#woke up with this reverberating inside my head this morning
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“Aragorn called Wingfoot? More like Aragorn called WingMAN, am I right lads?”
#woke up with this reverberating inside my head this morning#and i resisted sharing it with (inflicting it on) the rest of you as long as i could#but you know what? even frodo failed eventually#so i suppose this is just me proving that i would have been a bad choice to carry the ring#anyway#you know aragorn ships it if only out of the exasperated hope that they'll become less insufferable once they figure it out#(he's wrong. he's SO wrong. and he weeps about it later after they DO figure it out and become somehow WORSE)#aragorn#third wheel aragorn is the best aragorn#gimleaf#gigolas#lotr#my stuff#my bullshit more like#and i am back on it like am elf upon a mumakil there's no getting off this train i think
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『Mornin', Dollface』⇝♡
⭒Synopsis: How does your sweet boyfriend, Satoru Gojo, wake you up after living with you for over a year?
⭒Warnings: NSFW, fluffy smut, sleepy sex, oral (f receiving), afab!reader, LOTS of praise, princess treatment, somnophilia, reader is an eepy goober
⭒Setting: Gojo's silly lil apartment away from Juju tech
⭒Notes: I guess this could technically be considered a request from a friend, but all she gave me was "MORNING SEX" so.....
How does your boyfriend wake you up most mornings? With his tongue inside you, of course.
He was always up before you. He was a teacher, after all, and you...
Well, in his words, you were "living the good life."
He had talked you into quiting your job when the two of you had moved in together. He claimed that princesses shouldn't have to work. Especially when he could just shoulder the bill for anything you asked for. And so, despite occasionally feeling like a freeloader, you went along with it.
So, with nothing to do but laze around or go out for a stroll, you slept in most mornings. Sort of. There was the fact that every morning, despite being unemployed, you were awoken at the sunrise, even before, by Satoru's head between your thighs.
This morning was no different. You awoke to your own involuntary whimper, and hot pleasure in your core. You could feel your hand fumbling against your thigh, trying to grab for something. Satoru's hair, no doubt, which you'd expect to be muscle memory by now.
A chuckle reverberated against your clit where his lips were fastened around it. His hand found yours before it could find his head, and he pulled away with his mouth, instead pressing his thumb to your nub as he spoke to you.
"You awake, pretty girl?" His seductive, but clearly still tired, voice called up to you. God, did the sound of it make you clench on nothing.
You pried your eyes open with a struggle. You were lucid enough to give him a hum, signifying you were somewhat conscious.
"Hi, baby," he murmured, pressing a few kisses to your thigh. His mouth soon found its way back to your clit, licking and sucking it just a bit harder now.
"Satoru," you whined out, still sounding more asleep than awake. Nonetheless, a dopey grin spread across his face, and he had to pull away again.
"How's my sweet girl? Did she sleep well?" He kissed across your other thigh now. "Ready to get back to it, I bet. Don't worry, once I'm done making you feel good, you can pass right back out."
You squeezed his hand, an implied way of saying 'I love you'. Satoru, being such a physically affectionate person, had started coming up with physical ways of saying such things. When words didn't seem like enough, he'd tug you close, making sure the angle was right so you could feel his heartbeat, and squeeze you in his arms. He wished he could have you with him all the time, hanging off him. He'd wear you like a backpack if it wasn't so dehumanizing, and probably frowned upon in public.
Your exhausted, barely-open eyes looked down into your boyfriend's gorgeous ones, finding they were already on you. With his free hand, he waved playfully at you, even as he continued lapping at your clit, making you whimper.
Soon, that free hand replaced his lips again, one finger tracing around your hole as his thumb worked your clit. He leaned up from between your thighs and scattered kisses across your face, nuzzling against your cheek.
"You awake yet, baby? Need me to make you feel even better?" At that, one of his long fingers slipped inside you. Easily, considering how long he'd been doing this before you woke up.
"Sato..." you murmured.
"I'm right here, Sweetheart." He gave your hand a kiss before he let go of it and slipped his arm under your waist, pulling you close to him. "Take your time waking up." He pressed his lips to your neck, leaving wet kisses against the skin.
Once he slipped another finger into you, you doubted he actually wanted you to take your time. It was only a few moments after that that you were more awake than not, arms wrapped around Satoru as you moaned against the top of his head.
Your groggy moans were so sexy to him, and the way your body was twitching, your hips rolling against his fingers involuntarily - he doubted you even knew it was happening. He could feel your slick starting to drip down his hand, and he had to tilt his head up, lips close to your ear.
"Want me to make you cum now, pretty girl? Or you want me inside you?"
"I-inside," you stuttered out, almost sounding desperate.
"That's my girl. So good to me."
You took a moment's break as he pulled his fingers out of you and tugged his boxers down. He gave himself a few strokes before lining up his tip with your entrance. He gave you a soft smile as he spoke. "Ready?"
"Yeah," you let out, letting your eyes wonder down his body. He was absolutely gorgeous, from head to toe, and all yours every morning. How? You didn't have a damn clue.
His length pushed in embarrassingly easy, and he leaned down, laying against your chest. His hand found one of yours and held it gently, while his other arm snaked back under you and held you close.
"How's that feel? Doesn't hurt, right?"
"No, feels good," you responded, feeling the walls of your cunt gently clench around him. He groaned softly against your skin, then leaned up and smiled at you, kissing your cheek a few times.
"Ready for me to move?"
"Mhm."
At your confirmation, he carefully drug his hips back and forth, going slow to start. You let out a quiet mewl at the friction, gripping onto Satoru with weak, tired hands. He let out gruff hums against your neck, knowing how much you loved it when you could hear him. Your cunt was still clamping around him lovingly, and he could feel himself already getting close. Telling from your moans, though, you had to be too.
"Getting close, Sweetheart?"
"Mhm!" You gasped out.
"Me too."
From there, it only took a few more, quicker, thrusts to send you both over the edge. You grabbed aimlessly against Satoru's back, just looking for somewhere to hang on (and accidentally leave a few scratches over the ones from most other mornings), and stuffed your face into his shoulder to muffle yourself. Meanwhile, he did the opposite, making sure you heard every groan he let out as he painted your insides.
As you both caught your breath, you felt your boyfriend relax, going limp and stuffing his face into the nearest part of you, which happened to be your chest. He kept his arms wrapped around you, using them to squeeze you close you him and kiss across your skin.
The two of you laid like that for a few moments, with your nails scratching at Satoru's scalp in a way that made his eyes want to roll. After only 5 minutes, though, you were asleep again. Your boyfriend looked at you, a smile of adoration on his face before he leaned up to kiss your forehead.
"Sweet dreams, Love of my life."
He got up and got ready to go to Jujutsu Tech, cleaning the both of you up in the process. He shot your sleeping figure one last glance before exiting the room, wishing he could sleep in with you.
#gojo fanfic#gojo satoru#gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#jjk fanfic#jjk gojo#jjk gojo satoru#jjk x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo#gojo satoru x you#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru smut#satoru x reader#jjk satoru
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The Nanny (Hangman x Reader)
authors note: so, hangman won by a long shot in the poll, but for the few that voted for the rest, they're still coming! i have to deal with the bs with my basement and i am a college student, so i have to deal with my coursework as well.
inspired by @roosterforme
this will be a mutli part series, im not sure how many parts though
pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x benjamin niece!reader; established mav x penny
warnings: some swear words and an inaccurate depiction of how social workers handle dropping a baby off to its living, absent father. also cyclone is a dad bc jon hamm if a dilf.
not proof or beta read, we die like men.
summary: Hangman wakes up one day to a social worker and an infant on his doorstep. the infant? his 3 month old daughter.
word count: 1.9k
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It was the one day that the Dagger squad had a later morning (11am, per Maverick’s request), so when the pounding on Jake’s door woke him up at 8:45, he was a little pissed.
He stumbled out of bed and the arms of some red head whose name he definitely doesn’t remember, throwing on a shirt along the way to his front door where the pounding is originating from and reverberating through his skull. “I heard you the first fucking time,” he curses out, throwing the door open and preparing to unleash verbal hell on the person standing at his doorstep.
All the words die out though when he sees an older woman standing there with a sleeping baby in a car seat at her feet. “Jacob Seresin?” she asks and his eyes bounce between the infant and the woman.
“Yes?” he asks, voice cracking a bit as he looks back to the woman.
“Do you mind if I come in?” he nods and moves aside as she picks up the car seat and steps inside. “My name is Caroline Husband, I’m a social worker for the state of California.” she tells him as she sets the seat down on his coffee table, “and this is Avery. Your daughter.”
Jake feels his heart stop as he looks down at the little girl, “what, what do you mean?” he sinks down to the floor on his knees, heart racing and Caroline gives him a small smile.
“Her mother-” she looks down at the paperwork she was holding, “Samantha Barnes, passed away from complications shortly after birth, you were listed as father on the birth certificate.”
Samantha Barnes… Jake remembered her with a small smile. They were briefly exclusive before she had disappeared one night, leaving behind the memories and a note saying she needed to go back home to help with her ailing father, her last living relative that she still spoke to.
“H-how uh, how old is she?” he asks, taking her small, but definitely bigger than a newborn, hand in between his finger and thumb.
“She spent some time with a foster while the state was waiting for you to return stateside. She just turned 3 months old.” Caroline forms him, which makes sense as he was just in the middle of the ocean for the last five months. “I have some supplies in my car that her foster mom put together for you, should you choose to keep her.”
“Choose to?” he asks, as if there was any other option for him. The second he found out Avery was his, there was never any other option.
“You can alway sign your parental rights away, there’s plenty of families looking to adopt babies.” she says and he shakes his head.
“No, she stays with me,” Jake says as he stands and Caroline smiles up at him.
“Well then, there’s all the information that you need. Her old foster mom made a list of information for you, her pediatrician, what formula she was feeding, how to prepare bottles...” she goes on to tell him more necessary information about Avery but tunes her out as he watches the little girl start to wake up and look around, well, as much as a 3 month old can, he supposed. “Here’s my card, it has my personal cell phone number on the back should you not be able to reach me at my office in the event of an emergency.”
He takes it with a smile and a thank you before walking Caroline to the door to help her bring the items in from her car and as quickly as she was here, she was gone. Leaving Jake to sit on his couch as he stares into the eyes of his daughter.
He kicks out his guest after 15 minutes of sitting there before he’s googling how to put a car seat base securely into the back seat of a F-150. After fighting for what felt like an hour (only 10 minutes) he has his daughter secured in his car before driving way under the speed limit to The Hard Deck, only 45 minutes late to meeting up with the rest of the Daggers but as soon as they see him walk into the bar with a car seat, all the teasing for being late blows out of there mind.
“Do we need to call the police?” Bradley teases and Jake lets out a nervous laugh.
“No.. no police needed.” Jake says as he sets his daughter’s car seat and diaper bag in the middle of the pool table the team was surrounding.
“Well, then who is this?”
Jake takes a deep breath before answering, “this is my daughter, Avery Seresin.”
Immediately the team has plenty of questions for the team’s resident playboy. He explains the situation as best he can with the information he got from Caroline.
“I never even knew Sam was pregnant. She never said anything and then she was gone.” Jake says softly as he looks down as his daughter in his arms, sleepily drinking from the bottle he made and Penny gives him a smile.
“You seem like a natural already.” she says, snapping a photo of the daddy-daughter moment and he smiles.
“Yeah, I was still around when my sisters started having their own kids, all girls too, ironically.” he responds with a small laugh and the movement of his chest startled Avery awake and she starts drinking more steadily again.
The squad takes the rest of the day before the bar opens with turns holding the newest member of the team. Aside from Jake, Bob and Natasha were the only other two who seemed comfortable enough to hold her without needing any instruction on support for her head.
“Does Cyclone know you have a kid yet?” Mav asks as he takes his turn holding Avery, seasoned from when Bradley was a baby and he used to watch him while Carole and Goose needed alone time.
“Fuck, no not yet.” Jake groans as he rubs his hands over his face. “I need to go see him.”
“Go see him now, between Penny being a mom and me dealing with Bradley as a baby there’s plenty of experience here to watch Avery for a bit while you try to get some time to adjust to dad-life.” Mav says and Jake looks over at him.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah, besides, Avery is already better at 3 months than Rooster ever was.” Mav teases and Bradley makes a couple of offended noises before being slapped in the chest by Natasha.
Jake nods, “okay well here’s her-”
“Hangman, get out of here. I did all this with Amelia.” Penny says as she pushes him towards the door and Jake pulls her into a hug.
“Thank you so much, Pen.” he says, meaning it too since Penny is the closest thing to a mom that he has since he hasn’t talked to his real mom in years.
The drive into base wasn’t a long one, but felt like it was with how often he was checking his backseat and not seeing his daughter before remembering she was safe with Penny and Maverick at the bar.
Walking into Admiral Simpson’s office, Jake broke out into a nervous sweat. “Um, excuse me, sir.” he says as he knocks on the open door.
Both Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates looked up at him from where they were sitting at the desk discussing some news that they received from higher ups.
“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Cyclone asks and Jake nods, taking that as an ‘okay’ to walk into the office.
“Yes actually, I uh.. I was wondering if I would be able to get leave, sir. I had a surprise visit from a social worker this morning and-and my infant daughter.” he says as he straightens out his back and rolls his shoulders back.
“You have a child?” Cyclone asks, closing the folder that he had open to focus more on Jake. “Since when?”
“Well, as of 9am this morning, sir. Her mother passed away after she was born and no other living relatives so… She’s currently with me. Well, not with me Captain Mitchell and Penny Benjamin are currently watching her.. sir.”
Warlock and Cyclone share a look and Jake stands there nervously, “I know that this is short notices but all I’m asking for is a week to figure things out, find a sitter, get some kind of a routine started for-”
“Okay.” Cyclone says and Jake looks at him instead of the spot that he had been looking at on the wall. “You only want just one week?”
“I can have more, sir?” Cyclone nods, having recently become a father himself and knows how important bonding is for parents.
“Unless something urgent comes, how does three weeks sound?” he asks as he pulls something up on his computer and begins to type.
“I would greatly appreciate that.” Jake says with a small smile and Cyclone nods, ending the conversation and Jake starts to walk out of the office.
“Seresin?” Warlock calls out and Jake turns around, “congratulations.”
“Thank you, sirs.”
Jake drives back to the bar already feeling lighter than he had in the last 6 hours, and upon walking back into the watering hole, he sees a red faced Avery and a panicked Rooster.
“Bradshaw what did you do to my daughter?”
“What did I do? She threw up on me!” he says, holding the infant safely, and at an arm's length away.
The rest of the team is laughing behind him and Jake just takes Avery and lays her against him so her head is on his shoulder, “well I’m sure you deserved it.”
Bradley glares at him before wandering away to the bathroom to clean up. Jake smiles and rubs his daughters back as she babbles in his ear.
“How did talking to the boss go?” Penny asks and Jake smiles.
“Really good, actually. Said I can have three weeks as long as nothing urgent comes up that’ll need the full team's attention.”
“Well, if you ever need a nanny so you can have a break and none of us are available, my niece just moved to the area and is looking for work.” Penny says with a small smile as Jake moves to sit next to her. “Plus she has a degree in early childhood and special education.”
“Okay, yeah I’ll let you know.” he says with a nod.
“Well, you can meet her tonight, she’s supposed to come and help me out here for the night since Jimmy can’t make it in.” Jake just nods and Penny pats his shoulder that Avery isn’t sleeping on while she stands to start opening duties for the bar.
Jake didn’t end up meeting Penny’s niece that night, or any time in the following week. In fact, it wasn’t until the last week of his leave that he met her.
Jake was holding Avery as he walked into the bar before it opened, she was babbling up a storm and he took his sunglasses off to put on the top of his head when he saw someone new behind the bar, head thrown back and laughing at something that Bob had said.
You look over at him and he swears his heart stopped, “Hi! I’m Y/N Benjamin, but you can call me Saturn.”
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next part
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taglist: if you want to join the taglist for all my future works, shoot me a message and i'll be happy to add you :)
@mandylove1000
#glen powell imagine#jake seresin#hangman seresin#jake 'hangman' seresin#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#top gun maverick#dagger squad#bradley bradshaw#bob floyd#natasha trace#hangman seresin x reader#not beta read we die like men
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“What do you want to watch?” tatgylb. i imagine mat getting home from a game after mama bear puts ella to bed. mama bear sitting on the couch not doing much and when mat gets home they decide to watch a tv series (right after she moves in)
perfect! i loved this request (i love writing scenes for tatgylb, especially when i'm procrastinating on part 6 lol). and what a soft moment i never ever thought about! thank you for your creativity!!
here it is!
it had been a long day. ella didn't sleep well during the night, and was cranky all day until her afternoon nap (she hardly slept during her morning nap too). when she woke up, she was an angel, but by that point you were dead on your feet.
so you sat her down in her play pin while got her dinner ready. things moved pretty quickly after that, with ella eating dinner and then taking a bath before you put her down to sleep.
you immediately fell into the couch and turned on mat's game while the sound of ella's sound machine reverberated through the baby monitor on the coffee table.
truth be told, you weren't super into hockey before you met mat. you picked up a few things from just the amount of highlight videos you've watched to get a feel for what's impressive and what's not allowed.
but you were still kinda lost without mat there to explain things. you supposed you could text sydney, but she was probably at the game.
so google was your only option. you found yourself googling calls the refs were making at different points in the game.
it wasn't long before the third period ended with the isles losing 4-2.
you were scrolling on your phone when mat came home. he dropped his stuff down at the entry way and mumbled a hello to you before heading back to his room. you thought that was the end of it until he came out in basketball shorts and a seattle thunderbirds tee shirt.
"what're we watching?"
you shrugged, too exhausted to have an opinion. "what do you wanna watch?" you held the remote out towards him and he took it albeit hesitantly.
"anything but espn, i don't think i can take another highlight reel or analytics of my shitty performance tonight." he scrolled through the channels before exiting out and going to disney plus.
he stopped over the animated movies and hesitated. "what's your favorite disney movie? and don't say the lion king, i can't take more sadness."
you shrugged. "maybe you should pick tonight, after all it seems like you've had a shitty day."
"you're slouching and you look dead inside, i think it's safe to say you also didn't have a great day today either."
"we could watch mulan?" mat nodded and pressed play on the movie.
when the music of the intro started playing, you could see him look at your from the corner of your eye.
you hesitated but looked at him anyway. "are you okay?"
he nodded. "in case i don't say it enough, thanks for helping with ella. it means the world to me."
you smiled back, a genuine one that almost hurt your cheeks. "it means the world to me too, mat."
#tatgylb#1k celebration#mat barzal#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal imagine#mathew barzal imagine#mathew barzal
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My New Neighbor Chapter 4: My New Neighbor
TRIGGER WARNING: This story will eventually contain violence, angst, threat of death, swearing, dark humor, adult themes like sex & drugs, racism, classism, sexism etc. Do not say you have not been warned
Chapter 4: My New Neighbor
I woke up Sunday morning and just stared at my ceiling for the first few minutes, debating if I would rather go back to sleep or get out of bed. My stomach decided for me, as I felt a pang of hunger rumble out from my abdomen. With a groan, I turned over to unplug my phone, checking the time to see I slept 12hr, it was already 11:30am. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched a little bit before swinging my legs over the bedside and standing with a few cracking joints. While scrolling through my notifications, I see I received a text from the Building Manager, Marcus, the guy who gave me the tour a little over a month ago. “Friendly reminder to make sure you introduce yourself to your new neighbor, they’re completely moved in as of yesterday!😁👍” Marcus was a good guy, always seems like he is looking out for me. He’s even brought me my mail from the lobby when the mail carrier couldn’t open my mailbox. Any other Building Manager would have just kept it at the front desk until I asked about it. I decided that today would be the day I introduce myself to the new guy in the building, but first I needed to look presentable.
I ate, got ready & did my hair, all the while mentally preparing to meet the neighbor I would have for at least a year. I gave myself a little pep talk, reminding myself of the common interests we might share “Sports, cars, music, outdoors…Okay I got this!” I said out loud to no one but myself. I check myself one last time in the mirror, totally not stalling for time as I repeat “Sports, cars, music, outdoors. Sports, cars, music, outdoors….” Eventually, I find myself at the human-sized doorway that leads into the giant side of the apartment. I stood at what felt like a threshold, gathering the nerve to knock. As I lifted my fist towards the door, I noticed a button on the wall next to the door I hadn’t seen before. It was just a small and round white button, over it was a little sign saying “Ring for Unit 2”. That makes sense, no giant is going to hear a Human knocking at this tiny door. With a shaking finger, I press the button to hear a doorbell ringing on the other side. I tentatively waited for any sound, praying he wasn’t home right now. I wouldn’t mind considering this practice for the real deal, I would be comfortable trying again, later. But, so my luck would have it, I hear my Unit Partner on the other side of the door get up and buzz me in, just like the apartment entrance way. I almost did not grab the knob in time to open the door, I froze momentarily as the buzzing sound filled my own apartment. Ever so gently I crack the door open and peek my head inside to see an enormous living space. I finally open the door fully and can’t help but look around like I was in a different world completely. I have been in integrated areas before, but nothing like this. The furniture was to scale for a giant, the appliances, the decor…it was exactly like my apartment’s layout, except colossal in size. After my eyes got their fill, I called out “Hellooo?” I said with hands cupped around my mouth, hoping to make myself known. Being on the floor of a strange giant’s apartment was no easy task & not for the faint of heart…so I wondered why I agreed to participate in this program at all. I felt them coming before I heard them. The footsteps reverberated throughout the unit, so I opted to stay close to my door, ready to run back in should a stray foot not notice me here. I watched the hallway area as the footsteps became closer. “I’m coming!” called a voice back to me. “Not a man” I thought to myself, that voice was definitely female. I kept my eyes on the entrance to the hallway to see a giantess, 80ft tall who I unfortunately recognized as the giantess from last night. I felt my stomach drop & heart start racing. Quickly I did what I could to cover my face, cursing whatever God set me up like this. I needed to get the hell out of here, but it was too late. Her shadow descended upon me like a hawk on a mouse and there was no backing out now.
“You’re my Unit Partner, right?” She asks with a warm smile, the same kind she offered to me last night before I completely disrespected her. She hasn’t noticed it was me yet from all the way up there & I was hoping she would stay up there. “It is a pleasure to meet you!” She said as she offered me a deep bow as a sign of respect. I returned the bow, the words stuck in my throat, I couldn’t muster the strength. After a moment of keeping my head down in a bow, I looked back up at her as she remained bent over with a smile. At that moment we made eye contact and I saw her eyes change as she recognized me. I felt my body go cold and I felt nauseous as she said one simple word: “YOU!” She says, standing straight and pointing down at me. “YOU’RE my Unit Partner?” I swallowed back the vomit I felt creeping up my throat and nodded. I offered a crooked and weak smile “Yep…Nice to meet you…” I said meekly. She folds her arms and starts walking even closer to me. I grabbed the doorknob ready to make a quick exit. “Relax.” She says, watching me reach for the door. “I'm not going to kill you. I'm just coming down there to talk to you” She says as she takes a seat on the hardwood floor. Her descent to the floor made me have to brace the handle a little as the flooring shook. As she sat, I could feel myself calm down a bit. Not having her 80ft frame towering over me would make this first meeting a lot easier on my nerves.
I slowly let go of the doorknob and turned to face her again, still struggling to find the words I desperately needed. “So, you’re the asshole who I am stuck with for a year. How great for me that I get to partner with a racist.” She said, referring to last night & I winced at the memory. I felt shameful as I was reminded of my actions & words from yesterday. I took a few steps forward & away from the door “Hey. About that? I'm sorry. That wasn't cool, I know you were trying to help. I just got overwhelmed. All the shit from yesterday piled up & got the better of me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.” I looked up to see if I could read her thoughts through her facial expression, but she did not give me much to work with, her face remained stoic & placid. I remind myself to maintain a calm & cool demeanor like I promised myself earlier. I figured I owed her a little more than a weak apology. “It wasn't a race thing, you could have been anybody or anything & I still would have snapped. I was overwhelmed with almost being mugged & being booed at and…I don’t know… I let it all get to me. You were just the closest thing to a target to vent all my frustrations out on. Do you think we can start over?” I asked with a shrug, looking up at her dark brown eyes, which still glared at me.
I watched her contemplate everything I said and slowly nod “Sure, we can start over I guess. I mean, who hasn’t been overwhelmed or had a bad day? I am willing to look past it if you agree never to talk to me like that again.” Her tone really shot through me there, feeling a bit like a threat. I nodded and gave a laugh ”Now that you know where I live, I don’t think it would be smart for me to do that again, would it?” I say in a desperate attempt to appease her better nature. I got a small smirk from her as I finally felt my shoulders drop a bit as the tension in the room subsided. I decided I would try & continue the role of ‘polite roommate.’ “I’ll get us started. I’m Cain, your Unit Partner, pleased to meet you.” I say with an over exaggerated bow, looking up to her with a cheesy smirk. I watch her deeply bow back to me from where she sat “The pleasure is mine Cain. My name is Vi, short for Hillevia, the name I never wish to be called!” She said with a sense of humor lacing her words. “I’ll make a mental note of that, Vi.” Suddenly a lul in the conversation made an appearance, but I was prepared for this. With overzealous confidence I asked “So, do you like music, cars, sports or the outdoors?” as though I was a kindergartener reciting lines for a bad school play. Vi held back a laugh “What, you practice that in your mirror?” she asked sarcastically with a raised brow, not expecting me to confirm that joke as fact. My face flushed a deep red color as I squeaked out “Maybe once or twice…” I could feel my face fluster in embarrassment.
After a while, the conversation moved into Vi asking questions to get to know me better. I told her about my hobbies & interests, focusing on my passion for music for the most part. She was a good listener, I will give her that. She even let me tell my middle school talent show story from start to finish. For a moment, I had forgotten I was talking to a giant. She was so quiet and just let me go on & on for about 20 minutes, until I noticed her rubbing her back. I then realized I was dominating the conversation while she was still sitting on the floor. With an almost staggering realization, I apologized for rambling. “I just realized you are still sitting on the floor. I can always wrap it up?” I offered to at least give her the relief of finding a supportive chair. Vi nodded “Yea, sitting on the floor is not the most comfortable for me. If you wanted, I could bring you to the coffee table or something?” She turned and pointed to a coffee table that was easily 20-feet tall, much taller than I would be able to reach. She turned back to me, offering to pick me up & onto the coffee table to continue our conversation. My nerves froze me in place. I could feel the anxiety rising in my stomach & my back stiffen, as if I was about to climb onto a roller coaster. Except, I liked roller coasters, they were safer than riding in a giant’s palm. I did what I could to be polite when declining the offer, so as to not offend her. “T-that’s alright, I was going to mention I have to get going anyways, otherwise I would blabber all day.” I played it cool, trying not to give her the wrong impression of me. I already fucked up my first impression, I did not want to fuck up my do-over. Vi shrugged and moved to stand “That’s alright, I get it. I have a lot of unpacking to do and I am taking any distraction I can to stall.” The wave of relief I felt in that moment paired with her mention of stalling the unpacking actually made me give a sigh of relief and a small laugh. “I don’t envy that unpacking. I’ll see you around then?” I asked as I walked towards the door into my apartment. “I’ll be around” she said with a smile, waiving ‘goodby’ while watching me leave her apartment.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt a sense of pride being able to have a conversation with one of them so well. I felt hopeful about rooming with this Vi lady. She didn’t seem too bad so far. If I can keep my interactions with her to a minimum, I should be good.
#g/t#g/t fluff#g/t related#giant/tiny#g/t talk#g/t story#g/t community#g/t writing#giant tiny#g/t angst
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Hannah, how about morning sex with onf? (just an idea) ^^
Sorry for the long wait, my love. This came out so so soft. I hope you enjoy it!
They will be back soon!!!
Morning sex with ONF
Mostly how they start morning sex
Pairing: ONF x female reader
Warnings: bad language, semi-sonmo (with assumed consent), mentions of oral, mentions of penetration, mentions of masturbation
Bonus song rec: HOMESWEETHOME, by Yerin Baek
➹Hyojin:
It usually starts with him refusing to get up and not letting you go. "What can be better than staying here with your man?" Is there any reasonable reason? Anyways, sometimes, you all just stay in bed for way too long.
Hyojin tightened his grip on your wrist after you insisted on leaving his side. Even though it was evident that he was fully awake, he started arguing that he needed more time and you certainly needed it too. He kissed your inner wrist with closed eyes, methodically going up your arm. " Also, you know I can eat pussy so well" he whispered against your shoulder.
"Boy, it's 9 AM" you chuckled, not sure whether he was truly down for it. The only thing he wanted was you lying back, right? You rested your body on the mattress, intrigued to see where that was leading you all to.
"Can I?" he asked brushing his nose on yours and delicately pulling on your waistband.
➹J-Us (Seungjun):
It starts with the two of you waking up very close. Your leg circling his waist and his face onto your neck/breasts.
He regained his conscience and nuzzled you awake. "Babe, you smell so good. Am I in a garden?"
You roused muddled, his voice calmly saying you were in his arms. It was so warm there, his breath tickled you in a good way. "G' morning, Jun" you murmured, still feeling your neck being sniffed by your boyfriend.
He alternated nose rubs and pecks all over your neck and jaw until he wanted more of you. Red patterns took your sensitive skin over and his skilled hands had pulled your strap top down. You did not even feel that coming, yet your nipples were between his fingers.
➹E-Tion (Changyoon):
You know it when you all will be making love in the morning by the kisses he traces down on your back. He never wakes you up harshly but when he is in a mood, he becomes mischievous.
The kisses he gifted you were indecent, they were noisy and it seemed like he was trying to save a melting popsicle. You woke up with your shirt rolled up and his sensual presence to arouse you. "My love," you whimpered "what do you want from me?"
"Is this bad?" he promptly asked just to turn back to his conduct because he knew the answer you would give him.
"On the contrary" you just formalize half moaning the words. Changyoon slowly laid on top of you, deliciously crashing you onto the mattress. His erection settled right between your butt cheeks while his mouth stood close to your ear "I want you so bad, let me be inside you"
➹Wyatt (jaeyoung):
On most occasions, it starts with you. You see him sleeping and even though he holds the prettiest pout, his arms are so damn bulky that it makes you curse in your head.
You kissed him good morning and whispered sweet nothings so he woke up smiley. "Please, more kisses" he requested low, in a way that have your mind speeding up. You need to hear his lazy moans in your ear.
You do as he asked for, lingering your lips on the corner of his own before saying your plea. "I wanna make love to you". He chuckled and leisurely grabbed you by the middle in order to bring you closer. His leg easily slid between yours and he started to suck on your shoulder. That had you hyperventilate in no time, like a fool. "Jaeyoung..."
A deep grunt reverberated from him every time you gasped his name. You hated the way he got you out of your mind before you could do anything. Even your hips moved by themselves so your folds rubbed against his leg.
➹MK (Minkyun):
It starts with him pretending he does not want you to wake up.
His nose brushed on your shoulder blade and he purred from time to time. You jerked a few times in your sleep so his heart fluttered in response but you were just slightly shifting position. He did not notice it but his grip around your waist tightened because of his anticipation.
After your hand stumbled from the pillow, you hooked one of his thumbs and forced his hand out of you. "Kyun, it hurts" you panted. The pout on his lips can be spotted in his voice. "Sorry, that wasn't my intention but... I'm in pain too"
You turned to face him the fastest you could, placing your face pretty close to his. Your eyes could not stay open while he admired your face with lust. "Tell me where it hurts?" you asked, starting to get concerned.
"Angel, it's my cock. I mean, I'm so hard" he confessed shamelessly.
➹Yuto (U):
You and he are so in tune that you often wake up both in a mood.
Your breathing was stable near his ear, so Yuto tried not to move. You hugged him as if he was a Teddy bear and your hand settled relaxed on his abdomen. He could not stop daydreaming about you stroking his member as the sunlight gifted your lazy bodies.
Once you woke up and found out he was killing time by playing with your fingers, you caressed his torso upwards, feeling every inch of him. "Gotta get up now, babe?" you asked.
"I don't have anything to do, plus wanna stay with you longer" he replied, letting you continue to palm him, though his touch slightly guided your massage down his shorts. With your delicate hand, you slid his waistband down and clutched his half-hard shaft.
#onf scenarios#onf smut#onf imagines#hyojin smut#hyojin scenario#j-us smut#j-us scenario#e-tion scenario#e-tion smut#wyatt scenario#wyatt smut#mk scenario#mk smut#u scenario#u smut#onf
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The ending's echo
Galahad wakes up.
It is dawn when the Pure Knight wakes.
Morning light filters in through arched windows as Galahad rouses from his slumber, trying to gather his bearings. Fingers brush against the fabric of the mattress he found himself sitting up in, the unfamiliarity of it sending a chill of confusion down his spine. He looks around, finding himself in a hall not unlike the ones in his King’s palace. That shouldn’t be, Galahad thinks as he calmly gets to his feet, feeling cool stone against the flat of his feet as he walks to the window. The last he remembers is having laid down and drinking from the holy grail before closing his eyes. He shouldn’t be awake at all, so why—
His thoughts are shattered by a ten-foot wave of pain crashing against the inside of his skull.
It is rare for Galahad to wake with headaches that threaten to make him crumble to his knees, he notes in between the jackhammer thumps of pain throbbing in his temples. He lets out a quiet breath as the tide recedes, left with only visions. Terrible, cruel visions of a Camelot burning down, torn apart by the flames of rebellion. He sees the lord he serves felled by a fellow knight, a vicious snarl of pure malice stretched across the knight’s face before his hand falls limp, impaled by the King’s lance. He hurries over to the windows of the hall when he sees the army his father leads painted in his mind, peering through the glass as the image of his King being sent over a lake follows soon after it. He is greeted with a peaceful Camelot, the morning birds singing a sweet song for the start of the day. No fires. No bloodshed. So why did it feel so real—
“—It is real, Sir Galahad.” A voice sounding like many voices says softly, different tones overlapping with one another and yet seeming wholly one to his ears. “You woke up.”
Galahad stills, searching for the source of the voice. He finds not one person else in the hall.
Galahad glances down at the ground. "I was.”
“I was beginning to think you wouldn't," the voices whispers into his ear, like the cool breeze of an autumn day. "You were ready to die."
That is what he was supposed to be, wasn't he?
Dead. Taking a sip from the Holy Grail should have killed him immediately. He should have served his greatest purpose and yet here he is, stuck in his state of bewilderment. Perhaps this was what heaven was supposed to be? The voices hum lightly, reverberating through his very core. He thinks of the voices as what he imagines true angels would be like, overbearing and all-encompassing.
"That is not where you are. That is not what I am.”
“Then what are you?” Galahad questions.
“I would think that you would know.” The voices say, almost mockingly. “You drank from me, after all.”
“The Grail?” Galahad shakes his head. “That does not seem possible.”
“Many things seem impossible, Sir Galahad.” The Grail says. “Look at yourself. This is quite an impossible predicament.”
Galahad glances at the glass of the window pane, cerulean eyes widening at the sight of his reflection. Distantly, he knows his body felt foreign to him but this was something he could never imagine. His frame was smaller, far less bulky than he remembers it being. His hair was longer, fair locks worn in a style he remembers from his younger years. His face was rounder, having not grown out of some baby fat just yet. He blinked at his reflection and yet the image of his younger self continued to remain.
He was 18 years of age somehow.
“Is this some sort of trick?” He asks aloud.
“No trick. Just a purpose. Just a duty.” The Grail sings. “You were always destined for duty, Sir Galahad.”
“But I completed my duty. I was meant to—”
“—ascend?” The Grail hums. “Ascend… But how, Sir Galahad? You have not done enough. Yes, not enough to ascend.”
Galahad looks down at his palms.
"I don't understand."
“You need to save them.”
“Save who?”
“Camelot. Save them from their fate. Only then, can you leave.”
Galahad pauses. “Those visions… Were they true then?”
“They were. What a terrible fate for dear Camelot. But you can stop it, can't you? Do you accept this duty?”
Galahad feels the saliva pool in his mouth. It would be selfish to refuse, wouldn’t it? To say no and to leave Camelot to its fate. Galahad is the Pure Knight and a man of God. He cannot be selfish. The choice he must make is only logical then.
“I will complete this duty you have given me. Only then, will I know peace.”
#arthurian regression au#Chronos Knights#galahad#Chapter: main#arthurian legend#arthuriana#Rubbing my hands together you're going to see just how insane I can get
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Just the Two of Us (8) | Kim Taehyung
In which two ambiverts who are conscientious, resourceful, firm, and slightly egoistic happen to realise, discover, and explore the possibility of being in love. It’s a dream-like almost magical romance focusing on what I love to call “the butterfly inducing effect”. So, get comfy, grab a tub of ice cream, maybe get a few tissues and be prepared to experience romance like no other and fall in love.
I fell in love with you,
I don’t know why,
I don’t know how,
I just did.
Tags/Warnings :- An Office Au, Ceo!Taehyung, Secretary!Y/N A fairytale at an office. Cheesy. Highly Romantic. TaehyungxReader.
Written by Author L
Cross posted on Wattpad
Word count :- 3k Words
Previous | Index | Next
“”“”“
Sticky Note
The often unheard and silenced buzzes of Y/N’s most detested possession echoed through her bedroom loudly and not to mention proudly this morning. However, to the alarm’s dismay, it wasn’t its constant blaring that woke Y/N up.
A pounding headache, an annoying sore throat and perpetual sneezes which refused to die down, forced Y/N to get out of bed. With great difficulty, she somehow managed to make her way to the restroom. She blows her nose, washes her face with some warm water and looks at her reflection on the mirror. Her nose was red, eyes sunken, and her pale face was slightly swollen. She walks back to her bed contemplating if she should call in for a sick day.
“Okay I feel like shit right now.”
“Should I really go to work?” She asks herself while running a hand through her hair.
“What if I get nauseous at work?”
“I might faint.”
“I have a splitting headache. Which means my mind will be foggy and unclear. I might end up doing something ridiculous.”
“However…” She begins as an unreasonable thought of something, or rather someone crosses her mind.
“…there’s quite a lot of unfinished, pending work that I cannot risk missing.”
“There’s also Mr Kim…” She says as her lips curl up the slightest bit and a glint in her eyes appears and vanishes as quickly as her dilemma.
“I…” She says in deep thought.
“…am going to work.” She finishes with a silly little smile across her face.
She went through careful consideration and rational thinking, only to choose a side that would later, disappoint her physical and mental state of well-being thoroughly. She reassured herself that she was going to work just for work. Or was she?
***
“Achoo!” Y/N sneezes for what may be the four millionth time that day. Her sneezes reverberate through the entire meeting room as the people in it gave her either concerned or uncomfortable looks. After muttering multiple excuse me-ies and sorry-ies, she thanks God for being capable of producing the most ungraceful and unignorably loud sneezes which had the potential to erupt volcanoes or create earthquakes.
A short while later, the meeting finally ends, and Y/N finds herself exiting the meeting room at the speed of light. She heads towards the restroom making sure she doesn’t make eye contact with anybody so that she doesn’t end up engaging herself in an unnecessary, oddly timed small talk while trying to suppress an obnoxious cough.
She successfully reaches the restroom, grabs fifteen tissues or so and blows out her nose. She pops a cough drop into her mouth before resting her palms on the sink’s counter and raises her head to look at herself in the mirror. She sighs and shakes her head.
‘I shouldn’t have come today.’
Aaand here we go, the infamous look of regret. If someone took a shot every time Y/N regretted coming to work today, they’d be knocked out by the end of it.
She leaves the restroom and reaches Taehyung’s office within no time. She was supposed to fax some documents which had his signatures. To her surprise and relief he wasn’t inside the office. She thought this was better because he wouldn’t have to see her in such a pathetic state. Although she knew it was unrealistic of her to expect that, since he's her boss and they see each other more often than an actual couple.
She finds the files on the coffee table and walks towards them. And as it was bound to happen, another sneeze makes its grand debut and Y/N stops to cover her nose. From the corner of her eye, she notices a hand extending out from behind her, holding a kerchief that was neatly ironed and folded.
“You alright there?” Taehyung asks and Y/N suddenly gets a tiny bit self-conscious.
She turns around, takes the kerchief, and thanks Taehyung. She wipes her nose with the light blue cotton cloth and wonders if her nose looked red or if her eyes looked drowsy.
‘I’m pretty sure there’s booger on my nose or something.’
Not enjoying the fact that Taehyung can see this vulnerable side of her, she grabs the files from the coffee table and turns towards the door.
“I only came to take these files sir. I have to fax them.” She announces in the air and starts walking.
“Wait.”
Taehyung rushes toward Y/N and stands before her.
“You didn’t answer my question yet. Are you alright?”
Y/N’s cheeks turn a light shade of red.
“Uh yes sir, I’m alright.” She assures him with a smile and a nod.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything. In fact, a small frown appears on his face. He stares at her for a few moments, observing her face.
‘There’s definitely booger on my nose, isn’t there?’
Without a disclaimer he brings his hand up and rests the back of his palm on Y/N’s forehead to check for temperature.
The colour on Y/N’s cheeks deepens as she processes what just happened. Her eyes widen slightly, and her pupils dilate. She was glad they were inside his office and the blinds on the large glass panes were closed because oh boy, if someone saw this, the hot topic for the employees’ next gossip session would undoubtedly be her.
“Oh God you’re burning up!” Taehyung exclaims in shock as he moves his hand away from her face.
“Uh- well, I feel okay sir, don’t worry.”
“What do you mean okay? Y/N you have a high fever. Why did you come to work?”
“I…” Y/N clears her throat and continues. “…took some medication in the morning sir, I’m alright now.”
Truth to be told, she was not alright. Her state was the same as before, if not it was worse. A train of thought occupied entirely with regret, stops by at her platform of peace. Disappointed with her poor choice of actions and unrealistic expectations of avoiding her boss at work, Y/N curses herself silently.
“I’m totally okay sir!” Y/N says in pretentious cheer as she lifts her hand to form a thumbs up. She swiftly exits the room before Taehyung could say a word.
***
“Why don’t we take a small break?”
Completely bothered by Y/N’s incessant sneezes, Taehyung abruptly suggests a break during the course of a meeting. He looks at Y/N who sat beside him with concern, as the employees who were scattered around the room, left one by one to have something at the cafeteria.
He gets up from his chair and walks out towards a small kitchen counter where he finds a kettle and fills it with water. After some time, he pours it into a glass, walks back to the conference room and places it on the table for Y/N.
Taehyung had eventually come to terms with the idea of deceiving Y/N, because unfortunately marriage was the only thing stopping him from living his life as the CEO of Kim Enterprises. Taehyung tried his best to be the ‘ideal dating material’ as coined by Jin and hence decided to execute any and every sweet gesture that may seem appealing to Y/N. Whether or not it was working, he had know clue.
However, the smile that appears on Y/N’s face after she noticed the glass of water might actually mean that it's working.
Pre-occupied by her sickness which had impeccable timing, she hastily mutters a 'thank you’ before, you guessed it, sneezing a few more times and sipping on the hot water.
As the water flows down her throat, she feels her sinuses clear, leaving her with a not-so-runny nose. The hot water melts the irritation in her throat away and momentarily brings her a great sense of comfort. Something which seemed impossible to attain today.
“Y/N you should take a half day.”
Y/N looks at Taehyung with a frown. When he says nothing else, she realises that he’s talking about her sickness.
“Oh sir, it’s totally alright! I’m fine.” She says with a convincing smile and dismisses his offer with a wave of her hand.
Taehyung says nothing and stares back at her.
“Besides there’s so much I have to get done. I have to go to S. A. Marketing and schedule your interview appointments, there's a training meeting later in the day, I have to proofread Minho’s correspondence and figure out Ms Rachel’s deadlines and plan accordingly for the next quarter. Oh! You also have another meeting, with Legal Corp Solutions, meaning I have to draft four reports by the end of the day.” Y/N reasoned nervously.
Taehyung closes his eyes and sighs.
“Y/N, I want you to do something more important for me. This is absolutely necessary and should be your utmost priority.”
Y/N knew what he was going to say next.
‘Go back home and rest.’
Yep, he would definitely say that. Because why wouldn’t he? A typical boss in every rom-com, who displays incongruent affection and care towards his secretary whom he barely knows. She obviously expected Taehyung to say some cliché sentences out of concern after startling her by checking her temperature earlier. She watched way too many K-dramas to predict what would happen next.
“I want you… to organise all the books and documents in my office in alphabetical order, category- wise making sure to re-arrange the files of all international deals separately, by placing them in boxes. Catalog all information from the past year and there's also a book on my desk, which I would like you to read, after which you must provide me with a detailed review of the book consisting of appropriate criticism and judgement.” He pauses to take a deep breath.
“I suggest you use my office for the entire day. Begin with the book.” He finishes with a small sly smile that Y/N failed to notice, for she was utterly nonplussed by the list of things Taehyung asked her to do.
Taehyung knew he wouldn't be able to send Y/N home. She was often adamant on her stand. However, Taehyung wasn’t going to back down just like that. He couldn’t let her do all that jazz she mentioned earlier. Which is why he assigned minimal and not to mention, useless work to keep her occupied. That way her condition wouldn't get worse than it already was. It would be boring, yes, but not as tiring. She only has to sit in his office and ‘work’. He knew it would take her all day to just finish the book.
Y/N thinks it’s some kind of a joke in the beginning and stares at Taehyung hoping that he might laugh and say “Don’t worry! I'm kidding.” However, Taehyung stares back at her with a ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ look, after which she nods awkwardly and leaves the meeting room.
***
Y/N sits in a rubble of mess desperately trying to figure out how she would ‘catalog all the information’ from the past YEAR. She didn’t even know what kind of information she has to gather!
‘Should’ve taken a day off.’
She gave up on the book after reading four pages of it. In her dizzy and groggy state of mind she struggled just to read the introduction, let alone write a detailed review.
Channelling her inner Marie Kondo, she began segregating all the reports based on valuation, sales, investments, and finance. She works on this for a few hours making sure to carefully showcase her perfectionism despite her debilitating cold. Because that's just who she was. The kind of person to prioritize work over her deteriorating health.
Y/N flinches in fear at the sound of something other than the occasional shuffling of papers and thuds of boxes. And not to forget, her earth-shattering sneezes. She realises that the sound came from the door being unlocked and notices Taehyung walking into the office room with an IPad in his hand.
Taehyung finds her on the floor of his office, near the shelves, with papers, files, binders and what not littered on the floor. At the centre of it all, sat Y/N looking more dishevelled than ever. He mentally facepalms himself at the sight of her working tirelessly on the most useless job in the world. He expected her to get tired after arranging a few boxes and fall asleep or maybe just give up and rest. However, Y/N was oblivious to Taehyung’s foolproof plan and was determined on being the most productive person at work today.
“Oh well, hello sir.” Y/N says as she smiles with a hint of pride.
“I’m almost done…” She begins as she stands up.
“…just have to discard a few-“
“Fantastic! Job well done.” Taehyung says quickly with a meaningless smile and places his hands on his hips.
“You can go back to your desk Y/N.” He nods and gestures towards the door.
“I haven’t read the book yet sir and-“
“Aw that’s unfortunate. How about this? You can take the book, finish it today and return it tomorrow? Yes, that sounds perfect!” He finishes in one breath, grabs the book from his table hastily and urges Y/N to take it.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you, sir.” Y/N’s face falls flat. As she walks out of the room towards her desk, all she could feel was…disappointment. What was she expecting? A bone-crushing hug from her boss for cleaning his entire office for absolutely no purpose? She couldn't help but wonder why Taehyung rushed her out of his office. Or why he was so distant since the moment he heard her sneeze.
'No, he's not like that.’
The instant she finds her desk, she drops the book on it, plops herself into a chair and sighs in pain and relief. She stretches her arms out, leans back on her chair, and closes her eyes, before opening them again to look at something that caught her eye. She leans toward the desk as her forehead scrunches up in confusion. On her white wood desk, was a large coffee cup, filled to the brim with piping hot coffee. And the on the coffee cup was a bright yellow sticky note upon which a message was lettered in a familiar, pretty handwriting.
She picks up the cup to examine it closely.
Drink the coffee when it’s hot. Would help with the cold.
There are meds in the brown bag. Get some rest for now.
I’ll drop you home tonight.
Y/N’s face goes pale. And it was definitely not because of the high fever. She reads it again to make sure she read it right. A red hue appears on her face as quickly as it had faded earlier once she recognises the handwriting. Realisation dawns upon her and she understands why Taehyung rushed her to her desk. She scans the note multiple times while a grin finds its way to her face. For the first time, she didn't regret coming to work that day. She glances at the brown bag near the keyboard and takes a sip of the coffee. The hot liquid glides through her throat as she closes her eyes, sinks in her seat and groans in relief. Wanting to feel the warmth of the coffee more, she drinks the whole thing at once. Almost like a toddler who drinks milk quickly to beat their sibling at a silly little competition. She removes the sticky note from the cup and stares at it for a while, before placing it safely inside her drawer. All with a cheeky grin on her face.
She rests both her arms on the desk and lays her head on them. She thinks of how weirdly cute today was. She knew why Taehyung gave her absurd and silly tasks to keep her ‘busy’. Y/N put up with it and played along because she knew Taehyung was right. She should've taken some rest. A smile forms on her face again, when she thinks of how considerate he had suddenly become. Was it only with her? She likes to think it was. The smile only grows wider when she thinks about the sticky note. She never thought a small piece of paper with some scribbles from her boss would make her so giddy. She didn't even know if she's supposed to react that way.
Amidst contemplation, tiredness gets the best of her, and her eyes begin to feel heavier, giving in to the comforting idea of sleep. Even the substantial amount of caffeine she had a few minutes ago, doesn’t prevent her from falling into a deep slumber.
***
The warm sunlit sky starts blending into the darkness of the night. Resting against the railings of a river stood a tall man with a charming smile. The sapphire blue eyes gazed at Y/N as he extended his hand out for her to hold. She takes a step closer and places her palm in his before smiling shyly.
“Y/N.” He says in a smooth, calming tone and Y/N looks at him with anticipation.
“Wake up.”
She frowns and the man’s silhouette starts to fade. She struggles to focus on his blurring face as another, familiar person’s face sharpens. Y/N stirs in her sleep and squints her eyes to find her boss calling out her name trying to wake her up.
“Y/N, wake up.”
Upon realisation she gasps and sits up instantly.
“Good evening, sir.” She blurts out.
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“It’s way beyond evening Y/N. In fact, it’s almost ten o’clock. Come on, let me drop you home.” He says and walks towards the exit.
“Oh” Is all she manages to say as her mind tries to process all the sleep, sickness, embarrassment, and annoyance. The annoyance was due to the fact that she was almost about to have her swoon worthy romance with Brad fricking Pitt until she was woken up.
“Ugh, the onetime Brad Pitt decides to show up in my dream.” She whisper-yells in frustration while grabbing her bag and following Taehyung out of the office.
The car ride was, unsurprisingly quiet. Y/N’s unremitting sneezes finally gave up, thanks to the three-hour nap and Brad Pitt’s charming blue eyes. Both of them sat in silence and thought of how the other’s day must have gone. They barely got to see each other today.
Taehyung was relieved to see Y/N finally taking a nap after his desperate attempts to get her to rest.
Y/N was confused, to say the least. Perhaps the foggiest her mind had ever felt. Totally unprofessional and uncool was the way she’d put it. It was not the way she wanted to present herself around Taehyung.
‘NEVER go to work when sick.’ She told herself.
However, the sticky note was pleasantly surprising. The thought of the note formed a smile on her face which went unnoticed by Taehyung. Before her mind wandered off to her ‘maybe' theory, Taehyung announces abruptly.
“We’re here.”
“Oh, good night, sir.” She says and closes the door to his car.
Taehyung watches her as she crosses the road and walks into her apartment. He starts the engine, but before he drives away, something on the dashboard catches his eye.
Thank you for the coffee and medicine, sir:)
A small sentence was inscribed on a pastel pink sticky note in Y/N’s neat handwriting. A smile makes its way up to Taehyung’s face as he finds himself saving the note in his pocket before driving off in a jolly spirit.
#bts ff#bts imagines#bts fanfic#taehyung ff#v ff#btsv ff#taehyung fanfic#angst#fluff#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#bts drabble#bts#taehyung x reader#jungkook ff#jungkook imagines#jungkook oneshot
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On your latest chasm thoughts about finding FL in a room filled with mud. Just brainrot continuation with you! Uh oh. It ended up too long, I'm sorry!
***
I could imagine him just being relieved because finally someone found him and also he would be pleasantly surprised and happy that it's you. As you reach out to swipe and clean the mud off his wings with such gentle movements, constantly assuring him that things will be okay, he just begins to melt. You take him to the part of the chasm with the least monsters - the part that looks like a tree from Sumeru (where we got that big chest after triggering several totems). He plops down on the grass, back against the tree trunk. A worried trill comes out of him as he notices the bandages around your arm. You began to unwrap the bandages to reveal slashes you've sustained while battling enemies while purging the mud on your way down deep into the Chasm. He growls softly while touching your hand with gentle, sharp talons. He would kill whoever or whatever did this to you, as soon as he gets his strength back.
"I'm fine. We'll be fine," you said.
Then you walked up to the water surrounding the area, cleaning the wound. You also fussed over him to see if he has injuries and proceeded to clean them. At times like this, your vision comes in handly. Frost swirls around the two of you - healing and closing injuries, reminiscent of his cold homeland. His eyes widen in wonder. He didn't know that you had a vision from his days in Liyue. You must have gotten it after he disappeared.
For the next few days and nights, you take care of him and he does the same. Although he would love to just drift off to sleep next to you, he would keep watch at night. Clawed hands stroking your hair as you sleep as his eyes examined every possible entry point to where you were staying. You caught him one time as you woke up from a dream, only to feel a soft stroke on your head. The Abyss Monster that you've found was undeniably gentle. You reach on top of you head to hold his hand, carefully so as not to lose your fingers. A surprised yelp emerged from him. He faces away from you, hiding his face with his other hand as he tried to desperately stay still. He was embarrassed to be caught. What would you think of him? He wasn't even human at this point. He was terrifying, alien, a predator-
His dark line of thought breaks as you leaned your head on him, snuggling into his warmth. Now he noticed how you tucked your feet into the blanket you've brought with you. As you snuggle close to him, trusting him without a doubt, he melts into a happy puddle inside. He wraps an arm around you and drapes one of his galaxy wings so that you are covered and protected. A purr reverberates in his chest as he tucks you closer. You don't know yet that he has retained some of his speech and he hates to admit that it was because he kept running into those heralds and lectors. His broken speech would suffice for now.
"Thank you, Y/N."
Your eyes snapped open at the voice, although monstrous, it held a warmth.
"You can talk? You understand me? Also - how do you know my name? I haven't mentioned it." you ask hurriedly.
He nods simply, unable to vocalize all the words for you. He desperately wanted to tell you who he was. He hopes that you wouldn't leave.
You were sitting up now, eyes shining in curiosity. "Please, tell me your name."
He fumbles with something on his armor. He pulls out a red scarf - it was wrinkled and rolled - a symbol that would stand out in a crowd, especially in Liyue.
He lets out a small sad sound, looking at you with a lonely single eye. He shakes his head and takes your hand, only to drop something on it.
Confused, you unfurl the red object. It stretches out into a scarf with sharp, pointed metal bits on the end. Your eyes widened. You used to see this scarf every morning as you walk through Liyue Harbor, on your way to the academy. It used to dangle in front of you as the 11th Harbinger discussed with his underlings or his clients. He never talked to you though, although he had somehow become a part of your morning routine. Always showing up or walking at the same time. Never with you, just near enough so you could admire him.
From your studies and the Abyssal creatures you encountered, you had an inkling that they were cursed.
Childe let out a low whine.
You came back to him, hands reaching out to clasp his hands. Oh archons, you would do anything if it meant getting him safe, if it meant getting the chance to tell him after all this time.
"Childe?"
He answers with soft, distorted, "Yes."
Your trembling hand settled on where his cheek would be, the smooth contour of his mask. It hurt you to see how far from human he was. It hurt to imagine how he must have suffered. His soft trill at your touch warms your heart.
"Let's go home," you say. An invite.
His chest burns in a good way at the words. You accepted him, his truth and darkness. You were as bright as the sun, lighting up the shadows that he lived in.
He holds your hand on his cheek. The tips of his claws stroking your skin as gently as possible. He nodded enthusiastically.
You two set out to escape the Chasm not through the main entrance/exit. People would panic at the sight of Childe. Thankfully, you've found an old hatch that led to the surface. Unfortunately, a Shadowy Husk blocked your path. You didn't even have time to react before Childe dealt with the problem. A polearm crackling with electro manifested in his hand. He moved fluidly, each second landing a hit on the enemy. When he was done, he covered the enemy with his body, so you wouldn't have to see the mess. The polearm dissipated at his command.
He through the hatch first, checking if the coast was clear, before assisting you as you exited.
Cool, pure air came into Childe's lungs for the first time in months. His archon probably despised him now for leaving his post for too long. But heavens, there must be a higher power at work because he was freed from the mud and found you. You were clutching his hand, warmth seeping through your fingers. You looked up at him with a sweet smile and began to walk towards home.
He doesn't deserve this, he thought. But he decided that he would try his best to keep you safe and happy and, to protect that smile. It was a promise. He never ever breaks his promises.
MY DEAR NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SOMETHING BEING LONG!!! I LOVE RECEIVING LONG BRAINROTS AND THIS MADE MY DAY <333 (referencing this post)
you're quick to set out in the direction of your home, but it's quite far due to being in the outskirts of the Harbor- luckily the side passage you found out of the Chasm was unmonitored, so your comings and goings would go unnoticed. you take deep breaths as you walk, stretching your arms and inhaling clean air for the first time in what felt like ages, although you suppose it had been ages thanks to that revolting mud that coated the Chasm's ground and walls. Childe's doing much the same, almost running across the fields and turning his masked face up to relish the sunlight.
you'd be lying if you said that you had felt no effects while adventuring down in that pit- you were simply good at hiding your coughs and fatigue. but now, under the gentle eye of the sun and whoever might be the new Geo Archon, you feel your legs give out and send you sprawling into the soft grass. the texture makes you smile and laugh, then cough as the impact becomes too much for your lungs. Childe yelps your name in alarm, hastily crouching beside you to see if you're alright. his eye shines with worry every time you cough, but he relaxes ever-so-slightly when he sees that you're still smiling.
"I'm alright, really. Just side effects."
he nods, posture loosening but concern still etched on his face. so with a single swift motion, he scoops you into his arms, easily cradling your considerably smaller form against his chest. it makes you smile even more, and you lean your head on his shoulder, tracing the grooves and dips in his armor. there's not a trace of that nasty mud left anywhere, you notice with not a small sense of pride and satisfaction. Childe talks, as best he can, as he walks, his voice familiar and soft to you even if it's more growly and guttural. he doesn't speak of the Chasm- he'd rather forget either of you ever being in pain- but instead he tells you about the first day he saw you, and how curious he was, mostly due to the peculiar feeling that washed over him whenever he looked at you. that's why he started straying near you in the morning, to observe you longer and figure out the emotion he was feeling. and it wasn't till he'd been keeping up the routine for over a month that he realized what it was.
caution- but not for himself, for you. he wanted to protect you, keep you safe from harm and hold you in his arms forever.
it warms your heart to hear him confess such things, voice always dropping to a mumble as he hides his face behind his claws. you laugh kindly, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he stumbles over his limited words, half due to embarrassment, half due to the rumbling purrs emitting from his chest. shifting yourself up, you wrap your arms around his neck and hum contently as Childe walks towards your home, and you ignore the dull, constant pain lacing itself through your lungs and injured arm.
you can deal with those later. it'll be fine, right?
#genshin impact#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#foul legacy#foul legacy childe#childe#tartaglia#genshin tartagalia#chit chat#darling mutuals#I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OHH MY GOD#YOU'RE AN AMAZING WRITER MY DEAR!!!!#and please never apologize for anything being 'too long'#i love to read EVERYTHING you send me!!!#i am always STARVED FOR MOTH CONTENT!!!!!#short scenario#other's stuff#FAVE
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The Real Knights Of The Round Table 3
Part 1
The experiment is a rousing success father then my dreams could have imagine all four literal titans are now in my laboratory locked up right in my cryogenic sleeping pods for the long term.
Today I woke up extra anxious feeling a pure unadulterated desire to begin me conquests of the world except I feel some trepidation on my part due to the news of hero’s sent ok rescue missions.
I need this to cool off for a bit even the best laid plans need to be reconfigured at times this being one of them and I take my cue to get our of bed.
Grabbing my towel I go head first into the morning routine a hour later I emerge back in to my world refresh and completely under my control.
I walk in front of my stomp my feet twice as the mirror slides to the side revealing a shaft hidden behind the wall and I enter the cart as the elevator descends.
Speeding down the elevator shaft all I could think of those sweet asses under my control in the lab and I can’t use them like the bitch puppets they are.
The door swings open to my laboratory in a slow fashion my eyes land on a file of my old plans and one in particular to blow the world out.
I pick up the blue print scanning it over I find the missing piece to it’s unfurling onto the unsuspecting world simply it calls for their dna.
“Computer take a tissue sample of all four of our guests please.” I think to myself.
“Curating samples in order now and process of the serum is within completion.” It replies
“Soon they will see things in a whole new light and no one can stop me.”
“Time shift into temporal displacement at the next half hour.”
“Which local?”
“Lawrence island my dear”
“Alert, alert…”
“What? Video feed”
“Oh Great! The last thing I need is to see these two oafs.
Part 2
Despite the delay my four pods lower into the ships basement chambers below the earth and begin to be injecting with my serum compound.
Only time will be my enemy in this as they need to feel the fool extent of the serum seep in and of course take its course in re-educating them.
My eyes return to my new nemesis crawling through the internal air system shafts it is quite disconcerting to think the length that hero’s go through to save the day.
“I really am not into the whole pretend they are not here and drop on them when they least expect it.”
“Commence the Hypno gas loop into the air ventilation system immediately.”
“That will more than calm them down for a bit.”
Inside the air vents they continue crawling till they see us in the end of vents but before they can regroup the gas fills up.
I can hear them coughing, struggling to try an escape plan and fall unconscious Bonds leg slides down kicking the vent door open.
I laugh so hard my voice reverberating in joy at this small bit crucial victory who knew the US could snoop so low as to hire a Brit to kill me.
“Escort our guests to the second chamber my dear, leave their carcasses naked on the floor and open the container.”
“The four soldier should have awoke by now.
Don’t you think? Release them”
“Mwahahahahaha”
Part 3
It is unfortunately my fault all this occurs yet I could care less of the consequences of it all. Entering the main hall four lifeless husk come to life once more. Captain America is the first to full become aware of his new reality.
“I think I woke up from a nightmare about a war and I was ugh!”
“A hero”
“Don’t ever say that boss”
“Why not?”
“Is that not what all of you are?”
“I shutter the thought at that “
“I am no hero, I am a villain and always will be.”
“Rise to your feet and take your place.”
“Yes Boss”
“That door has a few new recruits help them see the error of their ways.”
“With pleasure…Mwahahahahaha”
Part 4
Nightwing rolls onto his back in a deep sigh and heavy breath he notices me a smile on his face spreads wide.
“You seem bright eyes and bushy tailed”
“I hate that saying “
“Oh really?”
“Brings up images of rabbits and rainbows”
“The thought alone makes me want to puke”
“Why can’t good see it our way?”
“It’s impossible for them”
“They never compromise or surrender “
“Good always sees itself as moral “
“We are unjust and perverse”
“Fools all of them”
Part 5
“Nightwing and Captain America “
“We are saved”
“Who are they? We are here to train you “
“The names are Nightbitch”
“American Pussy”
“What happen to you? You were hero’s “
“We have seen the light”
“Evil so freeing and he enlightens us every day.”
“They say knowledge is power but true power comes from Master Lawrence “
Captain Pussy eyes glint as he leaps into the air like a Russian gymnast tackling James Bond to the floor and injects him with my serum.
Nightbitch uses the syringe like a dart hits him Reached dead center on his neck he collapses into my control. The room closes in on chairs swoop into view placing them on it and a video plays with hypnotic tones subliminal in the background.
The end
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A Cat & Glasses (An EraserMic One Shot)
((Aizawa isn't a UA teacher yet. Mic is a teacher and on his own. but the two have some unspoken thing going on. IDK I was doing dishes and had a scene pop into my head and then I had work to do that I didn't want to do so instead of doing it I wrote this! ENJOY!!))
--
Shota wakes up to the sound of meowing that's growing increasingly urgent. It had been a long night and he had no intention of waking up at 8 o clock on the dot. However, that's exactly what the red numbers on the clock read in his still-dark room. Luckily he kept his room- or rather the whole apartment in a minimalistic style. Meaning, aside from the meowing cat's toys strung about here and there sometimes, he knew precisely where everything of his was because he had very little to own in the first place.
He got up from his futon keeping the blankets turned down letting the bed await his return. Walking across the floor with his eyes closed he made it to the cat's food cabinet and took up a can of her food. But something wasn't right. He dragged his heavy eyelids open to look down by his feet and then around the rest of the floor. Sushi, his little orange cat hadn't been begging at his ankles like she usually did when she woke him up for breakfast. Instead, she was waiting at the front door. He called her name while tapping on the can. She kept her spot at the door and just looked back at him.
Shota decided to be as persistent as her silent request to go outside. He found her treats, in her favorite chicken and liver flavor with the crunchy outside and soft insides. He looked at her waiting for her reaction as he gave the box a shake. Sushi's tail flicked side to side and her eyes widened while one of her ears twitched to acknowledge the sound of her treats letting out a loud 'meow!' but she insisted there was business at the door. He let out a sigh placing the treats back. Nothing was out there, he was sure of it. She's just being weird and he'd rather be back asleep. But as he walked away her urgent meows wouldn't stop. Fine, he'll check it out! He spun on his heels stomping up to the door and gently moved the cat away as he cracked it open just enough to squint in the morning's sunrise. Aside from the stinging sunlight, there was nothing outside that should have the cat so upset.
"There's nothing out here." He assured her. But before he could close the door she hopped over his foot he used to attempt to keep her from escaping and darted down the two flights of stairs of the apartment. "Sushi!? Hey! HEY SUSHI! Nooo!!" Shota tried not to yell at the cat running down the sidewalk now and away from him, not wanting to attract any attention from his neighbors. He smacked the door closed behind him as he ran out after his cat. Just what had gotten into her this morning!? The only outside she seemed to enjoy was the small outside balcony to the apartment. The fact he was barefoot and in his light pink boxers and black tanktop as he ran down the sidewalk hadn't crossed his mind while his crazy orange cat flew across the street and made a getaway while climbing up a tree.
--
The shower knobs made a squeak as the water turned off a voice reverberating through the acoustics of the bathroom. Hizashai had been awake since midnight. His late-night radio hosting kept him awake from the crack of dawn till just after his lessons at UA. Luckily he could get to his teaching job a little after 10 in the morning. In the meantime, he made sure he'd look fresh and his best for the day! He twisted a purple towel over his long golden wet hair and another towel to dry the rest of himself off. He'd just wiggled on his underwear when he heard a meow coming from a window in his bedroom. Hizashi's large green eyes drifted up to see a familiar orange cat peeking at the glass. A smile slid across his face as he walked across the floor and popped open the window to let the cat in.
"Hey Sushi, long time no see." He pet down her back as she arched to his touch. "How's Sho? Taking care of him for me?" She purred licking the water he missed from his ankles before rubbing herself against him. "Wait, how in the world did you get your funky little but over here?" He asked as she began to leap onto his dresser. "You'll get cat hair on my stuff you orange furball. Where's your daddy?" Hizashi followed her to make sure she wouldn't knock over his expensive decorations. She looked back at him, her pale daisy-colored eyes had a mischievous glint and it seemed her whiskers indicated a smile. He squinted his eyes at her watching closely, "What do you think you're doing?" Her answer came as a trill from her throat before she found his red-framed glasses; the ones he wore when out of uniform, and darted back for the window escaping outside.
"Huh!?" He tried grabbing for her as she escaped but she'd just lept out of his reach. "Sushi! Give those back! You don't even need glasses!" He called to her from the window. "Sushi, drop it!" But she carefully made her way out of the tree and back to the ground. Hizashi let out a frustrated groan while pulling on a fancy black and red robe and his house slippers as he jogged down the stairs and to his front door where he caught the cat almost waiting for him to show. "I don't have time for this!" He told her sternly, "I have work in two hours!" She just twitched her tail and waited. He pouted letting the mustache not yet tamed in place tickle his nose to his protruding lips. He took one step out of the door and her tail began to flick more. One more step and she bound down the sidewalk one more. "Unbelievable." He grumbled tying his robe tightly as he marched down the street, "Robbed! By a cat! Sushi!!! Get back here!! Oh, you just wait till Shota finds out about this!"
----
Shota franticly looked around for the cat. After following her in the trees he'd lost track of the little orange ninja. But he wasn't in unfamiliar territory. His high school friend lived around here. Maybe Hizashi had become more than just a friend after his graduation. He didn't know what exactly they'd become, they never said anything. Things just happened. They were always together, they leaned on each other. Then one of them leaned too close and Shota forgot which of them exactly made the first move but they had lived together for a while. They woke up together and had breakfast and coffee. They went to work and would come home to each other. They slept together and did it all over again the next day. Then as slowly and as carefully but just as suddenly as it happened they were just friends again. Distant support. Idol texting here and there. Hizashi left him in his empty apartment and started his own life. Or that's what Shota assumed. And he was okay with that. Whatever they had didn't turn sour or ugly. And it was a cherished time he looked back on fondly.
Speaking of Hizashi, he thought he heard his voice calling Sushi's name. He looked down from the branch he'd stopped on to survey his surroundings. Sure enough, the orange cat was running in his direction, and Hizashi in a fancy black and red robe with a purple towel still twirled around his head chasing after her. Shota dropped to his feet crunching on some acorns that littered the floor below. His nerves screamed at him something equivalent to stepping on legos. But even off balance and holding back from swearing his pain away he snatched Sushi up. He must have scared her because she answered with a quick "Reeerr!" But he started Hizashi even more. His hair was blown back by his scream. His ears were ringing but it had been nothing detrimental to his actual hearing.
"You scared me!" Hizashi dropped his defensive fists and clutched his chest. "What're you doing dropping out of trees like that?!"
"Following my cat," Shota answered holding Sushi up in his arms that had seemed to accept her capture. "What are you doing out here dressed like-" His eyes looked the tall blonde up and down, "that?" Hizashi looked down at himself and back at Shota in his boxers, barefoot, and in a black tank top.
"Chasing your cat who stole my glasses." He answered. Shota looked down seeing the red frames still clutched in the small jaws of the cat as she purred in his arms.
"Oh." He coaxed her to let go of them and handed them over. "Sorry about that. I don't know what came over her this morning." He watched as Sushi's eyes dilated into big sparkling pools of black when she saw Hizashi get closer to take back his glasses. "I... think she misses you."
"Aw" Hizashi cooed scrubbing the lenses to his glasses before slipping them on his face, "Just the cat misses me huh?"
Shota looked up seeing the chartreuse eyes behind a clear window framed by red wire forgetting just how pretty and rare of a sight that was for anyone. It was once something he saw every day. "What do you mean 'just the cat'?" He narrowed his eyes only to get a smile and shrug from Hizashi brushing it off like he hadn't said a word. He motioned for him to follow him.
"Come on man, you're in your boxers. Let me lend you some clothes and feed you." He began walking back to his house while Shota hesitantly followed after him holding the mischievous cat in his arms. Hizashi's house was spacious. And it had so much... stuff. Mostly music and nostalgic memorabilia, with expensive-looking abstract art on the walls framed by different color LED light strips. Every room looked like a furniture showroom and he noticed soundproofing on the walls. It was so 'him'. Full of color, life, ideas, and personality. He wasn't afraid to have things, and get attached to excess items that had no logical reason to have aside from taking up space. And with the extra soundproofing on the walls, he didn't have to worry about being too loud when he sang random songs while cleaning, cooking, showering, and getting ready for work. Shota began to believe Hizashi left because he was being held back from being his full person while he stayed in a mostly empty, small, apartment with him. They were just too different to be together. At least like they were before.
Sushi chowed down on some canned shredded chicken while Hizashi made a quick breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon for himself and Shota. They talked about their work; Hizashi tried to convince him to be a teacher at UA with Kayama. Shota's late-night hero patrolling was enough to make the rent, sustain his jelly pack diet, and keep Sushi fed. Any extra money he made went into savings and some charity associations. Hizashi sounded like a mother, the way he doted on the kids he taught English to. Shota couldn't imagine himself as a teacher. Or going back to UA. Even though he heard the repeated words 'You're great with kids!' from everyone. One of the last things Shirakumo told him. Returning to UA would just open a barely closed wound, if not poke at a still tender bruise.
"Well, I gotta go!" Hizashi traded the red frames for his yellow shades. His hair was swooped back in one tall spike like a cockatoo bird and his leather jacket zipped up to his chunky directional speaker. "Stay as long as ya want. Food is in the fridge if you get hungry, no scary movies by yourself, and don't answer the door to strangers!" He teased taking up some jingling keys. Shota rolled his eyes as he watched the front door close. Only after Hizashi left did he weight in his chest with all the questions he wanted to ask him. But who knows how that could turn out. Maybe they'd end up fighting, or he'd say something that hurt him. Hizashi seemed happy enough and if he was happy with the way things were there was no reason to change things. He decided it was the least he could do for his friend that stayed with him after everything that happened. He ended up falling asleep on the plush couch in the living room with Sushi curled up and purring on his chest.
The End.
#erasermic#mha eraserhead#shota aizawa#hizashi x shouta#aizawa shouta#hizashi yamada#yamada hizashi#mha fanfic#erasermic fic#erasermic fluff#erasermic oneshot#my hero academia#boku no academia#mha aizawa#one shot#fluff#slow burn#slight angst#An idea i had while doing the dishes#procrastinating from doing actual useful things in my life#mha present mic#anime#mha fandom#short story#the cat did this#fanart
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WIP Wednesday
My second Scooby-Doo reference! The movie is Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island.
Meryl knew the children wouldn’t like Vash leaving them behind when they woke up the next morning, but she wasn’t prepared for how guilty she felt after a lonely night’s sleep when they let their upset out.
Chuck’s ears and antennae drooped along with his frown and slumped shoulders. “But why did Vash leave?”
Milly looked helplessly at Meryl but answered. “He got called out.”
“What does that mean?” Hannah asked bitingly like she was holding in a truly epic scream.
“Demanding a duel,” Milly explained.
“But Vash doesn’t want to fight.” Chuck looked confused. “Why would he go to a fight?”
“To protect people.” Meryl wrapped her arms around herself. Would that be enough for them? Or at least enough for Hannah not to drag her brother into danger?
“Wait, a wrenchhead called Vash out?” Chuck demanded.
“Bluesummers did,” Hannah said. “Vash came while you were napping to check on us and he said Bluesummers called him out.”
“Well, that’s a trap.”
“The five-year-old recognizes that!” Hannah gestured at her brother and took a deep breath. “How can you all fall for something that obvious?”
“It really doesn’t matter if it is a trap,” Milly said. “We’ve seen Mr. Vash dance into a hostage situation and be mistaken as an idiot but kept everyone safe until we figured out who the true bad guys were. He’ll be fine.”
Hannah’s frown deepened. “Really? Meryl-ma’am needs a better poker face then.” She stomped to the hotel door and slammed it shut after her. “This reeks!” Her yell was still reverberating as her stomps went down the stairs.
The tears escaped Meryl’s eyes. “Oh, Meryl.” Milly wrapped her up in a hug. “He’s going to be fine. He’s got survival skills. Made it to a hundred and thirty two years old.”
“Hannah didn’t mean to make you cry, Meryl-ma’am.” Chuck sat down at the table. “She just needs to go stomp off her temper since we don’t have a garage for her to bang around in. She’ll be back.”
“She shouldn’t fuss so about leaving if she’s going to stomp off,” Milly said.
“But she’s not leaving. She didn’t make me come with her. She’ll be back.”
Meryl patted Milly’s back and eased away. “I know he’s going to be fine. I didn’t expect to miss him this much this fast.”
Milly frowned, glanced at Chuck, and then put on her fake brave face. “That’s one of the drawbacks of following your heart, but you should always do that, according to my big big sister.”
Meryl nodded and turned to the window. She didn’t really see the activity taking place on the street below. Milly knew about the biggest reason Meryl didn’t want to lose Vash, but Meryl wasn’t ready to tell the children yet. They were upset now; what if they thought Vash wanted to replace them or something like that?
“Follow your heart?” Chuck repeated. “So you know who to kiss?”
“Not just who you fall in love with,” Milly explained, “but the path you should take into the future.”
“The one Vash says the ticket is blank for?”
“Yes. Your heart knows what the right thing to do is, more often than your head. But its voice is very quiet so you have to listen hard.”
Meryl rested a hand on her stomach. Mr. Krupins had said something similar about paths after the fight was over for the geo-plant. Walk your own path with your head held high. The fact that you are who you are helps the people you love live through you.
Her path was with Vash now; is that why her heart felt like she was abandoning him? He wanted the children safe, even if they didn’t see the need in it, so she was doing what he needed done. But her misgivings clamored inside of her that Vash needed protecting his back more than anything else right now. She heard something pounding down below.
“Somebody’s running up the stairs,” Chuck announced. “Hannah hasn’t had enough time to stomp off her temper yet.”
But it was Hannah who burst through the hotel door. “You never said Bluesummers called Vash out through a corpse!”
“Through a what?” Chuck asked.
Meryl didn’t turn around from the window. “We don’t know how he did that.”
“We also didn’t want to scare you,” Milly said.
“The whole town is talking about it! That pretty much ruins keeping anything top secret.”
“Talking about what?” Chuck asked. “What did Bluesummers do?”
Hannah inhaled deeply. “He made a zombie that walked up to Vash and did the call out trap announcement message.”
“But Dad said zombies aren’t real. After the Scooby-Doo movie with them as the scary not-wrenchheads.”
“New planet, new rules, I guess!”
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I wrote this as an intro to a story I'm writing. It can get explicit in places and it's a five or ten minute read. Any constructive criticism is welcome.
I heard his heavy footsteps slowly approach the faded red door of my small spartan bedroom. His slow heel-to-toe gait made the old hardwood floor creak under his considerable weight. I could tell by his uneven steps that the bastard was drunk. Again.
Thump Thump Creak
It wasn’t a giant leap of faith to assume he’s been drinking. Mom worked nights in Kyiv, and her new boyfriend came home late from the bar just after midnight. It was one in the morning, and judging from his footsteps, he was more drunk than usual. The bastard was bumping into walls.
Thump Thump
He was almost always drunk. I recognized the sound of his uneven footsteps with a single step inside the front door. If his footsteps were quick and sure, I could expect he cut his drinking short that night. Today, he was stumbling, and he arrived later than expected. My internal alarm clock woke me up just after midnight. For a while, I held out hope he finally got tired of me. Locking myself in my bedroom didn’t help to keep him away. My hands shook because I could foresee how tonight would play out. The doorknob rattled.
Then nothing. Silence.
The doorknob rattled again, but this time I heard his slurring voice. His southern accent and slurred speech made my skin crawl. It was deep and menacing. “Sasha,” He mockingly spoke the Russian diminutive of my name Alex, with an extended vowel, and it sounded worse than if he screamed it.
I hate the sound of the Southern American accent. Some people find it charming, but not me. Pulling the blanket over my head, I hid without saying a word. The subtle rattling of the doorknob might as well be an air raid siren alerting me to the pain I would be feeling soon.
I didn’t know what to do. He forces me to do things that hurt and sometimes make me bleed. Covering my ears, I was hoping to block out the sound of the rattling doorknob and the thumping sound of his footsteps. Hammering reverberated through my room as he beat on the thin door with his meaty fist.
“Alex!” he screamed, causing me to jump. Covering my ears did nothing to block the sound of my heart jackhammering in my chest. Maybe if I held my breath long enough, it could end before it started. If I’m not conscious, then I won’t feel it, right? The hammering at the door got louder. He must be beating on it with both fists. A crash was heard, and I thought he had broken through the door. Glass shattered, and I realized he fell against the rear wall, knocking my favorite picture of mom and me to the floor. He started cursing loudly. My mind remembered when we took the picture, when it was just us.
“It doesn’t look scary, mama,” I commented about the lethargic captive bear at the zoo.
My mom snorted in disbelief before gently admonishing me in Ukrainian. “Sashenka, don’t be fooled. Take away this wall, and everyone will run in terror. If you ever meet it in the wild, you wouldn’t think the bear so cute. You would be afraid like everyone else.”
“I’m not afraid, mama. I would protect you.” I bravely stated as I stood at the glass, imagining myself standing between a raging bear and my mother with more than a little trepidation.
My mom scooped me up and kissed my cheek. “That’s because you have the spirit of a bear, Sashenka.”
“Does that make you a bear too, mama?
My mom laughed and spun me around making me laugh too. Finishing with a hug, she looked at me with wet eyes. “Yes, I suppose that makes me a mama bear. Now, what do you think about some ice cream?”
“God damnit! Open this fucking door now, you little bitch!” Victor screamed, and I jumped again. My happy reverie shattered like the glass in the picture frame.
The pitch in his voice had a desperate tone. He slammed against the door, and the lock gave way under his considerable bulk. A warm rush of urine ran down my hips. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know how he was dressed. He was a giant man with a massive gut, always wearing a dirty Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, foul-smelling jeans, and those timberland steel-toe boots. With a quick jerk, he yanked the blanket from on top of me, grabbed my long black hair, and lifted me. I could smell the bourbon strongly on his breath. With his free hand, he pulled his belt free and unbuckled his pants. Panicking, I started swinging my fists, hoping something would make him disappear.
When I landed a punch squarely on his nose, his head snapped back, and blood rimmed his giant nostril. He dropped me, and I scrambled to a distant corner of my tiny room. He was still blocking the way to the door. Touching his nose, he shook his head, surprised that I stunned him. Then, his presence shifted from menacing to deadly. A berserk drunken rage flooded his bloodshot eyes, and just as he moved to charge me, the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked filled the room. Very few sounds have such an immediate psychological effect of dread than a shell being slid into place.
My mom stood there, leaning against the doorframe. Her face and stringy blonde hair were a bloody matted mess. Her nose was visibly broken, one eye swollen shut, and tears streamed down her face. I was horrified at what he’d done to my mother, and I couldn’t hold back the tears. He must have beat her up before coming to my room. That’s why he was late. He started with mom. Despite her tears and injuries, she stood resolutely with his twelve-gauge Mossberg shotgun pressed against her shoulder. The gun shook, but at this close range, it wouldn’t matter.
“Victor! Touch him again, and your head will be blown clean off.” She yelled in Ukrainian. He didn’t speak much Ukrainian, but her tone and posture said it all.
He turned his rage toward my mom. Maybe he was expecting her to back down. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he didn’t make it a single step before the deafening roar of the Mossberg went off.
*The story shifts to a boxing ring where Alex, all grown up, is facing a golden gloves boxer. He destroys his opponent setting the bar very high for his fighting ability but equally as high for emotional damage.
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Spirited Away
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
My lids closed, I detected daylight. Slowly, I woke and rubbed my eyes.."Mm...Sebastian?"
As the remnants of sleep dissipated from my system, I blinked. No customary Earl grey or the familiar sight of a tailcoat. Alone in my dormitory, I collapsed back in bed and inhaled deeply. The linens smelled like nothingness, a contrast to delicately perfumed sheets in the manor. Reflecting on the sprigs of lavender Sebastian would place under the linens and the morning trolleys I was so accustomed to seeing, I shifted uncomfortably. I suppose the lack of these comforts was not the entire reason why his absence disconcerted me.
With fumbling fingers, I readied myself with the academy's livery — a midnight blue blouse and matching pleated skirt. One foot on the floor and another perched on the edge of my bed, I unsteadily slipped on a navy stocking. An unbidden image juxtaposed my current state. A gloved hand travelled along the underside of my leg while another deftly slipped on a stocking. The practiced movement was always smooth and unhurried. I never thought much of this task for it had grown routine between us, but as of late, I had to make quite an effort to maintain an impassive demeanor while Sebastian performed these ministrations. Now in private, I was giving it far too much thought... Face heating, I mirrored the motion with my other leg, imagining the action was done by those sinful hands. A current of pure sensuality reverberated through me. I closed my eyes, my body reveling from the phantom touch.
It's much too early for this.
After taking a much needed cold bath, I crept out of my quarters and to the tiny postage room on the bottom floor. I scanned the small compartments and found the assigned slot with my dormitory number.
As the tiny door creaked open, my breath caught. Inside lay a dozen or so fresh, beautiful flowers. My treacherous heart yearned to believe Sebastian had done this. I brought the flowers close, the petals brushing my nose. A delicate medley of scents danced in harmony, but one flower emitted a fragrance, so sweet and heady, it made my head spin. The powerful lily-like fragrance compared to no other. I inhaled again, deeper this time, trying to discern which one possessed the tantalizing scent. When I found it, I opened my eyes and froze.
Shrouded by a dozen lovely flowers and embedded in the heart of the bouquet was a single moonflower. Also known as devil's weed, the flower lived up to its name. As per the language of flowers, the moonflower signified "deception" for it in all its beauty lurked danger as well. Its toxic, mind-altering properties had been exploited for a millennia and proved fatal if ingested. My brows pinched at the devil's weed. I stared at the ebony-black stem and deep purple petals that reminded me of tendrils.
Deep in the centre of the bouquet lay a tiny tag. I retrieved only to see '7891011 12' where the sender name should have been. Of course. I clicked my tongue. Though Sebastian's hadn't sent this, the allegory to him was almost comical. A bitter taste coated my tongue. As if he could even pretend to care as much. Squashing my foolish emotions, I inspected the flowers with cold, unattached observation. These twelve flowers came from the academy's hothouse, but the poisonous moonflower had been obtained elsewhere. I put two and two together.
The dozen flowers symbolised twelve missing girls and the deadly moonflower in the centre represented deceit and danger.
This only confirmed my theory that something ominous would befell the girls if I didn't solve the case by the full moon. Essentially, the bouquet was a nothing more than warning. I looked and looked at the bouquet to see if I had missed anything. A snowdrop, violet, daffodil, daisy, lily of the valley, rose, larkspur... odd.
According to the language of flowers, each of the twelve flowers corresponded to a birth month. January for snowdrops, February for violets, etc. Did the twelve months have anything to do with the case? A strange thought began to take shape. Perhaps the culprit was following a pattern. Maybe the each of the missing girls corresponds to a particular month. I licked my lips. If that was the case, then I could predict which girls would be targeted next.
Bristling with anticipation, I was about to shut the slot door and head back to my dormitory when I paused. Deep in the dark, tiny compartment, a hint of white caught the light. I hastily stuck my hand in all the way and retrieved an envelope I had missed. I'd see to that later, but now...
Making sure the coast was clear, I dashed back to my room and opened the drawer of my desk. I rummaged through the profiles of the missing girls that Headmaster Delacourt had given me earlier and scanned their birth months.
Mina Singh West - April
Arwen Ashton - June
Astoria Ashton - August
Ban Mao - May
Victoria Alice Macmillan - February
Avril Alouette Chateau - September
Violet Gregory - October
Isabella R. Delacourt - January
I thought I was so close to unfurling the pattern until Isabella's face looked up at me.
Lizzie's birthday... was the first of January. Both she and Isabella had their birthdays in January. Well, that utterly ruined the pattern. Shoving the papers back in the desk drawer, I was forced to conclude that the twelve months did not correspond to a distinct girl. If the pattern did not represent birth months, then what the devil was it?
Sighing, I noticed the unopened envelope I had collected. At the sight of the peculiarly placed stamp, my thoughts scattered. Sebastian...
The nerve of him. If I had any doubt whether he had purposely used the language of stamps in our previous exchange, now I was certain of it. This time he had placed the stamp upside down on the bottom left-hand corner. The configuration relayed, "I am always true to you."
"As if, you slippery demon," I grumbled under my breath. I ripped open the letter and greedily read its contents.
To my young mistress,
It sounds you've taken academy life by the reins. You always have a remarkable ability in landing in trouble, so the ongoings you speak of hardly surprises me in the least. I am rather curious about your encounter with 7891011-12. Do be wary in your pursuit of him. Since I am not by your side currently, it is prudent to exercise caution.
Per our previous exchange, Miss Diaz has not left the estate. She continues to be watched by the household staff and I around the clock. She has made herself quite comfortable in the manor with her beastly Pekingese dog. If the diadem from Her Majesty has been stolen again, we can soundly eliminate her as the culprit.
Ah, Carmilla, the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula. How I enjoyed reading that story. It is delicious how humans secretly desire the very things they are repulsed by. What I would give to see the Academy's play of it. It is most unfortunate that the penny dreadfuls I collected and sorted on behalf of FunTomes are not half as good as Carmilla. (Mr. Noble visited the manor yesterday to remind you of the impending deadline). On another note, the mistress is usually stingy with compliments. It is rare to hear you so forthcoming about my dessert preparations. Rest assured, I shall make you some sweets very soon. As to how I'd regain your favour, I have a few things in mind... Unless there is something specific you wish to request of me. I am all but ready to oblige my mistress in any manner she desires me to.
Your humble servant,
Sebastian
I re-read the last sentence, and heat rose to my cheeks at the double-entendre. Very well, two could play at that game. Grabbing a fountain pen on my desk, I penned an apropos reply.
Sebastian,
I rather loathe the story of Carmilla, and it speaks volumes when you speak of such a horrid story so fondly. I wish they weren't putting on a school play for it. I only hope participation is not mandatory. If Irene Diaz is not the culprit of the diadem robbery, then it is the cipherist's doing. During my investigation, I found a rather intriguing alchemy book that speaks of using the exact twelve stones in some hermetic ritual. I haven't had the time to read it all, so I shall leave that task to you. Perhaps you can elucidate some other points - besides the fact that the author of the book is quite possibly my own ancestor. Meet me tonight by my window so I can give you the book and update you with the latest developments on the case. Do be discrete, as Hulda will take more caution on her nightly rounds after discovering an Eton boy snuck into Jane's bedchambers last night.
P.S. If you want to oblige me, I shan't say no to chocolate gateau. If you wish to indulge me beyond sweets, pray tell what do you have in mind? I expect your answer in person.
Your mistress,
C.P.
I delivered the envelope to the postage room, then maundered to the dining hall. Since the school housed international young ladies, it didn't come as a surprise that the cooks prepared ethnic meals daily. This morning, I breakfasted on Kedgeree, a popular Anglo-Indian dish consisting of smoked haddock, stir-fry rice, and boiled eggs with curry powder along with a dish I was more accustomed to—creamy vanilla custard and spotted dick—which hardly compared to Sebastian's preparations.
As I spooned the currant pudding into my mouth, I heard the name 'Jane' and perked my ears. A chorus of whispers sounded behind me.
"Is it true then, Alice?"
"I heard someone shuffling about in the night last week too. Maybe it was the Eton boy again."
"Sounds like she's been getting a good rogering for a while now."
"How terribly scandalous!"
My gaze drifted to Alice who was surrounded by a gaggle of students.
"What did boy look like?" asked a petite oriental girl.
"It was too dark to tell," replied Alice. Her eyes gleamed with her newfound popularity. "He bolted like a racing horse once he spotted me. He seemed rather tall with light coloured hair. Or maybe brunette... I don't remember too well."
"Well, there's a shocker." Angelica rolled her eyes skyward. Clearly, Alice receiving attention accentuated Angelica's normally unpleasant self.
The conversation of Jane's escapades only ended when the head girl herself entered the dining hall. All the students went pin-drop silent, all eyes fixated on Jane.
"Well, well, if it isn't the academy's trollop," Angelica said with a grin.
Ignoring her, Jane found an empty table to herself. I confess I didn't expect to see the girl calmly poking into her haddock. I was quite certain she'd be expelled or at least suspended temporarily. Well, only one way to know for sure. Much to the other girls' surprise, I rose from my seat and made my way toward Jane. Her face pinkened at my approach.
"Pleasant seeing you here," I said to her. "After Hulda's reaction, I did not think you would still be here."
Jane dropped her voice to whisper. "Neither did I. But when I saw the headmaster this morning, he told me he'd give me a chance to redeem myself. However, he rescinded quite a few of my privileges."
"Like?"
"I'm demoted as head-girl." Jane turned her attention to a piece of flaky fish and stabbed hard. As she lifted it with her fork, I caught a reddish bruise on her wrist. It looked fresh.
"How did that happen?"
Jane's fork clattered on her plate. She quickly tugged on her long sleeves so that they covered her wrists. "Bunsen burner," she replied.
"Even the one that was on your leg?" I asked, recalling the purple bruise I saw the day I first met Jane in her dormitory.
"I'm quite careless," she said quietly.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Whatever is everyone going on about?" came a familiar voice.
Girls turned their heads in her direction, exchanging whispers and giggles of another variety. I raised my brow, equally bemused at their reaction upon seeing Sullivan. I cleared my throat and pointed her an empty seat beside me.
"A boy from Eton snuck into one of the girl's room. And stayed there for quite a while," said Alice. The girl not-so-innocently settled her gaze on the head-girl.
Sullivan widened her eyes at Jane. "No...you?" Jane said nothing.
Angelica sat smugly in her seat. "If you are hoping that her scandalous story will digress from your own, Sullivan, then you're sadly mistaken. I've already told them your little secret."
I pierced own fork into the smoked haddock. Bugger.
"But... the wager," Sullivan sputtered she stared into a sea of high-hat faces.
"Is null and void," said Angelica. Her lips melted into a smirk. "Did you truly think I would honour our wager? Especially such a dishonest one..." Angelica watched in relish as she spurred the other girl's reactions. "Really now, using Phantomhive to cheat and win in order to keep me silent, I thought better of you, Sullivan."
"Listen here, you bint," I said, rising from my seat. A few of the tarts gasped at my coarse language. "I beat you fair and square."
"Exactly what a cheater would say." The brunette gazed at Sullivan like a predator stalking its prey. "I suppose these sorts of behavior should be expected amongst the lowest citizens." She sneered, her lips twisted. "You remember this, Sullivan. You're nothing more than an unsightly weed muddling up the picturesque garden of flowers."
I glowered, sorely tempted to ask the girl if her derriere ever got envious of the things that came from her mouth. In lieu of that, I took aim and hurtled my half-eaten dessert. The spotted dick flew through the air and made a loud splosh with Angelica's face.
Dozens of eyeballs widened like saucers as Angelica screamed in umbrage. Sullivan looked equal parts horrified and delighted.
I flashed the cream-covered girl a demure smile. "Dear me, my hand must've slipped."
"You fiend..." Angelica seethed. "You think you're so clever with your insufferable quips and underhanded tactics."
"For goodness sake, are you trying to insult me? You're only describing me, you know."
Angelica's face reddened. She made various angry noises and appeared to have lost the ability to form words. I decided to extend my generosity and spare her further humiliation. "Leave now else I shall taunt you a second time.”
"Girls, what is the meaning of this?"
Hulda stormed in and took in the scene. A seething Angelica with white pudding splattered across her face, pointing at me in hysterics. Making a quick assessment of the situation, the vice-chancellor barked at me.
Miss Phantomhive, to my office!"
If my punishment was the cane, then so be it. It was well worth it.
"But first," Hulda said sharply, "I have an announcement to make."
Everyone grew silent. Hulda cleared her throat. "After careful consideration, the headmaster and I have decided to elect our new head-girl who will hopefully model the high standards we set forth in Imperial Academy. This student in question has proven to be responsible, aiding the school in various tasks, and has attained the highest marks in her classes." I could hear everyone hold their breath, eager to hear who would take the coveted position.
"All duties, responsibilities, and privileges of head-girl shall be awarded to Miss Sullivan."
Shocked gasps came all around us.
"M-me...?" Sullivan whispered.
Jane forced a smile. "It is like Plato said, Only those who do not seek power are qualified to hold. If the position had to go to anyone else, I am glad it is you."
"I agree," I said. "It might have been worse. Hulda could've picked Angelica. Or me." My lips tugged.
Sullivan laughed. Unfortunately, many of the other girls did not join her. Looks of disapproval gleamed in their eyes, especially Angelica's. I had a feeling she wouldn't waste anything time in cooking up a scheme to retaliate against Sullivan.
"Miss Phantomhive!" Hulda repeated. "Pay attention when you are spoken to... I said follow me."
Tch. I gave her a simpering apology and followed her to the Inspec—Headmaster Delacourt's office. A tedious sit-down proceeded. The woman wasted no time in reminding Delacourt of my transgressions last night and this morning's incident of the spotted dick. The craggy man pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "This is outrageous behavior, even for the Queen's guard dog! Frankly, I would suspend you without blinking an eye, but seeing as that would ruin the investigation..."
"I don't mind seeing to a more suitable punishment." Hulda's eyes drifted to Delacourt's walking cane lying against the wall.
"That won't be necessary." Delacourt raised his hand. "Miss Phantomhive, you've likely traumatized the poor girl. You will make it up to Miss Develigne even if you must resort to groveling. Her family has gifted the academy a generous donation."
"I never grovel," I said. "On the other hand, I suppose the tart groveled her way into the academy by throwing money at you."
"Miss Phantomhive," barked the headmaster.
“Apologies,” I replied sweetly. “To make up for my indiscretion, I shall handpick Angelica a beautiful arrangement of flowers.”
The Inspector flashed me a cold, skeptical glance. “See to it you will."
"You are much too lenient," said Hulda.
"I have far more pressing matters on my plate, Miss Hulda." I narrowed my eyes. Dark circles framing his sharp eyes, the Inspector looked positively haggard. I presumed his daughter's disappearance was the cause of his distress, though beyond the surface, I sensed the man bristled with a fraught, almost excitable, energy as well.
Exiting from the office, I heard a clock in the distance strike three times. Bollocks. I was running late for my next lesson. I increased my pace, taking a short-cut through the courtyard and receiving a solid drenching before entering the east wing. A medley of string instruments drifted from the end of the hall. Swiping the wet strands of hair from my face, I followed the notes until it led me to the music room.
His back to me, a professor deftly orchestrated a group of girls into playing high octaves, then lower ones. That silhouette...bloody hell. It was that vile professor from the library again. Slowly, I crept into the room, praying he wouldn't turn around. Eyes closed through his spectacles, the man was absorbed in the symphony. I sighed in relief. As I seat myself next to a somber-faced Joanna, the man spun around.
"Ah...you," he said, suddenly opening his eyes. Displeasure clung to his angular features, making his face look sharper. "So nice of you to join us, Miss . . . ? "
"Phantomhive," I said in chagrin. "Cielle Phantomhive."
"Miss Phantomhive," he said stiffly. "It would do you well to show up early from now on. I have little patience for those who disregard the artistry of music."
I meekly nodded as I heard hushed chatter behind me. But then I realized, they weren't directed towards me.
Angelica eyed the top hat atop a nearby desk. “My,” she whispered to Alice. “Professor Sinclair's hat certainly is tall."
"Do you think it's true to size?” replied Alice.
"Perhaps I'll be lucky enough to find out."
Forcing my gaze away from the top half, I curled my lip in distaste. I never understood why some thought that gentlemen sported top hats the size of their appendage... I found the concept rather disturbing.
Save for Jane who kept mum, what had the other girls so affected over the man? I gave Professor Sinclair an appraising gaze. Although he couldn't have been more than thirty years of age, he had light streaks of grey in his dark, coiffed hair, and spectacles that made his face look stern, yet possess an air of culture and elegance. With his sculpted features, sophisticated demeanor, and penetrating caramel eyes, I supposed he was conventionally attractive—I gave him that, though he hardly compared to . . . Halting my thoughts, I mentally slapped myself.
"Let us begin with a demonstration, shall we? I'll require a volunteer." The professor skimmed his gaze over the eager lot with raised hands. A feeling of dread snaked its way though my stomach as his eyes settled on me. "I think someone with a disregard for rules could do well with learning to play proper music. If you would kindly stand, Miss Phantomhive."
I rose, my cheeks warming at the dozens of eyeballs pinned on me.
"Is there a problem?"
"No." I screwed up my face into a smile. "I'd be delighted to play, professor."
"Good," he said crisply. He turned the back of the room, surveying the violin, piano, and various percussion instruments. Then, he faced me. "What can you play?"
"The violin," I replied.
"Very good. " He wasted no time in handing me a violin fashioned in white wood. "Let's see what you can do."
I grinned and began playing Tartini's violin sonata in G minor, i.e. "The Devil's Trill Sonata." Under Sebastian tutelage, he had made my practice the ironic piece more than a few times during our private lessons. I played the piece, stoic faced, eyes closed, my head swaying from the movement of the bow.
The other girls watched in rapt silence, but Professor Sinclair only frowned. "It is still missing something," he said.
Jane raised her hand, albeit with some hesitance. ”If I may show Miss Phantomhive, professor?"
Professor Sinclair nodded.
Jane sidled up to me. "Be firmer with your fingers and press down harder. The sound will be richer that way.” She leaned closer still, well past the boundary of my personal space, and murmured in my ear. "Like this." The ex-head girl made a swift motion that seemed innocent enough to our audience, but from her glazed eyes and subtle smile tugging her lips, I knew better. Her hand still on mine, the notes from my violin lifted high, then dipped low, wrapping around me like a satin sheet. My skin prickled.
"Thank you for that demonstration, Miss Greyling," said Professor Sinclair evenly. His gaze raked over me and drifted to a mezzo violin. "Let us try a new change of piece, Miss Phantomhive." He handed ruffled through some sheet music and after some thought, selected one. He handed me the copy. "
Prokofiev's Sonata for Two Violins?
I never had played the piece before, but judging from the notes, it looked somewhat difficult. I scowled. I suspected the man intended to make a fool out of me in front of everyone, but I'd show him to trifle with Cielle Phantomhive.
Violin in place, I began playing.
Soft strains of another violin joined in.
"Allow me to provide you some accompaniment," said the professor.
Professor Sinclair slid the bow with ease. Up and down, his bow moved, making the violin strings quiver - just like the girls' breaths in the hall. The young ladies were practically swooning in their seats. Ignoring them, I fixated on my playing, concentrating hard on the sheet music in front of me. Professor Sinclair barely glanced at the sheet music. He slid the bow back and forth with fluid grace, the bow almost a part of him. Every movement felt sensual, every note infused with richness. He played a contradiction of sorts, restrained beauty wrought with a feral passion. His violin responded to the slightest of touches, trembling underneath those long, spindly fingers.
The professor's pupils were dilated, dark as the robes he wore. He focused his gaze on me and stroked the violin implicatively. A tremor ran through my fingers, and I pressed against the keys harder, trying to maintain control over my unsteady fingers. The tempo of the piece quickened. Professor Sinclair slid his bow back and forth in powerful, sensuous movements. My back arched and I played a cascading river full of sharps and flats, matching his darkly passionate vibrato.
Like a mist the notes drifted from the silvery strings, and the awed faces around us blurred away. Professor Sinclair lowered his eyes halfway at me, his expression bordering between fervor and languor. I held his gaze until he started playing faster. I had to make more than an effort to keep up. If he was trying to trip my playing, I could very well do the same. Without warning, I quickened my pace. His eyes remained closed though - was that a shadow of a smirk upon his lips?
Our strange duet turned into a duel, tangling for dominance. He swooped over arpeggios, and I ranged up and down octaves in a frenetic manner. I increased the tempo, my fingers pressing harder on the strings. He reciprocated and thrusted his bow with greater fervour. The low rumbling of thunder outside infused itself into the mix. We ascended together, a torrential of notes falling upon our ears. A snapping noise filled the air followed by a discordant sharp. I stopped playing.
Professor Sinclair concluded the piece with a long, poignant note. A tsunami of applause swept over him, but he merely lowered his violin with a frown. “Do tell me you did not just break your G string, Miss Phantomhive.”
"I...er..."
He heaved a sigh. "Fortunately, that can be easily fixed. As for your playing... well, I fear that is a different story."
I flashed the cove an affronted look. "I believe played most of the notes perfectly, sir,” I amended when his eyes gave me a stern appraisal.
“You may have performed the piece without technical errors, but your form is poor as ever. Your arm is rigid, your posture tense, and your expression-forced. The problem with you, Miss Phantomhive, is not the notes, but rather, your conviction behind them… or lack thereof. A violinist must play the music, not the instrument."
I lowered my eyes. “And what do you propose?”
Professor Sinclair rubbed a finger along his chin, his eyes raking me from top to bottom. "I believe you need some... inspiration." My face warmed at the provocative lilt in his voice. The blasted man, however, didn't notice. He pressed his fingertips together in contemplation. "For your next assignment, Miss Phantomhive, you will choose a classical piece of your choice, and connect the music with a story like..." He paused in consideration, a finger stroking his chin. "Carmilla. With the school putting on the play, it will be a perfect story to perform on the violin. If you manage to impress me in our next lessons, perhaps I'll put in a word with your literature professor to have you perform during the play."
I felt the color leave my face. "But—"
"That will be all." With a clap of his hands, he dismissed the class.
Exiting the music hall, I grumbled to myself, a string of swear words leaving me lips. As if I didn't have enough on my plate, now I had some prissy exercise of playing the violin expressively using that story I loathed with every fibre of my being. To lift my spirits, I visited the hothouse to procure Angelica's apology bouquet. My cloak dampened with rain, I shivered and crouched by beds of various flowers. I began to arrange them as per the language of flowers.
Geraniums – stupidity
Yellow carnations – disappointment
Foxgloves – insincerity
Meadowsweet – uselessness
I eyed the sparse bunch and frowned. It still needed something more. My eyes darted around and landed on…yes, that would do nicely. A handful of narcissus and thistle — for egotism and misanthropy. And for the center piece, an Ice Plant – for ‘your looks freeze me.' I admired the colorful, decadent blooms.
Absolutely lovely.
In the postage room, I dried myself off and added a tag with my name and a message. "Miss Develigne, I apologize for the comments I said to you earlier. They were terribly rude." But accurate. After placing my pretense of an apology bouquet into Angelica's postage slot, I returned to my dormitory. I placed the key into the keyhole, then paused. My door was already opened. Odd... I could've sworn I had locked it this morning, but perhaps my addled mind had made me forget.
I pushed my door open and my eyes widened. Every inch of my room had been ravaged.
Drawers left open, bedsheets strewn on the floor, papers scattered about my desk, my bag muddled. Even my skirt pockets had been turned inside out as though someone had been searching through it. Pulse quickening, I stuck my hand into my pillow. I retrieved an innocuous looking Southball feminine product box and shook it. Nothing sounded from within.
"Damnation!" Knuckles clenched, I stashed the Southball box back into the pillow. I was certain nobody would look in there. The intruder - No... 7-8-9-10-11-12 had found was he was looking for.
The ring was gone.
Still inside the pillow, my hand glided over a small, hard surface. Hold on a moment... I pulled the object out of the pillow and stared. A history book? A scrap of paper stuck out from its end, serving as a makeshift bookmark. Eyes narrowing with suspicion, I opened to the page—and was met by another blasted cipher. This one read as:
‘YQQF YQ NK NDAWQZ OXAOW FAIQD MF FTQ YMECGQDMPQ NMXX.
BQDTMBE, U'XX QHQZ XQF KAG IQMD FTQ NXGQ YQPMXXUAZ.
UF EGUFE KAGD XAHQXK QKQE.
KAGD ZAF-EA-EQODQF-MPYUDQD,
7891011-12'
I scanned the pages for any clues to deciphering this, but the only thing they contained was a tedious description of Caesar's conquests.
A deafening scream met my eardrums. My hands dropped the book to the floor, and I jerked my head backwards. A girl's screams pervaded from outside my dormitory. That voice. Heart hammering against my ribs, I bolted out of my room and advanced toward the sound. The girl screamed again – a chilling noise that filled me like a burst of arctic air. Fear crystallized my mind. It felt like time had slowed down like a trickle of molasses as I darted toward her dormitory. No more sound came from behind the door; instead an unnerving silence replaced the girl's cries.
"Open up, it's me!" I violently twisted the door knob to no avail, then banged the door with my fist. "Can you hear me? Answer me!"
Silence.
I pounded again and strained my ear against the door. A shuffle of footsteps and a low whisper sounded within. I yanked a bobby pin out of my tresses, bent the pin into a 90 degree angle, and furiously jammed it into the lock - blast, it wouldn't turn. The only thing I could do now was shout for help. Two minutes passed by, and in between my shouts, I pressed my ear against the door, hoping to discern any hint of movement, but no more came.
"Cielle!"
I snapped my head backwards to see a tall figure running towards me in a long bath robe. Beads of water clung to Jane's face, and her amber hair left a trail of messy droplets on the floor.
"What happened?" Jane exclaimed. "I was in the bath and heard shouting."
"I heard a scream inside moments ago, but there's no answer now."
Jane sidled next to me, her face writ with alarm. "Let me see."
"What are you—"
Jane threw herself against the door post. "There's no other alternative. It'll take me ten minutes to get the headmaster - if he's even in his office now." She lunged again and grunted. “On three, okay? One, two, three!”
I joined her and threw myself against the door in a futile attempt to fracture the doorpost, but my petite build did little. Jane did most of the work. She lunged forwards beside me, over and over, and a splinter appeared on the door. The former head girl was surprisingly strong.
"It's working," I heaved.
“Again!” Jane shouted.
The wooden teeth ruptured and gave way, spilling us into the entrance. I caught myself, and my eyes scavenged the room.
An opened library book, its pages facing up, lay on the bed. The balcony window was halfway opened, letting droplets of rain spill inside and a cold draft billow assignment papers around like ghosts in a dance. A pen dripping with ink marred the floral Savonnerie carpet. Messily written above it, in black letters on the wall, was the word 'ZWOLF', but I barely paid attention to these singularities.
Sullivan was nowhere to be seen.
Notes:
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's a performance of Prokofiev's Sonata for Two Violins: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogiHv8SQ6ZU
Succinctly summarized in the words of one commenter as "the inner turmoil of your favorite villain[ess]"
Thank you as always for reading along <3 Let me know your thoughts on the story so far. ^^ I love reading each and every review, especially the ones with constructive criticism or a favorite scene in the chapter. This type of feedback is tremendously helpful because I can gauge what type of scenes to do more of, and what things I can improve on. ;D
An Unlikely Rescuer
Notes:
Images used in the text are free stock photography from Unsplash
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"We're too late," Jane whispered.
My eyes hungrily took in the room, searching, scanning, skimming for anything else out of place. Other than the aforementioned singularities, I found the room absent of any traces of struggle. It was like Sullivan had been spirited away.
Jane followed my gaze to the German sounding word —ZWOLF—scrawled on the wall next to a mounted key set. I pressed my hand against the wall, and inky residue coated my palm. "It's fresh, likely made as Sullivan was taken."
"Do you think she wrote down the name of her captor?"
"I doubt it," I replied. "I know Sullivan's handwriting, and the writing on the wall is starkly different to hers. It's more probable that her captor left the message."
Jane paused. "You don't think it's a confession, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when I was head-girl, I helped a German transfer named Elsa Zwolfer... though I suppose it's unfathomable why a culprit would confess in such a manner. Or maybe the girl is indirectly involved in all of this." Jane glanced at the wall again and rubbed her chin. "Or, it could mean something else entirely."
"I'd go with that option," I said, all too familiar with 7891011 12's pattern — getting himself off by leaving twisted clues for me to solve. "There's something we're not seeing. Something cryptic..."
"It's like those messages hidden in Da Vinci's works." Frowning, Jane wrapped her arms around herself as a blustery draft entered the room. "Shall I close that?"
"I'll get it." I stopped in front of the half opened window, then paused. My vision narrowed. "Curiouser and curiouser."
"What is?" she asked.
"Look at the mud on the windowsill and the raindrops, Jane." I pointed to a damp area on the floor below the window. "They're contained to this area — and nowhere else in this room. Given the downpour outside, there should wet footprints inside, however, there are none." I held her quizzical stare. "The intruder did not take a step further than the windowsill."
"So you're implying that Sullivan walked up to the window and left of her own accord with the intruder?" Incredulity tinged her voice.
"Precisely."
"Then why did she scream?"
"I don't know...yet." Consumed in thought, I flitted past Jane to and fro. For several moments, she watched me relentlessly pace around the room.
"Anything?" she asked.
"Nothing." Reaching my breaking point, I collapsed onto Sullivan's bed. Facing the ceiling, I covered a hand over my stinging eyes. What happened to you, Sullivan?
"It must be difficult for you." A warm hand pushed mine away from my face. I stared up at Jane, her wet amber hair curtaining her distraught expression. "First Elizabeth, and now Sullivan. I truly am sorry."
"So am I."
I swallowed hard, trying with all my might to contain my distress. Jane, however, saw right through my facade. Her long, warm fingers interlaced with my cold, trembling ones. I welcomed the touch.
"I know how you must feel," she said, "to have someone you care about taken from you." Her voice wavered with emotion, hesitating. "For me, that was my sister."
"I am sorry to hear." A pained look stole over the Jane's powdered face. I was at a loss to offer the girl more words of comfort when I desperately sought for that comfort myself. "I wish there was something I could do."
"There is." Jane sat up straight, her grip on me tightening. "Find them, Cielle. You must find them and bring them back home." Her eyes blazed with conviction like rekindled embers. "Even if you doubt yourself, I have full faith in you. You mustn't give up."
"I won't," I whispered.
"I ought to send word to the headmaster about this." She looked reluctant to leave me, but she gave my hand one more squeeze before running off.
Now alone, I took the opportunity to scavenge through Sullivan's personal artifacts. I picked up the library book she had been reading—The Six Swans—lying on her bed and flipped through the pages to see if Sully hid anything inside. Nothing.
Navigating through her assignment papers that littered the floor, I opened her armoire. I rummaged through her neatly kept but faded uniforms. Nothing again. Next, I wandered to Sullivan's bookcase. A line of library classics filled the first shelf, and on the bottom shelf were the older, dog-teared books the girl had brought from home. One in particular caught my attention. The title on the spine read Wörterbuch Deutsch-Englisch—a German to English dictionary.
open Dictionary
I scrutinized the word on the wall, then grabbed the book off the shelf. I flipped to the section that contained the German words starting with Zw. Zwängen, zweckbauten, zweifelloser, zwischenvorhänge...
Zwölf — Twelve
IOf course, the ubiquitous number in this case. I stared darkly at the word, then noticed its placement on the wall next to a mounted key set. The thread in my mind snapped asunder.
Twelve Keys.
I grit my teeth. The twelve alchemical steps —the 12 keys— had to be the metaphorical key to solving this case.
A crack of thunder ripped the night sky in half. I flinched. The downpour came harder, raindrops spilling through the half opened window and pelting against the roof. I stilled in place, a pang of instinct gripping me. Instead of closing the window, I opened it all the way and, carefully, climbed through it.
My shoes plopped into a pile of fresh mud - the same kind left on the windowsill. I inspected the earth wherein I spotted two pairs of footprints next to each other, a smaller one, unmistakably Sullivan's, and a much larger one. Once more, I detected no sign of struggle from Sullivan's. I traced both footprints until they were too washed out to be followed. Nonetheless, I wandered around in the torrent of rain. From a distance a tall figure stood by the edge of a frozen pond, panting. Brows furrowed, I concealed myself behind shrubbery as I neared closer. A flash of lightening illuminated the figure's profile. I stifled a gasp.
The boy who masqueraded himself as the caretaker—7891011 12.
His damp flaxen hair covered his eyes, but I sensed he wore a tumultuous expression. Jaw clenched, hand fisted, he stared into the pond for several moments. An air of deliberation surrounded him. I took the moment to calculate my next move. I could've confronted him right then and there, but foolish impulsiveness wouldn't win me this move. No, I would observe from the shadows.
One foot on the bank of the pond, the other far behind him, he was on the precipice of doing...well, something. With palpable reluctance, he stuck a hand into his cloak and pulled out a small object. I squinted through the shadows of the night, but couldn't make out what he held. After several moments, he hurled said object into the pond. I watched incredulously as he took off into the rainy mist, his cloak billowing behind him until he completely disappeared.
I waited for a while until I was certain he wouldn't return, then peered over the pond. Through the dark waters, a glint of blue caught my eye. My heart raced. At the bottom of the frozen pond lay the blue stoned ring.
A dozen questions swirled through my head. Why on earth had he thieved the object from me, only to dispose of it? I glanced around and found a long branch fallen on the ground. I leaned against the bank of the pond and tried to retrieve the stone with the tip of the branch. Almost there... leaning a little closer, I felt the string slip around the tip of the branch. I reeled it upward like a fisherman.
I grabbed it off the branch and held it to the moon. As I stared through the gleaming blue stone, a strange dizziness stole over me. My body swayed as if I were rocking in a boat. Lids fluttering, I fell to my knees, one of which skidded against the icy bank. I drew in a sharp breath—
A cold hard shock flooded through me as I plunged into the water. I cried out, struggling to remain afloat in the frigid depths. The ring left my grip, but I hardly noticed. Layers of skirt tangled about my legs, their icy fingers pulling me into the inky darkness. Sodden clothes clinging to my limbs like weights, corset restricting every movement, I floundered about wildly. My vision swirled, the midnight skies swallowed up by the nothingness of the waters.
underwater photo of person wearing black shirt
The winter cold was agony. Fully submerged, every inch of me protested, my lungs freezing, my fingers frozen. I stopped trashing, limp as a ragdoll... the numbness spreading. My muscles ceased their violent trembling. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, I faintly heard a voice calling my name, then a splash.
Something gripped my waist and hoisted me up from the cold embrace of the waters. The moment I broke the surface, my lungs screamed for air. I coughed, choking and retching, fiercely gripping the collar of my rescuer. From my bleary vision, I made out a hazy figure hunched over me. Professor Sinclair's features swam in and out of focus. Water glistened on his porcelain-like skin and dripped from his dark locks to my cheeks. His forehead creased, a sentiment beyond concern etching his face.
I gasped for air, hindered by a tightness around my torso. Strong, powerful fingers wrenched off my drenched coat-frock and oxford blazer, then yanked at the front of my bodice. My body jerked with each movement—jolt, jolt, jolt. Professor Sinclair tore off my corset, and I inhaled a lungful of fresh winter air as I sagged downward. He held me against him—or rather I collapsed into his arms. A distinct scent of tea, cinnamon, and musk wafted in the air. Through my blurry vision, I saw past his tinted spectacles, past his smoky, caramel eyes.
"Sebastian..." I whispered before sinking into oblivion.
Notes:
Happy Thanksgiving, guys! As always, a special thank you for reading along. Let me you know yours thoughts so far. I'm thinking of doing the next chapter from Sebastian's point of view instead of Cielle's. Let me know if that's something you want more of ^^
Disclaimer - the next chapter is very SebaCiel-esque
Chapter 14: That Butler, His Mistress {Sebastian's POV}
Notes:
HAPPY NEW YEARS!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Such a reckless girl, I thought with an exasperated sigh. Per usual, the mistress exercised her extraordinary ability to land herself in trouble rather well.
I carried Cielle back to her dormitory in seconds, a blur to anyone who might've seen us. After slipping in through the window, I laid her slumbering form in the four poster. She reminded me just then of a bedraggled kitten that had been soaked in the rain. Placing my hand over hers, I felt her skin—frostbitten to the touch. My brows knitted. It wouldn't do for the girl to catch pneumonia. Working with professional indifference, I promptly divested her of her drenched outer garments, however, I let the wet chemise and drawers remain to provide her a modicum of modesty—though it was hardly much—when she awoke.
I kneeled to the floor and attended to her wet stockings next. The young mistress gave a small shudder as the first one came off, and she shifted her leg in a compromising position, exposing the drawer's split seam in the centre. I did not understand why the Victorians insisted on open crotch knickers for women yet covered their chair and table legs because of their supposedly suggestive nature. Given the invention of massagers, innumerable flagellation clubs across London, and the popular inflatable femme de voyage, I often mused if the Victorians' prudish demeanor—including Cielle's own— was merely a facade to cover up their true prurient fascinations. As I tugged off the last stocking, I refrained from staring at the drawer in question. I found it in poor taste to given the current situation. Were Cielle fully sentient and willing, well, that would be an entirely different story.
I procured whatever blankets I could find to bundle up the mistress and then turned my attention to my own dripping clothing. How unseemly. The cold bothered me nary, but I only slipped off my soaking coat frock to prevent more rivulets from besmirching the carpet. As I removed the last accoutrements of Professor Sinclair's disguise next to a bouquet on the nightstand, I heard a faint groan.
Cielle clutched her head, slowly coming to. Her lashes fluttered, and she glimpsed the tinted spectacles and face wax I had used to alter my features. She sat bolt upright, her mismatched eyes widening as though they had seen an apparition.
"S-sebastian, when did you—how did you...?"
"Shsh, do relax for the moment, young mistress." I gently pushed her back against a pillow, seeing flashes of shock and confusion flit through her mind. "You have just had a considerable dousing."
"What are you doing here?" she said hoarsely.
"I thought it would serve you better if I assumed a role as a professor. It is far easier to aid you in the investigation and keep watch over you when you inevitably landed yourself in the suds."
"Don't treat me like a child. I am sixteen years of age."
"Age matters not. Act like a child, be treated like one," I said matter-of-factly. "Following a criminal—much less, alone—in the dead of the night and then going fishing near a frozen bank, that too with poor visibility... really young mistress, whatever did you hope to accomplish with such impetuousness?"
Cielle curled her lip. "Do shut up, Sebastian. I am beginning to miss your absence." As the mistress processed the night's events, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shivering shoulders and stilled. Her eyes went wide. "I dropped it in the pond... The blue stoned ring—"
"Is right here," I supplied, retrieving it out of my pocket.
Relief washed over Cielle, and she fell back against the pillows. It was then she noticed her wet strands and goose pimpled skin. She spotted her wet cape dress and corset lying on the floor, and color rose to her cheek. The delightful flush only deepened when she peeked under the blankets to become aware of the translucent chemise clinging to her damp skin. Cielle snapped her head at me. " You..."
"Would you have preferred hypothermia instead?" I said coolly. Cielle fell silent. "I thought so... Goodness, you need not cower like a prude—I did not look, young mistress. Not that there is much to see." Earning a black look from the girl, I turned my back to provide her some privacy and began preparing a hot drink. "You'll find some dry provisions laid out behind the screen."
The bed springs creaked as she rolled out of the bed and slunk behind the oriental dressing screen. "It was Sullivan this time," came her quiet voice.
"That is quite unfortunate, young mistress." Despite only meeting the girl briefly, I knew that Cielle and her had some sort of meaningful acquaintanceship, though the mistress would never admit it. "I presume the cipherist has struck again and left another message?"
"Obviously," she murmured.
I heard the satisfying sound of wet garments fall to the floor and the rustling of fabric. As Cielle slipped into a nightgown, she recounted the details of Miss Sullivan's disappearance, including the theory that the girl was not coerced and simply left with the cipherist through the window.
I frowned as I stirred hot milk and honey into a teacup. "As I recall, the envelope that contained the half torn alchemy page mimics this queer behavior. Miss Elizabeth's handwriting on the envelope did not suggest a hint of duress, anxiousness, or coercion as well. In fact, it appeared that she had written the estate's address whilst possessing a calm state of mind."
"You're right," said Cielle. "We found no signs of struggles when we investigated the other missing girls' rooms earlier. Sebastian, I don't think any of those girls were forcibly abducted. I think... those girls just left with 7891011 12." She swallowed hard and emerged behind the screen. "Even Lizzie."
My brows furrowed. "How very peculiar."
"Peculiar doesn't even begin to cover it." Cielle plopped on the bed and stared into the ceiling, brows slanted in contemplation.
I handed her the warm teacup. She took it from me, her cold, unsteady fingers brushing mine, and whispered a barely audible, "thank you." Lashes cast downward, she sipped the warm milk, looking quite like the soaked kittens I snuck into the manor and fed during rainstorms. A pity that the young mistress loathed such lovely, unpredictable creatures— did she not see that she was the paragon of one?
"What?" Cielle caught me staring.
"Oh, nothing of importance." Dimly smiling, I retrieved a linen cloth from the armoire and began toweling off her wet hair.
"That's hardly necessary," she murmured.
"I must insist. I would hate to see you catch a cold, especially in the middle of a case."
As I squeezed the wet strands with the cloth, Cielle grew curiously quiet. She may have looked undisturbed on the surface, but on the inside, I could sense her bristling for distraction. A smile pulled at the corners of my lips, and I purposely let my finger get caught in her tangled tresses. Cielle flinched.
"Pardon me for saying, young mistress, but your hair looks like a tangled mop. If you will allow me..." I set the linen cloth atop the bed and used both hands to comb through Cielle's hair. “You’ll have to forgive the impropriety as my gloves are indisposed for the moment." Cielle gave a noncommittal nod as I set to work in untangling her tresses. A strange sensation stole over my bare fingers as I ran them down the length of her strands. It was the first time I had handled Cielle without gloves, but if I was being perfectly honest, I found the direct touch thoroughly stimulating.
"What a stubborn bundle this is..." I pulled on a tangle with mild force. "I wonder, does it act just like its mistress? It simply refuses to listen to me."
"Oh, very amusing." She curled both hands on her lap as my bare hands raked through her hair. Cielle's breathing quickened, and a dusting of pink shaded her cheeks. Despite these subtle irregularities, she was trying her hardest to remain unbothered.
"Did you know what else I found in Sullivan's room?" she said, seeking diversion. "A mounted key set next the word 'zwolf', or German for twelve." She then explained how that related to the Twelve Keys described in the the alchemy book she discovered.
I removed my hands from her cerulean tresses, now straight and sleek. "Where is the book now, young mistress?"
"Right here." Cielle dropped to her hands and knees, raising her pert derriere a little longer than necessary. Under different circumstances, I might've enjoyed the pretty curve of her svelte body. Instead, I frowned as the mistress retrieve an archaic looking tome from under the bed.
She rose and deposited it into my hands. I paused at the latinized name written on the cover. "Ah, so this is what you referred to our previous exchange. Baselius Phantomhivus..." Intrigue flickered through me. The fact that the cipherist sent Cielle on a goose-hunt to find this alchemy book spoke volumes. I wagered that the author, Basel Phantomhive, was an ancestor of Cielle's. "I presume you do not have much knowledge of your ancestors prior to Lady Claudia Phantomhive?"
Cielle sighed. "I barely know about Claudia herself, only that she was my former predecessor's mother, and that she likely had a hand in Aunt Francis's sword-welding when she served as watch-dog… In any case, take this, Sebastian."
I collected Basel Phantomhive's alchemy book, anticipating some irksome request to follow. Of course, I wasn’t disappointed.
"See if you can comb out any pertinent information relating to the case. I expect you to go through it line by line."
Line by line? My brow twitched. The book easily contained more than a thousand pages. Between preparing violin lessons, investigating the rival academy, playing nursemaid to Miss Diaz's beastly mutts, overseeing the manor, working on a little side project I was concealing from the mistress, and now this legwork, her soul better be worth it.
Masking my irritation, I forced a smile and bowed. "Consider it done, young mistress. Is that all?"
"Actually... there's one more thing." This time her voice had a curious hesitance to it. Cielle pursed her lips on the precipice of issuing some order. An order, that seemed, unrelated to the investigation judging from her reluctant demeanor. If that were the case, I was only too willing to coax it out of her.
"If there is anything my mistress requires," I said, a lilt tinging my tone, "I am all but ready to oblige her in any manner she desires."
As expected, Cielle coloured at my words. Her face tensed if she were dueling emotions she could not master or possibly even fully comprehend."It's nothing, just forget it." As I watched her stare into the floor as though it contained something interesting, I decided to opt for a more direct approach.
"Young mistress, would you care for a massage?"
“What the devil are you on about?”
“I only mean to relieve your tension. You deserve a modicum of respite after the recent ongoings,” I cajoled. "Besides, I promised you in our last correspondence that I would indulge you beyond sweets. You desired my response in person, and here it is." I gave her a cheery smile.
Cielle narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me. Then she huffed and propped her legs on the bed. "Fine, get on with it.
Truth be told, I had not expected her to give in to my suggestion that easily.
I rolled my shirt sleeves up and worked my hands into her skin, kneading like a cat. Cielle let out a shuddering breath, her muscles coiled and ripe with tension. "Your muscles feel stiff as a board, young mistress. They are positively begging for release..."
I felt her liquefy under my ministrations, her lips eliciting a soft sigh in response. "That actually feels nice, Sebastian."
"How forthcoming, young mistress." I worked my hands into her flesh, penetrating deeper whilst alternating between various pressures. When my fingers subtly grazed the inner fold of the nightgown, I heard a barely audible sound, something between a whimper and moan. Cielle blushed, realizing it had come from her.
"Do you... want to see the most recent cipher?" she said breathily.
If Cielle craved so for another distraction, I would humour her. Sooner or later she was bound to run out of these diversions and be forced to reckon with those feelings she refused to speak of.
"Of course, young mistress."
"This one," she murmured, leaning in to reach for a scrap in the nightstand drawer. The gesture forced me to disengage my hands, leaving me curiously bereft for a moment.
"I found it inside a history book."
‘Itqz uz pagnf, euybxk xaaw fa ftq efmde.
Ur kag qhqd imzf fa eqq yq nqtuzp nmde.
U etmxx ymwq yk zqjf yahq cgufq eaaz.
Fux ftqz, xaaw gb mf ftq nqmgfurgx yaaz
– 7891011 12’
"Might I see it?" I asked.
Cielle handed me the cipher, but I shook my head. "I meant the history book."
"The book?" She gave me a quizzical look before pointing to her desk. "The cipher was placed inside a page, almost like a bookmark."
opened to the page in question, which she had evidently folded. "My, how intriguing."
"What is?" said Cielle.
“This page speaks of Julius Caeser's conquests."
"Your point being?"
"Well, I am no history expert, but I recall from personal experience how Julius Caesar invented a secret code to thwart others from intercepting his military correspondence." Smirking, I reflected the distant memory. "He thought it was rather clever, but naturally, others were more so, resulting in his demise.”
"Julius Caeser..." Cielle blinked, then shook her head. "I'm not even going to ask." She skimmed the lines over and over, regaining her usual calm, controlled breathing. "You realize practically everything left in our trail has been strangely centered around twelve? The very first was the telegram to the yard warning about the theft at Her Majesty's Jewel House. The clue found in the broken glass was dated the twelfth of December. Then came the time skip letter for which twelfth word spelled a message, then Zwolf or German for twelve. I'd be bloody surprised if twelve wasn't the key to solving this cipher."
Indeed." I skimmed the lines and resumed massaging Cielle's shoulders while considering other methods of decryption. With vacillating fingers, Cielle swiped her hair to the front, providing me full access to the back of her neck. I obliged her silent entreaty when a thought possessed me.
"Young mistress, try shifting each letter down twelve spaces of the alphabet."
Cielle did as such, her breaths shallow, as I worked on her stiff muscles, and I watched the message unravel to:
“When in doubt, simply look to the stars.
If you ever wish to place me behind bars.
I shall make my next move quite soon.
Til then, look up to the beautiful moon.
– 7891011 12”
"What a juvenile poem," she murmured. "Our cipherist seems to be running out of creativity."
"I wonder where he'll make the next move?"
"I have a theory..." Cielle bit her lip as I found a knot. "It's a bit absurd really."
"Oh?"
"Sebastian, do you know the 12 days of christmas song?"
My hands paused, and I raised a brow. "That, I do." Wherever was she going with this?
"Excellent. I want you to sing it for me."
I stared. Cielle stared back, undeterred.
"I believe I have just spoken the Queen's English." Cielle's lips melted into an impish little smirk. Goodness, her high-handedness had no bounds. She could have very well requested me to merely recite the verses, but I suppose making me sing them would provide her a some sort of entertainment. My hands still on her, I felt a slight quiver of her shoulders as though she was suppressing laughter. Did she not realize how easily these hands could throttle her as well?
"Go on, Sebastian. Sing for me," she said, her smile decidedly feline. "But just the last verse. I couldn't bear to listen to you singing the whole thing."
Thank heavens for small miracles.
"Very well." If the mistress wanted a performance, oh, I would give her one. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, affecting a dramatic touch I couldn't resist. "On the 12th day of Christmas my true love sent to me twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying...five golden rings." My rich baritone voice soared and drew out the line before resuming. "Four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves... and a partridge in a pear tree." I concluded the verse with a free-flowing vibrato that belonged in an operetta.
Cielle stared at me, mouth agape.
"Has my rapturous performance rendered the young mistress speechless?"
She shook herself. "Don't flatter yourself. I was merely confirming something to myself." She ran a hand through her tresses. "I can't believe it."
I languidly massaged her shoulders. "Whenever you wish to enlighten me, young mistress..."
"The cipher is following the twelve days of christmas song, Sebastian. Think about the first girls to go missing — Arwen and Astoria. When we searched their rooms, we found a partridge ornament fallen from their christmas tree. It goes with the line from the song - a partridge in a pear tree. As for three French hens, I think that refers to Isabella Henrietta Delacourt. It is a particularly French name. Then comes four calling birds - which goes with the broken cuckoo clock pointing at 4’o clock we found at another girl's dorm. And the five golden rings—"
"Were Violet and Joanna’s most precious momentos to each other," I finished. "Their matching golden rings." My fingers stilled for a moment. "Perhaps you have a point. I recall a broken phonograph in one of the girl's room, titled Wild Geese Descending on the Sandbank which fits nicely with six-geese a laying. Collectively, these coincidences are a touch odd.”
“Hardly a coincidence. Once or twice is a coincidence, but something happening seven times is the work of an enemy.”
"Was Miss Sullivan's disappearance connected to seven swans a swimming?"
"Must you sing it?" Cielle pinched the bridge of her nose. "I searched her room and found an unfinished book lying on the floor. In fact, I saw her choose that very book from the library myself - a German fairy tale from the collection of the Brothers Grimm. The Six Swans."
"And what about Miss Elizabeth?" I inquired. "She was the second disappearance, yet I fail to see how two turtle doves fits in.”
“Maybe it has to do with the symbolism behind them.” Cielle's voice grew unsteady and soft. “A turtle dove symbolizes affection, friendship, and love. Lizzie embodies all of those things more than anyone I know... she was the turtle dove.” The mistress inhaled a deep breath, not letting her face betray her tumultuous emotions. “The culprit is clearly following this christmas song."
"In that case," I began, gently kneading the base of her neck, "I anticipate the culprit will attempt another abduction during the masquerade ball with the Eton boys for there would be ten lords a leaping."
"It could also go with nine ladies dancing. Which means ten lords a leaping could refer to something else entirely."
"Agreed, we cannot be certain. For now, let us concern ourselves with only the next line, and thereby the next disappearance. Eight maids a milking."
"I have no idea how the culprit will make that one come about," Cielle murmured.
"At least we've unraveled the pattern so we can be more vigilant from now."
My fingers grazed the back of her neck. Cielle shivered though I observed that the winter air had little to do with it. Whereas her skin had been cold before, it had now warmed, a delightful flush spreading over her. My fingers continued their descent, changing pace. This time, they moved from her neck, to her shoulders, and her back in languorous, sensual movements. A single order from her would cease this improper pampering, and yet the girl couldn’t bring herself to give it. Cielle inhaled through her mouth, her breaths taking on a different timbre. Her emotions pervaded from her stronger than usual, and I was fully aware of the reason why. With the important details of the case exchanged, I realized we had a bit of time for other matters.
Her calm exterior had melted into disquietude, and I sensed a restless sea of emotions within her. Pressing deeper into her pebbled skin, I drew closer. "I must confess I have never seen you so affected in an investigation."
Cielle shivered, a moment of hesitation before answering. “Lately, I feel like I’m losing control."
“Are you referring to the case or something else?”
"Both..."
"Oh? Then what is the something else you speak of?"
“I’d rather not say.”
I chuckled, my deft hands traveling down her spine, and I vaguely picked up on some illicit stirrings that crept into her inner consciousness. “What if you were to lose control for a moment? Would that truly be so egregious?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. "But I recently read a story where that is the case. "
"And what story might that be?"
"One that you're well familiar with," she said, her acrid tone casting judgment.
"Ah, you speak of Carmilla."
"Unfortunately. Imagine if Laura lost control of her senses altogether and fell prey to Carmilla's vampiric charms. It would've been the end of her." Cielle held my gaze steadily. "A single costly mistake for one to lose their control."
"But one can argue that Laura had already succumbed to Carmilla's charms, and it certainly was not the end of her—rather the opposite I daresay." My breath ghosted the hair on her neck. "Laura's loss of control made her able to discover her shadow self for the first time—a hidden part of her that always was. Carmilla merely served as a gateway for Laura to discover her repressed nature, introducing her to the liberating exchange of female sexuality."
Cielle curled her mouth in distaste. "Of course, you'd spin the story to your suiting."
My lips tugged at her discomfiture.
"What are you smiling about, you slippery demon?"
"I am merely looking forward to the young mistress's performance piece of Carmilla during our violin lessons."
"Tch."
I applied more pressure, my thumbs moving in a slow, circular rhythm. When my lacquered-like fingernails grazed her skin, a strangled moan escaped Cielle. How I desired to hear a litany of that beatific sound. Cielle grew heavy-lidded, turning the side of her head, and I could see her pupils fully dilated, betraying her dissolute thoughts.
“May I speak plainly, young mistress?" Cielle managed a small nod. "Repressing something only fuels it further, for the more you seek to control something, the more it controls you."
“So you’re implying it is best to rid myself of my control.” Cielle barked a a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not even sure how to do that.”
“I could show you,” I whispered against her prickled skin.
“How?”
I retracted my fingers. "Do you trust me, young mistress?"
“Is that a trick question?”
I lowered my lids. “Young mistress.”
Cielle gave me a penetrating gaze, eyes roaming from head to toe. After several moments, she acquiesced. “Fine, I trust you.”
"Excellent." She watched me pick up a lit beeswax candle and perch myself on the edge of the four poster.
The girl scrutinized me with suspicion. “What do you intend to do with that?”
"Telling you would defeat the whole point of this exercise. For once, you do not have to be in control, just relax." I spoke in a lulling manner. "Should you wish me to stop anytime, you only need to say so.”
This was how it had always been between us — pushing the limits of her boundaries without entirely crossing them. I tilted the candle slowly, ever so slowly, and with widened eyes, Cielle watched the drop of wax fall. She swore under her breath, hands bunching the sheets. I massaged the hot wax into her skin as a sheen of sweat formed long her cupid's bow. “Shall I continue?”
Cielle bit the hollows of her cheeks, fighting back the word that came out of her mouth. “Please…”
"So polite of you, mistress." I chuckled and rewarded Cielle with another tip of the candle. She bit back a moan and pushed the sleeves of her nightdress lower, revealing her bare shoulders. Her skin bloomed pink, the wax dripping along her collarbone and shoulder blades.
“Did you know a wax massage is a form of thermotherapy?" I kneaded her slick skin, my hands hot and spread wide. Cielle closed her eyes, her fingertips digging deep into the linens. "They say this increases blood flow throughout the entire body." My warm breath stirred wisps of hair along her neck. "Your essence grows lovelier by the moment, young mistress.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“Essence?” she said, half dazed.
“Think nothing of it,” I murmured against her skin and tipped the candle once more. She hissed again, this time her hand reaching for my hair. Her essence flooded me, stronger and intoxicating than ever before. My eyes flared, and I felt hellfire within the orbs. My grip on her waist tightened, my hand burning with the mark of our infernal contract. Though her lips gave no verbal order, Cielle's contracted eye blazed at me, lit with secret desire.
The moment stretched between us, and the air in the space stilled, holding its breath. It seemed as though Chronos had willed time itself to slow and bestow a moment of kairos upon us. Moonlight spilled forth its silver light through the window, glinting on Cielle's flushed lips and smoldering eyes. The moonflower within the bouquet had unfurled, wafting its heady aromatic scent to intoxicating effect. It was as though the universe had conspired to create an opportune atmosphere for what was to occur next.
Cielle neared closer still, and the night seemed full of her. "What's happening, Sebastian?" she whispered, her breath on my cheek.
My lips traced the outline of her parting mouth. “Let us not overanalyze it, young mistress...”
Very slowly, our lips met. I kissed her gently at first until Cielle threw her hands around my neck. Gentleness, I reasoned was not what she wanted, especially after simmering in the soup of her latent desires for so long. With a swift gradation of intensity, I deepened the kiss, sliding my tongue between her readily accepting lips. Her essence had never been so nearly as potent as it was now. It felt as though her soul was opening up to me, ripening. I could taste her lust, her primal desires, her urgency and longing, all of which had transcended the flavour of her soul to a new tantalizing height. How I devoured that hot, eager mouth, my tongue grazing her own. Despite lacking experience, Cielle reciprocated with equal fervour. So urgent and wanting was her tongue that it writhed like a sea creature into my mouth. I swallowed her delicious moans and every sensation she was experiencing. More...I desired more of this.
Occupied as she was, she did not notice as I dipped the candle once again. Caught off guard, she cried aloud and dug her fingernails into my back. The hot wax trailed like molasses down her flushed neck. Unable to resist, I neared closer and flicked my tongue, lapping at the substance before it had a chance to sully her nightgown.
Cielle covered her mouth with a hand. "This is, ah... so wrong, Sebastian."
"The best things often are," I murmured and licked the patch of skin, relishing in the sweet ambrosia of her depravation tainting her within. I traced my tongue along her neck, craving to taste more of her. If this alone could drive stir my ravenous hunger...I shivered, imagining what consuming her soul would do to me. All the souls I had devoured in the past would be drops in the ocean compared to this tsunami of a girl.
A panting mess, Cielle gripped fists of my hair in both hands. Upward they tugged, bringing me to meet her desirous gaze. I slid a finger along her jaw, and she shivered. "Do you wish for more of this, young mistress?"
"Yes," she breathed.
I was only too willing to be the wind that fueled the fire. I drew her in for another searing kiss whilst my deft fingers trailed her legs under the nightgown, the underside of her knees and upward until I reached the fabric covering her thighs. Urging me to continue, Cielle threw her head back in a moan, no longer feeling the need to stifle her reactions. My fingers caressed, teased, tempted, but never beyond that. If the mistress wanted to be thoroughly corrupted, I wanted it to come from her volition alone.
"You're terrible, Sebastian," Cielle said, panting.
"Then show me how you like to be touched," I whispered.
I allowed her some semblance of control she guided my hand along her drawers. The mistress was on the cusp of giving in completely... so, so very close to falling off the edge.
Or... was that I?
Reveling in the taste of her lips against mine, I felt my own control slip away, my canines and jet black nails elongating without my accord. Cielle did not notice these abnormalities. She knotted her fingers into my silky black strands as I followed a trail fervid kisses to her décolletage. A wave of desire crashed over me, greedy for the taste of her body, her soul, her. I bite down like Carmilla. Cielle cried out, her face strained in pleasure, and I sensed her release building within. My fingers traveled to the centre of her drawer, inching to the delicious slit at the seam.
A deafening rumble of thunder crackled.
Lightening ripped the skies into two, whitewashing the walls and illuminating my reflection in the window. I froze at the ghastly sight. My true form had blended in with my human guise. The face was a cross between a monster and human, that which even the phantom of the opera would shudder; the face contained countless eyes rolling in place, slitted, hellfire burning in each of them; my fangs protruded from my lips in a sinister fashion; black tendrils and an inky, oozing substance blended into my robes. This hybrid half-human, half-demon creature that stared back was grotesque, repulsive, and disturbing even to someone such as myself. The image lasted mere seconds, disappearing with the flicker of lightening.
I licked the shortening fangs concealed by my lips. It took great restraint to tap down my feral passions and force my body to calm. What on earth was happening here? Never had I encountered such a happening in my previous contracts.
“Sebastian, are you all right?” Cielle had squeezed her eyes against the flash of lightening, but she now looked at me, wide-eyed under knit brows.
With a startling realization, I grew aware of my physical manifestations of desire that my human form had betrayed. I found myself breathing hard, face tensed, composure rattled, trousers tight in the front... How unsightly. But I was far more concerned of the slip of the mask that I had worked so carefully to construct over the years. Suddenly, I realized both Cielle and I were losing control in our own way. Like two sides of the same coin.
I simply could not afford another slip like this.
"Sebastian?"
My lips pursed. Damnation. I could not tell lies. As much as I wanted to reply 'I am fine, young mistress', that would have been spurious. Truthfully, I was anything but, however, the mistress could not know of this. Instead I diverted her question and in the most composed voice I could muster spoke. "Forgive my indiscretion, young mistress, but I fear I must take my leave. There are still a few errands to attend to at the manor." I turned around, eager to leave her presence when I felt a tug on my sleeve.
With much chagrin, Cielle spoke. "Must you go?”
“I have indulged you plenty already tonight.”
“I know but...a lot has happened today, and the thunder—” She flinched as the skies crackled once more. "Please... stay here, Sebastian, until I fall asleep."
“I thought you had outgrown this, young mistress."
"Just for tonight."
I did not want to be in her presence, especially in such a volatile state, but I could not refuse her without arising suspicion.
I practically had to choke out the words. "As you wish."
Cielle nestled under the blanket, and left a measurable space beside her that I was clearly meant to occupy. Reluctantly, I sat down. It was now my turn to look for a distraction. I glimpsed a bouquet of fresh flowers on a desk and attempted to change the subject. "Did you receive those from a secret admirer perhaps?"
"Why, does it bother you?" Cielle said in a sleepy, smug voice.
I frowned. The question she posed did not bother me as much as the answer to it.
"Why ever should it bother me?" Miss Greyling's advances flitted through my mind. The way her long fingers lingered over Cielle's in violin lessons, the way she eyed Cielle with hunger...the way I intercepted each of those interactions. Oh dear.
I cleared my throat. "As your butler, your romantic affairs are none of my concern. You may conduct yourself as you please."
Cielle frowned at my response. "Well, it wasn't from a secret admirer. The cipherist left the bouquet. It contained twelve flowers that corresponded to birth months, and a moonflower at the heart of the bouquet, aka the 'Devil's Weed.'"
"Well, that certainly is foreboding." I said, thankful for a new topic of discussion. "A pity someone would use 'Devil's Weed' for nefarious purposes. Its lush blooms emit the headiest of fragrances. Whether the moonflower is angel or devil depends on whether one craves its beauty or its bane."
Cielle considered my words, half-asleep. "What if one craves both?"
Frowning, I did not answer. A peal of thunder shook the night skies, and Cielle winced, involuntarily squeezed her eyes.
"Turn your head against the pillow, mistress," I said. "It will muffle the sound. As for the other side..." I leaned toward her. "If I may?"
She nodded, permitting me to cover her exposed ear with my hand.
"You'll still hear it I'm afraid, but it will be better than nothing." Another bolt of lightning tore through the skies and stripped the room of color. I counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder while stroking her hair. The gesture may have been unnecessary, but I reasoned this would lull her to sleep faster, thus allowing me to take my exit. I counted the seconds again and repeated. Cielle found this calming for her eyes lowered. "The storm is drifting farther away from us, young mistress."
"Good," she whispered. I brushed the strands of hair away from her forehead, and the mistress inhaled a deep breath. I stroked her hair, this time my hand buried in the depths of long, cerulean tresses. One would deem such actions as tender, quite uncharacteristic of my nature. I could not understand my actions. Why did I have a consuming urge to console her in every capacity I could at that moment and yet simultaneously wish with every fibre of being to wrench away from her?
The storm must have drifted miles away by now. Cielle had closed her eyes, her chest slowly rising and falling. Since it would no longer cause an interference, I retracted my hand, about to rise. "Good night, young mistress.”
"I'm not asleep yet," she whispered, her hand shooting out for my sleeve. "You said you would stay here until I did."
"So I did." I covered her hand with my own until our fingers entwined. I frowned. What had possessed me to partake in this strange intimate exchange?
Her breathing slowed, and before long she fell into a sound slumber. I disengaged my fingers from hers and rose, letting my hands fall, empty, to my sides. I could not recall the last time I experienced such vexation. In encouraging the mistress's deviant impulses, I had made a significant miscalculation. I had only sought to toy with her and enrich the flavour of her soul, but I did not anticipate that in the process I would rouse myself to such fervour that it would compromise my impeccable aesthetics and shake my composure to the core. My aesthetics were something I would not, could not, afford to lose.
I suppose the mistress was blissfully unaware of it all. Being in her presence was becoming nearly unbearable at times. I knew damn well that I was walking a dangerous line between this current form known as "Sebastian" and my true demonic nature. If the latter ever overtook me... no, I would not even consider it. I had prided myself on my control; even when I unleashed the beast underneath, it had always been of my accord.
My shadow swept over Cielle's diminutive form. She stirred in her sleep, undoubtedly restless from the day's events. Even in her slumbering form, her essence emanated profoundly. I leaned down until Cielle's breath ghosted my face. I drew in a deep breath and held it, savoring her essence. Just for a moment, I told myself and then I would nip this in the bud. I leaned against her collar bone. My tongue caressed my lengthening fang, positioned over her jugular like a creature of the night.
It was not till Cielle whispered my unholy name in her sleep that I came to my senses. I tore myself away from her and fled into the shadows.
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Notes of a Drunken Young Soul
All at once, the buzzing of atoms inside me reverberated from my spine through right down to the heel. It was some jolt of lightning blitz the deepest part of you. I had just woken up in the backseat of some car I didn’t know. Someone had spewed their guts in the mat, and I thought I knew who it might be. The sun wasn’t out yet, and the street lights were still going strong with a gentle hum. It hadn’t been that long I guess. I looked around and the house in front of me had music going and the chatter of humans echoing closely through the the empty lot next door. I got up to the porch and peered inside only to have a man walk outside from the entrance. “Shit Chris, how’re you feeling?”
“I need a beer.”
“I think you had a ton already man,” he said with a smirk, “besides Jens in the back all pissed because you said you’d take her with you tonight and you just ended up getting shitfaced outside.”
“Whose Jen?” I asked, half distracted by the cooler of beer I saw sitting inside through the window.
“MY SISTER? JENNY? You know the girl you were all goo goo eyes with and telling her all those things and what not?” At this point I could tell he was become upset with me. “You know what maybe it’s better if you just..”
“Chris?” A young girl in a nice white dress came outside, “You’re awake!! Good now we can get back to the party.” She came up to me and embraced me tightly and kissed me in the check, all the while smiling at the fact that we’d be picking up where we’d left off from earlier.
“Jen, he was just leaving, he got to drunk earlier and had to sleep it off for a bit so I put him in my car, but he says he doesn’t feel well even after napping.”
Jens face seemed a little disheartened, “Is that true? are you not feeling ok? if you want you can sleep it off in my room.”
“WHAT! Jen!? This loser isn’t staying in my house.
Jen spun around and hit right in her brothers face, “Shut the fuck up Stephen, it my house too, and I can shut this shit down whenever I want to, or did you forget who bought all the booze for your little party tonight?” Stephens face went from anger you shame in almost an instant “Now get inside and leave us alone.” She turned back to be and grabbed my hand, “you ok though?”
“Yeah, just need another beer and I’ll be straight.” I said grabbing her hand.
“Oh, let’s get inside, there’s plenty”
She grabbed me and pulled me inside and after a few more rounds, I was back where I started. Only this time there was a soft bed and a softer body. The room smelt like expensive perfume, and the sheets were silk and kind. The next morning I woke up, I didn’t find Jen in the bed with me. I stumbled to my feet and put in my clothes and shoes and hurried out the door. As I pushed out of the room, I heard dishing sounds of pots being shifted, while the aroma of bacon and eggs wafted through the air.
“Hey Chris!” Jens head popped from the kitchen, “I’m making some breakfast, you want some?”
I hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks, and the air only made my stomach lurch forward for whatever it was she had frying.
“Sure.” I said
She fixed me a healing plate and something small for herself and I filled myself with the eggs, bacon, pancakes and coffee. Nothing seemed to be so good at the time. The eggs cooked perfectly, the bacon ever so chewy. All the while, from across the table, Jen had her head resting in her hands, elbow propped on the table. There was still so much innocence to her, a lively figure who just didn’t seem to fit in to my normal crowd. After I was done I chugged the coffee down and started to get up.
“I’ll see you again right?” Jen asked “maybe we can catch a movie or something?”
“I don’t particularly like movie.” I said as I looked through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Oh, well Uh, you have my number. Im sure can figure something out and get together soon.” she said
“Yeah, you have a cigarette?” I asked
“No, I don’t smoke…”
“Alright, I gotta get going, we’ll talk soon.” I tried to walk off, but she gave me a quick hug and smile. There it was again, that innocence. Somehow I think she new I wouldn’t call. As I walked out the door, she probably felt this would be the last time she saw me. As I walked out, I saw Stephen in the back seat with a rag and a bucket. His eyes met mine and like daggers I knew he wished to run one right through my heart.
“Hey Stephen, you got a cigarette?”
“Fuck you chris! Get the fuck out of here before I beat your ass.”
Worth a shot, I guess. I walked over to the nearest gas station, pulled out a 5 and got a pack of cigarettes. Packed it, pulled one out and lit it right next to the pump. I lived closer to death. Closer to life. I watched the sun come up to many times. Life was strange.
-Grimhearted
(8.21.2022)
#poetry#poem#poet#writing#poets on tumblr#notesofadrunkenyoungsoul#written#new writers on tumblr#writters on tumblr#poems
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The sound of the rain woke me up.
Setsuko always got up early, so by the time I usually woke at seven, she was already done with the laundry and cleaning the floors, and the smell of miso soup and steaming rice would waft from the kitchen.
That morning there was no such smell…
I heard the sound of water gushing from the rainspouts.
It must be a rather big downpour…
The light leaking in through the curtains stained the inside of the house with rain.
I turned my head and saw Setsuko asleep next to me in her futon.
I reached out an arm to wake her. She was cold—
Her arm, peeking out from the top of the duvet, was cold.
In shock I got up, pulled the duvet back and tried to shake her, but rigor mortis had already begun to set in.
Struggling, I slammed my eyes shut, knitting my brows.
“Why?” The word slipped out of my mouth.
My heart was pounding violently, and the inside of my head was like an illuminated red void. I looked around the house hoping this was a dream, but everything was where it should be. This was reality. The sound of the grandfather clock that I knew so well reverberated through the house, but I was in such shock I could not count the number of chimes.
Tokyo Ueno Station - Yū Miri
#Tokyo Ueno Station#Miri Yu#上野駅公園口#Tokyo#Japan#Morgan Giles#柳美里#ゆう みり#books#quote#reading#bookblr#bibliophile#bookworm#currently reading#booklr#atypicalreads#negative#death mention#sad
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