#( is it an elaborate plan that might not even work? yes.

[misc-muses]

Gonna be hard to complete the Zodiac without this guy, ey, Sixer?

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene II: The Crazy Idea)

After being cornered by your friends, you find yourself in an even more complicated position due to your impulsive decision.

Part warning: none, just my bad attempt at crack humor Words: 2.6k A/n: If you paid attention, I've been using his gifs from season 9 so the timeline is somewhere along there. And while writing half of this, I realized Emily wasn't even on that season, but for the sake of fanfiction and pure imagination, let's ignore the human error of this stupid author. Thank you. Let me know what you think!!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It took you exactly seven hours and fifteen minutes to finally gather the courage to head to Penelope's lair. The morning had been a blur of paperwork and reports, leaving you mentally drained and chained to your desk. But no matter how much work you plowed through, your mind kept drifting back to last night's disaster and how your friends had planned the whole thing.

Frustration wasn’t enough to describe how you felt. You found yourself gripping your pen so tightly it threatened to snap in your hand, and your fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary as you typed out reports.

Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming about ways to get back at them. You imagined a dozen different ways to plot your revenge, each more elaborate than the last, and although it provided a temporary sense of satisfaction, it wasn't enough. 

By the time you wrapped up your last report, your frustration had reached its peak. You decided you couldn't wait any longer. You headed to JJ's desk first, hoping to catch her and get some answers, but it was empty. With no sign of her anywhere and your patience wearing thin, there was only one other person who might have the answers you needed.

You made a beeline for Penelope’s office. The moment her door came into view, you knocked sharply and then entered without waiting for a response. You weren’t surprised when you found Penelope and JJ huddled over a monitor, their heads snapping up in sync at your abrupt entrance.

“There she is!” Penelope exclaimed, turning around in her chair. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, crossing your arms. “I wonder what could possibly be so interesting about me.”

Penelope and JJ exchanged a quick look, barely suppressing their chuckles. 

“How did it go last night?”

You groaned at the memory. “I can’t believe you guys tricked me!”

JJ laughed and turned to you, her expression almost apologetic. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? We just thought it would be…” she looked over at Penelope, trying to come up for a word before settling with, “Fun.”

“Fun?” You exclaimed. “Manipulating your friends into awkward situations is your idea of fun?“

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “It couldn't have been that bad. Did you guys talk it out?”

You stared at her pointedly as if the idea of you having that conversation with him was absurd.

“No.”

“Did he apologize for anything?”

“No.”

“Come on, there had to be some deep, meaningful conversation,” JJ chimed in, trying to hold back a grin.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Did he walk you home?”

“No—wait, yes, he did,” you admitted, recalling the memory. “But he complained the whole time about how inefficient my route was and how there were, and I quote, statistically shorter paths to my apartment.”

“How sweet of him,” Penelope observed, deciding to ignore the last part of your rant. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. “Did he lean in for a goodnight kiss?”

“What? No!” You sat on the only empty chair in the room, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing happened.”

“Did he at least say something sweet when he walked you home?” Penelope prodded, trying to dig deeper.

You shook your head, a resigned sigh escaping you. “No, because it was nothing like that. We talked, we ate, he walked me home. That’s it.”

“Sounds like the start of something to me.”

“Totally the start of something,” Penelope nodded enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “There’s nothing to start because we can’t even stand each other.”

“Well you know what they say,” Penelope sang. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, trying not to show how unnerving her assumptions were. "That's ridiculous."

“But he walked you home,” she pointed out.

“So?”

“So that’s got to be something,” JJ joined in. “Spencer’s not exactly known for going out of his way unless he wants to.”

“He was just being polite,” you insisted, feeling cornered. “He walked me home because my apartment was on the way to his place.”

Penelope tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, on his way, or making a way?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe he’s being subtle about it,” JJ suggested, trying to sound reasonable. “He’s not that forward when it comes to expressing his feelings.”

“No, guys, it wasn’t anything like that,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly in frustration as your eyes moved between the two of them. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls closing in as they stared at you expectantly. They were enjoying this way too much.

“Oh, but it could be,” Penelope persisted. “You’re both single, smart, attractive people who spend a lot of time together.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” she continued, her voice softer now as she reached out to pat your hand. “We’re your friends, and if there’s something more, we’d love to support you.”

“Or if you prefer to keep it a secret, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Exactly. You can trust us. We’re really good at keeping secrets.”

“So good.”

“So good.”

Your patience snapped, frustration and pressure boiling over. “Fine! Yes! We’re going on another date!” You blurted out, the lie spilling out in a moment of desperation before you could stop. “Happy now?”

Silence fell over the room as Penelope and JJ stared at you, stunned. Then slowly, realization dawned on their faces, and a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.

“Oh, I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

JJ grinned at you. “Really?”

The weight of your words hit you like a cold splash of water.

What had you just done?

“This is so exciting!” Penelope gushed, her enthusiasm mounting. Then she turned to you. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

You suddenly felt a wave of panic. You scanned their faces, seeing only genuine excitement and curiosity, no hint of doubt and discomfort swelling inside you. How could you explain that there was nothing to tell because there was no second date? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to their relentless teasing? You couldn't possibly confess now, not without making everything infinitely worse.

But how were supposed to tell him? The idea of deceiving not just your friends but also involving Spencer in this lie made you feel sick. The room seemed to spin as you tried to come up with some way to ease the damage.

“I... I wanted it to be a surprise?” You managed to say, although the words sounded more like a question. Your lie felt hollow even to your own ears, but Penelope and JJ seemed to buy it, nodding and exchanging excited glances.

“This is going to be amazing,” Penelope said, practically bouncing in her chair. “So when’s the next date?”

Your mind raced. For there to be a next date, even a pretend one, you needed to talk to him. The realization hit you hard, the full weight of the lie you'd just created sinking in. You'd have to involve him in this deception and the thought made you feel queasy. You imagined the awkward conversation, the look of confusion—and likely frustration—on his face. This was going to be a mess.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, scrambling for a response. “Uh, soon. I-I’ve got to go talk to him about it, actually.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up even more. “Oh, planning it together! That’s so sweet!”

You forced a smile, slowly rising from your seat. “Yeah, super sweet,” you mumbled, your voice barely steady. You could feel your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your lies. “I, uh, better go find him now.”

Without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You mentally kicked yourself with every step. You had let them get to you, allowing their teasing to push you into this mess. You couldn’t believe you had let yourself get caught up in this lie.

You paused in the hallway, briefly considering turning back and telling them the truth. The thought lingered for a moment, the idea of ending this charade before it spiraled further out of control. But you quickly shook your head, knowing that backtracking now would only make things worse. You could already imagine how unbearable the teasing and explanations would be.

No, you’ve gone too far to back out now.

Continuing down the hallway, your steps quickened as you searched for him. You finally spotted him by the pantry, absentmindedly pouring too much sugar into his coffee. You walked up to him and leaned against the counter, watching him stir his coffee with more force than necessary.

“I did something stupid,” you blurted out, catching his attention. He looked up before glancing back down at his cup.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“No, listen.” You leaned in closer, lowering your voice. “It’s about last night.”

He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised as to why you would bring up anything from last night.

“What about last night?” He asked, bringing his cup to his lips.

The words tumbled out in a rush. “I was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have this… thing going on now. I couldn’t take it anymore. So…” You watched him take a sip of his coffee. “…I told them we’re going on another date.”

He choked, the drink catching in his throat. Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.

“You told them what?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” You rushed to explain. “They wouldn’t stop pushing and I just wanted them to shut up. I thought if I said something like that, they’d just leave me alone. But now they expect details, and I… I need your help.”

He took a deep breath, trying to process what you were asking of him. “Let me get this straight. You, of all people, told them we’re going on another date, knowing full well how we—” He paused, searching for the right words. “How we don’t get along. And now you want me to help you keep up this lie?”

You nodded, and he called out your name in frustration.

"Last night wasn't even a date!”

“I know! The words just… came out.” When you saw him shake his head disapprovingly, you let out a groan. “I’m not thrilled about it either, okay? But I’m kind of… desperate here.”

Spencer took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. After a moment, he set the cup down, gripping it in his hand.

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed before turning around, walking back to his desk. “I’m not going to help you.”

You shuffled along, trying to match his pace. “Why not? This could actually get them to stop.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is crazy. You can’t just spin lies and drag me into them because you want to avoid a little teasing,” he retorted, sitting down and starting to shuffle through some papers on his desk, clearly trying to end the conversation.

“It’s not a little teasing! They’re relentless,” You pressed, leaning against his desk. “Come on, don’t you ever get tired of them trying to set us up?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend to date you. What’s next? A fake wedding?”

“Don’t be dramatic. We just need to show up together a couple of times, act mildly interested in each other, and then we can break up. We fake it, we tell them it didn’t work out, and we move on. It’s simple.”

“Of course, because nothing says ‘simple’ like faking an entire relationship.”

You crossed your arms and took a deep, calming breath. “Look, I know it’s not the greatest plan, but can you think of a better way to get them off our backs?”

Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “You realize you’re trying to deceive a team of profilers, right?”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to back down. “Wasn’t this your whole idea in the first place?”

“My idea was for us to act like we get along, not pretend that we’re in love.”

“It doesn’t even have to be convincing,” you argued, leaning in slightly. “Just enough to make them back off for a while. Besides, if you start laying it on too thick, they’ll never believe it. They know you don’t have much experience to begin with.”

Spencer looked offended, his brows knitting together. “I have experience,” he countered. “Just because I’m not flaunting it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless.”

“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and when you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, you realized what you had just implied. There was a tensed pause as you both stared at each other. You both knew the answer to that question, and you both knew you were treading dangerous territory.

But before either of you could break the silence, a voice cut through the tension. “What are you two lovebirds fighting about now?”

You turned to see Derek standing by his own desk, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then you saw it, an opportunity. If Spencer wasn’t going to agree to help willingly, you were going to take matters into your own hands.

You straightened your shoulders and faced Derek. “We need to tell you something.”

Spencer sensed what you were about to do and quickly stood up. “Wait—“

“Reid and I are dating.”

You heard Spencer take a sharp inhale. There was no turning back. The nerves in your stomach tightened, but you decided to ignore it and focus your attention on Derek instead. His eyes widened in surprise, looking between the two of you.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms and standing your ground, while Spencer remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable. “We decided to give it a shot.”

“At dating? As in romantically?”

“I don’t think there’s another way to describe it.”

Derek stared at you both for a moment longer, then his shock gave way to a broad grin. “Finally.” He let out an amused laugh “Took you two long enough.”

He approached with a playful swagger, clapping Spencer on the shoulder and ruffling your hair, which you quickly swatted away. “Can’t say that I’m surprised, but congratulations.”

Spencer looked at you, and you glanced back at him. Derek, oblivious to the tension between you two, grinned widely.

“I guess all that tension was just unresolved passion, huh?”

Your eyes snapped at him. “Morgan!”

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing a broad smile. “I’m just happy for you both. Seriously.”

You stared at him, bracing yourself for more teasing, perhaps a joke about what supposedly happened last night, or worse, something embarrassingly inappropriate. But to your surprise, Derek didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded with a genuine smile and returned to his desk, resuming his work.

You and Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process the sudden shift. You both were so used to his relentless teasing that his quick exit left you momentarily speechless.

You slightly leaned towards him as you continued to stare at Derek hunched over his desk.

“Do you hear that noise?” You whispered.

“What noise?”

“Exactly. This is the sound of peace,” you replied with a slight grin, turning back to Spencer. “See? This is already working. If we keep this up, we can finally get them off our backs.”

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he muttered, giving you a pointed look.

“Do you have a better plan?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m all ears if you do.”

Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the pros and cons. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this…” He trailed off, looking genuinely conflicted. “This is going to backfire, you know that, right?”

Sure, he could be right, but at the same time, you believed this plan was harmless. It seemed like a simple solution: a fake relationship played out convincingly enough to appease your friends. It was supposed to be straightforward—an act, a performance without real consequences. Nothing could go wrong if you controlled the narrative.

You finally looked up at him. “Don’t worry,” you said, trying to sound confident. “It won’t.”

But as the words left your mouth, you realized, you weren't entirely convinced.

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[kurokawaia]

❛ DADZAI?? ❜

DAD!Dazai Osamu X MUM!Reader

WC: 1k+ | WARNINGS: x fem reader, reader is a mother, dazai is a father, you both have a daughter, ooc dazai? + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: hihihi!!! this idea has been stuck in my head for the longest time, And I absolutely love ur writing style!!!!!!!! So I’m wondering if it’s possible for you to write a dadzai x fem!reader and he has a little daughter!! Thank u!!! - ANON

m.list | bsd m.list

Dazai would be the ultimate playful dad. He'd constantly come up with games to entertain his daughter, he'd let her win every time! he doesn't love to see his little princess sad, he wants her happy all the time. No tears around here!

Dazai’s teasing extends to both you and your daughter. He’d affectionately poke fun at the little things, like when his daughter mispronounces words or when you’re caught being overly serious.

Dazai is very protective of the both of you, your his only family, your his wife, and she's his daughter. He makes sure everything is secure, he doesn't want either of you in danger, he's always looking out for the threats, especially considering what his last job was.

Dazai would constantly shower his daughter with affection, but in the most chaotic way possible. Imagine him picking her up and spinning her around until she’s dizzy with laughter, or carrying her on his shoulders >.<

After your daughter goes to bed, Dazai loves having lovey-dovey moments with you, kissing you, hugging you, teasing you, having sex with you, he loves you all.

Dazai always be thinking of spontaneous adventures to take you and your daughter on (yes he will avoid work by doing this, he's hitting two birds with one stone) loves to watch his little girl play on the playground, making sandcastles but he glares at any boys who goes up to her.

Protective Dazai! GLARES AT THE LITTLE BOYS WHO WALK UP TO HIS LITTLE PRINCESS 😭🙏🏼

Dazai’s attempts at teaching his daughter important life lessons would often be... unorthodox. He’d tell her bizarre metaphors or use strange examples... when she's older, in her teen years, she starts talking about a double suicide as well...

When his daughter comes home with school projects or arts and crafts, Dazai gets surprisingly into it. He’d help her build the most elaborate school project.

As much as he wants to shelter his daughter, Dazai also believes in giving her independence to explore the world. He trusts that with both of your guidance, she’ll grow into someone independent.

BEDTIME STORIES!! DAZAI LOVES PULLING GUNNY VOICES WHILE READING HIS PRINCESS A STORY! He’d act out characters, make exaggerated voices, and then cuddle up with her until she falls asleep, her tiny hand clutching his 🥺

Dazai and your daughter would often conspire against you in the cutest of ways, like pretending to plan a prank or plotting a surprise just to make you laugh.

Now.... Beast!Dazai as a father...

Dazai would soften in front of his daughter, would absolutely never get mad, never yell, none of that. He is incredibly protective of the both of you, almost to the point where he is paranoid because he's scared something might happen to you and his little princess.

Though he’s a feared man in the underworld, when he’s home, he’s a completely different person with his daughter. He’ll play peek-a-boo, help her chase butterflies, and allow her to style his hair (which is why he often has bows or clips in his hair when you come home)

He’s big on teaching his daughter how to read people and situations. Even from a young age, he’ll subtly point out things like body language, tone of voice, and how to trust her instincts. He wants her to be sharp and never get hurt, he doesn't want her to suffer in a world like his

Dazai spoils you both, bringing back gifts with him after missions, flowers, toys, all of that. He loves to see his girls happy.

On nights where he can’t sleep (which is often), you’ll find him in his daughter’s room, quietly watching her sleep (NOT IN A CREEPY WAY LAMFOBSOJBVLS) Sometimes, he’ll hum lullabies from his childhood to soothe himself as much as his daughter.

You are the one person who keeps Dazai grounded. While his daughter melts his heart, you provide him with emotional stability. He’ll confide in you about his fears of failing as a father, or anything, because he knows you're there to help him, to help him do teh right things, reassure him, telling him that he's doing the best.

Dazai trains his daughter in self defense. He doesn't want her involved in the mafia, he just wants her to be able to protect herself. He only does it when his pretty wifey isn't home though... he doesn't want to get scolded for you catching him teaching her how to wield and shoot a gun

Family nights every night! Dazai never knows when his last night will be so he makes you eat together, watch a movie, reading a story to his daughter every night without a fail because he chesrishes these moments so much.

Dazai isn’t big on over-the-top displays of affection in public, but when it’s just you and him, he’ll wrap his arms around you, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable. He’ll kiss your forehead or play with your hair.

Dazai would raise his daughter to be independent. He’ll often praise her when she tries to solve problems on her own, even if it’s just something as small as putting her toys away. He wants her to grow up capable, strong enough so a man doesn't need to provide for her (even if shes an adult, dazai will never approve of a man with her)

Though Dazai is laid-back around you, once his daughter starts showing affection to other male figures, whether it's an innocent crush or just bonding with a friend, he’ll get hilariously overprotective. You’d have to reassure him that his little girl isn’t going anywhere 😭🙏🏼

He has a habit of giving his daughter cute nicknames, princess, my little girl, my little princess!

Dazai occasionally fears that he won’t be a good father because of his past and the world he’s still involved in. But you remind him that he’s doing his best, and the love he has for both you and his daughter is more than enough to prove he’s a great dad.

Dazai has a hidden soft spot for his family (obviously). You often catch him staring at both of you with a soft, almost melancholic smile, as if he can’t believe he’s found something so pure and worth protecting.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

[wobster109]

Dissecting the post-Sunday conversation between Ratio and Aventurine

This conversation is not, as many are interpreting, proof of Dr. Ratio's loyalty.

It couldn't be: they are still in the dreamscape, where the Family's eyes and ears are everywhere. No, this is a post-mission debrief, heavily encoded and disguised as a quarrel.

Dr. Ratio: You look pale. Or, is that also part of your act? Aventurine: Didn't think you'd have the nerve to show yourself. Dr. Ratio: I thought this was exactly what you wanted. After all, I faithfully fulfilled my duties as you instructed. Dr. Ratio: Just tell me if you can't hold on any longer. Aventurine: So, the "genius" of the Council of Mundanites wants to be my undertaker now? My… what an honor.

First part of the convo. Aventurine is playing his part perfectly. He’s acting angry and hurt: Ratio you rotten betrayer.

Interestingly, Ratio is slipping. Are you ok? Tell me if you can’t hold on. It almost sounds like he's a bit unsure about what happened. "I thought this was what you wanted", like he's asking for reassurance in some form.

Aventurine has to work hard to drag Ratio back on-script. "Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me." It's a hint and a reminder: stick with the plan, Doctor!

Dr. Ratio: Yes, and I'm pretty sure the people at the Strategic Investment Department would love to be notified of your death in due time, but let's not forget you won't be seeing them, because I'm the manager of this task. Aventurine: Great, then tell your people that Aventurine is ready to go in seventeen system hours.

Ratio asks for instructions (disguised as a taunt), and Aventurine provides them. I'm not entirely sure what instructions were given. It seems to be What should I tell the IPC? / Here's what you tell them.

Aventurine: My conversation with Sunday convinced me that there's a traitor in The Family, and that they hold the secrets of Penacony… So, I took the opportunity to set everything in motion. Aventurine: I even managed to recover the gift money. Things haven't gone this smoothly since I walked through the doors of The Reverie… Now, I'm only one step away from victory. Let's just wait and see.

Confirms that everything is on track. I believe the line about the gift money is actually him confirming that he has the aventurine cornerstone.

Dr. Ratio: Sounds like a very elaborate way of saying that you failed. Aventurine: That's all I can say. Have you forgotten, Doctor? You betrayed me.

This sounds like a bit of a warning from Aventurine. Remember we can't say too much here.

Dr. Ratio: You've got a lot of nerve — how exactly do you plan on completing your task while you're hands are tied by The Harmony? [...] Dr. Ratio: That's true, but what's your plan? Did you conceal an Orbital Support beacon in that gift money bag?

This is interesting. Ratio doesn't know the full plan! I imagine he's tremendously on edge. He's fishing for info, again disguised as taunts, specifically info about how Aventurine is going to get himself out—but of course, Aventurine can't say it out loud, not in the dreamscape.

Ratio is at the breaking point.

Dr. Ratio: Fine. Here, take this. Open it when you're on your last legs. You'll thank me.

YES this is what I was waiting for, the moment when his whole voice changes! His usual tone is very much like giving-a-speech. He pronounces each word and syllable with precision, and clearly enunciating all the ending consonants.

Not here though. It's all grumbles. I think this might be the first time we're seeing cracks, and the personal Dr. Ratio is showing through instead of the public-speaking one.

Aventurine: You catch on pretty fast, Doctor.

He caught on that he was supposed to play along and not say anything that outright gives the plan away. (In my opinion he was pushing it a bit.)

I wonder if that's why he pulls the sudden disappearing act. He's slipping up, and/or bad at saying good-bye. Can't trust himself to get another word out. 🥺

[megwritesriddles]

Coming Clean ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tate Langdon x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 9 - Masturbation & Voyeurism. Tate has been watching you since you moved in, enjoying your shower routine each night without you knowing. To you, he's the boy next door, only a friend. Oh, how he wishes you knew.

Tags: Masturbation (f and m), Voyeurism, Non-consensual voyeurism (or not???), Fantasising, Perverted behaviour, Ghost!Tate, Not canon compliant, Very mild fluff.

Word count: 2.4k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Yes the title is a cum pun... I'm sorry!! I ended up combining two kinks for this one because I had essentially planned the same plot twice (kinktober has made me realise I'm an awful planner tbh oops)!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Tate waits, like he does nearly every day, in front of the door for you to get home. He’s impatient, even though he knows you’re not even running late. Every weekday, you come home from work, throw off your work uniform and hop into a nice warm shower. You spend a nice long time there each day, massaging your calves, sore from standing at work all day, relaxing your shoulders and rolling your neck. It’s a show he’s never once missed since you first moved here, a show that he delights in every single time. He taps his foot, hearing your car pulling into the drive. A smile spreads over his face as he hears the lock on the front door click. You throw open the door and he’s stood right there, yet you don’t see him, brushing past him to set down your bag and kick off your shoes. Sometimes, Tate feels a little sad that he can’t show himself to you, to let you into his little routine, to become a part of yours. He often likes to imagine you coming home after a long day at work and seeking him out for a hug, but of course, you don’t do this. You don’t know he’s here right now, and you most likely never will. He follows you up the stairs to your bedroom. He knows from the way you glance around a little anxiously that you’re aware of ghostly presences in this house. In fact, you’ve confided in him a few times that you think the house is haunted. He likes to laugh you off, just because of the irony of it, telling you ghosts don’t exist.

He shows himself to you sometimes, appearing on weekends when it seems realistic he might have free time, claiming to live ‘a few doors down’ and not elaborating further. At first, you found it odd of him to come over, but you were still polite anyway. Eventually, the two of you had sort of become friends. This relationship was hard to maintain, you’d ask to get his number to text him and invite him over, but he has to improvise a story as to why he doesn’t have a phone. He has to come up with a fake job, something you could never investigate. He can’t say he works at the local grocery store and then have you visit it and find out he’s been lying. He tells you he works in the city, in an office. You’re not interested enough to press, especially as he makes a show of lamenting how tedious it is and how he doesn’t wish to talk about it. He’s sure you’ve noticed some inaccuracies in the things he’s told you, especially as he’s often a little distracted while the two of you talk. However, he knows your first instinct won’t be to assume he’s a ghost, so he feels safe enough to let a couple of details get fudged.

He watches, leaning against your wall, as you sluggishly strip yourself of your work uniform. You groan, your body clearly sore. He imagines materialising behind you, sliding his hands onto your shoulders and offering a massage. In his imagination, you accept and turn to kiss him while he rubs your shoulders. He’s had a lot of time to fantasise over you, stuck within these four walls. He has a fantasy of what it would be like to materialise during every single step of your routine, and in none of them do you do the realistic thing and scream. In his fantasies, you seem to have always been aware of his presence and you’ve just been waiting for him to show up. He watches hungrily as you unclip your bra and slide down your panties, tossing them toward the hamper. He imagines materialising just in time to catch them midair, hanging them from his finger and smirking. You’d just giggle in surprise and make some comment about how you’ve been waiting for him to do that. You grab your towel and head toward the bathroom, he follows behind you, not even bothering to be subtle, you won’t see him anyway. The other ghosts have caught him occasionally spying on you, but no one bothers to intervene, there’s not much they can do even if they wanted to, which they probably don’t care to. Most of the ghosts are just trying to stay out of your way.

He leans against the bathroom counter, eyes following you as you turn on the shower, waiting as it warms up. You hang up your towel on the hook behind the door and he appreciates the way your body curves with the action. Your nipples are deliciously hard in the cool autumn air and he imagines flicking his tongue over them and the lovely little sounds you might make in response.

He’s kissed you once. One Saturday, while he was ‘over’ at your house, the two of you had played a drinking board game. Most of it had been divulging truths, several of his ended up being lies out of pure necessity, but he enjoyed the small truths he could share with you, and doubly enjoyed finding out some of your secrets in return. He already knew a lot of it, from watching you, but you admitting to having had a wet dream about him once was something he hadn’t known. He’d been smug the rest of the night, no matter how much you’d tried to insist the dream was a one-time fluke. He’d pulled a card that told him to kiss the person to his left, but it was only the two of you playing. He expected you to tell him to pick up the next card, but instead, you leaned over and kissed him, cupping his chin. The kiss was much longer than should’ve been necessary for the game, soft and sensual and dizzying. When you pulled away, he leaned over the board to try to kiss you again, taking the way you kissed him to suggest you wanted more. You gave him a few seconds before pushing him away and telling him that you’re not doing this. He didn’t understand, doesn’t to this day, but relented with a huff. Things between you were tense for the next few weeks. Currently, it seems the kiss has been forgotten, but not in his mind, never in his mind.

You step into the shower, the water cascading over you, making your hair stick to your skin. You sigh deeply, brushing your hair from your face. A thin film of steam covers the whole bathroom, billowing from the showerhead. Tate watches your blurry figure through the haze on the glass shower wall. He watches as your hands roam your body, distributing the warm water all over yourself. You lean down, starting to gently massage one of your calves, your thumbs rubbing circles over the tense muscles. You repeat this action with your other calf, sighing pleasantly. Tate moves as you go to grab your washcloth and saturate it with shower gel, into the shower to stand behind you. The view from here is perfect, your ass on full display as you bend over to scrub your legs. He slides down his jeans and boxers, taking his half-hard cock in his hand and starting to gently tug at it. He takes his time, knowing you’ll be in the shower for a while and he has no need to rush. He leans against the back wall, his eyes becoming hooded as he watches you, lazily caressing himself. He watches the suds trickle down your legs slowly as you start to clean your hips and stomach. He watches appreciatively, taking in all the various curves and lines of your body, familiarly yet entirely new to him too. He knows how you look by heart, but the feeling of you under his hands is still only a dream. A very frequent one. You swipe the washcloth under your breasts, over your chest and arms, under your armpits, everywhere you can reach on your back. He wishes he could offer to help you reach, wash your back and then lower his hands to grab the delicious curve of your ass. His hand speeds up unconsciously as he imagines pressing you against the wall, pressing up against your back, kissing down your damp neck. You rinse yourself clean and stand for a moment, eyes closed under the warm spray of water. His eyes follow various water droplets as they trace down the curves and valleys of your body.

With a deep breath, you fill your hands with shampoo and start to slowly work it into your hair, sighing softly. Perhaps he’s managed to condition himself, like Pavlov’s dog, because at the delicious scent of your shampoo, his cock starts to twitch. He knows what’s coming next. He’s gotten the sense you’ve had a stressful day, which makes him even more excited. He slowly pumps his fist over his length, twisting slightly, eager for the highlight of his day. The suds slowly dislodge themselves from your hair, plopping down onto the shower floor and swirling into the drain. You brush your hands through your hair, making sure to get rid of every last bubble, the water making your hair look like a sheet of satin. You squeeze out some conditioner into your hands, the smell of it making Tate even more excited, working it into the ends of your hair. You then neatly twist your hair, pulling it all to one side, to let the conditioner sit. You rinse your hands and then turn off the water. For a moment, the bathroom is eerily silent. He knows you turn off the shower while you do this to save water, but he likes to think you do it so he can hear your gorgeous little moans without having to strain over the spray of the shower.

You lean back against the shower wall, he steps to the side for a bit of a better view of you. His hand remains motionless on his cock, waiting for you to begin. Your hand snakes down your stomach, sliding between your legs, the tip of your finger tracing a teasing path around your folds, to work yourself up. Keeping a keen eye on your movements, he tries his best to match your pace, teasing slowly over himself, thumbing over the head of his cock. He wishes you were doing this to each other rather than yourselves, but he tries not to let that thought dampen his excitement. You start to gently circle your clit, letting your head lull onto your shoulder. You bite your lip, keeping your voice down, as if knowing you might be overheard, but not enough to keep him from hearing. You probably don’t realise just how close he is. He imagines biting the very same lip, imagines being the one whose fingers get to gently tease over your clit, rubbing delicately like you’re doing now. He tries his best to keep pace with you, but as your body writhes and arches away from the wall, his hand can’t but speed up a little. Your eyes flutter and a flush grows on your cheeks. He wishes he knew what you were thinking about. He’s pictured you thinking of him and calling his name so much that it echoes in his mind as if it’s a real memory. Your hand speeds up its motions and you gasp gently. If he really tries, he can distort the gasp to sound like his name. He tightens his grip around himself, fucking into his fist, picturing himself inside you. If he wanted to, he could materialise right now and take you, but he doesn’t, he knows he can’t. Still, his eyes are fixed on your cunt as he fucks his fist, a groan spilling from his lips. You echo him with a moan of your own, rubbing your fingers faster over yourself, back and forth or in circles, you’re going so fast he can’t even tell anymore. He pants your name like a prayer, staring straight into your hooded eyes. Every flutter of your eyes or twitch of your body makes him think you might have heard him, but you never do. He throws his head back against the cool tile, thrusting his hips forward in desperation as he sees you start to tremble. He knows you’re close, and he is too. Your hips rock, your free hand grabbing at your breast. He hears your high-pitched whines and sees as your legs shake, signalling the arrival of your orgasm. He gasps desperately, squeezing himself a little harder to push himself over the edge, watching as you pant and gasp, recovering. He groans loudly, his hips arching away from the wall, biting his lip as his release spills all over the shower floor with a few heavy splats.

He leans back against the cool tile, the feeling soothing his flushed skin. He pushes away some sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, watching as you rinse the conditioner from the ends of your hair, the room steaming back up again. His release, which you couldn’t see anyway, disappears down the drain. He watches it go, an odd feeling in his chest. He hates that you can’t acknowledge any of this, that you can’t know. That if you did know, you’d presumably push him away like before. He tucks himself away, watching as your fingers carve through the condensation on the glass wall. You often like to doodle there, often stars or hearts, occasionally a funny animal. He’s still recovering a little, not completely focused. His eyes follow you as you shut off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping up in your towel. You squeeze out some excess water from your hair into the sink and then, with an odd glance in the mirror, your eyes flickering around the room, you leave to get dressed in your bedroom. He walks over to see what you drew on the wall this time, a small smile on his face as he thinks of all the cute little doodles you’ve unknowingly left him over the last few months. He frowns, brows furrowing in shock and confusion, because this time, you’ve written a string of words.

“Fuck me next time,” the words drip slightly. His mind spins and he swallows thickly. There’s no mistaking that you’ve left this message on purpose. He approaches the steamy mirror, hoping the message will stay a little longer here rather than in the shower. He wants you to see it. He materialises just long enough to dance his finger over the cool condensation.

“I will,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The days pass like cold mud – slow, uncomfortable, and relentless.

But they do pass.

Eddie had said he could give Steve the time he needed, and he’d meant it; he would wait out the two weeks and be there on the other side to talk to him. To hope for a second chance.

They see each other here and there, mostly in passing: Steve comes to pick a few of the kids up from a gaming session; Eddie stops in at Family Video with Jeff, Gareth, and Oliver to grab a movie (where Jeff and Steve exchange a surprisingly friendly greeting); they occupy separate sides of the room at a group dinner.

Each time, Eddie is sure to at least acknowledge and wave at Steve, in spite of any protective hovering and scowling Robin might be doing if she happens to be present. Steve gives cautious nods in return at first, but as they near the deadline, he’s returning Eddie’s distant greetings with a hesitant smile and that ridiculous little finger-wiggle wave that Eddie had been reluctantly charmed by in the beginning.

And in the meantime, Eddie plots.

He is not, by nature, an optimist (strangely, between the two of them, that’s Steve’s area), but in this instance, he plans for the best: the idea that Steve will say yes and let Eddie take him on a proper date. And as improvisational as Eddie likes to be, he’s also a veteran dungeon master and plotter of all sorts of campaigns; if you want long-term plans to go off without a hitch, it pays to be prepared.

So, he plots.

He brainstorms and makes lists of all of Steve’s favorite things and schemes out elaborate romantic gestures and draws on all the knowledge he’s retained from the romcoms he’d whined about having to watch with Steve but had always given in over when Steve gave him that puppy-eyed look that Eddie has no defense against.

(And somehow, he’d continued to think they were just friends. His lack of awareness should be studied as a scientific anomaly.)

He thinks Steve would be proud of his accumulated work (and Eddie himself isn’t ashamed of it, but all the same, he makes sure to hide the notebook where none of the guys will ever, ever stumble across it, because they would never, ever let Eddie live it down).

In any case, the ticking down of two weeks finally comes to an end, and Eddie stands in front of the phone earlier than he’d normally care to be awake, hoping that his work will pay off.

Steve picks up before the fourth ring, just like he always does, and answers the phone like a dork, just like he always does.

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

This is where Eddie normally makes a joke – says he’d been trying for the funeral home and asks if Steve happens to have a shovel and some time on his hands; says he thought he’d had the number for the Hawkins Gentleman’s Club and asks if Steve is much of a dancer; once, he’d even affected a terrible New York accent and spun some lines about how he’d been trying to call a speakeasy. He can always hear the laughter caught behind Steve’s dry responses to his nonsense, and he always loves it.

But now is not “normally,” and Eddie only just manages to sound like himself as he replies, “Steve. Just the Harrington I was hoping would speak.”

“Eddie,” is all Steve says for a moment; he sounds almost surprised, but not displeased. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “So, I know punctuality has never been my strong suit, but it’s, uh. It’s been two weeks. Pretty much on the dot. And you said I should come talk to you again, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, did you – You can come over. If you want to talk, still,” Steve says – stammers, really, like he’s been caught off-guard, like he really hadn’t been expecting Eddie to call.

“Well, if I didn’t change my mind in two weeks, I’m not gonna change my mind in the fifteen minutes it takes to get to your house,” Eddie says.

“Sure,” Steve says, a little steadier now. “Yeah, I’ll see you in a bit, I guess.”

“You definitely will,” Eddie assures him. “See you in a bit, Steve.”

“Yeah. Yes. Bye, Eddie.”

It’s awkward, but – it’s something.

The only reason Eddie doesn’t break an egregious number of traffic laws on his way to Steve’s house is because he simply couldn’t bear the irony of getting arrested now, of all times. With his luck, he’d get sent up the river and Steve would be left waiting and waiting at his house before coming to the conclusion that Eddie had never really cared about him after all, only to be found surprised and jaded several years later when Eddie is finally released from prison and makes his first stop the Harrington house and – Christ, Eddie’s had romance on the brain too long. He’s going to have to binge reread Lord of the Rings or something to get his head back on straight.

He pulls his head out of the clouds and his van into the Harrington’s ridiculously massive driveway and heads up to the door with a vibrating surplus of energy sustained entirely by nerves and determination.

It seems like he’s not the only one running on anxiety power, though, based on how quickly the door opens after Eddie rings the bell.

It’s the first time Eddie’s really seen Steve up close since the trailer two weeks ago. He looks– better. He’s still tired, Eddie can tell; he’s got that slightly droopy look around his eyes and an almost painful set to his jaw that’s nearly impossible to spot if you don’t know what to look for – and most people don’t (but Eddie’s spent a lot of time learning Steve, even if he hadn’t picked up all the right tells). But he still looks better, and Eddie finds himself relieved.

“Hey, there,” he says, giving Steve a nod. “Just happened to be in the neighborhood, y’know. Thought I’d drop by.”

Steve shakes his head, a tiny smile quirking up at one corner of his mouth. “Come in, jackass.”

“Fine way to treat your guests,” Eddie drawls in return, gratified when Steve’s smile grows just a tiny bit more.

He takes off his shoes at the entryway (Steve hardly ever asks anyone to take off their shoes, because worrying about the state of your floors isn’t cool, but it bothers him all the same, and so Eddie takes them off) and follows Steve through to the living room, where they both perch awkwardly on the couch and sit in an equally awkward silence for about thirty seconds.

“So… you said I should come talk to you,” Eddie says finally.

“I did, yeah.” Steve nods.

“You said to tell you if this was still something I wanted,” Eddie goes on.

“I did, yeah,” Steve says again. “And… you’re here.”

“I told you I wouldn’t change my mind, Steve.” Eddie’s hand twitches, almost instinctively reaching out for a spot on Steve’s knee, or around his wrist, or threaded through his fingers, but he doesn’t think he can take Steve freezing up or pulling away again. “This – you, us – I still want it. I want to do it right. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to treat you how you should be treated.”

Steve nods. “Okay.”

Eddie blinks. “Okay? As in – just, yeah, okay?” He knows he’s not making much sense, but he’d been sort of prepared to have to make his case – to extol the virtues of the perfect dates he had planned, to sing the praises of all the things he knows now that he should appreciate about Steve, to lament the loss of trust and ease between them, but instead Steve is just sitting there, watching him with a funny sort of smile on his face.

“I was… I was never going to say no, Eddie.” Steve shrugs. “I just really needed you to think about it. To make sure this—a real relationship with… with me—is really what you wanted. Because if it’s not, if you took it back again, I don’t think I’d– I just really needed you to be sure.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, low and serious, “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. A real relationship with you is exactly what I want.”

Steve’s smile twitches, changes into something a little more familiar, a little warmer. “Okay.”

“You’re never gonna regret it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, can’t help bouncing a little in his seat as his nerves turn to excitement, to elation. “I have the corniest, most romantic dates planned, I swear, I’m going to knock your socks off. We’ll unlock your inner Molly Ringwald.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve shakes his head at Eddie. “You really don’t have to do all that. I’m not– putting you through a trial, or whatever, we can just go back to what we were doing, right? Just with… I dunno, more awareness.”

“Noooo, no.” Eddie shakes his head right back. “You said you didn’t want to pretend nothing ever happened, and you shouldn’t have to. I want to do this, Steve. Let me take you on a real date.”

Something unreadable flashes across Steve’s face, and suddenly his smile is wrong again. Sort of plastic – like he’s trying, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. But before Eddie can ask what’s wrong, Steve is shrugging.

“If you insist…”

“I most certainly do,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m gonna romance the shit out of you.”

At that, Steve releases a helpless snort of laughter, and the plastic smile is gone, blown away by a real one.

“You’re making a super good argument for it,” Steve says, and Eddie grins.

“Aren’t I?” He bats his eyelashes. “So tell me: you free on Friday night?”

“I’m working, actually. Someone has to dole out dumb romances to other people out on dates,” Steve says drily, as if he himself hasn’t seen most of the films he’s maligning.

Eddie hums. “Saturday?”

“I could probably get someone to cover my shift,” Steve hedges, teasing and flirty and everything Eddie’s missed in the last few weeks.

“So you’ll be free?” Eddie asks.

“As a bird – as long as that bird isn’t a robin, considering who’s going to have to cover for me,” Steve says, and Eddie pulls a grimace.

“Yeah, maybe don’t tell her why you need the shift covered. I get the feeling she wouldn’t be as agreeable if she knew I was involved,” he says.

“I don’t think Robin’s ever been agreeable in her life, and she’d probably resent the accusation.” Steve smirks. “But as long as she doesn’t think I’m sneaking away to see you, and if I take the Monday morning shift she really hates, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Let’s plan for Saturday?”

“Saturday it is!” Eddie pops up off the couch, both unwilling to sour the mood by overstaying his welcome, and suddenly overflowing with the need to set preparations in motion. “Six o’clock, sharp! I’ll pick you up.”

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Steve asks, one eyebrow cocked.

“Absolutely not. The surprise is part of the experience,” Eddie says.

“Dress code, at least?” Steve wheedles, and Eddie supposes that’s fair.

“Casual. And bring a jacket,” Eddie says.

Both of Steve’s brows go up now, as he rises from the couch to follow Eddie back out towards the door. “Telling someone to bring outerwear to a date is usually a red flag, man,” he says, watching as Eddie shoves his shoes back on.

“But you love being outside,” Eddie counters, glancing up at Steve with a grin.

“I,” Steve pauses, blinking at him. “I guess.”

“And no more hints,” Eddie says, rising from the floor and reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice warming around a small, pleased smile, “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Can’t wait.” Eddie throws one last grin at him before stepping out into the brisk, late fall air.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Part 7

-

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The tag list is full at this time, but I'll be posting this fic to Ao3 soon, so hopefully people can subscribe there if they want update alerts?

[blushweddinggowns]

 “So let me get this straight. You met a hot guy, conned him into a date with you, lied about who you were to get into his pants and still failed. Then kept going, bought a new phone and rented a fake apartment, fell in love him, continued this elaborate ruse for four months, and now you want me to figure out a way for you to get out of it?”

“...yes?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Chrissy nearly screeched into his ear, “That is what you have been doing? Have you lost your damn mind?!”

“Obviously, yes!” Eddie yelled right back, feeling fraught as hell. He was pacing back and forth, a cigarette in hand as he spoke, “I never planned on ending up here!”

“Really? Because this whole shit show seemed to need a lot of planning. Is this really what happens when I leave you unsupervised? I am never letting you out of the house again.”

Eddie was well aware he deserved the ribbing. He deserved much worse, but that didn’t change the fact that he was desperate, “Chris, I’m serious. I need help.”

“Eddie, I love you but come on. You need a plane ticket and an apology muffin basket and to move on. This guy doesn’t even know you.”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie said as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “It’s-okay. I’m still me with him. It’s like…I’m acting like who I would have been if I was never famous. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Have you tried delusional? Also, can I get a picture of this guy? How hot can one dude be to drive you-”

“I’m serious,” Eddie interupted, irritation coloring his voice, “I told him everything. The shit about my parents, Wayne, the drugs, you, everything.”

“You realize that everything would include your real name right? And again, a picture for the love of god would really help put this in perspective-”

“You know what I mean,” Eddie sighed. She still wasn’t getting it, “I’m in love with him. Like Chris, he was made for me. And if I had just stuck to tattooing instead of doing the music shit then I’m pretty sure he’d think the same of me.”

He could hear a small intake of breath on her end, her voice coming out a bit more concerned than before, “Eds, are you serious?”

“Dead. I… I think he’s the one,” No, that was another lie. Eddie took a deep breathe before admitting the truth, “He is the one. And… I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.”

“Honey, it’s an infatuation. A really, really strong one, but still-”

“Chrissy. Listen to me. I want to marry him. Do you understand me now?”

If that didn’t get through to her nothing else would. Because Chrissy Cunningham had spent hours upon hours of listening to Eddie complain about the institution of marriage since fucking highschool. How it was all a farce, just some bullshit people pulled for tax reasons and patriarchal idealism. And now here he was, fucking day dreaming about the perfect happily ever after with the love of his life. 

“Oh Jesus,” Chrissy groaned, the sineritcy Eddie was looking for finally creeping into her voice, “Sweetie, I’m so sorry… but I think you might have fucked yourself too big on this one.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Eddie pleaded into the phone, like Chrissy actually had all the power in the world to fix this, “What if I just lead a double life? Couldn’t that work?” 

He had seen a movie about that once or twice. It was a thing. Or if it wasn’t then he could make it one.

But Chrissy didn’t seem too convinced, “Eddie, honey, you’re describing the plot of Hannah Montana like it can actually be a solution. Do you realize how insane that is? Do you not get how far you’ve fallen?”

from the next chapter of this fic

[chronicbeans]

Platonic Alastor x Maladaptive Daydreamer Reader

Hehe not me self-projecting again! Anyways, these are kinda based on my own experiences, but I'm trying to make them more generalized.

TW: Maladaptive daydreaming, escapism, dissociation, mentions of depression and anxiety, brief mentions of compulsive behavior/OCD, invasion of privacy, manipulation, peer pressure, yandere-ish behavior (I believe he defaults to those behaviors, no matter the type of relationship), mention of cannibalism (this is Alastor we're talking about...), Alastor is a shitty toxic friend in this

• He's absolutely fascinated by the way your mind works. Even before he knows what is going on, or begins to get close to you, he can tell you are an interesting person. The way you look so distant, like your mind is checked out and flying to far off places without you, is something he hasn't seen before. He wants to pick and prod at your brain to see what's going on.

• He doesn't want to do so the easy way, though. No. Instead, he wants to drag out this process for as long as possible, and make sure you twist and squirm all the while. He loves to make people uncomfortable, after all! That's his specialty, in his opinion, besides his radio show.

• He'll start off with introductions, of course, which is probably when he first got interested in you. That dreamy look isn't so easy to see from a distance, after all. The second he looked into your eyes while shaking your hand, though, it became obvious. How hadn't he seen it before? If he saw this look when he first entered, he would've talked to you first out of the crew at the Hazbin Hotel. Well, besides Charlie... But, that's just because she owns the place.

•The uncomfortable prodding starts in an instant. One of his first questions after getting your name is not "What made you want to come to the hotel?" or "What can you provide to help the hotel?" It's more like "How did you die?", "What are your major vices?", and "What sin have you committed to be brought to Hell?" He wants to test the waters. See what he can get away with without completely scaring you off. If you run away and avoid him, it'd be harder to learn what he wants, and make you uncomfortable while doing so.

• Regardless of whether or not you answer, you are probably a little put off from him. Not enough to completely avoid him, since you can see how some of those questions might help him help the hotel, but enough to be uncomfortable... Which, in his opinion, is perfect!

• He's great at hiding, so if you start noticing him mentioning things you thought were private, you really shouldn't be surprised. He can, quite literally, hide in the shadows at times. He quickly takes notes of your little habits, including ones you might be embarrassed about.

• He may watch you pacing around your room, mumbling to yourself as if you are playing pretend all alone. Or, maybe, he's hiding over your shoulder while you're writing down some elaborate storyline. Perhaps he's watching you in plain sight, seeing you make a bunch of odd facial expressions at seemingly nothing. He may not know why you do this, but he wants to. He would've suspected some sort of substance use, considering it's Hell. Lots of people do so. However, he's never seen you near anything that would cause such behavior. So, that's off his list, for now.

• So, step 2 of his plan begins! As his good ol' pals Husk and Niffty to try befriending you! Or, at the very least, get information from you that you aren't comfortable telling him. Then, have them report back to him with their findings. Of course, Husk seems agitated by the request, but obliges. Niffty seems more than happy to do as he asks, though. A happy worker is a good worker, so he has more hope in Niffty getting the big story than Husk.

• Surprisingly, though, he's proven wrong. The most Niffty got was your fashion sense, favorite types of stories, and that you are very "quiet". Yes, the fashion and types of stories were new to him... But what he seems important, the reason you act so oddly, isn't there. Husk, however, was able to get a lot more out of you, somehow.

• Husk mentions you talking to him, one night, after he saw you skipping oddly down the hall and pass the bar where he was cleaning the glasses before closing it for the night. You seemed extremely embarrassed to have been seen, mentioning that you thought he was asleep already. He then just, politely asked a few questions...? And got answers? How?

• Alastor immediately demands answers, only for Husk to reply "I don't know how to describe it like they did! Most I understood is that they daydream too much. Seems like it's a constant thing going on. They like to pace and prance while doing so, sometimes, but don't like getting caught."

• Now it begins to make more sense... the writing, the talks about stories with Niffty, the prancing and pacing... and most importantly, that dreamy, distant look you have. He can even see why you'd make odd expressions. You're reacting to your own thoughts... He doesn't understand it. He's never heard of anything like this before, especially during his time as a human, but he can tell one thing for certain: You must be his friend, now. Whether you like it or not.

• You are so different from everyone else he's met, you see, and he loves things that go against the norm. Now, while you may or may not be considered normal or not too different by others, you're different and abnormal to him. You somehow succeed in both being polite, smart, and funny to mess around with, while also barely being able to pay attention to the world around you. He's always thought that those two things were mutually exclusive. How can you learn when you can't stop being in your own head? How can someone be polite and not listen? The funny part, though... He can kind of see that. He finds surprising you be sneaking up behind you and tapping your shoulder funny every now and again. Nevertheless, you are going to be his friend.

• Soon enough, you notice his behavior changing, a bit. Less following you around, less vaguely threatening words, and more... quiet. It's eerie, coming from him. However, you also notice him trying to talk to you about stories and books he's heard and read. Even things he's heard during his human life, such as Creole folktales and other stories he's heard in New Orleans, Louisiana back in the 1920s-1930s. It's a bit like a completely different side to him you never expected to see, and never really wanted to, but you aren't really complaining. It's better than him deciding to terrorize you for fun and him asking invasive questions...

• A little more time passes and he decides to ask about small habits, disguising them as him just now noticing those habits, when he's probably noticed them while spying on you months prior. Nothing too extreme. Mostly just your expressions, how it seems like your attention is somewhere else... Nothing like your pacing, prancing, or acting. He wants to establish that he knows about these tiny little things, and now that you're more comfortable with him, you're much more likely to answer. That way, once he moves onto the bigger, more personal questions, you'll already have been eased into feeling comfortable with it.

• Eventually, you get to the point where you feel comfortable calling him a friend. He's already considered you one since that conversation with Husk, but it's a start. Now, he's gotten the lovely privilege of being able to know more about what's going on in that lovely little brain of yours... well, "little" brain is definitely an understatement. From how you describe your imagination, he'd be led to believe your mind must be as vast as the Library of Alexandria.

• Vast worlds, complicated plotlines, complex characters... you talk of odd tales you've created, all in your brain. Ones you've had in your mind for years, some you came up with on a whim, and others, still, that are still being developed. Stories that have been being created over the span of real life years, ones you started then dropped... All of which are being held in your head, with only a miniscule fraction of it being written onto paper. He's truly impressed, genuinely respecting your odd talent, as he sees it. You've perfected the craft of creativity, while he's perfected the art of talking to an audience. Even better, is that he got to learn whether or not his theory of you taking inspiration from stories you've heard was right. Which explains his sudden mentions of stories he's heard in life.

• Now... if only you'd let him tell some of your stories on his radio show! If you wouldn't like that, then he'd probably ask you to write something for his show. That way, it isn't as personal to you, and you wouldn't even need to be credited if you're embarrassed by it! He could just say a random listener sent it in, and he thought it'd be great to read, to show his appreciation for his adoring fans. The world simply must hear the greatness of your mind, dear, and he is not going to stop annoying politely asking you to write something until you do.

• Another thing he might try is to see if he can figure out why you partake in this little habit of yours. He's never heard of it, though he has asked some sinners and demons if they have. Be it Charlie, Angel Dust, some of the other overlords, or a friend of his we haven't seen or heard of, before. More modern sinners keep mentioning a thing called Maladaptive Daydreaming, describing it as a symptom of other mental health diagnoses... but that's the problem. That fits you, you've mentioned that you know of that and it fits you... but that's also just a symptom. Well, a few argue that it may be its own thing, but it is not an official diagnosis yet. So, for now, he wants to figure out why you do it.

• Is it depression? Anxiety? Do you really want to escape from something, and you're doing so by hopping into that little dream land of yours? Is it some sort of compulsion? You seem to not really be able to control it that well, after all, and others have mentioned links to OCD, as well as other disorders that can cause compulsions. Is it sheer, absolute, chronic boredom? Speak to him, dear! What is it? Do you even know? If not, he'll assume it's the boredom option... for now.

• He's obsessed with you, really. You're his friend, and he's very obsessive over them, in his own way. He is as far away from normal when it comes to showing real affection for others, which wouldn't be bad, if it weren't for the fact that a main part of it is him being absolutely suffocating when he's around. That, and he can be terrifying... He's the Radio Demon, after all! It's just worse for you than his other friends, though, because you are different. Being different is a really important thing for him, really, alongside being polite, smart, and funny. Not required, unlike the last three traits, but it makes you more likely to be his friend. You hit the lottery by achieving being all four, but it must be the worst lottery prize in the world.

• He holds the thought that you should just be friends with him. Now, you don't have to be... but, he'd prefer it. If you really want outside friends, sure! You just can't be friends with his other friends. He claims they'd "taint" you with how violent they can be. Plus, since he's friends with other cannibals, some of which do serve sinner and demon meat to others without telling them, he genuinely does worry about your safety and wellbeing if you met those specific friends of his. For your friends, he wants to meet them. He needs to in order to deem them worthy of being your friend, and to make sure it's not someone he knows and is friends with. You deserve perfection, and who knows perfection better than Alastor, yes? After all, he can see that you're perfect. That is more than enough evidence, dear.

• You're one of the few people who he doesn't mind having your attention not on him. Part of your charm, in his opinion, is your lack of attention. All he asks is that you tell him about a story of yours. What is going on in your head that's so important? Oh, a great war between this and that? A psychological horror? Cities beneath the sea? Tell him about it. He finds it fun! Especially if he can see any possible inspiration from events or other stories. He likes to hear your voice almost as much as he likes to hear his own, which you'll realize is more of a compliment than it might sound like, once you truly get to know him.

[igotanidea]

Home : bat!family x bat!sister

Summary: no one gets to offend my siblings and father. No one but me. I'll make sure of it.

***

Maybe it was a bad idea to apply for that Erasmus program and leave her brothers and adoptive father alone for whole three months. Sure, studying abroad, expanding knowledge, learning language and customs was an amazing experience, but it came with the cost. The price of being in fear that her family would get themselves in trouble, pain, fight they could not recover from.

The first two weeks of her adventure was the worst, since she was waking up at most random night hours, ready to jump into fight, those vigilantes instincts and habits kicking in.

Those were the nights when she was turning and tossing in her bed unable to close an eye and in result sneaking out her dorm room and walk around the campus like the ghost. The quietness and peacefulness of her surroundings at the academy were so different from those she knew in Gotham, it was almost disturbing.

There was no denying that Y/N was the smartest in the family, even Tim admitted it once (obviously not while talking to her, but she overheard his conversation with Bernard) but at times like this she was second-guessing her choices.

Due to her specific upbringing and family background she also never managed to form any deep connection with her fellow students, preferring to stay by herself, focus on the task and putting a lot of work into expanding her knowledge and skills in technology. She never complained, but from other people’s perspective she was an eremite. Kind, polite with perfect manners when someone asked her for something or while working in group, but still highly reserved. Just like her adoptive father, whose relation to she was trying to keep a secret. And it worked up to the day when one of the lecturers accidentally called her  “Miss  Wayne” in front of the whole class. The second he did it the air in the auditorium froze. She might have been in different country, but for God’s sake she was studying technology, of course everyone heard about the Wayne Enterprises and the  Bruce Wayne.

“You’re his daughter?” one of the boys in the lower row turned around and eyed her suspiciously

“Yes. Adoptive one.”

“Of course. He’s well known for taking kids in, right? Seems like some sort of complex or maybe even a disease” he smirked and it made the girl clench her fist. Her relationship with Bruce might have been rocky, but no one except her and her brothers were allowed to judge and offend him.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” she hissed, eyeing the guy with ice cold gaze

“Miss Y/L/N! Mister Olsen! Please calm down and sit down!” the teacher tried to make up for his mistake but it was far too late for that.

“You misspelled my name once, might as well keep calling me Wayne now.”  the tone of her voice matched the gaze. She was not going to let the guy easily, but getting in trouble with the dean was not a part of her plan. “Now, can we continue with the lecture? I don’t know about anyone else in her, but speaking for myself I would love to actually learn something useful.”

***

Y/N was the middle child. Younger than Dick and Jason, older than Tim and Damian which placed her literally halfway  in the family. Because of that she was a mix of responsibility and carelessness, doing her own thing, not always the right way, but still capable of getting away with a lot more than the others. Not as family oriented as Dick, feeling a bit overshadowed by Jason, highly competitive with Tim and more independent and individualistic than Damian. Still, even despite her “boss bitch” attitude, she was sandwiched between her brothers which made her the best negotiator and mediator in the family. Y/N also had a strong sense of fairness and morality and would always try her best to do the right things. Objectively, not subjectively. And making fun of her family was not one the things she could forget. However, before taking any action she had to gather intel, figure out what the guy knew and then come right at him.

***

Waiting till the end of the class was probably the greatest torture she ever had to endure, every minute stretching into infinity and when it was over the sense of relief almost made her drop the plan. Almost.

“I’m not done with you, Olsen.” she was faster to the door, stopping her potential victim from getting away.

“You want more, Wayne?”

“Please. Hit me with your best shot. What is your problem with my family, exactly?”

“Let me think” he tapped his chin. “There are so many. Like for instance, your oldest brother. What was his name again? Oh, right! Dick. Suits him quite well, doesn’t it. A prick, if you ask me. Definitely a show-off with no skills.” He scoffed “Shall I continue?”

“ Please. You got like three more people to gossip about.”

“The second in line, Jason, right? Oh, the unhinged  one. Violent, mocking, thinking he is better than anyone else around, when in reality he’s just a lost, scared child. Probably a dumbass too.”

“Pretty sure he would agree with that. Now what about Tim and Damian?”

At this point Olsen was getting a bit surprised that the girl in front of him was still unfazed. Her calmness, a sign of silent inside fury making him slightly uncomfortable.   Not enough to stop however.

“Drake…..” the name rolled of his tongue while the boy was wondering what words to choose “oh, he’s the gay one, right? Such a shame that the renowned Wayne family has someone like that as a member. Bet your father would never take him in, if he knew. A fairy becoming the next CEO of his renowned company. How ironic!”

“Hm.” Oh, Y/N was so much like Bruce at times and it showed in the least expected moments.

Damn that girl! How could it not make her angry?

“And …… Damian, the only biological child. Absolutely maladjusted and unaware of social norms and boundaries. Tell me, how was it like to have your youngest brother violate your boundaries and personal space?”

“It was. ….educatory. Just like it was with everything you just said. You presented yourself as someone with some serious psychological issues and possibly an unhealthy interest in my family’s life. So thank you, it truly was illuminating.”

***

“What the hell did you do Y/N?” a very alerted Dick appeared  on the other side of the screen

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” The girl sighted and fell onto the cushions bringing the computer onto her lap to see her brother better

“Don’t lie to me now, sis.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Bruce has been on the phone for the last fifteen minutes and from what I figured it’s about something that happened on the campus.”

“The only thing happening on the campus are students who skip classes.” She mumbled “maybe except that one time when one of the boys lost some stupid bet and blew up the fountain as some sort of punishment. That was funny.”

A little grunt was heard on Dick’s side and for a second he disappeared from the screen.

“Dick?”

“Sorry, I had a little interruption.” He rubbed his forehead “Now, back onto what you did…..”

“Did you say that someone blew the fountain?” third face appeared on the screen in the corner, taking over the conversation.

“Hello, Jason.”

“Hi sis. Maybe I should have joined you in your academic career. Seems like you have a lot of fun there. Besides, I never really finished school, since you know…. I died.”

“We know.” Y/N and Dick said in unison

“Always a good opportunity to remind you, right?” he grinned “Now, sis, tell me, how was it going full rogue on fellow student? I gotta admit I’m proud of you here.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Dick’s eyes grew wider than ever “I;m gonna ask you once again, Y/N. what did you do?”

“Nothing permanent.”

“What…..?”

“Cut her some slack, Grayson.”

“Look who decided to join us.” Y/N smirked “improved your computer skills much, Damian?”

“I got tired of being left out.”

“Since when do you care about the group?”

“Leverage, sis. Knowledge is power, I thought you knew that.”

“Ok, that is enough!” Dick finally lost his patience “I’m trying to have a conversation with my little sis here. Both of you, get out of the line!”

“Mhm, keep dreamin’ Dickhead.”

“For once I agree with Todd.”

“You have no right to…..”

“Guys…..” Y/N tried to mitigate them, but deep inside she enjoyed their bantering. It was a while since she experienced it and only now realized how familiar it was.

“I was here first!” Dick yelled “And I’m the oldest”

“No one cares Grayson! You are a Bludhaven resident now.  Just because you visit the manor does not mean you can keep Y/N busy using the wayne’s devices!”

“Don’t you have someone to kill in the crime alley, Jay?”

“Unlike you, I succeeded in all my latest missions.”

“Is that what you call coming back to your safe house bloodied and injured. You were on the verge of death!” Damian smirked “you were absolutely inept, that’s not a success.”

“You were what, now?!” Y/N shrieked. Her second oldest brother was sometimes too careless.

“It was not that bad, Y/N, I swear. And how the fuck do you know about it, demon?”

“I have my ways.”

“I would suspect Drake of spying on me, but you?”

“Speaking of the devil, I’m surprised Tim hasn’t already join us.” Dick muttered

“Oh, he did.” Y/N pointed out

“WHAT?” her brothers cried. Now there was another one fighting for her attention and it was not a secret that Tim was her favorite making the situation harder.

“I did.” Tim chuckled  “Well, to tell the truth Y/N let me in the channel. We have our ways with technology. Something none of you could ever fully understand. “

“Of course not….”

“Cheer up, Dami. You can’t monopolize all the areas.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Ok, everyone hold up here. I think we lost the point of the conversation. The thing was that Bruce was on the phone, probably taking to the dean about….”

“Y/N played a little prank on her classmate, is that right?” of course Tim was the one who everything best.

 “He deserved it.”

“Y/n…..”

“Stop using the big brother voice on me! It’s not going to work!”

“How about we use Damian’s youngest one?” Dick teased

“I refuse to be used in this….”

“SHUT UP DAMIAN!” Dick and Jason shouted together and shared a murderous look between one another. Now they were both desperate to find out what happened since Tim would rather die than spill the bean. It was infuriating. They were the older brothers! This had to mean something.

“Ok, that’s it.” Damian stood up and the view of the empty chair in the place where his face should be was highly disturbing.

“That is not good.” Y/N said out loud something that all of them already knew. Her presumptions turned out to be right a second later when the shouting and yelling reverberated through the speakers and a blur of black and green rushed into Dick’s room.

“hey, I want to join the fight too!” Jason started up and with a speed, Wally West could be jealous of involved in the mix of limbs and screams.

“Wait! I though Dick was in Bludhaven! Tim?”

“Not today. We’re all in the manor.”

“And you idiots were talking to me through four different computers?”

“Are you actually surprised?”

“On second thought, not at all.” She sighed. It’s a good thing you are the reasonable one here…..”

“There you are, Timmy” now the situation has turned as it was Dick who appeared in the door of Tim’s bedroom “you are not  getting out of this. If you want Y/n to yourself you have to fight me.”

“And me!” Jason tackled Dick to the ground with a loud thump

“Losers!” Damian jumped over their bodies and came right at Tim

Because of their actions, Y/N was the only one who noticed two men stepping from the shadows and exchanging some words. Apparently Bruce wasn’t capable of putting the boys in their places and asked Alfred to try this instead. And a single grunt from the butler did a miracle as all of them stood up and started explaining and apologizing. Funny as it was, Y/N knew that with Bruce’s arrival she was heading straight towards preaching from her father.

“Y/N.”

“Hello Bruce.”

“Did you break his arm?”

“You broke his arm?” Dick was halfway out but turned back immediately

“No.” Y/n shook her head “I broke his arm and hurt his legs.”

“Don’t forget that you also demolished his dorm room.”

“That wasn’t me. That was….”

“Did you go at him as a vigilante? Wow! Way to go, sis. Now I truly am proud of you.”

“Ok, both of you, out!” Bruce lost the rest of his patience pushing Dick and Jay away. “Now that we are alone…….” he sighed deeply closing the door tight  

“I;m not sorry.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m not mad, because I’m sure you had a reason to do it. So tell me, why?”

“you…. you want to know ?”

“Of course. Look Y/n, I’m aware I won’t get  a father of the year cup from you, but I care all right? Did that boy hurt you and you took retaliation? Just tell me….”

“He was talking shit about our family.”

“And you felt the urge to protect the Wayne’s honor?” Bruce smirked “this is so not like you.”

“Honor, my ass. We’ve lost that ages ago, Bruce. The only thing I was protecting was my sole privilege of mocking you. No one else is allowed to do it.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell your brothers that you miss them. “

“That would be most welcome.”

“And you have to know that we don’t miss you either, y/n.” father and daughter’s gazes met and they both nodded in silent agreement, right corners of their mouths lifting almost unnoticeable. “You coming to visit next week?”

***

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong and that tingling sensation became unbearable the second she climbed the manor’s stairs and reach for the doorknob with a heartrate so fast it would send anyone else straight into cardiac arrest. Y/N however kept her cold blood, focusing on what may happened inside and considering her options and strategies for a potential fight.

She could not expect  that the moment she opened the door four figures would jump out from the shadows making the noise that would bring the dead from behind the grave. It startled her and as a result she stumbled back, hitting the wardrobe and making it shake. She could not expect that on said wardrobe there would be packets and packets of paint and that those would fall down straight on her making her look like some abstractionism painting.

“I hate you all.” She muttered while her brothers run away in four different directions.

“Welcome home, miss Y/N” Alfred approached her with a tissue so she could at least wipe the paint from her eyes.

“Home.” She whispered “Yes, it definitely feels like it.”

It was good to be back.

But she was still going after them. .....

Later. When they would least expect it.

[elusive---ivory]

Could you possibly write a yandere villain x soft reader fic or headcanons?

Yandere!Villain x Soft!Reader

Omg!! my first request!!! Yes! I absolutely love soft reader so much!!

The Villain loses every time. He loses everything to the Hero of the story. Over and over again. He comes up with very elaborate schemes and evil plans that cannot fail, then the Hero foils his plans. He gets angry. 'How does the Hero do it?' he thinks to himself. The only thing keeping him from winning is the Hero in the end.

Obsessing over and over at what else would work. He goes into civilian life. That's when he finds you. A soft, quiet being who is handing out flyers from your workplace. The Villain doesn't notice you at first. He bumps into you, spilling your flyers everywhere. When the two of you lock eyes, it's like sparks go off in his evil little mind.

If the Hero always gets the girl, why can't the Villain get the girl too? The next time there's a high-stakes robbery, you are in his line of sight. He bolts towards you, shielding you from any damage. He's never sought to protect someone before. He's glad that person is you.

Whether you're oblivious or not, you notice things in Villain's behavior that might seem quite odd, but you grow to love those things about him. He complains a lot about the city, and he wants to improve himself. However, his set role as the Villain has him stuck in his ways.

But, he sees you as an exception. He's head over heels for your kind nature. It almost rubs off on him when you notice how kind he was being to a random stranger. His villainous ways were almost eradicated.

Until Hero got involved. The Hero didn't seem to approve of this sudden relationship. The Villain's tendencies started to creep through. He started plotting more ways to get rid of Hero for good. You became concerned for Villain's mental health. He had spent weeks planning a way to kill the Hero of the city. He had never gone that far in the past, but you were special to him. He needed to keep you safe, even if it meant getting rid of the savior of the story.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: You'll get even... This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 25: I’ll Get Even With You

Thursday, November 25th, 1976

The boys had walked you through their plan step by step, it wasn’t going to be easy, and it required a lot of technical skill to be performed, but it wasn’t impossible. You gave them a few suggestions here and there, you yourself had already been pondering different revenge ideas in your head and together you managed to come up with a rather elaborate but hopefully foolproof plan. 

Remus and you would work on the potions since you were best at them, and you would prepare them that very night, since, as Sirius said “There is no time to lose, we need to strike and we need to strike fast. They must know it’s retaliation for what they did.” 

James and Sirius would be in charge of charms, spells and hexes, and Peter would do recognizance, making sure the coasts were clear before you snuck inside the Slytherin common room to prepare every single one of the things you had in store. 

The planning job they had executed so far was truly astounding, and if this level of meticulous preparation was standard for all their pranks, it was no wonder they were renowned for their incredible feats. Clearly, this wasn't just some fleeting idea that had occurred to them in the shower; it had been meticulously crafted. It bordered on madness and teetered on the edge of hazardous. The exhaustive list of steps might have deterred even the bravest Gryffindor, and yet, despite all these elements, there was an undeniable thrill to it, an unmistakable, electrifying excitement that pulsed through every aspect of the plan. 

As you looked at the list of steps, you marked all the things that you’d be doing, you had to memorise it and burn the page after. You had to leave “no evidence,” Peter had whispered. 

One time he had been caught with one of the plans and everyone had been put in detention for an entire month, from that moment on, they had made one of the key steps of all of their plans to memorise everything. You thought it made sense and started to drill all the steps in your mind, even the ones that didn’t concern you, just in case. 

By midday, and as you were walking alongside the boys towards Magical Theory, you had already memorised and burned the parchment the boys had given you. James, Sirius and Remus had their heads so close together as they were whispering about. Peter was right in front of them, he decided he’d walk all the way to your class even if he had to be late to his own.  And you? You were right in the middle of them all. Sirius had grabbed you by your good arm and pulled you in closer gently so you could be part of the conversation. 

It was weird, to be in the planning rather than just a spectator from the side, giving them enough space to discuss their things as you always had. But not anymore, even Peter had been welcoming and willing to let you in on absolutely every single detail of the plan. Yes, it might have been a little different, but it was definitely the good kind of different, you liked being a part of it. Even more now, since it was your own little revenge. 

Of course, you wouldn’t do something that would really harm the Slytherins, not like they had done to you at least. You were aware neither of them knew about Remus, so when they threw you in the Shrieking Shack, they really had attempted nothing more than to give you the hell scare of your life. “The most haunted house in England”, one of them had said. 

The only person that actually knew about Moony was Severus, and even if he had been a total asshole, he had also gone and told Lily about it, which had ultimately saved your life, since she had been the one to tell the boys. Either way, he could have also stopped them from being stupid and suggested a different thing, but he did not, so the fact that you had almost gotten bitten by Moony was also his fault. Which was exactly why he wouldn’t get scot-free either.

Even if the Shrieking Shack had actually just been a haunted house, the worst thing they had done, would have been the fact that they pushed you around, hexed you a couple of times, manhandled and threatened you, which is nothing they wouldn’t have done in the school, so you all had to carefully plan something that held the perfect balance. 

The prank couldn’t be too dark or harmful, just enough to teach them a lesson, so that they learned that throwing people in haunted houses and attempting to scare this shit out of one of them was a dreadful thing to do.  Which is why your prank had mainly consisted of something of the same nature. 

“So you’ll talk to him about it?” Peter asked. 

“Yes, I think I can convince him.” 

“You sure?” James asked, “It’s pivotal for the plan that we get help from one of the–” 

“–Yes, I’m sure. Most of them already know what happened, Myrtle ran her mouth through their own little circle.” 

“Thought you were friends with her,” Peter said. 

“I’m as much of her friend as you can be,” you said with a shrug “but only the close circle knows, and I asked her earlier today to give him a message, I’ll meet him later near the Perfect Bathrooms, I’ve heard they’re empty rather often.” 

“You can meet him inside if you want, I’ll give you the password,” Remus offered. 

“She can’t meet him inside the bathrooms, it’d be inappropriate!” Peter argued. 

“How would it be inappropriate Wormmy?”

“Well you know, people might talk and…” 

“As if Myrtle didn’t spend half the time there too,” Remus huffed.

“But that’s–“ 

“Hold up! How do you know Myrtle spends half the time there?” you asked, looking at Remus in disbelief. 

“Well, I’ve seen her there, plenty of times, logically.” 

“While… bathing?” you asked again, rather hesitant. 

“She can be very meddlesome, yeah.” 

“And she’s never told me?!” 

“Didn’t you say you weren’t that close?” Sirius said, arching an eyebrow. 

You weren’t really listening “Oh Godric! The gossip she must have seen in those bathrooms.” 

Remus turned to you now “What do you think happens in those bathrooms?” 

“What do you think doesn’t? Unsupervised, private bathrooms the older students have access to?” 

“Oh…” Remus said in realisation. 

Sirius nodded “Yeah, I can confirm things happen there,” he said casually. You gasped and swatted him in the side, it was as if he had forgotten he was talking to his girlfriend with whom he had not gone to the bathrooms… yet. “From hearing about it,” he clarified, at least an octave higher as he rubbed the section you had hit him on. Drama queen, you thought, didn’t even hit him half hard. 

“So… you want the password?”

You thought about it for a second “Yeah… I guess it comes in handy, just in case…” you said. Sirius gave you a suggestive look. 

“Ugh mate, at least try and keep it in your pants!” James said, pushing Sirius to the side, causing you to tumble against Remus’ chest, who held you in place and arched an eyebrow as he looked at you from his higher stance, he seemed amused. 

“For the prank!” you clarified as if it were obvious. 

Remus nodded, the same amused look as earlier, Godric was it fun to tease you, even if the reason you were getting red for was Sirius and not himself. You were blushing, becoming shyer the wider he smirked. You pushed yourself off him, which had his little smile falter even if it was just for a second. “If you boys keep being gross about this whole thing I’ll just go hang out with Lily instead.” 

“You can’t, we’ve got class together,” James said, placing his arm over your shoulder “and whether you like it or not, you’re my partner.” You gave an exaggerated groan in response, tilting your head back just a little to make it seem more dramatic. “Oi! I’m not that bad!” 

“You talk about Lily all the time, and since your date is on Saturday I can’t imagine how much you will–“ 

“–Righ! you need to help me with the planning of that too!” He said taking his arm off your shoulder and turning to you excitedly. 

“But that plan is already done…” 

“But what will I say if–“ 

Sirius came over now, placing his arms over your shoulder “Mate, if you need her to tell you what to do in every single situation, why not let her go on the date with Lily instead?” 

“She’s your girlfriend!” James said scandalised. 

“Wouldn’t mind sharing her with Evans,” Sirius responded with a shrug which had you laughing, “she’s nice, they’d make a hot couple, actually,” the boy added, just to see James’ reaction. 

“Don’t you dare come seduce my future wife!” he said, turning to you with a threatening finger and in a playful tone. 

“As much as I’m into redheads, Lilly is most definitely just a friend,” you responded. 

“What do you mean you’re into redheads?” Sirius asked, turning to you a little shocked. 

You just shugged, “Red hair is really pretty…” 

“But I… I thought that… You said I was your type!” 

You shook your head with a teasing smile “You said you were my type Puppy.” 

Sirius seemed taken aback, but that was right, he really had been the one to say that Remus wasn’t your type because he was, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as his confident expression faltered, which had you suppress a giggle “So you like redheads then?” he said a little defensively “next thing I know you’ll come around telling me you’re also into sexy werewolves.” 

Remus almost choked on the piece of chocolate he was munching, but he played it off with a cough, you just gave Sirius a diverted look “Puppy,” you said with a raised eyebrow “Are you jealous ‘cause I said I’m into redheads?” 

“Of course not,” he said, “Why don’t you go and flirt with one of the Weaslys then?” 

You just laughed, you had no idea who the hell he was talking about since Arthur had graduated a couple of years before you even got into the school, and his younger brother was in 2nd (you had yet to meet him). “Sirius,” you said, calling his attention by leaning in to whisper in his ear “I might be into redheads, but I still like you better than any of ‘em.” 

Sirius almost went red, for a second, but got back on his feet faster than he faltered, and turned to you with a smirk “Well of course you do Starshine,” he said cockily, “After all you’ve got the hottest boyfriend in the entire school.” 

You, along with the boys, laughed at Sirius’ antiques. But she really does, Remus thought as he chuckled and extended his hand with the chocolate towards you, you took a square and bit half of it off before feeding the rest to Sirius. Remus swallowed, wondering if he could be happy with this. With just being a part of it by sticking to the two of you like he was doing then. He wondered if he would be able to survive the heartache whenever he was consumed by greed and desire to have one of you. Whenever he felt like he had to stop being a spectator and take part in the story instead. He shook that thought off his head, he had to focus on the prank now, that was the priority. 

Once near the classroom, Peter waved goodbye, walking to his class while you entered yours. You and James sat behind Sirius and Remus, and while you did attempt to work on your project, in the end, you had spent most of the time going over the plan with James. He had it all perfectly memorised, and he was now telling you how Remus and Sirius would sneak into the library to get the book with the charms they’d be practising all night while you and Remus prepared the special potions you’d be using later that day. 

“So they’ll use the map to sneak in and…” 

“What map?” you asked “Did Remus make more maps for the rest of the passages?”

“Oh well…” James seemed at a loss of words, then leaned down to talk to the boys, you arched an eyebrow, but watched as they whispered about. “Can we tell Vixen about the map?” 

“Yeah, she’ll see it when we go make the potions anyway,” Remus said. 

“I trust her,” Sirius said with a shrug. 

“Of course you do tosser, she’s your girlfriend,” James said with an eye roll “I trust her too, but what about Peter?” 

“I don’t think he’ll mind…” Remus said. 

“You don’t?!” Sirius asked, “He can be touchy as hell sometimes.” 

“But he likes her,” James added, more convincing himself than the rest, “I’ll tell her about it.” 

Finally, you leaned in, having your head almost bump into Remus’ who was sitting in front of you “Tell me about what?” you asked teasingly. 

Remus smiled, “Oh you’ll see,” he responded mischievously “I’ll tell you all about it later.” 

“Mr. Potter, and company,” you heard the voice of the teacher booming in your direction. “Would you mind telling me what’s so important that Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black have to say that you’re not focusing on your work instead?” 

“Sorry Professor,” you apologised. “I was just asking Remus about a particular charm he’s really good at, and we need to use it for our project. James was trying to listen in since both of us will be performing it and Sirius was just trying to help us out as well,” then you flashed the most charming and apologetic smile you could muster. 

“Well then, you should have told me earlier,” he said “Why don’t you guys move your chairs around so you can focus on your conversation better, instead of leaning down over your desks like that?” 

“That would be delightful! Thank you, Professor,” you said with another smile as motioned for Remus and Sirius to stand up as you flicked your want to move their chairs towards you.

“Ugh, you really need to teach me your ways,” Sirius said as he stared at you “I swear I’m charming but… he would’ve eaten me up had I tried something like that.” 

You looked over at the Professor, at the way he held himself “Nah, I’m sure you would’ve convinced him with one of those flashy smiles of yours,” you said with a shrug, “Even James would have convinced him.” 

“Way to leave Moony out,” the boy said with a low whistle that earned him a kick from Sirius, for making so much noise. 

“Thought it was obvious, Remus would’ve convinced him before I even attempted to do it, Professors love him to dеath.” 

“What?! that’s not–“ Remus started. 

Sirius and James interrupted him “Yes it is!” 

In the end, you went over the steps of the plan one more time before you went back to working on your actual class projects. You and James ended up working on the night vision glasses and because of how useful they could be, both of you started digging through books to try and figure out if you could actually finish them before the prank. 

Eventually, you did find a spell that could work, and while you were drawing a bunch of runes on the wooden table, James was writing down a copy of the spell on a piece of paper so the two of you could enchant the object at the same time. 

Both Remus and Sirius were impressed with how fast and in tandem you were working, as if you really had known each other for longer than you had. It was easy to forget how freaking brilliant James was while he was cracking jokes half the time, but he was as much of a genius as the rest of the boys, even if each of them had their thing. The class finished, and since you had lunch, neither you nor the boys worried too much about leaving the classroom as you continued working on your spell. 

That was until Lily showed up near the door “There you are!” She said once she spotted you “I was looking for you, time to change your bandages!” She said pulling a roll-out of her bag “We’ve got like 30 minutes before Defence Against the Dark Arts–” 

Your eyes opened wide, “–30 minutes?!” you asked shocked and turned to the clock “fuck, I’m supposed to be in the bathrooms with Richie,” you said as you stood up and placed your robes around your shoulders to then start unbuttoning the shirt, your back facing the boys.

Lilly took off her own robes and levitated them around you to give you more room to move around as her robes covered you while you took off your shirt, “Why do you need to see Richard near the bathrooms?” She asked. 

“It’s confidential!” James said before you even had a chance to open your mouth. 

“Yeah darling, don’t tell the beautiful redhead, no matter how tempting,” Sirius teased right after. 

You rolled your eyes and Lily arched one of her eyebrows “What’s that about?” She asked as she opened the roll and took out a small pot with her cream, you were unwrapping the older bandages while at it so that you could both end faster and you could run off to see Richie before he got too angry. 

“I accidentally told Sirius I was into redheads,” you said with a shrug “he probably won’t stop teasing me about it.”

“Oh,” she said surprised, taking the bandage you were unrolling with her own hands and helping you with it “Didn’t know you were into redheads…” she said casually “Would you mind if I tease Sirius about it?” 

“Not at all,” you said, “be my guest,” you smiled complicitly. 

“Oh wow,” she said as she looked at your injury “You heal fast,” she said surprised. 

You turned towards it, and she was right, while the wound wasn’t completely healed, it was significantly better than it had been the day before, let alone today in the morning when you were crying as you tried to cure it in the Room of Requirements. Perhaps the piercing paste you had somehow mustered up in the morning did something good in the end, even if it had hurt a hell lot while doing it. Either that or it was something else, either way, you were just happy it was looking better, if it went on like that, you might just be able to convince James to let you play on Sunday. 

“Ready for your date on Saturday?” you whispered, you could tell there was a slight blush creeping up her neck.

“That bastard is lucky I said yes, I don’t even know how exactly he convinced me,” she muttered. 

I do, you thought as you remembered the glass of punch she had in her hands at the party, “No idea, perhaps you just were really happy,” either way, it’s not like the euphoria potion made you do anything you didn’t want to, in fact, I’d go as far as to say it was like liquid courage. Of course, Remus wouldn’t agree with that opinion, or perhaps it did give him some courage, for the first five minutes or something.

“Yeah, I did feel quite happy,” Lily agreed. “It was really nice to hang out with James while taking the pictures, I guess I really hadn’t given him a chance before that.” She said as she dabbed the wound with her much more reliving paste. You would have cried from relief if it wasn’t because she’d asked you why you were crying. 

You were taking deep, slow breaths when you heard Sirius’ voice from behind Lily’s cloak “Hey luv, we’ll pick up some lunch for you so you can take your time with Richie, all right?” 

You nodded and then shook your head when you remembered he couldn’t see you “Yes, save me some sausages, will you?” 

“Whose sausages?” James teased. 

“Ugh, don’t be so gross Potter!” Lily responded “And to think I agreed to go on a date with him,” she muttered to herself. 

“I’m sorry my love,” he said in return “did not mean to upset you.” 

Lily just rolled her eyes “Get the poor girl her sausages and stop being annoying then.” You snickered as you heard Lily’s bickering and she gave you a look, you raised your free hand in surrender. A couple of minutes later she was done wrapping the bandage. “There you are darling,” she said with a smile. 

“Thanks,” you said with a smile “You’re the best.” 

Lily just smiled “Want me to come with?” she asked as she motioned to the door and you rushed to put your shirt and sweater on. 

You shook your head “It’s all right, I can deal with him. Besides, it’s kind of confidential.” 

Lily arched her eyebrows “Really? You’re not telling me what this is all about?” 

“Trust me, you’re better off like this, you’ll have plausible deniability,” you said with a smile as you finished accommodating your shirt. 

Lily was staring at you shocked as you walked to the door “What do you– (Y/N)! You can’t be working on a prank with them–“ she said as she followed behind, pulling her own robe that was still suspended in the air as she picked up her pace. “(Y/N)!” She whined when she realised just how far down one of the halls you already were. 

“Plausible deniability Lily,” you shouted from the end of the hall “Plausible deniability, trust me!” you repeated with a smile before turning in one of the corners, speeding through the halls to reach all the way to the outside of the Prefect Bathrooms, thankfully they weren’t that far off. 

After some more running you finally made it to the bathrooms, Richard Jackdaw was already there, looking a little annoyed as stared at you, as if you had him wait for too long. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, panting. “I got stuck in a class and then they had to change my bandages because, well, Myrtle mentioned it, didn’t she?” 

“That Barty and his gang threw you into the Shrieking Shack because you invited us to the Halloween Party?” he asked, “yeah I’ve heard… You know I had never been invited to a party before, at least not since I became a ghost a couple hundred years ago, and Myrtle, well, I’m sure she hadn’t been invited to one even when she was alive.”  

You tried not to cringe at his words, Richard could sometimes be a little bit of a boastful prick, but he was nice enough to hang around, and he had lots of interesting stories to tell, which is probably why you enjoyed hanging out with him and some of the other ghosts as much as you did. And you couldn’t blame him for his impression of Myrtle, since you had a very similar impression of her. 

“So… why am I here? Revenge, I assume.” 

You smiled, it was nice to know Richie and you were on the same page, you nodded “I want to pay them back in equal proportion,” you said with a smile. 

Richie arched an eyebrow, floating a little closer to the floor to see you eye to eye “Did ghosts really scare you in the Shack?” he asked with what you could only classify as curiosity “I know of no ghosts in there… And you aren’t particularly scared by us either…” 

You shook your head “There are no ghosts in the shack,” you confirmed, “but it is haunted by something else.” 

Richard pulled back, clearly interested in the story that you had to tell, the only thing was, that you wouldn’t tell any story, not today, possibly not ever… “And..?” he asked. 

“And nothing, the thing there did give me a hell of a scare, I almost died and everything,” you said casually “Got scratched up too–“ 

“–Yeah, Myrtle mentioned that one, she also said something about Mulciber being bedridden because of you.” 

You smiled proudly at that “Yeah, so I’ve been told,” you said “It was just Oppugno, but I guessed something funny must have gotten to him,”  you said with a shrug. 

“Aren’t you in 6th? Oppugno is a 7th year spell, I believe…” 

“It is, I’ve been reading ahead a good bit,” you said cockily “but talking about my small little success there, is not why I’ve requested to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said haughtily “So then, tell me, what’s the plan?” 

“Well, I know you’re a member of the Headless Hunt,” you started, Richard arched an eyebrow as he leaned in one of the statues, “And I did mention payback in the same propor–“ 

“–Shhh…” he said as he placed a transparent hand close to your mouth and looked around “fuck,” he added as he fixated his head on one of the corners “Quick, rub the head of the toad!” he pointed at a statue. 

“Excuse me?” you asked with a frown. 

“Someone’s approaching, hurry!” He added you did as told, leaning closer to the statue and passing your hand over the large toad’s head. In a matter of seconds, the mouth of the frog opened wide and swallowed you whole. You ended up rolling on the floor and coughing a couple of times as you tried to figure out where you had ended up. 

Seconds later you saw Richard float through the wall “You all right?” he asked you “Didn’t hurt your arm, did it?” 

You shook your head, almost surprised at his concern, most of the time Richard was too stuck up to care for anyone else but his ghostly self, or perhaps that was merely a façade and you were finally looking at the real Richard Jackdow, either way, you already knew he was friendly enough to be willing to talk to the new girl, so you held him in relatively high regards. 

You nodded, he offered you his hand to get up but quickly pulled it back, as if it was hard for him to remember he wasn’t alive anymore. It was a rather interesting phenomenon, you thought since most ghosts still had a hard time remembering their capabilities as dеad people even if they had been ghosts for far longer than they had been alive. Myrtle, for example, hated it when books were thrown in her direction, even if she actually couldn’t feel them. 

You gave him a tight apologetic smile as you stood up, dusting your robes as you looked around “You’ve brought me to your Secret hideout, then… Who was outside?”

“Spellman and Nightshade,” he said “We don’t want them to think we’re plotting something, do we?”  

You smiled and shook your head, looking at the small table in the centre of the room, placing your hands on it and leaning in just a little to test if it was sturdy enough to hold your weight, naturally you used your good arm to avoid hurting the other one further. When it proved it was, you turned around and gave a small jump to sit over it, legs dangling a little as you stared at the boy, ghost with a smile “We certainly don’t, thanks for the heads up…” you said, trailing off at the end, realising how it could’ve been offensive only after you had spoken. Richie gave you an amused look, “sorry…” 

He just laughed, “You’re probably the only living person I’d let make head-related jokes without retaliation,” he informed. “But don’t you dare tell anyone about it!” 

“I would never…” you said with a smile “Consider it our little tête-à-tête secret.” 

Richard chuckled, shaking his head as he did, you were certainly a funny one, no wonder the entire school was so fascinated with the new girl “Don’t push your luck…” 

You just smiled, and leaned your head to the side “Will you ever tell me the story of how it happened?” you asked, since you’d been rather curious about it, but knew most ghosts didn’t really enjoy talking about their last moments alive. 

“I told someone once a few hundreds of years ago, they finished what I started,” he said “But that’s a story for another day, all thought they remind me of you a little.” 

You raised an eyebrow with a small grin “Did you also let them make head puns?” 

Richard hummed and shook his head “Privilege is reserved for you sweetheart,” he said with a wink. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you retorted with a smile. 

“You don’t mind when Remus does it.” 

“Well that’s–“ 

“You’re wasting my time luv,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “What do you need me to do?” 

“The headless hunt,” you said. He hummed. “I need you to talk to them, and convince them to help us out.” 

He tilted his head “Won’t be an easy feat.”

“That’s the reason I came to you Ricchie, I know you can be very convincing.” 

He hummed again, leaning back a little as he stared at you “And then what? I doubt the Slytherins would be much too scared by the headless hunt, most of them are pure-bIood wizards anyway.” 

You started explaining all the details of the plan to him, his grin grew wider as you went through the potions and charms you’d be using, “You could add some spider venom essence to increase the sensation of crawling skin,” he offered, it had you raise your eyebrows and turn to him with newfound interest, he smirked “I was brilliant in potions when I was alive, that’s how I ended up working with Olivanders, helped whim with the extraction of ingredients.” 

“So now I know who to bother when I need potion-related advice,” you teased. 

He chuckled “Don’t make it a habit,” he retorted “By the way, do you not have class now?”

You looked around to try and find a clock in the old room, but there was none “Shit… I– Do you happen to know the time?” 

He laughed, “I’m dеad, not all-knowing.” 

You rolled your eyes, but nodded, finally jumping off the table “Thanks for helping me out with this, and for showing me your secret little hideout, clearly no one has been here in years.” 

“They haven’t indeed, I used to bring Anne and Apollonia to hook up here,” he said with a shrug. 

“You brought me to your hook-up hiding spot?!” you asked with a gasp.

He chuckled “Why? You bothered?” 

You looked around, aside from the dust and spiderwebs, it seemed clean enough “No… Can I use it?” you said casually, turning back to him. 

He raised an eyebrow “Which of your boyfriends will you bring here?” he asked. 

“I’ve only got one of those,” you dеadpanned. 

He smirked, “You keep telling yourself that, little one.” 

You rolled your eyes “So.. Can I?” 

He shrugged, “Leave a sock by the door at least.” 

You scoffed, diverted “It’s not going to be to hook up! it’s a perfect hideout to plan things… or even to prepare potions…” 

“Oh you’re definitely bringing one of your boyfriends here,” he said “Just don’t forget the socks.” 

“I swear, one can’t have close friends these days without everyone assuming shit.” 

“Or maybe you’re just that oblivious,” he whispered as he started to leave through a wall. 

“Hey! Wait! how the hell do I get out?” you asked. 

“You’re clever enough to figure it out,” he said with a laugh before disappearing. Freakin Richie! He left you locked up in the damn hook-up room. You looked around, the walls were wrapped with large thick bookshelves and a couple hundred books and other trinkets. There was a cauldron near the corner, along with some crystal vases, and a small cupboard with what looked like dried potion ingredients. It really was the perfect place to brew the potions once you’d gotten the ingredients from Slughorn’s office. The only issue left was getting out of it. 

There was no door, or anything that resembled one either. There wasn’t another identical statue either, so leaving the exact same way you had gotten in, was not an option. You took a deep breath and continued to look around, analysing the entire place again. There were more and more books, everywhere you looked. Some of them were in fact potion books, and they had some of the library symbols, which meant either Richie or someone before him had been the one to take them there. You grabbed one of them and started flipping through the pages when something caught your eye, there was a small frog carved into the side of one of the bookshelves. 

You left the book on the table without sparing it a second glance and reached the bookshelf in two strides, leaning down, you realised that there was a section that you could press, you smiled, leaning into the wall to try and hear if there was anyone outside. When you were sure there wasn’t you took a deep breath, brazing yourself for what was to come. 

Finally, you pressed the head of the frog, in a matter of seconds you were outside, this time you managed to land on your knees and quickly pretended you were tying your shoelaces as you looked around, trying to make sure no one had seen you. When you were sure the coast was clear, you stood up, and turned to the clock at the end of the hallway. You were fucking late. 

You didn’t think twice, speed walking towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom. The door was open and lots of people were gathered around two long tables, you instantly knew what was happening, you knew the arrangement, you’d seen it before… in the duelling club.

You took a deep breath and waited till most people had turned around to sneak inside as fast as possible, you were walking straight towards the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder “Lovely to see you decided to grace us with your presence darling,” you froze dеad in your tracks, that was Professor Nightshade's melodic voice.

You turned around with an apologetic smile, ignoring the pang on your arm as she accidentally brushed your shoulder wound. “I’m sorry Professor,” you said “I’ve been feeling a little off lately, I’m aware I’ve missed a couple of classes, and duelling club but I–”

“–don’t need to hear your explanations,” she said with a smile, you weren’t exactly sure if she was being kind or hostile about it “We were just about to start a new duel, we were looking for a second volunteer, would you care to do it?” Remus, who was standing a couple of metres behind tensed up, trying to give you a warning, but you didn’t notice, you were too enthralled by Nightshade’s stare. 

“Uhh… yeah sure,” you said as you dug your pockets to bring your wand out. Finally, you noticed Lily facepalming herself on the side which had you frown. You turned around, to look at the spot on the table to which you’d have to climb to, and you instantly knew why she had done it. 

On the other side of the long table, looking as pleased with himself as it gets, was Evan Rosier. You looked at him, keeping your expression as neutral as you could. And walked over to the table, Professor Nightshade elegantly offered you her hand so you could lean on it as you gave the rather tall jump, and you took it with a small smile, even if you were gritting your teeth as you got backlash from leaning on your wounded arm. 

Seraphina had no idea you were hurt, so even if she was hurting you she was doing it unwittingly. You saw James cringe as she grabbed onto your arm to help you up, but neither he nor anyone else could interfere. Once you were up there, you tightened your grip on your wand as you stared ahead. Last time you’d faced the boy he’d been in advantage, he had gotten you from behind, by surprise and he was a lot stronger than you were. That without even mentioning how it had been a 4 against one situation. 

This time it was different, there was no room to play dirty,  Nightshade was there and she wouldn’t allow it, you wouldn’t say you were particularly in advantage. Evan was a very talented wizard, you knew that much, but you were even, and that was enough for you to feel the adrenaline start pulsing through your veins. You’d get the chance to redeem yourself. You’d prove that you weren’t actually weak.  

“Backs to each other,” you heard Nightshade order, both you and Evan did as told, “I’ll count to five, and you’ll step away from each other that same amount of steps, when I’m done, you may turn around and start the duel, Understood?” 

You nodded and noticed from the corner of your eyes that Lily was gripping James’ arm with a nervous grip, the boy himself seemed tense, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the way Lily was clinging onto him or because he was just as worried for you as she was, probably both. 

“One,” NIghtshade said, both you and Evan gave a step in the opposite direction, you realised Peter had a tight grip on his own wand, and was darting his eyes rapidly between you and just behind you, he was looking at Evan, you realised. “Two.” You took another step. 

Remus could see Sirius tensing up, the boy was breathing slow and steady and had his eyes glued to Evan. He took a step towards his friend, and placed a hand over his shoulder, attempting to make it look like a friendly gesture as if not to call too much attention. Not that people were staring, no, they were all too busy staring at you and Evan. It’s not that the entire class knew of the rivalry between the two, but most people knew about the time you had hit Barty with the quaffle and they knew Barty and Evan were best friends. They had also seen your hostile behaviour towards each other, and with all the attention you were getting because of quidditch, you weren’t exactly one to blend in the back. 

Even if not everyone in the classroom knew how far the rivalry went, they knew the duel they were about to witness would be one to remember. Especially since both you and Evan, were just as talented in charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts as each other. Had Nightshade paid a little closer attention, and not believed Slughorn when he said that you were on friendly terms with each other and made a fantastic team, maybe she would have realised what a terrible idea this was.  

“Three,” She said, you both took another step, widening the distance between the other. You took a deep breath, tightening your grip around your wand, Evan was most likely going to go straight for an attack, so you’d have to be ready to block it, “Four,” she said, and you took another step, you could feel the tension building, the entire class was silent. So silent it was as if they were holding their breath. 

Remus felt Sirius inch forward and he instantly tightened his grip on the other boy’s shoulder. Inching closer so that his chest was almost touching Sirius’ back. While Remus was just as tense as your boyfriend, he also knew how much more impulsive Sirius was, so he started to rub soft circles with his thumb near the boy’s shoulder blade, “She can take him,” he whispered reassuringly, his eyes glued on you as he spoke. 

Another moment of silence and then “Five.”

In a matter of seconds both you and Evan were facing each other, “stupefy,” he spat. 

“Protego,” you said just before his spell reached you, casting a light blue force field around you that instantly blocked his spell. Once the two spells crashed against each other you spoke again “expelliarmus.” 

“Excellent wand work, the both of you,” Seraphina said “Pay attention to her shield charm, she cast it right before Evan’s spell reached her, which makes the spell even stronger.” 

While she spoke, you and Evan continued launching spells at each other, but you both had wicked-fast reflexes and managed to counter most of them, which meant you were both increasingly using stronger and more complex charms and jinxes to try and get to the other. 

“Serpensortia,” the blond said, you paused for a moment to look at him while a very big snake approached you, it was a very basic spell, and you weren’t sure why Evan would use something like that against you, perhaps it’s a Slytherin thing, you thought.

“Flipendo,” you said pointing towards the snake, effectively pushing it back towards the boy, the snake had flown so fast, that it fell right over his shoulders. He hissed and pushed it to the side, having it fall over the head of a couple of other students. 

“Keep the spells on the table!” Nightshade reprimanded as several students sprung back, trying to get out of the way.

You turned to the side and pointed your wand at the snake “deletrious,” you said, the snake rolled on itself and disappeared, but the little distraction had given Evan an advantage.

“Diffindo,” the boy spat, you ducked, but the curse got your cheek either way, causing a small slash on it. You heard some people hiss, Remus had to basically glue Sirius to his chest to warn him not to step in. He knew the teacher would reprimand him, but even worse, he knew you’d be pissed if anyone stepped in at that point. 

You touched your face, with your free hand, seeing the bIood on your fingers as you turned your wand back to him, or more precisely to a point in the ground near his feet, “reducto,” you said, causing a small explosion on the table that caused Evan to jump back, giving you enough time to get back your own footing. 

Evan seemed to panic as you got up and pointed his wand at you “Confringo!” he said, you somehow managed to block the spell. 

“Rosier!” Nightshade reprimanded “That’s not a spell we–” 

“-Avis!” you responded, causing a swarm of birds to fly in Evan’s direction.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She started as well, but neither of you was paying much attention to her words at that point. 

“Expulso!” he spat, the birds all exploded into thin air “Incarcerus!” You blocked. 

“Petrificus totalus!” you said, but he jumped to the side, “Incarcerus!” 

“Impedimenta!” This time, you both got each other. 

You were moving in slow motion as he fought with chains that wrapped around his feet and arms. “Fini…” This was going to take a while, you realised. Evan was working around the ropes pretty fast. “…te incantatem…” you managed to say and got back on your feet only seconds before he shot another jinx that you managed to counter by a hair. 

He pointed his wand at your face “Reducto!” 

You blocked and shot the same spell, he blocked, “stupefy!” He blocked. “Exoelliarmus!” he blocked. He was blocking everything, you’d need something stronger to get him even as he was blocking. “Confringo!” you spat again, but Evan had been distracted by Nightshade who was still trying to end the duel and it got him. You gasped as the boy was shot back by a fiery explosion. You’d been expecting him to block, so you weren’t measuring the strength of the spell. 

Evan barely managed to sit as he reached the floor and started trying to put the fire on his robes off. “Relashio,” you said, launching a good deal of water over him. You had already won, he was on the floor, not on the table anymore, but he was pissed, everything stung and on top of that you had made him look like a wet rat with your stupid water spell. 

Evan pointed his wand at you “Furnu-“ he started.

“Expeliarmus!” Nightshade interrupted, taking Evan’s hand away from his hand “That’s enough!” she said sternly “The two of you are way out of line!” You swallowed, still looking at her. “Diffindo?! Confringo?! Are you two out of your damned minds?!” 

“Evan was the first one to–“ 

“–Silence!” she uttered, you bit your tongue, “I’ll take Mr. Rosier to the infirmary,” she informed “But we’ll be having a talk after dinner Miss (Y/L/N), not only because of the duel,” she added, and then turned to the rest of people “Class is cancelled everyone, you may go back to your daily tasks.” She then dragged Evan out of the classroom. 

There was a series of whispers and people started leaving the classroom, you were still standing over the table, slightly frozen when Lily reached for your hand and helped you down, she took a look at you, placing both hands on the sides of your head to check the cheek that Evan’s spell had gotten cut. James was there, looking at it over Lily’s shoulder, and he winced as the girl moved your head to the side to give it a closer look. The rest of your friends were fast approaching, you still hadn’t said a word.  

Sirius came to you with a huge smile, Remus trailing close behind you “Starshine!” your boyfriend said, trying to get your attention. Since your head was still being held by Lily’s hands, you just focused your eyes on him, he had a huge grin on his face “That was incredible luv!” he started. You didn’t have much of a reaction. “The way that you–“ 

“–Sirius,” Remus said, calmly, trying to get the boys’ attention, he had somehow gotten just in front of the longer-haired boy in a matter of seconds. 

“And then how you–“ 

“Sirius,” he called again. The boy finally turned to him, and saw the way Remus shook his head slowly. Sirius frowned, not quite getting what Moony wanted to say.

“He didn’t block,” you muttered. 

“What was that luv?” Lily asked, the boys’ attention all on you now. 

“I– I was expecting him to block… I didn’t mean to…” 

Sirius frowned “What?! But after the things they did–“ 

“What did they do?” Beth, who had just gotten there, asked. 

Sirius swallowed. “They threw them off their brooms while they were broom surfing,” Remus intervened. 

“You went broom surfing again?” James asked, in shock, Lily almost kicked him in the shin, “Because I thought–“ 

“He’s in the infirmary because of me,” you muttered again. That was not the plan, that was not how you’d get back at them. 

Yeah, you almost died because of him, I’d say you’re even, Sirius thought, but he didn’t voice it, the rest of your friends were gathering around. 

“Should we put something on your–“ Lily started. 

You shook your head “I’m fine.” 

The girl nodded, understanding that you needed some space to process everything that had gone down, especially because of how fast it had been.

“We should go to the common room,” Remus voiced from beside you, and then leaned a little closer, placing one of his hands on your back, a soft reassuring smile “We still have the food you asked for earlier.”

You looked at him, eyes a little unfocused at first, but eventually you nodded.  You all walked back to the common room together. Sirius had taken your hand in his, to try and give a reassuring squeeze, even if he wasn’t quite sure why you were so perturbed, since he thought the way Evan had ended up was well deserved. He’d seen the marks of his fingers on your neck and jaw, he’d seen the sheer stress you had been put into when they matched you with him in potions, in fact, he’d go as far as to say confringo, hadn’t been enough, but that might just be the Black in him. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: So now we know exactly what they were looking at... Can we talk about those wolfstar interactions getting better and better? Gosh I love them so much I swear. Thoughts? Comments? What exactly could the prank be? Also, can you tell I really liked Richie from Hogwarts Legacy?

Raead more Marauders Fiction

[bonefall]

Could the cats make little toys? Like making plushies out of plants or figurines out of rocks and sap or something?

70% of the toys they make are weaved or whittled. I actually made a small scene in the outline (which HOPEFULLY, i keep saying this, should be out Soon TM) of Darkstar's Commandment where she creates a wicker ball as a gift for Reedshine

^^^ These are willow balls! If you have access to willow trees, you can make these really easily. For Clan cats, it's a sign that you're a really good weaver, and making these is a big favor because they're naturally quite brittle.

These are the basis of the famous "mossball." Pure moss doesn't keep its shape if you kick it around; a wicker skeleton is stuffed and covered with moss so it doesn't hurt if it bonks you in the face. Usually, these are just kept in a pile somewhere any anyone can go grab and use one for games.

You can customize a ball for a specific person by sourcing some leather or linen, and then sewing it around the skeleton. WindClan has the market cornered on this sort of thing because of how many rabbits they hunt, but for RiverClan, SkyClan, and ShadowClan, pelts and flax are pretty valuable and not typically wasted on crafting good mossballs.

(SkyClan in particular is more likely to just trade kittypets for their excess toys.)

Even the best Clan cat artisans only whittle the sorts of figurines we might associate with small children. They're sharp-edged, simple, and look a lot like these;

They don't have "polish" figured out yet, so nothing they make looks "smooth." Some cat's going to figure out that they can rub the edges against the nearby exposed sandstone, but I'd leave that for a bit of a "genius" like Dustpelt or his mentor One-Eye to figure out.

They can also be made out of clay, but that's more common in RiverClan and WindClan where wood is scarce.

Figurines are often directly commissioned by deputies and senior warriors for use in strategizing, ESPECIALLY in WindClan where they have a history of needing to "visualize" the various parts of their open moor in battle plans. They can be simple toys, but these can get pretty elaborate as it's seen as a bit of a status symbol if the deputy's "pawn" of you is fancy.

Basically, it means you're important enough to be frequently included in battle plans, so much that YOUR pawn is customized. These will often be buried with the warrior, or passed down to their living descendants.

Figurines show up a lot in "channeling." The illegal, direct method of summoning the dead by bypassing StarClan. They aren't "consumed" by the ritual like more organic tokens, so someone who does a ton of channeling of a specific spirit will often end up crafting one of these.

There's various other toys too, but they're generally not soft or stuffed. Clan cats don't have "plushies," since they require a LOT of textiles and sewing which they can't experiment freely with.

And to close out;

Glue is made from animal hide, and is another one of those "high-quality" materials mostly used by artisans and patrol heads.

Making pitch from pine is dangerous; go here for a tutorial on that

Sap's not a great adhesive, but works fine for kittens just having fun.

Whittling, weaving, and molding are the skills usually used to make toys.

Yes, they make toys, and they love to play with them.

Most "crafts" Clan cats make are communally owned, personal belongings are usually very special.

[ao3cassandraic]

What does Aziraphale know and when does he know it? Part 4: The Aftermath

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3, for those who need them.

After Crowley strides out, Aziraphale has a lot going on in his head still, and it shows on his poor devastated angry (he is angry, just a bit) face.

Then the Metatron comes back in, and Zira has to turn sharply away to pull himself back into some kind of kayfabe. "How did he take it?" the Metatron asks cheerfully, despite already knowing because he was watching. Jehoshaphat, y'all, I thought s1!Gabriel was punchable -- I want to drop the Metatron into Earth-core magma like Gollum at this point!

Aziraphale's heroic efforts at kayfabe are pretty successful, on the whole, but it hurts to see him stiff as a board, arms at his sides, letting the Metatron (argh, so punchable) insult Crowley and laughing nervously. Then the Metatron starts forcing him out the door again with "Right, ready to start?" The presumptuous wretch doesn't even wait for a yes -- just assumes it!

Aziraphale, however, knows he never said yes, so he tries playing for -- anything, really, more information or some kind of choice (arc word! arc! word!) or anything at all. No dice; the Metatron highhandedly gives his bookshop (his. BOOK. SHOP.) to Muriel. Aziraphale now knows why the Metatron wanted Muriel to stay behind on Earth, and he also knows that the Metatron will stop at nothing and trample anyone to get what he wants. Not comforting knowledge, that.

And Aziraphale, having essentially no more choice (I repeat: arc word!), but still horribly torn because he never got to make a decision about the job offer, still doesn't have a Metatron-thwarting plan, and wants Crowley with all his mind and heart, blurts "I think I --" Then he drops back into kayfabe, following the extremely punchable Metatron out the door.

Crowley's still there, standing by the Bentley. All our hearts shatter. But the extremely punchable Metatron (have I mentioned that he is extremely punchable?) keeps Aziraphale moving along by dropping hints at answers to his continuing questions: whatever the Metatron's up to, it's something to do with the Great Plan.

Aziraphale asks. And now that he's firmly in the Metatron's clutches, the Metatron answers: it's the Second Coming.

Watch Aziraphale drop kayfabe (fortunately, the Metatron isn't looking at him) for a look of helpless dismay. A.Z. "entire collection of Bibles, wicked and otherwise" Fell knows what that means! Watch him re-establish kayfabe when the Metatron looks at him from the elevator. Watch him turn back toward Crowley to tell him (unnecessary -- Crowley knows from his visit Upstairs -- but Aziraphale doesn't know Crowley knows), then decide (with another of those pulling-himself-together deep breaths) that he must instead play along. Watch him kayfabe-smile at the Metatron and enter the elevator.

And watch kayfabe warring with devastation and guardianly determination in Aziraphale's face over the credits. My read -- you may have a different one -- is that determination wins, and the eventual smile is an "okay, now I have a plan" smile.

Watch out, Metatron. Aziraphale's gonna wreck you and I'm gonna enjoy it.

-------------------------------------------

This interpretation of the Final Fifteen Minutes is parsimonious. It works with what's there onscreen, not assuming much beyond that -- the only Caveat About Offscreen Shenanigans I left in was to note that we don't necessarily see the entire chinwag. Exactly zero of the twistier, more elaborate fan theories, you may have noticed, made it into this meta -- heck, we don't even have to assume we didn't see the entire chinwag! We might have! What we did see was enough to lead to these outcomes!

The Gaiman-Pratchett-Finnemore brain trust likes jigsaw-puzzle plots where everything has its place and little or nothing is wasted. That's a big reason I think a parsimonious interpretation is likely to be close to a true interpretation. It's all there; why get wild if there's no need to?

This also aligns with what Michael Sheen has said (do please read this not-mine meta, it's lovely) about angels and goodness and making choices. I, too, want Aziraphale to have made the hard, hurting, noble choice at last, even if he was partly railroaded into it.

(Anyone who doesn't care for fan theories should stop reading now, with my effusive gratitude for making it this far.)

That said, the explosion of fan theories about the Final Fifteen Minutes also demonstrates that this interpretation is narratively accommodating. It doesn't have to assume poisoned or drugged coffee, but it doesn't preclude that. It doesn't require a body swap, but it allows it -- all that really has to change is the estimation of who's doing how much kayfabe when. It doesn't need some massive season-spanning conspiracy arc, but if there is one, it can make that work.

Neil knows fandom, none better. He knows we love our meta and our theories. So I have no trouble believing he wrote us a narratively accommodating finale so we could get our book-length Tumblr posts on. Appreciate it, and you, Neil.

[inators]

From that one prompt that said 'Heinz Doofenshmirtz has died'

The main console nearly bowed to the power of Perry's fists as he slammed them down, chair behind him clattering to the ground from the force at which he stood. He glared up at the screen, murder in his eyes and a ferocious curl to his lip. That was not funny.

Major Monogram and Carl glanced at each other, then back down at Perry with some amount of trepidation. Everyone knew of Perry's less-than-professional connection to Heinz Doofenshmirtz; they just didn't know how deep that connection ever went. "We understand that this might come as a bit of a... shock. We just got the news ourselves."

Perry's fists clenched even harder, if such were possible; his nails dug into his palms as he ground his teeth. Heinz, dead? Impossible. He had just thwarted him yesterday. The resultant explosion from his self-destruct button shouldn't have been near enough to cause serious harm. Not to the most resilient man he knew. Could it be? Did someone finally manage to thwart his nemesis? But that was his job. Who else... What else...?

( If this was Peter's work, he thought savagely, then OWCA would have a rogue agent on its hands in no time flat. )

「Show him to me,」demanded the agent without preamble, his signage snapped out restlessly. He held up a finger when Carl opened his mouth to object.「Now.」

Carl pressed a button. A pneumatic tube appeared next to Perry, which he tried not to hurry into. His mind was still reeling from the news... If it was news. Some elaborate plan, perhaps — or a duplicate, a clone, a doppelgänger of some sort. He'd cloned Perry before. Why not himself? He felt sick. His stomach was tying itself in knots. It was as if his body knew, even if he refused to believe it himself. Don't be dead, Heinz, he prayed, his heart beginning to ache as its beat thundered in his ears. Don't. Don't. Don't.

The morgue was clean in a way that was disturbing even to Perry. Every inch of it gleamed with a sickening promise. I will take him, it whispered as Perry exited the tube. I will take him and tear him apart.

He was so small.

Perry swallowed hard and approached the gurney, his body beginning to shake. Monogram and Carl stood nearby the tube, but he didn't care about his audience just now. Heinz — wonderful, ridiculous, extraordinary Heinz — lay there cold and lifeless. His arms were missing; someone had put them to the side in preparation for the autopsy, he guessed, but it only served to make his nemesis look... Tiny. Frail. Helpless. His fingers danced over his narrow forehead, down his cheek and along his neck where he finally stopped to check for a pulse. He bent, listening for a cough, a breath, anything, but nothing came. His own breath caught in his throat. No. No-no-no.

Ever so slowly, ever so painfully, Perry realized that yes, he was looking at his esteemed beloved cherished nemesis. He could remember every burn, every scar, both pink and grey, old and new. They were all there. Every single mark, every single story, mapped out on the stiff body displayed before him.

Perry choked.

Was he sick, or was that a sob? There was a constriction in his throat that he didn't recognize, and a wetness in his eyes that he refused to name. He breathed hard through his mouth, tried to let the pressure out, but he couldn't. For once, Perry the Platypus couldn't control himself. His fingers clenched on the side of the gurney as he tried and failed to stem his tears, determinedly blinking them away. Heinz wouldn't want him to cry. He would never want Heinz to see him crying. He needed to be the personification of unstoppable, dynamic fury that Heinz knew. For Heinz, he needed to be Agent P.

I never got to tell you, he lamented, and let his fingers trace over Heinz's cheek again. I never got to tell you... but I will show you.

He took one last look at Heinz, not knowing what his expression looked like — not wanting to know what his expression looked like — and turned away, heading back for the tube.

"Agent P — " Monogram tried; but Perry shouldered past him and took the tube back to his lair, where he shouldered his jetpack and headed straight for Doofenshmirtz Evil, Inc. He would find out who did this if it took his last breath.

And they would pay.

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/751102464296665088

*Puts on old man costume*

"Back in my day, we used to cheat and procrastinate like real people! With copious amounts of bullshitting and pulling things out of our asses at the last minute! Secretly sneaking in little things written on our hands or in our phones fer tests and shit! Heck, maybe we didn't even NEED to cheat because it turns out we actually knew stuff, we just didn't know we knew stuff until our last minute papers got a good grade anyways because our shit actually had some analytical relevance borne from deep in our psyche, but we just didn't realize it because we had massive cases of imposter syndrome where we thought everyone else was smarter than us, while overlooking our own abilities!

Now these newfangled ChatGPTs are just taking the easy way out of the easy way out! What's up with that!? These new procrastinators and cheaters make us look even worse than we already do, cuz they ain't even doing the work of not doing the work! And y'all can't even say that you can learn from it in the art of bullshittin', cuz that's not even YOUR bullshitting, it's someone else's bullshitting mangled up with hundreds of other peoples' bullshittin'!

Feh, kids these days!"

*Takes off old man costume*

Addendum: old man anon griping about cheating with ChatGPT does not endorse cheating or procrastinating. I'm just being silly.

I mean... at least with regular old-fashioned cheating, also an academic tradition since time immemorial, at least you're engaging with the material somehow. You are putting your own two god-given eyeballs on that and using your own ickle brainikins to do SOMETHING with it, even if that something is morally questionable. We've all seen the elaborate cheat devices where someone managed to engrave all the exam answers onto a pen or a pair of socks or whatever -- at least that person went in and used their initiative to remember information SOMEHOW, and to do it under their own power. Now, yes, it will get you into trouble, and yes, there are plenty of conversations to be had about accessibility and the fact that not everyone learns by sitting in a room and being lectured at and then having to regurgitate it all from memory with no notes in a final exam, which is why there is a whole thriving field of educational pedagogy and best practices and how to accommodate students with different learning styles and etc. etc. I sometimes see AI framed as "uwu accessibility issue :(" and like... cmon. There are educational professionals who spend their whole lives and careers working out how to shake up the traditional learning format and present material in an engaging way and teach students how to think and write and otherwise be academic and rigorous. And like, if you're voluntarily in this space, then we presume you WANT that instruction! Not to just sit around and whine about how we aren't catering enough to you personally and this means you should get to use the Bullshit Plagiarism Nonsense Machine to never ever think at all!

Now, I will say that the naivete around AI is not only limited to students. I was in a department meeting yesterday where the literal associate dean of the college seemed startled to discover that AI might not be a) totally reliable b) able to totally replace lesson planning and evaluation/grading by an actual human professor (after several faculty members pushed back, shall we say, briskly on the idea that it could). Plenty of people still think it can just magically solve Academia (or /insert field here), and those are not just limited to clueless undergraduates. And yes, undergraduates are clueless in different ways and for different reasons in every era of the world; it is likewise an academic rite of passage. But I still cannot for the life of me understand why you, in ye olde benighted 21st century, would pay tens of thousands of dollars and/or accrue it in debt to go to college, to learn nothing, to whine and blame your professors for "not designing assignments well" (when again, every remotely decent educational professional agonizes for eons about how to do a good job of this for all kinds of students), to insist it is your entitled right to use the Bullshit Plagiarism Nonsense Machine, and then presumably be /shocked pikachu face/ when you don't learn anything and spend your time posting idiot takes on the internet. I mean. The state of critical thinking is /waves hand/ Already So Bad, and the AI craze plays directly into that by fulfilling the insidious fantasy that the hard things in life aren't actually hard and don't have to be learned by patient and careful practice. And that is just. Yeah. C'mon.

(I realize this was a funny/lighthearted ask, but yeah, we can consider this one old man turning to another old man on the park bench and making a joke, and the other old man bellowing YOUTH THESE DAYS!!! and scaring all the pigeons and/or passersby. Ahem.)