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spacedace · 2 months

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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valacirya · 3 months

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In all the long years of his life, Elrond had never once resented his mother. He had grieved for her. He had raged at everyone who took her away from him. But he had never resented her. How could he, when his first memory was of her, illuminated by moonlight, singing an ancient Doriathrin lullaby? When his last memory of her was of her tearful but fierce eyes, looking at him like he was the hope of the world. Even in his darkest moments, Elrond never doubted his mother’s love for him.

Earendil was a different story. Earendil had left. To save the world, yes, but that hadn’t mattered to a six year old boy who had just wanted his father. Elrond could never truly forget the despair of those days. It had been simpler when Earendil was the Star of High Hope. Easier to name his daughter and foster son after him, to wear his sigil with pride.

Now though, in a house on the shores of Tol Eressea, Earendil isn't a legend. He’s just a man, with Elros's eyes and Elros's hands and Elros's smile. A man who left his sons… to save the world for them. "I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them."

The sun is setting below the glistening sea. Celebrian and his mother are engaged in a game of chess. Gil-galad and the twins are plotting some new mischief. There is a letter from Maglor on the table, waiting to be read.

Earendil is watching him with so much love and pride that he feels his heart break a little more. Enough is enough, he thinks. It is time to heal.

Elrond goes to him and says, “Teach me how to sail.”

The smile his father gives in return is brighter than the stars.

#ficlet #elrond #earendil #elwing #peredhel fam <3

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indiefilmfatale · 3 months

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watch you want me

gif by gil-rizzo ^ plot: you want to watch steve get his rocks up without touching him at all content warnings: graphic language, masturbation, voyeurism (reader watches ooh), dirty talk, all the good things word count: a/n: had a visceral dream about this and could not stop thinking about it all day send smutty steve asks pleeeease!

“You don’t wanna, like, touch me or anything? You just want to watch?”

You bite your lip, almost too horny to be embarrassed. “Yeah. I think it’d be hot.”

It’s mid-morning. A rare moment where both of your schedules result on a day off for the two of you, but you were basking in it. Laying in bed all morning, falling in and out and back into sleep, adjusting into different cuddling positions until you finally decided to wake up. And even when you did, you just spent the time talking and laughing with your head resting on his bare chest. Eventually the conversation drifted into bored fantasies, drawing your finger over his chest and twirling the small hairs ever-so-softly. “Well are you at least gonna touch yourself?” Steve’s eyes dot down your body for just a second. You’re wearing a white tank top and a pair of his boxers that hug your curves perfectly. It’s his favorite outfit on you.

“Mm-mm,” You hum as you shake your head, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

Steve sighs, “Okay, I mean, it couldn’t hurt, right?”

You chuckle at his awkwardness, then peel yourself off of him to rest your head in your hand, elbow propped up on the pillow next to him. He adjusts his stature, relaxing himself into place.

“Do- Do I just,” He waves his hand around, as if he’s never jerked off before. You grip his wrist and guide it down under the sheets, where his bare cock rests flaccid. He often slept naked, swears by its comfortability but given how many times you two have fucked in the morning, you assumed it was for accessibility reasons. Less fabric to get out of the way.

When you see him grip himself, you let go, arm resting on your side. He starts slow, just sort of rubbing himself until he’s half hard. You grow impatient, gripping his wrist again until his hand rests below your chin.

Your eyes stare back at him as he watches you drop a wad of spit into his palm. He’s instantly erect, licking his lips and clenching his thighs. “That’s all the help you’re getting from me, Harrington.” You say as you wipe your lip.

He swallows, lowering his hand once more. The new slick of his fingers does wonders, moving his hand up and down his cock with a steady pace. “What’re you thinking about?” You casually bring the hem of his bed sheet down to his mid-thighs, giving yourself the full view of his strokes.

“Mm, your tits.” He’s already panting.

You anchor your fingers around the neckline of your tank top, lowering the shirt so just enough cleavage protrudes. “Oh, you mean these?” You lightly rub one of your nipples through the fabric.

“Mm hm, yeah.” He’s so incoherent, which makes you only want to get more words out of him. You want to know what dirty thoughts find their way into his brain when he’s at his most vulnerable.

“What would you do with them? If you could touch me…”

“Put them in my mouth, your perfect fucking tits. I’d— I’d suck on your nipple, put my hands all over you. Fuck.” His strokes are a little faster now. You can see a spurt of pre-cum drip down his cock, and you have to hold back your own hunger to suck on the mushroom tip until it turns red. You can practically taste him.

“What if I fucked you with them, hm?” Your voice has gone soft and seductive. “Put your fat cock between my tits and let you fuck them until you came all over my face?”

“Yea…” He whispers, eyes darting between your own eyes and the nipple that you’re pinching between your fingers. These lovely hums keep coming from his throat.

“Will you come for me, Steve? Will you let me watch you cum over that perfect torso of yours?” Your fulling massaging your tits now, feeling a warmth in your core that aches to be filled for him.

“I wanna cum for you so bad, fuck.” His strokes are even faster. “Are you wet?”

“God, I’m soaking, Harrington. I want you to fuck me so bad.” You can’t help but bring your hand down to where his boxers meet your vulva, pushing against the fabric until you feel the cotton against your clit. You lean forward, your lips against his ear. You can see his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps, breathing shallow and desperate.

“Imagine how it feels to fuck me, Steve. Imagine my cunt is squeezing and throbbing against your cock as you fuck me into oblivion. Legs shaking around your hips, cumming and cumming and cumming as you keep fucking me. Whining and moaning into your ear.” You lick his lobe, and he grunts sweetly as his brows curve upward in pleasure.

Your speech blurs into moans, almost pornographically spelling it out for him as if he’s fucking you right now. “Mm, you feel so good inside, Stevie. Fuck, it hurts. Cumming over and over again as you pump your big fucking cock inside of me. But don’t stop, baby, please don’t stop. I wanna cry over how good your cock feels, mm-hm,”

His mouth is agape, eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm approaches. “I-I’m gonna cum, oh god, I’m cumming.” His voice reaches an octave only reserved in these visceral moments of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna see you cum.” You whisper one last time. He groans as his cock spills cum down his hand and onto his happy trail. His shoulders tense and twitch, his neck tense with veins protruding. “God, fuck…” He moans, keeping his hand tight around the tip until the last drip gushes out.

You rub his chest firmly, a proud smile plastered onto your face as his body relaxes next to you. “That was so good, Stevie.”

He sighs, hand falling onto his hip and head tilting lazily toward you. Your nipples are still hard under your shirt. “Can we do you now?”

#re: unproofed #guys i need him so bad #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

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ur student council is so good it lives rent free in my mind!!!!! what’s a day in the life of darling like I wonder?

I'm glad you love it so much! 🖤🖤🖤

Day in The Life with the Yandere Student Council | Part 1

When you wake up from a late night of studying

it feels like you weight your eyelids as you splash water on your face

Continuing your routine you get pretty far before you hear a knock on your single-bed dorm suite (a gift from the Student Council President)

“Hiya (Y/n) I figured I’d join you two on your walk to class, today! Happened to have a bit of extra time on my hands!”

“You just said you skipped that entire club’s morning activities for this.”

“Tomato Potato. You should know not to keep flapping that hole of yours. Especially since you’re not all that secretive, Spencer.”

“Roman.”

Spencer the Vice President of the council has become a fast friend of yours

Being as privy to the more sinister and malicious intentions of other students specifically the ones obsessed with the council

And Roman the Sergeant of Arms and arguably the most popular next to the president

A newer guest but you won’t complain because he gives you some breakfast fruit

“Uh thanks for walking me you guys and thanks for the fruit.”

“It’s cool it is our usual routine.”

“No problem, Babe! Next time you should just tell me what you’d want for breakfast I’ll make sure to keep it in the meeting room!”

It isn’t long before Roman is called over by some other students

Blowing a kiss before disappearing in the crowd

“Phew I thought he’d never leave! He’s such an extrovert I never expected he’d ever walk with us.”

“Well I’m sure being an extrovert doesn’t mean you forget all your friends. Don’t be so harsh.”

“You’ve only known him for so long. Just you wait he’ll turn into the annoying people magnet he is.”

Spencer drops you off at class

Hanging nearby until the class begins

He begrudgingly waves bye to you signing that he’ll see you for council work later

And for the next to classes things aren’t too bad

Other than a droning lecture there’s nothing that happens that you aren’t expecting

It’s in your third class that will change

“Sweet Pea have lunch with us!”

“I made you lunch this time.”

It’s June the Historian and his boyfriend, Gill the Secretary

entering the class without any concern for the professor

Of course no one said anything only watching as your protests are ignored by the duo

June will keep whining

And Gil will only respond with excitement about what he’s made

So you’ll sigh and pack your things hearing the class resume as you step out

“So? How’d that project turn out? I know you were working on it for a long time after we got off the phone.”

“I think it turned out pretty good. I’m hoping I can finally get some feedback.”

“You know they are required to give you an ‘A’ right? We made sure they did not have the option to do otherwise.”

“...I just want to try to be deserving of it...at least a little.”

“That’s so cute (Y/n)! Isn’t that cute Gill they think they need to try!”

“It is very cute.”

Begin your impromptu lunch perfectly catered to your preferences that you never shared

“Alright guys i really should go back the next class I have—”

“Will be waived, if your busy doing student council work! Come on hun, help us with our work. I promise it’ll be fun!”

“Then afterwards we can walk home together.”

“Home? Who’s home?”

“Oh Gilly that’s a great idea! We can make it a sleepover!”

“Guys!?”

Of course outnumbered and overpowered+ you end up in the student council room where you’ll happen upon Min Su the Treasurer and the illusive President Lucoa

Part 2: Is Here

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leletha-jann · 3 months

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Headcanon on reasonable evidence, actually: Every Heterodyne gets their own specific pack of Jägermonster guards.

Yes, the Jägermonsters are all sworn to the family in general, but Heterodynes do unreasonable and dangerous things on absolutely no notice, and it's helpful to have a specific set of personal guards who know them as individuals well enough to respond immediately. (Of course, Jägers think this sounds like fun.)

Agatha having Dimo, Maxim, and Oggie on more or less permanent assignment to her isn't unusual; it's normal. They know this, and have encouraged her to fall into a pattern they were expecting, actually, and she didn't take any steering at all. On some instinctive level she was expecting it too. Even if Dimo keeps his promotion to General, he'll be a General on the move, from wherever Agatha happens to be. They'll be with her for the rest of her life.

Consorts get their own squads, too. At some point in the future, Gil and Tarvek both acquire a handful of their own personal Jägers, sottle-like. (They notice it happen anyway.)

Jorgi is absolutely one of Tarvek's squad, because there's no way he wasn't designed to be Tarvek's personal guard Jäger, and it will be hilarious.

I'd also love to see Agatha assign Jenka to him, because Tarvek's recently on record as missing his personal spy network, and he and Jenka would have that up and running in no time flat. They'd have fun. (Jenka doesn't hold "being Andronicus Valois' descendent" against him, because Tarvek's loyalties are firmly with Agatha, and they share a "to hell with that family in particular" attitude.) Also, it would be a neat little parallel with Tarvek giving Violetta to Agatha. Agatha could give him a sneaky lady who can kick his ass (and will if when needed) right back. For maximum humor, Füst should take to Tarvek exactly the same way the wasp eaters did.

(this, but with JAGER BEAR)

I don't know if Gil ends up with Vole as one of his pack, because I don't know where the Foglios are going with him. But I nominate this guy from book one:

And this guy from book 14:

to follow Gil around and be reassuring to him periodically.

Higgs has sort of ended up as immediate supervision of the entire triumvirate. Whichever of them is in reach, or all three of them at once. Insert Higgs looking really deadpan tired here. This face. Forever.

Jägers get EXTREMELY excited when they learn a new baby Heterodyne is on the way, and start campaigning to be on the baby's personal guard squad immediately. Of course, being Jägers, there's a lot of biting involved. I imagine months of Jägers challenging each other, not just to fights, because they did all that already, but to increasingly ridiculous and pointless challenges that they're both making up on the spot and obsessively keeping track of. The only real rule is that if you challenge someone to something, you have to do it too (otherwise how will you know who won?) They challenge each other one on one, or everyone in sight. This leads to things like most of the Jägerhorde running a screaming, pushing, biting, brawling egg-and-spoon race down the longest street in Mechanicsburg. The townsfolk line up to watch and cheer. (They're considered a course hazard, so they get to throw things.) Whoever's currently winning (don't ask me how that points math works) when the baby is born gets assigned to the baby.

Bill and Barry both had their own Jäger squads and never knew it, because their guards weren't allowed anywhere near them. Theodora was pretty much out there with a shotgun if she heard even the hint of a Jägermonster accent. Those Jägers still resent it. They feel robbed of their (most recent) chance to be trusted favorites. They might get special-pleading rights in the next tournament-to-guard-the-new-baby, assuming their brothers aren't completely fed up with their whining about it by now.

Klaus Barry had his own guards, but Bill didn't know because the Jägers were barely even allowed in the Castle by that point, so they just didn't tell him. Master of Mechanicsburg or not, the Jägers didn't trust him not to send them away even further (and rightly so).

Nobody volunteered to guard Lucrezia. Bill didn't understand the insult in that, and the townspeople didn't tell him. But every single one of them NOTICED. Ho yez.

There are only so many Jägermonsters, so by this point everyone who's still alive has been in a personal guard squad at least once. Collectively, the Jägermonsters know all the gossip, going back centuries. They'll never tell. If pressed, they suddenly lose the ability to remember last week, much less 1528. They can't be bribed, not even with alcohol, although they encourage people to try.

Canon: Jenka was in Euphrosnia's personal guard.

Seen elsewhere on Tumblr but I forgot to reblog it: Vole was one of Saturnus' pack, which is why he tried to kill Bill and Barry. Saturnus had tried, after all, and Vole was most loyal to Saturnus in particular. (If this was your theory, let me know! Credit to you.)

TL;DR: Jägers running an egg-and-spoon race through Mechanicsburg. There. Now you have the highlight of this post.

Also: ä is alt-132 (using the keypad). NOW YOU KNOW. (hopefully I also now know, because this is like the fifth time I've tried to memorize that)

#girl genius #worldbuilding #headcanon #jagermonsters #long post #but with pictures #heterodynes

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 6 months

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Beauty & the Beast's Christmas

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors. Not proofread.

Gilbert von Obsidian's story (JP) from the last collection event.

~ I'd love to give you a Christmas gift, and yet ~

On Christmas night, everything outside the window was covered in pure white snow.

Gilbert: “Here, this is my Christmas gift for you.”

Suddenly, Gilbert hugged me from behind and attached a brooch to the neckline of my dress.

Gilbert: “I tried to make it with you in mind.”

Emma: “Wow, thank you! It’s so cute.”

The brooch, depicting a baby rabbit with colorful gems, was delicately crafted and beautiful.

Although I should have been happy about it, I’m currently preoccupied with something else.

(I haven’t prepared a gift for him. What should I do?)

Gilbert: “Hm? Why the long face? Aren’t you happy?”

Emma: “I’m happy! But I haven’t prepared anything for you.”

Gilbert: “Oh, so you were worried about that after all.”

Emma: “It’s not like that. I wanted to go shopping, but you forbade me from going out.”

Gilbert: “I can’t let you go to a crowded city right before Christmas.”

Gilbert: “Unless you don’t mind me being jealous.”

(He’s saying things like that again.)

(It feels unfair that he’s the only one giving a gift.)

Emma: “I also wanted to give you a gift since Christmas only comes once a year.”

(Is there anything I can at least prepare?)

(I’ve already made a Christmas cake, but it doesn’t feel special enough to call it a gift.)

Emma: “I got it! Gil, I’m going back to my room to write a letter.”

(I get the feeling that he's the kind of person who treasures even old letters.)

(I'm sure he'll accept it.)

Gilbert's red eyes lit up with happiness all of a sudden.

Gilbert: "You're going to write me a letter?"

Emma: "Yes! I'll write it quickly and bring it to you."

Gilbert: "What are you talking about? You can write it here."

Emma: "What? Write it here now?"

Gilbert: "Yes, right here, right now."

(It's way too embarrassing to write a letter in front of the person you're sending it to!)

He smiled and quickly prepared a piece of paper and a quill.

(He closed off any escape route in an instant!)

Reluctantly sitting in front of the desk, I gripped the quill, and he stood close behind me.

Emma: "Um, it's hard to write with you staring at me like that."

Gilbert: "It's okay. Just pretend I'm not here and write."

Emma: "It's not that easy..."

Despite my protest, it was clear that he wouldn't listen, so I mustered the courage to write.

("Dear Gilbert...")

Gilbert: "Isn't it supposed to be 'To my beloved Gilbert'?"

(Ugh...)

With every sentence I wrote, he interjected with advice or suggestions.

Gilbert: "Hey, what's wrong? Your pen stopped."

Gilbert: "How about writing more about the things you love about me or using words of love?"

(That's impossible. It's too embarrassing!)

Emma: "Doing that in front of you is just too much!"

Gilbert: "Oh, little rabbit is so shy. Should I make it less embarrassing for you?"

Emma: "Are you going to move away from me?"

I turned my head in anticipation, only to have my lips captured in a sudden kiss.

His tongue stirred my mouth passionately, igniting a warm sensation throughout my body.

Gilbert: "See? Now, it's not embarrassing anymore. But your hand has stopped, so hurry up and write."

Emma: "I really can't do this!"

(I’m even more embarrassed than I was earlier!)

Gilbert: “You’re going to give me a present, right? I’m really looking forward to it, so do your best.”

Emma: “If that’s the case, please don’t tease me.”

Gilbert: “Ahaha! Ordering me around, huh? Emma, you’re quite fearless.”

He laughed and slowly bit my earlobe, causing me to squirm.

Then he opened the collar of my dress and bit my shoulder.

Emma: “Gil, writing it down is pretty difficult, so I’m just gonna say it in words.”

Gilbert: “No. I like letters. So, come on, write until the end.”

Gilbert: “While you write the letter, I’ll tell you words of love.”

Gilbert: “Fufu. I love how even when you’re in a bind and at a loss, you still won’t let go of the pen.”

Emma: “You’re so unfair.”

(No matter how many words I write, Gilbert always manages to surpass them.)

(But I can’t lose. Right now, I want to convey all the overflowing love in my heart to him.)

I continued to express my feelings for my beloved in a letter while accepting the unstoppable sweet evil.

➟ Ikepri Translation Masterlist

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #cybird

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teafiend · 1 year

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thelightsandtheroses · 2 months

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seven: me and the devil, walking side by side

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Chapter summary: an unwelcome visitor brings everything to a head Chapter warnings: Reader is a single parent to a teenager, mentions of breakups, discussions of cults/religious movements and violence within these, threat of a gun, tension, lightly implied panic attack/anxiety, 18+ blog mdni, Notes: Chapter title i

s from Me and the Devil, originally by Gil-Scott Heron but I have both this and the Soap&Skin version on my playlist for this fic. Thanks for all of your patience with this chapter. It’s a big one! Word Count: 5.4k

Previous | Series | Next

You’ve been through breakups before. It’s nothing new. Usually you like to be the one to leave before you can be left. That takes out some of the salt in the wound.

Your separation from Joel hurts though. It physically hurts.

Your chest aches, your eyes sting, you miss him. Every small detail brings Joel to you; a flannel shirt, the soap everyone in Jackson.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve distanced yourself from a good man - and aren’t those rare to find?- or the impending fear of The Junction. Perhaps it’s both.

On the moments that Joel is not haunting you, your past is.

Beau once asked you whether you were sure that breaking up with Joel was a good idea, if it would perhaps be better to bring him on side. That’s Beau; a survivor, pragmatic to his core.

You can’t quite find the words to voice what it would have meant to you to tell Joel. You still feel complicit somehow in everything that Ethan did, you realised too late, you didn’t stop him. There’s too much shame ingrained in your body for you to tell Joel.

The pain of the breakup feels like a suitable punishment.

“Anything?” you ask Beau as you sip your tea in the kitchen.

Beau shakes his head wearily. “No sign on anyone yet.” He pauses. “If I had to say anything though, it’s almost too …. clean. There’s no sign of anyone, sweetheart, anyone or anything.”

“They’re cleaning their tracks?”

“Probably.”

“Shit. We should leave.”

“We’re better off here than out there,” Beau replies calmly, “‘sides, we can’t just haul Gabe off in the middle of the night now. He’ll ask questions.” There’s an unspoken question - will you ever tell your son the truth?

“I hate this.”

“Me too. We’re going to get through this though.”

“Are we?”

“Of course.”

“Who were you patrolling with?” you ask, eager to change the subject.

Beau shifts uncomfortably. “Just -”

“Joel?”

He nods. ‘Did he notice the clean-up?“

“Things like that don’t get past him. He’s … aware of techniques like that.” probably for the same reasons as Beau. Their chequered histories made them survivors and in some strange kept people they love safe - Ellie for Joel, Sean and you for Beau. “We both commented on it. Joel doesn’t know about the junction though, he’ll assume it’s more like raiders. He wants to raise it in the town meeting tonight - I think he’d mention it sooner if it was more than just a theory. Maybe that can work to our advantage though.”

“How?”

“Well, if he says to Maria then she’ll probably put a stop to traders for a bit. That might protect us a little longer if Jackson’s more closed. It’ll give us time to decide on what we’re doing.” Beau smiles at you. “You and Sean, you’re not alone in this. You, Gabriel, Sean and me … we’re sticking together.”

You nod, sniffing loudly. You won’t cry, you won’t.

“There’s a trader in,” Esther says casually, smiling as you look up from your books.

It’s probably nothing, it’s probably just one of the usual traders who passes through Jackson, but that doesn’t explain why your blood is turning cold and your palms are sweaty.

“A trader? One of our usuals?”

“No, no, never seen him before.”

“Oh, really?” you ask, schooling your expression as much as you can. “What does he look like?”

“Not as good looking as Joel Miller, how you let a man like that go, I will never know.” Esther sighs and you remember that when Joel first came to town, Tommy had been trying to match the two of them. It hadn’t lasted long. You’d asked Joel about it once but he’d been polite, a southern gentleman to a tee so you knew even if there was a story, it wasn’t one you’d hear any time soon.

“Well, I’m sure he’d be heartened to hear your support on that. So, the trader?”

“I don’t know, he had dark hair and he - he had presence, a slight limp though.”

“A limp?”

“Uh huh. Shame really, and some burns but other than that …. he seemed real friendly, had a Victorian doll for trade too, might have some things for your boy. I heard a rumour about coffee.”

You walk past Esther, barely letting her complete her sentences before you’re heading out of the library.

Beau’s on the way to the hall. He’s in the stables and you can see him chatting with Ellie as you approach them.

“Hey Beau, Hi Ellie,” you say, walking in and smiling broadly. You think it’s a normal, false smile but by Beau’s expression, and Ellie’s, you’ve failed miserably. “Beau, there’s a trader at the community hall, want to go check it out?”

Beau looks at you and you hope he’s noticed how you said trader, how you all but winked and raised an eyebrow at the gesture.

“Oh, really?”

“We were talking about trading some of our old stuff soon, right? From back when?”

He definitely understands now. “Of course. Ellie, it was real nice talkin’ to you.”

Before you can leave, Ellie grabs you arm. “Wait, can you just wait a moment?”

No, you think, but it’s Ellie and you’ve already let her down so many times recently, that you nod. “Catch up in a moment, Beau?”

“Okay. I’ll be outside.” If you know, he’ll probably be working on a plan, just in case. He’ll be looking for signs of more of them. You and Sean told him about Ethan’s strategies, about his plans if that first gated community failed.

Ellie looks worried, her arms are folded around herself and it reminds you she’s still just a child, only fifteen. Younger than your own son.

“How are you doing, Ellie?”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, over the whole arm thing and the accident. I know it made you and Joel argue and then - and then you broke up. I know it’s-”

“Ellie, it was nothing to do with that,” you say vehemently, “Nothing at all about you. I promise.”

“Then why? I thought you liked him?”

“I did.” You do.

“I’ll never understand any of this,” Ellie laments, shaking her head. “Why not just - why’d you come into our lives just to do this then?”

You would have preferred it if she hit you. “I never wanted to hurt you, or Joel. I promise that. I’m - I have to go, Ellie, but I - we can talk more.”

“‘S no point. Unless, is there?” Ellie looks up hopefully.

You shake your head, digging your hands into your pockets. “Take care, Ellie.”

You have to get to the hall, you have to hope your fears are unfounded.

You can’t feel your fingers.

You know.

There are fresh flowers on each table in the hall; it’s a simple gesture, one that intimates the security, the homeliness of Jackson. It’s a place where you can do that again, it’s about living not surviving.

It clashes with the raging survival instinct in you, the fear that your home isn’t as safe as you hoped. The knowledge that everything is about to come crashing down.

What if they’ve already infiltrated? What if there’s been a Junction spy reporting back for months? They would despise you for what you did. They would demand your blood. But what if he …

You look over at the crowd around the trader and begin moving forward with Beau, each step in sync, his presence an unspoken crutch.

You hope you’re wrong about this.

He is not who you remember. That is the first thing you think when you see him. His hair is longer now with his limp, thinning dark locks tied back in a scraggly ponytail. There are more lines on his face, a vicious burn on one hand and you know underneath his clothes will be the hidden scars you left him with - you missed the first time. The second time you hit his leg though.

His eyes widen with delight when he sees you walk into the building. “You,” he exclaims, “At long last, we meet again.”

In your imagination, this scene always was more obviously like a horror film. In your nightmares, you’d be bleeding, taken, surviving once more. The scene was always in some abandoned warehouse, cabin or barn too.

You watched too many movies growing up.

However, you could have never expected this moment would happen in Jackson’s community hall. You could never have expected there would be an audience either. People are still milling around, looking at his potential wares, going about their day like the world hasn’t just ended once more. You want to scream at them, you want to call the insanity of this situation out but your feet are rooted to the floor with thick tendrils of fear holding you in place.

You notice Joel and Tommy at one table. Joel’s eyes look confused as he seems to gauge your expression.

You can see Sean standing near Maria. Sean looks so uneasy; almost grey, and you cannot imagine how your friend is feeling right now, you know he suffered in his own way at The Junction. His face is calm though, he’s planning, waiting for the right moment. You recognise the way his hands are shoved into his jeans pocket though, the way his eyes move wildly around the room when he thinks no one is looking at him.

Your legs feel shaky but you refuse to lean against Beau, to show any weakness in this situation. This situation has been a long time coming.

It’s been seventeen years. You are not who you were then. You have been shaped by him and the Junction, that is true, but you’ve become your own person again. Each tragedy, each win, each memory has sculpted who you are at this moment, has trained you for this moment.

Beau whispers your name, gives you choices on how you play this. He’s on your side, that’s clear, that’s beyond question. Part of you wants to hand the situation over to him, to let Beau deal with it while you bury your head in the sand once again.

That’s not possible though.

You wonder if it’s only the four of you who are aware of the tension at this moment. It’s a secret that your neighbours and friends can’t see, that you never wanted them to see.

And Joel -

Everyone is in danger now.

“Hi honey,” Ethan says loudly with a smile, “It’s been a while. Why don’t you come on over and say hi to your husband now?”

His words have the desired effect; everyone stops, everyone stares, heads moving in a ripple of movement throughout the hall.

Next to Sean, Maria’s smile fades and her face hardens. You hear the hushed whispers around you as they realise Ethan is looking and talking to you.

It’s Joel you want to look at though. You feel drawn to him like Orpheus, knowing you can’t look and desperate to all at once. You remember how he was unable not to turn around in those Greek myths, how you’d argued in class it was foolish and inevitable all at once.

Is this you now? Are you the damned, foolish one? Is your failure, your doom, inevit

Seeing Ethan solidifies everything; Joel is the person you love, the man who loved you and you have lost him because of your secrets and past, in a foolhardy attempt to protect Gabriel.

Gabriel. He’s nowhere to be found as you look around you and you’re grateful for that. You can protect him for just a few more minutes.

Instead of your son, instead of Ethan, you finally allow yourself to glance at Joel. Joel’s face is pulled into a frown and he looks … hurt. You’ve hurt him once again.

You can imagine his thoughts right now - he’ll be wondering why he bothered to trust you, how you hid this from him and why.

“I -” you stutter words, your mouth opening and closing without making any sense. You exhale slowly. “How’s your leg?”

Sean bursts out laughing. It’s a strange, mangled giggle borne of surprise and worry that immediately stops as people look at him.

“So how’s that how we’re playing things, huh?”

“This isn’t a game, Ethan.”

“Isn’t everything you do a game?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t - you were married, you were married to him?” Tommy exclaims, looking at Joel and then you in the vain hope one of you will provide an answer. There’s an unspoken conversation between the two brothers, one clearly Tommy isn’t happy about. “Who is he?” Tommy says your name in a low voice, imploring you to confide in him.

“He shouldn’t be here, he needs to leave.”

“I need to leave?” Ethan asks, an unreadable expression on his face. “So you haven’t told them anything about who you really are then? They don’t know there’s a fox in the chicken coop?” He says your name, tutting with disappointment.

Whispers carry around you like leaves in the wind. You’re not sure what people are thinking right now. You’ve been too quiet, too secretive, it would be easy to wonder who you really are. In another world, maybe this is who would have been - his dutiful wife and spy.

You notice Maria saying something quietly to Tommy, how the two of them are subtly clearing the hall of bystanders. Joel is staring between you and Ethan with a blank face.

Do they think you’re a victim or the perpetrator in this scenario? You notice Beau take the smallest step forward, readying himself for something.

“I don’t think this conversation is serving our community right now,” Maria says flatly.

“Hey Joel,” you hear a familiar voice call. ”Has the trader got anything good? You better not have traded like half of everything you own for coffee again. I honestly don’t get the whole coffee thing anyway, it tastes like burnt- ” Ellie’s voice breaks off.

Your heart races as Ellie, Jesse and to your horror Sean walk into the community hall, completely oblivious to what’s happened but seemingly starting to realise that something is going on.

“Not now, Ellie,” Joel gruffly says.

“What’s uh -” Ellie breaks off.

Ethan is staring at Gabriel and your heart sinks. For sixteen years, you have convinced yourself that Gabriel doesn’t look like Ethan, that there’s no passing resemblance at all.

There is though.

You see it now and it feels like a glaring beacon, another lie come home to roost. A truth you couldn’t avoid forever. He’s yours, you know that, but together in the same room you can see the similarities.

“Mu-” Ethan begins warily, noticing the tension around the room. He looks alert, worried, ready to do whatever is necessary. That’s how it is in this world - you have drummed survival into him from an early age. It feels antithetical though, that the child you want to protect and nurture knows how to fight, how to endure this world you placed him into.

Sean immediately takes a step towards him, but Joel’s there first, a strange look in his eyes. “You need to go home, all of you. Now.”

“But -”

“No arguments, Ellie.” His tone is firm. To anyone else, they would think him a strict parent, a firm, resolute man who accepts no arguments. You can hear the worry though, the slight fear in his voice that Ellie is here. That you have endangered her. Endangered everyone.

“Ergh,” Ellie says but she holds her hands up and takes a step backwards exit with Jesse. She looks over at you and then Ethan and then Gabriel, a frown forming on her face and then she pauses.

“Well, isn’t today full of revelations,” Ethan says in a wonderstruck tone. “It’s curious. He really does look -”

“Oh fuck off.”

It’s enough though. Those few words and you realise Gabriel is putting things together. The betrayal and fury in his eyes eviscerates you.

You look at the ground, hearing the shudder of your breath. No. No.

“Holy shit,“ you hear Ellie mumble under her breath.

“Ellie!” Joel says, the desperation starting to become clearer.

How much does our -” Ethan continues.

“Ethan, shut the fuck up and just go,” Sean interrupts.

“You’ve got braver on the outside. It’s a shame you showed none of this in the Junction when -”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Maria says, her voice even and cool, “It’s time you head on out now though.”

Joel clasps Gabriel’s shoulder so he can’t pass, can’t get any closer to the chaos around you.

“Leave, huh? Well, I think that perhaps you’re mistaken. I didn’t just come here for my son after all.” Ethan sighs. “It’s been a hard winter.”

Joel tightens his grip on Gabriel’s shoulder. Beau and Tommy exchange a look.

You wish you had a weapon, had something to stop this.

You shouldn’t have missed the first time, you shouldn’t have aimed for his leg the second time either.

“So, how many settlements have you been through now?” Sean asks in a nonchalant tone. “I think after two or three, it really says more about -”

“The Junction goes where it is needed. I have heard it is needed here.”

“We don’t need the Junction here,” you say quietly. “No one needs that.”

“You’d rather be damned?”

“If the alternative is an eternity with you, with pleasure,” you say icily.

You hear a slight snort of laughter and turn to meet Joel. He’s still resting a hand on your son’s shoulder, but he’s looking at you. He nods, a subtle gesture anyone else might have missed but that fills you with relief.

You might get through this.,

“You got your fire back, I’d almost forgotten. Now, what was it you used to say when we discussed this. When we discussed what to do about reluctant participants, people who didn’t know they needed to be saved? You remember this is the nice way? It could have been very different after all, but I am here offering magnanimous absolution, even to you.”

“I don’t need your absolution. I don’t need anything from you but for you to go now. For you to leave this settlement, leave these people alone. That’s what all of them need, to be away from you.”

“You think it’s right that they’re here without the Junction’s Word, but maintain all these resources while your own-”

“Leave. While you can,” you say flatly.

“Do these people even know you?”

“You need to go, Ethan, now,” Sean says firmly. “We said we don’t need the Junction here. This can end amicably.”

“Amicably?”

“Yeah, no need for it not to, right? Democracy over depravity - that’s the Junction’s way, right? The old ways, the right ways as you used to call it.” Sean’s face twists into a tormented grimace at those words.

Beau scowls and you realise that while you’ve kept the Junction in a box for seventeen years, Sean hasn’t. He has told Beau, he has talked about it. It’s you who has been stuck.

“You dare speak of the ways when you -“

“Just go, now. Sean’s right,” you say firmly.

“Amicably, is that what he said?” Ethan asks, regarding you again with a scornful expression that turns your blood so cold, you’re amazed you’re not exhaling ice. “Amicably.”

“Ellie, all three of you, I am not playin’” you hear Joel say in a deadly tone.

The three teenagers make a move to leave, relief flooding your veins as you gratefully nod at Joel.

Gabriel is the last to leave, he hangs back until Joel nods at him firmly, but as he moves to the door - he’s almost gone, he’s almost safe - there’s a sound.

“Nope,” Ethan says coldly, “He stays.”

You look at Ethan, at the gun in his hand, pointed directly at you.

“Mum?” Gabriel asks, his voice shaky.

“I thought Eugene fucking searched the traders,” Joel yells at Tommy or Maria, or perhaps you or Beau. All you can see is the barrel.

You’ve always known how this is ends for you.

“You should leave now,” Joel says in a deadly tone. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or Ethan. You spin around, meeting his gaze desperately.

His hand on Gabriel is firm enough to stop him from either fleeing or running towards Ethan. You notice the way his muscles are slightly tensed, not too tight, but you make out his vein snaking down his arm.

You’ve mentally prepared for a dozen reactions to what is going on around you: disgust, hatred, pity, but you didn’t expect what meets you. Joel’s face is steely, poised to fight but a flash of fear passes his eyes when you connect with them. He is afraid for you, he is worried. There is no hatred, no disgust, nothing you expected.

He is not asking for you to leave. He is trying to protect you.

It’s like a lead balloon in your stomach. Maybe, maybe you could have said something all this time ago.

“Trust me, she’s not worth it,” Ethan says conversationally. “This settlement, my son? Now those are different stories.

“Are there others here?” you ask suddenly as you piece more of the day together. You can barely recognise your flat voice, the way you’re not entirely in your own body any more. You’re existing, and now you know that because you’ve finally been living and now you know what that is, you’ll lose it all*. “Did they help you keep the gun?”* Someone could be here from the Junction and you need them gone too.

Ethan pivots, takes a couple of steps forward and turns around the room, observing the rapt, frozen crowd around you both. It transports you instantly to dusty rooms, to a younger, more vibrant man you thought wanted to do something good in the world. It takes you back to a place you wanted to belong in, to a time you believed and hung off every single word he said.

“Others?”

“Yes, are they already here?”

“Why would -”

“I know your plays, I know them all.”

“Do you?”

You stare blankly at him, raise an eyebrow slightly. “No. I thought I did, but I didn’t. I thought you were someone else.”

“I am the voice of -”

“You’re a tyrant, a hypocrite and a snake oil salesman all wrapped up. You don’t speak a word of truth and you never have.”

“I’m the vessel, and so is my -”

“If you speak about my son, I will rip you apart so violently it will make the infected look tame.”

“You didn’t have these teeth before. What a pity. It would have been useful.”

“Go.”

“We’re past that.”

You realise he’s right. He’s in Jackson now, this ends one of two ways. Tommy and Joel, they can’t let him leave like this. You can recognise the desperation in his eyes, the hunger, the plans and strategies.

“You’re my wife. I am not going without you and my son.”

“We’re staying here.”

“No. I’m not,” Gabriel says, “Not with her.”

“Gabriel, shut up,” Sean snaps uncharacteristically. “Just leave it now.”

“My son ”

“You want to talk about the Junction? Let’s talk about it then. Gabriel, did you want to grow up in a place that would kill you if you -” You zone out as Sean continues, unable to fully bear the full truth of life in the Junction being exposed to the people around you.

You remember being hungry so much, the fear of breaking a new rule or tenet that your husband came up with. You remember how the inclusive, welcoming commune it was supposed to be shifted. How it became radicalised, against any sign of difference or subversion of what Ethan thought a person should be like. You remember the sexism, the way your voice began to become quieter and quieter.

You remember that Ethan scared you, that his move to the Vessel was antithetical with everything you knew about him. How his words, his dreams became literal, how he looked like he hated you by the end. You remember the violence of the Junction, you remember the lack of excuses.

In some ways, in many ways, it was worse than Kansas.

“Did I physically harm you? Did I not lead you to salvation, to the tenets of hope?” Ethan asks, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“The tenets? The ones that started off just close enough to normal and then suddenly you decreed that women couldn’t wear trousers because it affected the crops, or that if I spoke unless spoken to it would damn me, or that declared you the sudden voice of hope, or a - they never held hope, your rules. Not for anyone but you. You were dangerous, you are dangerous. You harmed us all without laying a finger, that was the beauty of your plan, right?”

“You never said a word to stop me from this though, did you? In fact, you -”

“I’m not finished, Ethan. You’re not a good person, Ethan, and I will never regret keeping my son from your dangerous, frankly nonsensical shit. That’s being a parent. So tell us who’s inside, who’s helping you and maybe we can figure a way out for you to leave.”

“You and I know they won’t let that happen. Do you remember the plan for then?” He laughs then. “I’m leaving and i’m leaving with my son. He’s the future of the Junction.”

“There is no way in hell that will ever happen.”

“He wants to. I can see it in his eyes.”

“No, Ethan, you know how this is going to end.”

Ethan sighs and nods. You exhale shakily and then look up as you hear the sound of the gun load. “Then I’ll take you with me to the eternal life instead.”

You don’t shut your eyes. You don’t look down. You will not cower for him.

You wanted to live. You’ve had more years than you expected. You wish you had more. It was always going to end this way though.

He will have to look at you. You will not make this easy for him.

“No, Mum -” your son’s voice is enough to make you waver, but perhaps, perhaps everyone else can keep him safe. If Ethan kills you, maybe they’ll protect him. It’s fine.

It’s fitting.

It was always going to be this way.

You wish you were outside though. perhaps by your bench and that quiet sanctuary you found. You want to hear birdsong, feel the sun on your skin one last time. You want to breathe in the fresh air and remember that.

Maybe they can scatter your ashes on the bench.

The bench bought you so much - peace on nightmare ridden nights, Joel, the difference between surviving and living. If it wouldn’t make Ethan happy, you’d tell Gabriel that now, or Sean. It’s too much for Gabriel.

Perhaps Joel knows. You hope he does. You hope he doesn’t.

You’re sorry. So sorry these people you love have to see this, have to mourn you. You should tell Gabriel you love him one more time, but you don’t want to burden him.

There’s a sudden crash, you feel yourself hit the floor and you finally allow yourself to shut your eyes as the gun goes off.

You expect to feel pain, to feel warm or cold, or something. Instead there’s nothing.

There are hands around you, pulling you away, words - Joel? Is she hurt? Did it get her? Words fade in and out. Something’s gone wrong. This doesn’t feel like death.

You open your eyes.

Ethan is on the floor and unconscious. Joel is shaking his fist and Beau squeezes your shoulders before heading over to a shaken looking Sean. Next to him, your son stares at the floor.

“So yeah, we used to be in a cult,” Sean says, running a hand over his hair and shaking his head.

You hear an almost laugh, a polite but awkward acknowledgement, from maybe Tommy or Beau, but you’re still glued to the floor, still reeling from this day.

You feel eyes on you and look up to meet your son’s gaze. Gabriel looks at you as though he has never seen you before, through you in fact, and immediately runs out of the room.

“Wait, Gabriel.” You make a move to go after him, to explain. If you can just talk to him, then maybe it will be enough. You shouldn’t have avoided this, you should have told him this.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got him,” Sean says, moving quickly.

“Where do we put him?” you ask flatly, staring at the unconscious form in front of you.

“The jail,” Maria says quietly. “The jail, Joel.”

“Guess we’ll finally use it,” Tommy replies.

“He can’t stay,” Joel says. “Tommy, he’ll -”

“I know, brother, I know.” Tommy looks down and then at Maria whose lips are pursed.

“He tried us,” Maria says, “We have to do what we have to do.”

“I’ll handle it,” Joel says calmly, authoritatively. He isn’t looking at you and you feel ashamed of what you have bought into his life. Blood, anger, pain. He’s bought you peace and calm and love and this is how you repay him?

“Me too,” Beau replies calmly, examining his nails in a pseudo casual pose. “It won’t be a problem at all.”

The two of them each grab one of Ethan’s unconscious arms, dragging him outside and towards the bank. Beau nods at you on his exit.

They’ve left you. Sean and Gabriel are outside somewhere, Joel and Beau are gone and while Tommy and Maria are here, they are not your people.

You feel empty and numb. You brace the edge of the table and fight back the racking, great gasps of breath as shock courses through your body. You’ve been fighting tears, fighting back the fear and emotion of the past weeks.

It wasn’t just this moment, it wasn’t just today. It was the anticipation, the fear, the secrets that have lasted seventeen years.

“You need to let Gabriel, Sean and Beau stay,” you say, “I know you won’t want me here and I’ll go. I’ll go, but please let me see them from time to time. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry because I bought them here with my secrets and I’m sorry, Maria, please, please know that -” You cough, a sob Breaking through. “Please don’t make them leave too.”

“We’re not making you leave, we still want you here,” Maria says in a gentle voice. She’s looking at you in the same way as someone would a startled deer, trapped in the headlights. “We need to understand more - if you’re right, if there’s anyone here, what we need to worry about it, what this - this group could do. You can help though. And you’re not leaving. This is your home, you didn’t do anything -”

You feel warm, soft hands around you, hear soothing sounds as you finally allow yourself a moment to feel.

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clavissionary-position · 1 month

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(Translation) Gilbert's Beast Manual His POV Story

The final installment in Gilbert's current party event.

Spoilers. I'm not a translator, I just throw stuff into online translators, so expect errors. Case 1 | Case 2 | Case 3 (I recommend you read these beforehand for the full experience.)

Please be aware that this installment contains some heavier emotional content as well as sexual content later on—MDNI. As a final note, I recommend you have read Gilbert's proposal event beforehand. Just in case. (Technically I'd also recommend you have read his physical exam event too, but not to the same degree.)

—

I couldn't tell the little rabbit the real reason I had her accompany me on official business.

I'd most certainly earn a scolding and remonstration if I did.

I felt like I wanted to be scolded at least once though, since the little rabbit was the only one who could truly rebuke the conquering beast. However...

"I want the little rabbit to be able to survive in Obsidian even if by some chance I were no longer here."

Those were not words I could simply tell her, because I knew just how devastating they would be for her.

(That being said, today's been worse than ever.)

Crimes of the older generations continuing to go unchecked, signs of rampant bribery within the military...

The little rabbit's beautiful eyes were exposed to so many of these things.

(What is it about this country that when one rotten thing disappears, three more take its place?)

(Maybe everyone's got a death-wish. Yet they still beg for their lives once they're weeded out.)

(...It's incomprehensible to me. If only they'd all just die to save me the trouble.)

Emma: Gil, are we done with official business for the day?

My darkening thoughts must have breached containment; as the little rabbit walked beside me she entwined her fingers with mine.

Her warm hand permeated the cruelty staining across my heart.

Gilbert: I don't have any plans, but is there anything you'd like to do?

Emma: Is it alright if I come to your room? I feel like your bookshelves are calling for me.

Gilbert: Of course it's alright.

(...You probably have a lot to think over.)

Her face only spelled out joy. There was no deceit to be found.

She didn't change her usual demeanor, not even when faced with an irritable beast.

(I've known Walter and Roderic for a long time and even they're prone to checking my complexion on days like this.)

Of course that certainly didn't mean she hadn't noticed a thing.

In fact, the little rabbit, with her keen insight into other people's emotions, should have already pinpointed mine.

[flashback to Case 1]

Gilbert: Anyhow... was it written on my face?

Emma: ...Yeah, it was.

Gilbert: Hehe, well that's no good.

Emma: Isn't that what I'm here for?

Emma: To help give you even a little peace of mind?

[end flashback]

(That's what you said this morning, right?)

(...Truly, you're so gallant for a baby rabbit.)

The little rabbit immediately leapt at the books once she arrived in my room.

Although she'd probably learned by now that concentrating on the books alone would make this troublesome beast very jealous.

So she picked out only one before walking over to the bed and sitting down beside that beast.

Gilbert: ...What's this? Political science?

Emma: I felt like doing some studying today.

(Oh, I see...)

(Someone with a truly pure heart doesn't get tainted after experiencing filth. But rather, they lament their own helplessness.)

(...That's just so like the old me.)

A young boy who'd once learned about corruption and then tried desperately to change the status quo.

And after he'd finished reading all the books available within the country, he'd asked a book dealer to regularly procure ones from other places so he could vigilantly instill the knowledge into himself.

That was back when I'd still foolishly believed that no matter how corrupt a person was, there was an alternative to killing them as long as you engaged with them sincerely.

(Things didn't work out so nicely in the real world though.)

(...But I want the little rabbit to stay like this, just as she is.)

Gilbert: [smiling as he watches her read] ...

Emma: ...

Gilbert: ......

Emma: ......Gil.

The little rabbit looked up from her book, appearing as though she might cry.

Emma: Are there any easier political science books?

Gilbert: Ahaha... I knew it.

Gilbert: The book you're holding is so philosophical that even I found it difficult to understand.

Gilbert: Would you like me to recommend something aimed at beginners?

Emma: Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind!

Gilbert: And what should you do when begging me?

Without hesitation, the little rabbit placed her hands my shoulders and kissed my cheek.

Emma: ...Please, Gil.

Gilbert: It's boring if you do the same thing you always do.

Emma: Then how about...

When I sensed her trying to bite my ear, I pulled back.

Gilbert: Really now... So that's what you're gonna do.

Emma: Aren't you always biting my ear? It's a show of my affection.

Gilbert: But you're already aware though, of how sensitive my ears are?

Emma: ...

Gilbert: Oh, I almost forgot. I still have to discipline you.

Emma: ...W-what are you talking about?

Gilbert: Are you playing innocent? You still haven't made up for sneaking medicine into my food during lunch.

Emma: Um, I did make up for it!? Didn't you have your fun teasing me for it?

Gilbert: That was just a bit of playing around. You see, my real punishment—

I grabbed the little rabbit's hand as she tried to run and forced her onto the bed in a roll.

Just like that I gathered her wrists above her head and bound them with a nearby cloth.

(I hadn't really planned to do something like this...)

(But the little rabbit's been a bad girl, so I've got no choice.)

Emma: I was... going to study...

Gilbert: I'll have a beginner's book picked out for you by tomorrow.

Gilbert: Or rather, if you're interested, I can teach you myself? After all, training people is my forte.

I undid the collar of her dress and ran my fingers directly over her bare skin.

The little rabbit's cheeks turned as red as the sunset when I placed my hand over her breasts.

Emma: But don't you have things to do, Gil?

Gilbert: It's up to me how I choose to use my limited time.

Gilbert: You really don't have to be so overly anxious. If I can't manage, I'll say so.

(Although there's nothing that should be getting higher priority over the little rabbit's requests.)

The little rabbit started rubbing her legs together as I caressed her over and over again.

Purposely ignoring her mounting frustration was, of course, all part of the plan.

Emma: In that case... Thank you, Gil.

Gilbert: You've certainly got funny tastes to be saying thank you at a time like this.

Emma: That's not what I mean... mn... ah...

She suddenly let out a lewd cry when I lightly poked the hardened tip of her breast.

Emma: This afternoon, too, you...

Gilbert: I let you have your release right away this afternoon, didn't I? I wouldn't call that a punishment.

Emma: ...

Gilbert: It's no use being wistful either.

When I turned up the hem of her dress, I didn't even have to touch her to uncover the stain on her underwear.

Just a light swipe up the thin fabric and my fingertips came away damp.

Gilbert: Now then, you're going to have to suffer a lot.

Emma: ...At least... let me take my clothing off please.

Emma: I can't bear to... ruin the dress you made for me.

(Jeez, you truly are...)

Gilbert: I'm not listening to you.

Emma: Ah...

I thrust my fingers into her wetness as if I was trying to scrape out every last drop of nectar.

The dress pinned underneath her quickly became sullied.

Emma: Gil... mn...

Gilbert: If the dress gets dirty, you'll be just be reminded of something embarrassing whenever you put it on, won't you?

Gilbert: This is punishment, so you've got to resign yourself and accept it.

Emma: .......You're so mean.

Gilbert: And who exactly do you think I am?

(For the world's greatest villain to let you off with meanness and nothing else... that just means you're special.)

After the punishment, the little rabbit, thoroughly sullied, headed for the bath.

I honestly wanted to chase after her, but there was still work to be done today.

Roderic: Pardon me, sir.

Gilbert: I figured you'd come.

When I got to my office desk, Roderic immediately selected a document from the stack and handed it to me.

Roderic: ...I thought I might be turned away.

Gilbert: I'm in a good mood right now so I'll forgive you.

Roderic: That's surprising. I thought a storm would have been raging these past few days.

Gilbert: Ahaha, everyone has the little rabbit to thank for that.

Roderic: ...They can't thank her enough.

Gilbert: Neither can I.

I briefly glanced over the document before picking up my quill.

[I'm not gonna paste all the cutaways from the CG like I did in Case 3]

Gilbert: I see. So they've already completed their draft. Excellent, excellent.

Roderic: It seems experiencing your wrath this morning made them respond accordingly.

Gilbert: I'd like for them to submit the draft before it ever gets to that point next time.

Roderic: It's only because nobody can come up with out-of-the-box ideas like you.

Gilbert: They're all conclusions one can arrive at rationally. It's not like I'm making unreasonable demands of anyone.

(We're in trouble if they can't grow to the point where they can keep the older generations in check even without me.)

While talking, I read through the document and noted down points of concern.

Gilbert: ...Also, the draft was poorly-constructed. With this there's too gaps for us to drive that old man into a corner.

Roderic: Then I'll have it returned to you in such a way that we can.

Gilbert: I only appreciate haste. You help them too, Roderic. I'd like to have the contents finalized before our next regular meeting.

Gilbert: If we leave that old man unchecked, he may soon start a losing battle against neighboring countries.

(Up until now I'd left him to go and self-destruct on his own but... it was a promise to the little rabbit.)

Roderic: ...Understood, sir.

After completing my review, I handed it back to Roderic.

Gilbert: What's the next document?

Roderic: It's here, sir.

Gilbert: ...I know I keep asking, but is there more still?

Roderic: There's a mountain of things I'd like you to look over.

Gilbert: I thought I'd delegated my authority out.

(And it's not like they're even required to check in with me before proceeding.)

Roderic: This just means that Obsidian needs you.

Gilbert: That's certainly a problem.

Roderic: No, sir, it's not.

(I've got no intention of dying now that I've decided to live, but...)

(The everyday life that's persisted until today may not necessarily continue on tomorrow.)

(Because of the position I'm in, I have to assume the worst and act accordingly.)

Gilbert: ...[sigh] Unless we can get everyone past the idea that failure is some sort of capital crime, won't it be difficult for you and I to manage all this work on our own?

Gilbert: It seems like my presence is a hindrance after all.

Roderic: Please don't say that!

Gilbert: Fine, fine. If you don't like it, then go give out this PSA.

Gilbert: "As long as there's no fraud or corruption at work, I won't kill you over a simple failure. So please rely on your own judgement more."

Roderic: ...Very well, sir.

(Even so...)

I'd felt someone's passionate gaze trained on me even while we were talking.

The person in question may have believed they were well-hidden.

But I couldn't help but notice the hem of her negligee flickering from her hiding spot.

Roderic: ...Sir, let's deal with the rest of this tomorrow.

Roderic may have noticed as well since he was giving up on the rest of the documents.

Gilbert: Hey. You definitely didn't see anything, right?

Roderic: I saw nothing and I noticed nothing.

Gilbert: Is that so? That's fine, then. Thank you for your hard work.

(Narrowly escaped death, didn't you...?)

The door closed behind Roderic and I stretched out my arms as though to relax.

Gilbert: Now, then, little rabbit.

Emma: ...So you'd noticed me after all.

Gilbert: Well that's a given.

Once I beckoned, the little rabbit understood my request exactly and climbed onto my lap.

Gilbert: You were throwing Roderic such a passionate look.

Emma: I was looking at you!?

Gilbert: He was positioned in the same line of sight.

Gilbert: As you know, you have a very troublesome man on your hands. So you're aware of what you should do at a time like this, right...?

Emma: ......

The punishment from earlier seemed to have taken effect as the little rabbit kissed my lips instead of my ear.

I lightly bit her lip on her way out, imparting a bit of pain.

But rather than get angry, the little rabbit's eyes only seemed to soften with joy.

(Looks like I was able to soothe you after all.)

Emma: ...Did I interfere with your official duties?

Gilbert: [pouts] Roderic's the one who interfered. Showing up at this hour with documents for review.

Emma: That's probably because you were busy during the day.

Gilbert: [grins] Hehe... I showed you a lot of things I don't like about Obsidian today.

Emma: ...And I want to know about even more of those things from now on.

Emma: Because I'd like to be able to assist you as well.

Gilbert: Ahaha, that's reassuring.

(...Hm?)

The little rabbit had begun to frown as she spoke.

(Have I said something wrong?)

I hadn't the faintest idea what it could be, so I settled on comforting her for the time being by stroking her cheek, still warm from her bath.

Gilbert: You're pulling such a long face even though your words are so reassuring,

Emma: ...I wasn't lying.

Gilbert: I know that. So what's eating at you?

Emma: ...I can't really put it to words.

Emma: It's just... I'm envious of Roderic.

(......)

Emma: He's able to assist you more than me, and he knows everything...

(...So that's what was on your mind while you were eavesdropping.)

(The little rabbit is jealous of Roderic.)

(The sweet little rabbit of all people.)

Gilbert: Wow... I'll have to give Roderic a bonus.

There's no way I wouldn't be happy to be shown such love to the point of jealousy.

This was an event that completely overturned all the depressing stuff from today.

It was practically a miracle.

Emma: ...I get it now. So this is what you've been feeling all this time.

Emma: Hehe... What do I do? I'm really jealous here.

Jealousy was supposed to be a negative emotion by nature yet the little rabbit took it in as though it were a good thing.

I felt like she'd gotten a glimpse of how this beast dealt with his jealousy on a daily basis.

Gilbert: Serious jealousy is nothing like this though, you know?

Emma: Are you saying there's more to come?

Gilbert: Yeah. Your jealousy's in the early chapters.

Gilbert: The more and more you come to love me, the less you'll be able to contain that kind of adorable jealousy.

Emma: I'll work diligently then.

Gilbert: Hehe... I can't believe you've cheered up this much just from turning into a jealousy fiend.

(It's just like Roderich was saying. I definitely shouldn't have been able to show any kindness toward my surroundings these past few days)

And yet, what occupies my heart now at the end of the day is pure happiness.

(The reason I had Emma accompany me on official business was in preparation for a day that might possibly come...)

(At least that's what I'd thought, but perhaps in reality I'd only wanted to be healed.)

(...Nothing in this rotten world can change a thing about the beautiful world that Emma brings.)

(Maybe I'm just spoiled by the comfort in that.)

(...I may be a lot more dependent on Emma than I realize.)

When I laughed despite myself, Emma began to gently stroke my hair.

Gilbert: Taming the conquering beast is difficult, isn't it? But it might be easy for you.

Gilbert: Because I'm so madly in love with you.

(I'm sure I could cherish you endlessly.)

(That's why... I wish this daily life could go on forever.)

----------

Translation references: 無理矢理 1 | かと 1 2 | 感謝してもしきれません 1 | あなたなら 1

#ikemen prince #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri translation folder

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celiciaa · 6 months

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GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

MAKE ME FEEL ALIVE, HIS SIDE STORY.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warning: suggestive, violence.

MINORS DNI.

Birthdays always come every year as long as I’m alive, even if I don't want to.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Albert: Happy birthday, Gil.

Mother: I'm glad you were able to age properly this year. I feel like I'm about to cry.

━━

Aristocrat: Happy birthday, Lord Gilbert.

Aristocrat: I hope you liked the surprise party I prepared for you.

(Stop….)

━━

Albert: Look, I got that academic book you wanted.

Albert: It's really amazing how you can understand such a difficult book, you're a genius. // You're really amazing to understand such a difficult book, you're a genius.

Mother: I made some new clothes.

Mother: I'm sure you'll grow out of it soon, so please let me make you a new outfit for your birthday.

━━

Aristocrat: Of course, we also have prepared many presents.

Aristocrat: All of us present here would like to offer our heartfelt blessings to His Highness——

(…Stop.)

━━

Albert: I'm sure Gil will grow up to be a good man every time he celebrates his birthday.

Mother: Hehe, look forward to it. But the most important thing is for you to live.

Mother: Happy birthday to you many, many times, Gil.

━━

Aristocrat for embezzlement: Congratulations.

Aristocrat for theft: Congratulations, Lord Gilbert.

Aristocrat for murder: My sincerest congratulations, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: ——….Hehe, thank you. But I don't need that.

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Lord Gilbert?

Gilbert: I'm feeling sleepy today, so I'm heading back. Good night.

Gilbert: I'll see you on the execution site.

(Stop it…stop it, stop it.)

(I don't want those memories to be tarnished by the farce of those filthy aristocrats.)

━━

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Lord Gilbert, please forgive me!

Gilbert: Hm, what? You don't want to die in an instant?

Gilbert: If that's the case, I'll execute you myself. I'm not used to handling a sword yet….

Gilbert: I'm sure it will take a while, unlike the Emperor, but that's okay, right?

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Aa….aaAAAAAAHHH—!

Gilbert: Ahaha! What a shame. Everyone, take a good look.

Gilbert: This isn't someone else's business…yes?

(I don't need birthdays anymore.)

(It would be better for me to just disappear than be corrupted by those filthy aristocrats.)

(No one is allowed to celebrate my birthday.)

(Anyone who congratulates me will be killed without exception.)

(Roderich, Walter, all of them, without exception——)

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert: Hey, hey, little rabbit. Do you know my birthday is almost close?

——One day when the snow started to fall, those words fell out of my mouth instinctively.

Emma: Huh, when is it!?

Gilbert: One week later.

Emma: Why didn't you tell me earlier!

Emma: What should I do…is it possible to prepare the ingredients for the cake now….

Gilbert: ….

(Why did I say that?)

(I thought I decided long ago not to let anyone celebrate my birthday.)

Emma: Is something wrong?

Gilbert: No, it's nothing.

(But I'm sure you….)

(….You wouldn't lie to me, would you?)

━━

Roderich: ——That was surprising.

On the way back to my room after my regular checkup, I found myself alone with Roderich and mumbled something.

Gilbert: Because I told her about my birthday?

Roderich: Yes. Me and the doctor are planning to celebrate….

Gilbert: No, I won't allow it.

Roderich: As expected.

Gilbert: Hehe, I thought I'd give the little rabbit a special chance.

Gilbert: I don't know how many more birthdays I will have. I thought it would be better not to have any regrets.

Roderich: It can be as many times as you want. Whether it's 10 years or 100 years.

Gilbert: I'm not immortal.

Gilbert: But, well, maybe I'm getting carried away this year. // But, maybe I'm just too excited this year.

Gilbert: ….I used to look forward to my birthday a lot, you know?

Gilbert: I wonder what kind of presents she will give me, and what kind of delicious food she’s preparing for me…..

Gilbert: When I'm with the little rabbit, I sometimes remember those feelings I had when I was a human.

Roderich: ….

Roderich, who was right beside me, had stopped walking.

When I approached him, his face which was hidden behind the hood remained downcast, and did not rise to look me in the eye.

Gilbert: Eh, I was just kidding. What are you crying about? That’s disgusting…..

Roderich: ….Even the doctor had teary eyes after your checkup.

Roderich: He said it’s been a while since he heard about your birthday at the obsidian castle….

Roderich: Lord Gilbert celebrated other people's birthdays, but was not happy to celebrate his own.

Gilbert: Ahaha, how honest, aren’t you? I don't know if the little rabbit will celebrate, after all the threats I’ve made.

Roderich: I wouldn't call that a threat.

Gilbert: Then what?

Roderich: It's just your way of saying that you’re looking forward to your birthday.

━━

(——I wonder if I'm that easy to understand.)

Until the day of my birthday, the little rabbit must have been in deep distress.

Her hands were shaking with nervousness as she baked the cake, and her expression was worrying.

Still, she ended up making a birthday cake for me.

It seems that even after hearing that someone was sent to the execution stand, her intentions did not change.

(I think she got the message that I was expecting her.)

Emma: ….This is just my speculation….

Emma: Lord Gilbert—— Gil, I don't think you want to celebrate your birthday.

Emma: You hate lies.

Emma: Because it was supposed to be a special and important day, you couldn't allow yourself to be defiled by corruption and deception.

Emma: …..That's what I thought.

Gilbert: Hehe…as expected of the little rabbit, who loves me so much.

(You’re spot on.)

(Honestly, I didn't think you could see through it that much, but I guess you can see into my heart.)

(…You are completely different from the rotten aristocrats.)

Gilbert: Are you really going to congratulate me?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: I've killed many people so far, and I might kill many more in the future.

Gilbert: I’ve sent someone to the execution stand after I celebrated my birthday before, and I'll do it again if anyone like that shows up in the future, you know?

Emma: …..

(…How cruel of me.)

I am by no means doubting Emma’s beautiful heart.

But after so many years of dealing with corruption and deceit, I am paranoid as a matter of habit.

It was also for self-defense, not wanting to be disappointed because I wanted a heartfelt celebration.

Emma: ….I see.

After a long silence, the little rabbit nodded.

Emma: Even if you have made the whole world your enemy, I will congratulate you.

Emma: I'm already a bad woman, so it's too late for that.

Emma: Please don't underestimate my love for you.

(….)

(…You're crying.)

Her eyes are slightly moist with determination, but she looks forward with dignity.

It was more beautiful than the memory of a birthday I once had, and it burned strongly in my mind.

Gilbert: ….Hehe, sorry. I was bullying you too much.

(I just want to be celebrated by you, but I don't feel safe unless I do this.)

(I'm so sorry, little rabbit.)

I stand in front of Emma and use my fingers to scoop up her tears that are about to fall.

(But I finally found someone to celebrate with.)

(I thought that once I fell into the beast, I would never be a part of it again….)

(…I feel like it's a kind of blessing that a great villain who killed a lot of people shouldn't enjoy…)

As I secretly close my aching heart, without warning, Emma puts her hand on my cheek and kisses me lightly.

Gilbert: What?

Emma: …I can't give you a cake right now, so here's an alternative gift for you.

(Really….I wonder how bare my heart is in front of you.)

Gilbert: That's a poor gift.

Emma: How about this?

The little rabbit puts her arms around my neck and takes a deeper kiss than before.

(…For a moment, I wondered if it was okay to be so happy despite being a big villain——)

(Well, if I’m the big villain, it's just enough for me to snatch away all the happiness that little rabbit gives me.)

(I never thought about it before…)

(Wouldn't it be nice to receive a little reward for living in a dirty world?)

My wavering heart hardened and I bit the little rabbit's lip.

When she froze in surprise, the first thing I did was pry her lips open with my fingers.

Making sure her tongue was out and I bit it to the extent that it didn't hurt, I placed my hand on Emma’s leg as she leaned on the table.

(Come to think of it, the little rabbit is wearing the outfit I made for her today.)

(…I'm sorry that you've been dyed by me.)

When I lifted the hem of her black dress and forced my fingers deep inside her, Emma’s face contorted in pain.

Emma: Gil…it hurts….

Gilbert: Yeah, on purpose.

Emma: Why….

Gilbert: Because you don't like pain, do you, little rabbit?

When I plunged her deep into the pit of her stomach with my fingers, her expression immediately turned lewd.

Gilbert: See, you looked like you were feeling good.

Gilbert: By the way, we’re in the kitchen. Are you going to stop me?

(I'm sure the little rabbit would resist more.)

The wet squelching sounds and her moans became more visible the moment I added two more fingers.

Emma: ….Just…for today….

Emma: No matter what Gil wants…if he wants to do it here, I’d take it all….

Gilbert: Because it's my birthday?

When I asked, the little rabbit brought my head close to her soft chest.

Emma: I do not…lie.

Emma: So...you can try it until you feel safe, Gil.

Emma: My celebration is from the bottom of my heart…my sincerest congratulations…

Emma: I will keep telling Gil, no matter how much it hurts, until he believes in me.

Gilbert: …..

Gilbert: Oh, no. I guess I've been found out.

(I feel like I can't hide anything in front of you.)

Emma: Gil is probably a lot easier to understand than I think.

Gilbert: I think those words can only be said because you are facing me head-on.

Gilbert: …It's really a pity that a troublesome man likes you so much.

(As long as you understand my intentions and wish me a happy birthday, I'll be fine.)

(I don't think I'll be betrayed by you.)

I stroked the little rabbit’s weak spot as a reward and to her response, she was trembling in pleasure.

(Birthdays are coming back again this year.)

(…Yeah. Maybe it’s not so bad.)

━━

Despite being bullied by the beast, the little rabbit somehow manages to finish the birthday cake and feed it to me.

The first birthday in a long time was filled with the warmth and tender feelings that had once been so natural to me.

Gilbert: Hehe…your heart is still beating, isn't it?

Emma: I can…hear your heartbeat too, Gil.

At the end of the celebration, we lie down on the bed, skin to skin, as if it were natural.

As I listened to the sound of the heartbeats coming from our chests,

The little rabbit placed her hand on my back and I felt a slight pain.

(Ah—…. I guess it's a scratch from when I held you earlier.)

The little rabbit’s face turned apologetic the moment she noticed my expression.

Emma: …I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

Gilbert: I don’t mind. I like being hurt by you too.

Gilbert: You could have left bite marks as well as scratches.

When I run my fingers down her delicate arm, there are clear bite marks.

(Hehe, it must have hurt a lot. The little rabbit cried many times)

(You're crazy because you still love me.)

(….Well, I don't think any sane person could ever love me.)

Emma: It's hard to tell how much is too much or too little love Gil.

Gilbert: Then, let's learn it sometime soon. How about by next year's birthday?

Emma: I hope…you will let me celebrate again next year.

Gilbert: Who knows? It's up to you whether it’ll be your last or your first.

Gilbert: If you love me a lot, I might change my mind...okay?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: It’s just...my celebration this year wasn't unpleasant.

Gilbert: ….Thank you.

Emma: …..

(It's like I'm getting back one of my forgotten emotions.)

The more time I spend with the little rabbit, the more things I once let go of may gradually come back to me.

It is a frightening yet happy thing.

Emma: So…next time, how about we celebrate with Mr. Roderich and Mr. Walter?

Emma: I'm sure both of them really want to congratulate you, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: That’s not allowed.

(I'm sure those two want to celebrate my birthday….)

Gilbert: I don't need other people's congratulations. As long as I have yours, that's all that matters.

Gilbert: Because you're the only one I love.

When I said this clearly, the little rabbit looked embarrassed and shy.

(…You're so cute.)

Emma: Gil…I forgot to mention the most important thing.

Gilbert: Hm?

Emma: Happy birthday.

Emma: I'll give you lots of love…so please let me celebrate with you again next year.

(…So many reasons I can’t die like this.)

(I'm at a loss. But since it's a request from my beloved rabbit, I can't resist.)

Gilbert: Hehe, I understand. I'll let you celebrate as long as you are.

Gilbert: Keep loving the beast with your pure heart, just as you are…got it?

(So please. Don't you just disappear like those two.)

(As long as I'm alive, you have to make sure you celebrate my birthday every year…okay?)

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