and scruffy clothes than the comfortable black jeans and grey jumper she was wearing right now.

The silence had made her uncomfortable at first, only because Cassian seemed to be really stressed - about what, she certainly wouldn't ask - but after about ten minutes, he'd turned on the radio and popped a CD into the player and the melody of a Verve song had filled the cabin.

She'd started humming under her breath and he'd looked at her with a faint smile on his lips and his eyes sparkling. She hadn't mulled over that look too much, but she'd started eyeing him more closely and noticed the way he narrowed his eyes at every street sign and how he ran a hand over his face every time a strand of hair landed in front of his eyes.

When Cassian had to blow the hair out of his face for the millionth time, Nesta pulled a rubber band off her wrist and handed it to him abruptly.

Cassian looked surprised, but took it almost immediately, brushing her fingers. Nesta immediately withdrew her hand, feeling how warm and calloused his were.

"Thanks, my hair is killing me today," he finally spoke.

Nesta continued to look ahead, noticing that they were about to enter the highway. "Well, it wasn't very wise of you not to tie it up before you got in the car. I never drive with my hair down."

He nodded slowly, still with the band clutched between his fingers. And then, suddenly he let go of the steering wheel, "Hold that for me for a second." and Nesta's eyes went wide, launching herself at him to grab it and keep the car in their lane.

"Are you nuts?" she almost shrieked, keeping her gaze fixed on the road and feeling every nerve ending vibrate with anger.

"Relax." he said in a calm tone, shifting her hands and gently pushing her back into her seat one more time. "It wasn't even five seconds."

Nesta huffed out a laugh that lacked amusement, "You do something like that again without warning me first and I'm getting out of the car."

Cassian looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "A bit dramatic, but alright."

She sighed, shaking her head slightly and resting it on her hand propped against the window.

That awkward silence fell again and Nesta couldn't figure out what the problem was. She hadn't felt any kind of unease three days before, but after all, they'd been with friends and busy walking, not stuck in a car for two hours with no chance of walking away or splitting up.

And in that moment, the reality of their situation overwhelmed her.

She forced herself to steady her breathing, opening the window slightly so that more air could get in. She forced herself to think about all the things she would see today at the library and how beautiful and spectacular it had looked from mere pictures. She wasn't going to let her twisted mind stop her from having fun with someone who was desperately trying to be her friend.

She took a deep breath and a surprising calm enveloped her. She looked to her left to see if Cassian had noticed that temporal change in her behaviour, but it seemed to her that he was just as fidgety.

She was about to ask him if he was okay, because the knee that kept bouncing and the fingers opening and closing on the steering wheel were obvious nervous tics, when he did the eye thing again, this time leaning forward over the dashboard as well, and the sharp turn he took to the right caused her to shift in her seat so much that she bumped her shoulder against his.

Cassian grimaced, "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" she asked, readjusting in her seat.

"Sorry?"

"What's the matter? With your eyes, I mean."

"Oh." he seemed surprised by the question, almost as if he hadn't realised she'd been observing him for the last twenty minutes. He cast her a curious glance immediately returning to the road. "I wear glasses when I drive, but I couldn't find them this morning and these contacts are the wrong shade and I can't see very well."

Nesta nodded thoughtfully, "Where do you normally keep them?"

"In the glove box. But I already checked," he replied, rolling his shoulders. Another nervous tic.

Nesta had to suppress a smile. There was no way he could be so worked up just because they were talking. She looked down at the phone in her hand to check the time, and a flash of light momentarily dazzled her. She blinked a couple of times and then scoffed, "Found them."

She reached a hand towards the hatch compartment and pulled out a pair of very plain black glasses, handing them to him. Cassian seemed to finally relax since she'd gotten into the car.

"Thank fuck." then he pulled into a lay-by and without turning off the car, slipped two fingers in his eye, removing one contact and then the other, leaving Nesta stunned. He put the glasses on his nose and flashed her a smile that went from ear to ear. And Nesta was stunned for other reasons.

She couldn't deny that Cassian was an attractive man. She wasn't stupid or blind, but the man next to her should have come with a warning sign or a bell.

Attention, hot stuff coming your way.

Nesta forgot the comment she had wanted to make about how antigenic and risky it had been to remove his contacts without first cleaning his hands and in such a dirty environment.

His hair tied back in a messy bun, with the hint of a beard he was letting grow, and now his glasses on, Cassian looked like a model on the cover of a newspaper about sexy carpenters. The short-sleeved black shirt he wore that pulled on his huge biceps every time he moved in the slightest was just one more point to add to the list of things that made him appealing.

"So," he began, getting back on the road, "what's your favourite colour?"

Nesta snorted, "Are you serious?"

Cassian seemed to blanch, "What?"

"Have you ever been out with a girl?" she asked him sarcastically, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He clenched his jaw so hard that a muscle popped out on his face, "Only on dates."

"And this isn't a date." pointed out Nesta, holding back a laugh at how tortured he sounded.

"It's not."

Nesta touched the tip of her nose, thoughtful, "Shouldn't this be easier for you then?"

Cassian released a breath through his nose, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now."

"Yeah?" she asked, looking away and smiling.

"Yeah, and stop looking like you're enjoying it." he retorted.

She feigned innocence, "Enjoying what?"

"My pain." he sheeted.

Nesta laughed, unable to contain herself any longer and when he glared at her, she covered her mouth with one hand, laughing harder. Only when he snapped his fingers against the steering wheel did she stop, laying a hand on his arm, just for a few seconds, "I'm so sorry." she wheezed, "I just don't understand. When you're hanging out with my sisters or Amren, or Mor, I don't know, you don't seem to be in this much discomfort."

Cassian sighed again and Nesta chuckled one last time, stopping when he smiled slightly. "I'm just trying not to make you uncomfortable. You accepted I take you on this non-date, and I'm doing my best not to flirt badly with you every chance I get." he confessed, nodding slowly, as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing and not wasting their time.

Nesta was genuinely surprised at his answer and decided to offer him an olive branch.

"My favourite colour is blue."

"Nice." he smiled, showing a hint of a dimple, "Mine is red."

"It's too bright of a colour," she said lightheartedly.

Cassian chuckled, "I'm pretty sure it reflects my peppy personality."

Nesta nodded, "I read an article once about how a person's favourite colour says a lot about the person themselves," she said annoyed, "It sounded like one of those quizzes you find in gossip magazines, like it was written by a third grader. I hate those things, like horoscopes."

He grunted, "God, Mor's obsessed with horoscopes..."

The conversation continued without any more awkward silences for the remainder of the ride, and when Cassian turned onto a bumpy road, Nesta knew they were close. Of course, even if she hadn't looked at the directions from her house to the place, the myriad cars parked along the road would have been an indication.

They parked in the first vacant spot they could find and as soon as Nesta was out of the car, an icy gust of wind hit her face, making her shiver with cold. She looked over the bonnet at Cassian and found him staring at her with a half smile on his face. He'd left his glasses in the car and had let his hair down again, her hair band on his wrist, and he looked even prettier than before.

"Do you want my jacket?" he asked her, with a conflicted look on his face, as if he didn't want to. Nesta narrowed her brows and he hurried to add, "There's no hidden agenda to my offer, just a friend lending a jacket to another friend."

Nesta watched him for a moment, trying to really understand his intentions, but then remembered reading in one of the reviews that the library was heated inside and shook her head.

Cassian gave a small nod of assent and then pointed down the street, "Shall we?"

From where they had parked to the library it would have been about a ten minute walk and Nesta couldn't help but notice the way Cassian kept his distance between them as if he was afraid she would get scared and run away.

He was back to fidgeting nervously with his fingers and when he realised she was looking at him, he put them in his pockets, smiling tensely at her. He took a deep breath and then said, "So, what do you know about this library?"

Nesta looked ahead, hoping to catch a glimpse of the building, but the foliage of the trees was still too thick and they were still too far away for it to see anything. She brought her hands to her stomach, crossing her fingers, "I actually did a bit of research before I came. Did you know that the Peace Treaty between Prythian and Hybern of 1864 was signed here?" she asked in an excited voice.

Cassian smiled at her so naturally that she felt herself blush. He had an expression she couldn't decipher, but Nesta had never been good at cracking people in general, so she didn't venture to continue until he said, "Tell me more."

And Nesta launched into a detailed description of the events that had taken place inside the building, which only a hundred years before had become a bookstore. Only one wing of the building had been furnished in such a way as to become a real shop, the rest had been set up to be visited as a museum, one of the oldest libraries. She talked about the architecture and how it was obvious that the palace had been built long before it became an important meeting place for scholars and researchers.

"And in 1932 a fire destroyed the science wing, burning more than a hundred textbooks." Nesta sighed, thinking how devastating that loss had been. She lit up with happiness when she remembered what happened next. "But luckily, one of the most important literary clubs in the city got together and they managed to recover a small portion of the books. It took them years to rewrite every manual, but they got help from one of the local researchers, a certain Mr. Hawthorn, I can't remember the name or details of the research, only that he's mentioned often in the article I read."

When she paused to catch her breath, Nesta realised with immense horror what had just happened. Cassian had not spoken a word after asking her if she knew anything about the place and she had monopolised the conversation without even acknowledging him once. She felt herself flare up and knew in that moment that any hope they had of becoming real friends was gone.

Sometimes she would get lost in thought and ramble on about the things she was passionate about. Quite often people had stopped her, letting her know they weren't interested in the subject, but Cassian had never interrupted her and she was afraid to look at him, convinced she would only find boredom and disgust on his face.

That was why, when he spoke, she was struck dumb.

"I'm impressed." he breathed, chuckling immediately afterwards.

Nesta pushed herself to look at him and he stood admiring her with his mouth slightly open, as if he couldn't find the words. She felt her heart clench in her chest so tightly that she didn't know if she could survive the pain. Who knows how many times he'd tried to stop her and she'd gone on and on about windows and arches and treaties of peace.

But when she got a better look at him, stopping in front of him, Cassian looked... happy.

He let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair, and Nesta was distracted for a moment by the sway of his arms before she was brought violently back down to earth when he said, "You surprise me more and more every time, Nesta."

And the way he said her name - Ne-sta - made her toes curl.

"Why?" she managed to throw out in a weak voice.

Cassian laughed again, raising his eyebrows so high they ended under the hair on his forehead, locking his eyes to hers. "I have a degree in history and my final thesis happened to be on this very library." Nesta felt the ground open up beneath her feet and hoped it swallowed her alive. "I came out of university with top marks and various accolades for finishing my studies on time and you, dreadful creature that you are, have just taught me at least three new things about this place."

His gaze was so intense that Nesta had to lower her head to hide the satisfied and surprised smirk that popped up on her lips.

"You're amazing." huffed Cassian, "Perfect in every way."

She shrugged.

"Although," he clicked his tongue against his palate, "You made a mistake."

Nesta looked up at him, frowning, "Oh, yeah?"

Cassian nodded, smirking fiercely, "Why don't you turn around and admire the palace, and once we're inside, I'll explain what it is?"

She must have been so lost in her chatter that she hadn't noticed that they had arrived in the large entrance forecourt, because when she turned, her back to Cassian, the building stood among the forest trees, as imposing and splendid as ever. The photos had not done it justice in the slightest and Nesta was left speechless.

Living in a country with a history going back millennia, it wasn't hard to stumble upon historic streets with old buildings and monuments, but this was completely different.

She was still admiring the way the stone around the windows had been carved to look like trees trying to get into the building when she felt something settle on the small of her back. A hand.

Nesta stiffened slightly, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

Cassian must have noticed her discomfort because a moment later his hand was no longer touching her.

They entered the museum part of the building in silence and Nesta paid the entrance fees, reminding him of the tea he'd offered her last Sunday and Cassian hadn't been able to argue with that.

They had just passed the doors to the first room, the smallest in the entire palace, when he leaned towards her, to the point of touching her ear with his lips.

The fact that he was whispering as if they had been in a sacred place did things to her little icy heart, "Mr. Hawthorn was not a man."

Shocked by that information, Nesta's head snapped in his direction and she realised too late that she had miscalculated the space.

Her lips brushed against his cheek, the corner of his lips, before Cassian reacted so quickly he startled her, but avoiding them both an involuntary first kiss. His sudden movement caused him to lose his balance and he reached out his hands towards her, straightening as he held on to her shoulders.

Both of them were holding their breath.

Cassian cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the wall of books, but returning to look at her soon after, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, you just surprised me," she said when she had recovered. "I must have read the article wrong."

He was still watching her and shook his head, "Oh no, I don't think it's that. They only found out a few months ago that it was Georgina and not George Hawthorn. They found letters in the house of what was thought to be Hawthorn's wife. Some people think they were just friends, but anyone who has read the letters they exchanged knows full well that they were lovers. Anyone who says otherwise is either homophobic or stupid."

Nesta realised that she could have listened to this for hours on end. And so it was.

The visit continued relatively quietly, Cassian explaining every detail to her, expanding on things she already knew and when he forgot something, she would step in and have her say, commenting on every little aspect.

She'd noticed how Cassian hadn't tried to touch her anymore and how whenever someone was about to bump into her, he'd vocally warn her instead of wrapping an arm around her shoulders to move her out of their way like he had on Sunday.

The visit to the museum lasted less than expected unfortunately, because Nesta hadn't had this much fun in too long. It was becoming easier to smile at him or tease him when he said dumb things and even he seemed to finally be more at ease when he had to make jokes that smacked of him.

When they finally got to the shop, Nesta couldn't stand on her feet anymore, she just wanted to buy all the books she saw and go home and arrange them on her shelves.

"Which section do you want to see first?" she asked him, even though she had started hopping impatiently about the place.

Cassian gave her a smug look, "Why don't you go wherever you want and I'll look for the manuals for the gazebo in the meantime? That way you don't waste time keeping up with me. I'll be right there."

Nesta let out an excited squeal and ran off, hearing only the echo of laughter that shook Cassian from head to toe.

***

As Cassian flipped through the various books to find a picture of a gazebo that looked similar to the one Feyre had requested, he kept casting glances at Nesta.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed book after book without even reading the synopses. She was in the romance novels section, from what he could see from where he stood, but soon ended up in the classics, where she grabbed just as many books. She moved to the mystery books section, this time stopping to read the plots and putting most of them back on the shelves.

Then, surprising Cassian, she walked over to where the historical novels were and turned to face him. He bent his head to the side, raising an eyebrow to ask her what she was doing there. Nesta seemed at a loss, trying to move all the books from one arm to the other to point him to join her, but Cassian was already halfway there and when she looked back up at him and found him standing in front of her, she gave him a bright smile.

"Hello." she exclaimed.

Cassian's breath caught for a second before he too sighed a greeting.

"I was thinking," Nesta began, running her eyes over the titles in front of them, "that you could recommend something about..." she wiggled her fingers as much as she could, trying to point to the shelf, and Cassian leaned forward, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Here," he removed the first stack of books from her arms and she sagged a little, giving him a thankful look. "I can go get a bag so you can put them all in there and you don't have to carry them like this," he said taking all the books and having her help him arrange them so they wouldn't fall out.

He smiled at her over all the books, looking down at her and she smiled back just as happily.

Hell, if she looked at him like that every time he took her to a bookstore he should do it more often.

He had just turned to go towards the entrance, where he had seen special bags for carrying books, but Nesta stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.

"Wait!" she exclaimed almost impishly.

Cassian turned his head, genuinely worried that something had happened to her in the mere seconds he had been shot. He must have moved too fast, because one of the smaller classics flew off the top of the stack and landed right in her face.

Nesta groaned at the impact and brought her hands to her face, rubbing her forehead where it hurt.

"Oh my God, are you okay?!" he asked with wide eyes. And then Nesta laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she stared at him and he visibly relaxed. "Christ, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw a book at you."

She waved a hand in mid-air, to let him know it was nothing, and bent down to pick up what he realised was A Vindication of the Rights of Woman. Of course Nesta was reading feminist classics.

She turned back to the books as if nothing had happened and Cassian had the urge to look for a list of all the bookstores in the world to take her to if it meant having her in such a good mood by his side, it didn't matter if she would never agree to go on a real date with him, he realised. As long as he could see her smile like that, he didn't need anything else.

"So, I was saying, before you battered me with a book-" she cast an amused glance over one shoulder at him.

He frowned, muttering, "I said sorry."

Nesta ignored him, "What do you recommend?"

Cassian blinked.

"You said you read historical novels right?" she asked, looking for confirmation, "You could recommend your favourites. But not the English or Russian classics. Or French ones. Chances are I've already read those."

Cassian was stunned. Nesta wanted advice on books. From him.

They were silent for too long as she turned around impatiently, "You lied?"

He looked surprised, "When?"

"When you said you were reading. Were you just doing it to impress me or were you serious?" she asked and maybe Cassian imagined it, but she looked disappointed.

He was quick to reply, "The Black Coat, by Neamat Imam. It's pretty recent, but set in the 1970s in Bangladesh. It's about a man who needs help and seeks it from a journalist he asks for work and one of the main themes is the famine that hit the country after it became independent. It's not my absolute favourite, but it certainly gives you something to think about."

Nesta nodded, searching through the titles and finding it almost immediately, "Anything else?"

Cassian felt his neck heat up and coughed a little before resuming speaking. "The Long Ships by Frans G. Bengtsson. Set in the tenth century, it's about a Viking who is called Red because of his hair and focuses on the European political outlook in the late Viking Age. Again, it's not as good as the historical classics, but it's nice and shows a way of life that we're definitely not used to. It's different."

After looking for a few minutes, Nesta gave up reading and turned to him, crossing her arms. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, "What's your favourite book?"

Cassian shrugged, settling the books against his chest, "I think at the moment it's The King Must Die by Mary Renault. But I change my mind every month when I find something more interesting or captivating."

She nodded thoughtfully, "I'll take that one then."

And Cassian wished he could change the title immediately because... what if she didn't like it? Or if she thought it was a stupid book? What would she think of him then?

But Nesta had already found a copy a few shelves down and there was no turning back.

He could counterattack, though, "What about yours? You're not going to give me any advice on feminist classics or blatantly trashy romance novels?"

Nesta opened her mouth wide, looking outraged as she placed the latest addition on the pile, settling the book under her chin, "How can you say they're trashy if you don't even know what they're about?"

Cassian chuckled, "On the cover of You Came," he said as he gave her a sly look, "there's something called a 'spicymeter'. How am I supposed to take you seriously?"

Nesta blushed, "I read erotic novels, so what? I have to keep myself busy in my spare time somehow."

And then he challenged her, "Get me the hottest book you've ever read," he said in a joking tone, "I'll go get the bag in the meantime."

She had already left for the section when he had an idea that would surely doom him depending on how Nesta would react.

He walked up to the cashier's desk, making sure she didn't notice, and begging the clerk behind the counter to be quick, paid for all her books, gently placing them back in the bags.

When he reached her again, she seemed not to have noticed anything.

"'So, what did you get me? Ride Me? Fucked You Good? Last Night I Gave You A Thousand Orgasms?" he teased her with an annoyed grin on his lips.

Nesta gave him a fiery glance before noticing the bags, quite different from those you put the things you wanna buy in, and closed her mouth tightly. She frowned and looked at them for so long before speaking that Cassian began to feel self-conscious.

"You paid for my books?" she whispered, looking at him.

He nodded.

"It's not a date, Cassian," she reminded him for the umpteenth time.

"I know, but-"

"So why would you pay for things that are mine?"

He couldn't read her. She wasn't hinting at anything.

She didn't look angry but she didn't look impressed or grateful either.

Cassian placed the bags on the ground between them and Nesta followed his every movement with her eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, "My adoptive family is filthy rich. I have a trust fund that I never get to spend on things I really want to do, the only way I get to use it is by giving gifts to my friends, so just accept these as my first gift - friend to friend - and call it a day."

Nesta continued to be impassive as she kept her eyes fixed on the books.

Perhaps he had gone too far. After all, she had taken more than a hundred and fifty euros worth of stuff, but he really didn't mind.

He was about to apologise, tell her she could give the money back if it made her feel better. Cassian would find a way to spend it back on her at other times anyway.

Then she raised her head, handing him two books with hilarious covers to say the least, "These two have storylines full of plot twists. You won't be able to put them down, but don't expect big epic battles or Viking warriors. It's just two college kids trying to survive in the modern world while finding solace in each other."

He didn't even have time to thank her that she was already across the room and waiting in line so she could pay them.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

"I guess you'll be paying for these two," he said as he caught up with her.

Nesta didn't even look at him, pulling out her wallet, "A gift from a friend to a friend."

As they walked back to the car, Cassian offered to carry the bags, but she didn't want to hear one more word so they had managed to compromise and had split the load equally.

They'd been on the road for about thirty minutes now and Nesta had gone through every book he'd bought her, talking about all the previous works by the authors she was holding in her hand at the moment.

Cassian could have died like that. Happy, relaxed, listening to the plots of those dirty books with no moral lessons to teach the reader, just pure entertainment.

He wondered at that moment if he would make it through the first few chapters of the books she had offered him and let out a heavy breath through his nose as he turned right towards the coast.

Nesta looked at him wide-eyed, stopping her rant about the headmaster's son getting the occasional model student to fall in love with him. She brought a hand to her mouth, "Oh dear, sorry, I'm boring you. I'm sorry."

He gave her a confused look ready to tell her she didn't have to apologise, but she continued.

"Sometimes I do and I don't even realize it. And I realize they're not challenging plots where you have to apply some hidden lobe of the brain to understand them, but they distract me from everyday problems, you know? It's fun to be able to unplug a few hours after I get home from work and-"

"Jesus, Nesta, stop!" he laughed, placing a hand on her thigh. She sighed. "You don't have to apologise. Not when you're so excited about something." he looked at her slyly, offering her a reassuring smile, "In fact, I'm glad you're talking so much today. Normally I have to pull the words out of your mouth."

She blushed slightly and then grew sullen soon after, sitting up straighter, "This isn't the way to Velaris, where are we going?"

Cassian didn't answer.

"You're taking me into the woods aren't you?"

"We literally just came out of a forest."

She ignored him.

"I knew it. You're a serial killer."

"Nes-"

"You're a little dense though. Why would you spend so much on someone if you're going to murder them?"

He decided to ignore her, chuckling, "I'm taking you to the beach."

"Why?" she asked, somewhat unconvinced.

Cassian shrugged, "I wanted to see the sunset."

"You didn't ask."

He sighed, gripping the steering wheel, "Okay," he whispered, then louder, "You want to go to the beach and watch the sunset?"

She nodded in assent and then continued to read the plots aloud.

And Cassian could have sworn he was in heaven.

***

Nesta gathered more sand, making a small ball out of it and placing it on the top of one of the towers she had made so far.

"Where did you learn to make such good sandcastles?" asked Cassian suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She jumped in the air, turning to face him and noticing the satisfied smile on his face for having taken her by surprise.

Nesta didn't answer him immediately, but allowed herself to admire him a bit.

Since they had arrived at the beach, they had taken off their shoes and were now both barefoot and then Cassian had bent down and started to roll his trousers around his ankles, offering to do it to her jeans as well, but Nesta had refused. She had sat down, looking at the sea for a while, while he walked along the shore and collected stones and shells.

When he had come back to her and shown them to her, asking her to make a sandcastle, she had laughed at first, but faced with his serious expression, she had been unable to do anything but get up and roll up her sleeves, moving to where the sand was a little more workable.

She looked away from that heavenly vision and made another ball, placing it next to the one she had just made. "When I was little my mum never let me do these, she said I'd get too much sun and forced me and Elain to stay under the umbrella all day," she replied truthfully, remembering the cruel bite of jealousy watching the children on the shore.

"And Feyre?"

Cassian had joined her, kneeling beside her and had begun to place the shells so that they served as windows to the towers.

Nesta sighed, "Feyre was still too little when Mini Me wanted to build sandcastles, but as soon as I became 'too old to play like a kid'," she gave him a knowing look, mimicking her mother's voice, "and Feyre started to figure out she was an actual being, Mama let her do whatever she wanted. Even stand in the sun for hours on end." she shrugged. "Whether it was out of indifference or love, I never understood."

Cassian had been silent the whole time and now he watched her, hands on his thighs as he waited for her to give him more. For her to tell him another little piece of her soul.

So she offered him a forced smile, "So to answer your question, it's all pent-up creativity."

"Well, you're very good at it," he granted her. "I can imagine what you could have done if your mother hadn't been so strict."

Well, yeah.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"What about me?"

"Did you go to the beach a lot?"

Cassian smiled weakly, getting up and heading towards the water to collect more shells. He nodded a couple of times and then said, "My mum and I loved coming to the beach and she loved making castles. And she always put so many 'windows' on the towers-"

Nesta turned to look at their work, realising how many shells he had placed on the piles of sand. She smiled softly, covering her eyes from the sun and watching him walk towards her.

"We always came when she was free from work."

A charged silence settled between them until Cassian chuckled, drawing her attention, "What?"

"You said this wasn't a date. And that we're just friends. Right?"

Shifting her gaze to him, she noticed how he kept his hands hidden behind his back and the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't reassure her at all. Slowly she stood up, nodding.

"So, I must treat you as I would treat my friends. Correct?"

"Cassian, I swear to god that-"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence that something wet and sticky landed in her face with a resounding splash, making her jump back.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when a strong smell of stale water and seaweed flooded her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes again, wiping the seaweed from her face, Cassian was doubled over in laughter.

She didn't even give him time to get up when she started to run towards him - to do what, she had no idea - but he started to run away too and soon they were chasing each other all around the beach, not noticing the sweet looks they were getting from the people around them.

At that moment, Nesta was running so fast that she could feel the wind in her hair and the smell and sound of the sea, together with the laughter of the man who was chasing her, mixed with her own and the continuous tapping of her feet on the sand, made her feel alive.

She felt Cassian come closer every few metres until two strong arms wrapped around her waist and she was pulled up and spun around in the air.

A surprised yelp escaped her as Cassian laughed in her ear, "Gotcha!"

It wasn't until he stopped spinning with her in his arms that they realised the position they were in and immediately broke away, laughing embarrassed.

Nesta turned to face him, her face red from running and her breathing laboured. He was in no better condition. His hair was pointing in all directions and his sculpted chest was rising and falling with haste under the black fabric of his shirt.

He looked away first, scratching the back of his neck and fixing his eyes on the sunset, and offered her his arm as they returned to where they had left theirs things unattended.

Nesta shook her head, laughing one last time and started to run, " Last to reach the castle is stupid!"

Cassian burst out laughing, but he caught up to her in the blink of an eye and they both knew that she had doomed herself to lose. That's why, when he fell tripping over his feet, Nesta knew he had done it on purpose.

She helped him up and they sat back as in silence they watched the sun go down, disappearing past the horizon and the blending lights of the sky created a breathtaking spectacle.

Nesta couldn't have noticed, too busy admiring the clouds, but Cassian had been watching her the whole time, trying to understand how something as sombre and secretive as her could look so bright just by being.

The journey back was silent, but this time the silence was not awkward. They both welcomed it with open arms, a new awareness that there was no need for it to be filled with chatter and that gave Nesta the opportunity to close her eyes for a moment and doze off.

When the car stopped outside her flat, Nesta was surprised to find that she didn't want to get out.

She turned to Cassian after she had gathered her things and nodded, "I had fun today."

He gave her a genuine smile, looking surprised, "Me too."

And then she permanently shocked him, adding, "I'm not working on Saturday, we could do it again. Changing location."

He blinked once. Twice. Then he nodded, "Sure."

He didn't seem to want to say anything more, so Nesta waved goodbye to him and then got out, not waiting for an answer from him.

Cassian stood motionless in the car park of her flat for another half hour, trying to figure out what had just happened, and when the reality of things finally dawned on him, he smiled, "Fuck yeah."

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[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ruki Maniac [Epilogue]

ー The scene starts outside of the Tsukinami manor

Yuma: Ya bastard, why are ya here...!? 

Shin: Outsiders should keep their mouths shut. I came here to talk to her.

I’m the one you’re looking for, no?

Yui: ...

Please...Let Ruki-kun and Azusa-kun go.

Shin: I don’t mind. It’s not those Vampires we want after all.

However, you will run once we lose our hostages, right? That’s something I’d rather avoid.

Yui: ...I won’t. I promise I won’t run away so...Please spare them.

Shin: Hm...Really?

ー Shin moves close to her

Yui: ...!

Shin: If you’re willing to make such big promises, can you vow that you will become mine? If you do, I don’t mind believing you.

Kou: Fuck off! Who would do thatーー!

Shin: Didn’t you hear me when I said outsiders should shut up!?

You see...I’m asking her this question.

Yui: ...I promise.

Yuma: Oi!!

Shin: A spoken promise alone isn’t enough.

Right, I want a pact. A tangible pledge...Which proves that you have officially become mine. 

Yui: ...What should I do? 

Shin: Oh you know, don’t you?

I’ll be taking your everything. ...Your blood, and your body as well. All of it.

Kou: ...You can’t!! We’d never let that happen!

Shin: Oh, is that so? There’s no deal then. I guess you don’t care what happens to the hostages. 

Yui: W-Wait!

( ...Everything comes at a price. Right, Ruki-kun? )

( I am prepared to make this sacrifice...If it means I can save Ruki-kun and Azusa-kun. )

...Okay. I will do as you say.

Yuma: Oi...!

Kou: You can’t do that!!

Shin: Haha! I expected no less from the one chosen as Eve. What a kind girl you are.

Yui: ...Sorry, you two.

Kou: No...This isn’t right...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Shin’s room

Yui: ...

Shin: It’s the first time I’ve let you inside my room, right?

Yui: ...Where are Ruki-kun and the others?

Shin: No need to be so suspicious. Right now, the two unharmed guys are carrying their brothers out of the dungeon. 

Let’s get straight to business...I suppose it’s time you live up to the promises you’ve made?

Yui: ...I know. However, only after I’ve personally seen that they’re all safe and sound. 

Shin: Heeh...You manage to stay awfully brave despite the circumstances. I’m honestly impressed. 

Sure. Why don’t you take a look out of the window? You should be able to catch a glimpse of them leaving as we speak. 

Yui: ( The window... )

Shin: You can see them, right? The two hostages are there as well. 

Yui: ( ...Both Ruki-kun and Azusa-kun are completely battered and bruised...! )

( ...I wonder what kind of torture they were put through? )

( But...They’re okay now. )

Shin: This should do, right? I kept my part of the deal.

Yui: ...Thank you very much.

Shin: Then nextーー

*Rustle*

Shin: It’s your turn, no?

Yui: Uu...

Shin: Don’t be so scared. 

No need to worry...You are very, very precious to us as well. 

I’ll be very gentle with you...

ー The screen fades to black

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki: ...Ugh...

Monologue

ーー My whole body hurts. 

While barely able to even open my eyes,

I found myself in a deep slumber,

as if trying to escape from the pain.

ー A flashback ensues

Karlheinz: ...Haah.

Ruki: What is the matter, Karlheinz-sama? Is there something saddening you?

Karlheinz: Well...I was just thinking that my sons are not making great progress.

Ruki: ...Are you talking about the Apple of Eden Project?

Karlheinz: I wonder why they are so far away from attaining love...At this rate, it will be another failed attempt. 

Ruki: My apologies for the wording but...Your sons all seem rather deviant in one way or another. 

Karlheinz: Haha. My thoughts exactly.

Well, they are my sons after all. They aren’t all obedient, good boys like you are, Ruki.

Ruki: ...

Karlheinz: However, I long for the day I am set free. Well then, what should I do...?

Ruki: ...This may seem awfully imprudent of me. 

But if letting things progress naturally results in failure, perhaps it is worth trying out the opposite approach? 

Karlheinz: Which implies? 

Ruki: We will manually create the right circumstances for Adam’s awakening. 

Karlheinz: ...I see. However, how would you go about that?

Ruki: A boat cannot proceed without any waves. In which case, we will become those waves. 

Karlheinz-sama. Please let us four brothers meet Eve as well.

Taking the role of the snake, we will attempt to seduce her. By doing so, it is highly likely she will find her Adam.

Karlheinz: So you are willingly offering to play the part of the fool (1) and surrender yourself to this wheel of fate? ...Fascinating. 

Very well, Ruki. I shall send you to Eve’s side.

Ruki: Thank you very much. We will grant your dearest wish, no matter what.

I shall go and inform Kou and the others of this news. We will leave for the human world at onceーー 

Karlheinz: Ruki.

Ruki: Yes...What is it?

Karlheinz: I desire the birth of Adam. Furthermore, you should remember that you four are qualified for said role as well. 

Ruki: ...

...I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am well aware of my own position. I do not intend to step out of line. 

Furthermore...If I get to return the favor I owe you, then I don’t mind if I have to crawl on the ground after having my wings plucked and limbs torn off. 

Well then, if you’d excuse me. 

ー He walks away

Karlheinz: ーー He truly is an obedient boy. 

ー The flashback ends

Monologue

ーー I want to meet Eve. 

I wonder why back then,

I ended up speaking those words. 

It would have been so much easier for me,

if she had simply remained out of reach,

something to admire, but never to touch.

If I had not met her,

I would have never fallen head over heels either. 

I can only feel regret now. 

However, it is too late. 

It’s too late for everything. 

And at the same time,

everything was a mistake. 

The fact I did not simply die as a human. 

Or that I chose to be reborn as a Vampire. 

ーー And finally, the fact I fell in love with Eve.

Ruki: ( ...It was a mistake. )

( However, I longed for her regardless. )

ー Ruki wakes up in the bedroom of the Sakamaki castle

Ruki: ...Ugh...

Azusa: Ah...Ruki, you woke up...!

Ruki: ...Azusa...?

Azusa: I’m glad...Ruki, you’ve been asleep since forever.

Ruki: ...Where am I...?

Azusa: The castle in the Demon World...Kou and Yuma came to our rescue.

Ruki: Kou and Yuma...? They saved us...?

Right...Azusa, how about her? Is Yui safe...?

Azusa: Eh...?

Ruki: She should have been with us, right...? Is she unharmed...?

Azusa: ...Ruki. She isn’t with us. The two of us were the only ones who were captured. 

Ruki: Is that so...?

Azusa: You were beaten repeatedly...So I’m sure you’re still shaken up. For now, you should get plenty of rest. 

Ruki: Yeah...I’m just happy she’s safe. As long as she’s fine...

ー Ruki falls back asleep

Ruki: ...

Azusa: ...

... Are you sure this is what you want? Eve...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translations notes

(1) Literally he says ‘to become clowns/fools’. 

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