#and wondering if I should add eve in like this

[appocalipse]

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE : ̗̀➛ SIRIUS BLACK

summary: it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with.

"Oh, crap!" Lily seems on the verge of panic as she stares at the fresh stain on your clothes. "I'm so sorry!"

Somewhat shocked, you reach your hand to the front of your uniform and try to rub it away. It's no use. "It's okay," you assure her gently, relieved that the liquid didn't spill on the clean set of clothes you were folding instead, "it was an accident."

You put the clothes safely away in the trunk near your bed. They still have the fresh and clean scent of lavender. Your uniform, however…

Lily points her wand at your chest, and the stain quickly disappears. She had rushed through the entrance of the dormitory fast as lightning, crashing right into you and spilling…

Well, what exactly?

"Lily," you bring a hand to your own face, sniffing, then sniffing again. "What is this? It smells like a wet dog and-"

Your eyes meet and you immediately dislike the look on her face. Too much restrained excitement slowly bubbling up...

"-cigarettes…" you trail off, some sort of realization dawning on you way too late.

It can't be.

Lily bites her lower lip as if trying to hold back a smile. "Is that what it smells like to you?"

You also catch the scent of quill ink and freshly brewed coffee, so it can only be…

You put your hand away from your nose as if it's on fire.

"Tell me this is not what I think this is."

"If you're not thinking of Amortentia, then yes."

"Why would you brew Amortentia?!"

"For Professor Slughorn," she sees the confusion etched on your face and looks positively horrified. "Not for Professor Slughorn to drink! Ew! I said I'd like to try brewing one because it's, you know, a bit complicated and I've never tried before. He said he'd give Gryffindor some points if I succeeded. I didn't know you would… you know, smell Sirius."

"I never said I smelled him!"

"Okay! Okay," Lily raises both hands in surrender. Then, quieter, she adds, "You can pretend all you want."

You sigh. "Did you only have this vial?"

"Well, there should be some potion left in the cauldron, I think."

Great. An opportunity to escape this beyond strange situation. "I'll go get it for you."

"But I-"

You're out the Gryffindor common room before Lily has a chance to question your offer. The need to get away from that impending conversation is stronger than anything else right now.

Your heart is racing as you walk through the corridors of the castle, heading towards the dungeons, where Potions class usually take place. Each step is an effort to calm your turbulent mind and find some peace.

Upon reaching the Potions classroom, you welcome the silent space as you enter. The characteristic smell of magical ingredients and herbs fills your nostrils, bringing a familiar and almost comforting sensation… until you catch that smell. Amortentia.

You look around, searching for Lily's cauldron, which she mentioned leaving behind.

It's not hard to find; the smell is quite distinct, enchanting, all the things you love most in the world somehow united in a single aroma.

The cauldron is sitting on one of the workbenches. You approach cautiously, making sure not to knock anything over. Then you rummage through the shelves for an empty vial and pour some of the potion into it, feeling like you're doing something wrong even though Lily had Slughorn's permission.

The door opens, and you almost drop a row of glass bottles as you turn to look.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

It's Sirius. Of course, it's him.

He closes the door behind him, and your heart skips a beat as it usually does whenever he's around. He's wearing the Gryffindor uniform, the first two buttons undone, revealing a patch of delicate skin just below his neck.

You don't need to wonder how he got there or why. Chances are, he extracted every piece of information he needed from Lily with little to no effort.

"What are you doing?" he asks calmly. You, on the other hand, don't feel calm at all.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just?" He takes a step closer, and you instinctively move away from the workbench, trying not to show the nervousness you truly feel.

"I just came to get something," you say.

Sirius gives a suspicious glance at the cauldron. "Is it a love potion?" He's a skilled wizard. Skilled enough to know the answer to that question, yet he waits for you to respond.

"Lily made it," you say defensively, holding up the vial containing the potion to illustrate your point unnecessarily.

"And what scent do you smell?" he questions, with a genuine curiosity in his tone that catches you off guard. "What does the potion smell like to you?"

"Lily told you," it's far from a question.

But Sirius has a knack for playing games.

"She told me what?"

"You know what."

This time, you step back as he advances, unable to help yourself, swallowing hard and Sirius notices. He takes another step forward, and you take another step back.

"Sirius," you warn.

In return, Sirius says your name, his tone lighter, more playful, soft as a feather. Then, another step.

You nearly bump your hip against one of the workbenches as you take another desperate step back. Sirius, being Sirius, raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his amusement.

It's unfair. It's simply unfair that he's so good-looking, starting at you without feeling the need to averting his gaze. "You don't have to do this," you find yourself saying.

Sirius seems genuinely puzzled.

"Do what?"

You steal a glance in your peripheral vision. The room won't go on forever; you need to say something to get out of this situation before he gets too close. You don't trust yourself near Sirius.

"Turn me down. Be all nice-" you stutter. He keeps advancing toward you. Back almost against the wall, you dodge another workbench and turn to the left, trying to prevent him from cornering you.

Sirius chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take rejection."

He glances in the direction of the cauldron. "Do you want to know what scent I smell?"

"No."

"Leather-"

"Sirius-"

"Gasoline," he raises his chin, nose in the air as if enjoying one scent after another. "Apple pie."

For a moment, you close your eyes. "Stop it."

"And lavender."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. He's not being serious, a little voice in your mind insists. It can't be serious. He's just teasing you... or maybe just being a good friend. Too good a friend.

It would be easier if he wasn't. If he were less kind to you, less handsome, less charming.

It's not easy.

You're breathless, trying to keep your distance from Sirius as he sets a slow advance, a constant tease. It's an internal battle between the desire to give in to the attraction you feel for him and the need to protect yourself — but the latter wins, for now.

"Sirius," you plead, your voice quiet, "stop"

He pauses for a moment, his gray eyes fixed on yours. "You think I'm joking, don't you? You think I'm just being nice?"

"I... I don't know, Sirius. It's so...confusing."

He takes yet another step towards you, his lips curling into a challenging smile. Always challenging. "Confusing or scary?"

The tension between you two is palpable, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart, threatening to break out of your rib cage any given moment. You know you're fighting your own feelings, afraid of surrendering to something that may - and probably will - end in heartbreak.

"It's not fair," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's not fair that you're so... so-"

"So what?" he teases, closer. "So handsome? So charming? So... irresistible?"

You can tell he's somehow having fun. You don't understand how he can maintain a playful tone in a moment like this.

You catch a whiff of his cologne, feel the warmth of his body, and your heart races once again. If there's a way to prevent Sirius from getting what he wants, you don't know what it is. "So confusing," you finish, almost in a whisper. "You confuse the hell out of me."

Sirius pauses for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you momentarily catch a flicker of something deeper in this playful gaze. He slowly raises a hand and gently, gentler than ever, caresses your face, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your skin.

"I don't see how I could be confusing you," he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. "I thought I was being pretty clear..." It's teasing, of course it is; when it comes to Sirius, few things aren't.

But there's something else behind it, too.

The air grows heavier.

"You're not clear about anything, Sirius," you reply, your voice faltering slightly. "I never know what you're thinking. I never know what you really mean."

"Maybe you're just not paying attention."

You furrow your brow, confused by Sirius' response. He's playing with you, as he always does, but this time it feels more intense, more meaningful. You struggle against the temptation to give in completely, to say something you might not be able to take back.

"I do pay attention, Sirius," you respond, your voice showing determination you're not entirely sure you feel. "It's you who likes to make everything more difficult than it needs to be."

He moves closer once again, so close now that you can feel his breath against your skin, the tip of his nose an inch away from touching yours.

"Do you want me to be clearer?" he whispers, voice laced with a hint of his usual mischief. "Make it easier?"

You swallow, feeling your heart race. You know you can't admit your feelings for him, you can't let your defenses down. Not when he makes a point to hide comfortably behind a facade, away from anything that makes him feel vulnerable.

You need honesty.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice almost faltering. "Yes, I do."

Sirius pauses for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you can feel your breath catch in your throat. Then, slowly, he moves closer and closer still, until his lips almost touch yours.

There is a feeling that you can't quite put into words.

"I want you," he murmurs, an admission that hangs in the air like a charged electric current. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy– I'll even accept your awful taste in music," he adds with a playful smirk, teasingly referencing your occasional guilty pleasure for a particular genre of music that he often mocks.

A laugh escapes your lips, a combination of relief and affection. His sincerity is pretty close to melting away any remaining doubts that linger in your heart. "I have great taste in music," you state playfully.

Sirius brushes the side of his nose against yours affectionately. "Sometimes," he gives in, voice filled with genuine warmth.

You lean into his touch, savoring the tenderness and intimacy of the moment. It's as if the world around you has faded away, leaving only the two of you in this bubble of shared emotions.

"Sometimes?" you raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

He chuckles, a low and melodic sound that resonates deep within your chest, a sound you don't get to hear as often as you'd like. "You're lucky you're pretty," he teases, his voice filled with affectionate playfulness.

"Oh?"

"I have a soft spot for pretty girls."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that forms on your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Black."

Sirius leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" he whispers, fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, drawing you closer. "I'm already where I want to be."

Your heart swells with warmth, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Smooth talker."

It doesn't sound like an accusation when you're about to kiss him.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius x you #sirius x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black drabble #marauders drabble #marauders era

[fluentmoviequoter]

Merry and Bright

Day 9 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (The Rookie)

Summary: You invite Tim over on Christmas Eve, but he says he's working. A Christmas miracle occurs and Tim knocks on your door, presents in tow.

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Warnings: so much fluff. How the Grinch Stole Christmas references. Tim is probably OOC. I made up some stuff about Tim and his sister.

A/N: I haven't written for Tim Bradford yet, so please feel free to leave feedback and let me know what you think! I'd like to keep writing for him and try to capture his amazing character better so please feel free to send requests if you have any!

Masterlist Directory | Request Info (& full fandom list)

Since you inserted yourself into Tim’s life, barging your way in with a basket of goodies after moving in next door, he has quickly become one of your best friends. If he’s undeniably handsome and one of the most caring men you’ve ever met despite his grumpy exterior, so what? You asked yourself that the first time you invited him over for dinner, but now it’s a weekly occurrence, and it is your week to cook.

Your favorite one-pan dish is in the oven, and the game is queued on your television, but all that’s missing is Tim Bradford. As you decorated for Christmas this year, you thought about him and how his sister isn’t coming to LA for the holidays, leaving him alone. You’ve since decided to do something about that.

“Anyone home?” Tim asks as he opens your door. “Because I know I’ve told you more times than I can count to lock your door.”

You look around the corner and smile at him as you argue, “My neighbor’s a cop, it’ll be fine.”

“Sergeant, not a cop.”

“My apologies, Sergeant Bradford.”

He smiles at you, less rare than it used to be, but a moment you take the time to appreciate, never knowing when he will grace you with another one.

“So, I know your sister isn’t visiting,” you begin, “and I was wondering if you’d be interested in spending Christmas here?”

Tim glances at your Christmas tree before answering. “I would love to, and I can’t thank you enough for thinking of me and offering, but I’m working Christmas Eve.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding as you smile. “I just wanted to extend the invitation.”

You turn around to remove dinner from the oven, and Tim places a hand on your arm, stopping you.

“Thank you,” he repeats quietly and bordering on reverent. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

“I’m sorry. I would come if I could.”

“Tim, it’s fine. I’ll just have to give you your giant stack of gifts later,” you tease.

Tim nods, removing his hand from your arm and watching you turn away, his heart trying to decide whether it wants to shrink or grow.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford, are you good?” Wade asks as he leaves the station.

“Fantastic,” he mumbles. Wade looks at him, unconvinced, and he sighs before saying, “I just wish I could be somewhere else. I’m glad I could help out the officers with families, with kids, and give them the night off, but…”

“You’re regretting it?” Wade finishes.

“Not exactly.”

“Well, if you want to come over when you get off, we’ll leave the lights on,” Wade offers.

“Thanks,” Tim says. He doesn’t add: I’ve got somewhere else I’d rather be.

Someone walks up behind Tim and places a Santa hat on his head.

“Cheer up, Grinchy,” Angela calls, walking out of the station. “Merry Christmas, Tim!”

“Yeah,” Tim says, more to himself than her.

“Dude, we need to find you a K9 named Max, finish off the Grinch look,” Aaron teases, sitting next to Tim as his shift begins. He’s working tonight for the same reason Tim is: to let the officers with families spend Christmas with their loved ones.

“Oh, should we get him a little heart pin, too, and try to make it grow?” Nolan chimes in.

“Sorry, Bradford, but you’re just so… Grinchy,” Aaron says.

Tim laughs, shaking his head as the Santa hat shifts with his movement. Nolan and Aaron look at each other in horror and amusement at the fact that Tim Bradford, who is wearing a Santa hat, just laughed. Tim, however, is only thinking of you and how you’d absolutely agree with them. Although, if you were here, or if he was with you, he wouldn’t be quite so Grinchy.

“Merry Christmas, LAPD!” Officer Jan announces, entering the station in a full Santa costume. “I have come to relieve one lucky soul of Christmas Eve duty.”

“Bradford!” Aaron and Nolan yell. “He has somewhere to be.”

“How do you-?” Tim asks.

“It’s all over your face,” Aaron says as Nolan answers, “Go get her… whoever she is.”

Tim looks at Jan, who nods encouragingly. Tim jumps to his feet and runs to his locker. He’s heading home for Christmas, but he has one stop. As he changes before climbing in his truck, he makes a mental list of everything he needs. Merry Christmas to all, Tim thinks.

✯✯✯✯✯

You smile at the ending of the Christmas movie on your television, your thoughts drifting to Tim as you wonder what it would be like to have him here. As you try to focus on the movie again, someone knocks on your door.

When you open it, you don’t expect to see Tim in a Santa hat and holding several gift bags. Your eyes widen, and your smile returns as you let him in, closing the door behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly before he gets the chance. His arms wrap around you, loosely at first, before tightening when a Christmas song begins playing through your speakers as the credits roll. 

“I brought gifts,” he says against your shoulder.

“You didn’t have to. I just wanted to see you,” you reply.

He squeezes you once more, and you slowly step back, pulling out of the hug and looking up into Tim’s eyes.

“You brought hot chocolate?” you ask, stealing a peek into one of the bags.

“It’s Christmas,” he answers, as if it’s obvious.

“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

“I’m not always.”

You smile and gesture for him to follow you, leading him into the kitchen and pulling two Christmas-themed mugs from your cupboard.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After making the hot chocolate, you return to the couch and turn on A Charlie Brown Christmas as you resist leaning into Tim’s side.

“This is one of my favorites,” he says quietly, “my sister and I watched it every time it was on cable growing up.”

“It’s a classic,” you agree.

“We would watch it, drink hot cocoa or cider, whatever was in the kitchen, and exchange one gift on Christmas Eve,” Tim adds.

“Do you want to open a gift?” you ask, facing him. “There’s only a few hours until Christmas anyway.”

Tim thinks for a moment and then smiles at you. “Just one.”

You stand, retrieving a small box from under the tree while he pulls a gift from one of the bags. When you sit back down, you sit a little closer than before. He opens his present first, smiling and leaning in to hug you as he thanks you. When you open yours, you see a gift you’ve wanted for years but no one ever remembered. You start to thank him, but something happens along the way, and instead, your lips land on his. His hand raises to your arm as he reciprocates, but you realise your mistake (was it really a mistake? you ask yourself) and pull back.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

His hand slides up your arm to rest at the back of your neck. You see a new smile as he pulls you back in. Pressing your hand against his chest, you stop yourself.

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“Have you ever seen me so merry and bright?” he asks, his smile the widest you’ve ever seen.

You pick up the pompom at the end of his Santa hat and chuckle. “You are pretty cuddly,” you reply, noticing his other arm has wrapped around your waist. 

He rolls his eyes, still smiling as he kisses you again. You shift backward, your hand landing on the remote and resuming the movie. Tim laughs as he pulls back, pulling you against him.

“How’d you get off work?” you ask.

“Jan came in and offered to cover for one of us, and I was volunteered because I was being too ‘Grinchy.’”

You gasp in faux surprise. “Tim Bradford? You? Grinchy? I can’t imagine it.”

He smiles, and you lean in to kiss him again, your new favorite pastime.

“Thank you for coming. This is the best Christmas ever,” you say against his lips.

“Until next year?” Tim asks.

“What happens next year?”

“We’ll see.”

“And for now we’re merry and bright?” you respond.

“The merriest and the brightest,” Tim jokes, pulling you against his side as Charlie Brown appears on screen.

Merry and Bright, indeed.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x you #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie

[farfromstrange]

I Want To Fuck A Priest | Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

PART 6 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have a thing for the priest you met at a farmer's market. Thankfully, he has a thing for you, too.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), porn without much plot, Priest!Matt, blasphemy (!!!), church setting, improper use of a priest's collar, improper use of a confessional booth, improper use of the act of confession, praise, prayer, oral afab!receiving, slight Dom!Matt, Catholic guilt, Fleabag reference, seriously if you are religious or triggered by the improper use of religion DO NOT read this!

Word Count: 2.8k

A/n: This is for those who watched Fleabag and then saw all the 'Imagine Matt as a priest' and 'Charlie Cox once played a Spanish priest' posts and thought, "Same!" when Fleabag said, "I want to fuck a priest." I see you, and I feel you. I wrote this after re-watching Fleabag one night, but I added a little poetic twist while editing because before, it was just completely plotless oral sex. While that isn't bad, I needed to add some vibes. You're welcome.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

The church bells ring as the clock strikes midnight. The night sky is void of dark clouds. In the darkness above the massive walls encasing the holy ground, the stars shine brighter than the city lights. New York City, the city that never sleeps, makes an exception for the house of God in the dead of the night, it seems.

It’s been…several years since my last confession. 

The graveyard attached to the church looks threatening in its vacancy. It’s void of human souls except for the dead ones buried there. A raven claps its wings in the distance, following the gush of wind that brushes through the trees. 

The bell rings twelve times before it stops, but the echo bounces off the stone walls and shakes the stained-glass windows, which seems to drag on for an eternity. 

The last time I confessed my sins was before my communion. I don’t know if that makes me a bad Catholic, but lately, I’ve been having sinful thoughts, and I need to get them out of the way before I collapse under the weight of them.

You considered for the longest time whether or not you should come here. Faith has been your enemy for the longest time. You don’t believe in the Catholic Church, and yet you have found your way here, in the middle of the night, when everyone should be asleep in their beds. 

This isn’t a normal night, by any means. You often lay awake at night and question your purpose in this life, but lately, you’ve been feeling like you’re drowning. Sins are subjective, and you never paid much mind to the term until now. 

The thoughts you find yourself having late at night when you’re awake and lonely are far from holy. They aren’t ideal. They make you wonder just why you are thinking this way now.

But no man has ever been like him. And the worst part about it is that wanting him alone is an unholy train of thought you should have never submitted to. 

You tried ignoring it, carrying it all by yourself, and trying to heal whatever complex you may have that could have led to this obsession in the first place, but your life has been a mess for long enough that it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, and no matter what you tried to do, you couldn’t stop fantasizing about him.

He is the reason you came to church tonight to confess your sins. But you’re not here to find your way. You’re not here to ask for guidance from God. You told yourself that the unholiness of your thoughts needs to be cured and that is why you came here—to make this situation better for yourself—but the thought is ancient; it’s the twenty-first century and you’re the kind of person who knows exactly what they want and how to get it. The truth is, you’re here to get what you want, even if it will land you in the pits of hell for all eternity. And even if it kills you.

“You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” the low voice asks from the other side of the confessional booth.

You shake your head. “Not at all, Father. When I went to Sunday Mass this weekend, it was my first time in a church in a very long time,” you admit to him, “and this is my first confession since I was a child. I…I’m not really a devoted Catholic, you understand. I’m merely struggling right now, and I…I am in desperate need of guidance.”

Your lip quivers. Your voice resembles a tidal wave that comes and goes as nature pleases.

He can’t see you. It’s not the curtain that is separating you and is starting to feel like worlds apart—he can’t see you. He can only hear and smell you, and that alone makes your thighs clench with need. 

Should you be doing this in a church? Should you fantasize about a man of God and want to claim him, coming to his sanctuary to tell him the truth and mess with his head? You know that it’s wrong, but the wrong thing often feels too right to stop. 

When you met him at the farmer’s market the other day, he was so endlessly kind to everyone, including yourself. He invited you to Sunday mass, and you went. You went on a walk with him afterward, and there seemed to be something there, but he couldn’t act on it because he is who he is and what he is. He made a vow. He can’t have you, no matter how badly he wants to, and one look into his unfocused hazel eyes when he took off those red glasses he always wears told you that he does want you. It led to another sleepless night among many, and now you’re here.

You’re so utterly selfish, but God, you can’t stop it. When you want something, you would do anything to get it. He makes you feel things you never felt before. It’s terrifying, but you have to allow yourself to jump into unknown waters if you want to learn how to swim.

He clears his throat, and you can hear the chair creak under his weight as he shifts. Is it possible that you’re doing the same to him that he is doing to you?

“I want to start by saying that you’re really brave,” he says. The sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. “But God offers people guidance in a symbolic sense. I can take your confession, tell you how to repent for your sins, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

You sigh. “I wish you would though.”

A chuckle passes his lips. “Why don’t you start by telling me what’s weighing you down, sweetheart, and we will go from there?”

Sweetheart. 

Yes, you think, this is your one-way ticket to hell. 

“I’ve been having thoughts,” you confess.

“Thoughts?” he asks.

“Yes. Unholy thoughts.” Your breath comes in weak puffs of air. The booth seems to cave in on you. You wish he would step out of his booth into yours and stuff his cock into your mouth. For him, you would shut up. You would do whatever he tells you to do, and you would do so gladly.

Fuck. You want to fuck a priest. 

But lucky for you, Father Matthew wants to fuck you too. He’s here, at midnight, because you were lost and he was still there—he told you he spends his nights at church sometimes because the city gets too loud for him. You couldn’t go anywhere else because any place where he isn’t doesn’t seem worth visiting.

Matt sucks in a sharp breath. You imagine him swallowing, his white collar constricting his labored airflow. You imagine him pulling at it to free himself, but he can’t. Those sinfully thick fingers of his would feel even better on your skin. 

“Unholy thoughts,” Father Matthew asks, “about whom, sweetheart?”

He’s pushing your buttons with that nickname. It’s so not professional. The lines are starting to blur.

“A man,” you tell him. 

“A man?”

“A man of God.”

The confession causes a bout of silence. You could have heard a hairpin drop. 

His chair creaks again, and his voice reminds you of an animalistic growl right before an apex predator attacks its prey. “And what unholy thoughts have you been having about this man of God?” he inquires.

Your inner walls clench around thin air. Sweat drips down your temples, and the arousal soaks your underwear. Your nipples strain against your shirt. If you grip the seat any harder, you will soon find wooden chips under your nails.

You lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you whisper. “And I want to touch him.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“And in your thoughts, does he satisfy you?”

Your answer comes promptly, “Always.”

There is not a scenario in which Father Matthew could possibly leave you unsatisfied. 

The chair creaks again. Something in the air shifts. 

Your voice is breathless and needy, and so fucking desperate when you speak into the silence, “Just tell me what to do, Father.”

“Okay,” he says. His leather shoes drag across the floor of the booth and toward the curtain that marks the exit of his side. The next word out of his mouth knocks all the air out of your lungs, “Kneel.”

You don’t even have time to question his request. Within seconds, the curtain through which you’ve stepped into the confessional booth is torn to the side, and there he is, in all of his glory, right in front of you, and his thick cock is straining against his black slacks.

You pinch yourself, but you’re not dreaming. This is real. This is what you wanted, and you weren’t imagining the mutual attraction due to delusions. He does want you, and he is about to break every rule in his book—and the lord’s book.

You sink to your knees. The only thing you can see on his face is pure, unbridled lust and the ugly truth of Catholic guilt. He must loathe himself for wanting you. 

Matt removes his glasses, revealing his beautiful eyes to you. In the dim candlelight, they appear almost black.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” you ask.

His hand brushes your cheek. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he breathes.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He steps into the booth and closes the curtain behind him. “Tonight, call me Matt.”

That is the last thing he says before he gets on his knees before you, and he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that is strong enough to make the angels howl.

His hand rests around your throat, feeling your pulse. He may not be able to see you with his eyes, but the way he touches you paints a perfect picture of your presence, and you feel every last ounce of his devotion. 

He explores the depth of your mouth with his tongue, tasting you, loving you. His hands feel beautifully rough against your skin, just like you imagined they would be after years of praying. He sees himself as the hands of God. A messenger. His goodness makes your heart swell and your core flood with more than unbridled arousal—this is human nature in all its emotional glory, and you no longer feel ashamed. You can’t possibly when he is holding you like this.

He exhales into your mouth—no, he breathes life into your soul. “You’re the most sinful yet purest thing I have ever laid my hands on,” Matt says.

You gasp against his luscious lips. “I wouldn’t want to make you turn your back on God, or–”

He cuts you off, “I did that when I first thought about your body on mine and coming so deep inside of you that you’ll carry me with you for days. I don’t care about God because if having him means that I can’t have you,” he says, “I don’t want him anymore.”

You swallow his words with a kiss. Turning a priest against God was never your intention, but you are not in charge of his feelings, nor will you ever be. Matt wants you badly enough to abandon religion, and you will carry that with you until the day you die. 

He lifts you back onto the edge of the wooden chair, pulling at your clothes and your undergarments. The moonlight hits his face as the cold air of the church hits your bare pussy. He looks ethereal like this, on his knees for you. His hazel eyes bore into your soul. He wears his heart on his sleeves and a collar around his neck. 

Your priest crosses his chest. He asks God for forgiveness. And then, with one gentle tug at your thighs, he buries his face in your wet cunt, and he feasts as if your sex was the last supper. As God’s disciple, he is determined to eat up every last bite offered to him. Every last drop from your cunt is his, and your lips part in a moan that echoes through the church like the bells did when it hit midnight.

“Fuck,” you cry out. 

He flattens his tongue against you, licking a long stripe over and then through your folds. He twirls the tip of his tongue over your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves with such precision, your walls clench at the sheer explosion of pleasure. You have never felt anything like it. He turns something unholy into heaven, and you’re drowning in the river to the Garden of Eden.

His lips suction around your clit. The obscene squelching of your velvety walls fills the booth. It sounds deadly noisy to you. You want to cover your mouth to stop the moans from traveling, but he traps your hand with his, guiding them to his hand, telling you to guide him.  

Instead, one of your hands moves to his collar. It’s his turn to moan. You tug at the symbol of his priesthood, forcing his tongue deeper into your hole. He laps up your juices as though his life depends on it. 

“Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned,” Matt murmurs against you. 

You moan again, louder this time. He is repenting for wanting to dive into your pussy until he gets swept away by the tide, but it is far too late to back out now. Your pleasure has become his priority. 

“Lord God,” he repeats, “in your goodness have mercy on me.”

The pleasure is turning into a tight knot in your lower abdomen. You can feel it consuming you and your senses. You’re floating. The light at the end of the tunnel is not so far out of reach anymore. Every suck and every lick at your folds, and every thrust of his tongue into your tight walls pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

In your goodness, have mercy on me. 

He bites down lightly on your clit. Your toes curl, and his name comes out in a groan.

Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. 

Right now, you are his God. By drinking your arousal like holy water and pushing you toward an orgasm he is repenting. The symbolism makes your heels dig into his back as you buck your hips against his mouth, and when he adds one of those thick fingers, curling them up against that sweet spot inside of you, you can barely stand it anymore.

Create me in a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.

“God, Matthew!” your moan interrupts his plea for penance only briefly.

He swats your thigh. “No blasphemy when I feast at the altar,” he says. The vibration of his voice adds to the knot, tightening it, and threatening it to burst.

You’re almost there. Almost…

“Have mercy on me, a sinner,” he continues. His tongue slides between your folds once again, gathering your slit. His fingers curl upward again. He’s mixing different prayers, or maybe these are his own words, but you are not sure how much longer you can hold it. But he wants you to hold it. You don’t want to disappoint the man who is worshiping at your feet, your pussy, his altar, and you are his salvation as much as you are his saving grace.

“In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good,” he prays, “I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things—but fuck, I don’t.” 

Does that mean he loves you? It is too soon to tell that, but he is devoted, and devotion can be just as sinfully sweet as the rawest feeling of love.

“Have mercy on me, God. Amen!”

His collar is starting to tear under your vice grip. 

Matt thrusts his digit into you until it disappears, and he finally decides to show the mercy he was begging for to you. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says. 

Your thighs lock around his head as the knot breaks in two. You come, hard, and the wave tears him down with you, shooting his cum into his slacks like the good Catholic boy he is.

You let go of his collar when your orgasm has done its damage. 

“No,” he stops you. 

“No?” you ask, still breathless.

“No,” he says, lifting his head to grin at you, not like a man of God but the Devil himself. “I have not done nearly enough penance.”

As a priest, Matt is used to being on his knees until they’re bruised; until he can’t stand straight anymore, so he has to remain there, cowering before a God he more often than not does not believe in.

Before you can protest, he dives back into your endless ocean, and you have no choice but to lean back and take it. 

He is not the only one doing penance tonight, after all—you both are. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x afab!reader #pwp #afab!reader #matt murdock x you #no y/n #priest!matt #matt murdock priest au #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #from the vault #reader insert #inspired by fleabag #because who doesn't want to fuck a priest

[superficialdomina]

Unwrapped

A secret Santa gift for @glitchquake ❤️❤️

Summary: An Avenger/Time Lord!Loki x fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, fluffy/smutty one-shot.

My masterlist

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI! Explicit smut, PIV, oral sex (f receiving). A smidgen of angst.

Author's Note: Darling @glitchquake, merry Christmas!! 🎄🎄🎁🎁I had so much fun with this prompt and with weaving in some little Easter eggs (or should they be candy canes!?!!) just for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

And another thank you to the wonderful @fictive-sl0th for arranging this terrific Secret Santa. I was so glad to be a part of it!! (Readers, you can find the Secret Santa 2023 Master List here).

Prompt: Walking in and seeing Loki wrapped in nothing but red ribbon under the Christmas tree and then you two do the do.

It had turned into a perfect Christmas decorating party. The smell of baking gingerbread filled the Tower common room, Mariah Carey was belting out the chorus to All I want for Christmas, and Nat was at this very moment balanced precariously on the top of a high-backed chair to add a glittery star to the apex of Stark's 12-foot Christmas tree. The rest of you had been happily adorning the tree - and the common room - for several hours, with all manner of baubles, candy canes, lights, and tinsel. Someone had made an early batch of eggnog, and a holiday buzz hung excitedly in the room.

You were humming along to Wham’s Last Christmas, when you caught Loki’s figure entering the room. He looked as disdainful as ever, although on this occasion, an air of skepticism coloured his general standoffishness.

“What,” he asked, distastefully running his fingers over the pink and green lights, “is this about?”

“It’s December 1st, Loki!” you beamed at him, ignoring his curmudgeonly attitude and generously wrapping a spare length of sparkly tinsel around his shoulders. “It’s a Christmas decorating party!”

Loki frowned, but a smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth; your enthusiasm was difficult to curb at the worst of times, and often proved infectious. He began to say something – probably characteristically barbed – before he spotted the small pile of gifts under the tree. “And tell me, darling - what are those?”

“Christmas gifts from Little Miss Festive over here,” Tony cut in, gesturing towards you with the glass of eggnog in his hand before thrusting it upon Loki. “There’s even one for you, Horns.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and turned to you, looking mildly suspicious. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you, Loki!” You purse your lips in mock admonishment. “You can wait until Christmas eve like everyone else!”

“Why?” Loki asked.

“Tradition,” you said, with an air of finality that put an end to any further argument.

The tower’s Christmas eve party was in full swing. Tony’s fancy stakeholder party, full of elegant hors d’oeuvres and flowing champagne, had happened a few days earlier; to your relief, tonight’s event included only the live-in members of the Tower, with a few bonus loved ones here and there. It was delightfully warm and friendly. Thor was beaming widely at everyone around him, and he had not taken off the chunky red pompom beanie you had made him since he’d unwrapped it several hours earlier. Even Loki seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Congratulations on acing your finals, darling,” he had murmured to you when he first arrived. You’d looked at him in confusion; you’d finished your end-of-term exams only a few days ago, and you didn’t expect to know the results for several weeks.

“How do you- Loki, I haven’t even heard-“

“Oh, just something I picked up around the Timelines,” he added with a wink, as understanding finally dawned on you. If only my future-self had also been brave enough to tell him I’m madly in love with h-

But you wouldn’t think about that tonight. You’d been having such a wonderful time; for your first Christmas with the Avengers, you couldn’t have felt more at home. Yes, you were a little blue about your unrequited-love situation, but you were determined to focus on how lucky you were to be here. What wonderful friendships you had built this year! How magical it felt to be included, to belong! No, it wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thing, that one little thing…

Making gifts for your new chosen family had been so much fun. In addition to Thor’s beanie (which was now looking somewhat askew on his blonde head), you’d made long, checkered scarfs for Steve and Tony, a pretty maroon shawl for Wanda, and a pair of cute boot-cuffs for Nat. They’d all made very kind ooh-ing noises as they’d each unwrapped their little hand-made gifts from under the tree.

But the project that you were the most proud of was the gift you’d made for Loki: a pair of unbelievably soft, dark-green, fingerless gloves. You had worked incredibly hard on them. It had been slow and painstaking; the soft merino wool was so fine, and the needles so small, they made your hands cramp. The intricate cable-knit pattern you had learned specifically for this project was complicated, and you had pulled out your stitches on multiple occasions in the name of perfection. You only hoped that he would enjoy them. Speaking of which…

“Loki!” Thor boomed suddenly, grabbing the attention of most of the room. “Brother, there is a still a gift under the tree for you!”

Loki’s eyes darted to you, and he gave you a charming smile as he knelt down to pick up the small package. He unwrapped it gently, tentatively peeling back the brightly patterned paper until he held the gloves in his hands. You realized you were holding your breath as you waited for his response.

Loki didn’t look up; he traced the detailed curves of cable knit with one finger. “How – you made these? They’re… How are they so soft?”

You felt your face warming. “Made with love!” you joked, loosely patting his shoulder and laughing. But your laugh was cut short as you saw a look pass over Loki’s face. Oh no.

“Oh, haha – I don’t mean Love love,” you continued quickly. “You know, you’re my friend – friends. All of you. And I- you know, I love you - all.” The end of your sentence was lost in Thor’s smothering embrace, with generous hear-hears from the rest of the team as they chinked glasses and went back to their holiday chatter.

Loki had stood, but he continued to stare down at the open package in his hand. Did he not want them? What was wrong with them? Damn it, you cursed yourself, you should have just gotten him something simple! You didn’t mean the gloves to be any sort of grand gesture… You would never! Stupid. Why didn’t you just get him a cool iPhone case? Because he wouldn’t use it, you admitted to yourself, and anyway, what was wrong with giving your friends nice things and telling them that they were important to you? Nothing, you thought defiantly, and if Loki’s going to be all suspicious and grouchy about it then he can go –

But before you could open your mouth to give Loki the small lecture you were working up to, he had taken three long strides to the common room door and disappeared out into the hallway.

You were astonished. He just left?! Goddamn him and his shitty communication skills! If he’s that upset, he could at least talk to you about it. You talk to him about everything! Maybe that’s the problem, a cold voice muttered inside your head. You’d finally crossed over into “too much”. As usual.

No. No way. This wasn’t fair - he couldn’t just be mad at you and not even give you the chance to explain. Fuck it, you were going to fix this.

You followed Loki into the hall, but by the time you got through the crowded common room, he was well and truly in the lift. You furiously pressed the call button, repeatedly, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference to the speed of the damn thing. You watched the digital numbers slowly tick up to the 26th floor.

Finally, after an achingly slow ascent, you made it to Loki’s rooms and banged hard on his door.

“Loki!” you shouted through it. “Open up! You have to talk to me! You have to –"

The door was apparently unlocked; it swung open at your aggressive knocking, and you tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment.

“Loki?” you called, as you walked through the quiet rooms. You were sure he was here – you’d seen the elevator stop on this floor. And besides, where else would he go? “Loki! Loki, please, you have to talk to me. Please don’t be mad. You don’t have to wear them. You don’t even have to keep them. Goddammit Loki, where are you?” you almost shouted the last, as you pushed open his bedroom door.

You were immediately silenced by the sight in front of you.

Loki’s enormous, indulgent bed was decorated extravagantly in Christmas décor. Fairy lights tangled with fresh boughs of fir tree were entwined through the posts, dotted here and there with tiny silver baubles and bright red holly berries. Like a Christmas tree, you thought, mesmerized.

Loki sat underneath the elegantly twisted branches, leaning back against the ornate headboard, his head resting cheekily on one fist as he waited casually for you to spot him. One of his eternally long legs was crossed over the other at the knee.

He was wearing nothing but his trademark smirk and a modestly positioned bright red bow.

“Hello, darling,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas. I hope you like the gift I got you?”

“Loki, I- what? What is going on? How did you – you were barely minutes in front of me! How did you get into this getup so fast?”

Loki’s fingertips gave a little green crackle. Oh. Of course.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap it?” he asked darkly, his cocky smirk even wider.

“I…” Don’t analyse this too much, you told yourself, as you woodenly moved towards him. You reached out an arm to try to pull at the bow, but of course, with him perched in the centre of his enormous bed, you couldn’t quite reach; you lifted one knee onto the mattress, arm still outstretched for the bow… then the other…

Before you realized what was happening, Loki had taken your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He was sitting upright, and he gazed intently into your face, his eyes darting between yours as he quietly murmured to you. “Is this alright?”

You nodded dumbly. Alright? It was everything you had ever wanted – Loki, naked and stretched out before you like a banquet, with a comically large red bow hiding his –

Your eyes widened as you abruptly spotted exactly what the ribbon had been concealing; beneath it, Loki was rock hard. You caught yourself involuntarily wetting your lips with your tongue.   

The low, flickering glimmer cast by the Christmas lights was beautifully romantic, and you felt yourself melt into him as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your head in his large hands and firmly pulling your face towards him. His mouth found yours, and your heart beat madly in your chest as he kissed you for the first time.

In all your wildest imaginings, it could never have been like this. His kiss was firm, but his lips were as soft as dew; the tongue gently exploring your mouth was skilled, but tender. Your hands reached for his hips, at last meeting the loose end of the red ribbon and pulling the bow free. Without breaking his kiss, he carefully laid you back on his bed.

Loki’s long, muscled body was now kneeling before you, his lean, strong thighs holding him steady above you as he used his hands to caress your body. It was more sensual that you had even been touched… had ever even dreamt of being touched. As rushes of hot, vivid lust reached every part of your skin, every drop of your blood, you realized you had also never felt so… so safe.

Loki pulled away from you, his perfect torso towering above you as he knelt between your legs. He gazed at you longingly as he slid a hand under each of your thighs. “May I?” he asked throatily.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice a bare whisper.

Loki didn’t hesitate, almost falling into you as he dipped his head to place his strong, clever tongue upon you. The bliss was immediate and exquisite. You felt yourself writhe under him, heard yourself whimper and moan as he deftly played his fingers over you, in you; every place he found to touch or kiss you came as the perfect note in the perfect order. In the few moments you allowed yourself to open your eyes, you were met with the beautiful scene of Christmas romance he had created above you… Created for you…

His fingers curled gently, knowing the speed and rhythm you needed, and you let him lead you on towards the sweet release he promised you. Your fingers found his raven hair and twisted their way into it, not meaning to pull, but inevitably losing control as he pushed you closer. He moaned wantonly as you tugged.

That was all he needed to pull you over the edge into orgasmic oblivion. You came hard, crying out, pulling his hair again in time with the unconscious pulsing of your pelvic floors. He didn’t stop, pulling you onwards, sucking and licking and pumping as your body continued to convulse, until you cried out again, pulling him away from you as the sensation became too much.

When you opened your eyes to see him above you, he was gazing at you hungrily.

“Loki…” you almost sobbed.

He brought his perfect, sculpted body close to yours; he expertly guided himself to you, the wetness generated by the magnificent orgasm he had given you allowing him to glide into you with ease, despite his generous girth. And when he was settled in you, fit so perfectly inside you, he finally gave in. With a deep growl, he began to move.

“Faster,” you moaned, begging him, needing him to give you more. The stretch you felt as your body accommodated him was magnificent.

His hands still roamed your body; his impressively sensitive touch finding pleasure in your pleasure. His beautiful dark curls hung sluttishly about his sharp face, loose and wild. With eyes closed, his thrusts messy, he chased release above you, until with a sharp groan, he came.

He took a few moments to compose himself, drawing in deep breaths, before opening his eyes to meet yours. In a single movement, he rolled to his side, slipping out of you and easily enfolding you in his long, strong arms, your back to his broad torso. Your chest began to rise and fall in time with his.

With a difficulty that was only partially due to the weight of his arm across you, you pulled yourself away from his chest and turned to face him.

“Loki - what happened? I followed you up here because I thought you were furious with me. Why did you leave in such a rush after you opened my gift? You didn’t like the gloves?”

“My darling,” Loki purred, pulling you tightly back into him. “I adore them. They are utterly perfect.” He gave a dramatic little sigh, and his fingertips traced invisible patterns on your back. “When I opened them, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and wonder. That you would give me something so beautiful… So me… The hours you must have spent meticulously crafting them. And then, that you did it for love…”

“Actually, I said with love,” you laughed.

His fingertips froze their pretty movements on your skin, and you looked up to see his face ashen. “Oh no! No, Loki, don’t be sad. I did… I mean, I do…”

You took a deep breath, and decided, finally, that honesty was the best policy.

“Loki, I do love you. I cherish you. I want to gift you a pair of green knit mittens every Christmas for as long as you’ll accept them.” You paused nervously. “But if you don’t- I mean, if you want to stay friends, I’ll… I’ll be OK… with that-“

“Dear heart,” he murmured into your hair, idly picking at the shreds of red ribbon strewn about you both. “I think we are a bit beyond that. Don’t you?”

“Well…” You chuckled again. “I guess so, yeah.”

Loki gently tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him so that he could lightly kiss you mouth. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

Secret Santa taglist

@joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

#loki fanfic #loki fic #Merry Christmas! #Secret Santa by Camille #secret santa 2023 #camilles secret santa #secret santa writer event

[swissmissficrecs]

Johnlock fics I read in 2023

This is everything I read in the Sherlock Holmes fandom last year that made it into my bookmarks. So while I may not have read enough to make a selected "best of" list, consider these the ones that made it past all my internal selection criteria and are deserving of a spotlight. A few of these were completed prior to 2023.

A Case of You by Silvergirl (17K, M, Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day. Badly hungover, John can't find anyone to tell him what the hell happened to the wedding, where the grooms are, or how he can put it right so that Sherlock can be happy. But what if he's dead wrong about what will make Sherlock happy?

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (16K, T, Johnlock) It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

A Story That Is Almost, But Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Blue Carbuncle by Iwantthatcoat (16K, M, Johnlock) It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and the Holmes Family is all set to have one of those unimaginable Christmas dinners— but the game is afoot, as Mummy’s friend is caught up in a Christmas mystery.

An Elegant Solution by ArwaMachine (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock finds himself unspeakably aroused by the idea of John with another man. Problem is, the only man Sherlock will permit be with John is Sherlock himself. Seems like an unsolvable problem. ... or is it?

An Ocean Away by westernredcedar (14K, T, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes has been gone for twenty long years, time enough for John Watson's daughter to make it all the way to Harvard University.

Avast Ye Merry Gentlemen by StellaCartography (10K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock is not a Christmas person. John decides it's Christmas that needs changing.

Bright Blue Ink by 13_33 (13K, G, Johnlock, Warstan) When one of my patients asks me about my relationship with Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, I answer this: I am his chronicler, his assistant in solving crimes, his confidant and friend. Of course, all these terms hold true, now as then, at the beginning of our shared history. But just as in a family portrait you can only see the put-on smiles and never the real faces of the people, they were only part of what made up my true relationship with Holmes. I know him, I then add; I know him well. [ACD]

Deductive Reasoning by cormorant (8K, T, Johnlock) John finds out that Sherlock has assumed for a while that their relationship was romantic, and feels like maybe he should have been notified about that.

Doting Husbands by Calais_Reno (16K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock takes on a new hobby: writing a story. If only something would happen! Takes place a year after the ending of Wooing Sherlock Holmes. He and John have been married for a year, still retired, living in Sussex.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine (54K, E, Johnlock) After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) When two lines, inclined towards each other, are extended indefinitely, it is inevitable that they meet. Upon meeting, the lines become something new. Together. Perhaps it’s been like that from the beginning for Sherlock and John—their lives weaving together, inclined towards one another, moving closer and closer to something greater than themselves.

Live from the Morgue by disfictional (8K, E, Johnlock) Molly interviews Sherlock on her podcast, Live from the Morgue. John listens.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Nightjet by khorazir (22K, M, Johnlock) Officially deceased for eighteen months and still looking for the last remainders of Moriarty’s criminal empire, an exhausted Sherlock boards a night train in Germany to bring him to his next hunting ground. Due to a mishap with the sleeper cars, he is forced to share a compartment with a stranger – who turns out to be not quite as strange as Sherlock thought. The universe isn’t lazy, after all …

Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (30K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

Our Ghosts And This by LipstickDaddy (12K, T, Johnlock) An epilogue in three acts.

Primavera by Berty (9K, T, Johnlock) Italy in the springtime is as romantic as it gets but is it enough to free unspoken words and feelings after years of silence?

Salut d'Amour by ecoutes (11K, G, Johnlock) Despite Holmes claiming that my narrations of our cases were tainted with sentimentality, his preferences in music, I learned, were awfully romantic. [ACD]

Spare Parts by Raina_at (63K, E, Johnlock) Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

stirringofbirds between my arms by NotusLethe (18K, E, Johnlock, Enola/Tewksbury) Over the years, John Watson gets to know his new flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, and the man's clever ward. [Enola Holmes]

Stretch by illwick (13K, E, Johnlock) Sometimes the lines get blurry. [Part 35 of a BDSM established relationship series]

The Adventure of The Reluctant Docent by mydogwatson (23K, T, Johnlock) Someone is killing the docents of London. Sherlock is on the case when he meets a very interesting docent.

The Case of the Freudian Dick Pic Slip by expoduck (11K, E, Johnlock) John accidentally sends Sherlock a dick pic he'd intended for another man.

The Mystery of the Missing Metallurgist by rudbeckia (14K, M, Johnlock) A young wife engages Holmes to find her missing husband. Lestrade thinks the man has absconded to America, but Holmes rises to the challenge of Proving Lestrade Wrong. The case turns out to be far more complex and dangerous than they first thought, and Holmes sends Watson to secure Lestrade’s help in bringing a criminal gang to justice. When Holmes gets injured, Watson realises where his heart lies and a little lighthearted banter leads to a tentative confession. [ACD]

The Silence Between the Notes by J_Baillier (44K, M, Johnlock, Viclock) Lieutenant John Watson's days in London are painted in shades of grey after losing both his military career and his family. Could an unexpected request to travel to Vienna to track down the errant son of a wealthy family break the monotony?

The Wizard of Baker Street by Calais_Reno (23K, T, Johnlock) In which Sherlock is a wizard under a curse and John spends a lot of time as a cat.

‘tis the damn season by chrysanthemumsies (22K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John travel to Edinburgh to catch a homophobic serial killer in time for Christmas. They figure out how to use their words, more or less.

Trapezoid by SilentAuror (27K, E, Johnlock, OMC/ OMC) Corey Graham invites John and Sherlock to visit L.A. to consult on a project… at least, officially.

Yorkshire by lurikko (8K, E, Johnlock) They're in Yorkshire, in a house in the moors, for a case, only Sherlock keeps touching John. [Omegaverse]

#rec list #best #master list

[weird-an]

“I hate you” Harringrove? I’m so gay.

Detention.

With Billy Hargrove.

Steve wants to scream and it's all Hargrove's fault. Because they tackled each other too hard and too often during practice. Because Billy shouted "plant your feet, Harrington" and Steve lost it for once and yelled "I'll fuck you over next time".

Did anyone ever get detention playing basketball? A week before their last game ever? Before school is over in only a few weeks? This a new low for Steve.

Worse even, it's Friday and the whole school is deserted already, so now he sits in a stuffy classroom next to Billy.

"I'll be back in an hour," Coach says, grabbing his mug of coffee that vaguely smells like liquor. "You two will come up with a list of reasons why team play is important."

Once the door closes behind him, Steve groans. "You have to be kidding me. A list?"

"I can think of a lot of reasons why team play is important, but we aren't a fucking team," Billy snaps. "I should write an essay about Harrington's Inability To Stand His Ground."

"Maybe you should add a guide on how to use every possible foul in one half time." Steve rolls his eyes.

Billy stands up and comes closer. A wild look in his eyes.

"It's not my fault that you don't plant your fucking feet."

"Bodycheckin' isn't allowed. It's basketball," Steve yells, getting up as well. "You should fucking behave."

Billy's face turns red from anger. "Don't talk to me like that."

"Like what?" Steve steps forward, pushes two fingers against Billy's chest. Of course he's wearing his shirt unbuttoned. Steve wonders why he's bothering with a shirt at all. Always showing off his stupid, admittedly nice, pecs.

"Like I'm a child."

"You're a fucking brat," Steve huffs. Billy's flush turns crimson. It makes Steve get a very dangerous idea.

"I hate you," Billy growls. "Stop talking to me like that. I should punch you in your -"

Steve manages to shut Billy up. For the first time ever. With his mouth pressed against Billy's. Shoving his tongue in his mouth and yanking his mullet.

Billy gasps and Steve uses his surprise to bite his bottom lip. Billy's breath gets ragged and Steve kisses his neck, sucks on the tender skin underneath his collarbone. Enjoys Billy shivering from his touch.

Steve bites into the soft flesh just a bit above Billy's belly button. Billy moans. His eyes are closed and he aches his neck. He looks almost peaceful like that. Steve wants to see him like that more often.

He pulls down Billy's pants. Kneads Billy's firm ass that the whole school keeps staring at. But only Steve gets to touch.

"I can take it," Billy grunts, leaning a little over the desk so that Steve can reach him better.

"Well, aren't you a team player?" Steve laughs. He spits on his fingers and pushes two into Billy's hole.

"More. Faster." Billy's voice is hoarse.

"Nope," Steve says, scissoring his fingers apart, in very slow, lazy movements. "Behave."

Billy shudders, but bites his lips. Keeps himself from moving even though his cock twitches with every push of Steve's fingers.

Steve pulls his fingers out. "You ready?"

"Of course," Billy growls.

Steve presses his cock against Billy's hole. He's big and the spit can't be enough. But he sinks in slowly, until he's completely buried inside Billy who groans and clutches the desk like his legs can't carry him anymore.

"You're fucking huge," Billy gasps.

Steve moves his hips forward, grabs Billy's thighs and thrusts hard.

Billy comes, crying out and without Steve touching his dick. Shooting come all over his abs. After one thrust. It's the hottest thing Steve has ever seen.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Has nobody ever fucked you before?"

"Not in In- Indiana," Billy slurs.

The thought makes Steve dizzy. Nobody he knows has ever touched Billy. Only Steve himself.

It's fast, it's hurried, it's messy. Steve loves every second. He pulls Billy's blond curls again and he whimpers. He fucks him harder and faster, Billy's overstimulated mewls a symphony in his ears.

Maybe it's not even Billy's tight ass, moans or toned body. Maybe it's the thought that only he fucks Billy Hargrove, that Billy Hargroves behaves, that Billy Hargrove comes within seconds, because Steve wants him to.

Steve's orgasm hits him right in the moment of realization and he pulls Billy's hair again, listening to the sweet sounds he has never thought he'd hear from Billy of all people.

"We still need to write that list," Billy says, putting his jeans back on. He buttons his shirt until a bright red bite mark is hidden underneath.

Steve reaches out for Billy's shirt and opens a few buttons again, so it's fully on display.

"I think I did my work already here."

He presses his fingers against the mark. Billy groans, a bit breathless.

"I hate you." It doesn't sound sincere.

#I'm not sure that's the team play the Coach was talking about #thanks for the prompt! #aren't we all kinda fruity? #at least in my mind we are but I'm that bi person that thought everybody was attracted to all/no matter what/if genders #but everybody is welcome here #harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve x billy #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic

[auspicioustidings]

It is I the 🎃anon I have returned from dead for some Xmas 141

Hey how have you been? I hope that you are having a wonderful time celebrating any festivities that you celebrate in winter

I had an idea for as always and obsessive 141 because I’m weird like that and I lack self control

So the 141 are friends with the reader and love the reader so they decide to kidnap them as their own Xmas gift

If you don’t feel comfortable with Xmas you can change it to any bother festivity that you choose if you even want to write it

Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah, or Happy Yule or any holiday you celebrate

The horrors have been persisting but so have I! Hope you're doing well pumpkin 🎃

Not got a fic for this because I'm struggling to be any sort of creative but I have a dumb idea for it :')

Johnny cannot stop thinking about you joking about whose tree you would wind up under. His. Should be his. Or well you'll all be on the little off the record base but you should still be under the tree for him. So he sort of a little bit ties you up and plops you there with a bow around you. And it's sort of funny? Sort of very concerning because he just excitedly leaves you there for himself on Christmas Eve and like... Johnny come on you're not just leaving me here right? Johnny?

You manage to yell Gaz over when he's up to get a glass of water and he nearly dies laughing. You think he's coming over to untie you but what he actually does is add a tag to you with his name on it. Nice of Johnny to wrap you all neat but he really should have put a tag on, not Gaz's fault it's easy to take advantage of that to make sure he's the one unwrapping you in the morning.

Now you're fully pissed because you really are not spending the whole night here for a fucking joke. You manage to wriggle your phone out of your pocket and call your Captain. Price comes in, checks the tag, rips it off and writes his own name across your collarbone in sharpie. You are gaping at him but he just brushes off any attempt to negotiate a release and heads off to bed.

Leave it to Simon to find you in the middle of the night. He gets the writing off with rubbing alcohol. He leaves and you have some hope when you hear him come back that maybe it was just to get something to get these bindings undone. Ah ha ha Simon that's a joke right? That's not a real tattoo machine right? WHAT ARE YOU DOING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. Simon is making sure nobody can take his name off of you on Christmas morning and the others can only admit defeat as he takes delight in unwrapping you in front of them and claiming his present.

#mhairianswers #mhairidrabbles

[rayshippouuchiha]

Great! You watched it so that means I don’t have to hold back! Mwahahaha you activated my hidden trapcard 😈

Jk jk but anyway LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR RIGHT??

Like, first they HAD to reinvent the whole Bible Genesis story to make him as freaking sympathetic as possible. I mean, a little dreamer whose ideas were dismissed? Who falls in love with a woman because he admired her “fierce independence”, then freaking gifts humanity in general and Eve in particular with FREE WILL? (I have so many headcanons about them btw; Adam being the way he is I think he and Lilith wanted Eve to have the chance to make decisions regarding her own body, relationship, and future that a life under Adam’s thumb as heaven had inteded would’ve denied her. I think they were very good friends once upon a time., and it kills me that we never see Eve again. Did she blame them for being kicked out of Eden? Or was she grateful to them? I’d love to know, I hope we see her next time). That’s all so freaking good already as a backstory, but then they add this:

At this moment my mind just, imploded with the implications. He gifted humanity with free will presumably because, as a joyous dreamer, he had firmly believed that they would create wonderful things and bring about a better world if they were allowed to think for themselves, but gradually over hundreds and thousands of years seeing only the absolute worst that humanity had to offer he seems to think that it was a mistake, and that’s so sad 🥺 He never got to see the good that came from his actions and became depressed as a consequence, probably blaming himself a bit for every ill-action and sin committed.

I was already primed to love him after that backstory right? But then they imply that he’s a neglectful, distant father to Charlie and she is such a good, pure girl that I started thinking maybe I was wrong to start liking him, maybe there was something off about him that the intro had left out since it was Charlie telling her parent’s story. But then we meet him and he’s just:

A cute, awkward little man? One who clearly loves his family to death if the ring still on his finger (after SEVEN FREAKING YEARS OF ABSCENCE, dear god) and the multiple, gigantic family portraits strewn about his room say anything?

Also, he seems like 2 steps away from an anxiety attack at any given time, especially when asked to speak over the phone. He just like me fr fr

And that, along with the fact that he says “this is the first time she’s called you in YEARS”, and that he seems so freaking happy and excited at even the insinuation that she wants to spend time with him,

Leads me to believe that his absence from Charlie’s life was caused by a mutual misunderstanding born of a similar thought process (namely “what if I’m bothering them? What if they think I’m annoying by calling when I don’t need anything? I should wait until I have a good reason to call, or until they call me”) or willfully by someone (Lilith does seem to take Charlie away from her father awfully quick during that one flashback, right? It’s not just me?). I mean, ^that’s not the face of a father who wants to stay away from his daughter because she reminds him of her mom, or even the face of a father who stayed away on purpose for some time and is now willing to reconnect. That looks more to me like the face of someone who has been eagerly awaiting even a single hint that he’s wanted before daring to appear before his daughter, and has now finally been given that chance after a long time and is ECSTATIC. And even then, it seems that even through his self-deprecation and depression he does do his best to reach out, at least more frequently than Charlie does (he called her 5 months ago, she hadn’t called in years, etc etc).

And then he gets to the hotel and he’s so small and cute and awkward and good with animals and I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I already did but I COULD. HOW DID THEY MAKE A CHARACTER SO APPEALING TO ME SPECIFICALLY THIS IS UNFAIR

Which leads me to my other big headcanon: I firmly believe Lucifer tried to get to know sinners in the beginning, and that he tried some kind of “redeem sinners” effort at some point, just like Charlie’s doing - Perhaps for hundreds of years. But he failed, time and time again, until his dreams were absolutely crushed and he ended up giving up on them for good. I mean, those lines:

“You invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring violence and chaos to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well-intentioned you are. They’re always gonna disappoint you!”

“Sinners are violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There’s really no point in trying”

^They all sound not like something he’s saying to rub it in Charlie’s face that he was right (which would be cruel and out of character for someone who seems to love his daughter so much), but more like a cautionary tale coming from a deeply ingrained experience, or like things he’s repeatedly told himself before.

And then during More Than Anything he says this:

“You didn’t know that when I tried this all before *gestures around him with his arms as if gesturing towards the hotel as a whole* my dreams were too hard to defend”

That just cemented that belief for me.

On another note, MORE THAN ANYTHING IS SO FREAKING GOOD?? I CRY EVERY TIME GODDAMMIT AFTER THAT SONG I WENT FROM “AW I LOVE THIS LITTLE MAN” TO “I’D DIE FOR HIM, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM I’LL KILL EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND THEN MYSELF”. HE’S JUST So- asfgctrdhfdg

AND I HAVEN!T EVEN TALKED ABOUT HOW BADASS HE IS FIGHTING ADAM OR HOW CUTE AND SWEET HE WAS COMFORTING CHARLIE DURING THE FINALE LOOK AT HIMMM

Or about Radioapple (aka DuckieDeer lol), the ship that has had me in a fucking chokehold since I watched episode 5. There are so many things I love about it that I’d need like 3 whole pages to explain but for now have all this absolutely fantastic fanart instead ❤️

Once again thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Btw any thoughts on Radioapple?

Oh oh Lucifer is such an interesting character and he absolutely makes me eager to see and learn more about the verse and the finer points of what is/has happened in it.

Personally, RadioDust grabbed me by the heart more than anything, since Alastor is my favorite with Angel Dust as a close second, but I do hands down see the appeal of Radioapple.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #RayRambles

[softboiledwonderland]

I'm rewatching The Librarians and I know everyone says S4 is the weakest season but like. it's perfect? It's literally art? Yes they went out on a limb a bit with some of the choices (not talking about the LITs arguing over who should be the Librarian, btw - of course they would! they had a whole episode about self-fulfilling prophecies! it makes so much sense in the context of the plot and their personal development), but! The last two episodes are perfect, just perfect, so genuine and heartfelt and earnest, everything I've loved about this show since the beginning, brought up to the next emotional level because hey - Eve carried the entire Library in her head and that's what saved it. And so did Flynn (Flynn!! Asylum Flynn broke me), and Jacob, and Cassandra, and Ezekiel! All of them are the heart of the Library, all of them are its keepers and its friends, they carry entire worlds in their heads and that's what saved the world! (I want to add something about Jenkins here too - I guess it's enough to say that none of them even wanted to stay on after what happened to him, of course he is its heart and keeper and friend too.)

That entire beginning of And the Trial of One, all dark and quiet and homey with Cassandra deciding to switch out the animal-cruelty stuff in the magic spell for tofu alternatives, hits so different knowing what's going to happen, and then there's that nightmare of a trial, and after that we step into that awful beige, mundane world without color or light or anything that means something, and Eve is trying to gather everyone and save them and slowly forgetting her home, everything that made her human instead of a shell, grasping at something that keeps slipping away like the memory of a dream… And Flynn!! Flynn who has been there for ages, and is still clinging to it! And the other three, who never forgot their dreams either!

And the writing, just the writing and the background music and the performances:

"You wonderful woman! You brought us all home." "You'll make me cry. I'm just a Guardian. Just doing my job." "No, you are the Guardian. You are my Guardian. Our Guardian." ;_;

"No, I gave everything I had to the Library, I gave it my love, I gave it my trust, and it took Jenkins! And I hate it!" (both Cass and I start sobbing here) "My best friend the sword, he taught me how to parry and thrust!" Flynn I love you so much <3

"We don't have to go home. We're already there."

I wouldn't say S4 is my favorite season, but in so many ways it's the most special one. Not because we say goodbye to the Library, but because the characters almost did - and then they brought it back, letting us know that it will always be there for us too.

#the librarians #eve baird #flynn carsen #jacob stone #cassandra cillian #ezekiel jones #jenkins #don't know if this makes sense #but I love this show so much #my happy show #that makes me cry on a regular basis #aaaand now I feel like writing more fanfic #but the fandom is so quiet and it's not as fun #I wish I could have seen it in its heyday #oh well fingers crossed re: the spinoff <3

[robintherobiner]

Types of fics i need more of:

de-age fics. Baby Bruce? Teen Bruce? Baby Dick? Teen Dick? Baby Jason? Teen Jason. The list goes on and on. deage them all. is it sad? is it funny? is it cute? is it traumatic? i dont care, make them all little.

ghost fics. i want Jason to haunt the shit out of his family. he sees them all grieving, comes back to life, and instead of killing people he just leaves ominous notes like "i saw you trip on your cape." or "leave fifty bucks at *address* or i'll tell everyone about your superman body pillow."

Tim being an utter loser. I love him, but he should be incredibly put together in public and then he gets home and just... is a mess. never felt the touch of anyone, woman or man. can do complex mathematical equations but needs a calculator to solve 4 x 3. think Sherlock Holmes, who can tell everything about you from one look but doesnt know the earth revolves around the sun.

Alfred being called out for being an enabler! fuck that old man, i hate him. however if he made me a cup of tea, i would die for him. Im a very complex person.

Dick being Damians dad. so cute, i love it. Damian deserves to have his own taste of found family. fuck blood of the womb, lets go with blood of the covenent or whatever the quote says.

Jason being childish!!! i think his mental age should younger than his physical one cuz, trauma, being dead, being catatonic in some cases, also just being pretty young anywas? gimme a fic where he comes home covered in blood cuz he just killed four guys and then goes to have a shower so he can play with his rubber duckies.

kiddie crushes!!! gimme more Jason loving Wonder Woman and being an utter fanboy when he encounters her. "Oh em gee you're here to apprehend me? Wonder Woman, this is such an honor, can i have your autograph-" Young Dick meeting Superman for the first time and hiding under Bruce's cap because "He's so pretty Bruce, he's gonna hear my heart go fast!" Tim meeting Constantine and, to everyones despair, somehow adoring him. "So you do magic? Thats like, so cool! Tell me all about it. My parents were archeologists, we probably have loads of of magical objects, do you wanna check them? Do you like coffee? Did you really sell your soul to multiple people? Thats so hot- I MEAN COOL SHIT FUCK-"

Literally anything about Dicks time in the circus. I think i've only read like two fics about it? Compared to the hundreds going indepth on Tim and Jason's childhoods?

Similar to the last one, but gosh the culture shocks they all probably had! Dick was used to constantly moving from city to city. Jason going from being on the street to a mansion. Tim going from boarding school, a place full of kids his own age, to being alone in his house so that he could be Robin. Damian was used to being respected and honored, he was a prince after all, only to suddenly be told that everything he knew was wrong.

Babs and Tim. I think they would get along, i wanna see them bonding!

Joker Junior. i know its not canon and it was only in like one cartoon but oh my GOD i love it.

Trauma reveals!! i love them. Dick's time in spyral, his apprenticeship with Deathstroke, the multiple fucked up relationships he's been in. Everything Tim did during 'Brucequest', Jasons time with the LOA, literally anything from Damians childhood.

Jon being aged up and his relationship with Damian! i dont even need to add anything, you get the point.

Dana, Jack, and Janet. I want it so bad!!! Dana is implied but never confirmed to be dead so bring her back and let her and Tim mourn!! let Tim find out his parents both slept with Bruce and have Bruce be like "oops i forgot about that, soz sweetie-" let tim hate christmas eve because thats when his mother was buried!

if anyone has recs for any of these sort of fics, PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME. i've probably read most of them already, but i have a terrible memory so i love re-reading fics. just, gimme gimme gimme

#i love my babygirls #dc comics #dc universe #batman comics #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #fic rec #fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batfam

[cetaceanhandiwork]

I don’t care about the checkmarks and I’m probably not gonna buy one unless I can think of some really funny way to use it. and to be clear, this post isn’t really about that.

but it was the inspiration for this post, because I saw some interesting secondhand discourse on the topic, which reminded me of this old XKCD episode

but I think there’s a better point to be made in this neighborhood than the sorta gratuitous “take that” approach Munroe used there

which is that if you let yourself get to the point where you see any expenditure of money “for fun” as wicked because there’s children starving in detroit, you have fallen for one of the central lies that money tries to indoctrinate us with: that you can math out everything in terms of +EV and opportunity cost, even things like good and evil.

and the reason you can’t math it out is that:

nobody on planet fucking earth knows enough to actually math out the consequences of an action. nobody has that level of perspective or context.

even if they did, how do you price those consequences against each other? there’s no way to compare one person’s pain to another’s; you’ll getting meaningless results, worse than useless. there’s a reason that we say “there’s no winners in misery poker”.

even if you could compare, how do you add or subtract? how do you do basic arithmetic when we know the hedonic treadmill exists, or that beyond a certain minimum successful care produces over-unity of happiness?

but we think we can anyway. we think we can b/c we live in a world where everything costs money and everyone needs money, where we’ve been trained to think that you can just convert X into a dollar-denominated opportunity cost and compare that way.

but that ain’t how good and evil work, and it ain’t how our hearts work. and it’s a deadly risk, because as soon as you start trying to do that math, you can get your arm twisted into believing that enough money can make something wrong into something right (b/c you can donate it to make something better happen than the bad thing you did). which, to be clear, is nonsense, and it’s the kind of thinking that ate Ana Mardoll (f’rex) alive.

or you start wondering if your existence is somehow a net negative to the world b/c you happen to take prescription meds paid for by medicaid. which, to be clear, is also nonsense and eats people alive every day.

and all this shit erodes your moral sense, your... fuckit, I’m just gonna say your conscience. b/c you keep telling it “no this good thing is bad actually because of the math” or vice versa until you get so much practice at it that nothing feels good anymore, or nothing feels bad anymore. and now you’re entirely off in deep space without even anything to base your busted math on.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. my own mutant ass take on virtue ethics is probably not an effective coda to this post b/c it’s not actually the point. and I’m definitely not saying that you shouldn’t spend your money on good causes. it’s good to care, and it’s good to act on that care! you’ll probably even enjoy it! but that’s not the point either. the point is more that “you should quit your topic X because my topic Y is more important” or “you should give up on real human being Z because my topic Y is more important” are snake oil, because you can’t even do math to those things in the first place without getting yourself irrecoverably, tragically confused.

#political posts #and in the interests of full disclosure this is also - however covertly - #eco talks religion

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien Mind Quest: Slow Motion Fireworks translation

do⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

I staggered and stumbled into Lucien's chest, my hands haphazardly pulling his already loose tie, causing his slightly open shirt to spread open completely.

I couldn't help but be captured by the charming bareness in front of me. His muscle tightened and then relaxed following our rhythm.

Like a vague provocative tease.

As if falling into his silent trap, my fingers were drawn to caress his bare skin, feeling the hard, clear lines beneath it.

My fingertips were tinged by the burning heat, and I slowly traced from the hard abdomen to his chest.

Translation under the cut!

(T/N:!! uploaded the full SP MQ on youtube with subtitle because I simply love how the bgm and voice add to the tension)

[Chapter 1]

MC: Hmm… A little more to the left, up a bit…Yes, yes, that's it! Now it's symmetrical!

MC: Lucien, what do you think?

While talking, I pulled Lucien back to the corridor, "appreciating" the New Year's arrangement that we had worked hard on all afternoon with satisfaction.

There are still a few days until New Year's Eve. We plan to keep everything simple and celebrate the New Year at home. So these days, the time after work has been reserved for our tacit project.

I took Lucien's arm and approached him.

MC: Do you think the new look is perfect~?

Lucien: I think it's hard not to be perfect with the Great Producer herself being in charge.

MC: Hmph, sooner or later, I will steal "The Art of Speaking: The Encyclopedia of Praising People" written by the Great Professor Lucien and study it carefully.

Lucien: Then, the next time I say something from my heart, I'll remember to write it down before I say it. So this curious student won't be disappointed.

He smiled with curved eyebrows and a serious tone as if he was simply stating a matter of fact.

MC: I-I can't beat you! Quick, put the stool away and go inside.

While Lucien put the footstool into the storage room, I put the holly into the vase in the entrance and hung a few small red lanterns on the fortune tree.

Just as I was happily taking out my phone to take pictures and record them, an alert popped up on the screen at an untimely moment-

"Unable to Save, Insufficient Storage Available"

MC: ...

Lucien: Looks like another big project will take place tonight.

Lucien: I wonder which unfortunate photos will be deleted by MC this time.

MC: There may also be unlucky app that will turn into dust.

Hearing Lucien's joking words, I couldn't help sticking out my tongue. I dragged him to sit on the sofa and nestled my whole body into his arms.

His familiar warmth gave me a sense of relief, and I couldn't resist nuzzling into the nook of his neck.

Then I skillfully opened the album, emptied the "recently deleted", and slid my finger to enter the thumbnail mode. A colorful mosaic instantly came into view.

I clicked on the last deleted section and went through the photos from that time one by one.

MC: Hahaha, this sticker pack is too funny. How did I save so much?

Lucien: Judging from the saving time at 02:28, this question should be easily answered.

MC: Hehe, Professor Lucien's eyes shouldn't be so sharp~

MC: Check out this barbecue… Is it the one near the institute?

Lucien: I think so. And if I remember correctly, we wanted to eat hot pot on that day, but we accidentally walked into this barbecue restaurant and got a delicious surprise.

MC: So, should we go and relive this delicacy tomorrow after work?

We had a little chat. Lucien raised his hand to stroke my bangs and suddenly changed the subject.

Lucien: Actually, I found something interesting.

MC: Hmm?

Lucien: Each time you clear your phone's memory, you seem to enjoy the process of flipping through your albums more than cleaning it.

MC: ...Yes, that's true. Perhaps "recalling" is the most important thing for me when it comes to organizing albums.

MC: You can save your photos in the cloud to solve the trouble of deleting them whenever you don't have enough memory.

MC: But I'd rather have the hassle and see these memories whenever I click on the album.

MC: After all, since I don't have a super brain like Professor Lucien, I can only use some stupid methods~

As I was talking, my fingertips passed over a beautiful landscape photo. I thought about it for a second and then prepared to press delete.

Lucien: Hold on a second.

I looked at Lucien with some confusion.

Lucien: I remember that this photo is lucky enough to have "survived" last week's session.

Lucien: At that time, the Great Producer said that the composition and light of this landscape were worth studying, so she wanted to keep it as a template for us to follow in our travels.

MC: It seems to be the case…

MC: But surprisingly, I could still feel the same feeling it used to give me when I saw it last week... Is it the visual impact?

MC: But today, I don't seem to feel it at all. It's just a simple and beautiful landscape picture.

Lucien: Is that so?

Lucien paused and faintly lowered his eyes.

Lucien: I think it may be because human emotions are very sensitive.

Lucien: It brings you pleasure for a fixed moment, and the emotion associated with it only stays in that moment.

Lucien: So when it is not "stimulating" enough for you to respond in the present, the brain receives a signal that allows you to conclude that it is "not important".

MC: It sounds like a somewhat cruel process...

MC: But both the phone memory and the brain are limited. I just want my limited memory to record what I want to remember.

Lucien softly laughed, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me.

Lucien: It seems that things that are not "exciting" enough can't have a place to MC.

Lucien: Even if they only existed for a short time, it is difficult to escape the possibility of being forgotten or abandoned.

Seeing that he was talking about it in a serious way, I couldn't refrain from reaching out and hooking my arm around his neck, slightly narrowing the distance between us.

MC: Isn't it because Professor Lucien is by my side?

MC: I wouldn't worry about losing the "excitement" in my life. Because I have someone who can always keep my life fresh.

Lucien: Then, in order to live up to this expectation...

He lowered his head and dropped a gentle, light kiss on my lips as he said that.

Lucien: (whisper) I have to work harder than I imagined.

[Interlude- Lucien's Exclusive Radio: On a Whim]

Pete: Professor, the results of today's experiment are expected to be available tomorrow afternoon.

Pete: Do I need to call you after the results are out?

Lucien: No need. I won't be in Loveland City tomorrow.

Pete: Are you going on a business trip tomorrow?

Lucien: Pete, do I seem like a workaholic to you?

Pete: …You misunderstood, Professor. I had just never heard about your vacation before.

Pete: Then I will compile the experiment's results into a report and send it to your email address.

Lucien: Thanks for the hard work.

Pete: Professor, since I am curious, I would like to ask you a question… Are you going to travel on vacation?

Lucien: Well, not really. Just an unplanned decision to sail on a cruise.

Pete: So sudden? Oh, I see, it must be the idea of your family member.

Lucien: It is my idea.

Lucien: With New Year's Eve just a few days away, it's the perfect time to take a short cruise.

Pete: I see~ So, Professor, which route are you going to choose? It's almost New Year's Eve. I want to take my family out to have fun too.

Lucien: It's still undecided.

Lucien: Because I was just about to book a ticket.

Pete: Oh, oh! I will not bother you.

(Lucien calling someone)

Customer Service: Hello, this is the special line for the cruise ticket purchase. How can I help you?

Lucien: Hello, I saw on the internet that tomorrow there is a trip to the neighboring sea. Are there any tickets left?

Customer Service: Please wait for a moment.

Customer Service: Are you talking about the two-day, two-night trip that leaves tomorrow in the early evening?

Lucien: Yes.

Customer Service: Yes, there are some. What should I call you?

Lucien: Doctor X.

Customer Service: Doctor X, let me confirm with you that we have a special feature on our cruise-

Customer Service: In order to provide a more pure enjoyable experience, the signal is completely blocked once the ship is sailing.

Customer Service: WiFi service is still provided, but it is an additional purchase. Is this acceptable to you?

Lucien: Of course, I chose this cruise because of this feature.

Customer Service: Okay, how many tickets do you need?

Lucien: Two.

Customer Service: Do you share a room?

Lucien: Book me two rooms that are next to each other.

Lucien: If possible, please try to arrange a quiet floor for us.

Customer Service: Okay. I will send the ticket information to your phone later.

Lucien: Just send me my ticket information.

Lucien: The other ticket information can be sent directly to this lady. I will read out her number.

[Chapter 2]

The receding scenery outside the car window passed me by, and I was still in a trance when I looked at the cruise ticket information on my phone screen.

MC: ...Lucien.

MC: Are you sure we're not going shopping for New Year's Eve but going to the pier for a cruise?

Lucien: I think I already answered this question when you received your ticket information.

Lucien's voice came from the end of the receiver.

Lucien: It's not a scam, nor is it a prank.

Lucien: We indeed have a two-day, two-night cruise waiting for us.

MC: But you didn't mention this trip at all until now, and… Why don't we go together?

Lucien: If I were to say that I was trying to copy a certain Miss Kidnapper, would you accept that as a reason?

(a reference to Devotion Date :")

His soft voice is wrapped in a smile, and when I listen closely, I can hear the sound of the waves lapping against the rocks.

MC: Then I now seriously suspect that this "kidnapping" was premeditated!

Lucien: You wronged me. It's really just a "whim".

MC: Are you going to say, "No matter how rigorous a scientist is, there are times when he doesn't plan"?

Lucien: (chuckle) Here's the thing. Just allow this guy to get hotheaded and self-indulgent for once.

Lucien chuckled very shallowly, which led me to raise my eyebrows. He slowly opened his mouth as if guessing what else I wanted to say.

Lucien: I chose this cruise because it will return to Loveland City before New Year's Eve.

Lucien: I don’t think it’ll affect our planned New Year’s Eve dinner.

Lucien: So, for the rest of the trip, Miss MC just needs to enjoy this unexpected trip. I'll see you on the cruise.

After successfully checking in, the staff led me to my room.

The warm sunlight poured in from the terrace, and the sea breeze carrying the water vapor gave a light gold coating to the scenery in front of us.

The large room is neat and bright, but there is no trace of luggage, let alone a person.

Strange, where is Lucien? He should have boarded the ship before me.

MC: Excuse me, is there another gentleman in this room who hasn't checked in yet?

Staff: The only guest information shown here is that of Miss MC.

MC: ...?

I was stunned for a moment. After thinking about it, I took out my mobile phone but found that there was no signal. I hurriedly walked outside with my mobile phone in hand, but the signal was only restored to one bar.

Staff: Miss MC, I'd like to introduce you again. Our cruise's special feature is blocking the signal after we go to sea.

Staff: The goal is to provide cruise guests with the ultimate experience and to enjoy a cruise that is not dominated by the information age but rather to focus on themselves.

Staff: If you have special circumstances, you can contact the service desk for a WiFi purchase.

MC: …Okay, thank you.

After sending off the enthusiastic staff, I couldn't help but sigh. How do I get in touch with Lucien?

I circled the room. Perhaps because of my sixth sense, I vaguely feel that I can find something

Finally, I found a crumpled post-it note on the floor of the entrance door, which appeared to have slipped through the door.

I leaned down to pick it up and saw familiar handwriting.

MC: "Looking forward to meeting you by chance."

For a moment, I felt as if I could see the expression on his face as he wrote this line.

The corners of his lips are drawn up, and he probably curved his eyes.

Although I couldn't guess what this Great Professor was thinking, I couldn't let him down if he was waiting for me to find him.

Without hesitation, I picked up the cruise brochure on the table and left the room.

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

20 minutes later.

The red sunset has been swallowed by the ocean, and the sea breeze is gently blowing, but it does not dispel the anxiety in my heart.

I looked in almost every place I thought Lucien would go, from the library to the screening room and coffee shop, but I still couldn't find him.

MC: Where on earth did this guy run off to….

I pursed my lips and wondered if I was going in the wrong direction.

If Lucien is not where he might be, then maybe he's where I don't think he'll be?

With this in mind, I went to the nearest bar to try my luck.

As my vision becomes dim, the sound of loud music rushes into my ears. The air is filled with the scent of alcohol, and the ambiguous atmosphere corrupts the senses.

Within the mottled light and shadow, the whole world seems to be tinted with a hazy sense of unreality.

I saw the figure my heart longed for almost at a glance.

Lucien wore slim-fitting strappy pants, and his collar was wide open. He combed up almost all of his bangs. The light refracted beneath his eyes, making those eyes appear even brighter.

He slightly narrowed his eyes at the countless expectant eyes and raised his hand to throw the dart in his hand.

In the next second, the dart landed squarely in the bullseye.

Crowd: Whoa-

Bartender: Congratulations to the gentleman who scored another 50 points and succeeded in securing the victory!

Lucien: Thanks, I appreciate it. It's just good luck.

Amidst the cheers surrounded by the crowd, Lucien nodded in appreciation. The smile on his face was always mild.

I seemed to be completely nailed to the spot, unable to take my eyes off the person in front of me.

He moved in a way that I am familiar with, yet it was as though everything was different.

For a moment, I couldn't even tell what the cause of this restlessness was.

Lucien cast his gaze over and bumped into me.

My heart inexplicably beat a bit faster. I was about to walk towards him, but Lucien naturally averted his eyes and turned his head to joke with the people beside him.

MC: Eh?

Didn't he see me? I vaguely felt that this person must have done it on purpose, so I pretended to walk back and forth naturally in his peripheral vision, secretly observing.

But Lucien remained calm as if he didn't care about my existence at all.

It was as if I was isolated in a small world, separated from all the noise around me, filled with only one person in my heart and eyes.

Bartender: Anyone else wants to challenge our Mr. Challenger?

MC: I... I want to challenge him!

I didn't expect my voice to be so loud that the atmosphere seemed to be silent for half a second.

When I came to my senses, all eyes fell on me, along with the person I had been looking at.

[Interlude- Lucien's Memory Silhouette: Special Game]

People are coming and going in the corridor of the cruise ship, and the tourists are confirming their room numbers one by one.

Lucien stood in front of the door of one of the rooms, bent down a little, and slipped a sticky note through the door's crack.

The passing tourists just looked at him and smiled politely when they saw his elegant manner without asking further questions.

Lucien stood up, lifted his hand to confirm the time, then turned around and left the corridor.

He wanted to play a little word game with her to kick off the cruise trip with some special "excitement".

As smart as she is, she will not fail to discover this little hidden secret.

But he still hoped she would find the clues he left behind as soon as possible and then find him.

Lucien aimlessly came to the front of the deck, watching people enter one after another from the boarding gate, and his gaze unconsciously lingered for a while longer.

He has to admit that he was looking forward to her familiar figure.

But now is not the right time.

There is still a lot to do before they "reunite".

Lucien looked away, walked to the cruise ship's bar, and ordered a non-alcoholic mojito from the bar.

This was probably the last place she would have thought of, at least not so early.

But it's enough to show that meeting here will bring them something different.

Waiter: Your Mojito.

Lucien: Thank you.

Lucien lowered his head and took a sip, the refreshing and stimulating taste smeared between his lips and teeth. He couldn't wait to recommend this drink to the girl.

With that in mind, he turned on his phone and habitually tried to check if a call had come in, but the space in the upper right corner reminded him that there was no signal there.

So he scrolled the screen twice and unconsciously opened his photo album.

The photos on the screen were so well organized that he couldn't resist recalling the thumbnails of her albums.

Not only are the colors rich, but sometimes there are even several remarkably similar photos in a row.

When compared to her photo album, his own album seems to be quite monotonous.

But all of them are related to her.

It is like when you plant a flower, you record it from when it is still a seed until the moment it blooms.

Lucien recalled the girl's slightly distressed expression due to the lack of memory on her phone and unconsciously smiled softly.

He always planned and arranged everything, so he never encountered the problem she was struggling with.

But her look as if she is facing the world's problems is very cute, which makes him feel much happier when he thinks about it these days.

In this happy mood, Lucien quickly finished drinking the mojito in his hand.

The bar gradually becomes more and more lively, with people's desire for the festival and the wonder of exploring the cruise ship showing in their expression.

What will her expression look like when she sees him here?

Will her eyes widen slightly, or will she purse her lips in puzzlement?

Lucien again admitted that he had added a few more expectations for her appearance.

To be precise, he was looking forward to seeing her with each passing second.

He glanced down at the time again. It would take some time to get from home to the pier. She should still be on her way.

Even he who had been able to spend several years waiting for an experimental result peacefully, now began to feel a little impatient because of this expectation.

He even opened 3 match game by accident, and after absent-mindedly playing a few levels, he suddenly heard a round of applause from behind him.

Lucien followed the sound and found a group of tourists playing darts, seemingly playing in some kind of competition.

He observed for a moment as if realizing something and looked in the direction of the bar entrance.

From the entrance, the darts game is right in the middle of the bar, the most visible part of the entire bar.

Lucien slowly stood up and walked towards the lively crowd.

He wanted her to see him at a glance.

[Chapter 3]

The crowd tacitly dispersed to two sides, and suddenly a narrow road leading to Lucien was spread out in front of me.

I belatedly took a deep breath and walked towards him. Faced with my probing eyes, Lucien calmly looked back.

Lucien: I accept this lady's challenge.

.....Still pretending not to know me? All right, then I will play along with you.

I suppressed the complex emotions in my heart, turned my gaze to the bartender, cleared my throat, and slightly lifted my chin.

MC: What are the rules of the challenge? Or…

I deliberately stretched out the end of my sentence and turned my gaze to Lucien, putting on a polite smile.

MC: Are the rules set by this Mr. Challenger?

Lucien leisurely looked at me and raised his eyebrows as if he didn't expect me to say that.

Lucien: Is it true that no matter what my rules are, this lady will definitely obey them?

MC: Absolutely. Since I'm challenging you, of course I will respect your requirements.

Lucien: [chuckle] Okay.

He didn't hesitate to speak and even curved his lips in a good mood. I suddenly felt diffident and quickly spoke up before he could propose any unreasonable rules

MC: …But I have one small request.

MC: Actually, I was a little nervous because Mr. Challenger seemed to be very good at this kind of game.

MC: I'm also sincere about the challenge, so please don't make it difficult for me. I hope your rules are simple and easy to understand.

Lucien: I've always admired girls with a lot of courage, so naturally, I won't intentionally make things difficult.

Humph, you better be.

He ignored my stabbing glare and pretended to think seriously for a moment.

Lucien: My rules are simple.

Lucien: You have three chances to throw. If the cumulative points of those three chances are more than 50, you will win the challenge.

Lucien: What do you think, brave lady?

His words stirred up a lot of discussion among the crowd, as if everyone didn't expect Lucien's rules to be so simple, and there was even some suspicion that he was throwing the game.

MC: Since Mr. Challenger is so "generous", I can't disappoint this kindness.

Looking at the taunting look at the corner of Lucien's mouth, I gritted my teeth and picked up a dart, carefully gauging the angle. I can't let him underestimate me!

But the result of "careful calculation" is that one miss, one 25 points.

MC: ...

A thin layer of sweat seeped out of my palms as I looked at the dartboard in front of me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.

I still have a chance, as long as I get double points on the last try…

Lucien: [chuckle]...

The familiar soft laugh came to my ears and instantly disturbed my thoughts. I looked at the perpetrator with some annoyance. He was facing the bar and slightly raised his fingertips.

Lucien: One non-alcoholic mojito please.

Lucien: For the lady.

After he finished speaking, he looked at me with a meaningful smile on the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: I think you might need a little more time. While I don't mind waiting, the outcome of this challenge now seems to have attracted too much attention.

Lucien: Maybe it's time to let the curtain fall.

Following Lucien's gaze, I realized that twice as many people had surrounded the surrounding area as earlier.

My cheeks felt a little hot, I lowered my head and rubbed the dart repeatedly, but I was still not ready to throw it.

At that moment, a brightly colored drink slowly appeared in my view. I raised my eyes, and my gaze collided with Lucien's.

Lucien: But if this lady would like to be friends with me...

Lucien: I'll voluntarily admit defeat in this challenge.

His low and deep voice was tainted with an inexplicable flirtation, and my heart suddenly missed half a beat.

The light cast an obscure shadow on Lucien's face, adding a bit of unpredictable danger to those smiling eyes.

He looked like he was expecting an answer or simply admiring the object's reaction in his hand.

I reached out and gently placed my fingers on the bottom of the glass to push it towards Lucien, my fingertips inadvertently brushing against his fingers.

In this challenge that I knew I didn't have much chance of winning, I chose to outsmart him.

MC: Thank you sir, for your kindness, but I still want to try again.

MC: Why don't you teach me by hand? Is that okay?

Lucien's eyes moved slightly as if he were a little surprised. Amidst the booing, he quietly walked behind me and slightly bowed his body.

My back instantly felt warm, and his breath fluttered against my ear, tickling it.

Lucien: Then I'd like to ask for your cooperation.

As he said that, he gently took my hand and led me to bend my arm as he did.

His broad palm wrapped tightly around the back of my hand, and his fingertips suddenly tickled my palm twice in a restless manner.

MC: (blush) You...

Lucien: Don't be distracted. Focus.

His righteous tone was as if he was not the one who did the little action.

Before I could react, he held my wrist with a slight force-

In a smooth parabola, the dart hit the one he had left on the target earlier, firmly striking into the bullseye.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I instantly thought of a perverse idea.

MC: This should be considered as my third chance.

MC: Does that mean I've won the challenge, Mr. Challenger?

I slightly distanced myself from him and winked slyly at Lucien. He sighed in feigned regret and extended his hand toward me in a friendly manner.

Lucien: Mm, you won.

Lucien: It's a pleasure to meet you, this brave, beautiful and clever lady.

Lucien: Now, can we sit down and have a drink?

MC: Of course we can. It would be my pleasure.

I cocked my head pretentiously, gently shook his finger, and withdrew my hand. I looked down and took a sip of my mojito.

The refreshing taste washed away the warmth that had been in my chest since earlier, making my whole body much more comfortable.

The misty light passing through the wine glasses cast colorful light spots on the wall. As the light dimmed, the joyful music changed into a lingering dance song.

(Cue his 5th birthday bgm 🥺)

Scattered people walk onto the dance floor, hugging and clinging to sway along to the melody.

I raised my head and found Lucien's eyes waiting for a long time.

MC: As a thank you for the mojito, may I ask you to dance, sir?

Lucien: It was my negligence to let the lady ask first. I don't think I have any reason to refuse you.

In the lazy melody, Lucien stepped on the beat and took a small step to the left, elegantly extending his hand as if in invitation.

But the moment I approached him, an irresistible force wrapped around my waist and guided me to spin around.

My mind went blank for a moment, and I instinctively clung to Lucien's shoulders, trying to clutch the only fulcrum among the imbalance.

MC: …Y-you, wait a minute!

He didn't give me time to catch my breath. His broad palm slowly moved up to my back, causing a tingling feeling, and then powerfully swept me into his arms.

The scorching breath swept over the tip of my nose, and there seemed to be some kind of emotion swirling in those deep eyes.

Lucien: (whisper) What if I say I don't want to wait anymore?

Lucien: (chuckle, then continuing his whisper) We have wasted some time, so we should hurry now.

MC: You… You are simply unreasonable! You're the one who left a message with no clue, so I had to spend a long time looking for you.

MC: It's hard to find you, but then you pretend to be a stranger, playing some kind of chance encounter game with me…

Looking at my feigned angry pout, Lucien raised his eyebrows with interest and took advantage of the change in the melodic beat to tug my wrist and embrace me from behind.

Lucien: But you played along very well, didn't you? I think you're having fun with it.

MC: And that's not because of you!

Lucien: Oh? What's wrong with me?

His earnest voice is wrapped in bright and bold confidence, so I can't resist lightly pinching the palm of his hand, breaking away from this somewhat flirtatious embrace.

Lucien smoothly hooked my little finger, and with a little force, he made me mess up my steps to go toward him again.

Lucien: Not going to answer?

He looked at me persistently, his deep eyes like a pool of water that would engulf me at any moment.

The strange emotion in my heart stirred and clamored quietly, making me raise my head unconsciously and look straight into his eyes.

MC: Do you want a straightforward answer or a tactful one?

Lucien: (chuckle) I want both.

MC: Aren't you being too cheeky?

Lucien: Mm, I'll admit that.

I couldn't stop my smile, and by some mysterious chance, I put my arms around his neck and let him lead me through the melody.

MC: Now that you are like this, you look like the Lucien I am familiar with.

Lucien: What kind of Lucien are you familiar with?

MC: He's just like you now, righteously rogue, openly wicked, a complete big bad villain.

Lucien: He sounds so bad.

I nod my head in agreement.

MC: But I like this kind of him very much.

The melodic rhythm suddenly became more passionate, and the intense tempo drowned out my pounding heart.

Lucien's eyes flickered. His dance steps suddenly accelerated, making me subconsciously catch up and tighten my arms around him,

Lucien: Do you only like this kind of him?

MC: Of course not… cough.

MC: You, why do you have so many questions! I have a bunch of questions that I haven't even asked yet.

I changed the subject awkwardly, secretly annoyed at my disobedient mouth. Fortunately, Lucien didn't chase the question. He raised his eyebrows, showing a look of listening attentively.

Only then did I realize that the distance between us had unknowingly become too close. I could clearly see his eyelashes fluttering as he breathed.

I don't know if it's because he slicked back his bangs, but today his subtle expressions seem to have become more vivid, or even more…

Alluring.

Lucien: Is your question in my face?

MC: …That is true as well.

MC: After all, I've hardly ever seen Professor Lucien put on hair wax. I don't know how good you are at bar games and…

MC: ..how good you are at dancing.

I said as I slipped my fingers through his straps, sliding them slowly down his collarbone to his chest, and with a wicked hook, I used the force to move away.

The music ends at this moment.

Lucien didn't let go of my hand; instead, he gently lifted my hand and bent down. A gentle kiss fell on the back of my hand, tickling the edge of my heart.

Lucien: When it comes to the first meeting, it is necessary to create a deep impression.

Lucien: It seems that my purpose has been achieved.

Lucien: I hope you'll have good dreams tonight. Beautiful lady, I'll see you tomorrow.

[Chapter 4]

I didn't sleep well all night.

I don't know how many times I rolled over, the thin sunlight squeezed through the cracks in the curtains, and it was finally dawn.

Last night, Lucien turned around and left after saying a few words without glancing back at me.

I returned to my room in a daze, and after a series of emotional struggles, I decided to wait and see what would happen.

But I didn't expect that the person who disturbed my thoughts all night would be staying in the room next to mine.

Perhaps while I was up all night thinking about him, he continued to plan things beyond my imagination wickedly.

And, of course it is also possible that he waited leisurely and calmly for my various reactions to appear.

I gritted my teeth and turned my gaze to the terrace next door.

Is he still up at this hour?

...Damn it, don't think about it anymore! I quickly shook my head, hoping my brain would recover, at least for a short time to enjoy the moment of relaxation.

??: Good morning, Miss Next Door. Did you sleep well last night?

MC: ....

A familiar voice sounded behind me, tinged with a lazy chuckle.

For a moment, I wondered if Lucien had some kind of superpower to listen to my inner voice.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to be quiet for ten seconds before turning back, and changed to an unperturbed expression the moment I turned around.

The light swayed on his body and slipped into his eyes, creating gentle ripples.

Like yesterday, he slicked back his bangs, making the eyes looking at me look even more bewitching.

My heart beat faster than it should. I blinked at him and looked around in mock confusion.

MC: Are you talking to me?

MC: Sorry, I don't think I know you.

Lucien: Really?

Lucien: We had a dance last night. It breaks my heart if the lady forgets it so soon.

MC: Really?

I imitated his voice and pretended to look up and down at him.

MC: Oh~ I have a little impression.

MC: I'm sorry, I have a poor memory. The lights were too dim last night, and the dance was too short, so it's hard to remember.

He nodded thoughtfully and then changed the conversation.

Lucien: The lady seems to travel alone?

MC: …Yes, just, alone.

Hearing the undisguised teasing in his words, I maliciously popped out a few words, showing a flattering smile.

MC: You also seem to be alone too, sir. You are interesting, traveling on a cruise by yourself~

Lucien: Maybe it's because I want to meet someone who coincides with me.

MC: And, have you met them?

Lucien: Mm. But she didn't seem impressed with me.

Lucien: I'm also a little hesitant now. Not sure if I should take the initiative again….

MC: Of course, you should!

I subconsciously blurted out. Lucien's lips raised an inch of smile.

Lucien: What if she refuses?

MC: ...You should try it first.

Lucien: Then...

Lucien: Would you like to give me the opportunity to deepen your impression of me, the lady with poor memory?

His voice was soft as if it was melting with all the sunlight of a warm winter.

Looking at the neatly folded bathrobe on the sofa, I felt my ears getting a little hot.

Staff: Doctor X, your reservation for the ice sauna room is at 3:30 pm. You can change your clothes in the lounge and sit for a while.

Doctor.X? I looked at Lucien questioningly but found him nodding a little.

Perhaps feeling my persistent puzzled gaze, Lucien solemnly stretched out his hand towards me.

Lucien: I was in too much of a hurry last night and didn't have time to introduce myself.

Lucien: What's your name, Miss?

MC: ....

MC: Producer.MC.

As if he didn't expect me to say that, Lucien was stunned for a moment and then couldn't help laughing.

He lowered his head and came close to me, his overflowing breath brushing against my ear.

Lucien: (chuckle then whisper) The Great Producer can always do something beyond my imagination.

Lucien: (whisper) It's surprising, delightful… and joyful.

Without waiting for my reply, he turned around and naturally took off his coat as if he was planning to change.

It's as if the whisper was just a secret no one knew about.

Seeing that I didn't move, Lucien turned his head back, but his hands kept moving.

Lucien: Aren't you going to change?

He spoke in a sincere and honest tone, which in turn gave me nowhere to hide my secret little thoughts.

I sheepishly turned my attention to the inner ice sauna room, just a curtain away, where the staff was preparing for the sauna.

MC: I was thinking that…

MC: We just met last night, and now you are asking me to "lay ourselves bare"*. Isn't it seem to be a bad idea?

(T/N: 坦诚相见 is an idiom that means that two people treat each other sincerely and tell each other what they think without reservation.)

I deliberately spoke measuredly, secretly observing Lucien's expression, trying to get back in this "role-playing" game.

Lucien squinted his eyes and raised a smile.

Lucien: So, things seem to be moving a little fast.

Lucien: How about we make up for the steps we skipped?

MC: What do you mean?

Lucien did not answer. Under the dense light, his fingertips slowly slid down to the front of his waist, seemingly rubbing a circle.

Lucien: Can you help me?

Lucien: I can't seem to do it alone.

He said it sincerely, and his tone had a hint of grievance. It seems to be a request, but it is irresistible.

As if compelled, I instinctively walked towards him.

MC: What do you need me to do?

Lucien: Give me your hand.

Instead of turning around, he took my hand and made me approach him from behind.

My view was blocked entirely, and I could only feel my fingertips being moved past the scorching heat and to the side.

Lucien's movements were unusually slow as if tracing. Our hands finally ended up on his strap, and he let go of my hand.

Lucien: Help me unbuckle this. It's hard to do it myself.

Compared to the soft and silky shirt, the slightly stiffer texture allowed my fingertips to find their place instantly, but this is not where the buckle is.

MC: I can't see you this way…

Lucien: This buckle is special. It is more convenient to unbuckle from the back.

He spoke with a great conviction that I had no choice but to close my eyes and grope down for the strap buckle.

I held the strap and slipped my fingers between it and his shirt.

His body heat is quietly burning through the shirt. I moved down, and my fingertips trembled when they touched the cold metal.

Lucien: (whisper) You've found the right location.

His voice was a little low, drifting in my ears, and seemed to burrow into my heart from the other side of my chest.

I fumbled with the buckle's position and moved it down vigorously the way I used to unbuckle the strap.

But the buckle seemed stuck, and I couldn't release the strap from the buckle even after going up and down for a while.

Lucien: (chuckle) ....

MC: I...can't seem to find the right place.

MC: Help me out… Wait, no. You're the one who wants me to help you from behind...

As I said that, I felt a little irritated and wanted to let it go, but in the next moment, I was firmly restrained in place.

Lucien: It is very elastic. You have to hold it tightly, don't let go easily.

Lucien: Last night, I was hurt for a long time because of a certain "unintentional act" by Miss MC.

MC: …What kind of nonsense are you talking about!

I want to reach out and cover Lucien's mouth, but I don't dare to let go of my grip on the strap buckle.

At a loss, I had no choice but to use my eyes to hint him that there were other people in the room.

But Lucien obviously ignored me, or rather, he did it on purpose.

Lucien: (whisper) Don't you remember what you did to me last night? Are you so irresponsible?

MC: ...!

I subconsciously pinched his waist, causing the person in front of me to utter a muffled grunt.

As if he was finally done playing, he tugged my fingertips and moved them up and down a bit.

"Click"

Lucien: It seems that I get caught in my own trap.

He let go of my burning hand and turned his face sideways to cast a somewhat deep glance at me, and with his other hand, he pulled down the other strap that had not been unbuckled.

Lucien: I'll take care of the rest myself.

MC: Hmph, you'll have to do it yourself this time.

I was a little dismayed by his mischief. So I stood on my tiptoes and tugged the strap down, intending to buckle it back up.

MC: Didn't you say that you can't do it alone?

MC: I'll buckle it back for you, and you can unbuckle it yourself.

Lucien turned around and grabbed my wrist, my center of gravity was unsteady, and I crashed straight into his arms.

In the next second, an unexpected kiss landed.

The tip of his tongue gently and overbearingly pried open my lips, and his hot breath fluttered on my face.

MC: Lu...

He completely swallowed my whispered words, and his breath was overwhelming.

Instinctively, I closed my eyes and felt his grip on my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up and completely surrender myself to him.

Our hot breaths rose and fell, and my brain became dizzy from the rising heat. I tightened my arms around him, responding to his eager demand.

Until a rustling sound came from the room separated by a curtain.

[Interlude- Memory Silhouette: Terrace Trap]

The lights in the bar gradually became darker, and the music confused my thoughts. I stood blankly by the bar counter, somewhat at a loss.

Lucien left the bar after kissing my hand, leaving me with a racing heart and chaotic thoughts.

Bartender: Miss, do you want to order?

MC: No, thank you.

No matter how lively the bar atmosphere is, without Lucien's presence, there is only dull noise left for me.

I walked out of the bar, through the ornate lobby, the crowded deck, and the long hallway, and returned to my room in one breath.

After closing the door, I realized that I was looking around intentionally or unintentionally all the way just now, looking for that familiar figure. My heart was inexplicably a little blocked.

This Lucien… Why didn't he come to see me?

I took out my phone and confirmed the signal. After thinking for a moment, I went to the bedside and picked up the phone in my room. I wanted to ask the reception desk about buying the WiFi.

But as soon as I put my fingertips on the button, I couldn't help but see those sly and determined eyes in front of me.

MC: ....

I rubbed my face with slight annoyance and put the phone down.

Well, then let's see what you really want to do.

I forced myself to stop dwelling on it and simply changed into a comfortable set of loungewear, pulled open the terrace door, and went outside the room to the terrace.

The sea at night is like wrinkled blue silk, spreading deeply in front of me.

The room I was in seemed to be quiet, with only the sea breeze blowing away some of the mixed emotions in my mind.

It wasn't until I took two steps forward that I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure on the terrace next door.

MC: Lucien?

Lucien: Good evening, Miss Next Door.

Lucien: I didn't expect to see you again so soon.

The man who greeted me was sitting calmly on a cushioned chair on the terrace, holding a foreign-language novel in his hands.

A bathrobe casually wrapped around his slim body, his hair falling in front of his forehead, swaying slightly with the sea breeze.

So much for a leisurely and relaxing vacation time!

When I thought I was distracted by this "culprit" five minutes ago, I felt a hot current rising in my chest.

I wish I could take a big stride and bite him right now, then ask him exactly what he wants to do.

But to deal with such "cunning" people, I must use a more clever way.

For example, treat others the same way they treat you.

Since you want to indulge in this encounter game, I will accompany you to the end!

So I grunted softly, resisted the urge to peek at him, forced myself to look out to sea, and then turned back to my room without a second glance.

Lucien couldn't help smiling when he saw the girl leave the terrace and pull the curtains.

He did show up here on purpose.

In the most direct and somewhat mischievous way, he told her he was in the closest place.

And from a selfish point of view, he also wanted to see her one more time. So he made a little bet with himself that she would show up.

It's like finding an outlet for his own anxious mood.

But looking at her back as she left in a huff, that strange feeling returned again.

Lucien put away the novel he hadn't read and stood up.

It turns out that a flower takes such a long time to bloom.

[Chapter 5]

My brain instantly regained its discarded sanity. I snapped open my eyes and saw the unhurried smile in the corner of Lucien's eyes.

He pressed his palm on the back of my head with a slight force, and his fingertips dug into my hair, cutting off my room to retreat.

Steady footsteps sounded in the inner room, and I quickly blinked at Lucien, but he remained indifferent.

He even pressed me step by step against the wall and closed my eyes, not giving me a chance to breathe.

MC: ...Uh!

My lips and tongue were repeatedly nibbled on, causing a slight twinge of pain, and soon only a tingling sensation remained.

Staff: The room is ready. Now we will give you a brief instructions on how to use the ice sauna room.

Staff: Before entering the room, please…

The sudden unfamiliar voice made me tremble subconsciously but was quickly eliminated by the scorching heat surrounding me.

Behind the thin curtain, I could see the vague silhouette of a person, and I felt as if my heart was about to pop out.

My hands were clutching Lucien's shirt and the unbuckled straps. My ears were buzzing, and I couldn't hear what the other side was saying.

Lucien: MC.

Lucien softly called my name, finally distancing ourselves a little. His breath landed on the corner of my lips, and the end of his voice was wrapped in an ambiguous tone.

Lucien: The ice sauna room has another exit reserved for the staff.

Lucien: (whisper) So, he won't come over.

I blinked and slowly understood what he meant.

MC: Did you already know that? Then why are you telling me just now…

Lucien: Maybe it's because... I'm what you call a big bad villain.

His fingers slowly brushed the side of my neck, the corners of my lips, the tip of my nose, and then he tenderly and lovingly cupped my face.

Lucien: Now that there are no more worries, can I continue?

The kiss that fell again was tender and lingering, like a gentle rain, making people fall deep into it.

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

After a very long time, Lucien finally let me go. His arm naturally slid to my lower back while still wrapping me in his embrace.

Then he just quietly looked at me without saying anything.

The air still seemed to be dense with vapor; I was a bit shy from his stare, so I poked him in the face.

MC: You, why do you keep looking at me.

Lucien: Because I want to look at you.

MC: That's an invalid answer.

Lucien: But that's my answer.

Lucien: Because I want to look at you, and I want to kiss you. So when my brain gives these signals, I follow the instructions.

He said it bluntly and frankly, but it made my heart ripple.

Lucien: In my calculation, an unexpected encounter takes a certain amount of time to develop.

Lucien: 48 hours is enough for a relationship to grow from unfamiliar to familiar, with different emotional stimuli.

Lucien: That was my original plan.

Lucien reached out and tucked the strands of loose hair into my ears. He spoke in riddles, but I seemed to understand something.

A sudden softness in my heart enticed me to ask the question I knew the answer to.

MC: So Professor Lucien's carefully planned chance encounter was disrupted by me, right?

Lucien: The subjective factor is you, but the objective factor…

Lucien paused for a moment.

Lucien: It's me who is greedy.

Lucien: I didn't want the things related to me to become boring and ordinary after a long period of time. So I impulsively carried out this somewhat wilful plan.

Lucien: After you appeared, every expression and every movement of yours was beyond my plan.

Lucien: I was left to follow my brain's instructions and impulsively disrupt my own rhythm.

His voice was very soft, but it landed heavily on my heart.

MC: Lucien, have you noticed that your frankness is becoming more and more frequent?

Lucien: Isn't that good?

I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a peck on the corner of his lips.

MC: In fact, I'm also very greedy.

MC: I like this frank and honest you, but I also like the wicked you. I like the occasionally distant you, but also like the rogue you.

MC: The way your bangs are scattered between your eyebrows, and the way your bangs are all slicked back. Familiar or unfamiliar.

MC: No matter what kind of you, I really like it all.

In a trance, I felt like I heard something blooming in my heart.

Lucien looked at me deeply, and after a moment of silence, he slightly raised the corners of his mouth.

Lucien: We might need to reschedule this ice sauna for another time.

MC: What a coincidence. I thought so too.

The afterglow of warm colors falls into the sea, creating a gentle luster on the pink-purple sky.

(from the afternoon at 3.30 pm until twilight…. can you guess how long were they stuck in that room-)

Lucien and I intertwined our fingers. We walked non-stop, started running as we walked, and ran all the way from the deck into the cabin.

The sea breeze blew our hair into a mess, and our clasped hands were seeping with warm heat, but we didn't care at all and still held hands.

It's like two people who have thrown away all shackles, just want to hold the hand of the person they like, and move freely to the same destination.

A huge crystal chandelier hangs above the lobby, refracting the light that looks like falling stardust.

There was a constant flow of tourists coming down the staircase and heading opposite us towards the deck.

I subconsciously looked back at the crowd going against us and felt my hand being squeezed.

Lucien: Do you want to check it out? I heard there's a celebration at sea tonight. There should be a fireworks show.

I shook my head.

MC: Fireworks are not as good as the person in front of me.

MC: I just need to look at you. As long as I look at you, there will be fireworks in my heart.

Lucien: Compared with MC's frankness, my performance can only be said to be unsatisfactory.

Lucien: I would like to ask my teacher to give me more advice, preferably by giving me a small lesson.

His eyes are bent, but he looks humble and sincerely asks for advice.

The sound of melodious music gradually plays and enveloped the whole hall.

The sentimental melody evokes my memory. It was the song that Lucien and I danced with in the bar yesterday.

I looked at Lucien and found that his gaze was already waiting for me.

His tie was loosely tied around his chest, and his collar was slightly open. His clear eyes were particularly bright between the hair that had scattered when we ran.

I couldn't help but laugh and raised my hand to ruffle his scattered bangs.

MC: Mr. Lucien is not as refined as Doctor.X now.

Lucien: Then can I ask you to dance?

MC: You should know very well that there is something else I want to do right now more than dance.

Lucien: And that's precisely why it is more necessary to "warm up" properly.

With that, he took my hand and led me through the dance steps

As the music flowed, we gave each other our warmth against the flow of people.

His familiar body heat seemed to bring me a new experience this time, and I felt Lucien guiding me closer in the gentle beat, stretching my body in a natural and lingering way.

Lucien: Do you know the name of the dance we did last night?

MC: Isn't it ballroom dancing? I don't really know much about dance.

Lucien: It is known as Rumba, the dance of love. It's one kind of Latin dance.

His fingertips entwined seductively around the ribbon of my skirt, gently pushing me away and pulling me back the moment the next note leaped out.

The melody gradually surged and accelerated. The air was filled with a scorching breath.

Lucien: Scientific studies have shown that the waist can be twisted up to 180 times per dance, and the highest heart rate can reach 200 beats per minute.

As he spoke, he led me to rotate and walk with his rhythm, pushing me out and pulling me back according to the inertia of the strength in his hand.

Slowly moving, swaying, spinning…

My heartbeat involuntarily accelerated, as if it had been incorporated into the rhythm of the tempo, rising and falling one after another.

Boom-

There was a sound of fireworks exploding in the distance, and the cruise ship seemed to shake for a moment amidst the crowd's cheers.

I staggered and stumbled into Lucien's chest, my hands haphazardly pulling his already loose tie, causing his slightly open shirt to spread open completely.

A reassuring hand was placed on the back of my neck, holding me steadily in place.

I couldn't help but be captured by the charming bareness in front of me. His muscle tightened and then relaxed following our rhythm.

Like a vague provocative tease.

As if falling into his silent trap, my fingers were drawn to caress his bare skin, feeling the hard, clear lines beneath it.

My fingertips were tinged by the burning heat, and I slowly traced from the hard abdomen to his chest.

A steady, strong heartbeat rose up, and even my heart trembled along with it.

Lucien: I think this dance should be impressive enough now.

MC: How can you still hold a grudge?

He didn't say a word. He just strongly swept me up and dropped a feathery kiss on my forehead.

My whole heart surged like a wave, and I felt inexplicably dizzy.

Everything was spinning. Only his close face was clear, effortlessly occupying all of my vision.

We danced our way from the hall to the room.

My vision was suddenly dimmed, but a brighter light broke through the sky and blossomed in the night with a warm color.

The pouring fireworks dragged a long trajectory, depicting a star curtain.

I eagerly kicked off the shoes on my feet and stepped on the ground with bare feet.

Suddenly, a warm sensation replaces the cold floor and settles beneath my foot.

Seeing myself stepping on Lucien's instep, I raised my head in a daze and met his smiling eyes.

Without words, we just looked at each other. I smiled knowingly and then stepped gently on the other foot.

MC: I always seem to fall into Professor Lucien's trap unconsciously.

Lucien: Rather than saying it was a trap, it was better to say it was a silent and open invitation.

He took a step to the right, and I took a step away with it.

Lucien: Besides constantly creating freshness in life, I always want more.

Lucien: I want our experiences to be exciting enough for them to be engraved into your memory.

Lucien: (whisper) And what I want, only you can give me.

MC: I'll give it all to you without reservation.

The night is long and lit up with fireworks.

In that moment, we seem to meld into one.

[T/N: Those fireworks in the end aren't actual fireworks if you get what I mean- But anyway, what a great MQ :" D. I genuinely enjoy it from start to finish. This one has made me cry, laugh, and h-word at the same time asksks. The game between these two is always enjoyable to read lol.

There's no big sad here, but if you think about it, the whole plan is caused by his insecurity,, the way he overthinks stuff that MC said to him, worrying if things related to him will feel boring to her, and ends up devising a whole plan to bring more 'excitement' to their life. The memory silhouette hits you with the fact that although this person seems calm and indifferent, he also suffers as much as her when they're separated. Guess it's a good thing that although his plan got wrecked, at least they did find excitement in this date huh-

I am currently translating Top Up SSR, which I think complements this SP MQ that covers the same 'theme'. So, I hope y'all will look forward to it? Thank you for reading!]

#me the whole date: just get a room you two #AND THEY DID #is this even allowed #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc translation #mlqc #mr love lucien #love and producer #mr. love queen's choice

[writermask-0807]

“winter’s eve,” or: “and the cold of your embrace.” gojo satoru x reader

Warnings: wrote this in a weird mood and a banging headache, so that's probably why it sounds so shitty lmao (😭) there’s also some stuff that doesn’t add up so there's that. angst with no happy ending (dont come for me yall), implied cheating, swearing (like one f bomb lol), also the title literally has nothing related to the fic in itself (except maybe one paragraph 😭). uhh that's all, I think, but lmk if I missed anything!!!

he comes home late, your satoru. late enough that it’s early, actually, with the pale rim of the sun trying to push weakly through the bruise-colored clouds purpling the night sky - late enough that you think he’s not coming, like most other nights. 

but when he comes stumbling in, staggering off to the side as he giggles, drunk, with pink in his cheeks either from the cold or the booze, you think it might’ve been better if he didn’t come home at all. and it sounds cruel, doesn’t it? knowing why satoru, your satoru, who can’t really be called yours anymore, (from a god to a worshipper, did you really think that he would love you like he actually, truly meant it?) is like this. why things are like this, really, but it’s getting harder to bear, these days. 

and as tears fills your eyes when your mouth parts open to speak, you wonder when it’s changed to bearing, and not loving satoru. “where were you?” you ask him, and it’s a broken, whispered thing, no longer being shouted with explosive anger, wrapped in vicious hurt and dripping venom. 

it comes out resigned. tired. you’re tired, and maybe he sees it, for once; (and you want to scoff at the irony of it all — because even with his all-seeing six eyes, satoru has always been blind to you. or maybe he chooses to slide a rose-tinted film over them, and honestly, at this point, you don’t know which one is worse-) maybe he sees the harsh shadows in your eyes and the halo of dark circles, the bitten lips and the messy hair. maybe he sees that he’s the root of all this, because he stops. 

there’s a pause - a sobering quiet, and you think he knows what’s coming. there’s something in the air, something cold and stinging, something tight enough that when you finally breathe his name, it feels like a thread snapping, something falling apart at the seams — like blood oozing through the stitches of a wound, scabbed over and over and never quite healing. a beat too late, you realize that that something is really you and satoru. you and me, he said. we. us.

there is no us, satoru. there was never an “us” and that fucking hurts.

and now it’s all gone, snowed over by satoru and his frost-cold eyes and his freezing voice and his icicle-sharp words, cutting so deep that you’re afraid you can’t dig them out, especially with your winter-numbed fingers. in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming. 

and he must see it too, now, because satoru is a man called god - mighty and powerful and all-seeing - and he truly plays the part. and so he smiles, wide and nonchalant like he doesn’t know this is ripping you apart. like he doesn’t know that this is the end. like he doesn’t even care, and you hate him for it. 

“oh, you know. out.” 

he says lazily, throwing his shades off as he stumbles his way towards you, arms wide open, grinning all the while. you flinch as he steps into the moonlight, reaching out for you, those cruel, cruel eyes holding the stormy brilliance of the skies, glimmering in the weak light — and you think that cuts through the fuzz, the haziness in his mind - sobers him up.

satoru stops, only a breath away from you, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the scent of another catching in his clothes and his hair and his skin, see that the smile has slipped off of his face, see the shimmer of his cold eyes, the gaping emptiness in them - a void, that, no matter how much you give of yourself to him, that can never be filled. 

“you’re leaving.” he breathes quietly, soft. broken.

you remain silent, tears clouding your eyes, spilling over your cheeks like a dam burst. because you’d expected yelling, screaming and even cursing, or the cold indifference that satoru has always used to freeze you out, and this - this vulnerability hurts so much more. you wish he would just - just - 

a trembling hand comes to cup your cheek, cradles your jaw, lifts your eyes to meet his, full of melted ice, desperate and searching for something, anything to hold onto, but it’s been ten long, painful years of breaking and fixing, hurting and healing until you’re so scarred over that there’s nothing else left to wound, and by god - you’re so, so tired.

you bring a shaky hand to cup his, curled around your face, tears trembling on your lashes, unable to bear that look of heartbreak in those damned crystalline eyes of his. did he see this, too? 

“i love you. i love you so, so much, don’t you know that?” he murmurs, voice catching, forehead knocking against yours, and you stifle a sob behind gritted teeth. because you know. of course you do; it’s why you’re here now. it’s why you’ve always been here for so long. 

“i know, satoru. i know, but this love of yours is only killing me.” you tell him in a broken whisper, and you feel his grip tighten, feel him shake against you. 

“don’t say that. don’t say that. please…” satoru never begs. he never has had the need to, but now - now he wonders if anything would have changed if he had. he would have fallen at your feet, begged you with all that he had and meant it with his entire chest, baring the tender heart inside for the entire world to see. but it’s too late.

he’s always too late.

“please…” he murmurs against your mouth, lips brushing against yours in one last desperate attempt - and it’s helpless and bitter and wet from the salt of your tears — yours or his, maybe. you don’t know anymore. 

he kisses you and you kiss him back just as hard and wanting, fingers curling into the moon-bright mess of his hair as you tug him down, nails digging into his back and his mouth crushed against yours and it’s desperate and rough and messy, and it feels like the last time and the first time in a long time but this is it. 

this is the end. 

and when he finally pulls back, panting and breathless, you think he knows it too. 

“i’m sorry, satoru.” 

you tell him, and even without the tears in your eyes, and the waver in your voice and the ache in your chest, he knows you’d mean it all the same. you’ve never been as selfish as him, even now, even when it’s your right to be. you could never be as cruel as him. and maybe that’s why this is goodbye. 

and so gojo satoru is selfless for once. he doesn’t chase after the warmth of your mouth when you press your lips to his one last time, a parting gift - a lingering curse. he doesn’t have it in him to look up even when he feels you glance at him one last time, your eyes tired and mournful and full of tears. 

and worst of all, he doesn’t hear the faint “i love you,” that lingers long after you leave, silent to his ears, the door to his house left open, but his home long gone.

FIN-

#gojo satoru x reader #reader x gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #angst #angst with no happy ending #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #reader x satoru #reader x jujutsu kaisen #tw: implied cheating #gojo satoru x reader angst #ngl i feel pretty shitty abt this but ended up uploading it anyway #so #thats prolly why it sounds so weird #😭 #writermaskspeaks #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #reader x gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader angst

[yeoldehetalian]

Insight: Germany's Christmas hug is warm

[I do not normally write fic but for some reason I felt compelled to write a little GerIta fluff. Yes, the title is just a variation of one of Italy's lines from the early comics that I found hilarious.]

Germany awoke slowly. The room was still quite dark – it must be the wee hours of the morning.  As he gradually came back to himself, he wondered what had roused him.  No loud noises could be heard, nor was his brother shaking him awake.  Maybe one of the dogs needs to be let outside?  He rolled over and squinted into the darkness.  Someone is here!  He quickly snapped on his bedside lamp...

“Italy?!”

“Oh, Germany, you woke up.”

Italy appeared to be caught in the middle of taking off his coat.  And, Germany may have been sleep-addled, but he thought something sounded off about Italy’s voice.

“Yes, thanks to you.  What are you doing here, Italy?”

“Well.  Um.  I was lonely.  So I decided to come here and see you, Germany.”  Yes, his voice was definitely off.  It had wavered a bit.  Was he ill?

“You have your brother.  Didn’t you celebrate Christmas Eve together since he’s your family?”

“Well, we did for a bit.  But then he went to Spain’s place.  He won’t let Spain come to our place.  Then I was alone.” 

Italy had finished taking his coat off but stood awkwardly holding it.

Oh, Italy…He’s so friendly and gregarious.  To think of him of all people being alone at Christmas...are those tear streaks on his cheeks?

“Can I stay here, Germany?  I thought since you were asleep I would sleep, too, and then maybe I could stay for Christmas and we could have a fun day!” 

“I can’t speak for the others, but I do not think anyone will mind.”  Indeed, everyone seems to love Italy wherever he goes.  “Yes, I’m sure it will be acceptable.  You can put your coat on the chair there, and come lie down.”

Italy draped his coat over the chair, and then began peeling off his clothes.  Of course, I should have known he would climb in here naked, as usual.  Mercifully, Italy left his underwear on.

“By the way, it is very cold here, Germany.  Even inside.  Doesn’t your heater work?”

“We have had unusually cold weather this week.  And the heat is turned down at night to save energy.”

Germany held up the blankets for Italy, and even scooted over a bit to offer him the warm place where he had been lying.  Italy climbed in, curling on his side facing Germany.  Germany laid right next to him, wrapping an arm around him.

“Germany!”

“Hmm?”

“You never want to cuddle.”

“Well.  You looked cold.  And, you said you were lonely.  So, I suppose…it is like a Christmas gift from me, then.”

“Thank you for the nice present.”  Italy snuggled closer.  His skin was indeed cool to the touch.  Germany extricated his other arm and wrapped it around him as well.  He knew he was blushing, but no one could see, so perhaps it was not worth worrying over, just this once.

 “You can always come here for Christmas if you like, Italy.”

“Thank you, Germany.  Will you give me a present like this next time, too.”

“If you like.  I think I could manage that.”

“Yes, please!  Your Christmas present is so warm and cozy.”

Morning would bring another day full of activity and responsibilities – another large meal to prepare, then hijinks are bound to ensue when Prussia and Austria are in the same vicinity, not to mention the likelihood of Hungary stopping by to add to the chaotic atmosphere – just thinking about it was making him tense up a bit.  But for now, Germany decided to just try to relax and enjoy the moment.  He appreciated that, right now, what he was needed for wasn’t based on his nation’s status, or diplomatic ties to other nations, or even his own immutable “useful” personality traits.  It was simply a friend needing comfort from a friend.  Now that he thought of it, this seemed to be what Italy truly liked him for.  Which was a bit astonishing – surely many others were better at being a “friend” than he was. But for whatever reason, the mysterious Italy had chosen him. 

“Merry Christmas, Germany,” Italy said, barely a whisper as he was drifting off to sleep.

“Good night, Italy.  And happy Christmas.” 

Germany slept.

#aph germany #aph italy #gerita #christmas fluff #hws germany #hws italy #hetalia

[iheartgracie]

redarthur quotes

“Arthur was standing just behind Oliver and Reyna, now shooting a closed-mouth smile as he caught Red’s eye.”

“Arthur had sat with her the whole time, calmly directing her, as though he could tell when she was zoning in and out, or when she was panicking about the size of the RV and how small everything looked from up here.”

“Red liked his glasses, standing out against his tan skin and curly dark brown hair. She wondered whether she needed glasses; faraway things seem to have gotten farther and fuzzier lately. Another thing to add to the to-worry list, because she couldn’t do anything about it. Yet. Arthur caught her looking, smiling as he ran a finger over the light stubble on his chin.”

“What’s up?” she said. “Deathly allergic to cheese puffs?”

“No, thankfully,” Arthur said, feeling his way as he sat down on the sofa bed.”

“Red turned back to Arthur. “Well, good thing you’re not spending a whole week in this cramped RV. Oh…wait.” Red smiled at him.

“I know, right.”

“Red guessed Arthur didn’t much like his friends at his own school, because he’d been coming to all their parties and hangouts since senior year began. And that was okay, because she liked having him around. He always asked how she was and how was her day, even though Red usually answered with lies or exaggerated stories with only faint traces of the truth. He showed interest when Red wasn’t interesting at all. And there was that time he dropped her home after that New Year’s Eve party and let her sit in his car, warming up in the dry air of the heater before she had to go inside the cold house and find whatever mess her dad had left for her. Arthur didn’t know that was happening, he thought they were just talking, talking the night away at two in the morning outside her house. A small kindness he never knew he’d given her. She should give him one back.”

“Well, if you did it, why haven’t you checked it off?” Arthur said, pointing to the small empty box on the see-through flesh of her hand. “Here.” He stood up, grabbing one of Maddy’s pens from the table that she’d used in an earlier game of Hangman. He uncapped it and leaned toward Red, pressing the felt-tip end against her skin. Gently, he drew two lines: a check mark in the little box. “There you go,” he said, standing back to admire his handiwork.

Red looked at her hand. And it felt stupid to admit it to herself, but the sight of that little check mark did change something in her. Small, minuscule, a tiny firework bursting in her head, but it felt good. It always felt good, checking off those boxes. She held out her hand proudly for Maddy to examine and got the nod of approval she was looking for. Arthur was still watching her, a look in his eyes, a different one that Red couldn’t decipher.”

“Red wasn’t any help, was she? Standing here looking at the moon.

“It’s big tonight,” Arthur said, following her eyes to the sky.”

“Must say, exploding the tire with your mind was a slightly drastic measure.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “Desperate times,” he said.

“What do you think it could have been, really?”

He shrugged. “Probably a sharp rock or glass, like Oliver said.” And was Red imagining it, or did his voice sometimes soften for her? No, he was just nice to everybody.”

“At least it’s only raw tomatoes,” Red said, “so you can still eat pizza.”

“What is she talking about?” Oliver said, almost there with the final nut.

“Oh, my allergy.” Arthur smiled, somehow staying with her. That was rare. Red lost most people at least a few times a day, sometimes a few times per conversation. “I know, not sure life would be worth it without pizza. I’d just have to have a perma-rash.”

“Hey, grow a beard and no one would know,” she said. It would probably look good on him too.”

“Need to get yourself an outside job, then,” she said. “Dog-walker?”

Arthur shook the expression out of his face, recovering as he turned to her.

“Farmer?” he countered.

“Nature conservationist?” she said.

“Ooh, nice.”

Red had another one: “Axe-murderer?” she said.

“I hear that’s taken.”

“And Arthur was crouched here, next to her.

“I tried to get you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Last chances to smile, to laugh, to tell Arthur she liked him and it was okay that he didn’t like her back because she was unlikable at times, she knew that”

“Red watched the dark shape of Arthur struggle with his, fiddling with the front of his jeans. Close enough to reach out and touch. To hold hands, even, if they didn’t need both hands for this plan.”

“So,” he said, nodding his head back the way she’d just come. “Using a mirror to reflect one of us to bait a shot,” he summarized, again, better than Red ever could. “That’s smart,” he added.

“The Lavoys are very smart,” Red said.

“Want to know a secret?” Arthur said, his voice dipping into whispers, eyes flashing from behind his glasses. “I think you’re smarter.”

“I think you’re lying,” Arthur retorted, knocking away at it.

She looked up at him, that same drunk-warm feeling behind her eyes. Why was he so kind to her? And why did that make her want to be un-kinder back? Because she didn’t deserve it, that was why. She was just Red. Just Red and Just Arthur, and they should probably just stay that way, because she didn’t know how to be somebody’s someone.

“That’s okay,” Arthur said, like he could read the thoughts racing behind her eyes. But he couldn’t, he didn’t know what lived back there, in her head. “Your secret is safe with me. It always is.”

“I don’t have secrets.” She hid behind a smile again. Oh, stop it, grinning like an idiot.

“International spy?” Arthur asked.

“I wish.”

“Your real name is Agatha?”

“Only if yours is Edgar.”

“Secret frog-racing champion?”

“You got me,” she said.

“Nice.”

“She stepped down, the shirts bundled in her arms. They smelled clean, and yet somehow they still smelled like him. The same as the hoodie he’d let her borrow after New Year’s Eve when he dropped her home. She’d slept in it that night, under her coat, and in the morning it only smelled like her. Arthur had never asked for it back. Maybe he was used to losing things too.”

“Red reached, stretching out her fingers, each one too aware of itself and of what she was making them do. She rested her hand on Arthur’s head just for a moment, near the back of his neck. Mom used to do that to her when she was upset, and Red didn’t even realize until right now that she missed it. She shouldn’t think of her, why did she keep thinking of her tonight?

Arthur glanced up, her hand sliding off. He caught it in one of his waiting hands, squeezed, his fingers warm against the cool of her knuckles.”

“Red?” Arthur’s voice interrupted the thought; he was standing behind her. She straightened up and turned.

His eyes were drawn and sad behind his glasses, lashes long and downcast.

He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyes to meet hers and then raised one hand.

There, on the back of his hand, written in that same black felt-tip pen against his tan skin, were the words: YOU OK?

Beside them were two options. YES with a square checkbox drawn next to it, riding up one knuckle. And below that, NO, with an empty box.

Arthur gave her the pen, pressing it into her hand, fingers warm against hers as they lingered there. Something passed between their eyes. Red held up the pen, uncapped it. She was always fine, when people asked. Of course she was fine, thanks, yes, she and Dad were doing just great, thank you. Fine, okay, fine. An elaborate lie squeezed into those two tiny words, the greatest gifts to a liar like her. No one asked for more detail if you were fine. But Arthur, he was really asking, she could tell. And so Red really answered.”

“Something touched her floating hand, in the darkness of the backs of her eyelids, the yellow glow of the overhead lights fighting through. Skin, fingers, intertwining through hers. Red opened her eyes, blinking in the new light, and there was Arthur. ”

“Arms around her waist again, locking on.

“I’ve got you, Red,” Arthur said in her ear, hoisting her to her feet, dragging her back up the steps, her body pressed against his.”

“Arthur drew Red’s head back, brushing the wayward hair out of her eyes, and the dirt and the grit.

“You’re okay.” His words against the back of her head, warm and spreading. One hand against her forehead. “You’re okay.”

“You okay?” Arthur asked her.

“You don’t care,” she replied.

He looked hurt by that, a flicker by his mouth.”

“Red staggered sideways, one leg buckling beneath her. Someone caught her.

Arthur.

His hands under her elbows, keeping her on her feet. He looked her in the eyes, blinking slowly, twin tears chasing down his face.

“Red,” he said, low, soft, almost too soft to cut through the air in this RV. “Look at me.”

She was looking at him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

“What?” Red sniffed.

“It’s not your fault your mom died.”

“Arthur stroked his hand down the back of her hair, to the ends of her ponytail.”

“I’m sorry for every hurt I caused you. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to protect you. I’m sorry I never got to tell you. I’m sorry I never kissed you.”

#redarthur #redarthur quotes #redarthurquotes #hollyjackson #holly jackson #five survive red #five survive #five survive quotes #five survive book #book quotes

[dungeons-and-dictions]

We LOVE a mysterious lady while waiting for Hazbin Hotel’s marvelous first season to wrap up. Let’s talk about Lilith and Eve!

There’s so many ways this could go. Applause to Vivienne and Co. for making this fun with what I am sure are ample red herrings. I hope those involved in the show are having great chuckles as we feverishly wonder what is really going on.

First, some groundwork so that we’re on the same page. I’m nearly certain Sera is not the highest up in Heaven, whether in order or entity. This may be the common “God sleeps, knows all, and refuses to be involved”, which is always a fun, good move for narratives. Orrrrr, it might be some of my theories.

And on the subject of narratives, we should acknowledge that Charlie is telling her parents’ perspective of the beginning of Earth. It may not be the whole story, people may be figurative or portrayed inaccurately, and things may have been omitted.

Now then, my 6 theories!

Theory 1 - Eve is just a regular woman, and no one cares about her after death. High probability that Adam had a lot to do with that.

Theory 2/3 - Eve is God / Eve is the true evil

Let me tell you some ancient religion things. Nothing in this world is isolated. In ancient Judaism, there are references to Asherah, a Canaanite mother goddess and wife to the big god El, particularly as an object of devotion in the form of a tree. Makes sense that the Judeo-Christian God would have a wife if Lucifer does.

Anywho, whether or not this is the inspiration, I wonder if the imagery used in the first scene of the show is meant to hint at the origins, or roots, of evil in the world being an actual enemy. Whatever twist would happen with Eve (or Lilith!) finally appearing, I would expect it to be BIG like this, and the symbolism adds up.

Theory 4 - Eve is Lilith

During the opening sequence, Eve about to eat the apple takes on very similar features to Lilith’s silhouette just seconds later.

This theory goes with the understanding that Eve never existed, or also ran away from Adam but became inconsequential. We never see Eve or Adam as humans again in this sequence, so for all we know this works. Eve could definitely just be symbolic.

Theory 5 - Eve and Lilith are Allies

They are working together on… something. Whatever Lilith and Alastor are connected with, for sure. Perhaps these ladies are triple agents and are infiltrating their respective realms quietly while plotting some sort of takeover or revamp. Perhaps there is a bigger evil / God himself that they are trying to steal power from?

Theory 6 - Lilith became Eve 7 Years Ago

Something happened where Eve was hurt, usurped, or otherwise incapacitated, and Lilith stepped in to prevent a power vacuum. Obviously this can work well off of Theory 5, but it works as an enemy simply taking advantage, too.

BONUS Theory 7 - Lilith and Lucifer are Allies

Once again, they’re working together on something nefarious. Eve may be the baddie (or goodie) or not even matter, whilst our royal Hell couple has supposedly split up to give the idea they aren’t in communication, and that Lucifer is a non-threat.

I am so glad that we have 2 seasons from the start! There’s so many other thoughts and so much in this show, that at least 2 seasons is definitely needed. To the season finale!

#analysis #hazbin hotel essay #Hazbin hotel #lilith #Eve #Hazbin Lilith #Hazbin Eve #do we have unreliable narrators? #who’s the big bad we haven’t seen yet? #all this and more on Thursday