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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

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In Between the Bookshelves📚

AU Librarian!Miguel O'Hara x Fem grad student reader

(image isn't mine, found it on Instagram under the account @/ brokenohara and asked for their permission to post it)

Synopsis: a normal trip to the library results in a little bit more than you were expecting when you meet the new librarian on duty. Word count 4.6k

A/N: reposting this new and hopefully improved version of one of my very first Miguel fics I deleted a while back. I tried to make him more awkward and cute🖤🤓. Still not totally confident in the smut but oh well. Writing smut is so hard sometimes? Or maybe my skills have gone down, idk 😫 Hope you enjoy...

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT TOWARDS THE END: FINGERING, ORAL SEX F receiving, Gag(he uses his shirt to muffle your moans) Public sexual activity, talk of anxiety, mention of family troubles and anti-deity/religion language

It's 7:00 pm on a rainy Tuesday night in the middle of October. You just got out of your evening Database Systems class. You can't help but feel poetic as you stroll down the grey, soaked, Manhattan streets twirling your umbrella, hot coffee in a cardboard cup in hand. Your shoulders begin to ache from the thin faux leather straps of your backpack. You're wearing your favorite brown sweater over a short sleeved black dress that hits you mid-thigh, with some holey black tights and your favorite knock-off Doc Martens. Damn, I still need to write that 2 page paper that's due tomorrow..

You decide at the last minute to spend your night at the library. You know you won't get anything done if you go back to your apartment. You spin on your heel and pick up the pace as you head hastily towards the NYIT library in Manhattan.

The library is pretty dead except for a group of three people sitting together in the middle table talking in hushed voices, one woman sitting on the floor scrolling with a laptop, and one jock looking fellow sitting at the computers, cracking his knuckles and bouncing his knee anxiously as he scans his assignment he's typing.

You sit down at the empty table right next to the librarian's desk. Since you're a regular here you recognize Polly, the librarian on duty who is a plump woman who looks to be in her 30s with short curly brown hair, wearing a mustard yellow cardigan and brown corduroy pants tonight. She's stapling papers together and gives you a small nod in acknowledgement as you sit down at the table in front of her desk.

She whispers to you, "I'm actually heading out for the evening, but the new person on duty should be here any minute now if you need any assistance."

You nod, and, speak of the devil, here he comes. You suddenly feel your chest get hot when you lay your eyes on the new librarian.

Tall, dark, and handsome would be the simplest way to define this man's appearance, but that would be a very feeble attempt at doing him justice. Sculpted bicep muscles push against the sleeves of his flannel with the cuffs rolled up halfway on his thick forearms. The flannel is unbuttoned and flaps gently away from his body as he walks, a white t-shirt underneath. He has broad, wide, shoulders and a narrow waist. He's also wearing dark wash athletic jeans and a pair of canvas slip ons. His hair has one stubborn strand in front from his small widow's peak that falls endearingly in the middle of his forehead. His most disarming quality is his eyes. A shade of brown that's earthy and natural like the sediment that decorates stream beds. He wears a stoic expression under large framed glasses.

He nods and mutters a "thank you" to the woman librarian as she shimmies into her coat and leaves. His eyes notice you and latch onto you momentarily. You feel your cheeks grow warm and you turn back to your laptop, unable to resume where you left off, wanting to start a conversation with him but not sure how. After a few painful moments of silence, and a quiet rumble outside from the ongoing rainstorm, you decide to break the ice by telling him your name. He blinks as you tell it to him, and you continue trying to make small talk to try and prod more out of him.

"Have I seen you here before? I come here a lot and I don't think I've met you yet."

"Miguel O'Hara," he answers shortly, but politely. "I'm a grad student. I started working for the university in exchange for assistance with my tuition."

You nod, feeling the heat leave your cheeks a little bit as you realize you could have a normal conversation with this man, and not just be an awkward mess around him the entire time. When he mentions he's a student, you realize you have something in common with him and try to go from there.

"These mid-terms are going to be the death of me. I have just one more paper to turn in then I can finally breathe, thank God..."

Miguel blows a short puff of air out of his nose seemingly in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

He's quiet. Truth is you are too, and you're stepping way more out of your comfort zone than you normally would. Amazing what a pair of charming brown eyes could do to you.

"Honestly, if I had to work anywhere on campus I'd pick the library too. Seems peaceful with minimal people around, and everyone's required to be quiet by default. The ultimate dream workplace."

Miguel can't figure out why this stranger keeps talking to him, but you brought up a point he feels he needs to clarify.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Most people that come in here are loud and inconsiderate as hell. And there's always that one person who hasn't heard of shocking headphones. Always."

The corner of your mouth raises. "God, that would drive me insane. Being a librarian isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No. More like a glorified adult babysitter who knows where the historical fiction section and restrooms are located, and that's about it. That's literally the only two questions I get asked all day." He turns to look at you more fully, this conversation a slight breath of fresh air, the first chance he's gotten in a while to air out his grievances as the night librarian.

He continues, complaining about the horny couples he's had the misfortune of overhearing get busy on the beanbags in the far corner, and the people who leave random drinks and empty chips bags on the shelves and seem to have forgotten what alphabetical order means when they put books back.

You listen to all of it, nodding your head, and let out a cackle at his expressions he's making with those defined, bushy brows of his. He talks with his hands and it's a little endearing to watch him be so animated. This expressive side you've managed to crack through beneath his solemn exterior.

Miguel feels warmth rise in his body at the sound of your laugh for the first time. It's genuine and hearty, and honestly it's funnier than whatever bad quip he just made and he can't help but feel a little more attracted to you after hearing it. You were a good listener, and he appreciated that a lot about you.

You glance at the windows across the room, nodding in its direction with a remark about the weather, how rainstorms are your favorite. He tells you he loves them as well.

Soon, the others have shifted out of the library and he's now sitting in the chair across from you leaning his chin in his hand, listening to you speak as the rain gently pelts the windows outside.

He finds out you're originally from a smaller town, and you came to New York City for college and to escape your overbearing parents. You're 26 years old and trying to finish this Master's degree after taking one too many semesters off. You tell him about your mom who's a bit of a pushover, and your dad who's kind of an asshole.

He tells you he's 29 and has a younger brother who lives on the other side of the city, and his mom is similar to yours. She's kind but tends to set herself on fire to keep her kids warm. Like you, his dad is also a bit of an ass.

You're both introverted, but you can fake it when you need to, which he appreciates, otherwise he never would have been brave enough to say something to you this evening.

You two share a love of education and coffee. You discuss religion.

"I just don't get it, I'm supposed to love this guy and accept Him into my heart because He died for my sins even though I didn't ask Him to do that? But yet if I break any of His rules I get sent to the Inferno for all of eternity?"

"Sounds like a toxic relationship." Miguel quips as he spins your nearly empty coffee cup across the table absentmindedly.

"Exactly!"

You two talk about love as he shuffled some stray books back to their rightful place.

"C'mon, I know you've had to have dated at least once."

Miguel shakes his head. "Well, I did date a girl in high school. Knew her since the 7th grade. But she pretty much ripped my heart out when I saw her making out with one of my buddies on graduation night. I've had a couple dates here and there since then but that's it."

You click your pen. "Damn, so we both have exes from hell that we dated in high school?"

Miguel nods his head. "It would appear we do. I'm sorry you know the pain and annoyance of adolescent heartbreak too."

You shrug your shoulders. "It happens, y'know? It's like one of those things in life you're just meant to experience. It's like, unavoidable you know? And there's nothing you can do about it. What would you call that? Like not a trope per se, but almost like.... destiny?"

Miguel shrugs in return, "Like a canon event?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yeah... exactly. How'd you come up with that?"

The ghost of a smirk appears on his face, "Just made sense to me, I guess."

You two sit at the table again and he asks about your childhood and you explain that you suffered from anxiety as long as you can remember and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

You do your best to try and ignore what feels like his knee pressing against your calf under the table. The thought of touching him sends heat waves through your body, but you remain frozen in place to send the message you're not opposed to more contact. Miguel feels it too, and deep down his leg is falling asleep with the way it's positioned but he's too nervous to move, either.

You both love the nighttime over mornings, and you show him one of your favorite playlists. He smiles at you tenderly as he holds one of the earphones to his ear.

Soon, it's 10:30 pm and he needs to do his closing duties. Luckily, there weren't any patrons who needed his assistance during his whole shift, proving his point earlier. Before he excuses himself, you two sit in silence for the longest time, both trying to gauge if now's the time to say goodbye to one another, but neither of you wanting to actually be the one who does.

Not sure if it was the absence of any light outside, the late hour, the good conversation you two shared, or a combination of all three, but the ripple of attraction you harbored for him has now washed over you completely and morphed into a formidable wave, threatening to take over your whole body, the darkness of this library and persistence of the ongoing storm outside pushing you closer to him.

He's staring at the corner of your laptop, similar feelings ebbing through him, not sure what's got into him. The art of flirting turned itself into uncharted territory for him a longggg time ago.

He finally decided to look at you but you're already looking at him and he snaps his gaze back down onto the bare table below him, silently cursing in his head as a shade of red fluster rises in his cheeks.

You realize you're going to have to be the one to be brave this time again. "Well, this has been fun...."

Miguel scoffs, starting to bounce his leg under the table. "You say that in the most sarcastic tone known to man."

You return with a scoff of your own, adding a smile, "Well I mean, technically you were working this whole time, isn't that boring?"

Miguel shrugs, the heat in his face returning. "You made it more fun..." The volume in his voice decreasing to a murmur.

You look down as well, your heart fluttering in your chest. You really wanted to kiss him. Or just be closer to him, you don't know why. Of course he was cute as hell but after talking to him for hours, there was no denying a spark had formed. You just didn't know whether one or both of you would make the first move to actually do something about it.

Miguel can't believe that he's actually going to try and attempt to ask you to stay longer with him, but he's going to. Just to hang out some more, maybe keep up that amazing conversation you two were sharing just before this. Completely innocent.

Well, if the way the glow from the desk lamp keeps on making your face look so warm and alluring, he's not sure he'll have the strength to shut down any escapades that ensue later, as long as you're completely up for it, of course.

He inhales "Um...so not sure if you have things to do later or..."

You look at him, pupils widening with anticipation at his pending question.

He goes to say, "I was wondering if you wanted to keep hanging out," but it gets combined with the phrase, "Do you want to stay here a little longer," and the word jumbo that exits his mouth is a little incoherent.

"Was wondering if you were wondering to stay and keep hanging longer out?"

You blink rapidly at his blunder, and he groans, placing his face in his hands.

You immediately feel bad for him, shaking your head and sliding a hesitant hand towards his arm. You stumble over your words too sometimes and it's always fucking humiliating when it happens, so you feel no judgement towards him whatsoever. If anything now he's even more attractive. Every little cute thing about him is just pushing you towards him closer than ever before.

Your fingertips skim across the top of the table and press gently into his forearm. He slowly rolls his head to look at you, his cheek resting in his arms as his eyes look at you from behind his glasses which are slightly askew from the way his face is positioned.

His face is still red, but his heart flutters at your sweet smile. "Sorry, my brain just...takes a dump on me when I try to be smooth sometimes..." Miguel mumbles with a weak chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

You shake your head. "I do the same thing...but to answer your question....yes please..." Your voice becomes quieter at the word "please", an trickle of lust you added on purpose, hoping he's picking up on the vibe you're putting down with the way you're gazing into his eyes, your fingers pressed against his arm, the subtle scoot closer you just made with your chair.

Miguel releases a shaky breath, oh, he's paying attention alright. Damn it all if he doesn't take the leap right now. He decides to ask one more time to be sure, slowing down so he gets it right this time.

"Will....you stay longer, with me?" his voice is low, almost a whisper even though it's only the two of you in his dark library, but it's dripping with seduction. A low rumble from the rain clouds interrupts the pause between his question and your answer.

"Yeah..." you say softly back with double affirmation, a sneaky smile forming on your lips. He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, a woozy feeling in his stomach for what's about to happen in the next few minutes.

He excuses himself and goes back to his desk, typing on his computer, the excitement of having you alone making him just type nonsense for the first few moments, wheeling away some carts to the back and stowing a stray book back where it belongs.

It's now 11 pm. Closing time. Miguel turns off all the lights except for his small desk lamp. The clouds are still rolling and rumbling outside with the wind whistling against the windows. Raindrops are still decorating the street. It's a beautifully dark, sensual scene just for the two of you.

He laces his fingers in between yours and leads you to a dark space in between two large bookshelves. His hand is clammy, and he's a little embarrassed about it on the inside but you squeeze it reassuringly. There was literally nothing he could do at this point to make your crush on him go away. The shelves tower over both of you, even Miguel, who's 6 foot 9.

He leans a hand against the shelf just above and to the right of your head. He accidentally pins a piece of your hair under his hand, making you wince a tiny bit.

"Augh.."

Miguel's eyes dart in alarm to search for what he did that caused you pain and he realizes your hair is trapped under his hand. He pulls it away, shaking his hand and flicking his fingers in an effort to free any of your strands from it. "Goddamit...."

He rolls his head backwards in exasperation at his epic failure of having zero game tonight. You hold onto the flaps of his flannel, making him look at you. "Hey, hey come on...it's okay...."

He finally looks down at you and his lips fall open at your beauty, his heart rate speeding up much more quickly now, and he brings a shaky hand to your face. In his mind, he can't help but realize he's being a huge hypocrite, committing the same sins as his horny patrons of getting busy in the library. But seriously though, at least he had the decency to make sure it was after closing when he was off the clock.

You feel your knees go weak as he brings his other hand to your face, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. He wets his lips and he leans in pressing his tongue gently in the space he opened in your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You oblige immediately, diving forward into his soft lips, goosebumps appearing on your arms.

Oh fuck....this kiss felt good. He forgot how nice it felt to share intimacy with someone, those feelings that laid dormant for so long rising and nearly bubbling past the surface. It's all coming back to him as he just wills himself to get lost in the warmth of your mouth, the sheer layer of your Chapstick leaving a tasty feeling on his tongue.

You considered yourself decently experienced, but the way his lips move on their own show you he's a force to be reckoned with and you'd be more than happy to sit back and let him handle things...this handsome, geeky, sweet librarian...

The noises you two make as you desperately kiss each other are little shuffles as you bump into the shelf behind you, with an occasional "oh fuck...," from Miguel. Hearing how turned on he's getting causes you to let your first moan escape your lips.

Once he hears it, he needs more. His hands make their way to your ass and hoist you up onto an empty bookshelf ladder and he sets you down on one of the rungs. You grab his shirt in your fists, not tearing your lips away from his.

"Do you care about these?" Miguel says softly, out of breath, his mind running a million miles a minute before his actions can catch up to him, gently pinching the thin material of your tights between his thumb and pointer finger as his palms grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. You shake your head no, wanting to fuck already.

Then, his hand is in your crotch, ripping a whole right in the middle, tearing away at the fabric concealing your ripe pussy away from him as though it's the cover of a brand new novel. His cold pointer finger hooks behind your panties and pulls it to the side. You gasp loudly as you feel his finger and the cold air hit your soaked heat.

He chuckles, his breaths still coming out in rapid, succession, the baritone hum of his voice only adding to the wetness between your legs.

"Sorry, my hands are cold..." Then you can't believe what's happening when he drops to his knees, spreading you open like a book. His elbows pin your knees against the sides of the ladder, the wood pressing painfully into your kneecaps, but the sensation he gives you next makes you forget about the whole thing.

His tongue glosses over your wet pussy like a finger stroking the edge of a page. His nose tickles the tiny hairs sprouting from it as he takes a deep breath in, the smell of you going straight to his cock. He teases the lips of your pussy for a moment, an agonizing back and forth along the slit...

....back....and..... forth

"God....you're so wet..."

Back.....

"Miguel..." you whimper..

and forth...

"Fuck...." your fingers shake as you ball them into a fist...

before his tongue dips into your wet hole. Your back arches on instinct, making your body lurch forward, accidentally pushing his tongue further into you which he welcomes eagerly by gripping low on your ass to hold you in place.

You shudder and twitch violently, throwing your head back at the insanely divine attention he's injecting between your thighs. Miguel pauses for a moment, tenderly licking the inside of your thigh before sealing it with a kiss as his eyes flicker up to you.

"You okay?...." he whispers.

You release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, a slightly empty feeling as the mind numbing pleasure was abruptly switched off.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm okay."

Miguel reassumes his position, tongue fucking you. The soft pad of his tongue fondling the plush walls inside you. He lets out a low groan and he feels you turn to putty in his grasp, his head gently bobbing as his tongue completes lap after lap eating you, enjoying you, savoring you....every drop from that pretty pussy soon seeping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Your moans grow louder than they ever have, plucking him from his pussy-drunk state. He stands up in a panic and rips off his flannel, bunching it up as his eyes do a quick scan to make sure you're both still all alone.

"Shhhh.....baby, we need to be quiet.....bite this for me."

His angelic face comes up to look at you, his forehead pressing tenderly against yours and your eyes go half lidded at the sight of your arousal glistening down his chin, shiny on his thick neck from the thin flickers of moonlight that have managed to leak through the darkened windows of the library.

You do as you're told, biting his flannel and he stuffed it hastily in your mouth, making a makeshift gag as your eyes water. His elbows assume their position pinning your thighs back and he's back between them again.

You understand why he made you a gag as he goes directly for your clit this time. You yelp, your sound muffled by the fabric. Your nails dig into his shoulders, two perfect handles while you ride his face. The material of his shirt is thin and you feel every muscle ripple under your palms as he moves to keep fucking you with his mouth.

Your clit throbs to near overstimulation but Miguel doesn't relent. He swirls his tongue with low sighs of appreciation, unable to tear himself away from the wet heaven in front of his face.

His saliva and your slick mix together until it's all the same. The love you're dripping onto him and the love he's licking into you becoming a lewd stream of passion. He groans into your pussy as his bulging cock begs to relieve itself of all the cum built up with tormenting ache.

He decides he wants to watch you cum. He gets up, replacing his tongue with his thumb and his first two fingers, pumping into you with a circular rhythm and easing your clit at a torturous pace.

"On me, baby...." he whispers.

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you look at him, a little unsure of what he said. "Mmmm?...." You ask with a high pitched sigh.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me..." he repeats, his own eyes going half-lidded from the lure of your mouth hanging open. "Fuck...."

He abandons his plan momentarily as he rips his flannel from your mouth to kiss you again. You invade his mouth with your tongue and he mumbles your name again in response. You start to taste yourself and then whimper when you realize the pleasure is beginning to become too much.

"Miguel," you pant. "Baby, it's so much...." your breaths begin to hyperventilate.

Miguel gives a low sigh when you say his name, his cock straining once more when he realized he drew you to say it. He tilts his head at you, his jaw open and curls into a smile when he sees how crazy he's driving you.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna watch you while you do..."

You try to look at a spot on the ceiling but Miguel interrupts your concentration when he moves his head to keep himself in your vision. The spiciness of this sexy encounter banishing all fears he had before. No, he won't let you look at anything else when you cum.

He gives a loud grunt and clasps a hand over your mouth, fingers turning white, muffling your cry of sweet release as you squirt all over his flannel, your passion causing a few books to collapse from the shelf.

You shake and start to shiver all over as the sweat you produced during all the action starts to cool. Your hands are tingly and numb. Miguel gives a soft chuckle and presses a soft kiss into your temple with his wet lips and another one on your mouth before he returns his tongue to your thighs, collecting any remaining arousal left behind.

You rest your head back on the ladder rung behind your head, reeling in your come down. He smiles and plants a kiss into your thigh before bidding it farewell, then comes up and hugs you, nestling you in his tantalizing embrace, as he rests his cheek in your hair.

"Thank you..." you murmur, only barely sobering up from your high, his musk and cologne delivering you to a whole new state of intoxication.

He smiles down at you in response and holds your face in both hands, running his thumbs along your cheeks.

"See me tomorrow?"

You practically melt at those big brown eyes of his, glasses still slightly askew and the neck of his wrinkled shirt dampened with his sweat, silently hoping you will.

You beam up at him and nod enthusiastically and he chuckles and plants a line of kisses on your neck as you giggle underneath him. After a few soft hugs and another round of delicate kisses, he walks you to the door. Making you promise you'll call him as soon as you get home as a reluctant compromise at his uneasiness of you walking alone in the dark.

He watches you walk away into the night and doesn't stop until he sees you safely board the bus. He turns around and goes back inside the library, shutting off his desk light with a small click.

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jokeringcutio · 6 months

Note

I see you have Crimson Peak listed for fics 👀

Picture this: Sir Thomas Sharpe doesn't have a sister and was never abused, therefore never got into the black widower routine. He's just a struggling inventor in London to wrangle investors for his machine because he's the last of his crumbling family line.

Reader is an heiress who rarely gets out because she's anxious and prone to panic attacks. Quite a sweet and pretty girl, but her parents are ashamed of her and hide her away.

Anyway there's a Halloween masquerade being held in town and both reader and Thomas attend (whether they sneak in or not is up to you) and they meet. They both feel more at home with each other than anyone else in the city, and start seeing each other secretly and fall in love.

Up to you if he asks permission to marry her or they elope and the parents pay to cover it up, but they get married and use her money to fund his inventions and fix up crimson peak. And have kid(s) to continue the family line.

A happy romantic story for two sweet and ignored people 🥰 (smut scene if you wanna, but it should be romantic)

-🐀

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader – Halloween (Sweet AU) Fandom: Crimson Peak Pairing: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Reader Rating: Teen Summary: AU in which Sir Thomas Sharpe never had his sister corrupt him and meets Reader at a Halloween masquerade.

Warnings: None Really. Romance. Talk about marriage and kids. Drama. Tiny bit of Angst? Sorry it was written in a rush. Possible Cameo for Albert Shaw.

Charity

In the comfort of your tower chamber, you stood, gazing out of the circle-top window at the people who passed in the streets below. You didn’t feel the need to be among them, content to be up here by yourself in a room full of comfort and little knick-knacks. You had your peace and quiet and you were content with it.

The wealth you had been born in, and the hefty salary that your parents paid you each month, was enough to ensure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger for the entirety of your life. Rich, others would call you. But if they could see your bedroom they might doubt that you were.

You didn’t feel the need for all the lavishness that money could grant you. You hardly spent a dime other than the usual necessities. Material possessions had little interest for you. Instead, you found solace in spending your money on charity, giving away some of your income to charities on a steady base.

It was almost fitting, then, that your heart would be captured by a man who was once a charity case himself.

You met him during one of the few occasions where you were allowed to venture out of your tower where your parents usually kept you locked away… like a secret. They were ashamed because you were still a spinster in your twenties. And you could not blame them. People looked at you oddly and whispered behind your back in the streets. And so you didn’t want to go out and be among them any longer, hiding yourself much to your parents’ relief.

But there were such occasions where you would go out. Usually small balls or events with family and close friends. Sometimes, to bigger events where you knew that people would not be able to recognize you.

You feared their reactions if they saw you, feared what they would say or do.

The yearly Halloween Masquerade was an event you dreaded. The stuffy ballroom, the leering gazes, the suffocating press of bodies all around - it threatened to bring forth the panic attacks that plagued your life. Yet tonight, as you stood at the edge of the dance floor, your eyes took in the beautiful sight of the latest fashion dresses and suits. Beautiful women and men danced together, their masks hiding their faces, yet they grew intimate in their dance. You wondered how it felt, had done so for a while, but at the same time weren’t keen to experience it yourself.

You tried to hide away, to not be noticed, despite the dress you wore; the silken emerald fabric hugged your curves and cascaded down to the floor, shimmering with each movement. The intricate golden mask on your face only partially concealed your identity, but it was enough to give you a fleeting sense of anonymity. People still stopped to ask you for a dance. Men still stopped.

You disliked their leering gazes, the way their eyes seemed to undress you from behind the masks. And so you tried your best to avoid dancing with them. Their intentions were clear, and you were not interested in any of them. Your heart raced, anxiety clawing its way up your throat. If only this evening could come to an end.

And then, a familiar face appeared among the crowd. Your savior. Giselle, one of the few friends you had, came rushing towards you in a gown matching your own. Her wide smile a beacon of relief.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked, her eyes twinkling behind her mask. Finally, you were rescued.

Gratitude surged through you, and a genuine smile bloomed on your face. "I'd love to."

As you danced with Giselle, the familiar pressure in your chest began to dissipate. Her laughter, light and carefree, seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to your heart. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation of being alive. And you laughed; a pure, wholehearted smile.

Your joy was noted.

As you and Giselle danced, you felt the burning gaze of someone on your form. You carefully started to glance around.

“What are you doing?” Giselle asked, having noticed how your eyes traced the room.

“Someone’s watching me,” you mumbled, just loud enough for your voice to be carried over the tones of the music.

Giselle chuckled as she spun you around gracefully. “Of course, people are watching us,” she said, a sneer appeared on her face. “The Duke of Sparington has been trying to get my attention all evening. I’m so glad to get away. The guy’s in his forties and already has two kids and a tummy like a barrel. If I were to marry him he’d kill me in his sleep just by rolling over and ending on top of me.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh again, even though Giselle seemed to be grimacing at your reaction. It was obvious that she was repulsed by the man who had decided to chase her.

“Tell me, for the love of God,” you started, “That your parents won’t allow the match.”

But Giselle sighed deeply. “They’re much like yours,” she muttered, squeezing your hand a little too tightly as you continued the dance. “Eager to have me wed, even though they said to have given up on me already.”

Your eyes turned wide. “Well, you must convince them to hand you to another. If not younger, then at least thinner so you won’t be suffocated during your night’s rest.”

Giselle grinned at this, appreciating the joke. But you knew her situation was slightly different than yours. Albeit having been born in money pretty much like you had, Giselle’s dowry wasn’t nearly as large as yours. And her parents could not hide her away like yours had with you. The day for her to marry seemed to be closing in with each passing year.

You dreaded the thought.

If only we could marry for love, you thought solemnly. You held Giselle’s hand in your own as you spun around the room. And as the music swelled, your eyes drifted across the ballroom, settling on a figure who stood in stark contrast to the colorful array of masks and costumes. He was tall, slender yet muscular, clad in black as though he were an ethereal shadow amidst the sea of gaiety. His piercing blue eyes seemed to draw you in, ensnaring you with their intensity.

You couldn't look away. It was as if an invisible thread connected you both, pulling tighter with each passing second. Desire coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you locked in this magnetic dance of longing.

This was the man who had been watching you. This was the gaze you had felt all along.

"Your turn," Giselle whispered, releasing your hand. It was then that the dark stranger approached, his movements fluid and graceful as he closed the distance between you.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was soft, yet carried an undertone of command.

"Of course," you breathed, entranced by the mysterious man before you. As he took your hand, electricity sparked between you, igniting a fire deep within your soul.

"Thomas Sharpe," he introduced himself as the two of you began to sway to the music. His low voice sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony as if you'd danced together countless times before. He was good, you noticed. Kept his rhythm well and moved fluently, despite his tall height and rather stiff appearance. This mysterious man took you by surprise completely.

You whispered your name and gazed up at the masked stranger. His blue eyes seemed warm as they lay upon you, peering through the holes of the black and blue mask. The silver lines only emphasized the blue of his eyes, making him seem more like a spirit than a man. Could he be real?

“I haven’t seen you here before,” you murmured, weakly, as you tried to focus on the steps you took with your feet. Focusing was hard, because Thomas’s scent and warmth distracted you, and brought your mind to places your mother would describe as the gutter.

How did this man manage to bring about such wicked thoughts, you wondered? Especially now that you could not even see his full face?

“Ah, yes. That is because I am not from around here,” Thomas replied, and that would explain it all. During your years living here, you’d become familiar with most faces of the high society. And many of them you wished you’d never seen. “I’m only visiting shortly in an attempt to raise sponsors willing to support my cause.”

“And what cause is that?” you asked, eyes meeting his as the two of you swayed gently from side to side.

Something in Thomas’s eyes lit up, like the subject you allowed him to talk about brought him real joy. Joy, and something else. Hope, you wondered?

"I'm working on a machine to mine red clay from the earth surrounding my family's estate," Thomas explained, his eyes burning with passion. "I believe it has the potential to bring great wealth, but I'm in desperate need of funding."

Red bells went off inside your mind. Another gold digger, you thought. You’d seen them before, met them before, although they never had such a great impact as Thomas had.

"Red clay?" You frowned, intrigued by the man and his ambitions. Was he not just another suitor seeking your fortune, but someone fueled by dreams and desires much like your own?

"Indeed, it's a valuable resource with numerous applications," he continued, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "But my family's fortune has dwindled, and our estate is crumbling,” here he paused, giving you time to think. “I'm determined to restore it to its former glory."

"Tell me more," you urged, your heart pounding as power and desire mingled within you. He was a man of ambition, and you felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As the music played on and the dance floor spun around you, Thomas spoke of his dreams, his lips brushing against your ear with each whispered word. The world outside ceased to exist - it was just you and Thomas, bound together by shared passions and undeniable attraction.

"Thomas," you breathed, feeling as if you were on the brink of something dangerous, yet incredibly thrilling. Your fingers intertwined, creating a bond that seemed unbreakable.

"Time seems to stand still with you," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

And in that moment, you knew that your life would never be the same.

Perhaps the decision you took was rash. But you had thought about it, had done so for years before this moment had come. You had refused every man who had come to your door simply because you hadn’t felt that spark. You even had started to think you were incapable of feeling such feelings at all. But then Thomas came onto the scene, and he rose feelings inside of you that you had never felt before.

Love. Lust.

Both feelings combined made you feel powerful and strong. If you could feel this for a man, then surely, you would have to chase the chance to be with him. If he wouldn’t want to have you, then so be it, but you at least had to try. You had always been honest about your feelings and had always listened to your heart when you made decisions.

Your heart raced as you pulled Thomas closer, your fingers entwined like tendrils of ivy. The music swelled around you, a wild torrent that threatened to drown out everything else.

"Thomas," you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. "I... I like you."

The words hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that could shatter at any moment. He looked both elated and afraid, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable. What an odd reaction, you thought, alarmed by the fear you saw in his eyes. Did he not want you? You knew it was only one meeting that you had, a few dances that you shared, but there was that spark. That moment when the two of you had gazed into each other’s eyes and had forgotten the world.

Surely, that must have meant something to him, right?

"Truly?" His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. But then his grip on you faltered and you whimpered sadly when his arms fell away. A rejection, you thought upset.

"Sweet girl of mine,” Thomas whispered, the affection making you flinch because it felt so right – but you feared that in a moment he would be gone.

“I can’t give you what you need,” Thomas continued, voice laced with pain. As if admitting this hurt him more than you could possibly imagine. His hand reached for yours again, gently holding it.

“I haven't much to offer. My family's fortune is nearly gone, our estate in ruins...You’d be cold and far away from your family, living with a man who is hardly more than a bagger, trying to scrape back his family’s fortune and bringing back some lost glory to the Sharpe’s name."

"None of that matters to me," you assured him, feeling a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. It was as if you were free-falling, the ground rushing towards you at breakneck speed. “I would like to explore the possibilities of there being an us. Of you being with me.”

But before he could respond, the music screeched to a halt, leaving you breathless and off-balance. Thomas' grip on your hand loosened, and he looked away, his eyes flicking towards the shadows that lingered at the edge of the ballroom.

"Please excuse me," he muttered, slipping away from you like water through your fingers. You watched him go, feeling bereft and adrift in the suddenly too-large room.

"Who was that?" Giselle asked, appearing at your side with a concerned frown. "You look... shaken."

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured, still searching for him among the swirling throng of dancers. "He just... left."

"Perhaps it's for the best," she suggested, her gaze following yours. "Forget about him, darling. Dance the night away with me instead."

The next day, you found yourself holed up in your tower chamber, the memory of your dance with Thomas haunting your every waking moment. You had inquired after him, researched him, desperate for any scrap of information that might help you understand the man who had so thoroughly captivated you. Luckily, your parents and their servants could provide you with all the information you might need.

"Sir Thomas Sharpe," you whispered to yourself, tracing the letters on the page with your fingertips. "Baronet and engineer."

You learned that his family line was dwindling. He was the last alive, with no heir to carry on the name. His house, once grand and imposing, now lay in ruins - a testament to the passage of time and the ravages of decay. But despite it all, Thomas still dreamed of resurrecting his family's fortune with his ambitious red clay mining project.

And you thought he might be onto something.

With renewed vigor, you set about drawing up plans for his machine, inspired by the conversation you'd shared while dancing. The hours slipped away as you sketched and calculated, determined to lend your own talents to his cause.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you spread the blueprints across the table, studying them with a critical eye. This was something real, something tangible that could bring you closer to the man who had stolen your heart in one dizzying waltz.

"Thomas Sharpe," you murmured again, feeling the name curl around your tongue like a secret. "I'll find you... I promise."

A new day dawned, and you found yourself summoned to the drawing room. The request, although not unusual, surprised you, because your mother demanded you’d be presentable. Fear gripped your heart at that because it could only mean one thing.

A suitor.

And how you dreaded to come face to face with a man whose visage or demeanor repulsed you. Especially now that your mind was set on only one man in the entire universe.

The door creaked open to reveal Thomas standing there in front of your parents, hat in hand, his black coat clinging to his slender frame. His gaze met yours, a piercing blue that sent a shiver down your spine and weakened your knees. This was the first time you properly saw his face and oh-my! He was handsome. More so than you had envisaged him to be in your dreams. It felt as if your heart stopped beating entirely and as if the world froze in a blizzard of roses and butterflies. This man.

But wait, had he come looking for you?

"Miss," he began, his voice soft as silk, "I must confess that ever since our encounter at the masquerade, I have been unable to forget you." There was something gritty about his voice that betrayed the truth of his words. As if he had tried his best to put you out of his mind and had failed.

You liked that, though. You liked the thought of him being unable to forget you. It meant he was as much on your mind as you were on his. Your heart raced at his admission, but you fought to maintain your composure.

Your parents, who had been watching the exchange with keen interest, seemed to light up at the whole display. Your father spoke with enthusiasm, "Sir Thomas Sharpe here asked for your hand in marriage,” he said to you. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your mother turned to Thomas with a smile. “Sir Thomas, we would be honored to welcome you into our family."

Thomas stood rigidly, and you could have missed the relief that flooded his eyes entirely had you not been looking at them. There was a sudden warmth to his gaze that told you that this was what he had come for.

But at the same time, you felt doubt cling to your heart. You wanted him, but… he stood so rigid, so unmoving. Like a true gentleman, you thought. But were your parents aware of his misfortune, you wondered? Or had he tricked them into making a match? The rich spinster whose parents feel embarrassed, eager to marry her off to a man with a pretty title who seems to have captured their daughter’s heart. The first to have achieved this.

"Mother," you whispered, pulling her aside, and out of the drawing room where you would have a bit of privacy and the men couldn’t hear. "I don't understand. He is poor, why are you encouraging this?"

"Darling," she replied in a hushed tone, her breath warm against your ear, "you have the funds, he has the need. It's your duty to marry and secure our family's future.”

“His house is in shambles, you told me yourself,” you whispered. “Aren’t you afraid he will usurp all of my resources? Have you considered he might only want to marry me because of my wealth?”

But your mother shook her head and smiled. “Listen, dear, Thomas seems to behave like a true gentleman. You could do worse. Besides,” here she paused and you waited full of anticipation to hear what argument she was going to use next, “even if he is poor, he needs an heir. And it is your duty as a woman to continue the line of our family. And quite frankly, I haven’t seen you as interested in a man in all of my life. Just take this opportunity and don’t ruin it. You’re going to be a good mom, give birth to a son to ensure a safe future for yourself and our family, and I will finally have the grandchildren I so desire."

Anger bubbled within you, hot and fierce. You wanted to marry for love, not obligation. And you decided to tell your mother as much.

“I won’t marry just to be a breeding mare,” you hissed. “If I marry it’ll be out of love. Not out of obligation.”

The creaking of the floorboards made you look up in shock to meet deep blue eyes of Thomas as he rounded the corner. How much had he heard? There was a sadness in his eyes that quickly melted into a fierce determination. Oh no, your heart raced as your mind clouded with disastrous scenarios. His face was pale - paler than before - and his eyes widened in shock.

"Thomas," you tried to reach out to him, but he stepped back, the hurt in his eyes unmistakable.

"Forgive me, Miss. Coming here was a mistake. I must take my leave," he said, his voice barely a whisper. And without another word, he left the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind racing.

“Sir Thomas!” Your mother called out, running after him as fast as her skirts would allow. You knew you’d be in trouble now.

Don’t ruin it, your mother had said, only milliseconds before you’d done just that.

You watched Thomas go, a flurry of black coat and wounded pride. The memory of his touch, his scent, and his voice haunted you, taunting you with the promise of what could have been. But as the door closed behind him, a cold, hard truth settled in your bones. You had lost him, and it was unlikely you would ever find him again.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Thomas, and the ache in your chest grew stronger. The walls of your chamber felt suffocating, so you defied your parents' wishes and ventured outside into the bustling streets. Your reappearance caused whispers to spread like wildfire; some marveled at your beauty and kindness despite your reclusive nature, while others gossiped about your unmarried status.

Returning home, cheeks flushed from the cool air, your heart sank as you found a man you had known all of your life as Uncle Al - one of your neighbors – speaking to your father in hushed tones. It was apparent he was asking for your hand in marriage.

"Please, sir," the man said, desperation lacing his voice, "I can provide for her."

"Give me away?" You scoffed, anger boiling inside you. "To him?"

The man had known you from when you were a little child and was older than you by far. You had been shocked by the amount of men at your parents’ door recently, but to see him. The neighbor who had always been so kind to you… It was unsettling.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, uncaring if it hurt the man’s feelings. “He’s nearly as old as you!”

Your father's eyes narrowed, clearly displeased by your outburst. “Nearly as old, perhaps,” he said, voice low like a warning. “But he is a good friend of our family and he deserves a bit of happiness.”

Your neighbor stood up a little straighter, a lustful gleam in his eye as his gaze fell upon you. You felt a shiver run down your spine. No, you thought. No way you’d give him the heirs your mother so wanted. Your heart already belonged to another and you had made up your mind a little while ago.

“And a bit more respect as well, don’t you agree?” The hiss made it clear that your father was not to be argued with, and so you directed your gaze down at the ground and muttered a brief apology.

Al seemed to accept it, for a smile took possession of his lips and he turned back to your father again. “Such an endearing creature,” you heard him say, voice like silk. “Whyever have you kept her away from us for so long?”

Because of this, you thought, sadly. Your parents might have feared this. And with a start, you realized how you had set your own demise into motion. That they hadn’t as much locked you away out of shame as well as to protect you from all the unwanted gazes and proposals of men twice your age or more. They knew you hadn’t wanted to marry and had given you the space. But now, society demands them to hand you over to someone. And who better than a family friend they had known all of their lives?

“It is settled then,” you heard Al say and lifted your gaze to see him shake your father’s hand. Your father forced a smile, though you recognized by now that it did not reach his eyes.

A measurement out of necessity. A must. You thought with a shock. Unable to look at the two men any longer, you turned on your heels and ran away. Your bedroom felt safe, for now, high up in your tower, as you threw yourself upon the bed and clutched your pillows tight.

“Not him,” you breathed through tears. “Not Al.” No matter how kind your neighbor had been when you were smaller, he was old and started to grey. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Thomas and didn’t have the same voice or scent.

And there he was again. Thomas never seemed to leave your mind.

After you calmed down enough, you pushed yourself off the bed. Your chest heaved with fury as you went to stare out the window, your breath fogging the cold glass.

You weren’t looking at anything in particular when your gaze fell upon the familiar figure of Thomas across the street. You’d been occupied with your own thoughts, and it took you a few seconds before you realized that your gazes had crossed. All this time you had been searching for him. You knew he was still in the area, knew he had made visits to unsuccessfully gain sponsors to fund his work. But you’d never been able to catch sight of him. And here he was, underneath your window, staring at you from across the street with silent admiration.

How long had he been there?

Your heart leaped. Not wasting another second, you rushed down the stairs and outside, the door slamming behind you.

"Thomas!" You called, seeing how he had turned and was walking away from you. Despite the street being busy this time of the day, you followed his tall shape, running past people and making your way zigzagging through the crowd. The top hat he wore indicated where he went. “Thomas, wait!”

But he kept walking. And just when you started to get out of breath, you saw him come to a standstill. Relieved, you caught your breath and ran towards him. It was as if he waited for you, standing tall and proud, his back still turned towards you. Then he slowly turned around to face you, a sad expression marred his features. His blue eyes were full of turmoil.

"Dear girl,” he murmured, his blue eyes shimmering with unspoken emotions. "I know you must think me a monster, standing underneath your window like I have…”

You shook your head fiercely. “No, not at all,” you breathed.

“I must confess, I have been watching you more frequently these days. I tried to forget, but… I felt drawn to your window more and more, just to catch a glimpse of you,” Thomas admitted, silently. He hung his head in shame. But his blue eyes were kept firmly upon you. “My heart still beats for you."

His admission sent shivers down your spine, your desire for him growing stronger like a moth drawn to a flame.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Surprise was visible on his face, but only for a moment. Then, he carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace.

“When I said I would not marry out of obligation, I also said I wanted to marry out of love,” you whispered, aware that Thomas could hear. “It is you I have always been waiting for. I want no other.”

Thomas pulled away from the embrace and looked deep into your eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He found none.

He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, his hands gently caressing your face. The kiss was soft and tender but quickly intensified. As you pulled away, the hunger in your eyes was evident. Without saying a word, you grabbed Thomas's hand, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you.

You led Thomas back to your home. “You must talk to my father again,” you said, still holding his hand in your own. You could feel his eyes upon you, burning with desire. “He just gave me away to another.”

“Another?” Thomas sounded as if he hardly could believe his ears, and you felt how his grip on your hand inadvertently intensified. Once he noticed his bodily reaction, he looked ashamed at your joined hands and relieved some of the pressure, holding your hand gently again.

“I said I wouldn’t, but,” you hesitated, chewing your lip pensively as the both of you stood in front of your parents’ home, glancing up at the tower that you slept in. “Since I have been going out, people have started to notice me.”

You turned to Thomas, eyes locking, and found a look of wonder in his. “A spinster,” you clarified, gently squeezing his hand. “Society has been building up pressure until my father had to relent. I need to be married for the honor of the family name.”

“Then lead me inside,” Thomas said, voice hoarse, almost as if there was a hidden second layer to his words. Inside, it purred inside your mind. Yes, that was where you wanted him. In you, around you, part of you. And so, you led him inside, determined to make your parents see reason. As you entered the parlor, their disapproving eyes bore into you.

"Father, Mother, look who I have brought home," you said, their heads turning to look at the two of you in wonder. There you stood, hand in hand with the man of your dreams. Thomas’s eyes were glinting, a tremble to his smile. Hope, that was the right word. He radiated hope.

"Thomas?" Your father sounded surprised. "The struggling inventor?"

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” Thomas said firmly, taking you and your parents by surprise. “I might lack the funds for the comfort your daughter deserves, but I have an abundance of love for her. I asked you before and I beg you to consider me again. Annul the agreement with the other suitor to her hand. Your daughter and I are in love. And I will pledge to keep her safe and care for your daughter and our children, if we are blessed to have any, until the end of my days.”

The speech was long, heart-warming, and rendered you speechless. As you watched Thomas he seemed to transform into something else, something ethereal. A glowing creature, full of power and passion. It only confirmed the choice you had made.

Your parents stood there, silently, But you could tell by their faces that they were deep in thought.

"His heart is true, and he loves me," you insisted, gripping Thomas's hand even tighter. "Do you not wish for my happiness?"

A tense silence filled the room until your mother finally spoke, her voice barely audible. "Very well, we shall accept his proposal."

Relief washed over Thomas's face, his eyes brimming with gratitude and love. The weight of your decision hung in the air, heavy but necessary. And that night you had your first meal together. The next morning was spent walking and chatting, getting to know each other a little better.

And as the days passed by, you had no regrets.

Months later, with your dowry spent on tools and materials, you watched as Thomas began to build his machines according to a combination of your designs and his own. His hands, once soft and delicate, grew calloused as he toiled away in his workshop. You watched from the shadows, pride swelling in your chest as his dreams slowly came to life.

Life in your new home wasn't easy; the roof leaked, the walls were damp, and the cold seeped through every crack. But together, you made it work. When you discovered you were pregnant, the hardships only intensified. You were sick quite often and with no servants to tend to your needs, you had to do everything around the house yourself. You fell ill during pregnancy, running a fever that made Thomas fear for both your life as well as that of your unborn child. But you survived and got better. And despite the challenges, love kept you warm. Your shared passion was like an inferno against the bitterness of the world.

By the time your child arrived, a fragile, wailing bundle, Thomas's business had begun to flourish. You supported him unwaveringly, standing by his side as he navigated the treacherous waters of entrepreneurship.

"Thank you, my love," he murmured one night as you lay entwined beneath threadbare blankets, your child nestled between you. "Without you, none of this would be possible."

"Thank you," you whispered back, tears glistening in the moonlight. "For giving me a life worth living."

Slowly but surely, Thomas's business continued to grow, allowing you to repair your home and provide for your growing family. Life was still tough, but it was a life filled with love, laughter, and the knowledge that you had chosen the right path.

And so, with your children surrounding you, you lived out your days as a happy family, bound together by the unyielding force of love, triumphing against all odds.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#sir thomas sharpe #Sir thomas sharpe x you #reader x thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x reader #crimson peak fanfiction #enjoy the romance #sweet fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader

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jomiddlemarch · 1 month

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for danger is in words

“My wife’s name is Mary,” he said, first in English, before he noticed and then again in the Portuguese she would understand. There was a something about her face that told him he perhaps hadn’t needed the translation. “Not so different—”

“You did not call me by her name,” Mariko said, a reassurance he should not have needed, but it had been a long time since he’d tumbled a woman and Mariko had touched him in ways he had not imagined, given him pleasure with hands he would have thought devilish clever except for the look in her dark eyes as she’d stroked him. Tenderness and wonder, as if he were precious, an unexpected marvel, not a scarred sea-pilot with manners too rough, too eager, for the subtle Japans.

“’Tisn’t proper to speak of her now, I warrant. After pillowing,” John said, using the term Mariko had. She was a widow, even if not as merry as widow as one would find in London or Amsterdam, so perhaps she had done nothing untoward by her rights, but it didn’t seem polite to hold a woman in his arms, her bare skin more delicate than her silk robe, the taste of her yet in his mouth, and talk of another.

“Men’s tongues wag after congress,” she said. “Unless they sleep.”

“You gave me great joy,” he said. It sounded awkward, formal, but his Portuguese did not run to either poetry or the sweet-talk lovers used, endearments and admissions. Praise was used quite differently here and he didn’t want to risk offending her.

“I thought I must,” she said. “You were very loud.”

He laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that startled her, a sudden tenseness in her shoulders. He would not have been able to tell if she were wearing her usual robes, standing across from him, but naked, pressed against him, it was undeniable.

“I suppose I was. I offer my most sincere apology if you’d have it,” he said.

“You did nothing wrong. Many cry out at the peak,” she said.

“You did not,” he replied. She had made a very soft sound and he’d felt her body surge around his, her hands tightening on his back, her neck arched. The moonlight through the paper screens had not enough power to give him any color, but he’d felt her flush even if he could not see the roses in her cheeks, the hue of a Tudor blossom down her throat and across her full breasts.

“Did your Mary?” she replied. For once, perhaps, it was not a challenge nor a game whose rules he was meant to discover mid-play. She was curious, about Mary and about English women, about the world he’d left behind. What he’d told her about the Thames had not slaked her thirst but whetted it, but she wanted more than details of a silver river in a filthy city, a jeweled Virgin Queen on her throne. She wanted to know about the bed he’d lain in, conceiving his children, the bedclothes rumpled, the rushes on the floor with their wilting herbs. Mary with her bright chestnut hair unbound, a spatter of freckles across her cheeks, her eyes light. He couldn’t recall their blue anymore.

“Not at first. She was shy, ‘til she learned to like it,” he said.

“To like pillowing?”

“To like make noise. To letting me know I’d pleased her. Or that she wanted more,” he said. Mariko shifted and sated as he was, she stirred him. It would not do to think whether each gesture was studied, a courtier’s or a courtesan’s. He would not know unless she told him and she would not tell him if he asked direct. That at least, he’d learned, how little appreciated was the confrontation, even if his only goal was the discovery of her appetite, her delight.

“Without you, she is quiet,” Mariko said.

“She is virtuous, a respected matron. Her bed is empty but she is quiet only in that regard. She’s known for her wit, her temper,” he said. Mary would like to be rendered so, even if she sulked to learn he’d shared his bed with another.

“You miss her,” Mariko said. At least, he heard it thus. The word she chose was one she paused before uttering and he wondered how deficient she found Portuguese to her purpose.

“Less than I ought,” he admitted. “All is dross that is not Helena,” he added wryly, mocking his own inconstancy, ruing the comparison that Mariko posed, in every way lovely and quick, fair and bright and with untold depths he would never plumb.

“I do not understand, Anjin,” she said.

“A line from a play, from home,” he said. “I mean to say, I do my wife a disservice, but one I cannot regret.”

“Because you pillowed with me?”

“’Twas not only such for me,” he said. If he were fluent in her language, still he would struggle to explain to her what he had felt during their coupling, all words platitudes in their attempt to contain the ineffable. He would have felt embarrassed to describe it so except that he felt most himself surrounded by the sea and the horizon, by those things elemental—water and salt, air and star. Something in her answered him, even if it was an aspect she had withdrawn behind her bloody fence, and that was more powerful than any ecstasy.

“To a starving man, a crumb is a banquet,” she said.

“And now I know you have never had a hungry winter,” he replied. He’d had his fair share as a child. He didn’t mention the desperate straits they’d come to before being taken in by the Japans, the men turning in their hammock as if winding their own shrouds about their bony carcasses. “A crumb to a starving man is not a banquet but torture and lying with you was neither feast nor agony.” He leaned in and grazed her temple with his lips, traced the curve of her cheek with his forefinger.

“Sweet,” he murmured.

“You are gentle, Anjin. More gentle than I expected,” she said. He thought of how she’d become very still when he’d brought her palm to his lips and when he’d drawn her close to nestle against him as they rocked together on the cusp of abandonment. He thought of how she’d touched the scars on his back and arm, the ones on his ribs, his belly, the question in her eyes unasked, unconcealed.

“I would have you call me John,” he said.

“I am not your consort,” Mariko said.

“That is why I ask. It is not a demand,” he said.

“Only now,” she said. She looked at him and took a breath. Her lips parted, as if invitation. “John.”

“We agreed now is the only time there is,” he replied and pulled her to him, tasting his name on her tongue, sighing the pleasure of it into her mouth and stroking it down her back.

The cry she gave when he brought her to the crest was sharp, like a wheeling gull’s, and so shocking that he spent in the next instant, his groan swallowed into silence. He lay panting, his cock still hard within her, his hand at her waist when she moved to whisper in his ear.

“John. Only now.”

Shout-out to @aquitainequeen for her post on early 17th century theater and what John could have seen/quoted. I went full-throttle Dr. Faustus, as she suggested he'd had loved that!

#shogun 2024 #john blackthorne #mariko x blackthorne #lady mariko #toda mariko #romance #canon au #pillow-talk #mrs. john blackthorne #lost in translation #the importance of names #married people talking about their marriages #intimacy

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snackugaki · 1 year

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idk man, softshells are vicious

*continues screaming below the cut*

ololololollollolooll— the peepaw multiverse tried to infect me with a sad, embattled f!Leo but my body ended up forcing it to mutate because while I love a good soul-crushing angst premise, I’m a comedy and rule of cool girl at heart. and like... war feels like constant sorrow, grief, unending violence and fighting but... it isn’t, there’s lulls and quiet moments and your siblings don’t stop being siblings even then, especially then

and to clarify, all that weird shit the kids might have heard about Next Mutation, love triangles, Donnie and Venus fighting etc. take it from me, someone who was the target tv demographic when it was first airing, it wasn’t that bad. it was bad because it was just really bad children’s television during 90s Turtlemania. Just real corny shit (affectionate). Fighting dragons with a widow’s peak to rival Vegeta’s, vampires who look like if Betty Page and Prince Adam made a baby in the lycra section of Hustler Hollywood, just terrible fun with 90s children’s tv production values.

however when I rewatched the show as an adult (after finding my soul when it cringed out of my body and across 293740293751 dimensions), one of my takeaways was Donnie and Vee absolutely were BFFs, it’s fun it’s silly and goddamnit I am a little tired of tech vs magic, why not tech and magic? a bitch loves a good team up with unlikely partners is what I’m saying. IDW Donnie and Venus shaping up to look like best buddies too, maybe, hopefully, wishing. but if any iteration was gonna have the besties/worsties dynamic, i’d feel like it’d be Rise.

...

i need you all to understand that Donnie is not running around naked in my future au, it’s just I started sketching before I realized I’d have to design a future!Donnie.

... i mean I was going to for the fun but I just really needed this out of my brain first. so like... pretend he’s wearing something cool pls, thnks.

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writingdisposal · 3 months

Text

Vying 2 (Alastor x Gn!Reader x Vox)

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cw: vulgar language, violence, cannibalism (nothing too extreme)

wc: 6,676

Part 1

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Comfortably snuggled in the sheets laid (Y/n) who slept so nicely until several knocks woke them up. "(Y/n)? Are you awake?" By the sound of it, it was Charlie calling. Groaning loudly (Y/n) made their presence known. "I'll take it you're awake! Please come down in a few minutes. We have a group exercise to do!" Charlie said cheerfully. "Okaaay," (Y/n) drawled out, rubbing their eyes. Charlie beamed, telling them 'See you soon!' before skipping down the hall. (Y/n) got up, though begrudgingly, and got dressed. Just as they were about to finish up, a light blue card on their nightstand peaked their interest.

Upon closer inspection, (Y/n) saw Vox's face plastered across it coupled with an adress, presumably of VoxTech's headquarters. "Did the dude go into my room again, while I slept?" (Y/n) thought, finding the answer on the back of the card. "Vox here (obviously) Forgot to give you my card. Contact me anytime and whenever you need something," it stated, followed by an obnoxiously large autograph. "Fucking Christ...," (Y/n) muttered, already regretting considering the guy's proposal. "(Y/n), my dear! Folks are waiting for us!" Alastor's voice calls out, followed by a couple knocks. "Coming!" They replied, shoving the card down their pocket. Quickly they opened the door, after throwing on a jacket, and walked down the hall with Alastor who seemed to be in a good mood.

"What's with the cheery attitude?" (Y/n) asked, placing their hands in the jacket's pockets. "Hm?" Alastor hummed, "Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just glad you're not as mad as last night." Chuckling (Y/n) reassured, "Heh, yeah. I'm not the kinda person anymore to hold a grudge forever." "You used to be?" Alastor asked, briefly glancing at (Y/n) who had a vacant look in their eyes, accompanied with a distant smile. "Yeah..., believe it or not, I used to be pretty uptight too," they sighed, stretching their arms before lazily putting them behind their neck, "Now I just wanna relax and see where life takes me." Humming Alastor joked they could share some more wisdom with such a poor sinner as himself.

That earned him a playful shove, followed by a quiet 'Oh you!'. He laughed softly, finding (Y/n)'s attitude refreshing. "They seem to enjoy my presence," Alastor thought, "That's good. Soon enough they will feel comfortable enough to enter a contract with me or follow my words..." (Y/n)'s smile pulled him out of his thoughts as he noticed the twinkle in their eyes shine brighter. "Hey guys!" They greeted, waving at everyone. Charlie returned the greeting with a suffocating hug, "Oh, I'm so happy you are following the rules! I'm sure, you'll be redeemed in no time!" "Su-Sure...," (Y/n) chocked out, "Charlie... Air..." "Oh right of course!" She immediately let go, allowing the sinner to take in a deep breath. (Y/n) couldn't help, but find the joyfulness Charlie displayed remind them of their little sister. They wonder if she is also stuck in hell, although (Y/n) greatly doubted it. Nevertheless the thought stays in the back of their mind.

Clasping her hands, Vaggie called out, "Alright! Now that everyone is here. Let's start with the group exercise!" The exercise goes as followed. A group plays out a little scenario where a moral decision needs to be made. The rest have to figure out what the correct answer is. Charlie will then reveal the correct answer and explain why it's correct. "Okay! Angeldust, Alastor and Sir Pentious, you guys go first," Charlie announced, retrieving their flashcards which has their roles and dialogue written on.

Angeldust is supposed to play the role of a widowed mother. Sir Pentious is his kid who is 12 years old and Alastor is a rich wealthy man. "Oh my dear child," Angeldust read in a monoton voice, "I don't think we have enough money for food." "Do not worry mother!" Sir Pentious declared full of vigor, "I found a lot of money!" "Knock, knock~!" Alastor sang. Angeldust looked at him before asking him, "Hello, how can I help?" "Well you see, your brat," Alastor glared at Sir Pentious who promptly hid behind Angel, "stole money from me. I've come to retrieve it. If you do not hand it over, I will alert the law enforcement immediately!" "Ok, now what would you do if you were in the mother's position?" Charlie asked excitedly.

Husk and (Y/n) exchanged a look. "Uuuh, I guess keep the money?" Husk answered before continuing, "Otherwise they will starve, won't they?" "Well...," Charlie looked a little stumped. "If you ask me, the rich guy is the bad guy here anyway. The loser sees a struggling family and still wants his money," (Y/n) chimed in, noticing Alastor frown at the mention of loser. "Sorry, Alastor," they added, making Alastor shake his head and wave them off. "Well, the correct thing would be to give the money back, but you two make very great arguments...," Charlie stated doubtfully before continuing hopefully, "Let's go to the next scenario and see how that goes!" Now it was Angeldust's, Sir Pentious' and Alastor's turn to be the audience.

Husk and (Y/n) are a couple who are arguing. "You drink so much," (Y/n) accused with a shaky voice, "Everytime you drink, you become so mean!" Husk looked like he wanted to be anywhere, but here. "I'm fine. You need to get over it," he stated, taking a swig out of an empty bottle, "the bottle is empty..." "Don't worry, go on!" Charlie quietly cheered. Husk briefly glanced at Charlie before looking back at (Y/n). "Can you really blame me for drinking?" Husk asked irritated, "I had a really really bad childhood." (Y/n) rolled their eyes, while Husk groaned. "If you can't satisfy me, I will just look for another guy!" They yelled before pretending to leave. "Good!" Husk yelled back, taking another swig of the empty bottle.

Clapping her hands vigorously, Charlie now looked at the audience. "So, how would you guys try to solve the argument without (Y/n) walking out?" She asked. "Husk would need to go to rehab before solving anything," Angeldust suggested, smiling at how Husk rolled his eyes. Charlie nodded happily, looking at the other two. "Well I believe (Y/n) needs to either break up with Husk," Alastor began, making Charlie grin from ear to ear, "or murder him, bury him in the dirt where he belongs and allow me to make him wish he would have had the heart to acknowledge (Y/n)'s concerns!" Charlie's grin fell. Husk grimaced at the suggestion, especially after Alastor shot him a glance. "Oh ho!" Alastor laughed, "I jest! I jest!" "Okay, that first bit was kinda okay," she affirmed, gazing at Sir Pentious, "do you have any ideas?" The sinner thought for a moment. "Oh! Oh! Maybe (Y/n) could have tried talking about the childhood with Husk and make him feel better," Sir Pentious answered, feeling mighty proud of his answer.

The Princess of Hell felt just as proud, exclaiming, "Yes! Yes! These all are great and valid ideas. The correct answer I had written down was that (Y/n) needs to be more empathetic and not immediately jump to a different person. Husk needs to be more honest about his feelings and take care of himself or allow to be taken care of." "Cool, can we fuck off now?" Angeldust who lazily laid across the couch chimed in. Before Charlie or Vaggie could say something, (Y/n) intervened, "That's rude, asshole." Angeldust merely scowled, not bothering to even glance at (Y/n). "It's fine, (Y/n)," Charlie reassured, "but yes, this will be it for today's exercise. I think we made some good progress!" Everyone either nodded or hummed, leaving to do their own thing.

Also (Y/n) was heading out. They figured they could do some more exploring and visit Vox, just to check out what he's got. Maybe he knows enough people to tell them if their sister in hell as well. Before they could leave the hotel, Alastor stopped them. "(Y/n)~," he sang, holding onto their shoulder, "You still owe me a rendezvous." Chuckling (Y/n) replied, "That hungry? I guess we can go now. I wouldn't mind a delicious meal." "Wonderful!" He squeezed their shoulders before offering his arm to interlink. "Ah, what the hell...," (Y/n) thought, accepting Alastor's offer. Both of them then headed out to the cannibal district, whilst Alastor filled the silence with stories of his first arrival in hell as well as how he met Rosie.

In the meantime Vox was fiddling with his mighty computer. He tried finding ways to maximise his view count on his shows, but alas it seemed he already optimised everything. Propping his arm on the table, he placed the weight of his head on his hand. He furrowed his brows before groaning in frustration. "There must be a way...," Vox muttered mindlessly. "To what? Find your little sinner?" "Fuck!" Vox yelled shocked, spinning around to see Velvet stand behind him, "You scared the shit out of me!" "That was my intention. Great that it worked out, right?" She smiled, continuing, "So you're still looking for the new-comer?" Vox sighed, "No, Velvet. I already found 'em, but we came to the agreement that I won't spy on them as long as they consider joining the Vees." Velvet looked at him confused. Vox raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?" She asked, sitting down on Vox's desk, "I thought your business talk would have been more effective." "Ugh, don't remind me...," Vox groaned, remembering how he allowed his emotions to take precedence and almost screwed up the whole project. Then to top it all off, he forgot to leave his business card and left it after they fell asleep. He really needs to reboot and maybe install some new updates to his system. "You might still wanna see what I found," Velvet said, showing him her phone. On the screen was sinistagram open with a particular post shown. It was a grainy picture, glitching significantly, however the figures were clearly recognizable. They were Alastor and (Y/n) who were holding onto one another smiling.

Voxs eye started turning red, radio waves very audible, making Velvet smirk. Slamming his fist down onto the desk, Vox cussed, "That old-timey freak! He should fucking know better and stay away from what's mine!" "You mean ours?" Velvet inquired. "Yeah yeah," Vox was quickly typing away on his computer, far too consumed by rage to acknowledge Velvet. She rolled her eyes, but got yet again confused when Vox got to a camera which showed Alastor and (Y/n). "Hold on there, darling. Don't you have a binding deal?" Velvet asked, observing the screen with curiosity. "We didn't make a deal, just came to an agreement," Vox corrected, bouncing his leg impatiently up and down. Now this has Velvet really stumped. How can the ever charismatic Vox fail to even make a deal? Something was clearly amiss. "So you could have been spying on them this whole time without them knowing and just... didn't?" She clarified.

Sighing Vox replied, "Yes, I could have, but after my blunder I don't wanna risk anything..." That made Velvet gasp, "Don't tell me you might be... developing morals! That's fucking disgusting!" She faked gagging noises, making Vox roll his eyes. "Velvet sweetheart," he gently started, "You should know me well enough to know, I'm just playing it safe. Nothing wrong with that." "Yeah, but this is unlike you to be acting this cautious, like how the fuck would they even find out you were spying on them?" She countered, crossing her arms. "Listen," he told her, "we don't even know how they were able to rake up so many souls in such a short time. Anything is possible."

Velvet gestured to the screen, "Then why spy on them now?" Vox laughed, "Pfft, what? No! This can hardly be called spying! I merely got concerned over the poor new-comer being near that freaky Radio Demon." Velvet just hummed, not impressed by Vox's clear denial that something was wrong with his system. "Whatever," she said, sitting up, "Check up your system 'cause there is something completely bugged. Whether you like it or not, you've never acted like this before." This gave Vox pause to think. Velvet wasn't wrong. He noticed it too, but still has to save face. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," he waved her off. Velvet huffed before ultimately leaving Vox alone. Focusing his gaze back onto the screen Vox just couldn't help, but feel envy consume his soul.

He tapped his fingers on the desk in an impatient manner. "Perhaps," he mused, "it's mere possessiveness... It has to be. If it's..." Shaking his head, he sighed. Is this maybe the true punishment for his sins? Still be second to that wretched Radio Demon and have a desired soul be the embodiment of that? No, no, Vox can't allow them to consume him. Fickle emotions shouldn't interfere with his goals. In fact, they can't. They simply can not.

Whilst Vox was experiencing a crisis, Alastor was feeling quite ecstatic. They finally arrived in the cannibal district and he could not wait any longer for some nice food. "How about we settle for the restaurant right around the corner?" Alastor suggested, "It has glowing reviews!" (Y/n) nodded, replying, "Take the lead." This made Alastor grin much more. "Starting to trust me, eh?" He remarked, noting (Y/n) roll their eyes. "I mean, do I have a choice? You know Hell much better obviously," they smiled, reassuringly tapping his arm. The gesture softened Alastor's expression. "That's correct, dear. You don't have a choice," he chuckled. Arriving at the restaurant, (Y/n) suggested sitting outside instead of inside. Alastor agreed, pulling back the chair for them before sitting down himself.

After scanning through the rather small menu, both ordered and patiently waited for their order. "So I've been thinking," (Y/n) began hesitantly, "Uh, you remember that TV guy?" "I certainly do. What about him?" Alastor asked, propping his arms on the table, so he can lay his head on his hands. "His name is Vox, right? What's his deal? Do you know him?" The Overlord laughed, "Oh, I do, but you need not bother with the picture box. He is nuisance at worst." "Hm, I just thought he might be able to help me-" Alastor cut them off, "I'm sorry, but with what exactly can that piece of useless metal help with?" "Find my little sister," (Y/n) answered, earning a confused look from Alastor, "I don't know if she went to heaven or not and I just wanna make sure, she is fine." "Oh dear," Alastor began, "That's understandable. If my mother taught me anything, it's to always help a lady in need." "So you're willing to help me search for my sister?" (Y/n) asked hopefully, making Alastor grin excessively.

"Of course, dear!" He affirmed, adding, "But I need to get something out of this." "What could I even offer to you that's worth?" (Y/n) countered. Before Alastor was able to respond, the server arrived with the food. Briefly thanking him he turned his attention back to (Y/n) who had that vacant look in their eyes again. This made Alastor pause for a moment. "So?" They asked again. Alastor cleared his throat, "Your time. It's quite valuable to me." (Y/n) only raised an eyebrow in response. "Until we know the whereabouts of your little sister, I simply want you to spend time with me when I ask for it." "That's it? What would spending time together mean? Not something...," (Y/n) vaguely implied. Alastor took a bite of his food before answering, "Oh, heavans no! I mean, doing something like this. Go outside or do an activity together." (Y/n) took a bite out of the food as well, humming at the great taste.

The deal doesn't sound bad and it will only last until their little sister's location is known, so not forever. "What if I break the deal?" They asked, making Alastor chuckle. "Then your soul is mine," he explained, taking another bite, "The reviews certainly didn't lie..." "And you will have to follow through, right? Until she is found," (Y/n) clarified, chewing down some meat. Alastor nodded, continuing to eat with a smile plastered across his face. Thinking over the offer, (Y/n) couldn't see a bad side to it. To be honest, it was fairly balanced and sounded innocent enough. "Alright," they agreed, "I'll take you up on that deal." "Wonderful! Truly wonderful!" Alastor stretched out his hand, "Shake my hand and the deal will be in effect." As soon as (Y/n) was about to shake green mist started surrounding them, making them hesitate.

Alastor reassured them, "Nothing to fear dear. It's normal when you make a deal with me." (Y/n) thought it over one last time before going to shake his hand. Just as they were about to seal the deal, a voice yelled from across the street, "Alastor?!" The man immediately turned to the voice. He frowned, yet his smile is still present. "Damn it, this isn't ideal...," he murmered, looking at (Y/n) who took their hand back. Their focus was now on the two figure strolling over, Mimzy and Rosie to be exact. "Alastor sweetie!" Mimzy called, "what'cha doing with such a lovely sinner?" "We are not interrupting, right?" Rosie asked, glancing at both (Y/n) and Alastor. "Actually-" "Oh no, not at all," (Y/n) cut him off, "but who are you guys exactly?" Alastor scowled deeply.

"I'm Rosie and this is Mimzy. We are both good friends of Alastor's," she explained. "Not after this you are...," Alastor quietly remarked. Mimzy gasped, "So we are interrupting! Gosh Alastor, I would have never expected you to be the romantic type." "Say what now?" Both (Y/n) and Alastor asked simultaneously. Rosie commented, "Are you not on a date?" This made (Y/n) flush a little. I mean, Alastor did call it a rendezvous, but they thought it was just some old-timey way of saying 'hanging out'. Alastor picked up on the reaction and had an idea. "Why yes!" He declared, taking (Y/n)'s hand, "We were having a lovely little date that has been interrupted by your presence." "Wait what-" "Oh dear, we are so sorry! We'll leave right away," Rosie apologised, quickly with leaving with Mimzy in tow.

(Y/n) kept watching their retreating figures, whilst Alastor continued eating. Looking down (Y/n) noticed Alastor still had their hand in his. They took it back, making the Overlord's gaze turn to them. "What's the matter, dear?" He asked, finding their nervous expression amusing. "Don't take it the wrong way, but I didn't think of this as a date," (Y/n) explained, "I've only been down here for like two days anyway.." Alastor nodded, feigning compassion, "That is very understandable, my dear and I am completely fine with that, but you said, you wanted to be more carefree, right?" (Y/n) hummed in agreement, finishing their food. "This could be a good starting point, don't you think?" Alastor asked, finishing his meal as well. Playing with the table cloth, (Y/n) avoided his piercing gaze. They just couldn't believe the sheer luck that cursed them, because if Alastor wants them romantically, does that night mean Vox wants them too?

They have no idea what is considered normal behaviour. To be fair, they have only been here for two days, but even then all they hear is insane shit from anyone who opens their mouth. Alastor does have a valid point, however... "I'm sorry," (Y/n) stood up, fishing out some stolen money from their pocket before putting it down on the table, "I think we should end this here." Alastor looked very surprised. He doesn't think anyone has ever rejected him before. Of course, it was either due to fear or for his charismatic personality. Has he gone rusty over the 7 years? Nevertheless, he continued on, "Alright, as you wish, dear. Allow me to pay for the meals." "No, no," (Y/n) countered, "I don't..." They sighed, struggling to talk at all.

Alastor remained seated, pulling out his wallet to leave his half of the bill on the table as well. "Then allow me to at least escort you back to the hotel," he requested, his tone shifting into something more soothing. It made (Y/n) tense up. "Listen, when I say we end it here, I'm saying we go our separate ways," they explained, adding, "I will still come back to the hotel. I just need some space is all." Alastor stood up perplexed. He was sure he couldn't have messed up that badly. "Why is that, might I ask?" His strained voice asked. Gulping nervously (Y/n) found his grin now to be very unsettling. "I don't wanna give you some sort of false hope," they began, fiddling with the card, "And I wanna go to Vox anyway..." "That picture box?" Alastor asked, clearly annoyed. "Yes, I know you don't like him, but I wanna meet the guy." (Y/n)'s response quieted Alastor down and made him so still in fact, they believed he went catatonic.

Just as (Y/n) thought to just leave, Alastor adjusted his coat with a huff, "Very well, if you desire to visit that nuisance, I suppose there is nothing I can do." They sighed before shrieking back when Alastor gently tapped their nose with his staff. "Be warned however," he stated, "He might not be in control of his emotions as much as I am. After all..." Alastor couldn't help, but laugh as he thought back to rejecting Vox's offer to join the Vees, "He is far more prone to deluding himself in a perfect image before realising reality can be much different." (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and replied, "Alright then... Glad you're not mad or anything." "Me? Mad?" Alastor laughed loudly, "At best I might be a tad jealous that you'd prefer getting yourself in trouble instead of relaxing on such a fine day with me, but alas, for our relationship to properly establish I believe I need to trust your judgement and let you do your own mistakes."

(Y/n) pressed their lips together into a fine line at the word 'relationship'. They hoped, he was saying that for a platonic relationship. "I'm gonna get going now," (Y/n) began, exiting the little restaurant with Alastor in tow, "For what it's worth, it was quite pleasant hanging out with you." They smiled at him which made the Overlord smile in return. "I agree, however please do consider our deal." (Y/n) looked confused before remembering the deal they almost agreed on. "Oh yeah! We can do that handshake thing after I visited Vox." Alastor nodded, although he would have certainly preferred doing it sooner rather than later. Both departed in opposite direction. The Overlord thought he might as well use the opportunity and search for Mimzy as well as Rosie. They need to know to not interfere his outings with (Y/n) for the future.

In the meantime the cameras of VoxTech picked up on (Y/n) leaving cannibal district. Vox, who was slumped on his desk, consumed by his irritating thoughts, sat up straight as a beep alerted of him. He rubbed his eyes before focusing on the screen. "They are moving...," he absentmindedly spoke as he realised what they were holding. "Oh shit," Vox cursed standing up and looking around, "They are headed this way. I need to clean up! I need to look my best! I need-" He stopped himself and took a deep breath, "I need to present VoxTech as a far more reliable option than the Hotel..." With a now much clearer mind, Vox made his office more suitable for guests.

(Y/n) on the other hand had a lot of trouble finding the adress. "This sucks...," they mumbled, noticing a sinner on the side of the road, "Ah! Excuse me, do you know-" "Get lost, asshole," he cut them off. Snarling (Y/n) grew in a couple of feet, monstrous features growing as well. The sinner cowered in fright at the sight, screaming in fear as (Y/n) brutally snapped their back in half before consuming them whole. After gulping down their meal, (Y/n) returned to their normal form. "So rude...," they murmered, burping as well as gagging, "Ah..., ugh also disgusting..." (Y/n) continued their journey, eating up any sinner who didn't give them directions. Thus they subsequently gained more power, however they would prefer to not get too full.

Just as they were about to give up completely, they saw the VoxTech sign in the near distance. A grin stretched onto their features as they headed straight to the building. VoxTech was huge, adorned with pretty lights and an overall sleek design. (Y/n) couldn't help, but find very flashy. "Vox doesn't seem like such a show off though...," they thought as they entered. The interior was coloured a light pink with a couple couches and plants as decoration. Of course, cameras were in every corner. (Y/n) grinned, flipping one camera off. In the middle of it all was the receptionist who was filing her nails. "Uh hi...," (Y/n) greeted, noting how the woman behind the desk seemed annoyed, "Can I see Vox, please?" She stopped, giving them an unbothered look before sighing excessively, "Name and time of appointment." "Oh uh, I got no appointment. Vox told me to visit him whenever. Though my name is-," they tried explaining but got cut off by the woman.

She laughed lowly, "Sorry, sweetheart, but move along. Mister Vox has no time for some delusional fan." (Y/n) scowled, their nose scrunching up as they growled, "I'm not someone you should laugh at. Now tell me where I can find him." The receptionist looked now annoyed. "Look, if you're not going willingly, I'm just gonna call security," she heaved a warning, adding, "Now scram, bitch." (Y/n)'s form started changing as their height grew and monstrous features became more present. "What did you call me?!" They yelled, baring all their teeth. Just as security arrived, so did Vox through one of the cameras. "(Y/n)!" He called out, making the sinner return to their regular form, "I would prefer you to not eat my incompetent employee." A wave of Vox's hand stopped the security officers and they quickly left. The receptionist however cowered as Vox towered over her.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm sorry, Sir. I thought they were just some-" "Just some fan," Vox smiled condescendingly, "Yes, yes, I heard that." He finally turned to (Y/n) a suave smirk on his lips. "My apologies, it seems a certain employee still has a lot to learn about how to treat guests," Vox softly spoke, stretching out his arm for (Y/n) to take. They rolled their eyes, still taking the offer. "It's fine," (Y/n) chuckled, "To be honest, this reminds me of when we first met." The comment had Vox almost break character as he quietly groaned, "Don't remind me..." (Y/n) laughed a little, relaxing as well. He smirked in return, "Let's go, shall we?" (Y/n) nodded, following Vox into a hall that lead to the enormous glass elevators which had a nice view on the streets.

A comfortable silence fell upon the two as the elevator took them up to the highest floor. Allowing their thoughts to just wander, (Y/n)'s eyes scanned over Hell's street. They were filthy, but at least the people walking around looked amusingly small, just like ants in fact. They looked far cuter from high up. Soft touches brought them back to reality. Vox was mindlessly stroking their hand gently. A brief glance up to Vox followed which he shortly noticed. He lightly smiled before looking back at the streets. This made (Y/n) frown as they took back their arm and put a stop to the soft touches.

Vox didn't protest. He just put his hands into his coat's pockets. The air grew slightly awkward after, but the journey came to end anyway. When (Y/n) stepped out though, they couldn't believe their eyes. The room was so large. It was like nothing to what they used to have growing up. Especially the huge screens accompanied by the just as huge desk made their breath hitch. There was also a dark blue couch with a small coffee table in front of it which looked very expensive. On the small table were also champagne, glasses and... "Queef?!" Vox called, panic surging through his cables, "What're you doing here?" Immediately he went and took the creature from the table. It barked, fidgeting in Vox's grasp. "What is that?" (Y/n) asked, finding amusement in the TV's frustration. Groaning Vox replied, "A Queef. It's the pet of my business partner." He quietly mumbled, "Why the fuck would Val leave him for me to babysit now?" Swiftly the Overlord went to the elevator and let Queef zip down to another floor.

Just as swiftly he went to his computer, typing away. (Y/n), in the meantime, opted to take a seat and pour themself a drink. The screen changed suddenly, displaying a very well dressed woman. "Ew, get that shit out of my face," she yelled before turning her attention to Vox, who had a scowl on his face, "What do you want?" "Val left Queef here. Take care of him for me, will ya?" He requested to be only met with a frown. "Why?" She drawled out, "Queef is gonna make a fucking mess in my studio." "Well, I have a guest to entertain, so-" "Oh, is it your crush?" She cut him off, making him chocke on air. "No, Velvet! They can hear you!" Vox stated, his voice taking on more white noise. "Oh!" Velvet came closer to the camera, noticing (Y/n) in the background, "Hi darling!" (Y/n) merely waved as they happily took another sip of champagne. Vox on the other hand simply stated, "He is already on his way, so take care of him. Okay, bye~!" "Wait, what-" The screen went black and Vox heaved a sigh before turning to (Y/n) with a strained grin.

Chuckling he smoothly spoke, "It seems we are cursed, sweetheart." "So it seems," they hummed, setting their glass down, "Good choice of alcohol. Want me to pour you a glass too?" Vox nodded, sitting down next to them, casually draping his arm over the couch. (Y/n) hand him his glass from which he took a healthy sip. "Thanks," Vox said, allowing himself to clear his throat, "So how has Hell been treating you so far?" He crossed his legs, leaning further to (Y/n). "Must have been rough if you came to me so fast," he mused, chuckling a little. (Y/n) shook their head, an easy smile on their lips. "Not at all, to be honest Hell has been far more soft to me than Earth has been," they replied, making Vox raise an eyebrow.

"Back on Earth I had to keep track of everyone and everything around to, you know, not get caught killing," they explained, relaxing into the couch, "but I don't have to worry here. I can eat whoever pretty much." (Y/n) laughed a little, thinking back to the times they had nightmares about getting caught and how silly it all seems now. After taking another sip, Vox set his glass aside. "So what I am hearing you came to gain more power to eat more folks?" He asked. Shaking their head (Y/n) explained, "No, no, I wanted to ask you to search for a person." Vox blinked a few times, "Huh?" "It's my little sister," (Y/n) began, "she died before I did and I just wanna know if she is down here or went to heaven." This made Vox pause who had several thoughts enter his mind.

After a brief moment, he took their hand and squeezed it gently, "I get that, but you should know that extermination exists where angels come down from heaven to slaughter sinners, so... you know." Placing their other hand on his (Y/n) softly tapped on it reassuringly. "Yes, I'm aware. Alastor explained that to me before," they said, noting how Vox's eye twitched for a moment, "But I thought you might have a database or something. You seem like the sort of guy with that kinda power." Chuckling lowly, Vox replied, "While I appreciate the compliment, I don't have such a database, I'm afraid." (Y/n)'s small smile faded at the revelation which made Vox frown a little. "Don't worry though, sweetheart," Vox quickly added, "I am well connected as an Overlord and I can gather as much info as possible for you." (Y/n)'s eyes filled with glee as they held onto Vox's hands brought them up to their chest in excitement. "Really?!" They asked, pure hope lacing their voice.

It made Vox screen glitch for a moment before he stuttered out, "Ye-Yeah, it's no big deal." Not being able to control their joy, probably due to the alcohol, (Y/n) hugged Vox tightly. The man yelped. His system started overheating and his screen had warnings appear of possible a shutdown. Pushing them back a little, Vox hit the side of his head to get his screen working again. "Oh sorry," (Y/n) mumbled. Vox shook his head, partially to show it's fine, but also to make his head clearer. "It's alright. It's not the first someone threw themself onto me," he laughed, but stopped as soon as he saw the joke didn't land with (Y/n). Clearing his throat, Vox stated, "I don't offer my help for free though. In Hell everything comes with a price." This made (Y/n) heave a small sigh.

They took a big gulp from their glass. "Alright, what do you want from me?" They asked, tapping their heel on the floor, "My soul?" "Oh hell no," Vox laughed, a genuine smile present on his face, "I'd just want you to join the Vees." "And what would that entail? Like what am I required to do?" They continued inquiring, thinking back to Alastor's deal. "Well, you would have to attend our meetings and participate in keeping VoxTech's reputation high," he explained smirking, "Of course, you would be entitled to ask for help from any of the other Vees within reason." (Y/n) thought over everything that was said.

It sounded like a regular networking organisation. "I would be an equal member to everyone else, correct?" Vox nodded, enjoying (Y/n) focused expression. "Honestly, sounds fine to me," they began, "but I would like to not be forced to go to the meetings." Vox frowned, "And why might that be?" "I have to spend time with Alastor whenever he wants," (Y/n) answered, making Vox grip on the couch tightly. "What?" He meekly asked. "Yeah, I got a deal going on with him," (Y/n) explained, noticing Vox ripping into the couch, "We haven't shaken hands on it, but I'm considering it." Taking a deep breath, Vox tried gathering his cool. He chuckled lowly, "You can't be serious." "I'm very serious. I know you don't like the guy," (Y/n) began gently. "That puts it fucking lightly...," Vox mumbled, gulping down the last bit of champagne from his glass.

(Y/n) huffed, "But I need as much help in finding her as I can get. It's also not like that deal would bind us forever, so it's fine." "No, it's not fine," Vox smiled condescendingly, "See, that's why you should trust me. Alastor didn't tell you he could just drag his feet on the matter, did he?" This made (Y/n) speechless. They didn't think through that, huh? There really is nothing really stopping him from dragging his feet, but he made it sound like he'd put effort in. "And what's with your offer then? You could drag your feet as well!" (Y/n) retorted, feeling a little embarrassed. "Heh, sure, but what harm would it do to you?" Vox asked, grinning sweetly, "All you are supposed to do is attend meetings and uphold the reputation of VoxTech. You don't have to do anything else!"

Feeling pretty out of their element, (Y/n) simply huffed, crossing their arms. "Whatever, I'll make a deal with whoever I want!" They stated, making Vox fume. "So you're telling me," he started, adjusting in his seat to face (Y/n) better, "You're just gonna bind yourself to that fucking asshole and be fine with it?!" (Y/n) stayed silent, only giving Vox an annoyed stare. This ticked Vox off quite a bit. "I swear if you weren't that powerful, I would just hit you...," he mumbled, curling his hands into fists. "You'd hit me?!" (Y/n) asked aggressively. Vox took a deep breath before yelling back, "Of course! Maybe a good hit will make you realise how dumb it would be to make a deal with that old-timey radio freak!" "Maybe you're right... Fuck," they mumbled. "Of course, I'm right!" Vox retorted, waving his arms in frustration.

Heaving a sigh through their lips, (Y/n) calmed down. Vox followed suit, realising he might have gone a bit too far with his antics. "You know what?" (Y/n) spoke, standing up, "I'll consider it, but I think I need to sleep over this before shaking on anything." The Overlord nodded, relaxing into his seat, "Fine by me, sweetheart. I just want you to know, there is always gonna another side of the deal to consider." "Yeah, yeah, mister fancy pants," (Y/n) replied, holding into their head, "Fuck, I think I'm getting a headache..." Looking back the sinner was about to bid goodbye, but then their gaze fell onto the half full bottle of champagne. "You still need that?" They asked, pointing at the bottle. Vox rolled his eyes. "Just take it." "Sweet!" (Y/n) smiled, taking the bottle, "Thanks! Sorry for yelling by the way..." "No problem, sweetheart," Vox laughed, "To be fair, I should also apologise."

(Y/n) waited, but was only met with silence. "So?" They asked, noting how Vox's grin got bigger. "I said I should, not that I would," Vox laughed loudly at his own little joke. (Y/n) just groaned, but couldn't help the smile forming. "Well!" They said, stretching their arms, "Thanks for the hospitality and alcohol. It was fun hanging out with you." "Of course, babe," Vox smirked, "You should visit more often in future." "Maybe I will," (Y/n) replied, heading to the elevator. Vox followed them and went down as well. As he put it, it is the gentlemanly thing to do, is it not? Even though (Y/n) was ready to just walk back to the hotel, Vox insisted taking his car. Naturally it came with his personal chauffeur as well.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, (Y/n) simply agreed and let the chauffeur drive them to the hotel. Vox waved goodbye as the car drove off. At first he didn't notice the genuine smile on his face, but when he headed back inside he noticed his face reflected on the glass of the elevator. Quickly Vox shook his head trying to fight the warm feeling in his chest. He is the Vox. He is an Overlord among sinners, a powerful being that is feared. A powerful new-comer should not effect him this badly, but... As he looked out the glass elevator, Vox looked for the car. He found it and smiled lightly. Maybe it's fine. Maybe he can make it work.

Vox concluded he needed to drink a little more.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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stayteezdreams · 5 months

Text

Snow Day

Plot: After a big snow storm, you and Jeongin go out for some fun in the snow. But along the way, certain hidden feelings are revealed.

Pairing: Yang "I.N." Jeongin x Gn!Reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: Nothing I can think of to note

Words: ~1.9k

The room was quiet as you scrolled on your phone. The faint music from Jeongin's earphones could just be heard as he laid on his bed beside you.

The plans you and your best friend made for the day had effectively been ruined when a snowstorm suddenly hit the city. So the fun day the two of you had planned turned into a calm day in, at least until now.

When your eyes wandered to the window after a few hours, you were surprised to no longer see the thick snow falling down. Rising, you looked out the window and grinned.

"The snow stopped!"

Jeongin hummed as he looked over at you seeing you peering out the widow with a wide smile. Joining you by the widow he was surprised at the amount of snow caking the ground outside. Even the sun had begun to peak through as the clouds thinned.

"Wow." He muttered before looking over at you as you turned towards him energetically.

"Let's go!"

"Huh?" He asked with raised brows.

"Lets go!" You repeated with a laugh as you ran to put on your coat.

Jeongin watched as you began pulling out his winter coat for him. He couldn't help the affectionate smile on his face as he watched you.

"I think everything will still be closed."

"I know! But we can still play in the snow!"

He giggled as you marched over to him and pulled a beanie over his head. His chest burned as he looked down at your wide smile.

"Play in the snow? Are you a kid?"

You frowned at him before replying with a curt nod. "Yes."

Quickly smiling again, you grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of his room. Jeongin feigned refusal and whined as you lead him to the front door.

There was no way he was actually going to argue with you to stay inside, especially not when you looked so excited.

Even if Jeongin felt the cold to his bones, and could no longer feel his nose, he was glad he let you drag him out into the snow. The smile that never seemed to leave your face made it worth it. You always made anything you did together worth it to him.

He watched as you walked ahead of him, knocking snow from low tree branches and giggling when the snow showered down on you. Every time you looked back at Jeongin he had to resist the cheek-taring grin that threatened to appear.

He adored the way you could enjoy everything to wholeheartedly, and how contagious your joy was. Just being around you made him feel safe and warm.

So he wasn't surprised of course, when he realized not too long ago that he was in love with you. His best-friend, his person. Of course he was, it made sense really. And, it would make sense if you were in love with him too. But he would never ask, never inquire, he was too afraid it only made sense to him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw you suddenly throw yourself to ground. For a moment he thought you had fallen, and he stared at you bewildered uncertain if he should run to your aid or laugh. Then, you looked over at him and waved him over with a bright grin.

"Come on! Let's make snow angels!

He shook his head with a laugh before he walked over to you. Standing over you, he peered down at you while you grinned up at him.

Giving in and lying down beside you, he copied your motions as you waved your arms and legs around. You both giggled like children as you did so, glancing over at each other in amusement as your clothes grew increasingly colder and more wet.

When your snow angels were finished you both lied still, silently staring up at the grey clouds.

You could sense the moment Jeongin looked over at you, and you waited for him to say something, but there was only silence. The butterflies in your stomach started to grow as you felt his gaze burning into you.

Why is he just staring at me again?

You often caught him staring at you recently. It made you nervous, yet hopeful. Hopeful that maybe he started to feel the same things you were, the change in feelings between you that you feared was one-sided.

Slowly, you turned your head until your eyes met his. You felt a shock jolt through you at the intense sincerity he had in his gaze.

Jeongin felt his breath catch when your eyes met his. He hadn't meant to stare for so long, but he couldn't help it. Now your eyes were locked with his, and you had a soft endearing smile and a twinkle in your eyes that made his stomach swirl.

A nervous twist in your stomach suddenly broke you from the locked tension between the two of you. You looked away from him and cleared your throat softly.

You gasped as you feigned suddenly getting an idea, though it had been in your mind since you first came out.

"Lets make some snowmen!"

Getting up quickly, you began searching around for an area with deep enough snow. Jeongin sat up and watched you, his heart racing in his chest as he understood what you were doing.

You felt the tension that passed between the two of you just as much as he did, and now you were trying to run away from it. He smiled to himself as he rose from the ground, a new determination rushing through him.

Even making snowmen hadn't distracted you from the heavy feelings in your chest. You constantly caught Jeongin watching you with a smile, and even the chilling cold couldn't keep the heat from rising through you.

Throwing away the empty hot chocolate cup that no longer held any warmth, you walked in silence beside Jeongin.

You reached into your pocket to take out your gloves, as you noticed the cold sinking back into your fingers now that your hot chocolate was gone. You stopped in your tracks and looked at the long path back behind you.

"What?" Jeongin asked perplexed.

"I lost a glove." You held one single glove in your hand as you pouted, wondering how far away you had dropped the other.

Jeongin snickered as he took the glove from your hand. You watched with nervous butterflies as he helped you put the glove on your hand. When done, he held out his own gloved hand and you rose your brow in confusion.

"You're other hand will get cold."

Before you could respond, he wrapped his hand around yours before continuing to walk alongside you. You stared at him with a bashful gaze as he had a soft smile on his face.

"I'll buy you new gloves.

"Oh, you don't have too!"

He looked back at you and grinned. "It's okay I want too."

"Th-thanks."

You hated how all confidence and comfort seemed to drain from you as nervous butterflies filled your stomach, and your heart beat rapidly in our chest.

It was Jeongin, your best friend. You shouldn't be feeling like this, but you did, and you had a feeling he knew it too.

Jeongin was trying desperately to repress a bright grin. His chest was warm and he was sure his ears were bright red underneath his hat.

He was trying to think of what to say, how to start the conversation, the conversation. He promised himself when watching you build your snowman, that he would confess to you before you made it back to the dorm. But as his chest was growing tighter each moment, he feared he may fail.

"Oh."

Jeongin looked over at you at the noise. Seeing you looking up, he followed you gaze just in time to see a snowflake fall between you. Only a moment later more followed as it began snowing once again. It wasn't heavy and thick like before, but gentle and soft.

As a smile spread across your face and small white flakes started peppering your head, the tightness in Jeongin's chest lifted. Why was he so nervous? It was you, the only person who he could possibly have these feeling for. And he knew well enough how you felt now.

He gently brushed some of the snow from your hat and you grinned at him. And when a flake landed on the tip of your nose, his smile widened as he gently wiped it away.

"Cute."

You felt your heat jolt as you rose your brows a him. "Hmm?"

Letting out a soft chuckle, he suddenly leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He could tell the breath caught in your throat and he repressed another chuckle as he spoke softly into your ear.

"You're cute."

When he stood back up you swallowed nervously. "Are you teasing me?"

He tilted his head innocently, "Aren't I allowed too?"

You shook your head and he chuckled.

"Would you let me if I was your boyfriend?"

It seemed like your heart stopped as you stared at him with a blank look, processing the sudden comment.

"What?"

"Would you let me tease you if I was your boyfriend?" He repeated his words simply as he stared at you with a soft knowing smile.

"Do- do you want to be able to tease me that badly?"

"No. I just want to be your boyfriend, I'm just hoping teasing is a perk that comes with it."

"Jeongin, are you seriously asking to be my boyfriend?"

You repressed a grin as anxiety and excitement jolted through you.

Jeongin grinned as he nodded his head. "Yes, I am."

Relief and elation coursed through you as you stared at each other. The genuine smile and look of affection in his gaze, told you there was no deceit or exaggeration in his words or feelings.

Taking a small step closer you peered up at him, "What if I say no?"

Jeongin smiled, sensing the teasing tone in your voice.

"Then I'll ask you again tomorrow. And if you say no again, I'll wait until the next day."

You giggled at this, causing him to squeeze your hand and pull you another step closer.

His eyes grazed over your face and you felt like he could see every thought crossing your mind.

"So? Can I be your boyfriend?"

"Will you still be my best friend too?" You asked softly.

He nodded his head "Of course. No one is taking that title away from me."

You grinned before nodding, "Then of course. Of course you can be my boyfriend Jeongin."

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You rested your head against his chest, hearing the rapid beating of his heart that you knew matched your own. Looking up at him, you grinned at each other before he pressed a quick soft kiss to your nose.

You both looked up as the snow began pelting down faster than before.

"We should get back before we freeze to death."

Nodding, Jeongin pulled away before grabbing your hand again and pulling you along. As you ran back towards the dorms, laughing as you went, you couldn't care less about the cold, not when your heart was so warm.

xx End xx

I just can't seem to resist the cliche storybook ending line can I?? lmao

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669

Stray Kids + I.N. Taglist: @laylasbunbunny, @skz1-4-3, @prettymiye0n, @thunderous-wolf, @dlmlufics, @thedistractedwriter, @hongjoongsprincess

#jeongin x reader #jeongin/reader #i.n x reader #i.n/reader #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeoning/reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids/reader #12 days of christmas #stray kids imagine #i.n imagine #jeongin imagine #jeongin fanfic #i.n fanfic #kpop christmas fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids christmas fic #skz imagine

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

Text

To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising start! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

��Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

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