#but so does she which is why they get along and they make each other worse. but also sometimes better
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Wondering if MC and Jade marrying each other and have children, will that child have MC ability to read people mind? And If so, imagine that MC didn't tell jade about her ability only for her child casually told their father about it Infront of MC, MC be like:
I am currently leaning to having Jade find out about Yuu's telepathy in PTM, but this scenario is also incredibly funny as hell.
I can't go into why Yuu got magic, as it's a very large spoiler, but I can say that no one is quite sure if their abilities are hereditary or not due to the nature in which they were gained.
Assuming these are biological children, it's a delightful surprise for Yuu when they find out that their little one can also read minds! How nice, to have someone just like you! Yuu is excitedly telling them all the ways in which they can overcome the difficult parts of being a telepath, how to try and not be too invasive, and how to be sneaky about it with others.
Yuu, however, forgets to tell their kid that their dad isn't exactly privy to their telepathy. So they're sweating just an itty bitty bit when their kid's big mouth goes off on it with their dad, saying:
“It's so weird, Papa! This one girl at school likes me, I can hear her head, but she's always so mean to me. But Ama says that it's not too bad once you get used to it, like they did with you in school! Ama said that you had a buncha thoughts about them in school all the time, like my classmate did. Oh! Do you think I'll get to marry her too, like you and Ama?”
Jade is staring at you with a pleasant smile, chin in his hand, as he hums along to his child's talking. “Why, of course!” He tells them, still staring at you with mischievous eyes and an even more mischievous smile.
“I think you like this girl too, or else you wouldn't be thinking about marrying her. Now, why don't you go off and play with your friend next door, we'll clean up.”
Your kid, none the wiser and not really trying to process whatever thoughts are going through your heads, nods and runs off to play. You two stay in the kitchen as you take the dishes to be washed, and Jade puts the leftovers away to take for lunch tomorrow. As you wash the dishes, Jade spooks you by wrapping his arms around your midsection and kissing your left temple.
After years of marriage, you'd become less aware of Jade's presence around you, it was becoming second nature. Like his mind was just another part of your own. So, when you were distracted like times like this, Jade reveled in being able to spook you, just a bit.
“So, telepathy, hmm?” Jade sighed, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “That would certainly explain a few things. Though, that does bring up a question…”
Jade pushed you against the sink, tightening his hold around you and he hummed against your neck. His thoughts were busy with ideas of taking you against the sink, of covering your mouth to keep you quiet, of littering bites along your collarbone like a pretty red necklace.
“Did you like hearing all my dirty thoughts about you? About the ways I wanted to take you? Use you? Make you my own?”
The front of your shirt was getting wet, the plate in your hands dropping into the soapy hot water as you grabbed his hands, wandering under your shirt and into your pants.
“J-Jade, not here, it's embarrassing—”
“Oh, but you like that, why else would you let me pursue you? You knew how I felt, and yet never shut me down. Why? Because you wanted me too? You can admit it my pearl, it's okay, I like it when you get flustered~ You're so cute when you are, no wonder you had me wrapped around your finger~”
Jade began moving his hips against yours, his breath becoming heavy as you moved against him despite your earlier remarks. Because yes, you really did like the way he made you hot and bothered. You liked that he desired you so reverently, even now, after years of being together. It was like you two never really left your honeymoon phase.
“Our little one will be at their playmate's for a while, why don't you read my mind and tell me about all the things I want to do to you?”
#mochi asks#lavender-stuff#twst#twisted wonderland#jade leech#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jade leech x reader#ptm#suggestive#alskjflaskjflaksglaneio#jaaaaaaade#jade pls i just need a chance
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Can we talk about Mileven for a minute. Another reason I don't buy their romantic relationship is the fact that most of their one on ones as a romantic couple (S3) are comedic and not very serious. Where are the deep conversations and when are we ever shown how much they understand each other... post (S2). It's almost like once they started dating they became a joke? Yes they have a few sweet moments but it's also scripted to be laughable. (S4) never showed them having a honest deep convo resolving issues and growing romantically. It could happen in (S5) but at this point I don't see the emotional romantic draw.
And then there is Byler to compare it to, where most of their one on ones are much much more serious, deep, heartfelt, with actual evidence of understanding and talks involving their feelings (which Mike seems to not have an issue with unlike his plot in S4 with El). This, mind you, happens to some degree in every season with Will. If Mike just sees Will as his best friend, why is he so serious about Will especially alone together. Even best friends are more casual then this.
Also a side note. The (S3) Mileven straight stereotype of the 'lazy, lying, clueless boy' dating the 'girl who is playing hard to get to teach her boyfriend a lesson' troupe is icky and makes me want El to find her power solo and Mike to remember that the old Mike (who has a special will voice) is a much better person and boyfriend. Thoughts?
Damn! Well said, dear anon!! I couldn’t agree more.
To anyone who says anything along the lines of ‘oh, Mleven can’t be broken up, they’ve been building up this whole time!’ Or ‘here’s the slow burn everyone wanted,’ or ‘Mike and El have grown so much even after fighting,’ I really don’t understand how any of that is founded. I totally agree and I feel like their relationship has been rather unserious. Even in the most serious love-centered topics of support (s1), connection (s2), breakups (s3), and expression (s4), it’s really interesting to me how their relationship has consistently lacked depth.
Despite dealing with some of the most important aspects of strong relationships, they aren’t close enough to showing, providing, or proving to have one. Mike supports El in season 1 as she does him, protecting and aiding each other with their strengths. But… so does everyone in that season to each other? The only difference is that Mike sheltered El which is very sweet, but not inherently romantic.
Then there’s season 2, which I must confess - I think that their reunion scene at the end of the season remains one of the sweetest moments on the show. Ever. It’s raw and emotional, and this was the closest thing we got to something romantic. But what shoots it down is the fact that their emotion was due to forced separation and Mike’s very real complex grief which gets completely glossed over in the show. So, I don’t know. It’s tricky. So are they romantic yet? They get virtually no time together. It’s a no for me.
And oh yeah, season 3 was the peak of unserious-ness. I also don’t enjoy that trope of ‘the boy chasing the girl who just doesn’t get it yet and she snubs him until the very end’ kind of energy. I swear that that stuff is littered in family-friendly movies usually as comedic relief, and Mike and El just barely made that trope more serious at the very least. Their breakup is dramatized and humorous, and the way that it’s mended still makes me chuckle. Mike offers her M&Ms, compliments her looks, they smile at each other, and suddenly they’re all good again? Yeah, that’s not very clear romance to me. All season long, they keep resisting each other. Mike lashes out to everyone and declares that he loves El but can’t say it to her face, and El has Max’s words tattooed on her heart that she keeps asserting that she deserves trust. The two just don’t quite reach each other that season. The second that I heard Hopper say that they’ve only been kissing all Summer long without complaining about them talking, I knew that I was not going to be invested in their relationship this season.
And so season 4 was truly the nail in the coffin, the final turning point. They’re not only shallow in making up, they’re shallow in being together. El isn’t honest with Mike about her time in Lenora, how she’s spent it, the people she’s met, the fun she’s truly having. Mike snaps about Will being disinterested, so it’s pretty clear that he was dishonest about his true feelings that day, too. And the most telling part is that he’s not mad at El. He’s mad at Will.
I think that what the writers have done is craft something so deeply intricate and hidden with Mike and Will to the point of confusion in much of the audience today. Will has always been a buffer of affection for Mike. In season 1 he’s the one they’re searching for. In season 2, he’s the one that Mike protects. In season 3, he’s the true breakup that Mike fights for. In season 4, he’s the listening ear and bleeding heart that Mike relies on. Their love only gets stronger and stronger whereas Mike and El are simply loving under the guise of physical closeness. I seriously think that that’s all that they have for each other.
That hug sequence at the end of season 4 really shocked me, because when I saw Mike and El hugging (not to mention that shot with Will right between them) I thought that it was sweet, but then suddenly Will and El are hugging, the siblings who are absolutely platonic, and it felt more emotional than Mike and El’s embrace. So not only are Mike and El visually equated to a platonic relationship, but their bond doesn’t even hold the same weight as the sibling-hood of Will and El.
It’s just wild to me that people don’t see it. I think that Byler is made abundantly clear for us to root for. The crazy together scene did it for me the first time I saw it. It was and still is one of my favorite scenes ever because it’s the total package. Closeness? Check. Honesty? Check. Hurt/comfort? Check. Matching, nerdy Halloween outfits? Check. The lack of anyone or anything else to distract them? Check. The crazy together scene is a marker of their relationship, and it never, ever dies.
Even though they fight, where are they years later? They’ve gone through supernatural and personal troubles together, and they’re still by each other’s side. “Friends. Best friends.” The same at heart. They promise to support each other, they reconnect, they come back from every breakup, and they readily express things on their minds and hearts. They’re there for each other and tell each other things that no other boys in the party have told each other.
Mike and El try to understand each other, they do, and sometimes it’s just trying that’s enough, but on a truly intimate level, that’s bullshit. Mike and Will have everything that they need and want for each other, and there’s no going through hoops to get it besides internalized homophobia. Which I very well think can be reasonably addressed next season.
So yep. Byler is endgame.
#asks my beloved <3#thank you for the thoughts anon!! I love building off thought pieces!#also my apologies that his took so long I didn’t really have the words earlier to complete this#this has been in my drafts for like a month 😭#forgive me#byler#anti mileven
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*Trigger Warnings for this post discussing self harm and suicide*
So I was talking with @mgjong about Mahiru, and we noticed a few things regarding her story that I wanted to go more in detail with and highlight! First, I wanted to talk about Mahiru’s behavior during her T1 VD:
Once Es gets to the heart of the conversation and starts reminding Mahiru about her crime, the tone notably shifts here, along with Mahiru’s reaction. Her words are trailing off, her voice is notably more subdued, and of course, she does not deny that she did "kill" someone:
And then, Mahiru changes the subject, with Es even pointing it out and wondering why she’s doing this. The topics she starts talking about are very interesting too:
Mahiru: “So first things first, you should gather up all your courage and be completely transparent about yourself. Doing so will make your partner feel at ease. And they’ll start opening up about themselves more.”
What interesting topics to talk about Mahiru! Communication and transparency? Wanting your partner to open up? Why would you bring up those kinds of things here? Right after Es mentioned your crime? Were you doing it subconsciously because you were reminded of the time when you couldn't do this? Specifically for your boyfriend in mind? I don't know, it's just very interesting how this is the very first topic about love that she brings up in her VD.
Mahiru's bf:
Speaking of her bf, do I think this guy is a saint? No, definitely not. Do I think he’s some asshole who deserved to die? No, I don’t think that either. To me, the bf is just another guy. He’s human, and he failed to communicate his boundaries with Mahiru, which contributed to their conflict.
Clearly, we don’t know much about this guy, outside of Mahiru’s perception of him, but here’s how I personally interpret this guy and the role he plays in Mahiru’s story:
1. Mahiru's bf was just someone who failed to communicate and establish his boundaries with Mahiru, with his mental health getting worse as time went on for their relationship.
2. Mahiru's bf had his own mental health and self-harm issues before he had met Mahiru, which were made worse because of their relationship.
I don't think these two options have to be mutually exclusive either. But I do think there's a bit of evidence that points to her bf having mental health issues before. In one of the magazine scans in TIHTBILWY and in Q16 of her T2 interrogation, Mahiru notes that she met her bf on the university terrace, which seems innocuous enough with how Mahiru describes it:
From user @shima1408 on YouTube:
But in ILY, Mahiru's bf has also been shown to have blood on his clothing while both of them are in the forest. It is possible that he could've gotten injured while they were walking through the forest, but more importantly, Mahiru does not have any blood on her clothing. Why is Mahiru the one not injured then, but her bf is? Did he inflict those wounds on himself? Why was he on the university terrace that fateful day he and Mahiru met? Did he fall in love with Mahiru because he thought she was the one? A fated partner who stopped him on that day and could give him another chance at a happy life?
So I do think it's a possibility that this guy had mental health problems before he had met Mahiru, which she inevitably made worse due to her love. He literally could’ve just been on the terrace chilling, but the meeting detail is still pretty odd to point out. It also stands out from all of Mahiru’s existing fluff dialogue and romanticization of the event and is even noted again in an interrogation question in T2, despite having been mentioned before.
But regardless of whether or not he did, Mahiru did not recognize how her love caused a strain on her bf's mental health. So when Mahiru became more obsessive and overbearing as time went on, as well as her bf not being able to communicate his needs and establish those boundaries with her, they both ended up being mutually toxic to each other as a result of this miscommunication.
Again, this is why I think she continued to emphasize “getting to know the other person better” and “being transparent” to Es in her T1 VD, because she had failed to do this with her bf before. Not only did she change the subject to avoid talking about her sin, but she also switched to a topic she knew deep down she failed to do with her bf, so she ends up compensating for it through her conversation with Es.
Cake:
The cake in ILY obviously represents love, but it also represents hurt and pain (as shown with how Mahiru feeds the cake/rat to her bf). Because both of them are shown to be feeding the cake to each other, it shows that in this conflict, blame cannot be placed on one or the other entirely. They had both failed in the relationship, despite genuinely loving each other.
Mahiru's bf feeds her a small piece, which she takes happily. He's careful with it, making sure the piece doesn't fall it to the ground. An important thing to note: Mahiru eats the slice willingly (Mahiru is so willing to accept that pain too, huh?), and her bf does not force her to eat it:
But Mahiru gives him a much bigger piece with no hesitation. Because she thinks that's what he wants. She thinks that more of her love will help quell his exhaustion, his pain. So she feeds him a bigger, more overwhelming slice of cake. She's careless, and the slice could fall so easily. And what does she do? Force her bf to eat the cake. She does not give him a choice to not accept it.
Suicide:
Now to the main setting in ILY: it’s a literal forest, which seems to allude to the Aokigahara Forest aka the "Suicide Forest" as it's known for in real life. We know that Mahiru's bf died from suicide based on ILY and the Undercover shot where he's missing his shoe, but we still don't know the reason why Mahiru was shown to be with him before his suicide. This leads me into thinking two possible scenarios on what possibly happened:
1: Mahiru’s bf was planning to kill himself, and Mahiru somehow found out about it and tried to join him, but had failed in doing so.
2: Both Mahiru and her bf were planning a "shinjū" (lover’s suicide) together, with Mahiru being unsuccessful with the attempt.
I am leaning more towards possibility #2 because of how it would fit in with Mahiru’s tendency to "share pain" as something she views as love. Since the lover's suicide is a concept that matches this sort of thing, I wouldn't put it past Mahiru and her bf to go along with this idea, and it was just that Mahiru was the one who survived this while her bf did not. Lover's suicides are also a thing common in literature, so it's definitely something Mahiru would find and know about given her literature and romance novel associations.
Other interesting details pointing to this in ILY: Mahiru's bow around her neck and the way it is here in ILY is very odd, like it’s supposed to be some kind of noose around her neck. It doesn’t even seem like it can normally come undone like that while they were trekking through the forest, especially since the bow itself is usually fastened and tied up neatly in the outfit she wears with it:
Mahiru is also shown to be barefoot, which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense? Why are you barefoot like your bf is, Mahiru? What is the reason for matching with your bf, who is about to commit suicide in this forest? Were you going to go along with him? Why were you even there in the first place, Mahiru?
Both of these theories could still work though! Whether it be them planning the suicide from the start, or her joining in willingly, I think both of these examples highlight how much little self-regard Mahiru has for her own life. Mahiru has established that she would do anything her lover does (including harmful behaviors such as smoking), and she would do anything for love itself at that. Mahiru would continue to endanger herself if it was for the sake of love, so it doesn't seem too far fetched that she would go along with something so extreme and life ending at that:
And what else does Mahiru say about love, the ultimate form of it? Being always together. Lover's suicides are often done with the intent of being reunited again in heaven and in the next life. A method such as this would definitely help Mahiru and her bf be together forever, right?
How interesting though, that she still does not quite understand why her bf isn't here anymore. Isn't the ultimate form of love always being together? So why then, is he not here anymore? She knows she’s responsible, that she had done something wrong.
But she was just showing her love. And yet, just why?
Why is he not here anymore?
#but yeah most of this is just scattered thoughts so dkfjdfnl#I wanted to finish this because of all the Mappi posting today#with her sheltered life could've contributing to her extremely low self-worth and perpetuating the cycle of being trapped#both for herself and for others who she loves#tw self harm#tw suicide#milgram#mahiru shiina#rose.txt
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Someone on here wrote a Clegan AU where John was a Witch/warlock and Gale was a Witch hunter I think. I can't find it anymore.
But I just wanted to add onto that storyline:
Gale was raised by witch hunters, his father being the head of their group. He grows up wanting to please his father and make him proud.
After being sent on his first solo mission, he meets John. He's Gale's target.
John runs and Gale gives chase. After a while, Gale realises that he's running in circles. This warlock is messing with him.
At one point, he thinks he's caught him, only to be caught in a trap of his own. John teases him some more before bidding him farewell and disappearing in thin air.
Gale returns home unsuccessful, his father's disappointed glare makes him want to find John even harder.
So he promises he won't give up.
Over the course of many weeks turned to months, Gale has many encounters with the warlock.
Each time, Gale gives it his all to try and capture John, but it still always feels as though the warlock is teasing and having his fun.
Over time, Gale starts to enjoy their little game, to the point where he doesn't chase John anymore. He simply seeks out the man's company.
They spend time together, the talk and laugh and enjoy their surroundings together. Gale lets down his guard.
One day, John lets himself be captured by the young hunter. Gale doesn't know what to do. He hugs John. He's excited. He'll finally make his father proud.
He pulls at his prisoner as he guides him back to his guild. But right before they get there, Gale falters.
He doesn't know now why. John does.
He undoes the chains that Gale had gently wrapped around his wrists with a flick of his finger. Gale isn't surprised.
John smiles and kisses his forehead, before disappearing once more.
Gale doesn't try to stop him.
He returns home, empty handed once more. But this time, something happens.
Something terrible.
His father ushers him to a secluded area in the woods. There are other members of the witch hunting guild gathered around.
As they get closer, Gale realises that they have something tied up. Once he sees what it is, Gale feels sick.
It's a child.
A little girl.
A witch. They say. They'd tied her to the trunk of a tree. They seemed to be lighting a fire.
Gale demands that they let her go.
His father dismisses him. He goes on a rant about how all beings capable of witchcraft are the devil's spawn.
For the first time in his life, Gale sees his father in a different light. He sees the crazed glint in his eyes.
Gale acts before he thinks.
He somehow manages to free the little girl and helps her escape.
His father is furious.
The other witch hunters drag him back to the guild and lock him in the dungeon for a week.
It's to teach him a lesson, his father says. He cannot empathize with them. They are evil, his father says. Gale doesn't believe him.
How could a child be evil? What had she done to deserve such a horrible fate?
He thinks of John. Of all the times Gale tried to capture him. The way he smiled so warmly at him. At his enemy.
Not once had John hurt him with his magic. He'd play along and trap him somehow. But he never hurt him. Never used his magic with malicious intent.
Gale wanted to cry
Who was his father to preach such delusions of Justice?
Gale needed to leave. Leave this horrid place.
After being locked up and released a week later, Gale rushed to the forest. He needed to find John.
Search as he may, he can't find him anywhere. He worries. What if something bad had happened to him?
He returns to the guild, and overhears the others talk about a giant witch raid they plan on executing in a few days time.
Gale shudders at the thought. The lengths of which these people would go to to capture witches made him sick.
He sneaks out once more, through the cover of darkness. He has to warm them. John. That little girl. Anyone who'd listen.
He makes his way through the forest once more. As he walks, he feels as though someone is watching him.
Before he can take out his weapon, an arm wraps itself around his waist and yanks him up. Gale closes his eyes tightly and holds on to the strong arm that holds him.
He opens his eyes slowly and gasps. He's floating. They're floating. John is here.
He teases Gale as he always does wondering where he'd been all week. Gale is so happy to see him, he starts to cry.
John's joyful expression disappears in an instant. He lowers them to the ground and gently cups his face. He asks what's wrong.
And how on earth had Gale ever thought that the man before him could be evil? How could he have ever thought that John was anything but good?
Gale warns him about his father's plans. He tells John about the little girl. He tells him to run away.
John listens to him and nods. He'll leave. He'll warn the others. They'll go somewhere safe.
John asks Gale to go with them. Gale is shocked at how easily his mind accepts the offer.
He agrees to run off with them. He's never seen John with a wider smile. Gale smiles back.
John takes him to the others. They have a guild of their own. Sort of. A sanctuary for all magic beings.
John introduces Gale to his friends, other witches and warlocks he considers family.
Gale greets them nervously. They all welcome him with open arms.
So kind, is the first thing Gale thinks when he gets to know them.
He meets Curt, John's closest friend. A warlock specialized in wild magic.
He meets Rosie, bubbles and Crosby, travelling warlocks who come and go as they please.
He meets Lemmons and Winks, warlocks who have mastered potion creation.
He meets Dr. Hale and Marge, witches who specialise in herbology, medicine and healing.
So many different people. All wonderful people. Gale wants to know them all.
He thinks of his father and sobers up. He warns them about the witch hunting guild. About their plans to burn the forest to the ground, to kill as many of them as they can.
They all agree that it's time to leave this place. Gale stays with them for a while, but knows he must return home soon before his father becomes suspicious.
John wraps his arms around his waist once more and whispers for him to hold on. Gale wraps his arms around the young warlock's neck as this one takes flight.
Gale is awestruck at the scenery before him. Flying above the clouds. In the night sky. Stars shimmer all around them. He can't help but admire his surroundings in wonder.
He doesn't notice the warlock's soft gaze on him.
Soon, they reach the guild. John floats down to Gale's bedroom window. Gale doesn't ask how he knows which room is his.
He opens the window gently. He turns back to John.
Three days.
That's the agreed upon date.
In three days they'll meet by the forest entrance and catch up to the others who'll have already left.
John kisses his cheek and turns to leave, but Gale can't help himself. He yanks him back and gives him a kiss. A real kiss.
John melts under his touch and pulls him in.
After releasing each other, they can't help but chuckle. John kisses him once more before bidding him goodnight.
Gale watches him leave.
He shuts his window, and climbs into bed.
He falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Soon.
Unfortunately for both John and Gale, his father had witnessed the entire interaction.
Gale wakes up gagged and blindfolded, with metal chains around his wrists. He feels like he's being moved. On a carriage of some sort.
After what feels like hours, the vehicle stops. Footsteps can be heard. Rough hands yank him out.
He stumbled to the ground. He doesn't have time to process anything, he's being yanked up once more and dragged across the dirt.
He can hear voices. Murmurs and whispers. He recognises them.
Members of the witch hunting guild. People he grew up with. People he used to call family. What a Joke.
He feels as they tie him up to something hard.
They remove his blindfold.
He shivers at the sight.
Dozens of members of the guild watching him from below. Hatred clear in their eyes. Waiting for something to happen.
Gale looks down and sees piles of wood all around him.
A Pyre.
Gale realises what's about to happen.
He looks up as the crowd parts, making way for their leader. His father's heavy footsteps approach.
His father stops when he's near enough.
He looks at Gale. A disappointed look. Gale glares right back.
His father doesn't acknowledge him. He turns back to the others and starts to rant.
He speaks of the evil of witchcraft. Of the treachery and malevolence of magic. He rambles on about Justice and fairness to the world.
Everyone around them cheers. Gale scoffs.
His father turns back to him. And he glares at him. There is no love in his eyes. Only hatred. Gale is unfazed.
Three days
That makes Gale look at his father.
He'd overheard them. He'd seen John and him last night. His father reprimands him for colluding with the enemy.
Gale is sick of this. Sick of him. He talks back.
He tells his father he's wrong about magic. He's wrong about witches and warlocks. They're good. They use their powers for others. They want peace.
Compared to his father, anyone would be a saint. Even the devil himself.
His father grins and shakes his head. He tells him he's going to die. He tells him he has no son.
Gale smiles and replies, he's glad he doesn't have a father.
The monster before him grabs a torch and lights it on fire.
The creature comes closer and throws it into the pyre. The fire starts to spread.
The beast and it's minions howl in excitement.
He can feel the flames lick at his feet.
The monster taunts him.
Who will save you now? Your warlock is nowhere to be found.
Gale closes his eyes.
He thinks of what could have been.
A life of freedom. A life with people who were caring and loving and good.
A life with John.
A tear slides down his cheek. He smiles.
At least he knows that the others will be safe from the monsters attack.
He hopes they all live long and wonderful life's. He may not have known them for long, but he knows they deserve it.
The flames surround him.
John's gentle smile remains his mind.
All else disappears.
No noise, no montsers.
Nothing.
He wouldn't mind dying like this.
A sudden booming sound as loud as lightning cuts through the air.
He feels raindrops against his cheek
Gale opens his eyes as gasps.
The sky.
It had been clear a second ago. Now it was covered with dark, menacing clouds. It starts to pour.
Towering above them, in the distance, a figure floating above them all. Confusion struck amongst the beings in the crowd.
But Gale knows.
He smiles as he looks to the skies.
He'd come for him.
John.
Gale hears the screams far too late.
He looks around and shivers. The pure chaos unfolding before his eyes is tremendous. Hunters are struck down one by one, by invisible forces all around them.
Gale watches as they try to run away in terror, but it's too late. They had made John angry. Gale hadn't even thought such a thing possible.
He feels a gentle caress on his wrist, and when he looks down, he notes that his arms and legs have been untied.
He recognises that gentle magic instantly.
He climbs down from the pyre as he watches John in all his splendor.
He looks terrifyingly beautiful. Like an angel of vengeance.
The amount of power he holds. And not once had he used it for evil. Gale can't help but fall even more in love.
After what can only be moments, the screaming stops. Gale looks around and sees bodies crumpled to the ground.
He knows he should feel something. Sadness, fear, hatred. But he doesn't. These creatures were alive and now they were dead. That's all there was to it.
John floats down and embraces him softly. Gale wraps his arms around him. They hold each other for a while.
"Are you alright, my love?" John asks.
Gale nods as he tucks his head into the taller man's neck. He breathes in his scent and sighs.
"Can you walk?" He asks, Gale hums. John picks him up anyways.
Gale clings to him and smiles.
"You came for me." John tightens his grip on Gale and smiles.
"I'll always come to you, always." He promises.
John turns to leave when they hear a scraping sound.
They look in the distance and see the beast clawing away from them. It drags it's corpse like body across the ground.
They watch it for a moment and Gale recognises it. That thing is what remains of his father. Gale thinks, at least now he looks as terrible on the outside as he was on the inside.
He won't last long. Gale tucks his head back into John's shoulder and kisses at his neck.
"Shall we go to the others, my love?" John asks him.
Gale nods. "A couple days early though." He spills out. John chuckles as he carries him away from the massacred area.
"I'm sure the others won't mind. They loved you from the moment they met you, just like me." He says softly. Gale smiles as he looks up.
"You loved me when you met me?" He can't help but ask. He can see a gentle blush creep on to John's cheeks as he nods. Gale smiles.
He pulls him down, and presses their lips together, a soft and tender kiss.
"I think, I loved you too." he confesses. John smiles widely and starts to float up to the clouds. Gale doesn't tighten his grip. He knows John won't drop him.
He closes his eyes and feels the breeze graze his skin.
Freedom at last.
They make their way to a new land.
To new beginnings.
To a happy future.
_________
Goodness, I wasn't going to write all that.
Anywho, John whisks Gale into the air and they float to their happily ever after.
As an epilogue I'd say that they all find a new safe haven. They build a life with the other witches and warlocks.
And Gale and John take in the little girl from before and raise her as their own.
The end
🩵🩷🩵🩷🩵🩷
#clegan#fanfiction#mota#masters of the air#john egan#gale cleven#buck x bucky#john x gale#fanfic#ao3 fanfiction#austin butler#callum turner#callum turner x austin butler#writing prompt#writing#fic prompt#fic ideas
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giving my ldb a daughter. embarrassing for all involved. mostly me
#her mom is an orc and her dad is a wood elf so she's going to be a very pointy orc. angular#like ok i suppose i leaned a little heavy on the elf features but also shes 12. she'll develop more orcish features. Not My Fault 😐#mimiart#weird little girl who pretends to be a wolf -> actual werewolf pipeline#elder scrolls#skyrim#shes sooo sweet and smiley :) idk where that comes from. not either of her parents. neither a point for nature nor nurture#calling her Khara for now. might change idk#re: my caption its only embarrassing because of who she had the child with. he fucking sucks#but so does she which is why they get along and they make each other worse. but also sometimes better#whatever. they love each other and their weird kids#at first they said “no kids absolutely the fuck not” then they decided to adopt alesan because like. hes already pretty much self sufficien#like he had a job and everything right. this will be a breeze hes already pretty much a fully formed human we can just help him out#by letting him sleep in our house right. and then like not even a full year later uloth gets pregnant oops 😬#does anyone here know how to keep a baby alive. thankfully uloth has amassed basically a small village of followers/friends/housecarls#some more responsible and knowledgeable than others. so dw the kids are okay and not dead#they just keep the necromancy and shady black market trading and unethical experiments OUTSIDE THE HOUSE#tes#ocs#oc#khara has only broken her dads finger once. orc grip you know how it is
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Also, Ruan Mei was the one who lent the Phase Flame to Ratio, wasn't she?
#That Ratio and her were working together seemed to be the case since we first found him but idk#Ruan Mei plays dumb when we ask about him but I thought it was clear that she did know him#Herta also pretends she doesn't know him for some reason#cringefail acquaintance#Jokes aside I wonder why they did that. Is it because they both are ehm working behind each other's back#(Herta when it comes to the IPC‚ the SU and the bet‚ Ruan Mei kind of with everything)‚ or is it due to some other more complex reason?#Based on we've seen thus far I do think Ratio and Ruan Mei were working together in something#and that she was in the known of at least some things. Perhaps not everything#She seems to care about things beyond her research even less than Herta does#But given what we're told it seems fair to conclude the fire Ratio had was given to him by Ruan Mei#Herta said Ruan Mei needed it for some research. So either she didn't need it anymore and didn't mind giving it to Ratio afterwards#or maybe what Ratio was doing was something she was a part of. Or did Ratio steal it when he was around the seclusion zone?#I'm not inclined to think that tbh it seems to me Ruan Mei must have been knowingly implied. Yet now she owes Herta a favour#Which is more valuable according to Herta. This quest has left me very curious about the development of all this#Screwllum suspected Ratio since the beginning. I wonder if he suspects Ruan Mei too#Ruan Mei's line about Screwllum makes it seem like they don't get along too well I think. I have so many questions xD#I am very curious about all this‚ satisfied and potentially excited. Not yet excited but I sure have hopes for an exciting development haha#Maybe it will all end up being nothing but the relationships between the characters in the Genius Society (especially these three)#seems kind of messy and that intrigues me. The relationship the three of them have with Ratio seems intriguing too#Any iteration of these dynamics seems to be very interesting#Maybe it will all end up being nothing or I may be misreading or seeing more than there is but I am looking forwards to knowing more#I talk too much#Traces
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.
#I only have two friends so i really cannot afford to be as annoyed at this one as i am#especially considering the weirdness with my (former) neighbor. like. things should be simple with my former roommate then#but man#GIRL I HATE YOUR HUSBAND#I HATE HIM#HE GOT A [REDACTED] ON THE [REDACTED ADMISSIONS TEST] BECAUSE HE#DID NOT STUDY EVEN THO YOU BEGGED HIM TO FOR THE WHOLE SUMMER AND NOW YOURE PLANNING ON TAKING OUT THREE YEARS OF#STUDENT LOANS FOR HIM TO GO TO SCHOOL FOR WHAT REASON WHEN HE HAS NEVER DEMONSTRATED#HE IS CAPABLE OF SUCCEEDING IN SCHOOL TO THE DEGREE THAT MAKES THAT WORTHWHILE#ITS LITERALLY DEFINITELY NO DOUBT ABOUT IT BECAUSE HE SAW YOU DOING THIS AND THOUGHT HE COULD DO IT TOO#BECAUSE HE THINKS HE IS SMARTER THAN YOU. HE THINKS IF SHE CAN DO IT IT MUST BE EASY. BECAUSE HE THINKS HE IS THE SMARTEST#PERSON IN THE WORLD EVEN THOUGH ALL HE DOES APPARENTLY IS PLAY VIDEO GAMES#AND SLEEP UNTIL ONE PM. HERES AN IDEA IF HIS JOB IS ONLY FOUR DAYS A WEEK AND YOU GUYS ARE SO SO POOR#HOW ABOUT HE GETS A WALMART JOB OR SOMETHING??? We'd Never See Each Other WELL HE SLEEPS UNTIL ONE PM SO WHEN DO YOU SEE HIM NOW#ALSO OF COURSE YOUR FAMILY HATES HIM. HE IS VERY BAD TO BE AROUND.#AND EVEN IF HE WASNT CHARMLESS THE FACT THAT HE GAVE YOU AN EXTENDED MONTHS LONG MENTAL BREAKDOWN AFTER BREAKING UP WITH YOU MEANS THAT#YOUR FAMILY WILL NEVER TRULY LIKE HIM. AND THATS FINE. THEYRE CIVIL AND GET ALONG. BUT STOP TRYING TO FORCE YOUR DAD TO HAVE A ONE ON ONE#RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM WHY ARE YOU SO INTERESTED IN GETTING THEM TO TALK WITHOUT BEING INVOLVED??? ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU TALKED TO YOUR OWN#FATHER WITHOUT HIM BEING INVOLVED ONCE AND HE SAID DONT EVER DO THAT AGAIN WHICH WHAT THE FUCK BY THE WAY#also you don't have to go to your in laws wedding and they weren't obligated to think of your exams when picking the date#also if you're so poor stop buying Starbucks every time i see you and especially stop buying food#there's stuff you complain about not being able to afford which would literally be like five Starbucks visits if that#you were annoying about money when we lived together and you are annoying about it now if your husband isn't hanging out with us I don't#want to fucking buy him dinner too#while you complain there isn't any organic garlic powder at the store and toss whole bottles of lotion because they have unclean ingredient#you seem not to grasp that you and he are in an insanely horrible financial situation like crazy awful bad and when your student loans kick#in next year it's going to become obvious.#and you want a baby in two years??? you need to start thinking about how not to let it end up in indentured servitude#because again you are about to take out big time student loans for your husband's latest in a long string of dreams and they're bigger#because he didn't do well in school or prove himself capable in any way so he is unlikely to receive a scholarship
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love the idea of an isekai historical fantasy reverse harem where the guy returns to the present and finds out there are modern counterparts to all the women in his harem BUT it's from the point of view of his girlfriend from before he got zapped to the past
#random thoughts#pov your boyfriend gets hit by a car and goes into a coma for a month and when he wakes up he starts acting weird#he has newfound time blindness and other symptoms which are obviously caused by a concussion right?#... so why does he seem so. experienced. in treating the symptoms?#(he has experienced symptoms related to magic use for years in his absence)#why is he suddenly being so social to a bunch of girls in your school who don't even know each other much less himself?#(they have to remember right? they have to remember all the years they spent with him right? he's not alone. right?)#imagine your boyfriend going into a coma and dreaming an entire fantasy world including your classmates but not you#or even worse what if you're the evil empress??? or the evil witch? or a snooty princess he's arranged to marry?#or would that be worse? would it be worse to be villianized by your boyfriend's subconscious or to not be there at all?#of course when you find out about the dream and his beliefs about it you think he's delusional. he's obsessed with women he barely knows#would the women not conform to his expectations? would they fall into the delusion?#god the horror of the first option. a man making assumptions about you and him being confused. almost angry when you correct him.#i do think this would end with your boyfriend disappearing along with one of the girls (maybe the one he married in the fantasy world?)#and him molding her into his perfect fantasy bride until she begins to believe#maybe in the fantasy world they all had marks somewhere on their bodies from where they drew their magical powers#so he ends up branding her#whenever they engage in conversation he feeds her information and corrects her when she makes mistakes#and she's like 'oh silly me! how forgetful'#how long would they be missing? i imagine they would disappear to a cabin in the woods. long-abandoned.#they fix it up and farm and fish and occasionally make trips into a nearby town for supplies#they would at least last a winter there#in the dream world they had kids. how would he react if they had kids and they didn't look like the ones from the dream world?#would he even remember their faces? how much does he remember and how much is he making up?#anyway they have a kid. a son. born in the cabin. they're found when he's around four?#one of his first memories is a swat team breaking down the door and scooping him up#the boyfriend is pronouned not guilty by reason of insanity and is placed in a mental institution#later on i imagine he'd write a book about what he experienced in his coma#his 'wife' goes on to live with her parents and son. holds no hatred towards him#god love old cheesy ableist horror
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Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.
— Kate Bornstein on the word "tranny" in this oral history from the Digital Transgender Archive
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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]
Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load.
“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”
Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now.
Because that would be totally crazy...right?
Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader
Word Count: 10.8k
Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"
Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.
The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.
Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.
And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.
The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.
“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”
Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself.
Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.
Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.
The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.
“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.
Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked.
When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.
He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.
“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”
“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask.
Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.
“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”
“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.
“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”
You cock an eyebrow at him.
“What kind of change?”
Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.
Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”
…
Huh?
“Here.”
Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.
Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.
“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.
Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.
“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”
You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.
“...did he consent to this?”
Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.
“Not yet, but he will.”
The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.
“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”
“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.
“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.
“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”
Wriothesley sighs.
“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”
You grin, holding your head high.
Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.
“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”
You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.
“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”
Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”.
Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.
“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.
Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.
Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building.
“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.
“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”
She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.
“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”
“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands.
“Take this when you go in, that should help.”
“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.
You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.
Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.
Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment.
Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.
Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?
“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”
Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.
“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”
“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”
Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.
“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”
For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.
Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.
“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.
“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.
Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.
“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”
“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”
Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…
“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”
“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”
Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.
“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”
Alright then, time to break out the big guns.
“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”
The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.
“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”
Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.
“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”
Both men look your way. You smile.
“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”
Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.
“Good! Glad that’s settled.”
With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.
“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.
You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.
…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.
“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.
Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…
“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”
Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.
“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”
“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.
“Now, what can I assist you with?”
While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.
He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket.
Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.
While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.
By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.
“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”
“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.
So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.
Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.
“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”
“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”
“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”
How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?
Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.
Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.
“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”
“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”
You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—
“I'll have to keep that in mind.”
—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.
In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.
It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).
However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.
When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.
“You may go home for the day.”
You blink, looking around for the time.
“...will you continue working?”
“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”
You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.
“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.
“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”
“9am will be fine.”
“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”
“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.
His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.
The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.
“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”
And really, who would pass up that offer?
So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.
Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.
“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”
“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours.
“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.
“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”
He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.
“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you.
“Nonetheless, thank you.”
With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.
You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.
As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today.
From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.
And he seems to be…for the most part.
Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.
Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.
You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).
By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.
Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day.
He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.
However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.
“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you.
“Is it possible that you’re sick?”
Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.
“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.
After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.
A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.
…huh.
Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.
He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.
You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.
Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.
You jump to your feet.
“Neuvillette—?!”
“Leave.”
There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.
“What—”
You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.
“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.
Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?
Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.
“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”
Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.
Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.
“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.
He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.
Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…
A scent that he wants to chase after.
He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.
Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.
As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.
On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be.
You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.
It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.
So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.
You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.
As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.
In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.
Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.
You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…
You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…
Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.
Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright.
So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.
A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.
In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.
“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.
Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.
Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.
And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.
A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat.
You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.
Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.
Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy—
“I told you not to return here.”
The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.
He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening.
You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.
“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice.
“I sent you away for a reason.”
His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks.
His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm.
However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.
The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.
“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.
“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.
You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.
“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”
“Me,” he responds.
His words send electricity up your spine.
“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.
“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”
He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.
“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”
A rut.
The word hits you like a train.
“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”
He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…
At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.
His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.
Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.
“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”
The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.
“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.
“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”
Run.
Run.
Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back.
His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.
All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.
You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat.
Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.
But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him.
In fact, it will probably be painful.
Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.
You’re scared, but—
Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette.
You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.
Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.
“Why didn’t you leave, you—”
His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.
He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.
“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.
Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.
“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass.
The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.
“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay.
“This is wrong of me…”
The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.
A quiet laugh leaves you.
“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”
Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.
And, of course, it does.
He takes a deep breath—
“Thank you—”
—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.
The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.
The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.
He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.
His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.
Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe.
Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.
However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.
He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.
He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.
He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—
Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.
You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.
Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.
In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.
The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.
He pries your legs apart.
You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.
His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.
As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.
His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.
But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.
No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.
The first taste of his meal.
You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.
He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.
And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.
His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.
…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.
You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.
“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.
You've never felt anything akin to this before.
“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.
His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.
He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.
Then, his tongue starts to move.
He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.
He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.
He can't stop.
He bullies your g-spot incessantly.
You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body.
You can't control yourself.
The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…
“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”
Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.
Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm.
Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.
And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you.
The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.
The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.
“Neuvillette, you're—”
“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt.
“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.
Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head.
Finally, you're bare beneath him.
He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.
Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.
“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”
And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass.
The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before.
Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger.
He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.
Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away.
You trust that he won't hurt you.
“Ah—!”
He slips a second finger inside of you.
Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.
It's all so much.
“Neuvillette—”
You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair.
Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.
He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—
Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.
Instantly, you lose it.
A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—
“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”
“Cum.”
He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.
“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.
You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.
Then, he finally relents.
Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.
Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…
You’re ready.
Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.
You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.
Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.
Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.
Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is.
He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—
Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.
…oh.
You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…
Speaking of—
“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.
“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension.
He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.
Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole.
It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.
As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.
“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom.
Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.
Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.
Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.
“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy.
“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin.
Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.
Drunk with desire, he actually growls.
“I—”
I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—
“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours.
His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.
“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”
His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.
Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.
“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”
Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.
Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body.
Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.
You’ve never felt so full.
Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more.
…then, he begins to move his hips.
You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go.
The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.
The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.
Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.
The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss.
Ah…you’re going insane.
A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.
Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.
“Ahh…”
The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.
Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.
Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.
And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.
He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts.
Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you.
You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent.
He’s getting close.
And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.
Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.
Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.
“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips.
“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.
It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.
With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.
His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.
For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you.
You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.
“You did so well,” he tells you.
Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you.
The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.
“I take it you feel a bit better now?”
“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.
“However…”
He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy.
With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.
“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”
When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.
Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station.
He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.
Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)
As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.
Pushing the door open, he heads inside.
“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office.
The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.
“Come in.”
“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.
Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.
“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more.
It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes.
Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body.
He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.
Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.
The office sits in silence for a moment.
“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”
Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.
“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”
His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.
“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”
“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.
“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”
“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.
Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.
Both men smile.
“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”
“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”
“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.
“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”
Wriothesley hums.
“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”
Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”
“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.
“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”
Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze.
Understanding passes between them.
“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”
Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.
“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”
Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.
“I shall hope for the same.”
#genshin impact smut#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette smut#neuvillette fic#genshin impact x reader#bean fic#genshin x reader
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Hi! I’ve read quite a lot of your works and I’ve got to say, you’re a great writer, like oh my god!
I was wondering if you could write a one shot of Alastor with a female reader wife who’s like Beetlejuice? Appearance wise (but more feminine), personality wise and power wise as well. Maybe he hadn’t seen her full power before due to no one chanting her name, but during extermination day, as a last resort, someone does and she kind of just goes full on “beast mode” to protect her husband? What would Alastor’s reaction be? Would he like it?
If you can’t do it, that’s alright! I hope you have a great day! ^^
( ≧ᗜ≦)₊˚⊹♡ OMG NONNIE!! you do not understand how excited i was to write this for you hence beetjuice being one of my favorite movies hehe and thank you so much i hope you enjoy this one !!
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
ghost with the most !
alastor/beetlejuice f!reader
warnings: slight angst, mentions of blood and massacre, some fluff towards the end!!
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
“Wait…sooo you’re telling me chuckles over there has a wife?!” Angel Dust asks his voice raising in disbelief towards the chipper blond in front of him who just so happened to spring this unbelievable information on him.
“Oh sure!” Mimzy raved, with a sort of twinkle in her eye that she only got when she started to gossip. “Under all that creepy and murderous exterior there’s a big ol’ sap! Can’t say I blame him ether — his wife’s a real firecracker! Me and her use to get into all kinds of trouble when we were living!”
She sighs reminiscent on her past looking like she was lost in thought before Angel erupts in bewilderment once more, “There’s no fucking way! I can’t believe i’ve never heard about this…”
Then he suddenly glares at Husk who was unamused by the whole thing. “What?” He huffs with an eyebrow raised, using a towel to wipe off the innards of a dirty glass.
“You knew about this didn’t you…” He eyes him with the worst stink eye making Husk snort, “Listen…I did but that women is bad news and if anyone bothers to say her name three times it’s over…” The cat then places the glass delicately amongst the others before Mimzy gestures for a drink earning a scowl out of him, grabbing the glass once more. “Besides why wouldn’t i know…”
Angel Dust rolls his eyes, resting his cheeks in a pair of his hands taking all this new information in, then sitting up straight again. “Wait? why three times..”
Mimzy giggles delightfully like a toddler clapping her hands seeing Husk place a full glass in front of her. “It’s like her way of a contract honey, to make sure you truly need her when she’s summoned and she’s not all that bad Huskie she’s just a little eccentric and bizarre is all, but truly a fun gal!”
Husk lets out an annoyed huff turning his back to her as she downs her drink in one big gulp with a small hiccup following. “Besides no one’s seen her in years, bless her damned soul…” Mimzy goes back to being reminiscent once more, but this time with a frown forming on her face which was unusual for her.
“Anyways tits, are ya joining us tomorrow? Gonna be a riot.”Angel Dust attempts at changing the subject though he still wanted to know more, seeming that his question somewhat spooked her she started readying herself to leave.
“No, no, no sweetheart! As much as I loooove a good brawl, this one is just not my cup of tea, kick ass though, choa!” And like that the tiny little blonde broad was gone out the door.
Leaving Angel to stew on all this information he just consumed, his eyes then wandering on the grouch in front of him with a smirk playing on his face.
“Wanna fuck before we die?”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.”
⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🪲
On Extermination Day it wasn’t looking so hot for the Hazbin crew.
Each and everyone getting hit down one by one like a domino effect without really too much that they could do about it with their fire power seeming to not be enough like they thought.
Angel Dust looks along the battle field, spotting most of his friends injured or worse and none other than Alastor actually getting his ass kicked. Causing the spider insane amounts of uneasiness, when suddenly an idea clicks.
“Y/n…..,” Angel Dust hesitates thinking back to what Husk said about you and how this could possibly turn out. “Ah fuck it….Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” He gives in shouting it as loud as he possibly could and within an instant the sky above the hotel swirled in green, causing many sinners and angels to look into the direction of it completely in awe of what it could be.
Alastor holding his chest as the gash across it starts to burn profusely, he notices everyone had stopped for some odd reason making him look in the direction of what had caught everyone’s attention, and if that man’s smile wasn’t permanently on his face already you would’ve saw the biggest grin known to man.
Suddenly a loud noise of a playful accordion rips through the air in a circus theme. ( https://youtu.be/gwsR5gOKK1U?feature=shared sounds something like this if your curious.) “Attention Kmart shoppers!” Your sweet yet sinister voice echoes throughout everyone’s ears with a menacing giggle following. “CLEAN UP ON ISLE SEVEN!! ,” Everyone looks around confused without noticing your form appearing in the middle of a bunch of the Exterminators, Angel Dust finally getting a good look at you causing his jaw to drop. Green hair flowed down your shoulders, a white and black striped dress hugged your body as two large mallets adorned both hands with a mischievous grin that could put Alastor’s to shame, then spinning both mallets around before giving quick blows to each and every dumbfounded exterminator that you saw, leaving an absolute massacre in your wake. Chest heaving with golden blood on your face, when you suddenly notice them, quickly wiping the blood with your striped sleeve and made your way over.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
(dress ref!!)
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
Your green cloud forms behind a unsuspecting Adam with a pointed black nail coming out to tap his shoulder. He looks around aimlessly before facing Alastor once more, and then suddenly a large golf club appears with you on the other end of it with a golfers cap on your head. “FOUR!” Is shouted from your lips as you suddenly swing it with much force sending the douche bag flying lord knows where.
You hold your hand over your eyes pretending you saw where he was going, but then quickly snapped out of it to tend to your lover. “Always know how to make an entrance my dear,” Alastor says rather proud of his wife for being able to keep her cool all while kicking ass. “Oh you know I can’t help myself when there’s a crowd!” You dust yourself off before you do your best to help him up seeing his gash slowly dissipating into nothingness leaving just the rip in his nice dress shirt making you frown. “Awww Al, he ruined my favorite shirt!” You then loose track of what you were upset about and start playing with the hole delicately skimming your fingers across his skin, making him shiver as you made it seem like a mouth making ‘nom, nom,nom’ noises until Alastor cleared his throat.
“Sorry babe..” He chuckles down at you while then patting your head, before you wrap your arm around him taking him back to his friends.
“That’s quite alright…now how about we do some catching up, i want to hear all about your adventures,” He says looking down at you feeling how much he really missed this, missed you, clinging to you close like he never wanted to let you go again while you two walked.
Your eyes light up, bouncing up and down giddily next to him before jabbering on the rest of the way about things like almost getting eaten by a sand worm and practically ruining a recently deceased married couples start on the after life.
And of course Alastor was happy to hear all of it from his precious wife who he adorned and loved very much…
#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings#☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s#☆⋆｡𖦹 alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin imagine#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor
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So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.
So.
It's okay. B, maybe a C+.
That's it.
Now for the spoilers:
The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.
The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.
The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.
Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.
The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.
The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.
Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.
In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.
And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?
Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.
In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"
They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.
It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.
To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.
#avatar the last airbender#atla#atla spoilers#avatar netflix#netflix avatar#atla live action#netflix atla#zuko#iroh#katara#aang#sokka#zhao#ozai#review
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𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃
Choso
Pairing: Bass Guitarist!Choso x f!Reader
Summary: You usually hang out with Choso after his concerts, only this time he wants to talk about your relationship. Luckily for you, you know how to distract him from important matters.
Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Friends with Benefits, Car Sex, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play, Squirting, Creampie, Angst if you squint
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This art was sent in my server and I was forced to write about him in this AU, anyway I hope you lovelies enjoy!! likes and reblog always appreciated❤️
There’s a whole crowd that screams Choso’s name from the top of their lungs as his fingers strum against the strings of his bass. Choso, a very reserved man, someone who is not even the star of the band but the most beloved amongst fans. Is it because they barely know anything about him? Or is it because he looks too hot while he really gets into the song? For you, it’s the latter.
Choso lets himself loose as his mind, body and soul embrace the song. It becomes an issue for him to stay close to the microphone, until he realizes his vocals come up. He’s sweaty, his eyeshadow smudged and running down his cheeks; it’s a look that drives the fangirls wild, and you can’t exactly blame them for it.
They get louder when they hear Choso’s voice, and you wonder if it drives Suguru insane that even though he’s the lead vocalist, he doesn’t get as much attention as Choso. There’s just something about Choso that has everyone in a trance. He looks so seductive even when he barely tries.
The song ends, and the crowd cheers, wanting more from the band. For a moment the only thing you hear is the crowd chanting Choso’s name. You don’t understand why they go wild over him, but then again, you guess that the lack of knowledge about him makes him intriguing. However, you know all you need to know about him.
“I really don’t get why they go so crazy over him! I’d argue that Getou is hotter.” You yell to your friend, and she rolls her eyes. She knows you’re just talking to talk because given the option, you always choose Choso.
The noise dies as the sound of the bass begins again. All eyes are on Choso until Suguru begins to sing. Your eyes stay on Choso, and his eyes scan the crowd until they land on you. A smile comes onto his face as you maintain eye contact. His eyes finally look away, looking down at his guitar. You know you’ll be seeing each other later.
Just to tease you, he does something that he rarely does. Something that makes the crowd get louder, his tongue running up the neck of his guitar. You roll your eyes as your cheeks get hot. You fucking hate him.
You have no issue getting backstage after the show. The security guard looks at your friend funny, but he knows you so he assumes that she’s okay to pass. He doubts that anyone will have a problem since you’re beloved among the band members.
“Hi, Lexi.” You wave at the woman who talks with her boyfriend. Suguru’s arm is thrown over her shoulders while they head to the door that you just walked through. She waves at you, blowing a kiss your way before focusing on her boyfriend again.
“Where’s Gojo?” Your friend asks, her eyes searching for the white haired man, after all, she joined you just because she knew you could get her the opportunity to talk to Satoru. You were going to come either way since Choso sent you a message, it didn’t hurt for her to tag along.
You’re about to help her, but your eyes land on Choso. There’s a subtle smile on his face when he notices you. He walks toward you, and you completely ignore your friend as she continues asking about Satoru. She rolls her eyes, knowing damn well that you were acting tough and annoyed as everyone chanted Choso’s name because according to you he isn’t a big deal. It’s clear jealousy.
From what she knows, you and Choso have an unusual friendship– Which is another way of saying that you’re friends with benefits. You both came to an agreement where you could use each other’s bodies with no strings attached, however, tonight it might all come to an end. Whether you like it or not.
“I’m glad to see you here.” Choso says as you give him a side hug. You don’t like to get too touchy while others are around. He still kisses the top of your head, before he looks at your friend. “Who did you bring with you tonight?”
“Just my friend. She wants to meet Gojo.” You tell him, as his fingers intertwine with yours. Choso calls out for Satoru, hoping that the sooner your friend meets Satoru, the sooner you’ll get out of the place. Although getting out of the place so soon isn’t the best idea since there’s still an army of fans outside that will do just about anything to get a picture with Choso.
The band’s popularity has increased over the past couple of months, and suddenly Choso always has someone throwing themselves at him. It ticks you off more than you’d like to admit.
“What?” Satoru asks, clear annoyance in his voice. He notices you and he begins to approach you to give you a hug, but it earns a glare from Choso. All the members know you well and they consider you a good friend, which means they all know your situation with Choso. When Satoru notices the look, he sticks with a simple greeting. “Hey.”
“Hi, Gojo.” You smile at him. You then point to your friend, informing him, “She’s here to meet you.”
“Are you her ride home?” Choso questions, and you shake your head in response. She brought you here knowing that you would go your separate ways after the concert. She saw the message that Choso had left on your phone, and she urged you to come. “Does that mean we can leave?”
“I think so.” You answer. You still check to see if she’s okay being left alone with Satoru before leaving. When she says yes, you lead Choso out of the building. Your eyes stare at the case of his guitar and you ask, “Do you need help? I’m really strong, just so you know.”
He laughs, “No doubt about it, but I can handle it.”
“You’re in a hurry.” Choso comments when you step outside. He takes the lead, dragging you to his car.
“Weren’t you the one that was asking if we could leave?” You chuckle, and he laughs as well. He opens the trunk to put the case in before walking to the passenger door and opening it for you. He watches you get inside before he shuts the door for you. He nearly runs to the driver’s side, embarrassingly impatient.
“Do you want to join Lexi and Suguru tonight? Or what do you want to do?” Choso isn’t exactly the person to go hang out with his friends after a concert, especially at a bar. But he knows that you like that sort of stuff, so he sticks with you until you’re ready to go back home– Or back to his apartment, whichever place is closest to the place you’re hanging out in.
“Can we just go back to your place?” You respond, your eyes focused on his side profile. You were too jealous earlier to admire just how good he looks tonight.
“Can we talk about–” He begins, but you grab the collar of his shirt and put your lips on his before he can finish his sentence. You know he wants to talk about the message that he sent, something that made you want to stay home tonight. Can we talk about us? Or something along those lines, you just know that you don’t want to change this perfect arrangement.
Your tongue enters his mouth, pressing against his while your hands go to his belt. He doesn’t know why you’re so eager tonight, it doesn’t click in his head. Maybe the little trick from earlier worked to rile you up, and he’s certain that it was that when you unbutton his pants and begin to pull them down.
“Here? Aren’t you scared–” He begins when you pull away from the kiss but you begin to kiss his neck. Your lips go to that one sweet spot that makes him weak, sucking on it. You aren’t scared that you’ll get caught, that’s good to know. He’s the one that should be worried about getting caught since he’s the one that has to hold a public image.
The parking lot is private, and it’s pretty much empty. He isn’t too worried about that.
“Don’t you want to go somewhere more private?” He still asks but he doesn’t bother to stop you as you spit on his cock, your hand wrapping around the base and slowly stroking it.
“We can talk later. Right now, I need your cock in my mouth.” You kiss his shaft before your tongue drags on his length and begins to circle on his tip. You begin to kiss the tip, causing Choso to bite down his lip. He’s certainly not going to stop now.
Your mouth wraps around his cock, hearing the moan whimper just at the feeling of your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Everything you do drives him wild. It’s why he can’t stop you when he wants to talk about more serious issues– Issues that concern your relationship and what you’re doing.
He doesn’t like it like this though. He loves the sight of your pretty face as your mouth is wrapped around his cock. He still loves the feeling though. He praises you, “You’re doing so good, baby.”
You take all of him in your mouth, gagging on his length which causes the tears to build up in your eyes. It’s a sight that usually drives the man wild, although he doesn’t like to admit it; unluckily for him, he only sees the back of your head.
His head is thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You have complete control over him, and he hates it. But he certainly loves the way he feels at the moment. When the tears fall from your eyes, you lift up your head, detaching yourself from his cock. Your hand takes over, stroking his cock.
“Can we do it here?” You ask him as your thighs rub against one another, the heat between your legs getting too unbearable. Your libido is too high, you can’t wait to go back to his place. You need him now.
Choso’s cheeks are flushed, and the man’s brain goes a thousand miles per minute. What you’re thinking of is riskier, and if anyone walks by, you’ll get caught. But he doesn’t care. He needs you too.
“Yeah, let’s do it here.” He agrees, and you crawl over to his side. You lift up your skirt, moving your panties to the side. Two of his fingers run through your folds, noting just how wet you are when he’s done nothing to you. The mere thought of him drives you insane.
You align his cock with your entrance before slowly sitting on it. His lips land on yours, feeling your moans vibrate through your tongue as you move on his cock.
You move back and forth on his cock. You feel euphoric as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot.
Choso pulls away, grabbing the back of your neck to pull your face away. He needs to admire your beautiful face, taking in every single detail about it. You look so alluring with your messed up makeup. Your mascara runs down your cheeks, and he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing that he caused it.
“You feel so good, baby.” He moans, his nose burying in the crook of your neck. He takes in your scent, getting more intoxicated by you. You’re controlling all of his thoughts lately, even though you’re not even trying.
“You’re so big.” You say, your back arching as Choso begins to thrust his hips instead of leaving it to you to handle it all. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, giving you more stimulation so your high approaches sooner. The faster you finish, the faster you can go again. “Oh– Choso!”
“Fuck–” He can’t help but curse. He’s getting so lost inside of you. In more ways than one.
His hand pulls down your tank top, and the man gets upset at the bra that gets in the way of what he wants. He pulls down the cups of your bra so his tongue circles around your nipples. He greedily kisses and licks before his mouth finally wraps around one of your tits.
His other hand begins to toy with the nipple that isn’t in his mouth, teasing it and pinching it. All the stimulation makes your brain foggy as your climax begins to get the best of you. You continue to chant his name, getting louder and louder.
“Oh, fuck!” You yell as you come around his cock. You make a mess all over him, squirting on him. You’d be embarrassed with someone else, but Choso has seen you do so much worse– It helps that you know he absolutely loves it. Choso bites down on your nipple before unlatching.
“You’re such a good girl. Making a mess all over me.” His hands move to your hips, his nails digging into your flesh.
“You always take me so well.” He’s kissing your neck, his thrusts getting sloppy. His warm cum fills you up not too long after, and you bite down your bottom lip to not moan. You fucking love it when he fills you up, but he rarely does it. He got too caught up in the moment.
He stays buried inside of you, continuing kissing your neck, going up to your face. He almost whispers, “Can we talk?”
“Your dick is buried inside of me, might as well.” You chuckle, and he awkwardly returns the gesture. His soft eyes look into yours, and the look tells you all you need to know. You were suspecting it since lately Choso has been more… Romantic than what you had agreed upon. Getting flowers weekly isn’t what your friend is supposed to do.
“I want you.” He can’t put it any other way. Choso’s written what feels like hundreds of songs but he can’t find the right words to express himself. You don’t want to have this conversation now, or any time soon for that matter.
You take advantage of his indistinct way of expressing himself. It's not that you don't want him the same way, it's just easier to keep what you have going on. Choso is getting too big so fast, you don't want to start something that'll end up badly. Which is simply ironic.
You reach to the side of the seat, reclining the seat, pushing his back down. Your lips go to his ear, whispering, “You have me.”
It’s not the way he means it, not one bit. But he’ll take it until he can express himself properly.
#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk fanfic#jujutsu choso#choso#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso jjk#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso smut#kamo choso#choso x you#kamo choso smut#choso x y/n#choso x reader smut
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I dreamed that I was working on an ecology research boat and for some reason aboard the boat there was an injured otter. One of my colleagues started feeding it cat kibble and thawed cooked shrimp on a plate and he even taught her to say yes and no. (Pulling a lever on a striped ball was no, on a plain ball was yes.) The otter was very intelligent and she became accustomed to and even fond of humans. She stayed on the boat even after she recovered. She cozied up to human hands to request to be petted on the head. This made another of my colleagues, who was more senior, very upset. She (the colleague, not the otter) explained to him that it is dangerous for wild animals to become acclimatized to humans.
Here’s where it got weird. We tried to reason with the otter to convince her to leave us forever and go back into the wild, since the otter had learned to understand English and could now speak. I told her that she had lost the instinct to bite our hands, and that otters are supposed to bite. She answered that she was sorry that she used to have the instinct to bite us, because it was rude, and that we were her friends. (She figured out it was rude among humans because she noticed that none of us bit each other, not even playing.)
I relayed this answer to the senior colleague who, after cussing out the other colleague for “de-animalizing” the otter, came up with a plan. (De-animalizing, my colleague explained, turns a wild animal into a pet, and “a house-animal is no animal.” She explained this in German. My German is very bad.)
This was the plan: We were to give the otter a “shamanic experience” to make her think she was having a meaningful vision. My senior colleague would drug her, and drape her in the preserved pelt of another otter, so that when she woke up, she would ask herself, ‘who am I?’ And come out of the pelt thinking she was being reborn. I thought draping her in the skin of a dead member of her own species was macabre and possibly itchy, and that the whole “shamanic experience” idea was pure plastic, but the risk was that she would be de-animalized if she stayed with us longer, so I followed along with the plan.
My senior colleague drugged the otter, the otter woke up and crawled out of the other pelt, and then, since I was the intern on the boat, I stomped rhythmically on closed tiptoes in front of the otter and conveyed information to her in a droning song. I chanted about how it was dangerous for wild animals to stay among humans. I don’t think I was wearing a mask, so the otter recognized me and didn’t get why I was doing that weird song and dance. Ritual does not come naturally to otters, even tame ones. Nor are they in the habit of having dream visions.
But she was sort of enthralled by the rhythmic footwork of the dance and she was still a little cross-eyed and high, so she was paying rapt attention to what I was telling her. She asked me, very earnestly, “do corrupt intentions underlie your deeds?” (Meaning humans as a whole, not just me)
I told her, (in a normal voice, no longer doing the song bit) “My friend, some of us are very corrupt. It’s not safe to trust any of us.“
What I said to her was more words than that, but I focused so hard on saying it that I said it with my real still-in-bed body’s mouth and breath, which woke me up. I don’t know if the otter was persuaded to return to the water.
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SORE LOSER - T.N X READER
Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader
Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other
Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?
Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀
Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.
Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?
She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.
In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.
After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.
“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.
He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”
He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.
“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.
“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.
“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.
Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.
He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.
“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.
He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.
“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”
He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.
“Being such a good girl for me.”
He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”
He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.
He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”
Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”
He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.
“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.
She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.
“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”
She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it
He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”
Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.
“Theo!” She gasped.
He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”
“What-“
And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.
She really did hate him.
But he was so hot.
Looks like she had plans for the night.
Part two?
#harry potter#harry potter fandom#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fluff#harry potter smut#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott fic#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott smut#theo nott#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x you#theo nott fluff#theo nott fanfiction#theo nott fic#theo nott smut#lorenzo zurzolo#lorenzo Zurzolo x reader#lorenzo zurzolo smut
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Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)
Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.
And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.
Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks.
She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake.
“Here you go!”
Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.
You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart.
The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife.
She never lets up.
She wants to know you.
“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes.
Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”
“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”
More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.
Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf.
Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”
From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council.
Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.
“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.
—————
The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.
Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.
The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you.
Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.
Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession.
You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.
But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour.
A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.
“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.
You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”
“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”
“I’m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success.
Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.
“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”
“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”
Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”
In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”
“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”
Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand.
Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”
“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”
Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”
“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”
—————
Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.
And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.
While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.
For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.
So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.
Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—
And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.
She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.
At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.
“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”
“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”
Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”
Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.
Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”
“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”
You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.
“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”
When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.
“I-I—”
You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face.
Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.
Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.
You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.
Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.”
You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.
Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to.
She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”
Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”
Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious.
Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable.
A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.
She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.
“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”
Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”
“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.”
If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.
“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”
“Hanni—”
She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”
And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.
Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.
There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.
“Fuck—”
“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.”
She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”
And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further.
Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all.
You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.
Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally.
“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one.
“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.
Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”
“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.
“Only if they allowed it.”
“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”
“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”
Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.
Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.
She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric.
And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought.
“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”
As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.
You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.
Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:
She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again.
From there, everything takes care of itself.
Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.
“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”
You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.
It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine.
“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.
Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.
And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.
It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—
Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.
Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.
Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.
Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”
Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.”
You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.
“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.
“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”
“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”
—————
A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!
P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3
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