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pocarinapyon · 1 year

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[Mild] Naughty Journal Sumeru Edition

Imagine having a journal dedicated for jotting down all [lewd] fantasies about that certain hot guy. But then one thing led to another and now mister certain hot guy learns of your indecent thoughts towards him. What happens next?

Contents include [Journal Entry Highlights] and [How they find out about your secret and their reaction].

Starring : Alhaitham, Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, Wanderer (Separate)

Tags / Warnings : 🌶 [Mild Chili] Suggestive themes; Stalking; Masturbating; Stray cuss words; (Me) fangirling over Alhaitham; A hint of drama / feeling insecure if you squint; Implication of human trafficking; Mentions of being affected by posion mushroom (please, do not carelessly approach, eat, or touch mushrooms unless confirmed they are safe); (Over exposure to) Aphrodisiac; Tighnari's scene 😳; etc.

I have no beta reader so...yes. Sorry if there are grammatical / spelling errors.

Also, most scenes are on or before version 3.3 because I have been slacking on my Archon Quest.

Future Plan : Chilis Naughty Journal Sumeru Edition; But first, I will finish the ones listed in Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

Links : Pinned Post, [Mild] Naughty Journal ft. Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya (Separate), [Chilis] Naughty Journal ft. Albedo, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya (Separate), [Mild + Chili] Naughty Journal Scaramouche Request, Teasers Maltesers (Jan 13)

Note : [W/N] means Wanderer's Name.

Target audience is female (bodied) reader.

To whoever is reading, please enjoy and look forward to [NSFW Ending] in the far future.

——————————————————

📚 ALHAITHAM

Journal Entry Highlights :

> In all honesty, the only reason why I am working hard as a scholar is not for the prestige or the Akademiya. 🙄

> Who cares if I graduated from the Akademiya?

> Now, I just want a good reason to interact with the scribe.

> Will I ever catch the full, undivided attention of our virile scribe? 🥺

> Archons look at those rock hard muscles 🤤🥩

> And down there, I bet he has a big juicy package. 🤤🌭

> HOW CAN YOU CALL THAT A SCHOLAR??!

> I've never taken a penis before but I sure as hell would not mind if Alhaitham breaks my mouth or pussy. 🥺🥵

> *based on observations and approximations, insert Alhaitham's length and girth when flaccid and when erected complete with an "as close as possible" drawing of his penis*

> *insert detailed fantasies of you and Alhaitham doing the deed and recording it using the Akasha... For future reference 👀*

> *insert calculations of how long Alhaitham would last in bed*

> *insert details of how you masturbate to Alhaitham*

> *insert fantasies of how Alhaitham masturbates and where his preferred spots are*

> Fuck, I want Alhaitham to breed me so bad! 🥵

> *insert something like Punnett Square here*

> *insert description of your offsprings based on calculation and data*

> I need to become a better scholar so I can be a worthy breeding material. ❤️

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Excuse me,” you modestly asked the group of students perched on a bench outside the Akademiya. "Have you seen a [favourite colour] journal with a dendro symbol engraved on its cover?"

"No. Did you lose your journal?" eyeing you from head to toe, one of the students asked curtly.

"Why would a researcher lose their journal? Only an unsystematic person who's incapable of passing the Akademiya would do that," another responded.

"I believe the correct question is: why would a researcher not use the Akasha? Don't tell me you don't know how to utilize it?" the last of the group mocked.

To this, the students laughed.

Of course. As expected from the people of the Akademiya. Most of them were a bunch of entitled pricks and this group - luckily - was one of them. Why did you even bother asking nicely?

Regardless if they were kind or not, you still had to act friendly. Why? Because it was an emergency. Your notebook full of Alhaitham smut was missing. Five days already passed and still the naughty journal was yet to be seen. You figured no one would take interest in a non-academic-looking journal but it seems you were wrong...hopefully. Archons, all you wanted was to have your notebook in your arms.

A defeated sigh escaped your lips. You were desperate to look for it and inquiring with people was your last resort. You never really had your hopes up but you figured it was worth a shot. Apparently, retracing your steps bore no fruit. Now, it didn't matter if a commoner or even the General Mahamatra found the item. As long as Alhaitham himself doesn't know, you were contented. Why?

Because he was a bookworm. The last time you were sure you were in possession of your debauchery-filled notebook was when you saw the scrivener and sneaked behind him to ogle at his build. When you arrived at your room to add a lewd entry, lo and behold the journal was gone. Imagine what if the scribe found it?

Agh! Whatever! Maybe the young man was right. Maybe you were unsystematic. Maybe your writing, like majority of your academic paper, was already in the trash. It made sense because you weren't from a family of scholars, anyway.

Exhausted, you shook your head, chose to tune out the discourteous remarks thrown at you and flee the scene.

"It seems you three are not in the know," a manly voice said.

That voice! You'd recognize that even if you were blindfolded! Of course you'd love to hear his voice anytime but you'd prefer it in a more expressive manner.

For example, hearing him grunt as he fucks you deep.

"The reason why Miss [your name] decided to instead utilize a hand-written journal is because of the sensitive data in her research. Its details are not yet in the Akasha and it is strictly not intended for audiences such as yourselves," Alhaitham reasoned. "Miss, did your assistant misplace your notes?"

OMG! OMG! Alhaitham - THE Alhaitham - was talking to you!

"Yes. It is as you said," you choked out, riding along his speculation.

Alhaitham was wrong about you having an assistant but he was right about the data being sensitive.

Anyway, the point was!

The point was! Alhaitham, your sexy academic stud, interacted with you! And he defended you against these pups!

However, proud people, when their exaggerated self-esteem is trampled upon, would retaliate.

"Not for audiences such as ourselves? Are you calling us less-learned?? You are just a scribe!" one of the students grouched.

"Dear, did you know that being a scribe requires a high level of education?" you calmly retorted, crossing your arms as elegantly as possible.

Keep cool! Keep cool! The toothsome scrivener was watching!

"What do you mean? A scribe only serves as a public secretary, nothing more!"

"A scribe, my dear, is a LEARNED person who indeed serves as a copyist, among other roles. Tell us then, how do you think can a scribe produce academically correct and non-ambiguous reports if he does not understand the data given to him?" you raised an eyebrow as you questioned the dumbfounded students. How dare they talk smack against your stud??

You could see it in their eyes. They wanted to argue back but they learned, based from the word definition in the Akasha, that you were right. They still had an insignificant probability to win the debate but you didn't want them to actually come up with a retort. Showing no mercy against pip-squeaks like these, your favourite trump card was-

"It seems you lack the vocabulary - something a student such as yourselves should expand. You are all from [Darshan], correct? Perhaps I should suggest to add linguistics courses to you all so you may enrich your knowledge."

Additional subjects to extend the academic years recommended by an alumnus. Who would want that, right?

"Ahem! N - no need," a student quickly replied.

The three students hurriedly gathered their belongings and scrambled to their feet.

"We didn't find any [favourite colour] notebook. Try somewhere else," they said before dashing away with their tails between their legs.

Alhaitham let out an amused chuckle. Knowing the scribe rarely showed any emotions, you wanted to see what kind of expression was he making. However, you were too embarrassed to look at your saviour.

"Ahem...," you noised. "Thank you."

With this, you finally had the courage to face Alhaitham. As usual, he had a serious look on his face - similar to a person who had not had coffee in the morning. In response to your gratitude, he simply nodded.

"You ought to be careful," the scribe spoke.

"Yes, you're right. Thank you," you responded rather too quickly as Alhaitham's next move drained the colors on your face.

It was as you feared. Alhaitham had your naughty journal - your oh-so-sinful diary. All you could do was freeze and stare at the object as he nonchalantly handed it to you. In your mind, you calculated the probability of the scribe reading your notes.

After a few seconds of what seemed to you like years, Alhaitham noised to catch your attention, his hands still in the air to return your item. You stuttered and shakily took the notebook from the man.

"T - Thank you...," you squeaked quietly, now red as a henna berry.

Around ninety-nine percent. That was how likely he read your notes.

"It would be troublesome if someone else found your journal. Luckily for you, it was an eremite. He did not understand its contents and nearly decided to hand it over to the nearest scholar around. But when he flipped the pages and saw a drawing of me, he deemed I was its best recipient."

So, the eremite did not see your lewd drawings? Or did he not understand you drew some penises?

"I applaud how detailed your entries are. Your thorough descriptions assists in picturing the narrated erotic scenes. Even the way how you and I masturbated were vividly represented."

"You've read it?!" you gasped in surprise.

You shrank. Obviously he read it. If he didn't, he would not know you wrote something about masturbating, right? You should have known a percent probability meant a trivial chance.

"Th - Then earlier, with those students...?"

"What I said was true, wasn't it? The information contained in that journal are all sensitive. I believe I also mentioned they are not suitable audiences to read these notes," Alhaitham responded plainly, as if the situation was not embarrassing at all. Well, for him it wasn't.

"W - wha...! B - But, when you said it is not in the Akasha terminal...?!" you stuttered again, spouting nonsense as your thoughts were occupied in recalling all the lewd entries you had written in your notebook.

"Another fact," Alhaitham simply replied before issuing a warning. "Although an Akasha terminal can be used to record events, I would advise against it."

He then proceeded to discuss why it was not ideal to utilize the Akasha in recording, especially pornographic scenes. Of course, you weren't a kid and you knew the dos and don'ts, yet the scribe reprimanded you as if you actually did a don't.

"I understand, thank you. It was just a fantasy, though," was all you could utter after the brief lecture, to which Alhaitham hummed in response.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he added.

The scribe pinned you against the wall while gazing into your eyes, making you squeal and feel your legs turn jelly. His intent stare was as if he was deciphering your very core. You squeezed your thighs and waited for his next words.

"You should correct your data. Compared to what you have declared, my penis is bigger, and my stamina and erection can last longer."

What??

You were stunned at Alhaitham's bold declaration, gawking as vulgar scenes flashed into your mind. Your pussy cried love juice and excitedly clenched at nothing. So he was bigger? If you two did the deed, would he fit?? And if he did, how long would he pound your poor untrained pussy???

Why would he reveal such things in the first place?!

As if pinning you wasn't enough for a tease, the scribe blessed you with a seductive smirk before whispering in your ear.

"I can provide you actual data if you wish."

----------

🐺 CYNO

Journal Entry Highlights :

> The General Mahamatra always look so serious

> I mean, his job must be so stressful, right? 😳

> He must have a lot of pent-up desires, right? 😳😳

> *insert fantasy wherein you suggest giving Cyno head to ease his tension*

> *insert fantasy wherein Cyno lets out his sexual frustrations on you*

> RAWR I BET HE'S GOING TO BE ROUGH 🥵😏

> *insert fantasy wherein Cyno fucks you all evening*

> "Heh... You're finally awake. I've already dumped a couple of loads into you. Your pussy is literally oozing out my cum."

> If Cyno would punish me, I hope it would be sexual torture 🥵😏

> *insert roleplay fantasy here wherein you are hunted down by Cyno and he uses you as a cum dump instead*

> Feel free to use my body, sir 🥵

> But in all seriousness, I hope he gets to relax, even for just a few minutes 🥺

> *insert sweet fluffy scenes with Cyno here*

> *insert cute domestic scenes here*

> Speaking of which, I heard him telling a joke once. I shouldn't pry but... I don't know if I'll laugh at the joke itself, or his delivery, or his poker face, or his long explanation! 🤣

> His joke went like : *insert Cyno's joke here*

> *insert more of Cyno's jokes here*

> *insert your own personal comeback or supplement to his jokes*

> If we are going to have babies, I bet Cyno would pass down all his jokes as inheritance

> Cute desert babies!! 😍❤️

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

You excitedly packed your belongings, smiling happily at the thought of traveling with expenses already paid.

"You've always wanted to go there, right? Well, you're in luck as I have to conduct research in the area. Why don't you join me? I'll cover your lodging."

It was a too-good-to-be-true opportunity - too appealing that you did not let it pass even when you had some doubts. Anyway, surely your friend would not scam you when they said you could tag along in their journey free of charge. You had your own money so even if they did make you contribute Mora, you were prepared.

As a scholar of Amurta, you wanted to learn more about life behind The Wall of Samiel. In this trip, maybe you could practice adapting in the desert. Maybe you could learn more about the desert people's culture and preferences. You know, just in case you and Cyno decided to have kids and settle down in the desert.

Which was impossible, currently. Because number one: Cyno was a dedicated General Mahamatra. And number two: Cyno had no clue you and him were dating.

"Hi, thanks for letting me join you in your research!" you immediately greeted your friend with gratitude.

"No problem! We have to hurry, though. We don't want to be late on our accommodations," your friend brushed off, focusing on their map and beckoning you to pick up the pace.

You got to your meeting place thirty minutes early yet your friend made it seem you were late. Whatever, you couldn't complain. You were benefitting from this expedition anyway. Instead of grumbling, you acted like a sensible adult, did as instructed, and darted to where your friend ran off to.

"Uhm... Is this the right way to Caravan Ribat?" you confirmed, huffing as you tried to speak while jogging.

"No. We won't be passing through Caravan Ribat," your friend responded, making you think for a second.

Why wouldn't you go through Caravan Ribat? Was there another route you could use to travel to the desert? Where exactly were you two going to stay anyway? Before you could voice your doubts, your companion moved on to talk about their research.

You and your friend discussed academics without forgetting to hurry your pace. It was a long travel, almost as if you were trying to make a stray cat lost, but the conversation you had made the trip enjoyable. Soon enough, you indeed both reached the desert.

You marveled at its wonderful sight, a scenery totally different from the rainforests and greeneries you were used to. You saw henna berries and wondered if you could make a dish Cyno would like. You also saw scarabs and thought how hard-working they seemed - pretty much like the General Mahamatra. Another creature that reminded you of the man was the desert fox, because you find them both cute.

Marching forward, you saw wooden structures on the distance. Was that the place you were headed? You did not expect it to be livable, though. Far from it, in fact. In a place like that, what would you do if a sandstorm occurred? Where would you get water for drinking? What about for hygiene? How-

"Well, well. Look who we have here," a rough voice greeted you both. "Purchasing one wasn't enough for you, eh?"

Three eremites popped out from hiding and surrounded you, all of them wearing a grin that spelled trouble.

"I have the goods," your friend declared.

"W - what's going on...? You brought them goods? What goods?" you nervously asked as your flight senses screamed at you.

"Sorry, [your name]," was all your friend said to you while grabbing your arm. "I have the girl. Now, where are my canned knowledge?"

"What?! Let me go, now!!" you yelped, kicked, and resisted. With a successful punch, you managed to free yourself from the traitor's grasp before falling prey to one of the eremite's strong hold. "Nooo! Let! Me!! Go!!!"

"Haha! She looks feisty. I like it!" an eremite said, eyeing you from head to toe. He licked his lips and it clarified what would become of you if you didn't escape.

"Good! Good! This almost looks like an excellence exchange. Except we need to sample your goods first," another one commented.

"She's a hindrance to my research. Do what you want with her, I don't care. As long as you give me the canned knowledge," the bastard you once considered friend revealed as they gave you a scornful look.

The foul declaration made your stomach churn. So this was the reason why your instincts told you to decline the offer. You should have known and listened.

"Well, aren't you too eager? You hear that, girl? We're going to have loads of fun with you," to this, the three eremites guffawed and started touching your defenseless body.

You struggled against the tight hold on you. It didn't matter if you ended up with broken bones. Escape was far more important than anything else right now.

But something distracted them - something behind you made one eremite look wary and draw his sword. Meanwhile, your bastard colleague's face turned pale, suddenly shrieking and bolting away faster than lightning.

Cyno, the General Mahamatra, was here.

Your saviour easily dealt with the small group of eremites before instructing you to stay put. You did as told and watched your self-declared boyfriend go after the treacherous scholar. In less than thirty minutes, Cyno returned with your now unconscious acquaintance, their crotch area wet from fear.

Cyno scanned you from head to toe. He already captured his target but it seems there might be one more. Judging from the way you trembled, you were either hiding something illegal or still in shock.

"Trading canned knowledge is strictly prohibited," he initiated.

"I am aware," you responded weakly, shaking from both fear and excitement. "I - I was nearly sold for canned knowledge by that person. Thank you for saving me."

Cyno's eyes widened momentarily. So that was why you were in a compromising position earlier. He noted to make sure to double this person's punishment.

To investigate further, the General Mahamatra questioned you about the situation to which you obliged.

"Where are the canned knowledge?"

"I don't know," you said sheepishly as you felt pressured not knowing the answer. "I'm not even sure if these eremites really possessed them in the first place. But they did mention something about buying once was not enough?"

Cyno once again studied your movements. Your accounts and his information about this person matched. Plus, you seemed to be telling the truth. To formally conclude his investigation, he needed to check your belongings and ensure you did not possess canned knowledge or anything else that was prohibited.

Punishment did not scare you. You knew you were innocent so you let Cyno freely scan your stuff. He ran through your clothes - including your cute undies; your academic notes and books; your sufficient-just-for-travel Mora; your own Casket of Tomes; your naughty journal.

Oh, right! You had it with you in fear that someone might stumble upon it while you were away. You gasped loudly; colors drained your face as you watched Cyno open the notebook. This prompted the General Mahamatra to think the daybook contained something along the lines of academic fraud or plagiarism. An evidence of misdeed.

But what he discovered was far from what he assumed. Now he understood why you were horrified. Nothing has ever fazed him before but this - this was just too much that the quiet Cyno was left even more speechless. Almost everything written in the journal was all about your horny thoughts towards him.

Almost but not all.

You dreaded the passing minutes. Wait, was perverting the General Mahamatra illegal? It's not like you were publicly doing it, right? It was just a journal after all, something akin to therapy. In any case, you waited for Cyno's verdict.

"So...," Cyno coughed, hiding the embarrassment coursing through his body after browsing through your notes. "You...liked my joke?"

Cyno focused on the less bawdy information in your notes. He may not show it but you knew he was pleased. Still, it did not immediately dispel the shame you felt from being exposed.

"U - uhm - yes. Yes, I do...," you answered bashfully.

"You had an impressive addition for the joke about sumpter beasts. Do you mind if I use that joke myself?"

"Oh! I - uh - I don't mind. Please feel free."

"And you play Genius Invocation TCG too?"

"Yeah, I do. I watched you play once and you looked so cool. I started learning recently so I'm not as skilled as you."

"And you're my girlfriend?"

"I - I was just fantasizing!! Sorry!" you yipped. "It will not get me in trouble, will it?"

This Cyno. You were starting to relax around him! Why did he have to bring up an embarrassing topic? Wait. Was that an amused smile on his face? It must be, otherwise you were hallucinating under the scorching heat.

Cyno nodded before putting all your stuff neatly back in place.

"You're cleared. I'll escort you back home before handing this researcher for trial, and I will make sure it will be a severe one on your behalf. Be extra cautious next time," he concluded, handing you your backpack. "After this, when can I see you again?"

----------

🏛 KAVEH

Journal Entry Highlights :

> My Kaveh is not like any other scholar and I am so proud of him! ❤️

> He is so approachable and he is not snobbish (as others) and he is so open-minded and ❤️❤️

> Notice me please, sir ❤️❤️❤️

> If I told him I was dying and I needed him to fuck me as cure, will he do it? 😳👀👀‼️

> *insert crack / smut scenario wherein you ask Kaveh to cure you through sex*

> No, of course I would not stoop as low

> No, he is not the reason why I chose the Darshan Kshahrewar 🙄

> But he is the reason why I stayed 😏

> Why does he have to be so nice?? It's giving me mixed signals!! 😭😭

> If he and I were to be together... 🥺😍❤️

> Out of all the scholars in Sumeru, I want Kaveh to be my spouse ❤️

> *insert drafts / designs of dream house and rooms here*

> Sir, please give me babies. ❤️

> *insert Kaveh smut here*

> *insert portraits of Kaveh here*

> *insert more smut here wherein you and Kaveh had done the deed in every. single. room*

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Excuse me, Kaveh, sir!” you approached the blonde-haired man seated on the library, drafting away on a sheet of paper. The desk was fully occupied by him as his tools and other materials took up much space.

"Hello!" Kaveh greeted and despite getting distracted, he smiled pleasantly at you.

Noticing the cute lion hairclip and the adorable accessories, he recognized his favourite junior immediately: someone whose ideas were akin to his. [Your name].

Other scholars, regardless of their Darshan, had always judged you wrong. Your sense of style, both in appearance and in work approach, always gave them the initial impression that you did not have what it takes to graduate.

Yet here you were, an accomplished architect standing in front of him.

"Just Kaveh will do, you know? So how can I help you?" he asked, resting his cheeks on his knuckles, happy to see a like-minded soul.

"Yes, uhm...," you said bashfully, stifling a giggle that's about to burst from you. "I'm looking for the scribe-"

"Why??" he immediately cut, straightening his body and squinting at you disapprovingly.

You almost laughed at your senior's reaction. You knew he liked to complain about his roommate - his benefactor - and you took advantage of this just so you could have extra time to talk to the architect. You could have gone straight to your concern without mentioning Alhaitham but no, you just had to.

"Isn't he supposed to be in his office? Wait, of course he isn't! You wouldn't be asking me otherwise if he were there, right?" Kaveh grumbled. To this, you finally let out a laugh and apologized immediately. "Ugh! Seriously! So, why did you need him anyway?"

"He rejected my application form," you sighed, showing your senior the request form you filled out with a big red REJECT mark on it.

Kaveh took your form and beckoned you to take the seat beside him. You happily obliged, patiently waiting for your crush to review your request for accessing archived materials. Judging by the look on his face, you knew he was going to complain yet again.

"This looks properly written! I don't understand why Alhaitham would decline this?!" Kaveh bursted, huffing as he re-read what you wrote for the nth time. "You even explained why you needed the materials, for what project, for whom, and for how long. See! These are complete details! Geez...! That guy..."

"Pfft... Ahem...," you wanted to laugh out loud, really, but you were in a library. On the other hand, Kaveh had no problems being loud in a quiet place like this. "I want to know why my request got denied as well, so I was thinking of asking him personally," you reasoned.

"No need!" the architecture puffed, handing the paper back to you. "Just file another request with the EXACT SAME CONTENTS. If he approves that then he is so going to get a piece of my mind!"

"Thank you for your advice."

Kaveh looked so cute. The pout on his lips indicated he was displeased with the matter. Then a smirk formed on his face as he imagined his win on the debate against the scribe.

"Sorry if I disturbed you," standing up, you told the daydreaming man.

"Hehe. It's no problem," Kaveh replied who was suddenly in a good mood after his outburst. "Let me know if your request gets approved, okay?"

"I will. Thank you."

...

"Ugh!! I swear he could be so unreasonable sometimes! No, make that all the time!" Kaveh grumbled yet again after finding out Alhaitham rejected your request.

"It's okay. He recommended another book so I did gain something," as much as you liked Kaveh, you still defended Alhaitham because he indeed suggested a better alternative.

"If you ask me, he should have lent you the other one as well. For extra inspiration, you know?" Kaveh pouted as he sensed he lost the chance to impress you and you were siding with his roommate.

This time, you agreed with the architect's reasoning and nodded in agreement. He sighed and decided to stop the Alhaitham slander.

"By the way... What do you think about this design?" the renowned architect asked, showing you his craft. He then proceeded to explain his client's request and discussed the idea behind his design in line with the requirements.

You were humbled immediately. Why would your senior ask for your advice? You were his junior and he was way better than you! You should be getting recommendations from him instead! Despite the thoughts plaguing you, you tried to take in the details he provided.

"So basically, that's what the couple wanted for their vacation lot."

"Isn't this confidential?" was your first response after he was done talking.

"Meh... Yeah," Kaveh replied carelessly with a shrug. "It's okay if it's you. Your opinion matters to me."

Your opinion matters to me. See, this was why you liked Kaveh.

"Uhm - if you say so...," you said nervously as you finally tried to gather your thoughts.

"Don't panic!" Kaveh urged, knowing fully well why your hands trembled. "I wouldn't be asking just anybody, you know?" he encouraged, giving you a persuasive wink.

You blushed at the man. At times like this, you wanted to burst and admit that you liked - no - loved him so much. But you were afraid you might just be reading too much, hallucinating that his actions were advances. He was just a nice, expressive man, that's all.

You shook your head, took in a deep breath, and focused on what your senior asked you.

"This. If the client wanted to go for that kind of feel, then I think...," you murmured while drawing a design on a separate sheet of paper.

Kaveh's smile never once disappeared on his face. Chin on his knuckles, with much adoration, he watched you draw alternatives for his design. If only he could help you trust your abilities a little more.

You and Kaveh shared ideas back and forth, igniting more inspirational thoughts within each other which led you to accomplish the draft he needed to do. He proudly raised the design and admired the finished product.

"This, [your name], right here, is our child," he declared, complimenting each and every detail on the masterpiece.

"Calling it our child is too much, don't you think?" you squeaked, afraid he might catch on to your secret feelings.

"No, it's not! It is exactly what it is!" Kaveh whined, pouting at your disapproving remarks. "Look, this right here was your idea-"

Kaveh went on with his praises, jubilantly reminding the impressive job you and he did together as a "couple".

...

This table.

This table was where you and Kaveh made a child together days ago. Sadly, it wasn't a real kid, but a project together was still something. You placed your stuff down, took out your materials, and let your brain work. It was time for you to make your own draft.

You scribbled away. You drew and drew yet the outcome did not meet your expectations. This was not what your client wanted. Yes, you had inspiration, but your ideas were all about life with Kaveh. You sighed and decided to make another entry on your private journal.

On a blank page, you started to design a bedroom. You meticulously detailed the area, taking into account where you wanted the sun's rays to be; how you expected the beddings to look like; what pattern should the curtains and rugs have; etcetera etcetera. All the little things. Just as you were about to make the finishing touch-

"Is that your dream room?" a very recognizable voice crept from behind.

"Kaveh!!" you squealed, slamming your notebook shut in trepidation.

Noticing the sketch was drawn in a notebook, Kaveh assumed it contained designs of your personal tastes. He grinned at you mischievously, waiting for a right moment.

"Y - you scared me...," you wheezed, slowly hiding the notebook away which your senior did not fail to notice.

Kaveh really did give you a fright. Luckily, there wasn't anything unusual on your splayed journal - just your recently drawn bedroom design. Archons, if he were to see the previous contents-

"Hey, can I see?"

"No!" you immediately reacted.

"Why not? Come on! Just a peek?" Kaveh pleaded.

There you were again, hiding your talent.

Complimenting your skills and praising your craft was the only thing Kaveh could do. Anything more might creep you out and make you avoid him. He wished you gave him a chance.

"No! It's embarrassing...!" you begged, almost throwing your notebook back into your bag but Kaveh was quick to stop you.

He shouldn't but he needed to resort to extreme measures.

"Hehe, got it!" Kaveh teased, now holding your naughty journal.

"No! Kaveh, stop!" you pleaded but the tall man disregarded your request.

He immediately flipped on the back of the notebook. Judging from his reaction, from the way he hummed in approval, he was looking at the recent drawing. Good. There was hope that your dirty secret remains as is.

"You saw it. Now can I get it back?" you tried yet from the way you croaked, failed to hide how defensive you sounded.

"Aww... Why would your hide something this pretty?" Kaveh cooed, flipping through the previous page.

"Wait-!!" was all you could utter.

You stood there as equally frozen as Kaveh. In the page currently exposed was an art of him holding a rolled blueprint. Hearts of unequal sizes were littered everywhere and a speech bubble quoting "This, [your name], right here, is our child! ❤️" was directed to him. The red Kaveh, with saucerlike mouth, glanced at you and saw how flustered you were - you almost wanted to vanish.

Yet he continued.

Kaveh flipped through the pages and saw more entries. Some were architectural designs which included remarks as to why you think Kaveh would like it or why it was constructed as such should you and Kaveh married each other. Other drawings were of him in different poses and expressions, all of which had hearts here and there. At times, speech bubbles were present and he remembered these quotes were the exact words he told you. The most interesting of all the entries were the long texts. There were scattered lewd words and from there, he knew they were smut.

"You like me??!" Kaveh shrieked. "For how long now???"

His whole head was now burning red, you could almost see smoke coming out of his ears, nose, and mouth. He was so surprised that he had to lean back while placing a hand on his chest, gawking at you in astonishment.

You were equally as red as him and you wanted cry. In fact, tears already formed in your eyes. One more word from Kaveh and you were sure to grovel in despair.

"W - Wait! Wait! No! No! Don't cry...!" the blonde-haired man panicked, fidgeting if he should approach you or let you be or what to say or-

And then the tears fell followed by restrained sniffles and soft quaking of your shoulders.

"Oh no, no, no...!" Kaveh blurted, dashing to hold you in his arms and press your face onto his chest.

Archons, this was so embarrassing.

"Kaveh...!" you whimpered, to weak to do anything at all.

You liked him. That couldn't be right. Not when he held onto a conflicting piece of information.

"Argh! You're coming with me!" Kaveh spouted.

He packed your things, chucking everything carelessly in your bag, before dragging you to a more secluded area outside the Akademiya.

The garden. You and him alone together in the garden would have been romantic had it not been for the events earlier. The moment he stopped dragging you, he immediately clarified.

"Didn't you say you liked Alhaitham??"

"Huh?" was your response as you snuffled in confusion, still recovering from the awkward situation.

Really, this man could fluster you in many ways.

"Alhaitham. You told me you liked Alhaitham," Kaveh repeated, now more serious in his tone.

"When...?" your forehead wrinkled tightly, now getting annoyed and confused at the sudden accusation.

"Back when you were a student! You mentioned you had a crush on Alhaitham once and that was the first time you approached me. You told me you wanted to know my friend's name then you asked about your project so we worked on it together-"

And then it dawned on him. It wasn't Alhaitham. It was never Alhaitham. That guy was just your excuse so you could talk with each other. An icebreaker. Kaveh prided himself to be more knowledgeable in reading emotions yet he missed this very important pattern.

Your forehead was still tightly knitted, red puffy eyes glaring angrily at him. Archons, from all that happened earlier, you probably hated him now. But he had to do this, otherwise he won't have any other chance.

"So, you like me?" Kaveh, still not learning his lesson, badgered. You huffed out loud, exasperated with his antics. "No - just! I want to hear it from you! Do you like me?"

"Yes. Are you happy now?"

Did he really have to make you say it? Wasn't invading your journal enough??

"Really??" Kaveh beamed.

Why was he happy? Did he-

"I like you too, you know!" Kaveh bursted in excitement. "Archons, you should have told me from the start! All this time I thought you liked Alhaitham."

At this point, you weren't sure if you should believe him.

"What's with that look? Come on. I'm not lying! Hey, so, since we like each other, can we start dating now? Or will you give me the permission to properly court you?"

----------

🍄 TIGHNARI

Journal Entry Highlights :

> Tighnari's ears and tail look so fluffy! 🤩

> I WANT TO TOUCH THEM SO BAD!! 🤩‼️

> *insert drawings of Tighnari's head and tail here*

> But those aren't the only things I want to touch 😏

> So...does Tighnari have a knot or....??? 👀

> And does he have the urge to breed...? 🥵

> *insert fantasy wherein Tighnari is in a rut and he fills you*

> *insert fantasy wherein Tighnari fills you up to the brim and he plugs your pussy with his knot so the cum just stays there*

> *insert drawing of Tighnari with lust-filled eyes as he licked his lips*

> Tighnari is such a strict teacher, though. 🥺

> "You don't learn fast, do you? You should know by now that I want my cock deep inside you... All.the.way.in..."

> *insert fantasy of Tighnari forcing a hardcore fellatio*

> *insert fantasy of you and Tighnari on a mating press*

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

“Hey, hey! I see a withering zone! Oh - there's another one! Wait - wait!! Make that a total of three withering zones!” you shouted as you gazed on the Seed Mirror.

"How big are they and how far?" your peer asked in a loud voice so you could hear.

"Uh - wait, let me mark them on my map!" you answered as you plotted the location on your map. "I've got it!"

You jumped down from the watch tower and met with your companion. Your fellow forest ranger shook their head as they thought of how impulsive and reckless you could be.

"See, look. These are the three locations. Now this one right here looks waaay bigger than these two so I think it's urgent," you pointed.

"Archons, is this really the scope of this withering zone? It wasn't there last time, right? We should immediately report this to Tighnari then!" your companion suggested, alarmed at the big red loop drawn on your map.

"I know. You go on ahead. I'll continue with our route," you counter-proposed. "You can go back on your own, right?"

"Hey! Just because I don't have a Vision like you, doesn't mean I can't go back on my own!" your friend retorted, giving you a playful noogie.

"Ahaha! Sorry!" you laughed. "But really, you should head back."

"Are you sure you don't want to report this to Tighnari yourself?" your friend teased as they knew you had a huge crush on the Forest Watcher.

"Hah! I know that look!" you amusingly replied. "I don't mind if you report it to Tighnari. Someone has to continue our patrol route. If something unexpected happens, say another withering zone appeared or an ambush happened, then my Vision can at least give me some protection," you explained as tactfully as possible before repeating. "You go on ahead."

"Alright," your friend hesitated, yet they tucked your map away so they could depart. "Be careful, little miss reckless."

"I prefer being called little miss brave," you retorted.

You and your friend bid each other farewell. Touching your [element] Vision, a smile painted your face as you watched your friend sprint back to Gandharva Ville. It was for the best. You nodded before continuing your route.

The usual walk seemed to be normal. There were no travelers in need of assistance; no unusual activity harming the forest; no peculiar discrepancy in the beast population. It was just the usual lush greeneries and peaceful surroundings.

At the end of your patrol route was a forest ranger's watch post. You let yourself in and wrote today's findings on a logbook.

[Date time] - Three withering zones detected using Mawtiyima Forest Seed Mirror, one with wide range; to be reported by [friend's name] to Tighnari; No other unusual activities and no lost/troubled travelers encountered - [your name]

After the long routine, you sat down and took greedy gulps from your water bag, resting and relaxing your feet for a while. By now, you thought, Tighnari should be aware of the withering zone.

Oh, Tighnari, your cute fluffy leader.

You were finished with your route anyway. Maybe it was okay for you to check out the withering zones? Since you already knew where they were, you decided to go and guide wandering travelers in avoiding the said areas.

The trek to your destination was a long one so you opted to take shortcuts. As a forest ranger, you should set an example to passers-by that they should utilize the available pathways, yet here you were, away from the trail and traversing through the forest. You should be fine, you thought. You had a Vision.

Pacing further, you heard rustling noises. This prompted you to go into alert mode and steal a sneak peek. To your surprise, two floating hydro fungi and two floating dendro fungi seemed to be dancing around and releasing spores.

"What in the name of Archons...?" you whispered to yourself, jotting down notes.

Ah, shoot. If you reported this, Tighnari would give you an earful for not following the tracks and for wandering into the forest alone.

Anyway.

"...releasing spores... search the area for... Yep," you said as you wrote your thoughts down.

Mating. From what you know, the fungi were mating. Sexual reproduction, of course, was a normal thing. But was this a normal circumstance or was it anomalous?

Sneaking away from the love-making fungi, you investigated the area further. To your surprise, even other species were doing the deed. On one of a tree branch, you saw dusk birds on top of another. Not far from that tree, you even stumbled upon lizards on a mating hold.

What could be the cause of this?

You noted every single detail on your notebook as you judged this was indeed abnormal. Searching further, you noticed a pink puffy cloud coming from whatever it was behind a bush. You covered your mouth and nose with a scarf before sneaking on the unknown creature.

A pink-coloured poison mushroom. What an unusual shade!

Assuming you were in a safe distance, you wrote down your findings again and described the peculiar mushroom in detail.

"...pink gas cloud... Shape and pattern looks like...," you murmured, drawing the figure.

Odd. You were oddly starting to feel horny at an alarming pace.

No... It couldn't be...?

"Possibly emitting aphrodisiac." You quickly scribbled.

You immediately packed your notebook to flee, only to realize there were smaller pink poison shrooms around you hidden under bushes and tress. You failed to recognize them earlier as you were too engrossed with the bigger pink fungus. And now, it seems you fell right into their trap as all of them produced the pink fluff clouds, peppering your body with their spores.

"S - shoot...!" you cursed, feeling your crotch area ache.

...

"So [your name] was here," Tighnari murmured to himself as he put down the watch post's logbook.

The Forest Watcher Chief Officer himself scouted the area looking for you since you did not return to Gandharva Ville last night.

"She insisted that she should go alone. Knowing her, she must have gone to the withering zones."

Tighnari thought the same even if your co-ranger did not tell him. That reckless and foolhardy nature of yours was exactly the reason why he couldn't promote you as Forest Watcher. He knew why you were acting that way, though. Regardless, you always had him worried over you.

"I have a Vision, don't worry!" was what you would always retort.

It didn't matter if you had a Vision or not. Tighnari cared about you. And this was precisely what he feared. Wherever you were, he wished you were safe and away from harm.

If he were [your name], what would he do? Go off-track, of course!

He tried to simulate your steps, diving straight into the forest in hopes of finding you. He made his ears work extra hard to listen. He utilized high ground to search. He analyzed the surroundings to determine if you had gone through the same path or not. At last, his efforts were not in vain as he finally found your exhausted body seated under a tree, your back leaning on its hard trunk.

"[Your name]!" Tighnari called, darting towards you while staying on high alert.

Fast heart rate. Heavy breathing. Flushed skin. Profuse sweating. He wanted to but he couldn't possibly nag you right now.

"... Nari...," you cried weakly, opening your eyes in a small slit to confirm it was indeed your leader.

"I'm here. Tsk. I told you not to be too reckless. Now look at what happened," Tighnari said. Okay, maybe a little bit of reprimanding wouldn't hurt.

He took out his medicine box and scanned your symptoms. He placed the back of his hand on your neck to which you immediately avoided.

"Nari, don't...!" you uttered, distancing yourself as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Self-restraint was hard. "Logbook."

You handed him your ranger's journal-on-the-go so it could better explain your situation. In it, he found out about your little misadventure yesterday. He read about the unusual phenomenon you encountered and the pink poison mushroom that affected you.

"I - I was poisoned...," you finally declared with a heavy heart. How could you impress Tighnari now?

You tried. You really tried not to touch yourself again, thinking it was the best option as it hurt when you did. But now that Tighnari himself was here, your urge to finger yourself increased ten fold. You squeezed your thighs in hopes of pleasuring yourself through the friction of your flesh.

"You're horny," Tighnari corrected, observing you as he put your logbook and his medicine box away. He then guided you to drink on his water bag. "You've been thinking about me, haven't you?"

"H - huh...??" you shrieked, eyes widening at Tighnari's bold assumption.

"I said you were thinking about having sex with me," Tighnari affirmed to which you gasped loudly. He brushed off the topic, returned his water bag in place, and explained, "You were right. That pink mushroom puffs out spores that can be used as aphrodisiac. They normally reproduce asexually and rarely sexually, though. A parent mushroom is usually surrounded by its offsprings because it constantly emits spores. Unfortunately, most of the time, the baby mushrooms don't survive so these pink mushrooms are rare to find. They can only hope their spores would grow somewhere else, wherever nature takes them."

You would have listened attentively if you weren't thinking about what Tighnari said.

You having sex with him.

"Is there any cure for this...?" you asked, panting.

"In your case, since you were overexposed, medicine would not be enough," Tighnari replied. "But there is another way."

Tighnari placed both his hands on your thighs and parted them to give him enough space, all the while observing the expression in your eyes. You felt his hands squeeze your flesh, making you moan and produce more love juice.

"T - Tighnari...!!" you cried, feeling weak from your crush's touch.

"We can do whatever you want in your fantasy," Tighnari said. "I know you have been perverting me. You want to fuck with me, right?"

Using one hand, he took yours and guided you to touch his crotch area. Your pussy spasmed as you felt how hard Tighnari was. Did he want to fuck you too?

"How did you know?" you breathily asked, rubbing your palm on Tighnari's cloth. At this point, you couldn't be bothered to hide how you felt towards him.

"Your naughty journal," Tighnari answered followed by an erotic groan. "Remember the time when I accidentally stumbled upon you writing on it? I lied when I said I didn't see anything," he revealed, losing his composure as you pressed your hands on his clothed manhood.

"So... All this time, you knew...?"

Rather than being embarrassed, you felt more courageous. Hearing Tighnari's erotic noises urged you to continue teasing him. You rubbed on his hard member faster to the point that his pre-cum stained his lower garments.

But Tighnari would never let you have the upper hand. You were under the effects of aphrodisiac and he intended to take advantage of that. He pressed his knee on your crotch area, hitting your puffy clit and making you weak in an instant. His relentless teasing on your clothed womanhood had you cumming tons.

"N - nari! Tighnari! Ahh...!!"

"Hehe. Yeah. All this time I knew," he finally answered after hearing your angelic moans of his name.

Yes, he knew about your perverted thoughts towards him. But he would never admit his more debauched fantasies of you. At long last, he could listen to your sweet erotic voice properly instead of the usual muffled ones. This was way better than secretly eavesdropping on you masturbate to him back in the village.

"Stop! I'm cumming!" you squealed, grabbing onto his shoulder with both hands as another orgasm crashed down on you. You held his body close to yours, crying as the stimulation was too much for you. "Nari... Please stop...! I can't...!"

Yet the tone of your voice, from the way you pant and grind your body, suggested you wanted more.

"You started this, [your name]. If you just stayed on track and came home yesterday, then we wouldn't be doing this, would we? Now look. You got poisoned and I needed to cure you. To do that, you need to cum over and over again until you feel your body flushes out the aphrodisiacs," Tighnari reprimanded.

He secretly gloated about how much power he had over your body. Watching you plead with your eyes stirred his primordial instincts to breed you.

"I forgot to mention. I might have been affected by the mushroom too."

----------

🗺 WANDERER

Journal Entry Highlights :

How they find out about your secret and their reaction :

> A lovely kind young man saved me from aggressive wild sumpter beasts today

> A mysterious man who needed not his name

> It's okay, I like mysteries 😍😏

> He came back and introduced himself as The Wanderer. I like it ❤️

> Gosh, I can't stop thinking about him. 🥺🥺

> He looks yummy

> Why oh why do I want to make love with him? 🥺🥺🥺

> *insert sensual, romantic fantasies here*

> I haven't seen him for a while but then he comes back and he has suddenly...changed??

> He has an Anemo Vision now! 🤩🤩

> And he still remembers me! 😍

> So he goes by the name [W/N]... Why didn't he tell me sooner? 😳🙄

> He can be rude at times but I can see he's good deep inside

> Good deep inside. Heh. 😏

> Why does this new him make me feel hornier?

> *insert fantasy of The Wanderer being rough on you here*

——————————————————

"[W/N], you're here!" you giddily greeted the Anemo user as you carried a heavy pail of water.

"You idiot! That's not the proper way to carry a shit-ass heavy bucket," the man replied, grabbing the object and putting it down exactly where you needed it to be even without your instructions.

"Hehe. Thank you," with a sweet smile on your face, you expressed your gratitude to the man. His face distorted in disgust as he looked at your happy one.

Taking care of crops was no simple task. You needed to be patient and observant. Patient, because a plant could never bear fruit naturally overnight. You needed to tend to it everyday - do labor and you shall receive. Observant, because as the plant grows, its needs becomes different. Today it might need more watering but tomorrow, it might not require any more. And let us not get started on the pests that may bother it.

Just like in your relationship with The Wanderer, you needed to be both patient and observant. Patient, because he seemed to be the type of person who is not used to expressing his own emotions immediately and fully. Observant, because even if he said something, most of the time his actions contradicted them.

The Wanderer glanced upon a freshly brewed tea sitting on your outdoor table. From its scent and colour, he knew what it would taste like. You noticed this and smiled triumphantly at yourself.

"It's for you. I was expecting you," you publicized, watering your carrots carefully.

"Hmph! And if I didn't come?" he scoffed, yet proceeded to perching himself on a chair and stealing a sip from the bitter drink.

"Then I would drink it myself. There shouldn't be a problem," you retorted.

The Wanderer enjoyed banters like these. When you acted too polite around him, after he obtained his Anemo Vision, you noticed he found it boring. So you changed tactics and, every now and then you would reply something a little less nice...at least they weren't, in your opinion.

"By the way, I remember you mentioned you joined the esteemed traveler and his floating fish on their journey. Why aren't you with them now?" you inquired genuinely, placing your attention on The Wanderer.

"Heh! Floating fish. That's a good one! Hahahahaha!" your handsome companion heartily laughed.

Why does it feel like he was mocking you?

"Floating fish. Heh!" he repeated, wiping a tear that actually formed in his eyes. "The traveler took uninteresting commissions today so I decided to split away momentarily."

"Uninteresting commissions like what?"

"Bounce on an oversized mushroom, for one!" The Wanderer roared exasperatedly, his eyes twitching in disgust.

You laughed at the silly face your friend was making.

"I think that's an interesting task! Is it really possible to bounce on a huge mushroom? I had no idea," you mused, eyes widening in delight.

"For a person like you, of course it is amusing," he argued back, rolling his eyes.

"Is it boring for you because you have an Anemo Vision?" was another genuine question from you.

"This has nothing to do with my Vision." The guy palmed his face.

You had a lively chat with The Wanderer in the morning. Then afternoon came. All your routine was done and the both of you had lunch. That was when your companion excused himself and left.

Of course, you could not stop him. Even if you wished him to stay, you had no rights as you were nothing more than a friend.

Even now, I'm not sure if he likes me or not. I might just be fantasizing too much but there was no other explanation why he would come and visit me. I wish he would give me a sign. Anything at all.

You scribbled on your journal. You intended it to be your therapeutic object to vent your day-to-day encounters yet somehow, it became full of [W/N] fantasies.

I've been needy lately. Just like yesterday and the day before that, all I could think about was how it would feel to have [W/N] inside of me. I want to touch. I want to be touched. I want him to take me from behind, gripping my hips so he could take full control of my body. I want to feel weak as he rams his whole length inside of me. His

You couldn't even finish what you were writing. The more you thought about it, the more engrossed you became. A free hand already made its way inside your clothing and started to pleasure your lady parts.

"[W/N], wait...! You're the first man I've ever been with so please...," you heaved breathily, closing your eyes and picturing the visitor you had this morning as a digit circled itself on your puffy clit.

...

"So this was where my pail went. And you even filled it with water. How kind of you," you remarked happily as The Wanderer once again visited you after a few days of absence. "Good morning!"

"Rub that fucking ugly face of yours," he replied. "You didn't prepare tea for me. So you weren't expecting me?"

"Sorry! I was preoccupied with looking for my bucket, which apparently someone took already. The tea water is still boiling so you'll have to wait," you reasoned, failing to contain the ecstacy coursing through your being. "How have you been?"

"Tch! How ungrateful! Do you want me to throw the water away then?" he roared angrily at your accusation to which you shook your head, stifling an amused chuckle. "What I do is none of your concern. I don't have to tell you anything," he grumbled, resting his chin on his knuckles.

His temper might be because he had not had his tea yet. You nodded and started to water your plants. As you've explained, you couldn't serve him tea because you were still waiting for the water to boil.

"Cancel your plans this afternoon."

"Huh??" you choked, nearly drowning a poor cabbage with water in shock of The Wanderer's sudden demand.

"Are you fucking deaf or are you just fucking stupid?" he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I said cancel your damn plans this afternoon."

"Why? W - what's the occasion?" Archons, was this the sign?

The Wanderer simply looked at you. As he said before, he didn't have to say anything. But you, you had to answer him.

"Okay. After lunch, right?" you replied, blushing at the idea of an afternoon date.

The indigo-eyed man remained silent as he did not need to confirm it. Of course he meant after lunch! You smiled anyway as the sound of whistling kettle broke the silence, prompting you to give your visitor his well deserved tea.

...

"Oh, so this is what a huge mushroom looks like," you marveled at the enormous stretchy fungi, poking it for any kind of reaction. "It reminds me of you."

"I will fucking murder you if you say that one more time," The Wanderer warned, shooting daggers at your laughing face. He sighed, crossed his arms, and asked in a vigor-less tone, "Do you want to try it?"

"Yes! Please?"

"Jump on it then."

"That's it? What if I die??" you shrieked, bothered by the lack of clear instructions.

"Then you die."

You exasperatedly gasped at your companion's behaviour to which he laughed in amusement.

"Ahaha! Kidding! Your face looks stupid, seriously!" he teased before guiding you to climb an oversized fungus. "Okay, jump."

"Jump??" you hesitated. "As in jump??"

"Yes, jump. For the love of - just fucking jump already!" The Wanderer ordered.

"Nnh...!"

Shutting your eyes tight, you did as told and boldly jumped on the stretchy fungus. Your initial fear poofed away as you now bounced up and down the mushroom happily.

"[W/N]! Look! Look!" you called, ricochetting against the elastic shroom. "I'm Anemo now!"

You were enjoying so much that you failed to notice the smile painted on The Wanderer's face. Seriously, what was a person like you doing, bouncing on an overstretched, oversized mushroom? You looked so stupid.

So stupid, it was cute.

"Heeeey! Join me! It's actually fun!" you beckoned, flailing your hands in the air jovially.

After throwing you high in the air, the mushroom suddenly clunked and disappeared, leaving you cushionless on your next fall. You noticed this, making panic course through your every fibre.

"[W/N]!!"

"I've got you!" The Wanderer rang, carrying you bridal style mid-air.

Your heart beated so loud, not only from the adrenaline, but from the way The Wanderer carefully held you in his arms; from how his soft baby-face looked up close; from how his lips trembled so slightly as yours were inches away from his.

"I've got you," he whispered, eyes softly squinted as he stared at yours tenderly.

You could have sworn you were going to kiss. His lips were approaching yours and - Archons, you were sure of it! But he just had to ruin the moment and switch back to his usual grumpy nature.

"I should have let you fall and die," The Wanderer clicked his tongue, contradicting everything by gingerly putting you down on solid ground.

"Thank you..."

"Tch! You're an idiot."

...

Today was a happy day! I enjoyed myself so much! [W/N] came to visit me again and he took me on a date ❤️‼️ He let me bounce on a huge mushroom. It was fun until the mushroom poofed away. I nearly died but [W/N] caught me. It was magical! We were floating in the air using his Anemo powers, I gingerly on his arms. I was like a bride and we almost kissed happily ever after. ALMOST.

You jotted down freely on your notebook, just extremely happy that you had a wonderful time with your crush. You were on cloud nine and nothing could ever bring you down now.

Maybe he really did like me? Maybe he and I had a chance?

Maybe. Just maybe. It wouldn't hurt to wish, right?

...

The events yesterday cajoled you to sleep peacefully. Even in your slumber, you fantasized about a happy ending with The Wanderer. You couldn't bear to wake yourself from such a sweet dream so you woke up a little later than usual.

After the trip back from dreamland, your body finally stirred as you started to wake up from a wonderful rest. You stretched your limbs and let out a relaxed yawn, preparing your body for another day of work.

"Disgusting."

You shot up and saw The Wanderer perched on your desk chair in a figure four lock, facing your way as one knuckle supported his head while the other held your personal journal.

"W - What are you doing in my home?" you accused, trying to process everything. What was apparent now was The Wanderer invaded your home and had read your journal.

"Hmph! You incriminate me yet from the text written on your diary, you should be glad I'm here," The Wanderer scoffed, casting your journal back on the desk.

"Y - you...!" was all you could utter.

A mix of fear, anger, shame, and confusion painted your face - all of which were negative emotions. You had so much on your face, it looked stupid - so stupid that The Wanderer laughed in amusement.

"Surprised? Of course you should be! Hah, I bet you didn't expect this the moment you woke up, huh?" he teased in a mocking tone. "Tell me, then, oh dear [your name]. Do you still like me?"

Of course you still liked him. You knew he was a good man, despite him barging into your home unannounced. But right now, you had a lot of questions plaguing your mind.

Such as what was his purpose for doing such a thing?

The Wanderer counted the seconds until time was up. Your lack of response, deep down, disappointed him. Just as he thought, you would cower away once he showed you a glimpse of what he truly was. Internally in defeat, he stood up and prepared to depart.

"It was foolish of you to form feelings towards me. Learn from your mistakes."

Why does it feel like his words were directed at himself? Even before you could ponder further, you found yourself holding The Wanderer tightly in your arms, your faces tucked on each other's neck.

"Forget about me."

"I like you," you replied. "I like you."

"You're being foolish."

"You've told me a million times that I'm an idiot."

"Idiot. An idiot is different from a fool."

"Then I am a fool in love with you."

"Heh! You don't even know what you're dealing with yet you throw away the word love carelessly."

"Then what exactly am I dealing with, [W/N]?"

A long pause. He hesitated for a long while, filling the room with awkward silence. What was he doing, unmoving in your arms when he promised to forsake worthless emotions and to simply live for himself? He felt like he himself was a fool.

A fool in love with you.

"I am not a human," he revealed in a modest hushed tone of barely a whisper.

He expected you to react negatively - to turn back and cast him aside as you had no future with him. Who would want to be with a puppet, right? Surely no happy ending awaited you if you pursued him further.

"Does this mean you didn't like me?" you asked genuinely.

To this, he didn't answer. Of course, he liked you. He knew your feelings were genuine towards him. It was just he had a lot of questions haunting his mind.

Such as was he willing to risk loving again despite everything he's been through?

"You're afraid, aren't you?" in a gentle voice, you asked. Your thumb gingerly made soothing strokes onto his flesh as you waited for his response.

Seconds passed and with no response from The Wanderer, you deemed it was best to let him go. But the moment you loosened your grip, he immediately pressed your body against his.

"What if I told you we cannot build a family together?"

"Just tell me that you love me and visit me from time to time. That's enough for me," you declared, letting yourself melt in The Wanderer's arms. "I love you, [W/N]."

His new name has never sounded so angelic before. He was someone who preferred extremely bitter tastes yet from the way his name sweetly rolled off your tongue, he might turn into a new man.

Of course he would never admit that verbally.

Yet.

But his actions would.

So he planted a modest kiss on your cheek, a speck of promise that he would make your relationship grow and bloom.

Told you there would be drama.

I guess I got too carried away with The Wanderer's scene that it became too long? Or is it just my imagination? 😅

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some curry rice - one for you and one for your Genshin hubby. 🍛🍛

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin alhaitham #genshin alhaitham smut #genshin cyno #genshin cyno smut #genshin kaveh #genshin kaveh smut #genshin tighnari #genshin tighnari smut #genshin wanderer #genshin wanderer smut #genshin the wanderer #genshin the wanderer smut #Naughty Journal Series

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eddie-sweetheart · 2 years

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🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Five 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

🏕 Chapters List

Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in an unexpected direction.

Warnings • Cursing, possible mentions and/or depictions of violence, sexually suggestive language. Having no idea where this is going myself, you’ll need to be 18+ to read this fic just in case!

Chapter notes • Driven by desperation, I managed to finish this chapter exactly before leaving for my summer holidays ✨ Be patient with the slow burn, it will be worth it I promise! Also, if you can spot the little movie-related Easter egg I put in this chapter, let me know ;)

Chapter word count: 6.7k

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

After the bonfire, you, Steve and Robin start hanging out with Gareth, Jeff and Eddie more and more every day - and time starts running just a little bit faster.

In the following days, even if you’re often paired with other counselors on your different tasks, you always find a way to spend some time together. You have now reclaimed your own spot at the counselors' table in the Headquarters, where you all sit together both at lunch and dinner - during which you’ve discovered Gareth’s pure disdain for vegetables and Eddie’s preference for chocolate cake over apple pie.

Sometimes, you even find each other hanging out together outside one of your cabins before bedtime, sitting on the creaky, wooden steps of the tiny porch in the late evening warmth, with crickets chirping in the background as Robin snickers at Jeff’s jokes or Eddie comes up with a witty remark at Steve’s attitude. In those moments, you look at them in the dim light of the sunset and your heart warms a little as you realize that becoming friends with a couple of nerdy metalheads and an ex-popular heartthrob who just graduated high school is not what you expected for the summer - but it’s way better than you thought.

And thank god you’ve made friends with a group of musicians, you think as you now stride towards dinner with a couple of scribbled paper sheets and a pen under your arm, because you desperately need all their songwriting skills right now.

As the main door opens under the push of your hands and you start scanning the room once you get in, it doesn’t take much for you to find your friends. They’re sitting at the usual table (your table, you think with a smile) and as you make your way past the other campers to reach them, you feel your cheeks blush lightly and a soft smile bloom on your lips as you notice that Eddie’s there, too.

Well, of course he is - why wouldn’t he? But, even if you've all started hanging out together whenever you can, every time you catch a glimpse of his messy hair and bright grin, you still can’t help but be pleasantly surprised at how he wiped the idea you had of him completely clear now that you’ve gotten to know him better. After the grim (and probably prejudiced) description Steve made of him during the first camp dinner, you pictured him as a dark, dangerous guy with a troubled life - but you would have never imagined that he is, instead, a funny, witty, passionate and overall nice person to be around. And you like to have him around - a lot. As a friend, of course. A friend that also happens to look extremely handsome every time he bursts out in a laugh that can light up a whole room-

You shake these thoughts away as you finally approach the table, slamming the papers on the wooden surface and startling the whole group with your arrival.

“Jesus, y/n” Steve exclaims, clutching his chest with one hand, “you really need to stop doing this”.

“At least this time it’s not a tray full of perilously balanced food” Robin observes, scooting to the side to let you sit down between her and Steve. “What took you so long? There’s not much food left, and I was not ready to fight some prepubescent kid to save an extra serving of spaghetti for you - And also, what is that?” She asks you as you plop down on the bench that runs along the table, pointing a finger at the files you’ve brought with you.

“This” you reply with a sigh, your eyes shooting up across the table to Eddie, Jeff and Gareth as you tap lightly on the sheets, “is something I need your help with”.

The three of them stop eating and exchange some surprised looks, eyebrows furrowed and mouths agape in confusion as their forks hang in mid-air.

“Our help? With writing?” Gareth asks, trying to get a closer look at the scribbled and scratched words on the paper, “I don’t know how we could-“

He suddenly stops with a hiss of pain, one hand darting under the table to massage his leg as he swiftly turns towards Eddie. “Dude, what the hell?”

Eddie, however, ignores him and focuses on you, his deep brown eyes casually wandering over your face as he props his head on one ringed hand. “Shoot it” he chimes with a nod, “we’ll do our best”.

You thank him with a smile. “As you all know” you explain, “the big treasure hunt is tomorrow”

“Treasure hunt?” Eddie and Steve exclaim in unison, exchanging a puzzled look as Robin rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, dinguses” she says, her eyes darting between the two. “Haven’t you checked the schedule? You’ll be both on patrolling duty”.

The two guys lift their eyebrows in confusion, but you dismiss their perplexity and bring the focus back to your papers by hitting them with the palm of your hand. “For the hunt, we need to set up and hide hints all over camp” you continue. “You know, like, little pieces of burned paper that resemble pirate parchment or something of that kind”.

“That’s Mr. Smithson’s idea” Robin chips in, addressing Steve and Eddie, “the kids love that stuff”.

Across the table, Gareth nods absentmindedly with a smirk, probably thinking about last year’s hunt and how he managed to redirect everyone to the bathrooms by misplacing all the hints and creating utter chaos.

“The thing is” you go on, rotating the papers upside down so that they face the three guys in front of you, “the hints need to rhyme. And I have to write them, which I’ve been trying to do for the past three hours, but I can’t find the right words or make them sound good for the life of me. So, I thought-“ your words falter as you realize that probably this is stupid, or it might even offend them - but you’ve gone so far now, so you have to shoot your shot. “I thought that maybe you could help me with that”.

Three pairs of eyes move up from the papers and land on you, puzzlement still permeating their look.

“You know” you hesitantly add, mentally crossing your fingers, “you’re in a band, and you write music… and lyrics… I thought you’d be way better at this than me”.

Indeed, you remembered how Eddie talked about Corroded Coffin during the hike, and how it impressed you finding out that they even write and perform a couple of original songs - that’s why, in the heat and stress of the moment, you thought about asking them for a little help. And right now you really, really hope that wasn’t presumptuous of you - as Max Mayfield, another of Dustin’s friends, would definitely say.

Once you finish speaking, Eddie is the first to smile, and you realize that most of your nervousness actually depended on his reaction. You smile back, and remember to breathe again - not noticing Robin’s narrowed gaze and slight smirk as she stares at the two of you.

“Let me see” Eddie says, grabbing the paper sheets and the pen you’re handing him as Jeff and Gareth huddle closer, the food left on their trays now forgotten. They start to read what you’ve written so far, occasionally exchanging a few words that Eddie diligently reports on the paper with messy, slightly crooked handwriting.

While they work under the intrigued stare of Robin and Steve, you stand up to go get whatever food’s left - and when you walk back to your table, you’re too distracted by Gareth and Jeff’s sudden arguing about which word rhymes better with “pinecone” to catch the mean glare Jason Carver throws towards your group.

— 🏕 —

The following day, the atmosphere pervading every inch of camp is filled with electricity - and not just the one coming from the excitement and expectation of the young campers, who are ready to dart in every direction to find the trail of clues you and a few other counselors hid around the area and in the surrounding grove before breakfast.

The buzzing on the ground is indeed matched by a similar tension in the sky, as dark heavy clouds hiding sudden flashes of light are looming beyond the line of the trees across Lovers Lake, a stark contrast to the bright blue above the cabins.

And it’s exactly the thunderstorm that seems to be approaching camp with relentless slowness the main topic of the last-minute meeting you’re holding in the staff room behind the Headquarters, where Mr. Smithson is showing you today’s weather bulletin.

“The storm shouldn’t be here until later tonight” the camp director is saying, slightly rising his tone to overcome the nervous chatter of all the counselors crammed in the room. “So, the treasure hunt will still be held, but with a few extra precautions” he adds as he nods towards one of the older girls, who starts rummaging through some drawers in the back of the room. After a few seconds of loud poking around, she ends up taking out a box of walkie-talkies.

“You will do your patrolling rounds in couples” Mr. Smithson continues, while the background talking finally lowers at the sight of the devices, curiosity taking over everyone - you and your friends included. “I’ll read you the list before you head out. Each of the couples will be equipped with a walkie-talkie - you can use it to communicate with everyone else and to facilitate an eventual regrouping of the kids in case the weather conditions worsen faster than we predict. Those who are not on patrol duty will be helping Mrs. Janet with the food. Snacks have already been made for lunch, so you will make sure that everything’s ready for dinner”.

“For once I’m glad I’m on kitchen duty” Robin states, happily drumming her fingers on the table beside you. “I’ll be free the whole morning while you guys will have to deal with crazy kids running around the woods with a storm incoming. You should really start worrying” she chimes as she turns around to look up with a slightly mocking smile at Steve, Eddie, Gareth and Jeff - who are standing on their feet behind your chairs due to the lack of seats in the full room.

“Thanks for rubbing that in, Buckley” Eddie observes with his trademark lilt, arms crossed on his chest as he flashes her an ironic upside-down smile. “Don’t get offended if I’ll never come to you for friendly advice in the future, ‘kay?”

The idea of Eddie confiding in Robin for whatever reason makes you let out a low chuckle, but Robin is quick to notice it.

“Laugh all you want, y/n” she jokingly says, nudging you lightly, “but you’ll be out there in the rain, too”.

You attempt to reply, but you’re interrupted by Mr. Smithson’s declaration of the patrolling pairings for the day. Once a couple is called, they get up and head towards the door, grabbing a walkie-talkie on the way out.

Thankfully, you’re paired with Steve this time, so you’re glad that you’ll be able to spend the day in good company. You’ll be monitoring the kids along the banks of the lake, very close to the Headquarters (and, consequently, to eventual shelter from the rain); the same goes for Jeff and Gareth, who’ve ended up together after switching partners on Gareth’s idea. Eddie, instead, is the one who has it worse: he’s been positioned in the closer edges of the woods with none other than Tammy Thompson, who looks more scared to be with him than of the low rumblings in the sky that can be heard in the distance.

As he walks away with the girl, the almost funny contrast between his unimpressed expression and her almost terrified and pleading one making you unexpectedly sorry for him, an idea pops into your mind.

“Steve” you exclaim, suddenly turning towards him, “why don’t you and Eddie switch places?”

Steve looks at you with a bewildered expression in his eyes, and you immediately realize that blurting that out like that could lead to a number of misunderstandings.

“I mean, you’re very, uhm… close with Tammy” you explain, “and you could spend more time together this way. Also, she doesn’t look very comfortable around Eddie… I don’t think it’s the best feeling for him, as well, being judged like that”. You hope he understands that you’re asking this for Eddie, with a possible advantage for Steve himself; sure, you really wouldn’t mind spending the day with Eddie - on the contrary, a very deep part of you hidden beneath your chest is already exulting at the idea, but that’s not really the point right now.

“Yeah, I think we can do that” Steve hesitantly replies, confusion still hinting through his tone - but as you both look back towards the trees you realize that you’ve lost sight of the two other counselors.

“Too late, I guess” he adds with a small sigh, patting your shoulder with one hand as he catches the disappointment on your face. “He’ll be alright, though, don’t worry. She’s harmless, and I believe he doesn’t care that much about what she thinks” he tells you with a small smile.

“Yeah, yeah, of course” you quickly reply, not very convinced about that last part. “You’re the one who’s dating her, so I will take your word on that”.

“Actually” Steve speaks again as the two of you start walking towards the dark waters of the lake, “I don’t think we’ll date any longer. We’ve actually never properly dated, to be honest”.

You look at him in surprise. “And why would that be, heartbreaker?” You jokingly ask him, causing him to smile.

“I don’t think she’s the right one for me” Steve shrugs, “she kept going on and on about my hair and how I look even better up close and stuff like that” he continues while you listen, your smile softly matching his as he reveals a new side to you. “I mean, of course I like receiving compliments - I don’t spend an hour in the morning to get this bad boy to look this good for nothing” he adds, passing one hand through his actually perfect hair, “but I’m not just that. I’d love to talk about other things, too, you know?”

As you finally reach the edge of the water, it’s your turn to pat his shoulder. “I have to agree with you on this one, Steve” you tell him, “you’re actually a very nice guy with a lot to say, under all that Farrah Fawcett hairspray”.

Steve’s cheeks blush slightly as his eyes widen in surprise. “How do you even know I use that?”

“Someone I know might have mentioned that” you reply with a laugh.

“Dustin” Steve exclaims, clapping one hand to his forehand as he realizes. “I swear to god, next time I see him-“

“Harrington, Henderson, are you in position?” Mr. Smithson’s voice croaks through the walkie-talkie, cutting Steve’s words off.

“Yes sir” he replies, his tone still slightly annoyed from your conversation.

“Good” the director states, before making the final announcement. “Attention everyone: we’ve just given the go-ahead to the campers. The hunt starts now!”

As soon as those words are uttered, you can hear the excited cries of the younger campers as they start scattering all over - some running along the lake and passing next to you and Steve, others darting beyond the cabins and towards the woods.

The following hours go by without anything exciting or noteworthy really happening - except a little kid tripping on a misplaced stone on the shore and needing to be escorted back to the Headquarters for a little fixing up.

You and Steve spend most of the time chatting, playing silly word games and riddles and walking up and down the edge of the lake with the walkie-talkie in your hand.

The dark clouds seem to have slowed down their approach, so you forget about them for a while - until, after you’ve had your packed lunch on the pier, your eyes always fixed on the shore, a low rumble makes your gaze shoot up. Right above you, the sky has turned completely gray, with flashes of light peaking through the now thicker and messier clouds.

Steve throws a glance at his wristwatch, his brows furrowing in concern.

“It’s 2 pm” he states, answering the silent question in your eyes. “And it doesn’t look like it’s going to hold for much longer”.

“Do you think we should start calling the kids in?” You ask, clutching your own naked arms as a sudden gush of wind makes shivers run on your skin.

Steve thinks on it for a second, but just as he is about to reply his word are cut off by the sudden buzzing of the walkie-talkie, followed by Mr. Smithson’s voice.

“To all counselors, please regroup the campers and head back to the Headquarters” the director announces with a hurried tone, “seems like the storm is about to break sooner than we expected. See you in 15 minutes. Over and out”.

You and Steve almost jump to your feet as you swiftly walk back, calling and sending every kid you meet along the lake’s shores back towards the main building. After a few minutes, when no one else is in sight, you follow them to the Headquarters’ porch, where the staff and the other counselors are doing a headcount of the campers as they walk inside the main room.

Robin’s there too, leaning against the wooden railing as she worriedly scans the sky. You and Steve walk up to her, earning a grin as you reach her.

“You’re lucky this thing was called off” she exclaims, winking at you as she nods towards the kitchen. “I managed to steal a couple of chocolate chip cookies, we can have them with the hot choc we’ve made for the kids”.

“Sounds like a plan” Steve replies, shivering at the chilly breeze that’s getting more and more intense by the minute.

“An amazing plan, I’d say” you add as your stomach growls in agreement, causing Robin to chuckle.

“Then let’s get you inside, dinguses” she jokingly says, turning around and making her way past the other counselors crowding the porch to head towards the door with Steve right behind her, running his own hands up and down his arms to warm them up.

As you throw a last glance at the trees and pines beyond the cabins, billowing and bending under the growing strength of the wind, you suddenly stop in your tracks.

“Guys, wait” you exclaim, grabbing Steve and Robin by the back of their camp t-shirts just as they’re about to set foot inside. When their gaze follows yours, they see Jeff and Gareth rushing towards the Headquarters from the woods. When they reach you, panting and sweating from the effort of avoiding the upcoming rain, Gareth leans against the wooden wall of the building while Jeff greets you between a deep breath and the other.

“Jesus, that was one hell of a run” he states with both hands on his hips as he continues to breathe, “have you guys seen Eddie? He wasn’t here when we came back from our spot, so we went looking for him” he continues, rubbing one hand on his forehead, “but he’s nowhere to be found”.

“Yeah, no shit” Gareth adds, finally catching his breath, “we even tried to contact him on the radio, but he never replied”.

An abrupt weight drops on your stomach at Jeff’s words, the thought of Eddie being out there with a storm coming worrying you more than you expected.

“No, man, we haven’t seen him” Steve replies, while you and Robin start scanning the porch to check for him. As much as you’d be relieved to see his tall figure towering over the few counselors that are still outside, Jeff’s statement still holds true: he’s not there. However, a blonde ponytail catches your gaze - and that’s when you know that something’s not right.

“Hey, Tammy” you call out, waving at Tammy Thompson once she turns around. She sees you and starts walking towards you, flashing glimpses of turquoise eyeshadow as she bats her eyes at Steve.

“Hi Y/n, Robin” she briefly greets you and Robin, whose slight blush disappears as soon as Tammy turns to look up a Steve with a wink. “Hello, handsome” she flirtatiously says, her southern accent noticeable in her voice as she curves her lips in a big smile - which turns into a less genuine one as she becomes aware of Jeff and Gareth’s presence behind you.

Steve hesitantly smiles back, but you’re quick to take him out of his embarrassment by addressing her again.

“So, Tammy” you begin, hoping to get some answers out of her. “Where’s Eddie? He was with you during patrol, right?”

Tammy looks at you with big, clueless eyes. “You mean Munson?” She asks, permed curls falling on her shoulder as she tilts her head. “Sorry, haven’t seen him”.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him?” Robin interjects, any leftover trace of her previous crush on the girl now completely gone. “You didn’t walk back here with him when Mr. Smithson canceled the treasure hunt?”

“Oh, God no” Tammy replies, the ghost of her smile now turning into a slightly annoyed grimace. “I left him in the woods”.

“You did what?” Gareth exclaims, taking a few steps closer with raging eyes just to find himself blocked by Steve’s arm.

“You left him in the woods? Alone? Does he at least have the-” Steve calmly asks Tammy, but he cuts the question off once his gaze falls on the walkie-talkie that she is fidgeting with. “Jesus, you took the walkie-talkie with you?” He blurts out, one hand nervously rushing through his hair.

“God, Steve, calm down” Tammy exclaims, taking a step back. “He was being all creepy, trying to make some conversation and then being completely silent - also, after what Jason told us, I really didn’t want to spend more time alone with him than it was necessary, so I left as soon as I heard Mr. Smithson on here” she explains, waving the walkie-talkie in front of you. “Munson said he saw a kid walking off the trail and he wanted to go get him, so I didn’t think it was necessary to wait for him. He basically left me alone in the woods” she concludes with a snort, her words causing you all to look at each other with worry.

You don’t even want to know what she means with her reference to Jason Carver, not now at least. “Steve, we need to go look for him” you plainly state, your whole body tense and ready to sprint towards the trees. “It’s dangerous to be in the woods with a thunderstorm, and he doesn’t know the area. We need to hurry”.

Tammy raises her eyebrows at you in genuine curiosity. “Why do you even care so much about someone like him?”

Her question is met by five pairs of glaring eyes. “Because he’s our friend” you all reply in unison, startling her as she looks back and forth between all of you to focus back on Steve.

“Geez, Harrington, I thought you shared everyone’s opinion that Munson’s a freak” she blurts out at him, her head shaking in disbelief.

You might want to punch her here and now, but Steve gently places a hand on your arm and speaks.

“Listen, Tammy” he tells the girl, who’s standing between you and the porch steps, “I might have been a dick in the past, but I regret it and I’m trying to be better than that. Yes, I might have thought of Eddie Munson as a freak once, but I know better now - and you should too. He’s a person, just like me and you, except he’s probably nicer. Now, please move, we have to go”.

Flabbergasted, Tammy stares at you in complete silence as you and Steve turn back to Jeff, Gareth and Robin.

“Wait for us here, and keep your walkie on” you state, completely ignoring Tammy, “we’ll update you as soon as we can”.

“Got it” Jeff replies with a nod, his eyes following you as you move past a still astonished Tammy Thompson and head towards the cabins and the grove beyond them.

The low rumbles coming from the sky accompany you along the whole path, often paired with flashes of lightning that create long, yellow veins across the dark clouds. It’s still early afternoon, so you can clearly see the trail you’re walking on, the same one you took when you went on the hike on the second day of camp - but this time, the strong wind that’s running through the forest slows you and Steve down a bit, causing the branches and leaves to shake uncontrollably in your line of vision.

“Uhm, y/n, you know where we’re going, right?” Steve asks you, moving a particularly long branch away from you to let you pass.

You nod firmly, your eyes stuck on the path ahead. “Besides the shortcut to the bonfire spot, this is the only trail leaving from camp. He mustn’t be far - hopefully” you state, stopping every now and then to listen to your surroundings, examining the woods around you to look for any trace of Eddie’s presence.

Steve looks at you as you keep moving forward, his eyes investigating your worried expression. “Don’t you think that maybe we… we should have warned the staff? Set up a search party or something?”

“A… a search party?” You stop in the middle of the trail and turn to Steve, your eyes now filled with dread at the idea that maybe you underestimated the situation: why did you have to rush like that, away from camp without telling anyone? And why did it have to be you looking for Eddie? His friends know him better, they could probably find him faster…

As soon as Steve catches your quickened breath and quivering lips, he rushes to you, reassuringly placing both his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m sure he’s fine, y/n” he tells you, looking straight into your eyes, “I really do. But since this thing up here seems to be moving pretty fast” he adds, motioning with one hand towards the sky, “and we are quite deep into the woods, maybe we should head back and tell Mr. Smithson. Then the staff could come out here and help look for him before the storm hits-“

“Shhh” you suddenly cut him off, placing your index finger on your lips, your eyes wide as you listen to the woods around you. “Do you hear that?”

Steve looks left and right, trying to find any sound that isn’t the rustling of the leaves and bushes or the wind blowing through the trees. Then, he hears it too - a low but not too distant high pitched voice, yelling something that sounds extremely close to “shit”.

As Steve’s eyes widen, you let out a short chuckle filled with relief. “Eddie?” You start crying out, moving fast towards the sound, which is coming from the right side of the path.

“Eddie, where are you?” You and Steve both scream, getting off the trail and into the bushes.

A loud rumble covers whatever response you get, but it doesn’t take much for you to find the source of the voice. With Steve following you close, you keep walking in the same direction, until you turn up in a very small clearing among some pine trees. There, frantically pacing on the soft grass, you finally see Eddie.

“Shit, shit, shit” he’s nervously yelling, his hands tearing at his unmistakable curly hair, “it all looks the fucking same, for Christ’s sake-“

You stop in your tracks at the sight, making Steve almost bump into you at the edge of the clearing - but you don’t care, because sweet relief is filling your chest and reminding you how to breathe.

“Eddie!” You call his name one last time, making him turn around with a startle.

“Y/n?” He exclaims - and as soon as he realizes that it’s actually you, a smile finally breaks on his lips as he rushes towards you. “Thank god, I was starting to think I was fucked for good”.

You sprint to him, too, your lips matching his grin - but both of you stop just before you crash into each other.

“You’re- you’re here” he stutters, his hands wavering in the air as you let out a chuckle, “you found me”.

“Yeah” you reply, your eyes meeting his, “we did”.

“We…?” He asks, but as he utters those words he notices Steve walking up into the clearing as well.

“Oh, hello Harrington” Eddie casually says, his cheeks blushing with… embarrassment?

“‘Sup, man” Steve replies, greeting him with a wave, “you gave me and y/n here quite the scare. How did you even get lost?”

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and Steve, his expression now unreadable. “I, uh… I think I saw one of those little shi- one of those kids running around, so I thought I’d grab him and take him back” he explains, casually walking up to a tree and unexpectedly throwing a few soft punches at its trunk, making you and Steve look at him with confusion. “You know, didn’t want them to be left out here in the fucking apocalypse. But I guess no one was actually there, so… yeah”.

“Well, thank god y/n rushed to your rescue then. Not even the fucking apocalypse could stop her” Steve says as he makes air quotes with a knowing smile, earning a death glare from you.

Eddie’s gaze turns back on you. “You- it was your idea? To come get me?” he asks you, his expression softening again.

You hesitate, not knowing what and how much to let out in the open (wait, is there something to let out about it?). “Uh- yeah, I mean, I know the area so I thought we could find you fast enough” you blabber, not really knowing if your words make any sense.

Eddie seems like he’s about to reply, but anything he wanted to say is abruptly cut off by a loud crackle - signalling the first thunder finally falling closer to the woods.

“Time to get out of here, guys” Steve exclaims, urging you to follow him back to the path.

You walk fast behind Steve, Eddie marching beside you as you make your way back to camp. No one speaks, as you’re all focused on making it through the vegetation in the now darkened light before all hell breaks loose. And you almost make it.

As you reach the final stretch of the path before the woods thin out to reveal the cabins, the first few, thick droplets of rain start pattering on the ground and on you, causing dark splotches to appear on the green sleeves of your camp t-shirts.

You quicken your pace, but it’s too late now: in a matter of seconds, after a few more claps of thunder and rumbles, heavy rain is washing over you, the last trees of the grove offering you little shelter.

“Run!” Steve cries out, sprinting towards the cabins and, further ahead, the safe and dry main room of the Headquarters.

You move to do the same, not completely sure if you’re going to make it before you get soaked to your bones - but your thoughts turn into a completely different direction as the feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing yours and pulling you into a run with him hits you like lightning.

As your legs rush ahead on their own, rain pouring around you in the most intense summer shower you’ve ever witnessed, time seems to slow down for a moment. All your senses are pulled towards the point where your palm is touching Eddie’s skin, where the hard metal of his rings occupies the space between your fingers, where - if you could focus a bit better right now - you swear you could feel his heartbeat.

The moment breaks suddenly and you realize you’ve made it to the front porch of the Headquarters. Soaked, yes, but safe and sound beside Eddie and Steve

“That was fun - shit” Eddie states with a grin, strands of curly hair plastered to his face as he looks down on you. As soon as he does that, he realizes that he’s still holding your hand, so he lets go - lightly flexing his fingers open as he takes a step away. The grin, however, doesn’t fade.

“Guys! You made it” Robin’s voice echoes from behind you, her face peering from the door with a huge smile as she throws a glance at the three of you, her eyes settling on Eddie. “Glad to know you’re okay, Munson”

Eddie nods his thank-you in her direction, while Steve starts making his way inside.

“Are you guys coming? I don’t want to catch something by staying outside a minute longer” he asks, one of his hands already on the doorframe.

“Sure” you reply, following his lead. “Eddie?” You question him once you notice that he doesn’t move.

“I need to get something from my cabin first” Eddie states, earning a surprised look from you, Robin and Steve.

“Are you sure about that?” Robin asks, clearly referring to the downpour that is still going.

“Yeah, it will take me a minute. I’m soaked already anyways” Eddie replies, a reassuring smile painted on his lips.

And he is, soaked. You’ve obviously noticed the way his wet camp t-shirt is clinging to his torso, hints of dark ink now visible under the almost transparent cotton. You glimpse some vague figure tattooed on his upper chest, but you’ve restrained your eyes from lingering on him for too long.

However, you can’t help but let out a spontaneous question, one you almost regret as soon as you utter the words.

“You’re not going to get lost on me again, are you?” You blurt out to Eddie, hoping he won’t notice your blushing cheeks.

He looks at you with a weird expression, something between amusement and softness. “I won’t, princess. I promise.”

— 🏕 —

The dining room is filled to the brim with campers and counselors, seeking some shelter from the storm that’s raging outside.

The raindrops patter hard and incessantly on the wooden walls and on the thick, old glass of the windows, thunders occasionally cracking and startling the younger kids, grouped tightly around a few reassuring counselors.

Half-empty mugs of hot chocolate are scattered on every table among cookie crumbs, board games are opened and set up and dry camp t-shirts and sweatshirts are handed around for those who got caught in the rain. You’ve got one as well, probably a size or two too big for you, but it doesn’t matter: you’re just glad to be safe inside, sipping on your hot drink at your friend’s table.

It doesn’t take much for Eddie to come back from his cabin, either. After less than five minutes since he bolted under the pouring rain, the doors of the main room open to reveal his tall figure once again. He strides towards your table, holding something under his arm.

“Theeere we go” he exclaims in his signature sing-song tone once he reaches you - and this time, it’s his turn to place a pile of papers on the table, neatly collected in a black ring binder.

“What’s that?” Robin curiously asks, throwing at Eddie an extra camp t-shirt that he can change into. As he peels off the wet one he’s been wearing so far and exchanges it with the dry one, you force yourself not to stare.

Gareth and Jeff’s eyes widen and smile, as they seem to recognize the contents of the binder. “This one” Gareth states, his dreamy stare fixed on the closed folder, “is a gate to a whole other world”.

“Are we really going to play?” Jeff asks Eddie with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. However, you, Robin and Steve still don’t know what they’re talking about.

“Given that all other activities for the day just went into a literal drain and I was already working on a new quest for Hellfire” Eddie explains, gesturing with his hands in the air as he sits down on the wooden bench, “I thought it might be cool to try out a short campaign and make this forced camp vacation a little more fun. So, fellow counselors” he announces, his eyes going from Steve to Robin and finally setting on you, “what do you say about embarking on a Dungeons and Dragons adventure?”

“Was that what you were writing a few nights ago?” Steve asks him, ignoring the proposal and earning a glare from you and Robin.

Eddie looks a bit sidetracked. “Maybe” he replies, opening up the binder and extracting three sheets of paper. “I was setting up your characters. If you want to play, that is”.

“I’d love to” you quickly say, causing Eddie to smile brightly. He hands your character sheet over to you, his fingers brushing against yours as a few tiny butterflies start fluttering their wings in your stomach. You’ve always secretly wanted to try the game, and knowing that Eddie set everything up for you to play makes this even more special.

“Me too” Robin echoes you with a shrug, reaching out towards Eddie to grab her character sheet. You’re a bit surprised, because that doesn’t really strike you as something she’d like, but you’re happy that she wants to join - happy that Eddie won’t feel disappointed or judged by your best friend.

Now everyone’s gaze is on Steve, who still hasn’t replied - but it doesn’t take long for him to nod hesitantly.

“Alright, let’s see how this works” he says, taking the last character sheet and furrowing his eyebrows as he starts reading it, “maybe I will finally know what Henderson likes so much about it”.

It takes a while to get used to it - especially because Steve and Robin are a bit hesitant in the beginning, while you realize that your knowledge of how the game works is definitely too vague. But after a careful explanation on behalf of Eddie, Gareth and Jeff and Eddie’s incredible DM and storytelling skills, you quickly find yourselves immersed into a new, fantasy world.

Your character is a half-elf bard - just as you told Eddie during the hike, and the fact that he remembered warms your heart a little bit. He also managed to pick the perfect choice for your friends: Steve, of course, is a human paladin, while Robin is a halfling rogue.

You end up playing for the rest of the day, the rain providing the perfect background noise as you explore secret caves, kill evil goblins and raid wooden boxes that reveal hidden treasures and gold. You manage to go on a little longer even after dinner, and what’s most surprising is that Steve’s the one who starts booing, followed suit by Jeff and Gareth, as soon as Mr. Smithson announces the lights out.

“Shit, I almost had that asshole” Robin grunts, referring to a hobgoblin she was about to slay with her longsword, “I just needed one more attack roll”.

“Next time try to use your weapon with two hands” Gareth suggests, “you’ll do more damage”.

“I also wonder what’s hidden behind that locked door” you excitedly say, “I don’t think I can deal with the cliffhanger”

Eddie’s eyes glitter with happiness at the sight of your enthusiasm. “Fear not, brave adventurers” he declares with a satisfied grin as he starts collecting all his papers and files back into the binder, his gaze proudly lingering on you, “the quest will continue”.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

Also, thank you to @eddiesbirdie for suggesting the concept of Eddie getting lost in the woods :)

Taglist • @meaganjm @emwhite1 @juggernort @final-girllll @mermemerald @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @stardustworlds @eddiesbirdie @carolineesnell @djarintreble @earthtokace @copycatkillerfics @purpleorbvoid @shinydixon

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #camp lovers lake #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson au #stranger things x you

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dribs-and-drabbles · 1 year

Text

With two days to go I'm still NOT making any predictions (and of course I absolutely have not done up till now either) but I will make a list of things that I think we all hope will happen.

First, though, the results of my little poll showed an InkPa kiss high on the feral-inducing scale, followed closely by the finger lick scene and shenanigans from Korn, Wai, and manipulative Pran. (image description under the cut below)

So along with the above, here are some more things I hope we'll get:

More of Pat's shirts for me to go feral over

Uncle Tong (and Junior!)

Nong Nao

More hand-holding and HUGS

Pat references the way Pran smells

Pran wears one of Pat's sleeveless shirts

A Nivea micellar face wipe scene (bonus points if it's InkPa romantically and infinity points if it's Korn/Wai platonically)

A canon inkjet printer scene

A cameo by Pran's senior, P'Joke, who knows Pat and Pran did not break up (although he's probably graduated...as has Toto)

A cameo by Aof! (infinity bonus points if it's Jojo)

A scene at a noodle truck

Continuity of the colour-coding in the series

They somehow reference Pat getting shot

Ming is NOT a terrible human (not holding out hopes for this)

Dissaya suspects Pat and Pran are still together and is chill about it (nor this).

I realise I haven't written anything about the crossover with atots but that's because I just can't imagine in what way Pat and Pran will interact with Phupha and Tian 🤯 Hoo boy this is going to be GOOD. (add on if there's more you want to see!)

The image is a list of poll options with the results from 60 votes as percentages:

We finally get to know when Pran's birthday is - 1.7% (I'm stupidly excited and hopeful about this one!)

The architecture and engineering groups become one united squad - 6.7 (I will lose it over this)

Korn and Wai's friendly shenanigans to hide Pat and Pran's relationship - 15% (and this)

The Soft Looks between Pat and Pran - 10%

The finger-lick scene - 16.7%

Pran being a manipulative gremlin - 15%

Pat being a simp for Pran - 6.7%

Ink and Pa kiss - 18.3%

The absolute AU fanfiction storyline which I've probably read on ao3 - 8.3%

How the show will handle Korn and Rang in the crossover with atots - 1.7% (please, I want both characters in the episodes!)

#bad buddy #our skyy 2 #I've probably forgotten things. as I always do #so I might come back and edit the original #we'll see...

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beardedmrbean · 2 years

Note

Hey, I'm the french guy that was complaining about job requirements being useless, and got denied a job because my name was the same as the company's. Turns out I have another fun story to share.

A while ago I applied to a job titled "Bilingual administrative assistant", the job was literally just handling the phones but with an english requirement, being able to use Office, and having knowledge of financial mathematics to be able to assist management and/or accounting. I have a degree specifically in financial mathematics, so this should be perfect, right ?

An hour ago I got a thinly veiled condescending response saying "Hi, thank you for applying, however your profile does not match the job description because of your lack of experience" (they wanted 1 year on a similar job, which they all do, so that kinda defeats the point)

... So I sent an equally thinly veiled condescending response basically saying "Hi, you're a moron", but 1. fully in what they'd call "professional english", and 2. in a whole ass essay. Here's a small part :

"I am, of course, not asking for a second chance. Considering you went through my resume (or didn’t, in which case that’s on you) and decided that I was not a good enough candidate, I have reason to assume I am well past that point. Furthermore, I would refuse the job even if I was accepted, due to the obvious fact that this company is unthorough and has very little respect for job seekers. What I am doing, is making sure that my abilities are actually seen for what they are, and not what the very standardized and dehumanizing process of job applications will show an apathetic HR rep who will not bother looking further."

I don't know why I was so furious about it, there's something about not just asking, but DEMANDING a year of experience on a similar job that just gets to me. Especially when 1. Everyone does that. There's not a single company out there that will hire a secretary, sorry, "billingual administrative assistant", without asking for that 1 year experience (meaning that whatever "high value" candidate you wanted is gonna be applying to literally every other job out there) and 2. 1 year experience doesn't mean anything, when I've been hired as a programming consultant for developing HMIs, to replace someone... with 3 years experience, who couldn't figure out how to use the thing. The only reason to demand a year of experience is to keep out the new graduates & people entering the job market.

All that made me want to burn their company to the ground (figuratively) so instead of that I compromised by sending an essay telling them their HR rep is an idiot (if the idiot can even read it lmao), and doing what I can to screw them over on the internet.

So, uh, yeah, very productive afternoon I guess.

That excerpt was wonderfully passive aggressive, great skill to have being able too communicate like that.

As for the experience thing, I remember someone commenting on a job listing that wanted, I can't remember so i'll just say 5 years experience with a particular computer language or something like that, problem was that particular language was only 3 years old.

My numbers are wrong, but you get the idea.

Whole thing at this point is lunacy, I get that they don't want to have to contend with the learning curve for something like that but someone has to eventually.

That or people are going to just start lying, which if that's the route they take should probably say it was for some non profit that's gone belly up so nobody can confirm one way or the other.

wink wink

#anonymous

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integratedprimarycare · 10 months

Text

Should Primary Care Behavioral Health Clinicians and Specialty Mental Health Clinicians be Paid Differently?

This is a question that is coming up, or should be, much more these days. For a long time, primary care behavioral health clinicians (BHCs) and specialty mental health clinicians (MHCs) were likely to work in different organizations. Different places pay differently, nothing to discuss. In general, medical settings have more resources than mental health settings, so there was a general pattern of higher pay in primary care. With the rise of ACOs and the growth of multi-state private health systems, it is becoming more common for both types of clinicians to be working in the same system and so be under one payment system. Human Resources departments see workers with the same licensure, same degrees, same disciplinary designations, and put them on the same pay scales, what’s to discuss?

By BHC, I mean clinicians who work in primary care as part of the team. They respond the day, often at the time, a patient with BH needs is identified. They tend to address immediate issues that are barriers to the patient’s functioning. They aim to return the patient to full management by the PCP in a few contacts, while standing ready for longitudinal relationships with patients when new needs arise.

By MHC, I mean clinicians working in a specialty mental health model, no matter what the setting, that offer psychotherapy over longer periods of time targeting specific diagnoses.

One of my current professional joys is teaching a course called Primary Care Behavioral Health Leadership, for the many BH clinicians who have been elevated to leadership positions as the number of BHCs in their organization grew big enough to need a manager. In our regular discussions of the BHC/MHC workforce shortage, a new pattern has emerged: BH clinicians wanting to transfer out of primary care to specialty mental health work. The most common reason is that primary care behavioral health is much harder. It goes faster. They have to see more different types of patient needs. Working on a team, communicating with team members, and making care management calls are challenging and take time. And they are always needing ongoing training in medical issues and approaches they didn’t learn in graduate school. Specialty mental health is easier in that it is more predictable and often has lower productivity targets. If the pay is the same, why go through the stress of learning a new approach?

The case for differential pay is captured in this one comparison: A mental health clinician generally is ready to do the basics of the job after the training they got in graduate school. Successful functioning as a BH clinician in primary care takes additional training and a reorientation of perspective toward teamwork.

I’m not recommending differential pay just for a different title. There are lots of programs where the "BHC"s function like MHCs (in a room most of the day, fully scheduled with patients, seeing mostly patients with MH issues). These programs tend to have few warm handoffs and long waiting lists with lots of no-shows. The job description should be for true BHC functioning, and include some sort of competency standard with internal training to keep everyone learning. In that setting, I think the differential should be applied.

If you haven’t stopped reading yet and might want to look at job descriptions below. These are descriptions of MHC and BHC positions, with the assumption that clinicians would use the MHC either as a professional landing place and/or as a stepping stone to the BHC position. The salary differential would determine whether the latter would become a common career pathway.

Behavioral Health Clinician 1 (BHC) – Licensed – Example of job description from FM Residency clinic in Oregon. https://www.indeed.com/q-Behavioral-Health-Consultant-jobs.html?vjk=f689e6a2a317b4dc Job Specifics

Consult and collaborate on a multidisciplinary team to provide integrated on-site care, recommendations, and feedback to medical providers and allied staff

Have a clearly distinguished role from specialty mental health therapist practice model

Maintain a schedule and a presence in a clinic session that makes access by PCPs easy. (One metric of the BH service will be visits with patients on the same day as their PCP visits.)

Practice in a population-based practice management strategy with flexibility to be interrupted to respond to urgent/emergency situations and “curb-side consults”

Utilize brief behavioral visits (20-30 minutes), most commonly in the range of 1-6 visits, which are provided in the primary care practice area and are seen as a routine primary care service.

Provide assessments, screening, or intervention services for about 5 patients per ½ day clinic with the primary goal of assisting the primary care providers with identification, treatment, and management of mental and behavioral health concerns.

Consult on psychological distress, behavioral problems/conditions, exacerbating chronic medical conditions including chronic pain.

Offer targeted behavioral health and patient engagement skills training to members of other disciplines and trainees.

Job Requirements

Doctoral Level Degree (Ph.D. or Psy.D.) in clinical psychology from an APA accredited institution – Health Psychology emphasis preferred; OR LCSW training (or other master’s level license) and significant primary care BH experience. After 1/1/24, includes LMHC and LMFT

2 to 3 years of experience in behavioral health

Expertise in working with patients who have chronic health conditions

Behavioral Health Clinician 2 (MHC) – Licensed – This role is envisioned as a transition role for clinicians who have been trained in specialty mental health work and have their only experience in specialty settings. There would be no timetable for their advancement to BHC 1. Some may choose to remain in a BHC 2 position while others would want to take on additional functions and demonstrate competencies for the BHC 1 role. They would see patients who are designated for and willing to accept a therapeutic protocol for anxiety, depression, substance use, or other specified disorders. They could function in the therapist/care manager role for the Collaborative Care Model. BHC 2 clinicians will be expected to see 3 patients in a ½ day clinic and will be scheduled with 45 min. appointment times.

Job Requirements

Doctoral Level Degree (Ph.D. or Psy.D.) in clinical psychology from an APA accredited institution; OR LCSW training (or other master’s level license). After 1/1/24, includes LMHC and LMFT

Preferred but not required - experience in behavioral health in medical setting.

#patient-centered care #integratedprimarycare #behavioral health

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

Text

Aberration - Chapter 1

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Yay, here’s the first chapter of my new AU! It might be a little slower at first but it’ll pick up the further we get into it. So I hope you like this!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist/Character profiles

~~~

In this world, mutations, renamed as ‘Quirks’, are abnormal. Only about 5%-8% of the world population are known to have these so called ‘Quirks’. You are a graduate of one of the most prestigious science tech schools in the country. You’ve been selected to work for a secret scientific research facility that houses some of the most notorious criminals in the nation. Besides their crimes, what makes these individuals incredibly dangerous are their mutations. After meeting these individuals, they seem to have taking a liking to you. That should make your research and search for the cure all that much easier…

Right?

~~~

Before you stands one of the largest facilities you have ever seen. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart. Adjusting the strap on your bag, you make your way into the research center.

Upon entering, you gasp in wonder. The inside is huge, tall pure white walls that meet at a double paned glass ceiling. In front of you is a wall of security, stretching to accommodate the vast interior of the lobby. You walk up to the nearest security officer and give them your information. Thankfully, you were on a list and after checking you over, you're granted entrance to the building.

That's where you meet a man and a woman, both dressed in white lab coats and carrying clipboards. You bow your head to the two of them and they return the gesture.

"Ms. Y/N, I presume? My name is Shota Aizawa and this is my assistant, Momo Yaoyorozu." The older of the two speak.

You smile at the two. "Yes, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N, L/N, graduate of UA science tech. I am so happy to be here and look forward to working with the two of you."

The younger girl nods and smiles, gesturing behind the two of them. "If you would kindly follow us, we can get started."

~~~

"Ms. Y/N, here's the list of the inmates you will be working with from this point on."

Momo hands you a clipboard containing pictures and descriptions of each individual. Your eyes scan the information on the page in front of you, your brow raising with each word you read. "There is… quite a bit of information on these individuals."

Aizawa nods. "Considering how dangerous the subjects are, it's best to have every detail we can."

You internally cringed at the term 'subject'. These were criminals, yes, but they were still living breathing people. Noone deserves to be dehumanized, no matter the reason.

Shaking your head of those thoughts, you continue to look over the notes in your hands. One in particular catches your eye. " 'Multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity' and yet he's only deemed as a level 4 danger?"

The doctor looks over your shoulder at the character profile. "Ah, yes. Fumikage Tokoyami. He's an interesting one, to say the least." You wait for him to continue, but seeing as it doesn't seem like he will, you gesture for him to elaborate. "Tokoyami himself is actually fairly harmless and incredibly cooperating, which is why he gets a level 4 only. However…" Aizawa looks down the hall of the facility to a door near the end. "Dark Shadow is deemed a level 9."

Your eyes shoot up in shock. "Dark Shadow? A level 9? Explain."

"Dark Shadow is his mutation. It's a completely sentient being that he harbors inside of him. Highly dangerous, more so if there is darkness." He looks back at you. "I'll let him explain the reason why he was instituted. He always prefers to explain the story himself."

The more Aizawa explains Tokoyami's situation, the more your excitement builds up, wanting desperately to meet this man. This was such an interesting mutation and you couldn't wait to hear everything he had to tell you. You take a breath to calm your childish manner and clear your throat.

"If it's alright with you, sir, I'd like-" You look down at your clipboard once again. "'Inmate 06' to be the first one I meet with."

Aizawa nods and writes something down in his notebook. "Very well. Follow me this way please."

You follow the doctor down the long white hallway, your excitement growing with each step. Along the way, you notice each door on the facility that lines either side of the stretched hall. Each door had a narrow window towards the top and a small number engraved underneath. You don't take too much notice and keep following the doctor to your destination. However, an eerie feeling makes you freeze in your tracks.

You slowly rotate your head and look at the inmate's door you stopped next to. The color drains from your face as you see two ice blue eyes peering right into yours. It felt like your breath was stolen, a hint of fear and anxiety built up within you from this intense gaze. After what felt like hours, you snap your gaze back to Aizawa and Momo, who were standing in front of a door you were also supposed to be at.

"I would highly advise you to keep cautious while you are in this facility. While we keep all inmates in cuffs that neutralize their mutations, the technology has not been 100% perfected yet and parts of their powers may leak out. That is why we have additional precautionary measures in place for each inmate." Aizawa gives you an impartial look as you walk over. "Now. The only special precaution with Inmate 06 is the lights must stay on at all times. There are no light switches in his cell, so nothing should go wrong. But like I said, always stay cautious."

You nod your head at the doctor's words and turn to face the door. Aizawa places a hand onto the keypad next to the door, scanning his prints before buzzing and opening the door. You give the man one last nod before making your way inside the room. The room itself is bare. White floors, white walls and an equally white ceiling. Nothing was in there except a desk with a chair and a bed.

On top of that bed sat a young man with the body of a human and the head of a crow. Your eyes widen in awe at the beautiful being in front of you. Tokoyami tilts his head and gives you a curious look.

"Oh. Hello, there. I've never seen you before."

The deep voice of the man shocks you. You bow your head and give the bird man a smile. "Hello, Tokoyami. My name is Y/N. I'm the new scientist at this facility. I'm here to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure. I hope we can be friends."

Tokoyami blinks. "You want to be… friends? With us?"

"Yeah, of course. Why not?" Your smile never leaves your face.

"Well, maybe because we're all… felons? The greater majority of us being murderers?"

"I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance." You gesture to the desk chair, silently asking if you could sit. The man nods and you greatly take your seat. "Now, would you ever be so kind as to answer a few questions for me, Tokoyami? I would like to get to know you a little better." You take out your pen and notebook, opening to a fresh page.

Tokoyami nods again and you give him a smile. "Just a few standard questions first. Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"Fumikage Tokoyami, age 22, October 30th."

"What is the name of your quirk and how does it work?"

Tokoyami fiddles with the quirk-cancelling cuffs around his wrists at the mention of his quirk but answers anyway. "It's called Dark Shadow. It's a fully sentient shadow that resides inside my body. It can come out when I call call it or it can show itself on it's own. But it's always connected to me and cannot be separated. It…" Tokoyami takes a breath. "It gets stronger the darker my surroundings are. So the less light, the less control I have over it. If it gets too dark, it completely takes over me, no longer under my control."

The longer you listen to him, the wider your eyes get and the more they shine in wonder. "That is incredible! To have that kind of quirk is truly fascinating!"

Hearing your words of praise would have made Tokoyami blush, if he could. He clears his throat in embarrassment. "Why, thank you for those kind words. Though, I doubt having this...quirk, as you say, is all to be impressed about."

You shake your head. "You may not think so, but really, I've never seen anything like it." You excitedly write a few things down before making eye contact with him again. "Now onto my final question of the day. Can you please tell me the reason why you are here?"

Tokoyami stays silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, residing in his thoughts. You clear your throat and he looks up to you. You give him a small, comforting smile and it causes Tokoyami's heart to beat harder. For some unknown reason, he suddenly feels like he can trust you with anything.

"I've been charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder." He sighs, recalling that day. "I was invited to a college party on a date, by someone whom I had grown quite infatuated with. I never really was one to socialize and never really had any friends. But I really liked this person, so I went. At first it was going okay, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then, the host decided that playing truth or dare was the way to go.

So my date dragged me to sit down and join them. Every time I was asked, I always chose truth. And everytime, their questions were about my appearance, my mutation. Laughing at all my answers, mocking my looks, talking about how unnatural I was. The more they asked, the more my anxiety and anger built up. But my stubbornness didn't want to show any weakness, so I stayed.

Finally, I decided to just choose dare instead. At that point, I decided that nothing could be more humiliating than what they've already done." His sharp, red eyes flickered to yours. "Oh, how wrong I was. They dared me to go into the closet with my so-called 'date'. We were shut in and from then, they decided to tell me how this whole thing was a set up, just to humiliate me. That anyone with mutations like myself should just disappear because of how disgusting we are." He spits out that word like it was rotten food. "Remember how I said Dark Shadow gains control in the dark? Well, with my anger rising and the fact that it was almost pitch black in that closet, I lost control of myself and Dark Shadow took control of me. Next thing I remember, I was standing in the middle of the college dorm party, blood painting the floors, the walls, and the entirety of my class slaughtered."

You almost dropped your pen in shock but regained your composure. You give the poor young man a sad smile. He sighs and finishes off his explanation. "I was arrested and charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity, considering I was technically not in my right state of mind at the time."

The two of you sit there in silence, basking in all this new-found information. You close your notebook and set your pen down, facing Tokoyami directly. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with the way you look or your quirk. Just because it isn't the societal norm, doesn't mean it's disgusting or wrong. Remember that."

Tokoyami blinks in surprise."Um, thank you." Those were the only words he could say, as how shocked he was at what you said.

You tilt your head and stare at him. "If I may ask, would I be able to feel your head? I'm very curious as to what your feathers feel like. It would greatly help my research as well."

"Oh. U-um, yeah. Sure."

You move to gently sit next to Tokoyami, so as to not startle him too much. You slowly lift your hand and place it on his head, eyes lighting up as you card your fingers through his feathers. "Oh wow, they're so soft!"

Tokoyami's heart speeds up, his feathers ruffling at your touch. He gazes at you with something akin to admiration. No one was ever gentle with him like this before. After another few seconds, you retreat your hand, Tokoyami almost whimpering at the absence.

"Well, I better get going. I have quite a few more things to do today before my shift is over." You gather up your things and bow your head at the half bird boy. "I greatly appreciate your time and look forward to our future sessions. Have a good rest of your day!" You smile at Tokoyami before heading back to the door and signaling Aizawa to open it.

"Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I look forward to meeting with you again." Tokoyami watches you leave his room. Once you're gone, he runs his hand through his feathers, imagining they were your fingers.

As the door closes, you turn to Aizawa who gives you a disappointed look.

"What?"

"You touched the inmate. Why in the hell would you do that?"

You place your hand on your hip and give the doctor a stern look. "I was curious about his mutation and wanted to see how it felt."

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. "We try to avoid any physical contact with any of the inmates, as it may trigger something deep within them. Remember, Y/N. Every single one of these individuals are dangerous and unstable. Any abnormal behavior could result in catastrophic consequences."

You sigh and shake your head, giving him a chaste nod. "Yes, Sir. You're right. I promise to heed your warning and modify how I work."

The doctor looks satisfied as he turns on his heel and walks further down the long hallway. You quickly follow to keep up. "Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

~~~

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We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 6: Saint Petersburg]

You are a Russian grand duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You (sometimes) hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Language, incompetent flirting, ANGST, people being snakes, descriptions of violence, historical topics like famine and war.

Word count: 6.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore @mellowfellowyellow @peculiareunoia @mischiefmanaged71 @fancybenjamin @anne-white-star @theonlyone-meeeee @witchlyboo

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you when I say that I have been very very preoccupied with work and other real-life commitments, and that sadly my writing has been neglected as a result. But now I’m back with Chapter 6! I won’t make any ambitious promises but I will say that while my unclaimed time and energy are rare these days, my love for these characters is not, and I hope to be able to update more frequently going forward.

A massive, resounding THANK YOU!!!!! to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, and/or commented. I read and cherish every single piece of feedback from readers. You make my world go ‘round.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“You’re getting really good at that.”

There’s a smile in Ben’s voice—deep and dark like the mouth of a well—as he leans over me to look closer, one hand resting on my shoulder, cloaked in smoke and aftershave and soap that smells like the vast evergreen sea of the Russian taiga. We’ve been in Saint Petersburg for nine days. Our ship’s departure keeps getting delayed—due to coal shortages, apparently—but Ben is confident that we’ll finally set sail tomorrow. I’m sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment where the British ambassador has arranged for us to stay, practicing my typing as slate-grey morning light streams in and occasional raindrops plink against the windows, tapping out a synopsis of Tarzan of the Apes in Italian. I’ve finished reading the book several times over, but can’t bring myself to part with it; it’s one of so few things I still have from home.

“Yes indeed.” I’ve graduated from tentative stabs with my index fingers to more or less fluid progress. “Just in time to arrive in London and never have to use a typewriter ever again in my entire life.”

Joe glances up from his cappuccino. He’s been tending it like a fretful infant for the better part of an hour: brewing the espresso, frothing the milk, sprinkling it with nutmeg and cinnamon. It’s a vestige of Joe’s upbringing in Italy, he says, and one that he’ll bring along with him to America like a suitcase of clothes and letters and photographs. “Not planning to work once you marry this oh-so-dignified aristocrat who must not be named, eh?”

Ben recedes from me like low tide and goes to the sink, where he slams silverware and porcelain plates around under the guise of washing them. I avoid Joe’s scrutinizing eyes and take a sip of my own beverage: hot tea, still steaming, Russian Caravan, with three heaping teaspoons of sugar. “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t allow that,” I say demurely.

“Allow it?” Joe replies.

“Well he’ll expect me to be home, of course. Tending to the estate and the social calls and the charity functions and…before too long, I suppose…within a year or two…” The words feel unnatural to me, like the name of a stranger, but I force them out. “The children.”

Ben stabs wet silverware into the drying rack; clangs ring in the air like birdsong. Joe doesn’t seem to notice. “Ah, so you want children, Lana bella donna?”

This strikes me as an odd question. No one has ever suggested that such a thing might be contingent upon my own preferences. “Yes, obviously.”

Joe’s forehead crinkles. There’s a drippy moustache of cappuccino foam coating his upper lip, dotted with flakes of nutmeg and cinnamon like freckles on white skin. “What’s so obvious about that?”

“Surely every man, and particularly a man of great importance, requires sons to carry on his legacy.” I may not know much about the world, but of this I am certain; half of my parents’ lives have been spent either in active pursuit or painstaking preservation of an heir. And perhaps if Alexei was a different sort of boy—or if he had been followed by healthy sons—then the Russian people might have cultivated enough affection for Mother to spare us our present hardships. Alas, that is a thread of fate that none of us will ever be able to touch.

“Perhaps,” Joe muses. “But you still haven’t told me what that has to do with you.”

I dislike when he does this, when he needles me with duplicitous questions. Joe smirks connivingly and I frown back. He knows about me, of course; or, rather, he knows something. He knows that I am Russian by birth, wealthy, rather sheltered, of some political significance. He has surmised all of this himself, although he never makes the mistake of asking for confirmation. Sometimes it scares me how much he sees. I say pointedly: “I am very much looking forward to having children, Joseph Mazzello.”

“Si, si, whatever you say, signora,” Joe concedes, still smirking. He mops the cappuccino foam from his face with a red handkerchief that makes me think of Christmas: holly and velvet and ballgowns and wine. Since our arrival in Saint Petersburg, strangely enough, I’ve rarely found myself yearning for London anymore. Fantasies of twirling with my sisters in glittering palace ballrooms have been quietly replaced with the mundane details of my new life with Ben and Joe: card games by the small crackling fireplace, clandestine strolls on the banks of the Neva River, coating our inexpert hands with ghostly flour and violet beet juice as we stumble through recipes from a tattered cookbook I found in the marketplace. I long to see my family again, of course. I miss them like pieces of myself, my ribs and nerves and heart. But I sometimes wish that I could pull them into this little two-bedroom apartment, into a life where we could be simple, peaceful, anonymous, honest. And weren’t those the moments that were always happiest for Papa and Mother anyway, when they were tucked away in the corner of a study or a garden, their hands soft on each other’s faces, untroubled by the demands and judgments of the world?

But this dream is a brick in a road that leads nowhere. I resume my typing. “In any case, it’s not as if women have an abundance of choice in the timing or number of their children.”

Joe hesitates. “Well…there are…some opzioni, no?”

“What kinds of options?”

“Ah…ah…well…you know…ah…” Joe glances at Ben for help. Ben’s back is to us as he continues scrubbing dishes in that brooding, aggressive sort of way. “Non importa,” Joe mumbles at last. Never mind.

I reply, with lofty confidence, my fingers clicking over the typewriter keys: “In my estimation, a man requires both physicality and heirs, neither of which a dutiful wife could ever deny him. Would ever want to deny him, I mean. There’s no choice involved for the woman.”

“You have a choice,” Ben says suddenly. He turns back to look at me, a slick wet plate in his hands. “Childbirth is dangerous. It takes life as easily as it gives it. You should know you have a choice.”

The three of us stare at each other. Joe slurps his cappuccino. The raindrops against the windows are suddenly very loud. Ben and I never talk about that kiss on the train that brought us to Saint Petersburg, but we do talk about other things: his family, my family, our interests, our fears, our dreams. Sometimes it feels a bit like traversing a minefield—me trying so desperately not to seem cloistered and naïve, Ben biting back his impatience, his cynicism—but more often than that it feels like a great relief, like letting someone help you carry an armful of books or firewood or stones, something that could so easily escape you and clatter to the floor. Now, Ben is looking at me with more than a glimmer of that ferocity I’d been so convinced he was growing out of. He’s waiting, I realize, but I don’t know how to respond; I don’t fully understand what he means.

“There are…ways to prevent children,” Joe says rather bashfully, without meeting my eyes, pushing around his empty cappuccino cup with his knuckles. “Things the man can use. Things the woman can use too, if she is so inclined. But I imagine that’s not something they teach ladies of your...” He searches for the right word with a contemplative sweep of his right hand. “Posizione sociale.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” I expect to feel myself blushing—that hot roar of blood, streaked with scandal and shame that is so painfully childish—but I don’t. I’m thinking that I want to know more. I’m wondering if my sisters know anything about this, if my mother does. I’m wondering if my future husband ever would have told me.

Ben’s face clears, clouds heaved away from the sun by a breath of cold wind. “What do you want to do today?” he asks me. “It’s your last day in Saint Petersburg. In all of Russia, come to think of it. Quite possibly ever.”

“So you keep saying.”

“So I’m promising. This time tomorrow, tugboats will be dragging us all out into the Gulf of Finland.”

“Into the future,” Joe murmurs contemplatively. “Into new worlds.”

“What do you want to do?” Ben asks me again, drying his hands with a dishtowel. Kaleidoscopic soap bubbles pop noiselessly in the kitchen sink, looking very much like a snowfall.

“The same thing I always want to do.”

“Again?” Ben feigns exasperation. “Get a hobby, parasite.”

“I have plenty. You’re just too poor to do any of them with me.”

“Oppressing the working class isn’t a hobby.”

I smile at him. He smiles back. Joe chuckles to himself and goes to wash out his cappuccino cup. The apartment has two bedrooms: one for me, one for Ben, and then Joe has claimed the couch in the living room as his own little dominion strewn with mismatched blankets and pavlova crumbs and an illogical amount of pillows. Saint Petersburg is the first time I’ve had a room to myself since I met Ben, the first time I’ve slept alone. And it’s the strangest thing; after all those nights I fell asleep wishing I could get away from Ben, now when I stare up at the ceiling in that soft, warm, spacious bed—counting each peeling flake of paint, each rattling of a carriage passing by on the cobblestone streets outside—I find myself missing him.

My gaze drops down to Ben’s hands, to the whisper-faint latticework of countless white scars that stipe the backs of them. My eyes catch there, and so does my mind, my thoughts churning with soundless, mystified curiosity, oysters mulling over grains of sand until they’re pearls.

“What?” Ben asks.

I tear my eyes away, but not before Joe whirls to see what I’m looking at. We exchange a glance filled to the brim with unspoken things. Joe says to me in Italian: “He was an apprentice at a newspaper office when he was a boy. His boss would beat the hell out of him each time he made a mistake. Took a hazel switch to his hands until they bled all over the keyboard.”

I know I’m not supposed to react, but I can feel my lips part, can feel the gasp escape through my teeth.

Ben frowns at Joe reprovingly. “What did you tell her?”

“Niente,” Joe replies with a casual shrug. Nothing.

“You ready?” Ben asks me as he tosses the dishtowel aside.

I nod, forcing myself to smile, willing myself not to look down at his hands again. I look up at his face instead, which is increasingly easy to get lost in.

“Alright,” Ben says. He presses his thumbprint into a scattering of coffee grounds that Joe left on the kitchen counter, comes to me, draws a smudge like warpaint under each of my eyes, rubs them in until I am sufficiently stained. And I expect Ben to be amused, to laugh at me, as he often does when he gets to strip away those last remnants of royalty that I cling to with an instinctive sort of desperation; but Ben doesn’t laugh. He just studies me, solemn now, his eyes on my face, on those smudges as if he’s not quite satisfied with them, his hand hovering and contemplative…and then he drops it. “Now we can go.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Outside the rain has slowed to a mist-light drizzle. We stop by the stable a block from the apartment building so Ben can visit Kroshka and feed her a handful of sugar cubes—she greets him with an enthusiastic nicker, me with flat yet forbearing, lazy-eyed apathy—and then we continue on to the marketplace. My face is dirty, my hair secured in an untidy braid (I’m able to do it myself these days, although Ben’s handiwork remains superior), my body buried under a coat and hat and mittens and the forest-green scarf I bought in Moscow. I am somebody that no one would look twice at, and that is precisely how it needs to be. At the moment, I’m barely thinking of myself at all.

There’s a woman who sells hot loaves of bread out of the back of a donkey cart. She lost two sons in the Battle of the Vistula River, and another came home changed; he doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t speak, he only kneads dough with a dreadful, blank-eyed, eternal sort of patience and ducks beneath the kitchen table each time someone drops a pan. There’s a chebureki vendor who was raised on a small farm in Siberia, and when the harvests failed the peasants there would eat the horses and then the dogs and then the rats, and if the winter was long and vicious enough then some families—in the dark and quiet of the night, when not even God could see them—would choose one child to consume so that the rest might live. There’s a man who lost his legs in the Second Battle of the Masurian Lakes; he knits wool blankets from his wheelchair, the great heaps of fabric obscuring the gaps where flesh and bone had once been. There are widows and mothers and wives, weather-beaten fathers and hollowed-out sons. There are three little boys, orphans, who sell tiny wooden figurines that they carved themselves. Each day I clear out their inventory—the apartment is littered with miniature bears, wolves, reindeer, stars, castles, moons, willow trees, sharks, crosses, women cradling babies, farmers wielding sickles—and the youngest two cheer and clap and giggle for me; but the oldest just smiles, his eyes sunken and wet, his lips quivering, as he counts the coins and thanks me in a whisper.

I drift between the marketplace stalls clasping these people’s hands, offering soft murmurs of condolence, drinking them in like the earth soaks up rain. I don’t always enjoy listening to their stories; they are harrowing, and deeply sad, and colored with an ingrained distrust of the Russian government and military, and most of all the man who was once the tsar. I tell them that I am a typist for the British ambassador, and I ask what it is that they want the world to know, what it is that they wish for. They all tell me, more or less, the same things: peace, bread, change, hope. And they say that they want my father dead.

Ben always watches me as I go about this daily ritual, from a distance of course, although not one so great that he could not close it in seconds. I’ve learned in my time with him that there are many different sorts of light to his eyes: fury, of course, and annoyance, but also laughter, compassion, intrigue, gentleness. And there’s a new one too, one that I catch glimpses of but haven’t figured out yet. It’s not quite sadness, but it’s not quite fondness either. Perhaps it is something like loss.

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Ben says when I return to him at last, stuffing my purchases into a knapsack and slinging it over his shoulder. We follow the Neva River back to the apartment, walking with slow meandering strides, in no rush at all. Where we’re staying is on the opposite side of the city from Sir Buchanan’s offices, and although Ben has made several trips to see the ailing ambassador, I never have. There are too many employees who might recognize me from their days meeting with Papa, too many people who might see a young woman the same age as the Romanov daughters disappearing into a government building and start asking questions. “It’s risky. And it’s unnecessary.”

“On the contrary, I find it to be extremely necessary.”

“How’s that?”

“Because they’re my people,” I say simply. “They might not know it, and they might not want to be, but they still are. They always will be. And I think I ought to learn something about them in the event that I can one day use my status to their advantage, don’t you?”

“Whatever happened to assuming your husband’s kingdom and people and religion and whatever else? I thought you were looking forward to discarding the nuisance that is having an autonomous personality.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t acquired a husband quite yet. And in any case, I’ve reconsidered some things. Perhaps a heart can live divided, and there is a piece of me that will always be Russian. That’s a comforting notion. It makes the thought of leaving easier.”

“Have you reconsidered anything else?”

I have no idea what he means. “Like what?”

Ben pivots immediately. “You’ll miss Russia?” He sounds surprised. “Not the palaces or the memories, but the land itself?”

I shrug, kicking at grey pebbles under a grey sky, thinking of Papa teaching my sisters and me how to play football this past summer, making goals out of garden trellises and running us back and forth all afternoon to distract us from the uncertainties of the world beyond our gilded prison. “It’s home.”

Ben shivers beneath his black coat and shakes his head. “It’s a horrible place. Bleak and brutal and cold. And old somehow, older than anywhere I’ve ever been. The centuries pass but the people stay the same. They’re beasts, like Joe always says. Russia is a hideous, gruesome, unforgiving country. It doesn’t suit you at all.”

I peek over at him. “No?”

He lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes and puffs away at it. “No.”

I flash him an off-kilter, teasing smirk. “Do I perceive the faintest hint of a compliment, Mr. Benjamin Hardy?”

Ben exhales smoke into air that has the biting, metallic taste of impending snow. “You are many things, Your Imperial Highness, but hideous isn’t one of them.”

I try to think of something clever to respond with, but I can’t. I can’t stop myself from beaming either; I hide my face behind my purple wool mittens. Eventually I settle on this: “I love winter.”

“You know, sometimes I forget how inbred the royal families are, but fortunately you’re still here to remind me.”

“It’s a magical time of year!” I object, laughing. “It makes me think of hot chocolate, and carriage rides through the snow, and ice skating on frozen ponds, and Christmas balls…” I realize that Ben would have no such associations, and am abruptly frustrated with myself. I wait for him to say something that will make me feel stupid and sheltered and small. But Ben doesn’t seem to have much venom in him today. He is distracted, almost pensive.

“I don’t like it. I’ve never liked it. It’s a cruel season. It’s like having to watch the whole world die right in front of you.”

“But it always comes back,” I say brightly.

“Sure,” Ben replies. “Some of it. Different versions of it.”

I’m too preoccupied with gazing up at him to keep track of my own feet. I stumble, and Ben grabs my hand and hauls me upright again.

“Watch where you’re going,” Ben snaps. His words are harsh, but his touch is kind; and instead of dropping my mittened hand once I’m steadied, he keeps it in his. And we continue like that all the way home.

Back in the apartment, Joe is pushing open the windows to let the smoke out. There’s some charred monstrosity in a pot on top of the stove, and the sharp almost-winter air has been replaced by suffocatingly potent burned chocolate. Joe begins fanning the pot with an oven mitt, coughing into his sleeve.

“Joe, mate, are you trying to burn the place down or what?”

“I was trying to do something nice!” Joe says. “I thought to myself, it is our last day here, I should make something to commemorate our time together, I should make authentic, delicious chocolate kolbasa, perfecto for showing thankfulness to friends. But no! I’ve suffered a disaster! I will never attempt to bake again. I am cursed. Oh, che brutto.”

“It’s what?” Ben asks me.

“Horrible,” I tell him. “Or ugly, maybe.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that.”

“Beniamino, will you help me with this?” Joe whines. “The chocolate is stuck to the bottom.”

“And whose fault is that?” Ben says, but nevertheless he sets his knapsack down on the kitchen table and goes to examine the pot. “You idiot, you didn’t stir it enough…”

“The only cookbook I had was in Russian!”

“Then you should have waited for me to get back with the Russian person!”

Joe rolls his eyes, hands on his slim hips. “I sincerely apologize for inconveniencing you with my well-intentioned sorpresa.”

“Your attempted arson, you mean?”

“Ben?” I say, and he looks up from the pot he’s elbows-deep in and scrubbing forcefully. There’s something about the flush in his cheeks and the way his hair shags over his eyes that catches the words in my throat, and then I find them again. “I don’t mean to rush you, but when you’re done, could I see my jewels please?”

“Sure,” Ben replies. We came to a truce concerning the Romanov jewels that I smuggled out of Tobolsk and kept hidden until they nearly cost us our lives on the train to Saint Petersburg: I can bring those priceless family heirlooms with me to London, but Ben will be the one to carry them until we get there. The very first purchase I made at the marketplace was a green velvet pouch to keep them in. “In fact, tell you what, why don’t you go in and get them yourself.”

“What, into your room?” I glance at the closed door. It feels invasive somehow to be in there without Ben, pawing through his things, inhaling his cologne, staring at his rumpled sheets. It feels a little too intimate.

“Yeah. They’re under the bed. Just do me a favor and try not to set anything on fire in there.”

“This is abuse!” Joe cries. Ben ignores him and resumes his scrubbing.

Ben’s bedroom is small—much smaller than mine—and dimly-lit, with curtains drawn closed and the overcast sun on the other side of the building. There’s a dresser and a nightstand and an unmade bed only big enough for one. And the room does smell like Ben’s cologne, and there are ghosts of soap and cigarettes and parchment paper too. But it also just smells like him.

Sure enough, when I kneel to peer under the bed I spot the green velvet pouch stowed amidst a nest of luggage. I drag it out, turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and empty the contents of the pouch onto Ben’s unmade bed. I sort through the jewels, making little piles: here are the rubies that Mother pried out of her favorite tiara until her fingertips cracked and bled, here are the diamond earrings that Papa gave me for my fifteenth birthday, here are the amethysts that Queen Victoria gifted Mother on the eve of her wedding, here are the yellow topazes that Alexei always said reminded him of bumblebees, here are the emerald bracelets that glint like pensive green eyes. I do this every day, it’s another part of my ritual. It reminds me of my family, of my purpose, of all the tragic and glorious history that has built me. It makes me feel closer to them, as if I might walk out of this bedroom to find Papa stoking the fireplace and Mother reading on the couch and Alexei wolfing down Russian tea cakes at the kitchen table and Tati asking me if I’d like her to fix my braid.

When I begin to feel less dauntless and more melancholy, I know it’s time to put the jewels away. I carefully place them back in the green velvet pouch and return them to their hiding place under Ben’s bed. And then, just as I’m standing to leave, I spy Ben’s leather-bound notebook on the bed. It’s half-covered by blankets, the pen laying haphazardly beside it and leaving a trail of black ink on the sheets, as if Ben had fallen asleep mid-sentence and let his words tumble right out of those scarred, sturdy hands. The vision makes me smile in the lamp’s amber-sunset light: Ben slipping into whatever he dreams about, all of his edges falling away, lying there vulnerable and young and pure. I wonder if he ever dreams about me. I wonder what he’s written about me. It can’t be too bad, especially not now; we had our growing pains, sure, but now we’re friends. Maybe, sometimes, occasionally, we’re even more than friends. Maybe all those fantasies I’d harbored at the start of our journey hadn’t been so far from the mark after all.

Grinning, conspiratorial, I open Ben’s notebook and flip pages until I show up as a main character. There are a lot of uninteresting logistical details: the roads and railroads, the terrain, the weather, artful descriptions of buildings, strange Russian cultural idiosyncrasies that his readers might be curious about. Of course, he’s clever enough to never write about his true mission in case the notebook was ever to be confiscated; he never mentions the Romanovs, and he never uses my name, real or otherwise. But it’s evident when I enter the picture, because these jagged bursts of commentary start appearing in the margins of the pages, heat-of-the-moment mementos for Ben to include in his future New York Times article, the one that people all over the world will read as they sip their morning coffee, brew their tea, take absentminded bites of their crumb-shedding triangles of burnt toast.

My smile dies as I read further. I turn more pages, devouring them faster and faster, waiting for the words to soften, searching for the point when Ben begins to see me less like an annoyance or an adversary or a burden and more like a friend. I can’t find it; or perhaps it doesn’t exist at all.

What the fuck was she expecting?

She is the epitome of everything wrong with her kind: self-absorbed, self-important, ignorant to the point of cruelty.

Helpless is an understatement; pathetic might work better.

She spent forty minutes brushing her hair this morning. Forty. Fucking. Minutes.

Is she neck-deep in denial, or is she just stupid? Further study is needed.

She’s curiously enthused by the prospect of becoming a broodmare.

She’s going to get me killed.

I can’t fucking stand her.

And if the people want her family dead, well, who could blame them?

I slam the notebook shut and shove it back under the blankets where it came from. And then I stare at the wall: not glaring, not furious, not dazed, just staring, my hands trembling, cold sweat rolling down my spine, trying to force myself not to break down in tears. I’m so goddamn tired of being caught off-guard, of feeling like I’ve lived my entire life miles above the earth in a castle made of clouds. I’m so goddamn tired of crying.

I turn to study my reflection in the mirror hanging over the oak dresser. And I don’t look away until I’ve collected myself, because surely—somewhere beneath my stained skin and unremarkable clothing and marrow-deep despair—there are still the bones built by the ruling houses of Europe, blood that goes back to before the Americas were first penciled into maps, back to when ships could sail past hydras and krakens right off the edge of the world.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” I tell myself in Russian, in a raw whisper. “He can think whatever he wants. He can write whatever he wants. I’m going to London. I’m going to save my family. And then I’m going to be a queen.” I think of David Windsor, the Prince of Wales, and all of his palaces and feasts and gardens and ballrooms, and in my mind I conjure up a victorious smile; but in the mirror, my face doesn’t change at all.

I expect Ben and Joe to immediately see that something is wrong—I rack myself for some sufficiently bland explanation—but they don’t. They’re so engrossed in cleaning up the kitchen and teasing each other that they don’t even notice me. I pour myself a glass of red wine, curl up on Joe’s couch with my nauseous stomach and shivering skin, pretend to read Tarzan of the Apes for the fourth time. Really, I just skim the pages; the words don’t mean anything to me. My skull is full of other words, the words that Ben scrawled in the margins of his notebook, the words he’ll use to convince the world to hate me, the words etched into the chambers of his heart. His body came with no inheritances at all. I wonder what that feels like, what he feels like.

“Hey,” Ben says, rattling me back to the present. “I’m going to check in with Sir Buchanan one last time before we leave tomorrow. You want me to bring back anything?”

“No,” I reply flatly, swigging my wine more than sipping it.

“You sure?”

“Resoundingly.”

Ben furrows his brow at me. Unruly blond curls rest on his forehead. “Okay.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he pulls on his coat and wool hat and heads for the front door of the apartment. I drink my wine the color of blood and stare fixedly at my book that I’m not reading at all and try to appear as regal as possible, untouchable, unattainable, unconcerned with him.

Ben pauses by the door. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Not from you.”

Now he’s angry. Now all that dormant fury is kicking up again. “What’s your problem?”

“Go,” I say flippantly, gesturing with my glass. Wine sloshes inside like waves on the ocean. “And while you’re out there in the streets, in the filth, why don’t you make some friends? Be with your own people. Soldiers and peasants and typists and, what, seamstresses? Milkmaids? Whoever you consider sufficiently insignificant to be deserving of compassion. Because they’re so much more human than I am, right? And who knows. Maybe you could even become a real man and convince one of them to fuck you.”

I’ve never said that word aloud before; I couldn’t even describe exactly what such a thing entails. I’m astonished at how easily it spills out. So is Ben. His eyes are glinting with fierce disbelief, but his voice is level. “I don’t know what you have to be so pissed about. You’re the one with the soon-to-be-fiancé or whatever.”

“Don’t talk to me,” I pitch back, cutting and bitter.

“Too good to mingle with the help, huh? Yeah, right, that’s the spirit. Keep practicing for when you’re the Princess of Wales, cruising around the world and nibbling daintily on prime rib so your husband can still brag about your waistline, stomping on the backs of the people who bled to put you there. You selfish fucking bitch.”

I drain my glass and hurl it at the doorframe. It explodes, I suppose, the same way artillery shells do on the Western Front: deafeningly, jarringly, shrapnel flying everywhere. “Get out!”

Ben’s jaw falls open. I’ve shocked him; maybe I’ve even jolted him into remorse. “Look, wait, I didn’t—”

“Get out,” I hiss, turning away, refusing to look at him so he can’t see the tears slithering down my face. And I wait, and I wait, my throat on fire, embers fanned and glowing.

At last I hear the apartment door open and close, and Ben is gone. I look at Joe. He looks at me. He brings me a handkerchief and I take it, and then I unravel like a dying summer, each thread of warmth and golden light pulled one by one into nowhere. I sob into the handkerchief in great breathless heaves, my body shaking. And I want to be anywhere but here, and yet I also don’t; I want to be in the Winter Palace, I want to be in London, I want to stay in this apartment forever, I want to be somewhere where no one knows who I am, I want to make my family proud, I want to be a princess, I want to be a queen, I want Ben to come back through that door and tell me he didn’t mean it.

“I don’t understand why this has to be so hard,” I moan helplessly. The words pour out of me like a river, like blood. “I don’t understand why it’s so painful.”

Joe’s voice is calm and patient as he stands over me with his hands in his pockets, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You want him and he wants you. But this is an impossibility. And so all that passion curdles to rage.”

I blink up at him through tears. “You’re ridiculous and insane and wrong. Very, very, entirely wrong.”

“Questo è possible,” Joe replies mildly.

But he doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s possible. And then he walks away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s dark outside when I claw my way up from uneasy dreams: my eyes sore, my head pounding, my spirits heavy, anchors dropped into the silt of a harbor. The skies must have cleared; the only thing I can see from my window is the stars. I reach for the half-finished glass of red wine that I left on the nightstand and gulp it down, stray droplets spilling down my face, dignity be damned. Mother can’t see me now. Maybe she’ll never see that same girl who left Tobolsk again. Maybe I’m someone else now, someone harsher, someone messier, someone without the single-minded surety that only a child can know.

There are voices out in the living room, hushed but just a little too careless, just an octave too loud. I wipe the wine from my face with the sleeve of my nightgown and rise to see what the commotion is all about.

I open my bedroom door a crack and peer out into the living room. Joe’s back is to me, but I can see that his hands are gesturing wildly; as I watch, one settles on Ben’s shoulder. Ben is breathing heavily, his eyes wide and shining, the blood hectic in his cheeks.

“Shh, shh, Beniamino, please, amico, we will figure this out—”

“You don’t understand,” Ben says, his palm pressed to his own chest. “I can’t tell her that.”

“You can’t tell me what?” I step out of my bedroom, the door hinges creaking like a scream.

They both gape at me; and for a while no one speaks at all. Then—slowly, deliberately, eyes on the floor, dragging his hands through his windswept blond hair—Ben sits down on the couch and nods for me to follow him. This is a tall order; at the moment, I don’t want to follow him anywhere. But reluctantly, as Joe watches us with his mouth pressed into a thin grim line, I acquiesce. Ben sighs deeply and unsteadily, and then—much to my consternation—takes my hands in his. I try to pull them away, but Ben doesn’t let me.

“What—?”

“Something’s happened,” Ben says.

Instantly, I go still. All the fight vanishes from me. “Is it Alexei?”

Ben doesn’t answer. He just holds my hands and stares at me.

“Is he alright? Was there an accident? Did he have another hemorrhage?”

Ben still doesn’t speak, but he shakes his head.

“Is it…is it Papa?” The horror rises in my chest, arches its back, grows talons and fangs. “Oh god, are they going to execute him? Have they harmed him already? Ben? Ben?”

At last, Ben finds his words. “It’s not Alexei, and it’s not your father,” he says, his voice halting and rasping. “It’s…it’s…it’s all of them.”

“All of them?” I don’t understand. I can’t understand. “What do you mean all of them?”

And then Ben tells me. His words don’t make any sense. They’re in a language I’ve known for years, a language I can speak fluently, a language I routinely dream in. And yet still, even in the midst of all these mortal truths, I can’t comprehend them. His words flit in and out of my hearing, untethered and meaningless. But I can see everything: my family being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, corralled into the bare and drafty basement, positioned against the far wall like a man sentenced to death by firing squad, gutted with bullets and butchered with bayonets, their ragdoll bodies disposed of in some dark and nameless place—thrown down a mineshaft, sunk into an ice-flecked lake, buried in an unmarked grave—leaving only reports too vivid and too terrible to be lies. I can see the bottomless hatred in the guards’ eyes. I can see Papa reaching out to shield Alexei as gunfire fills the room. I can see my sisters clutching each other so tightly that their fingernails pierce the skin.

I open my mouth to scream, to start screaming and never stop. But that’s not what comes out. “I suppose this feels like a great triumph for you.”

“What?” Ben asks, bewildered, leaning in.

I rip my hands out of his. “You never cared about them and you sure as hell don’t care about me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I remember everything you said. And everything you wrote.”

It takes a second, but it hits him. The memory of what he’s penned in his notebook ripples across his eyes, green like the emeralds that once belonged to my mother. I wonder if they cut the jewels out of her dress before they dumped her body somewhere I’ll never be able to find. Then Ben says my name—not Lana, not the one typed on my fraudulent passport, not the name he gave me, but my real name—and he says it so smoothly and so easily that it’s clear it has never left his mind, like it’s been balancing treacherously on his lips all along. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

“But you understand why it did.”

“It’s my job to understand,” he says, his eyes pleading.

“No, it was your job to save us,” I spit at him, lurching to my feet. The floor seems to rock beneath me; there’s a hum roaring in my ears. I’ve never lived in a world where my parents don’t exist. It doesn’t feel real, and yet it burns like I’m dying, it burns fucking everywhere. How is that possible?

Ben is reaching for me. Ben is trying to apologize. Ben is telling me that this doesn’t change our plans to leave Saint Petersburg tomorrow, that he has to get me out of this country, that I’ll be safe in London. He’s swearing that he didn’t believe it would end this way. He’s swearing that he’s not going to let anything happen to me.

I don’t care what Ben says. His promises are worthless. He’s a liar, and he’s a traitor, and he’s hateful, and he might as well have loosed the bullets himself, and I tell him all of this.

And then I go back to my bedroom and lock the door and scream into the blankets until my throat bleeds.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #borhap cast fic

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shirbertshitposts · 3 years

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10 Shirbert Moments from Anne of Green Gables series I think about a lot

In honor of Valentines Day I thought I would post a list of some of my favorite Anne and Gilbert moments. It was hard to narrow it to just ten as I have been going through all nine books and trying to queue posts about all their iconic moments through the series; However I decided to pick the ones that I remember even when I haven’t read the books in a while. I didn’t have the heart to rank them properly so they’re just listed in chronological order.

1. His future must be worthy of its goddess

In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship!

Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.

-- Chapter XIX, Anne of Avonlea

2. For the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze

“What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

“Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”

For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.

Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won.

-- Chapter XXX, Anne of Avonlea

3. I just want YOU

“I have a dream,” he said slowly. “I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and YOU!”

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

“I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?”

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.

They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall—things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood.

“I thought you loved Christine Stuart,” Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

“Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else—there never could be anybody else for me but you. I’ve loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.”

“I don’t see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool,” said Anne.

“Well, I tried to stop,” said Gilbert frankly, “not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn’t—and I can’t tell you, either, what it’s meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to ‘try again.’ Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that.”

Anne laughed—then shivered.

“I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew—I KNEW then—and I thought it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Let’s resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us.”

“It’s the birthday of our happiness,” said Anne softly. “I’ve always loved this old garden of Hester Gray’s, and now it will be dearer than ever.”

“But I’ll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne,” said Gilbert sadly. “It will be three years before I’ll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls.”

Anne laughed.

“I don’t want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I’m quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more ‘scope for imagination’ without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”

Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

-- Chapter XLI, Anne of the Island

4. Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!"

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring. I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!"

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."

-- Chapter 9, Anne of Windy Poplars

5. Suitable Places

"(Are you sure you kiss me in suitable places, Gilbert? I'm afraid Mrs. Gibson would think the nape of the neck, for instance, most unsuitable.)”

-- Chapter 12, Anne of Windy Poplars

6. He narrowly escaped bursting with pride

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife."

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition to kindred spirit.

-- Chapter 6, Anne’s House of Dreams

7. Queen of my heart and life and home

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair—or hair of any color but"—

"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.

"Yes, red—to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne—MY Queen Anne—queen of my heart and life and home."

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.”

-Chapter 12, Anne’s House of Dreams

8. Annest of Annes

But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.

"To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?"

"Happy!" Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. "Gilbert dear, it's been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it's a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside."

-- Chapter 3, Anne of Ingleside

9. I couldn’t live without you

Anne felt like a released bird . . . she was flying again. Gilbert's arms were around her . . . his eyes were looking into hers in the moonlight.

"You do love me, Gilbert? I'm not just a habit with you? You haven't said you loved me for so long."

"My dear, dear love! I didn't think you needed words to know that. I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength. There's a verse somewhere in the Bible that is meant for you . . . 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'"

Life which had seemed so grey and foolish a few moments before was golden and rose and splendidly rainbowed again. The diamond pendant slipped to the floor, unheeded for the moment. It was beautiful . . . but there were so many things lovelier . . . confidence and peace and delightful work . . . laughter and kindness . . . that old safe feeling of a sure love.

"Oh, if we could keep this moment for ever, Gilbert!"

"We're going to have some moments. It's time we had a second honeymoon. Anne, there's going to be a big medical congress in London next February. We're going to it . . . and after it we'll see a bit of the Old World. There's a holiday coming to us. We'll be nothing but lovers again . . . it will be just like being married over again. You haven't been like yourself for a long time. ("So he had noticed.") You're tired and overworked . . . you need a change. ("You too, dearest. I've been so horribly blind.") I'm not going to have it cast up to me that doctors' wives never get a pill. We'll come back rested and fresh, with our sense of humour completely restored. Well, try your pendant on and let's get to bed. I'm half dead for sleep . . . haven't had a decent night's sleep for weeks, what with twins and worry over Mrs. Garrow."

--Chapter 41, Anne of Ingleside

10. Old love light

DR. BLYTHE:- “The old, old love light that was kindled so many years ago in Avonlea ... and burns yet, Anne ... at least for me.”

ANNE:- “And for me, too. And will burn forever, Gilbert.”

-- Page 189, The Blythes Are Quoted

Feel free to respond to this post with any of your favorite shirbert moments that I missed!

#Shirbert #Anne Shirley #Gilbert Blythe #aogg #anne of avonlea #anne of the island #anne of windy poplars #anne of ingleside #anne's house of dreams #the blythes are quoted

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knockknockchicagopd · 3 years

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❛ BLACK JACKET WITH WHITE LETTERS ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Would I be able to request prompt 16 “You're mine. I don't share”. With Hank voight where they go to one of those police events and she works in his unit and they are a couple with her being younger and they dont have to be in police uniform so she wears a really nice dress and as he introduces her and talks to other people he knows, some of the men check her out and try flirt with her and he notices. Could there be a bit of smut if not that's cool to ❤❤

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 3k.

❚❙ Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ General tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @miahelen @jadakiss13 @mcgreads @graniairish @teller258316 @i-love-scott-mccall @tclaerh. Hank Voight tag list: @sophie-writes. If you wanna be added to my tag list, send my a message! ⚡

Fortunately, it's been a quiet day, otherwise, you couldn't deal with a Districts event like the Commanders call them. A meeting that reunites every officer, inspector, detective, and whoever who wears ‘the blue uniform’; including special agents from the FBI. These last ones are the kind of man who pushes you out of your good mood with all that quackery about serving the whole country, the unlimited resources, the missions. Every time you hear a fed talking about how passionate and exciting their jobs are, you just want to punch their faces. Mostly, they're behind a desk while cops like you are protecting the streets of Chicago in the firing line. But, as Burgess and Upton said, it's time to have some fun. And anything else.

Since you don't have to wear that horrible uniform you use at official events, you have chosen a breathtaking black silk dress that fits your anatomy to perfection, falling from your chest, with a spaghetti strap neckline, to your ankles. And a pair of skyscraper highlights on the same color, with the small difference that the heels are tremendously golden. Your back is almost bare, being crossed by four fine strips, knowing it's going to give Hank some trouble. Oh, you're going to have so much fun tonight. You are very sure.

The soft make-up delights your cute, but lethal, outfit on point ready to leave Kim's house accompanied by your friends. You've arranged to meet at the party with the rest of the Unit since your future husband and Antonio needed to be from the start of the event, which means the three of you are going to earn more than some gazes by assisting alone, with no male figures by your sides. As if you need some kind of protection. Men (...).

Stepping out from your car and giving the keys to the parking attendant, who seems he's having a heart attack after watching you walk with so much cockiness and sensuality, you come into the party. The look you exchange with Kim and Hailey as soon as you check the reaction of the assistants, makes you draw a triumphant smile while raising your chin in some kind of greeting. You aren't going to stop now, leading your steps straight to your partners. Ruzek chokes on champagne with his eyes over Burgess, while Hank looks at you over the edge of his glass of bourbon taking a sip.

“You should work like that every day”. Antonio opines welcoming the three of you in his arms.

“I second that, brother”. Jay quickly adds making a toast with his cup of red wine.

“Bet you'd be the one who wouldn't work”. Hailey replies palming his chest, making you giggle.

In the meantime they continue arguing about the dress code, a strong arm gets placed around your lower back to push you somewhat closer, letting his hand fall over your hipbone. You know exactly what it means. Hank isn't the kind of jealous man, who needs to mark his territory like a dog. But you know that sometimes he feels insecure because of the age gap. He trusts you blindly, that's a fact, but he's human; he has fears and you understand it. Putting your left hand on the back of his neck, you caress his scalp almost unnoticeably, tilting your head to leave a gentle kiss on his cheek earning a satisfied grin from him.

“You look really beautiful tonight”. He whispers, watching you sideways as if it's a secret between you two.

“Thank you, Sergeant. I always try to do my best”.

Hank chuckles against his glass about to have a last sip till emptying it. Taking it from his hand, you pull yourself away to go to the bar and ask for two more drinks. You're thirsty and too sober to be a Friday night. Checking some emails on your phone while the bartender serves your order, you can't help but listen to some backtalk about your career. A couple of suited men combed as politicians and wrapped on a strong scent that throws your stomach. You try to ignore them until they're close enough from your position to offer you a hand in a formal greeting.

“Johnson and Derrick. FBI”.

The blonde one looks like a senior official, while the other looks like a newbie. Turning towards both, you come into the forced polite mood to stretch his hand firmly.

“(Y/L/N), Intelligence Unit, gentlemen. A pleasure”.

“The pleasure is ours, detective”.

“Special agent”. You correct him inevitably, even if it sounds arrogant.

“Special agent, of course”. Johnson replies with a nod of his chin. “I've read your file lately. I have no words to describe it. Graduated with excellent grades in Yale, two years in the Army, another undercover in a Cartel… And you also know how to fly a helicopter”.

“If you weren't from the FBI, I could think you've been stalking me like one of your serial killers, sir”. The sarcasm in your tone of voice earns your Unit's attention, very focused on the conversation between the feds and you.

“Who catches a monster without becoming one, right?”

The man introduces a hand under his jacket to offer you his business card. But you don't take it, just looking at it for a second before raising your eyes towards his.

“In your academy shows you to have the big balls to disrespect a Sergeant or a Chief, by trying to steal their officers in front of their faces? Because mine shows us to serve and protect the citizens”.

His gesture changes suddenly in a sight, hearing some chuckles behind you coming from Hailey and Kim. Raising both eyebrows as you don't get any reply back, you just nod before grabbing the two drinks you have asked for when they interrupted you. Coming back to your friends, you can't help but wrinkle your nose in a gesture of disgust earning more giggles from your partners. But it doesn't seem funny for Hank, who you know he's killing them in thousands of ways inside his head.

As the night passes, you notice Agent Johnson's eyes on you with no shame, starting to make you feel uncomfortable. Although you would be delighted to embarrass him in front of everyone, he has had enough from you. But this doesn't end there. Excusing yourself, you step to the terrace almost emptied to have some fresh air, knowing he's going to follow you. Maybe, to insist a little more. He was so interested in recruiting you to miss the chance.

And as you thought, he's that predictable. You don't turn because of his steps coming closer, but because he pretends to clear his throat to claim your attention. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to a side feigning curiosity with a forced smile showing up on your lips.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior. In my profession isn't habitual to find agents of your characteristics”.

“For sure, sir. It doesn't matter”.

“You could have an extraordinary career in the FBI”.

“I already have it where I am. I don't need schedules, cheap suits, and an earpiece to succeed”.

“I understand your relationship interferes in your decision, but you do—”.

“I'm sorry, you said what? Did you…? Oh, god, I can't fucking believe it”. You can't help but laugh shaking your head. “I don't have any relationship as soon as I wear my badge, sir. And you are starting to cross a line you don't want to cross. Believe me”.

“Ma'am, don't misunderstand my words, nor my intentions. I just think ma—”.

“Nobody asked you to think, Johnson”.

Raising your eyes over his shoulders, you can see your boyfriend sipping his glass of whisky, joining the talk as he tries to keep calm. You know Hank to perfection. If he wasn't your boss, he would have punched him already.

“If you continue pissing off my agent, we're gonna have a problem”.

The man just nods, alternating his gaze between the two of you. Seems that he has admitted his defeat.

“Beautiful and lethal. You're a son of a bitch with so much luck, Voight. Take care of this diamond. Or she will end up wearing a blue jacket with yellow letters”.

“Uh-huh”. He replies as you continue remaining silent.

Passing your boss away back to the party, leaving you alone, you can't hide the proud smile that turns your gesture into a funnier one. Taking short steps towards him, you steal the glass from his hand to drink from it under his attentive brown eyes.

“Blue isn't my color. Not at all. I'm more into black”. You whisper referring to the jackets you are used to wearing in the Chicago department.

“Hm…”

“Imagine having your badge hanging from your neck all day like a collar. Do I look like a dog? I prefer to have it on my belt. And I'm already used to the disgusting watered coffee we make in the twenty-one”. As you continue giving him more reasons, your forefinger traces a path up from his chest to his nape. “And I have so much fun driving my Dodge all around Chicago”.

“Anything else you wanna add?”

“Hm… no. Actually, not. That's all, sir”. You reply puckering your lips, pulling yourself away some inches with a playful aura wrapping you both.

“Now lemme tell you something here”. Hank says then, leaning over your ear. “You're mine, I don't share”.

His voice and his characteristic raspy voice gives you some chills down your spine bone. Biting your bottom lip unconsciously while he stands up, you know the party is over for you and it's time to go home. Holding your hand and taking back his glass of whisky, you walk inside to say your goodbyes before leaving the fancy place straight to the underground parking. You are not going to lie saying you don't love his dominant mood when the occasion demands it.

As soon as you reach your car, you can notice sideways Hank making sure you're totally alone. He doesn't usually take risks of being seen in public too lovey-dovey, but it's not about it this time and you can't wait for him to go ahead with his intentions. Of course, he doesn't make you wait for too long to push your back to the copilot door, attacking your neck in the meantime his hands grab your hips stealing you a low gasp. Hank makes himself between your legs, urging you to surround his waist with one of them to close the distance that separates you, feeling the need he has to mark his territory, as rarely he shows.

“Take me home”. You almost beg closing your eyes as his teeth are nailed on your most sensitive spot, earning a soft grunt that vibrates your body.

“I'm gonna take you here, sweetheart. Any problem?”

“Hell, no, sergeant”.

“Get in the car. Now”.

You don't complain, taking it as an order when he takes two steps back releasing your body and opening the back door for you. And the next minute passes too fast, rolling up your dress as Hank undoes his belt and unzips his pants. In just a sigh he's deep-buried between your legs. It's the first time you take this kind of risk, almost in public, and the horniness it produces is driving you crazy. With your lips almost touching the others, you moan uninhibited every time his hands on your lower back urge you to keep swinging your hips, sitting on his lap.

The way his eyes memorize every gesture drawn on your face has you breathless. It's a sensation you can't describe. Hank has some kind of power over you that you haven't experienced before, even if you think you're indomitable he always manages to make whatever he wants with you. And you know it. You let him do it. Just like right now, marking his territory with desirous bites and wet kisses all around your exposed throat. The most visible part of your body. He doesn't need to prove anything. He isn't the kind of man who needs to call out any other man who dares to lay his eyes on you. Everybody in this damn city knows you're more than his pupil and they're too scared to say hi, although there's always an exception to the rule. In this case, the FBI agents acting like carrion birds.

The mist clouds the windows, as the heat concentrated on your bodies makes you sweat slightly. Hank takes the control turning you under his body against the seat in a position that puts you to see the stars. Every move of his pelvis is accurate, hitting your g-spot, satisfied with how good his name sounds getting drowned between pleased moans once and again. With every push to your body, his dick is dug deeper through your tight wetness making him grunt into your ear, feeling more delighted than never before. And everything is because of the way you had to reply to that FBI agent in front of everyone, showing him how clear you have your preferences; not only because of your relationship, as Johnson pointed out. But because everybody in Chicago is aware that there's no better boss in law enforcement. There's no better Unit than the Intelligence one from the police department of your hometown.

As your legs get wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, one of his arms surrounds your middle back while his free hand flies straight to your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, the suffocating sensation within your lower belly continues growing with every thrust that steals the air from your lungs and races your heart over its possibilities. You're close. So close that your mind is a total blank, just focused on the way only he can make you feel. So good, so desired, so full of life. He knows it, he takes it in advantage. And he enjoys it more than anything.

“Oh, fuck…” Hank got you almost in tears because of the pleasure, traveling your hands to the back of his neck, nailing your nails there. “God… I'm gonna… Fuck, Hank, don't stop, please… Don't stop”.

“I won't, my love… Not till you give me what I want”.

His voice always plays dirty with your mind. The way he has to drag every syllable on his tongue with that husky voice that puts you to tremble, as he continues burying his hard dick inside you with no mercy, speeding up as soon as he feels your legs clung to his body slightly shaking. Because of the fewer insecurities he has about your relationship, he feels proud whenever he makes you reach that sweet sensation of the orgasm taking control of your anatomy. He doesn't care if he has to use his hands, his tongue… whatever. It's not only about sex between the two of you, of course not. But making you cum screaming out his name is an every-day-goal.

And you don't make him wait for too long, arching your back when a lash of heat hits your spine and the grenade inside your lower belly explodes. Your gasps fill up your car, while he continues fucking you harder than seconds before not showing any compassion to your exhausted body, looking for your lips to devours them desperately. His tongue starts a fight for dominance, winning over yours like every single time, in the meantime his fingers grips tightly your throat. Instinctively, you swing your hips in sync, provoking every move to go deeper among your shaky legs.

Hank can't hold it anymore, digging his cock to the limits of your guts, almost hitting your soul with a last strong lung. His warm seed fills you up completely, keeping pushing his body against yours, pressing both to the seat with his hands now placed on the headrest. It feels like a whole set of fireworks. Your moans complement his delighted growls to perfection.

“Don't move, please”. You beg with a thin voice thread, at the same time he rests his forehead on yours.

The two of you can barely breathe, trying to recover after an intense session of your favorite cardio workout. From nowhere, you can't help but giggle in unison. You can't believe you just fucked inside your car and with the risk of being caught in the act. A sergeant and one of his special agents. Even if it's your free night and you're in an established relationship, he's still your boss.

“I would miss working with you”.

“Huh?”

“If I get the FBI's offer”. You mumble, leaving clumsy kisses all around his face. “You're the best cop Chicago has”.

“You don't have to butter me up for a second round”.

Shaking your head briefly and laughing, you caress his scalp so gently as he sinks his face into your sweaty neck.

“Now you said so… maybe I have the fantasy of being bent over your desk”.

“Maybe?”

“Yeah, just… maybe”.

“Then maybe I could bring you to my office, before going home. There's some paperwork to attend to”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #one chicago #hank voight imagine #hank voight x reader #hank voight

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hargrieve · 3 years

Text

hargrieve’s fics recs — april

this is a few days late, because I got caught up in real life! IN PERSON!! what a privilege!!! I read a little less fic in april too for the same reason, but I still recommend the following titles with my whole chest. I am a rarepair enthusiast, but there’s a sakuatsu and another sunaosa fic down below. happy reading :)))

FANDOMS: HAIKYUU!!

gorgeous short(ish) one-shots:

no more keeping score, now i just keep you warm by comfortcharacters @/comfrtcharacter on twitter

atsumu/hinata, past kagehina; rated T+; 3k words; 1/1

hinata and his relationships with his two setters, pre- and post-timeskip

I loved this story because it featured romantic atsuhina without diminishing the valid and important relationship between hinata and kageyama

unwalked by limeprint @/kuroy4ku on twitter

konoha/washio; rated Gen, 1.3k words; 1/1

konoha akinori introspection, between high school and timeskip

they/them konoha [feral yelling] also lots of cameos from the other teams

konoha thinking about volleyball, goals, sticking to things, and washio

heartwrenching writing; I love this author

Foresight by sifuhotman @/ginjimahitoshi on twitter

akagi/ginjima; rated T+; 15k words; 1/1

established akagin, part of subtle inarizaki things college au series

akagi is about to graduate and doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life. (this is ship-focused and not that short, but I’m categorizing it here bc a significant portion of it was focused solely on akagi’s struggles)

this hit HOME for me because I, like akagi, am about to graduate university and I do NOT know what I am doing with my life somebody help me

seriously if you are about to graduate or are at a similar transition stage in your life, even if you do not care/know akagin, I highly recommend this fic because I think it helped me a lot to process the changes in my own life

longer ship-focused fic:

kiss me more by yuzubalm @/yuzubalm on twitter

sunaosa; rated M; 15k words; 1/1

suna and osamu timeskip friends with benefits AND feelings, but of course they don’t talk about their feelings

author’s descriptions are SO INCREDIBLY TENDER they really k-worded me

very much recommend this if you are feeling pandemic loneliness and want to project into ~love~

running from lions by caandlelit @/caandlelit on twitter

konoha/sarukui; rated T+; 8k words; 1/1

sarukui is head over heels in love with konoha. he’s trying to say something, he really is

author does both sarukui and konoha justice. sarukui is Down Bad, but author maintains his sense of humor and, in a meta sense, the fact that he is a side character in haikyuu. a sweet high school get-together about a compelling little dude whom I love

I think this is my favorite fic from this list

clown fic:

Flushed by suzzzan @/tossysauce on twitter

akagi/ginjima; rated T+; 2.6k words; 1/1

here’s the summary: “So. Gin’s abs were going to ruin Akagi’s life. // Fuck.”

and here are two of the tags: “akagi has a gay crisis” and “gin has a hot bod”

take from those what you will

i laughed out loud like five times. A+ clowning of inarizaki volleyball club, esp akagi and atsumu

WHAT IN CARNATION by precious_red @/actuallyatsumu on twitter

sakuatsu; rated M; 11k words; 1/1

hanahaki/flower disease au, but make it clown. atsumu catches feelings and hanahaki disease for his fwb sakusa but refuses to say anything. 10+ thousand words of atsumu trying to sort it out like a dumbass

this is the first line: “Atsumu starts coughing up flowers while Kiyoomi’s dick is down his throat.”

CLOWN O’CLOCK atsumu how can you be so stupid

lots of puns and bad jokes. I laughed a lot reading this

recs I received in my inbox: (I have not personally read all of these)

Fidelity series by 5yenwish (iamacamera)

tsukkiyama; rated E and T; 15k words; 2 out of 2 in series

summary: “In their twenties, after years together, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's personalities begin to clash.”

guiding stars by daedalust

hirugami/hoshiumi; rated T+; 102k words; 19/19

same author as the hiruhoshi fic I put on the list last month!

Pokemon Stars by Sleepy_Dormouse

tsukkiyama; rated T+; 389k words; 110/150

from the recommender: “It’s a tsukkiyama fic that’s still ongoing (consistent updates, not abandoned) and it’s my personal favourite Haikyuu fic.

tag by rasmirato @triforce-of-weird

tsukkiyama; rated M; 25k words; 7/?

from the recommender: “I love not-so-secret mutual pining for this pair, so the fic basically details the ways their relationship evolves, sparked by some flirtatious late night texting heh”

after last month’s post, it appears that there are, in fact, a few people who look at these recs! (tagging @ravenclawboys here <3) please feel free to send recommendations :)

my twitter (where I am more active)

past fic recs

send me a rec!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#atsuhina #kagehina #tsukkiyama #sakuatsu #sunaosa #hiruhoshi #akagin #washikono #sarukono #konoha akinori #haikyuu fic recs #haikyuu!! fic recs #hargrieve's fic recs #mine

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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

#anon #mcashe #the fact that canon is treating me right for once #is blowing my mind and always will #look I can end up crying in a heap when OW2 drops and we find out that nothing I thought of was real #it's entirely possible #... but we already got so much #SOOOOO MUCH #that I can't even say I'd be mad x'D #I am one happy camper on this ship #and I love them to pieces #I wish I had the time/chance to make all the art I've been inspired to about them *cries ten rivers*#one day... one day

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yurimother · 4 years

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The Best Yuri of 2019

2019 was a challenging year for many, in and out of the anime community, which is still reeling from the horrific attack at Kyoto Animation’s first studio in July that killed 36 people. However, I want to take this moment, as we start a new decade, to reflect on some of the greatest achievements in Yuri.

2019 marked the genre’s 100th anniversary, 100 years since Nobuko Yoshiya released her landmark lesbian novel Yaneura no Nishojo that shaped and created Yuri as we know it. It was possible Yuri’s best years ever, as more incredible titles were released and localized, we experienced fantastic events and moments, and more. This article is part of my continuing celebration of all things Yuri!

Note that many of the works mentioned came out before 2019, but they either were first released in English during 2019 or hit particular high points during this year. Now then, here is the best of Yuri in 2019!

15: SukeraSparo

This Japanese Yuri visual novel developer is starting to reach new heights as they set their sights on releasing new and innovate Yuri titles. The English release of The Expression Amrilato, an educational Yuri visual novel that teaches the player Esperanto, was one of the most unique and creative works I have the pleasure of playing this year. But, they outdid themselves this year, releasing a sequel, Itsuka no Memorajxo, creating one of the most beautiful Yuri games in Folklore of Kudan, and founding a sister brand, SukeraSomero, “to fill the world with YURI!”

The Expression Amrilato is available in English for PC on Steam and Mangagamer

14: Mage & Demon Queen

This outrageous and vivacious webcomic hits its stride in Season 2. After setting a solid foundation, this masterpiece by Kuru “Color-LES” is finally able to explore some more interesting plot lines such as its characters’ pasts, conflicts between the demons and humans, and figuring out who’s gonna be the bottom (it’s Malori, it was always going to be Malori). It is chock full of modern humor and moments I can only describe as hilariously kinky, while rarely feeling gross of sleazy. I can only wait to see what is next for these star-crossed lovers.

Mage & Demon Queen: is available to read in English on Webtoon

13: Yuri Anthologies

In 2018, Yen Press gave us the first hint of some Yuri anthologies starting to squeak into the West with Éclair, but 2019 threw the floodgates open! New works are coming out in both Japan and the West, featuring multiple artists coming together to create works featuring workplace romance, isekai, first-time stories, and even MARRIAGE!! Additionally, creators released volumes collecting their various short stories, like Rouge Nagashiro’s Eve and Eve, and some series saw multiple artists contribute to an already established world such as in the Bloom Into You Anthologies.

12: SHWD

Sono’s science fiction Yuri doujinshi series, published in English by Lilyka, is everything I did not know I wanted in a Yuri series. It showcases pulse-pounding action as the women of the “Special Hazardous Waste Disposal” fight to take down the horrific Dynamis. It has musclebound beasts of women that exude strength, power, and femininity at all times. And it has a compelling story about overcoming personal conflicts and learning to rely on others.

SHWD is available digitally on Lilyka

11: If I Could Reach You

No other series this year delivered an emotional gut-punch like If I Could Reach You. This tragic and beautiful manga by tMnR follows a young girl as she attempts hopelessly to overcome her attraction to her brother’s wife. Everything from the artwork to the dialogue masterfully communicates the devastation and pain that the protagonist Uta feels. It is beautiful and devastating, and I carry every awesome moment on my mind continuously.

If I Could Reach You is available digitally and physically in English from Kodansha: https://amzn.to/36vsYPe

Honorable mention: SQ/Tamen de Gushi/Their Story

2019 was a little bit of a slow year for Tan Jiu’s webtoon, thanks to an extended hiatus, especially when compared to 2018’s triumphant and spectacular storyline. However, small moments of genius like Sun Jing’s father’s phenomenal visual monologue keep this work in peak form top and my heart. I hope that its recent Japanese serialization on Comic Walker help even more people enjoy it.

10: Still Sick

In my recent review, I called this workplace romance a “Yuri manga for Yurijin,” and there is no way I could come up with a more apt description. Still Sick surprised me with its self-awareness, knowledge, and commentary on the genre. It has an incredibly deep story about two complex and layered characters that ignite each other’s passion, in more ways than one.

Still Sick is available digitally and physically in English from Tokyopop: https://amzn.to/2rVRH07

9: Going Beyond Girl Meets Girl

Yuri stories tend to repeat the same story, two girls meet, they fall for each other, they get together, THE END! The past decade or so has finally seen more stories adding sexual elements, in contrast to earlier S works, and some even explored the dating life of two schoolgirls. However, we have recently seen something remarkable: works featuring couples “graduating” (literally or metaphorically) and enter the real world. Series like Citrus, Kase-san, and, briefly, Bloom Into You explore the relationships as they exit the honeymoon phase and get into the meat of lesbian livelihood.

Kase-san and Yamada is available for English preorder: https://amzn.to/2MXnp4w

8: Nagata Kabi

Over the past few years, Nagata Kabi has redefined what the Yuri genre can be. Her powerful autobiographical manga essays My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, My Solo Exchange Diary, and Genjitsu Touhi Shitetara Boroboro ni Natta Hanashi communicate her experiences with queer identity, mental illness, and alcoholism. No work of fiction could ever hope to reach Nagata’s strength and crushing honesty. Nagata’s manga has and will continue to change readers and the genre for years to come.

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2MZ7DWJ

7: Bloom Into You

Nakatani Nio’s popular Yuri series Bloom Into You crushed it in 2019. It concluded serialization, ending on an incredibly high note, and dominating the market in both English and Japanese, selling over one million copies (well deserved). Additionally, Sentai Filmworks released an excellent collector’s edition of the 2018 television anime adaption that is now a must-have for Yuri collectors. But my favorite aspect of this series is the spin-off light novel series featuring one of its best characters, which have already begun English release.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka is available digitally and for physical preorder from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2SVPVHG

6: Heart of the Woods

When I heard that one of the co-creators of Highway Blossoms, one of the better English Yuri visual novels, was creating his own studio, I was pretty excited. But nothing could have prepared me for Studio Élan's first release, Heart of the Woods, which blew me away. The enchanting adventure full of exceptionally queer characters shattered every expectation I had. I am looking forward to its Switch port and voice acting patch, as well as more titles from Élan.

Heart of the Woods is available for PC on Steam. Switch edition coming later this year.

Honorable mention: Hayama-sensei to Terano-sensei wa Tsukiatte iru

Oui Pikachi’s manga about two teachers navigating a new relationship is one of my new favorites. Everyone is so supportive of the title characters as they stumble their way through an honest and mature love. However, I am only giving it an honorable mention this year, as I am sure it will be on this list next year after Seven Seas releases the first volume in English as The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating!

The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating! is available for preorder in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/39JhXMs

5. Sexiled

Ameko Kaeruda’s spectacularly feminist and outrageously funny light novel series Sexiled is could ever ask for and more. I feel in love with its compelling female characters and their riveting battle against the sexist conventions of their society, all of which painfully mirror reality. This work is cathartic, empowering, and so very, very gay.

Sexiled is available digitally in English from J-Novel Club. Physical edition coming later this year: https://amzn.to/35u6NaW

4: Yuri Life

I adore domestic Yuri. Granted, I love a good romance and fantasy, but so many of these stories exist that it feels overwhelming, and sometimes it is just good to sit down and read about two women who love each other living their everyday adult lives in bliss. Kurukuruhime’s Yuri Life, which I have enjoyed ever since it was first uploaded to Pixiv and am so proud to own in print, is precisely that. Nine couples being cute and living together in a variety of humorous, scandalous, and adorable situations. Yuri cohabitation has never been so good! Now, if I could only get some Yuri titles about women raising kids together…

Yuri Life is available digitally and physically in English from Yen Press: https://amzn.to/35stSLg

3: Children’s Cartoons

For the past several years, children’s cartoons and media have slowly begun to allow bits of queer representation onto the screen. While we are still a long way from having Elsa kiss a girl, the small and large victories on children’s television give me hope. Some of my personal favorites include an episode of Nickelodeon’s The Loud House about a lesbian date, a lesbian couple and agender character (using they/them pronouns) in Craig of the Creek, the female protagonist of Twelve Forever developing a crush on another girl, and of course the unbelievable amount of queerness that She-Ra and Steven Universe shove into every moment. I wish I had more series like these when I was young, and I am thrilled that my students get to grow up with them.

2: Our Dreams at Dusk (Shimanami Tasogare)

Yuhki Kamatani’s Our Dreams at Dusk is easily 2019’s best manga. The incredible story explores many real aspects of LGBTQ identities, gay, lesbian, trans, non-binary, and asexual included, in an emotional and resonating masterpiece. The artwork is stunning and more expressive than words could ever be. I stand by what I said in my review, that Our Dreams at Dusk is the greatest manga I have ever read and wholeheartedly believes that it was deserving of the only 10/10 score I gave in 2019.

Our Dreams at Dusk is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2s282AE

Honorable mention: ‘The Conditions of Paradise’ Licensed

One of the best moments of this year came out of Anime Expo when Seven Seas announced that they had licensed Morishima Akiko’s Rakuen no Jouken and would be releasing it as The Conditions of Paradise in 2020. Not only is The Conditions of Paradise a fantastic and mature work of Yuri literature, but it is also over a decade old, having been published originally in 2007. This license, more than anything else, helped me realize how far Yuri came this year. Not only is the hottest new series being adapted, but a historic and profound classic of the genre.

The Conditions of Paradise is available for preorder in English: https://amzn.to/2FjTE9M

1: Yuri Publishers

Not too long ago, it was rare for us to see more than a few Yuri manga releases in a year if any, but now we are at the point where a publisher can do an event announcing five Yuri licenses in a single day! As of this year, all the major publishers, and plenty of smaller ones, are actively licensing, adapting, and publishing amazing Yuri works: Yen Press, Viz, Kodansha, Seven Seas, Tokyopop, Renta, J-Novel Club, and more keep giving us incredible Yuri. I also have to mention the incredible work Lilyka Manga is doing, working directly with mangaka to adapt Yuri doujinshi titles into English, something I would have never dreamed of a few years ago.

As Yuri enters its second century, we are staring down the rest of 2020, a year that will no doubt go down in current Yuri history. The year will see a record number of Yuri manga releases both in Japan and from licensed series in the West. We are getting several promising anime series like Adachi to Shimamura, Magia Record, Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu, a Princess Principal movie, and more. I cannot wait to see what this year will hold for YuriMother and the Yuri genre. I hope you all stick with me through it as we navigate the waters of a newer, gayer, and greater world of Yuri.

#yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#2020 #2019 #list #essay #news #queer #wlw #gay #romance #manga #anime #video games #gaming #games #bloom into you #their story #the loud house #steven universe #kase-san

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years

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Dick Grayson Comic Recs

I’ve been getting an increase in requests for comic recs, so I finally caved and decided to list a bunch of comics and series I recommend about Dick Grayson and put it all in one convenient place. I also wrote out a little description/review, to try to give people an idea if the comic sounded appealing and they wanted to check it out. Some of these are just single comics, others are some series to check out, pretty much in chronological order.

Robin:

Robin (1993) Annual #4: One of my preferred Robin origin stories. Fairly solid characterization, and a more reasonable timeline for events than other tellings. Provides an inside look at Dick’s thoughts during this time.

Batman: Dark Victory #9-13: All of Dark Victory is excellent, these are the issues that Dick appears in. It could be considered another Robin origin story, though it is not solely focused on Dick. Everyone is characterized very well, especially Dick. The plot is very engaging, involving Two Face and a crime family, along with tracking down Zucco. As the name implies, it is a bit grimmer than your usual retelling.

Batman Chronicles: The Gauntlet: Dick has been training to be Robin, and he thinks he’s finally ready, but he has to pass Batman’s final test--to keep away from him for a whole night. Of course, the test goes off track, and Dick soon finds himself the target of a ruthless mob boss, his deadly gang of thugs, and the GCPD. Batman chases after Robin, trying to save him before it is too late.

Robin: Year One: This is a four issue run that gives you a snapshot of the time where Robin is just introduced in the crime fighting scene. It features villains like the Mad Hatter and Two Face. The art style is really fun and dynamic, and we get to see Bruce and Dick start to figure each other out. Lots of Alfred as well!

Scarecrow: Year One: Another fun look at Dick and Bruce’s relationship, a little further along the road. Dick is very small and cute, and has also basically become Bruce’s therapist lmao! Not a great Scarecrow origin story though.

Legends of the DC Universe #6: The first time Superman and Robin meet. An absolutely delightful team up, I still have cavities from reading it because it is just so sweet. This one is so good, read it.

Teen Titans: Year One: A short little origin story for the fab five (ie Wonder Girl, Speedy, Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Robin). A cute introduction to the original titans.

The New Teen Titans (1980) and (1984): Forming the Teen Titans was a really important part of Dick’s development as a superhero, and some of his best stuff is when he is in a team setting. This run has the team you’d be more familiar with if you watched the animated Teen Titans show: it has Raven, Starfire, etc. Dick decides that he is going to leave Robin behind in issue #39.

Nightwing:

The New Teen Titans: The Judas Contract: This is the infamous run where Terra betrays the Titans. Dick dons the name Nightwing for the first time in this run (discowing style), and goes off with Joey Wilson to save the rest of the Titans from Slade and Brother Blood.

Batman #416: Dick meets Jason for the first time, and eventually the two bond over beating up some baddies.

The New Titans (1988) #55: You can read this series too for some Titans action, but even if you don’t you should skip over and read issue #55. It shows how Dick reacted to Jason’s death, and how Bruce and Dick had a huge falling out. It’s heartbreaking to read honestly.

Nightwing (1996): If you want to read Nightwing, it’d be best to look at his solo run also. It starts with him moving to Bludhaven, and continues from there. If you’re looking for Batfam cameos, I specifically remember issues #6 and #25 for its really cute brotherly Tim and Dick moments. Issues #13 - #15 have Dick and Batman working together. #105 and #106 have Jason (as Robin) working with Dick. There are a lot of solid Barbara moments throughout with her as Oracle. #138 is when he meets Damian for the first time. There’s a lot here, so I would just pick and choose the arcs that interest you, and go from there.

Action Comics #771: Another comic where Nightwing and Superman team up. Sue me, I love their dynamic!

Gotham Knights #17: Dick finally gets adopted in this one.

Batman (1940) #615: This one is smack dab in the middle of the Hush arc, an arc that focuses on Batman’s relationship with Catwoman and a mysterious new villain named Hush. I like this arc of comics (they recently made it into a movie!) so if you want to read the whole thing it starts at #608. This is just one that features Nightwing a lot. I include it because I really enjoy the dynamic Dick and Bruce have. It’s good stuff.

Titans/Young Justice Graduation Day #1-3: It’s fun to see Tim and Dick’s generations interact and deal with growing up as superheroes, and there is a lot of drama. Pretty important crap goes down in these comics: several people die, including Donna, and as a result Dick disbands the Titans. If you want to read Outsiders, you should really read this one first.

Outsiders Vol 3 (2003): Dick is mourning Donna’s death and self-destructing, so Roy forms a team called the Outsiders--a team that is meant to be just business rather than a family. Dick is more stern and his temper is shorter than usual, but I think it is all pretty in character for him, especially since he is grieving. Highlights include Roy and Dick’s lovely relationship.

Teen Titans (2003) #6: Ok, I almost didn’t put this one on here because it is very self-indulgent, but I couldn’t resist. This series has the Teen Titans starting back up again without Nightwing, but in this issue he makes a little cameo. If you’ve seen those panels around where Nightwing lectures the Justice League? This is where it happens. He’s just really cool here.

Batman:

Batman #687-688: This follows the Batfam’s initial reaction to Bruce’s death, and how Dick begins to approach being Batman himself. It is technically an epilogue to Battle for the Cowl, but that doesn’t have to be read for these comics to be understood.

Batman and Robin (2009): This is the series where we see Dick and Damian transform into people forced together who can barely tolerate one another, to some of the closest partners in the Batfam. They develop their relationship very nicely, and we get to see how Dick approaches a lot of the emotional and physical challenges that come with being Batman. Some of the arcs are good, some of them very much miss for me.

Batman: Black Mirror: This is a collection of Detective Comics #871-881. I’d say these are my favorite Dick!Batman stories ever. All the cases are very good (really chilling), and the characterizations are top notch stuff. Lots of Gordon, Barbara, and some Tim also. I won’t spoil who it is, but the big villain they have for this book is one of the best I’ve seen for Dick, an almost perfect foil in my opinion.

Batman: Gates of Gotham: A good story, it’s interesting to see how Dick interacts with his siblings as Batman. I think this may be one of the first times Cass and Damian meet, though I’m not positive about that.

Just as a heads up, I’ve left out some significant events and this isn’t an exhaustive list on everything there is to know about the character. These are just some comics I enjoy. I hope they help you get a start on who Dick Grayson is, and how he figures into the Batfam and the larger superhero community.

#dick grayson #dick!robin #Dick!Batman #nightwing #DC comics #comics #comic recs #my comic recs #batman #long post

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ggukcangetit · 4 years

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Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix - JJK fic

title: Chocolates & Laundry Do Not Mix [Prequel to Crime & Punishment]

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: PG 13

warnings: language, y/n uses a pillow to deal with her frustration, not much else?

word count: 3.5k

summary: when your best friend, Namjoon, asks if a junior from his business ventures class can live with you till his lease comes through, you don’t think much about it. But one month with Jeon Jungkook proves to be extremely difficult because of how little the boy says but how much he seems to topple over without much effort.

a/n: this is the first fic for jungkook’s birthday! happy birthday to the bestest, most lovely, wonderful, soft-hearted boy out there. we love you, koo! wishing you happiness always <3

Before Jungkook

Namjoon is a great guy. He’s smart, funny, considerate, thoughtful, kind, and definitely one of the best looking guys out there. You love him, you really do. But there are times when you wish you could roundhouse kick his dimpled ass out of the window. And this would be one of those moments.

“It’ll only be for a couple of months, y/n.” Namjoon sat down on the grass, his long legs stretching out in front of him. Seokjin reached over you and handed him the last neatly packed chicken wrap he had brought. “The lease at his old place ran out last week, and the place he’s going to move to doesn’t allow tenants before August. You’re the only one of us who currently doesn’t have a roommate.”

You frowned, the wonderfully seasoned chicken inside Seokjin’s wrap not really registering in your system. “Seokjin can’t?”

“You do know that I just graduated and will be moving to a different city in a couple of days, right?” He shot you a look and promptly flopped onto the grass dramatically.

“What about Yoongi?”

“He’s moved in with his girlfriend.” Namjoon quirked an eyebrow. “Do you not read any of the messages in the group chat?”

“Jimin? Hobi?” You were desperate at this point.

“Hobi lives with me. And Jimin lives with Taehyung right now. But the two of them are planning to move into a new apartment before classes start in the fall and Jungkook will be staying with them after that! So what do you say?” Namjoon stared at you expectantly. “Can Jungkook crash at your place for the summer?”

If it were up to you, some random junior from Namjoon’s business class would not be crashing at your modest apartment while you slaved your ass off working part-time so that your job prospects would be minutely better at the time of graduation. But then - you stared at Namjoon’s inquiring gaze and Seokjin’s knowing eyebrow raise - it was never really up to you, was it? No. Somehow, all decisions in your friend group had become a matter of collective responsibility. Yoongi wants to buy a new sound system? Well, it must be compatible with the latest AR gaming technology so that Seokjin can come over and use it whenever he wants. Hobi’s ordering a designer jacket for his birthday? It can’t be orange because Jimin wouldn’t be caught dead wearing orange.

And the list goes on…

What it ultimately came down to was that Jungkook would be staying at your place over the summer. If you said no, your friends would definitely understand… But you would feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the year. So-

“Thanks for letting me stay here, y/n.” Jungkook wasn’t what you had expected. Although you had received very contrasting, even conflicting, descriptions of him from your friends.

“He’s a shy guy,” Namjoon said while walking his bike out of the university courtyard. “Doesn’t speak to a lot of people easily.”

Seokjin, naturally, had said something completely different. “He’s the toughest guy I know. Dude could easily bench press us all at the same time.”

That had left you a little worried so, of course, you decided to speak to Hobi. “Jungkook? Haha! That guy’s really something else! He barely sleeps at night because he’s playing video games! And he’s a snack monster!”

Your mind immediately went to the basket of snacks you kept at your apartment. There was no way this guy would touch your stuff, right?

“Jungkook’s a total prankster!” Jimin giggled while sipping his iced tea. “You should see the stuff he and Tae get up to sometimes!”

“It’s no big deal.” Your reply lacked the minimal amount of enthusiasm required to not be considered a big deal, though. If Jungkook picked up on that, he didn’t say anything.

Week 1 with Jungkook

The first couple of days went by without any issues. He seemed like a quiet guy who kept to himself - so far Namjoon’s description had been the most accurate - and you supposed two months with him around wouldn’t be terrible.

That’s where you were sorely mistaken. Suddenly, you found the fridge full of banana milk cartons - not a few bottles, mind you, but a few cartons of banana milk. Every single cupboard in the kitchen was now stuffed with protein supplements, low carb snacks, and the entire country’s supply of instant ramen. Now, you didn’t have anything against instant ramen per se - heck, you really enjoyed the beauty of a quick delicious meal at the end of a long day - but this was pushing things a little. Because for every single instant ramen packet placed in the kitchen, something of yours had to be displaced rather dramatically.

For instance, you had woken up early one Tuesday morning, craving chocolate chip pancakes like nobody’s business. The chocolate chips were kept on the middle shelf of the third cupboard from the left - as they had been since you had moved in a year ago. You knew exactly where your things were placed and, having the unassailable confidence of an only child who has never had to share their space and now lives on their own as well, you opened the cupboard door without looking up. This was clearly not as smart a decision as you had imagined because a ton of instant ramen packets came cascading down on your head.

Jungkook came rushing out of his bedroom, alarmed by the sound of loud and colourful cursing coming from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?!”

The look on your face was probably one Seokjin would have laughed at until he had tears in his eyes. But Jungkook, completely unacquainted with your temper and the peculiar things that set you off, looked like he had just found out that he was allergic to both banana and dairy. Actually, he looked more like Hobi the day he had come home to find Jimin and Taehyung working on the latter’s art project which had resulted in the most tragic paint spill on the most beautiful white carpet in the history of college roommate sagas.

“Oh shit! The ramen- I’m so sorry, y/n!” Jungkook ran towards you to try and help. Unfortunately, he was both hesitant to physically check if you were okay and eager in his desire to make things alright, resulting in a collision which sent you hurtling towards the ground in what would have been an extremely nasty fall. To Jungkook’s credit, he had some insanely rapid reflexes and managed to catch you before you hit the tiled floor and cracked your skull open.

There was a brief moment between when he wrapped his arm around your waist and when your brows furrowed in annoyance, where you caught a whiff of his apple-scented shampoo and noticed the tiny mole on the bridge of his nose.

Cute.

You wriggled out of his hold and fixed him with a look that, hopefully, conveyed that you were supremely displeased with his ramen placement without actually having to tell him off.

“S-sorry about that.” The look had done its job. Jungkook quickly gathered up the fallen ramen packets and stuffed them into the nearest drawer - which then could not be closed.

“How much ramen do you have…?” Your annoyance was replaced with sheer curiosity at this point.

“Oh, uh… I won a gaming contest and the first prize was a year’s worth of instant ramen.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

You sighed. “Come on, let me show you the extra storage space behind the shoe cupboard.”

Week 2 with Jungkook

Jungkook wasn’t a loud and inconsiderate roommate. In fact, after the ramen debacle of the first week, he had been coexisting with you quite beautifully. Sometimes you would cook dinner, curse at the fact that you had to cook dinner, and then secretly cherish the absolute delight on Jungkook’s face as he ate the dinner you had cooked. Other times, he would tap into his self-proclaimed noodle know-how and whip up some sort of deluxe instant ramen dish, which always turned out to be heavenly and it was all you could do to stop yourself from moaning in pleasure while you both slurped the noodles.

Then, of course, were the times when you ordered takeout, and somehow attracted all the ravenous souls present on the group chat. It didn’t matter whether it was sushi or tacos or fried chicken or pizza or chinese or even a batch of mini donuts from the tiny shop opposite your apartment - all six of them invariably came knocking a few minutes before the food was delivered.

“Gguk, how’s the summer internship going?” Yoongi was holding his third slice of pizza, sitting on the floor with his legs spread haphazardly. This was one of the rare times when he had dropped by for a random friday hangout - his friday nights were usually reserved for his girlfriend.

Jungkook looked up from the game he had been playing with Taehyung and Seokjin. “Oh, it’s fine. The usual internship bullshit.” He let out a small winner as his car flew past the others just before the finish line.

“This damn game is rigged,” muttered Seokjin. “How come nobody but Jungkook ever wins?”

“That’s because you suck, Jin!” Jungkook ducked out of the way as Seokjin reached out to punch him. “Face it, racing games aren’t your thing.”

At the other end of the room, Hobi was dozing off at the dining table while Jimin and Namjoon played their 9th game of Go Fish. Yoongi bit into the pizza and motioned Taehyung to get him a beer from the fridge.

“We should go clubbing.” Taehyung’s impulsive and, frankly, terrible ideas were usually a result of a three-game losing streak. If there was anyone who hated losing more than Seokjin, it was the raven haired guy with soft curls falling on his forehead, staring at all of you with his piercing gaze.

“I’m exhausted. I had classes from 9-7 today,” said Namjoon, waving his hand dismissively.

“I work on Saturdays, Tae. You know that.” Seokjin got up and stretched his arms above his head. “I’m going to head out now.”

“The rest of us can go then.” Taehyung was nothing if not persistent.

“Hobi’s passed out already. And Soya’s waiting for me at home. So I’m going to drop him and Joon at their place, and then head back myself.”

These negative responses did nothing to deter Taehyung’s determination to go clubbing, which meant that you found yourself smooshed into the back of an uber with Taehyung and Jungkook as Jimin sat shotgun. Not only did you absolutely hate clubbing, but the fact that both Jungkook and Taehyung were very well-built, muscular guys, meant that you basically had one butt cheek of space to sit on.

“You okay?” asked Jungkook, before the four of you walked into the club.

“My left butt cheek is asleep, but otherwise all good.” He giggled at your response, gently laying a hand on your back so that you wouldn’t be separated from the group.

An hour later, you were completely certain of three things.

First off, there was nothing in the world that could make you enjoy clubbing. Not the location, not the music, and not the people you were with. Secondly, the three boys you were with not only had devastating good looks, but also managed to shake up the club with their crowd-pulling dances. Jimin’s style relied heavily on his seductive hip movements while Taehyung was destroying everyone with his smoldering expressions. Jungkook, meanwhile, was running completely on an adrenaline rush, and matched Jimin and Taehyung move for move, adding a sexy amount of aggression to the dances as well.

And finally, Jungkook, despite his muscles and dancing and adrenaline, liked to cuddle when he was extremely exhausted and had someone in his vicinity. That someone happened to be you that night as you came back to the sofa to find him curled up into a ball, his mouth slightly open as he slept peacefully. Your mistake was trying to place a blanket on top of him because you soon found yourself being pulled into his embrace as you became Jungkook’s personal cuddle pillow. You could say that you struggled for a long time, trying to break out of his grasp but he was just too strong for you, so you eventually gave up and fell asleep while cuddling with him on the sofa.

But then you would be lying.

Week 3 with Jungkook

Not that you would ever admit it, but Jungkook had a very pert bottom. As bottoms go, his was definitely somewhere in the top tier. The general consensus on campus was that Jimin and Taehyung were the usual contestants in the battle of the first-rate bottoms. But those of the general consensus had clearly never seen Jungkook in skin-tight jeans, kneeling on the floor while trying to reach for the remote that had fallen under the sofa.

“You’re zoning out again!” Seokjin was seated opposite you and snapped his fingers in front of your face. “You know I hate being ignored, y/n.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you…” Your cheeks colored as you tried to rid your mind of the images of Jungkook from that morning, reaching for the highest shelf and flashing a beautiful strip of impeccably shaped abs.

“Tell me you aren’t daydreaming about Jungkook’s ass.”

“I am not daydreaming about Jungkook’s a-” You closed your mouth quickly, slapping Seokjin’s arm for good measure. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Work’s so boring and you’re so predictably entertaining, y/n,” he grinned and bit into the chocolate cupcake in front of him. “I miss seeing you everyday.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled.

“Nah, but seriously, Jungkook’s a solid guy - pun completely intended.” You rolled your eyes as he snickered at his joke. “You two would be good together.”

“You’re well aware of my stance on people setting me up, right?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“No one’s setting you up. I’m just saying -” Seokjin popped the remaining half of the cupcake into his mouth - “if there’s potential, you shouldn’t stop yourself.”

Unfortunately, any potential that may have been present, completely fizzled out when you got home that afternoon. You had made one thing perfectly clear the day that Jungkook had moved in with his stuff - your snack supply was completely off-limits. Yet here you were, staring at a near empty basket while Jungkook lounged on the sofa with chocolatey fingers and an empty chips packet lying on the table.

Pert bottoms definitely did not trump snack supplies - as Jungkook found out the hard way when a pillow came crashing down on him with the wrath of all your ancestors combined.

“Y/n! What the fuck?!” he yelped, ducking from your well-aimed blows.

“My snacks! They’re off limits! Asshole!” You punctuated each word with a smack of your pillow.

“Stop! Stop!” He grabbed the pillow from your hands and threw it as far as he could. “I’m sorry! I was really hungry and there wasn’t anything else at home!”

His stupid big doe eyes were just too damn sincere and you felt yourself deflating and sinking into the sofa. After making sure that you wouldn’t attack him again, Jungkook sat down beside you, nudging you softly with his shoulder. “I was going to go to the asian store once they open in the evening. Do you want to come with and help me replenish the snack supply?”

You huffed in annoyance but gradually rested your head on his shoulder. Jungkook had lived with you long enough to know that that was a yes.

Week 4 with Jungkook

Choosing movies to watch over dinner was always something you struggled with. Not when you were alone. No, you knew exactly what you wanted to watch. Your Netflix suggestions were appropriately lined up with crime dramas and sci-fi thrillers. It was only when there was someone else watching with you that the situation became contentious. Namjoon had a penchant for documentaries, and Hobi and Jimin liked watching musicals. Seokjin refused to watch anything even remotely close to a horror film, and Yoongi and Taehyung always voted for heavy art films. And Jungkook-

“I am not watching Titanic.” You settled into the sofa with your bowl of pasta, reaching forward to grab the soda can on the table.

“Come on, y/n! It’s a classic!” Jungkook whined. You had realised that the boy whined a lot over little things like movie selections and waking up before 8 am. “A tragic tale of true love.”

You snorted into your food. “True love would’ve been if they’d both survived.”

“You’re so cold.” There it was, the infamous Jeon Jungkook pout. It didn’t make an appearance often, but when it did, you found yourself growing weaker and much more likely to give in to whatever stupid thing he wanted.

“Fine. Put it on. But don’t blame me when I end up scrolling through Instagram the entire time.”

“I won’t,” he grinned and sat down next to you. The sofa dipped considerably and you found yourself sliding towards him involuntarily. It wasn’t that this position was uncomfortable - you were actually really fond of unwitting physical contact with your friends. The only problem was the way your heartbeat quickened every time the unwitting contact was with Jungkook.

By the time the movie was over, Jungkook’s nose was running. It was no secret that he cried during sad movies but you still loved teasing him about how easily characters brought him to tears.

“Damn, look at you crying over Jack and Rose. They’re just fictional characters and Rose didn’t even die! What would you do if I was in their place? Would you cry over me too, Gguk?” You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“No.” His reply was firm and you wondered if he had been offended this time.

“No? Why not?”

“I’d never let that happen to you.”

You could safely say that you had never bolted to the bathroom as quickly as that moment, splashing your cheeks with cold water to bring down the flush.

This wasn’t the only time Jungkook had left you completely speechless, however. He ordered takeout much more than you did, not having time to cook much because of his internship. And his takeout orders usually consisted of either pizza or fried chicken. On most days, you were done with dinner by the time he got home and ordered takeout.

On one such day, you looked up from the spreadsheet you had been working on, your stomach clearly unsatisfied with the grilled cheese sandwich you had eaten a couple of hours ago. Making your way to the kitchen, you rummaged through the contents of the fridge, huffing in annoyance as you found nothing suitable for your current hunger-related dilemma.

“Do you want pizza? I’ve finished but there are a couple of slices left.” Jungkook pushed the box towards you and turned his attention back to his phone. It was a veggie supreme - something that Jungkook always ordered.

“How come there aren’t any olives?” you asked, knowing that that particular pizza store always put olives on their veggie pizzas.

“I asked them to take out the olives.”

“Why? I thought you loved olives.”

“I do. But you don’t eat olives.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment. “But you ordered the pizza for yourself…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want the olives to stop you in case you wanted to have a slice.”

He hadn’t looked up during the entire conversation but you could see the way his cheeks turned pink and how he kept tugging at his ear. You, yourself, felt your heart soar and bit into a slice of pizza - trying to stop the shit-eating grin from spreading on your face.

After Jungkook

It turned out that Jungkook didn’t need to stay at your place for more than a month. Jimin and Taehyung had somehow convinced their landlord to allow them to move in a month ahead of the designated move-in date, which meant that you were once again living alone.

It was weird. There was a lot of space in your cupboards once again and the fridge didn’t always smell of chocolate shakes and overripe bananas. You were also free to choose whatever movie you wanted to watch with dinner. But something still felt amiss…

You sighed and reached for your basket of snacks, frowning as your fingers swiped at thin air. Your eyes widened as you glanced at your previously well-stocked supply of snacks, noting the distinct lack of at least 75% percent of its contents.

“JEON JUNGKOOK!”

please leave a comment if you enjoyed this story! tagging @holynamtiddies , @hauntedlilies

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #c me write bangtan #jungkook fluff #bts fic #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #bts #bts fluff #bts bookclub #happy birthday jungkook!

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